#why is da boy paler(?

[voidfanatic]

Eng: Tankie is having an identity crisis and questioning his life choices(core) 💚💯

Esp: Tankie está teniendo una crisis de identidad y cuestionando sus decisiones de vida(core) 💚💯

[kid-blinks-eyepatch]

Javid

sick jack 😱🤒

Prompt- "You've been sick for how long? And you didn't say anything because?"

~~~

Jack was sick. No, he wasn’t, he kept telling himself. He had a runny nose cause it was freezing out. He was puking cause- cause he just had a bug was all- nothin to be concerned about. He was collapsed half-conscious in an ally cause, cause he was tired. He was really tired. Like, way too tired. He was fighting to stay awake. And he lost that fight.

—

“Shit man” specs said, peeking at Jack, who was unconscious and awfully pale looking. 

“Ah shut yuh mouth Juliet” Ike snapped.

“Ey!” Spec said, offended. A small scuffle broken up by Mush ensued. Davey stood off to the side, watching his boyfriend nervously.  Smalls rolled her eyes and practically herded the other boys out of the small sickroom. 

“Yuh look aftah him” she said to Davey “an’ fo da recahd, He Don like help” she warned before closing the door. Davey walked over to Jack, sitting on the cot next to him

“Heya Jackie” he said softly. Jack let out a grunt, throwing an arm over his eyes although the only light was fading sunlight.

“‘Ey dave” he said weakly. Davey looked at him, his pale face, The vomit bucket.

"You’re sick”

“I’m- I’m not” Jack argued weakly. Davey raised an eyebrow 

“How many times have you puked today” ���I- uh… ‘m too tired to remember” Jack said, sheepishly. Dave sighed

“And you still went selling?”

“Been doin the past week-“

“You've been sick for how long? And you didn't say anything because?" He asked Jack, irritated at his boyfriend’s stubbornness. 

“I-I had things to do! Like- like sellin and lookin attach the littles and- oh no I forgot-“ Jack tried sitting up, turned even paler, and ended up falling back down onto his back. Davey sighed, Jack shrugged, then let out a low moan of pain.

“Davey it hurts” he said, sounding like Les. 

“What hurts Jackie?”

“My stomach” he moaned again, holding it protectively. Davey sighed softly.

“I’ll get you some meds, yeah?” Davey asked. Jack shook his head

“No. No meds”

“Jackie-“

“No meds!” *Jack said insistently, then winced and leaned  over to vomit. Davey looked away. 

“Fine, come here” Davey said, sitting on the cot. Jack whined, lying on his back.

“Jack please take the m-“

“No!” He insisted. Davey raised an eyebrow. 

“Why not my darling?” He asked, smiling when Jack rolled over and wrapped his arm around Davey’s waist, hiding his face in the other boys stomach.

“I just- embarrassing” Jack murmurs sleepily, seeming to fall asleep with ever second that passed. Davey smiled, hooking his hands under jacks arms and pulling jack up. Jack groaned and let out a small whine as he was moved.

Jack wasn’t used to being the one manhandled like this. He was shaking with cold but he felt very hot to the touch.

“Jackie, why won’t you take the meds?”

“they make me all weirdddd” Jack mumbled the rest of the sentence, Davey hummed, kissing his forehead

“Oh darling, you already ate” he said, giggling. Sparing Davey quick glare, Jack moaned in pain again, leaning over the cot to vomit again. At least he made it in the bucket. He wrapped himself up in the blanket, pressing himself against Davey, who gently cradled him, kissing his forehead. 

“I love you but if you puke on me I will be very angry” he said to Jack, who snorted weakly, burrowing into Davey’s body.

“Warm-“

“Go to sleep cowboy”

“I want a kiss first” Jack pouted. Davey laughed

“Not on the lips”

“Why!” Jack whined, then wiggled until Davey released him. He puked again. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he settled back against Davey.

“That” Davey said, kissing Jack’s forehead “puke germs”

“Weirdo” Jack huffed. Davey laughed and cradled Jack again, murmuring a story to him. Jack was out in under thirty seconds.

[thestoneheart]

Poor Company

        For the third time in as many days Gaheriet stared across a desk at Josselin Marin and contemplated throttling him. On good days he liked to think he was a patient man, but Gaheriet had left good days behind about four days ago. The desk wasn’t his, and a better man might have managed not to feel anything about the fact that he was calling this man into his Captain’s office for a lecture because the Captain wasn’t bloody well here to do it himself. 

           For a moment they stared at each other across that expanse of polished wood, over another man’s neatly arranged possessions. Gaheriet stood behind the chair rather than sitting in it, more out of the need to be on his feet rather than any misplaced respect for its absent owner. Josselin stared back at him, chin lifted, his pale blue eyes smoldering with resentment. 

           He might have been a good looking man, Gaheriet thought, studying the fine bones of his face under their pale skin, if he’d ever bothered to try. His snowy hair was the only thing in the room paler than that fine skin and if he’d bothered to do more than what looked like running a hand through it and tying the laziest tail at his nape he might have managed to look like someone’s idea of a soldier. And if…

           But Gaheriet stopped that line of thought in its tracks. He folded his arms across his chest and watched the way the smaller man across the desk tensed at the movement. Tensed but did not let himself flinch, he noted. Josselin’s chin lifted higher. Silence hung between them and Gaheriet was tempted to see how long it might take before Josselin would break it. But he did not have the luxury of a day to spend playing games of stubbornness with a man who seemed to prize that skill above all else.

           He eyed the bruise forming on Josselin’s cheek for a moment. Skin like that showed every mark of the man’s latest barracks brawl. He might have charted the last three days of idiocy on his arms if he had cared to. Gaheriet let out a breath. “I assume you know why I called you in here again.”

           “Because that bastard Guy ran his stupid face into my fist again?” Josselin asked with an infuriating little smirk.

           Gaheriet managed not to snarl but it was a near thing. “I heard how it started. You goaded him. You do nothing but deliberately stir up trouble and it would serve you right if I let the lot of them beat you bloody. This cannot continue. You have to stop.” He shoved the chair aside with a foot and planted his hands flat on the top of the desk to remind him to keep his temper.

           “I have to stop what? Living? Existing? Talking?”

           “If you can’t open your mouth without being an insufferable little shit then yes, try the not talking!”

           “I’m sure you’d like that wouldn’t you. Country boys ought to be seen and not heard and all that, right? Offend all you highborn sorts with my lack of fancy manners. Not enough la-di-da for any of you. Well you can just suck it Ser Gaheriet bluest of bloods Rosaire. Because I don’t have to shut my mouth to suit any of you. You can all suffer the way I talk and the way I take my tea and you can live with it or you can go cry into your velvet fucking pillows. I don’t care…”

           “No, you don’t, do you?” Gaheriet asked, keeping himself low and quiet despite the urge to come over the desk and close his hands around the idiot’s throat. “You don’t care. And you don’t bloody well understand it either.”

           “Understand what? Why a bunch of soldiers got to have drawing room manners?”

           Gaheriet’s palm hit the desk hard enough that the sharp sound of it rang through the small room and the sting of it made itself felt the length of his arm. He wasn’t sure he liked the part of himself that was pleased when Josselin flinched. “It’s not about the fucking manners.” He snarled. “That’s what you don’t understand!” He was shouting and he had not a doubt the room outside was getting an earful; the trouble was he no longer cared. “This is your company! You live and die by these men and if you were smart you’d be trying to make sure they didn’t all prefer it was ‘die’!”

           Something flickered in those defiant eyes that for a moment was so stricken Gaheriet almost wished he had not said the last words. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared. So swiftly he doubted he had even seen it.

           Josselin’s jaw was tight when he spoke. “And how the hell am I meant to do that. You’re the one who doesn’t get it. You don’t…” But there he stopped. “Hells with you!”

           “Hells with you too.” Gaheriet snapped. “Try not being obnoxious. Not sure if you can manage that for more than half a bell but give it a go. This is the third damned time this week, Marin. You’re disordering the whole company. Next time it will have to be a flogging. You don’t want that. Now get the hell out of…” Not his office, he recalled. “My sight.”

[ibijau]

Xisang Week 2021 Day 1 : Sunshot / childhood

Wei Wuxian stares at the two boys in front of him, before turning his gaze toward his husband who appears just as puzzled as him.

“I think it was a curse maybe,” says the older boy, who Wei Wuxian recognises, but refuses to name because if he calls him by name, then this whole madness is real and he doesn’t want to deal with that when he hasn't even had breakfast yet. “I mean, it’s got to be. Oh, da-ge is going to be furious that I got in trouble again…”

There go Wei Wuxian’s efforts to not think of that teenager as Nie Huaisang, and any hopes of using this situation to have some fun. Nie Huaisang looks so damn worried about his brother, and though Wei Wuxian isn’t sure where the two of them stand at the moment, he’s cruel enough to say anything about Nie Mingjue. 

“Hey, Nie-xiong, just what do you remember exactly?”

Nie Huaisang, whose attention was mostly on Lan Wangji, turns to look at Wei Wuxian and wrinkles his nose.

“I should be home,” he explains. “I’d gone back there after that awful Wen camp. Then we got the news, about Yunmeng, and da-ge said he’s going to send me to Gusu so I can stay safe. There’s going to be a war for sure this time. But I don’t know why I’m here already!” Nie Huaisang whines. “I haven’t even started packing! And everything is weird! I don’t know you, and I’m not sure I know him!”

‘Him’ in this case refers to the child currently clinging to Nie Huaisang’s neck. He’s probably a little old to be carried in anyone’s arms, least of all Nie Huaisang’s who isn’t exactly a very strong looking person. Looks can be deceiving though. Nie Huaisang doesn’t appear bothered by the weight of that Lan boy, even though he’s been holding the child in his arms since the moment Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji discovered them wandering around the Hanshi.

Wei Wuxian has never met that person at that age of course, but he can risk an educated guess, especially with the way Lan Wangji stares at that child.

“And what about you then?” Wei Wuxian asks the little boy. “What do you remember, Lan gongzi?”

The child stares at Lan Wangji in silence, his dark eyes burning with anger.

“He looks like Father,” Lan Xichen says, pointing an accusing finger at his brother.

Having never meant the previous sect leader, Wei Wuxian can’t say if that’s true or not. What he can say is that the accusation hits Lan Wangji hard, who turns a shade or two paler.

“He’s not your father,” Wei Wuxian quickly says.

Lan Xichen tilts his head, frowning.

“He’s not,” he concedes. “But he looks like him,” he insists, before falling silent again, hiding his face in the crook of Nie Huaisang’s neck.

Considering the sort of person Nie Huaisang was around the time of the Sunshot Campaign, Wei Wuxian is surprised by how well he’s handling this whole thing. He would have expected Nie Huaisang to have started crying already, but instead he seems focused on soothing the little boy in his arms.

Funny, really. As adults, Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen aren’t really on speaking terms, as far as Wei Wuxian knows. Nie Huaisang had only come to the Cloud Recesses to talk with Lan Qiren about some sect business, making it clear that he had no wish to even acknowledge that Lan Xichen still exists, a feeling that appeared more than mutual.

And now, Nie Huaisang is holding Lan Xichen like he’s something precious, keeping him close and rubbing his back to comfort him. Earlier, when Lan Wangji offered to take the child from him, Nie Huaisang refused to let go of a little boy who'd gone tense with fear in his arms, claiming he really doesn't mind the weight.

“He told me earlier that his mother died last night,” Nie Huaisang explains when Wei Wuxian stares too long.

Lan Wangji, already hit hard by everything that’s happening, startles as he hears that. Wei Wuxian quickly takes his wrist to ground him.

“Then he must be about nine,” Wei Wuxian remarks, looking at the little boy who says nothing and only clings tighter to Nie Huaisang. “Poor Xichen-da-ge, not a very pleasant moment of his life to be sent back to. Not that it must be nice for you either, Nie-xiong.”

“Don’t call me that, you’re too old to call me that!” Nie Huaisang complains. “I’m not an ancestor like you! You’re even older than my da-ge! And anyway, I don’t even know you! I can tell that’s Wangji-xiong when he’s old, but you’re not someone I know, so don’t act like we're friends!”

“Ah, right,” Wei Wuxian says, motioning at his face. “Funny story, that. Or not so funny actually, so let’s keep it for later. Well, Nie-gongzi then, do you have any idea what might have happened?”

“No. I told you, last I remember I was with my da-ge, and there was going to be a war, and I was scared because Jiang-xiong and Wei-xiong are dead, and da-ge too might die, and then I’d be sect leader and that’s awful! Then I went to bed, and I woke up in this house I don’t know, with jars of wine on the ground, and everything smelling weird. Like incense, but also not?”

That, at last, feels like a clue Wei Wuxian can use. It is rather odd for any alcohol to be present inside the Cloud Recesses. They do keep some around for high ranking guests, and of course he has his personal stash hidden inside the Jingshi, but usually that’s it. He’s certainly never heard of Lan Xichen drinking. And even if he were to indulge, why do it with Nie Huaisang of all people, who at this point is probably the closest thing to an enemy that Lan Xichen is ever going to get?

The incense thing is weird too. Some sects like to experiment with different types, but the Lan sect tends to favour sandalwood and doesn’t stray much from that. Nie Huaisang would know that, having studied there several years in a row, which is probably why that particular detail struck him, just as it strikes Wei Wuxian.

This whole situation really is odd, and Wei Wuxian hopes it can be solved quickly, because it won’t go unnoticed for long that the leaders of two great sects are suddenly unavailable at the same time.

[crystalirises]

Clouds

Hi guys! So, this is the second prompt for this week (which means I have to spin the wheel of angst again). So... this was inspired by @thesmpisonfire‘s post about possessive!Ghostbur. (I am so sorry if I butchered your idea ;-;)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724511

I also added the story below in case you don’t want to read it in ao3. Also, please take note of the trigger warnings as this isn’t exactly... just angst.

TW: Major Character Death and Poisoning (just... bad times...)

Fundy paced back and forth in front of the castle, his head downcast as he waited for his da— Ghostbur to arrive. When Phil had signed those papers, he felt a twinge of happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time. In his excitement, he had flung himself across the room, right into Eret’s arms. It felt nice. Eret had embraced him just as tightly, running a hand through his hair as they happily proclaimed him as their son. Fundy didn’t ever want to let go.

Still, he would be lying if he said he didn’t see the way Ghostbur watched from behind a corner. The dead man looked paler than usual, blood seeping from the wound on his chest as tears cascaded down his cheeks. Ghostbur had approached him after, throwing himself to the ground as he begged Fundy to spend at least one last day with him. Fundy had agreed out of guilt. The man was trying so hard to be the father he always wanted. One day. That’s all Wilbur wanted, and Fundy chose to give it to him.

“So— Fundy!” Fundy shivered, a chill running down his spine as Wilbur appeared from behind him. There was a picnic basket in his arms, though why Ghostbur chose for them to have a picnic together is beyond Fundy’s understanding. There was an excited grin on the ghost’s face, one Fundy swore he’s seen before. “I’ve packed us… well… you some lunch. Remember, the picnics we had together when you were younger? It… It seems like yesterday…”

Fundy winced, a memory of happier times flashing before his mind. “Oh. That’s great, Ghostbur… But, you’re not… You’re not going to just watch me eat, right?”

“Well, I thought we could spend the day catching up, you know? A-and you might get hungry at some point so I… You like salads, don’t you?” Fundy did not like salads, but… Ghostbur looked so nervous about this.

“Yeah. Yeah I like salads.”

They made their way to a far-off river, Ghostbur happily floating around Fundy as they got farther from New L’Manburg. Fundy could barely understand what his da— Ghostbur was saying. It felt as if the conversation would flicker into a new topic with every second they took to get to their destination. As Ghostbur appeared and disappeared from within his view, Fundy wondered if this one day would be enough for Ghostbur to move on.

“So… uh… Eret, huh?” Ghostbur’s voice was gravelly low, yet… it felt curious, not a single trace of malice or hurt in his tone.

“Yeah. Yeah. Eret. They’re great, you know?” Fundy looked over but Ghostbur was staring off into the sky. “Da— are you okay?”

“H-huh? O-of course, Fundy!” Ghostbur almost dropped the basket, raising his hands in a placating manner. “I just want what’s best for you, Fundy.”

Fundy smiled, “Thanks.”

They reached the edge of the river, Ghostbur insisting for Fundy to wait as he set up the picnic blanket. As he watched the ghost hurriedly unpack in a frenzied manner, Fundy drifted off into a memory. He recalled the sun on his face, his small hand tucked into a warm hold as his mother’s laughter floated down the field. His father would have finished setting up by the time they reached him, an immaculate smile on Wilbur’s face as he reached out his arms towards Fundy.

“Fundy? Fundy?” He jumped back into the present, a mockery of his father’s memory floating before him. A hint of concern flashed across the ghost’s face, his hand on Fundy’s cheek—

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking about… stuff.” He walked past him, his cheek cold from the touch. Ghostbur nodded, floating ahead of him as Fundy looked at the food Ghostbur had prepared.

“Sorry, I tried really hard to remember what you’re favorite food was but…” Fundy understood, Ghostbur could barely recall much ever since he died. He wasn’t surprised to know that he wasn’t as memorable as he wanted to be (despite being his son—)

No. Fundy was okay. He had Eret now, anyway.

The salad looked great, Fundy could hardly count the amount of berries Ghostbur must have use. The picnic mat was soft, the smell of sunshine and dirt pervading his senses as he half-heartedly listened to Ghostbur’s words. He looked at the salad, his stomach growling with hunger. He took a bite.

He choked, the taste bitter against his tongue. It was horrible. Well, that’s one thing Ghostbur didn’t have, Wilbur’s actual cooking skills. He wanted to stop at the first bite… but he didn’t want to make Ghostbur upset. He sighed, taking another spoonful of that horrid salad.

A few minutes passed, his head was beginning to pound. His whole body was shaking… the salad falling to the ground as a searing pain forced him to the ground. His stomach felt as if it was on fire— his vision blurring until all he could see was…

“I’m sorry, my son.”

Ghostbur’s hand was rubbing his back in a calming caress, as if placating him to peace.

“I tried. I really did. I want you to be happy, Fundy.”

Then why… Why was he suffering?

“When I found out, I was devastated.”

But he said it was fine—

“And really… Eret of all people… You chose the traitor over m— I’m not mad at you, Fundy.”

THEN WHY WAS HE IN PAIN?

“I love you. You’re my son, my boy! I couldn’t handle it, Fundy! I just can’t lose you!”

You lost me the day you chose Tommy and Tubbo over—

“I couldn’t have you calling them your father, you know? Eret… Eret doesn’t deserve it.”

As if you do?

“You’re my son, and I refuse to let them take you away from me! That’s why I— Shhhhh. Fundy, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’ll be over soon. I promise.”

He didn’t want to die like this.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, okay? It’ll be over soon. Shush now.”

The last thing he feels is his father’s hand in his hair.

.

.

.

.

.

The clouds were splashed with a kaleidoscope of color, their outlines moving slowly across the sky. He doesn’t know how long he stays there, watching as the clouds disappeared into the darkness. And as the sun sets, he looks around until his gaze spots a lone figure nearby. A familiar lullaby gliding through the air, he knew this lullaby. He knew this man beside him. A smile formed on his face, his throat burning as he spoke.

“Dad?”

Ghostbur turned around, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Hello, son.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Look, if I have to suffer nightmares from this I’m posting it.

So... yeah. Sorry if it sucks (I wrote this at like 10 cause I didn’t want this to haunt me in my sleep) or if it’s too dark. Not my usual style but I just really wanted to right it rn. So sorry if it’s too dark though ;-;

[es05l2k5sl]

I'll never understand why WB had to redesign the Batcast for the new Bat adventures. Some characters took getting used to. But as for the villains, I'm roasting they asses cus they're ugly. Can't change my mind.

These Oswalds together look like 2 different people bruh. But we're here to talk about new Oswald. This Wimpy x Olive Oyl fusion snoody looking ass bitch. I'd like his outfit if it didn't have that lazy drawned bow tie looking like 2 triangles glued together & those fake ass MJ gloves. Also when tf did he have 10 fingers in dis universe? Also fuck that hair. Rocking a balding Mullet like ponytail before. Now it's just a boring cut down. Got dat snooty ass bitch look on face like his bird shit don't be stinking. I'll rock tf out u. Lookin like a whole ass Looney character or sum mf from the 30s.

Wot da fuck dey got Selena wearing here? Sis looking like a whole ass alien. Kid vs Kat looking ass bish. And her skin white af too? Did sis fall in some damn Joker acid too? Sis whole lower face is white as shit! Dat shit paler than crack. Like sis got the white slapped outta her and she just turned whiter. Das probably what happened. Her ass probably got on my mans Bruce last nerves one night and got da shit backslapped out her ass.

So my dude Matthew got turned a different color pal & got his neck privileges revoked? Lazy af but not the worst revamp.

You kno that meme: "upgrade, upgrade, FUCK GO BACK!"? Dis pre much sums up Jonathan here. My mans jus looks so dirty here. Looking straight outta da trash bin. Like literally dirty. Nasty ass teeth probably got dat hot ass breath blowing thru them bitches. Das a real fear toxin right there. Long ass black as shit dirty ass hair. Tryna copy off my girl from the ring w dat shit. Need to take dat dirty ass wig and mask and Amish hat tf off my dude. It is not rocking you. Dat whole worn out trashy ass outfit ain't working for you either hoe. You need to take yo ass a bath bitch cus your arms looking brown and ashy as a bitch. You can not even THINK about borrowing anything from me w yo dirty creepy stalker lookin ass. If you don't put down that damn stick like yo ass need help walking and shit I oughtta bitch ya ass with the shit fo going around dressed like dis. Take that damn rope off your neck bitch fo I do something Bruce won't do.

Bruh, you can not go up to my face and tell me these niggas are the same person in the same mofucking universe! Jervis What da fuck did they DO TO YOU MY N**GA?? N**ga looking like a damn leprechaun with special needs and shit. Rocking all dat dookie green swag but you got no swag anymore my dude. It's shit like you clothes and yo breath! Yo shits wasn't perfect and white before but them hoes looking hella worse now. What you get drinking all that damn tea my n**ga. Ol Tiny ass n**ga. Like wot. HOW?! HOW TF DID YO ASS SHRINK??? LIKE SOMEBODY TOSSED YOU ASS IN A LAUNDRY DRYER AND PROBABLY FORGOT TO TAKE YO STUPID ASS OUT. PROBABLY WHY YO HAIR WHITE AND SMALL AS SHIT YA UGLY ASS LUCKY CHARMS LOOKING ASS CRACK FEENY. If you don't hop yo ass back under a rainbow with dem skinny ass broken heel lookin ass tap dancing shoes.

Victor, bruh, they dem did yo ass so dirty in the new adventures. I ain't gonna lie that new suit kinda ok. But you looking like a whole skeleton and shit. Lookin like a young Palpatine & shit. Ol Frisky dingo looking ass! Need to put those goggles back on. The least yo (spoiler) 2003 Baxter Stockman ass can do now.

Yo ass probably looking mad as shit cus ya can't jack it no more n**ga. Dats all gon now. Long with yo unloyal ass wife. How tf she gon bounce on you after everything you did for her? After all the years and bull you had to put up with & she leave yo cold ass for another nibba? Fuck DCAU Nora. Just fuck her.

Scarface lookin like a damn Fanboy & Chum Chum character & his boy over here lookin like Chode. Next.

UUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHHHGG.

Just. UAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHH. Bruh I will never understand who tf thought this shit was a good idea?! Like who the fuck, was drawing dis nigga. Drew DIS Sus af shit. LOOKED at dis shit. And said to deyself: "Yeah dats da Riddler aight". HELL TO THE NAH DAT AIN'T NO DAMN DAS A (dick) FIDDLER! HE LOOKIN SUS AS FUCK NOW WITH THEM TIGHT AS GREEN SPANDEX AND THAT DARK AS HELL EYELINER. Looking like gay Christmas elf! Looking like a gay ass ballay dancer with them Spider Gwen ballerina shoes. You can't dance for shit nigga! Yo shit is SOOO DAMN TIGHT like I can get a good sight and shape picture of yo "Question mark" I'm telling y'all. sSSSUUUSSSSSSS. Looking like a bigasss lima bean. Skinny ass Jack skeleton moFucka. Like. They did my boy Eddy so freakin dirty with this. My mans had class, style, a nice look, HAIR. Now he. Whateverthelivingfuckdisbaldasspeterpanlookinmofuckasupposestobe. And i hate how that's how he did be lookin in almost every new Batverse when why tho? Nigg(m)a look stupid as hell. How tf he expect to be tooken seriously dressed and lookin like dis ? If I saw dis fucker in real life and he threatens me, imma laugh at his ass and beat him with his cane. Get ya Richard from Allen Gregory looking ass away from me. I can't!

Bruh it don't look that much but they did my mans Harvey dirty too. LOOK AT MY MANS FACE. good half i mean. Yall nigs kno. THESE MUHFUCKERS STRIPPED HIM OF HIS PRETTYNESS! Man. Dis version of Harvey was a pretty muhfucka. You can't deny dat shit

Even when he became Two-Face he still got dat 1 side of pretty.  And that deep af panty soaking voice to go along w it. He dat half and half package. 

Now HE LOOK LIKE DIS

WHOEVER TF DID DIS NEED DEY ASS WHOOPED! SQUARE TF UP NOW. NIGGA LOOKS LIKE EYEBROWLESS VERSION OF DOC FROM SECRET SATURDAYS. FAT ASS BLOCK NOSE MUH FUCKA.  His eye looks like traingle with a Nike logo on top of it. Lookin like a poorly drawn Dwayne The Rock Johnson. And ya other half ain't lookin that good either. Dat 1 eyebrow putting Helga Pataki to shame! I mean the shit didn't look good before but it was somewhat tamed, now the shit looking like full grownass caterpillar. And that lip black as hell. Kno that side dirty as fuuhck!

I don't even know what tf I'm sposed to say about DIS except (kinky..)

Angelica pickles looking ass. Bigass blonde captain coconut looking ass hairstyle. Looking like a blonde creepy ass Wednesday Adams. Dem black as fuck Kim possible lips. She actually looking like a family guy character with that bigass head and small body. I SWEAR she ded looking like one of Stewie's ex's right now my dude! Got  tiny ass flat ass guitar chip shoes. Looks like sis wearing fucking Zippers as shoes. Sis got that "i got something planned fo yo ass" smile. Sis look like she plotting something or did some evil shit already.

. . .

Bros I'm sorry but I'm just as confused as you like. I can't find a single thing different about Harley. Like literally nothing. Her makeup at night be looking blue sometimes, looking like a fakeass Livewire, but nah. They didn't even touch homegirl. Why tf is Harley the only character that stayed the same?????! Niggas was playing favorites. They had plans for that ass since day one. They was probs like: "Aye y'all. DO NOT TOUCH HARLEY. SHE STAYS THE SAME!" "why?" "JUST LISTEN TO ME BITCH!" "Wha bout her mans?" "Oh hell yeah fuck his shit up!" ...sigh.. Yep. It's that time...

UaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHH what else is dere to be said about dis ugly ass nigga? Dis nigga look like Yakko Warner & Freakazoid's love child! Dis nigga look like a random Tiny toons or Animaniac character! With that dookie green shirt and flower. You and Riddler's gay ass both matching them Dexter's laboratory Gloves. Why tf yo eyes eyes black as fuck tho?! How tf does one do that to theyself?! Yo ass probably snorted some shit and ya shits expanded and that's prolly yo pupils with ya cracked out ass. Nigga don't even look like a clown no more. Hell Jared Leto Joker atleast had the lipstick down. Dis nigga got dem ashy ass lips hanging out. Nigga think he owning too. Nigga you don't own shit! Broke as hell now. And yo design broke too. Joker? Man more like Broker. Got dat fairly odd parents hair. Got that Cosmo and Wanda in one. Like bitch if you don't. Just like Riddler i can not take yo animaniac looking ass serious. You do not scare me bitch! Bye!

Now see dis? DIS is Aight! A lot more fitting and & faithful to the character. No over the fucking top redesign, you can actually tell it's the same damn character as before, a little bit of swag for personality

So that's the tea. Ivy & Croc are the only good rogue redesigns in the whole series, evBody else ugly as shit.

[ghostsray]

kin assigned fenton

(’nother @phicphight entry for @darks-ink‘s prompt: "Fenton/Phantom AU where during the Portal accident, a ghost bonds to Danny Fenton's body, bringing him back to life but maintaining their own ghostly memories and none of Danny's. Meanwhile, Danny himself died and became a ghost, keeping his own human memories.")

(words: 8645) (AO3)

(part 2)

The first thing Phantom noticed when he woke up was that he felt heavy.

Gravity did not exist in the ghost zone. He never felt heavy unless he was being pinned by another ghost. As such, he was filled with fear, and his eys flew open.

He immediately regretted this action, because the harsh light that met his eyes made him wince and close them again. How could his eyes hurt? Ghosts shouldn't even be able to feel pain unless it was dull, but just looking at something bright made his head ache.

Now that he noticed it, he felt much more than just a headache. There was the cold floor underneath his arms, and when he tried to stir, a sharp ache flared throughout his whole body.

What, sincerely, the fuck was happening?

There was ringing in his ears, but that faded over time. When the ringing was no longer there, he was able to make out voices. They seemed to repeat the same name over and over: "Danny!"

"Who's Danny?" he managed to say. Ancients, even his tongue felt heavy.

The voices suddenly fell silent. "Um," said one of them, "you are."

Phantom hesitantly opened his eyes again, slowly this time. He found two people standing over him, but something about them looked odd. Their skins weren't like any shade of blue, green, or gray he had seen on other ghosts, and they lacked any sort of glow emanating from their bodies...

Phantom's eyes widened, and he blurted out, "Humans!"

The concern on both humans' faces immediately deepened. "...Yeah?" the darker one, which wore glasses and a ridiculous red hat, said. "Should we not be?"

The paler one, which looked like a girl with black hair and even blacker eyeliner, leaned over Phantom with knitted brows. She held up a hand with four fingers raised and asked, "Danny, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Phantom wanted to scramble away from these strangers, but his body was too tired and--ugh--heavy for him to move, so he frowned at the human girl and said, "Four. But why do you keep calling me Danny?"

The two humans exchanged a glance, then the girl asked, "Do you remember anything about yourself?"

"Yeah," Phantom said, a little (okay, a lot) confused. "My name's Phantom."

Another exchanged glance, and the human boy said, "No, it's not."

Phantom eyed the two of them in turn and said, "How do you know? I've never even met you before."

The girl grabbed his shoulder, which made him wince because he was still in a lot of pain (which shouldn't be possible, but he was). She stated sternly, "Yes, you have. We're your friends--I'm Sam, he's Tucker, remember? And you're Danny."

Despite his pain, Phantom managed to push her away and sit up against the awful pull of gravity. "No, I'm not! I--" He froze, because just then a strand of black hair fell over his eye. His hair wasn't black. If that wasn't enough to confuse him, he then noticed his own hands, which in fact were not his own. He was dressed in a white jumpsuit, except it looked like it had been blown apart--tears and holes riddled it, and through these, the skin underneath was visible. Pink skin, just like the paler human's. Phantom brought the hand up to his face. Hundreds of tiny grooves were etched into it.

Again, what the fuck? This was not a ghost hand. It didn't even have any claws! Realization dawned on him. He wasn't in a ghost body...he was in a human's.

"Uh, Danny?" the boy--Tucker--asked.

Danny. That must be the name of the human he was inside. Phantom didn't even remember overshadowing this guy, but that must be what was happening, right? He focused on leaving Danny's body so the human can talk to his friends and get them to leave him alone. Except, well, no matter how hard he tried...

"I'm stuck," he said.

"Stuck?" Sam repeated.

Phantom was really filled with fear now. This--yuck--human organ in his borrowed chest began to beat harder the more anxious he got, which wasn't helping. "I'm stuck inside this body! Why can't I leave?"

He glared at the two humans before him, who looked dumbfounded. "...Um," Tucker finally said, "are you saying...you're a ghost?"

"Yes, I'm a ghost!" Phantom snapped. Ouch, his head hurt. Phantom tried to push Danny's stupid body to its feet, which was enormously hard with this stupid gravity, but he managed to succeed. "I'm not Danny, whoever he is. I need to get out!"

"Er, Da--Phantom," Sam said. "How do we know you're really a ghost and not just, uh..."

"Off your bonkers?" Tucker completed.

Phantom raised an eyebrow. "Why? What's so hard to believe about your friend getting possessed?"

"Nothing much," Tucker answered, "except that ghosts don't exist."

Of fucking course he would say that. Why would humans ever believe in ghosts? The two species interact so rarely that Phantom himself would not have believed in humans if several ghosts didn't previously exist as them in life. Phantom opened his mouth, trying to find a valid argument, but he came up empty. Not that it mattered anyway, because the blood rushing from the chest organ was growing too heavy for his thought organ to handle, and he felt Danny's knees buckle and send him falling to the floor again while his vision filled with black.

He woke up. Again.

This time, the surface underneath him wasn't so cold. In fact, it was warm and soft. Likewise, the torn up hazmat suit he was wearing before was now replaced by soft cotton clothes.

Phantom hurriedly brought a hand to his face and was immediately disappointed. He was still in Danny's body. How? Why? Why was he stuck?

"Danny, you're awake!" a voice next to him said, making him jolt in surprise. He expected to see the same girl as before, but when he turned his head (Correction: Danny's head) to the side, he saw a different human. She had ginger hair and teal eyes.

"I'm not Danny," he told her.

The girl frowned. "Sam and Tucker told me about this. They say you think you are...a ghost?"

"I don't think I'm a ghost, I am a ghost," Phantom retorted.

"Really?" the girl replied skeptically. "Can you prove that?"

That should have been easy. Ghosts still kept a few of their powers even while they were possessing someone--at least, that's what he heard from the few ghosts who did interact with humans and managed to overshadow one. He focused on Danny's hand, willing it to turn invisible.

It did not turn invisible.

He frowned and tried to phase it through the soft surface he was lying on. The hand only pressed against it, but it did not phase through.

Invisibility and intangibility were a ghost's two simplest powers, so why was he unable to use them?

"You're not a ghost," the girl said when she sensed his failure. "You're Danny Fenton, a human."

"I'm pretty sure I just told you that I'm not."

The girl's gaze was intense as she continued, "You just went through a traumatizing experience. It would be normal for your brain to make up memories to..."

"Woah, woah, woah," Phantom said before she could finish. He rolled his borrowed eyes and grumbled, "Awesome. You're a psychologist."

"I'm your sister, Jazz," she stated simply. "And...are you saying you know what a psychologist is?"

"Of course I do! Do you think all ghosts are eighteenth century peasants or something? Psychologists can die, too, you know."

Jazz was undaunted by his comment. "As I was saying, though..."

"I'm not crazy--I mean, Danny isn't crazy," Phantom cut her off. "Like I told you, I'm a ghost."

All of a sudden, the door slammed open, causing Phantom to jump in his bed. A very large human man dressed in a vivid orange jumpsuit walked in, followed by a shorter human woman in a matching teal suit.

"He confesses! So he's guilty," the man said.

Jazz groaned. "Dad--"

"Your father is right, dear," the woman in teal said. "You said Danny might be having a psychological crisis, so we let you talk to him, but it's clear now that the ghost inside him is saying the truth."

"Yes, thank you!" Phantom said, spreading his arms out gladly. "Finally, someone who believes me!"

The woman gave him a smile. "We believe you, dear. And we'll get you out of my son."

"Really?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, yes," she said, and then whatever happiness Phantom felt immediately plummeted as she pulled out a very large weapon and aimed it at him. "And the only way to do that is by exterminating you."

Phantom's eyes widened, and he chuckled nervously. "Um, sike?"

The gun powered up, and Phantom yelped and shut his eyes as a blast came out at him.

Silence fell over the room.

Phantom opened one eye, then the other. The weapon's nuzzle was smoking slightly, so it must have fired already, but he wasn't harmed. He scanned the room to see any sign of where the shot might have landed, and he found a scorch mark--right behind where he should have been hit.

"Huh," the large man said. "I guess Jazzy-pants was right."

Phantom snapped his attention to him. "What?"

"The weapon didn't affect you," the woman holding the gun said. "It only affects ghosts, which means you're a hundred percent human."

"Wait, hold up," Phantom said, growing a little nervous and extremely confused. "How do you even know it works against ghosts? Did you meet any?"

The woman sighed, like this was a topic she had to explain many times over. "I assure you, it works. We don't need any practical testing to know that the theory is correct."

"But it's not," he argued, then gestured down to himself. "It didn't shoot me."

"Trust me, I know what I'm talking about," the woman said. "You're human."

Phantom paled. "But..."

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and saw Jazz looking at him pityingly. "It's okay, Danny. I know you're confused."

"I'm not Danny!" he shouted. He couldn't be. There was no way his memories could be fake. The Ghost Zone, the lairs he visited, Frostbite, Dora, Sidney, all those ghosts he befriended...he was certain those couldn't be fake. Right?

But the humans seemed sure about their conclusion. The woman put her weapon away, got close to Phantom, and actually kissed his forehead. "I'm sure youre tired, Danny. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

Phantom wanted to argue that he wasn't tired, that he was the opposite of tired, but unfortunately, she was right. After she lowered him back into the bed with an immensely strong grip, he felt his (Danny's?) eyelids grow heavy. Well, heavier than usual.

The other people in the room, Danny's family, filed out as Phantom reluctantly fell asleep.

He saw himself back in the Ghost Zone, where he should be. He was flying around lazily, doing loop de loops in the air and poking the clouds of swirling ectoplasm that littered the Zone. He was bored. The Ghost Zone was a neat place, but he felt hed done all the exploring he could, and he wished something new would happen.

Luckily or unluckily, something did. Not very far, a spark of light appeared. Phantom raised his eyebrows curiously and approached it, but it disappeared. Weird. He floated to the spot where it had been.

Big mistake. The spark reappeared, except it was less of a spark and more of an explosion this time. Electricity burst through Phantom's form and fried him from the inside out. He screamed. His surroundings melted into nothing, and at some point, he thought he heard his scream mix with someone else's. His molecules were split apart, and he felt his consciousness go somewhere else, some body that was not his own.

And then he felt heavy.

Phantom gasped and jolted awake. He blinked several times, his brain filled with confusion. He wasn't in the Ghost Zone. He was still trapped in the human realm, so what was up with that vision?

Oh, he thought, remembering what Nocturne had told him about visions that humans saw in their sleep. That was a dream.

From what hed heard about dreams, they rarely ever made sense. This one did, though. He was certain that was a memory of what brought him here.

A lot of good remembering did him, though.

Phantom looked over the room he was in, which he didn't get a chance to do previously. It was too dark to see clearly, which was frustrating, because darkness had never impeded his vision when he was a ghost. Although, the soft light coming through the window was enough to let him make out a few things in the room, like the various models of what he recognized had been described to him as spaceships, and posters of what he heard were called stars.

There was also a mirror in the room. Phantom rose from the bed, and he noticed that the pain had blessedly subsided, although he still felt heavy. Stupid gravity. He managed to stand on his own after a few minutes of nearly falling off balance, then shuffled his way to the mirror.

Shit, he thought, because even though he knew he was in someone else's body, he never had a chance to actually see it before now. The boy he was inside had black hair and blue eyes, which he remembered were the same colors as that large man in orange had. This body was smaller, though, more similar in structure to the woman. That damned black hair kept falling in front of his eyes. He looked around as young as those two humans who first greeted him, which was also around the age Phantom (as a ghost) usually appeared, although he never kept count of how many years exactly that was. Not like keeping count of years was easy inside a dimension where there was no sun.

While Phantom was busy despairing over the frail body he was trapped inside, an object in the room fell with a sudden crash. Phantom jumped a foot in the air. For Pariah's sake, why was he so jumpy in this body?

He turned around and jumped yet again as he noticed the green glow that had fallen all over the room. A few objects started floating on their own, including the bedside clock that was knocked onto the floor before.

If Phantom were a regular human, he probably would have shitted himself. But Phantom was not. Instead, his face split into a relieved smile, and he opened up his arms and exclaimed, "Thank Clockwork! A ghost! You have to help me."

The floating objects paused, as if they were put off by Phantom's weirdly positive outburst. Then they fell back to their original places, and the glow gathered into a certain spot in the room until they formed a person.

Phantom frowned and tilted his borrowed head. The ghost that appeared before him looked familiar. Just as he was wondering why, he realized: it was the same image he had just seen in the mirror, only with inverted colors, so that he had white hair instead of black, grayish-blue skin instead of pink, and ectoplasmic green eyes instead of blue.

"You're Danny," Phantom said. Then he slapped a fist on an open palm and said, "Ohhhh, so that's why I couldn't return control to you! You're dead."

The ghost, who was indeed dead Danny Fenton, stiffened and yelled, "I'm not dead!"

"You're a ghost," Phantom said, gesturing to Danny's floating, glowing form. "I'm pretty sure that means you're dead."

Danny pursed his lips. Then he grabbed Phantom by the collar and repeated, "I'm not dead, because my living body is right here, and I would kindly like you to give it back."

Phantom chuckled and slowly raised a finger. "Um, about that..."

Danny's glare was intense. Phantom didn't think he could be a very strong ghost, considering how recent his death was, but he didn't have any powers to protect himself anymore, so he shrunk warily under his eyes.

"What about that? Give me back my body."

"Yeah, um, I'm kind of, stuck?" Phantom informed him.

"Stuck?" He shook his head rapidly and said, "Quit joking around! Let me get back in my body, or I'll get my parents to beat your ghostly ass."

Phantom paused, because he heard Danny's voice falter at the end. The hands grapping him were shaking. He realized Danny must be afraid.

"It's okay," he spoke soothingly, trying to pat his shoulder reassuringly. "You just died, I'm sure that's--"

"I'm not dead!" Danny screamed and threw him to the ground. Ow, ow ow, stupid human body that feels pain.

Phantom tried to get up and reason with him again, but then the door opened. Danny's mom was there, holding the gun from before.

Danny turned around, and he widened his eyes and smiled. "Mom--"

But the woman didn't hear him. She crossed the room in a few bounds and formed a barrier with her body between Phantom and Danny, except, well...she was protecting the wrong one.

"Leave my son alone, you ghost," she spat at Danny, aiming her weapon at him while Phantom lay behind her back.

"What?" Danny's smile fell, and he stared at her and said, "But that's not--"

He didn't have a chance to complete his sentence before she shot him. A ray hit him right in the chest, pushing him back and slamming him against the wall. When he looked up again, her stern expression didn't change, and her weapon did not lower.

Fuck, thought Phantom, and he pulled himself up behind her. "Miss, um, Mom--"

"Don't worry, Danny," she said over her shoulder. "Mommy's gonna take care of this nasty specter."

She powered up the gun again, causing Danny (the real one) to flinch. "Please, listen to me..."

She did not. When she pulled the trigger once more, Phantom saw one last heartbroken look in the ghost's eyes before he phased through the wall and fled from his mother.

Danny's mom blew on the gun and flipped her hair. "See? That ghost was no problem."

Phantom picked his jaw up and looked at her. "Why did you shoot at him?"

She frowned. "Because he was a ghost, of course. You can never trust a ghost."

"Why not?"

She looked like he had just asked her the dumbest question on the planet. "Because they're evil. Malicious. Violent."

"That's not true," Phantom said, truthfully feeling a little offended.

Danny's mom only laughed and patted his head. "I'm sorry, who is the ghost expert here? Me or you?" She smiled at him and said, "Don't worry, I'll protect you from any ghost that tries to harm you."

Phantom would have argued further, but the resolution in her voice scared him a little. For the first time, he found himself grateful for being in Danny's body, because he wasn't sure what she would have done to him if she saw him as a ghost.

"Come on, go back to bed. There's still a couple of hours left before morning," she told him, guiding him back to Danny's bed. After he was settled in, she started to leave the room, but he stopped her by asking, "Wait...did you add anything to your gun?"

She smiled at him and said, "Nope. I told you it works on ghosts."

"Oh," he said, feeling his stomach organ churn.

Danny's mom left, only pausing at the doorway to tell him, "Good night, sleep tight, and don't let the bad ghosts bite."

Phantom lay in bed for a long time, but he didn't sleep. He stared down at Danny's hand...at his hand.

Danny was dead, and he was fully human, which meant this body was now his.

That thought burned in his mind until the light from out the window grew brighter, and the alarm clock beeped from its fallen spot on the floor.

Jazz knocked on his door. "Oh, good, you're awake," she said. She grumbled something inaudible then told him, "Mom and Dad want you to go to school."

Phantom hesitated. "...School?"

"I know," she said with a huff. She rolled her eyes and said in a mimicking tone, "It doesn't matter if you got into an accident that almost killed you and made you lose your memory! As long as you can walk, you can walk to school." She shook her head then asked, "Are you feeling better, at least?"

"Um," Phantom said, "define 'better'."

"Whatever. I'll drive you to school." And she left.

Phantom stayed in bed for several moments while the alarm continued to beep sadly. And then...he felt his bladder act up. He knew, from talking to ghosts who were humans, what this meant.

"Fuck," he muttered. "I have to pee."

.

After wandering around the top floor of the house, he finally found what he was pretty sure was called the bathroom. Figuring out the mechanics of the toilet and the faucet were easy enough, as well as the mehcanics of the actual peeing itself. He tried not to look at Danny's private parts while he did his business...even though he wasn't sure how long he would be spending in this body.

He went downstairs, which was difficult for someone who spent most of his existence flying, but he reached the bottom safely and found Danny's family sitting around a table with some stuff on it.

As he watched, Jazz scooped up a spoonful of the stuff inside her bowl, and she stuffed it into her mouth and chewed. Oh, so it was food.

Jazz caught him staring and asked, "Well? Are you going to eat?"

"Oh," he said. That's right, didn't humans need to eat to survive? He sat at the table, across from Jazz.

Phantom looked at the bowl in front of Jazz and noticed it was filled with a white liquid with pieces of multicolored circles swimming in it. He turned his attention to the jug that held the same white liquid, the box with a cartoon toucan on it that he guessed held the small circles, and the empty bowl in front of him. Well, he could put two and two together, and in no time he poured himself a bowl of milk and cereal and brought a spoonful to his mouth.

Holy Unworld! That tasted great. I mean, food did exist in the Ghost Zone for those who missed eating, but it all had the same acidic taste of ectoplasm. This was different. It was tooth-rottingly sweet.

Jazz raised an eyebrow at his dreamy expression. "You look like you're enjoying your Froot Loops."

"Froot Loops," he repeated the name. "We didn't have this in the Ghost Zone." Or maybe they did, but it wouldn't have tasted the same.

Jazz lowered her spoon and frowned. "Ghosts. Are you still going on about that?"

Phantom stopped chewing. He cast his eyes downward and twirled the spoon in his bowl. "I'm right," he said. "You were wrong about the fake memory stuff."

"Oh really?" she said, sounding like she didn't believe him. "Why is that?"

Phantom opened his mouth to speak, but his words died when he noticed Danny's mom. She had her back on them and was washing the dishes, but he thought he saw her tilt her ear toward them. Had she been listening?

"It's fine," Jazz sighed. "We'll talk about it after school. We're going to be late."

Phantom nodded and finished his Froot Loops, happy not to talk. Not with the ghost hunter in the room.

After the breakfast was drained, Jazz made for the door. Phantom followed her, but she blocked him with a hand and raised an eyebrow at his clothes. "You're not going to school in pyjamas, are you?"

Phantom glanced down at himself and saw that he was still wearing the same soft clothes he had slept in. "Uhh..."

Jazz rolled her eyes. "Go change clothes."

"Right," Phantom said and went back to Danny's room.

Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to wear. Ghosts didn't have different clothes for different occasions (most of them spent their entire existence in the same set of clothes--either whatever they had died in, or if they were born in the Zone like Phantom was, then whatever they thought made them look scarier), and the Fentons weren't exactly a good example of what humans normally wear.

As he rummaged through Danny's stuff, he came across a photograph. It showed Danny with those two friends of his--the ones who greeted Phantom when he first woke up. The trio stood in a grassy park, smiling, their arms linked together.

Phantom was filled with guilt as he thought back to Danny's ghost, begging him for his body back. If only he knew how to do that. He set the photo aside, but at least it helped him in one thing: the three teenagers were wearing regular clothes. He managed to find some clothes that matched the ones Danny wore in the picture, and when he returned downstairs, he was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a red-and-white T-shirt.

Jazz was waiting for him. The two teens walked outside and entered her car, a small convertible. He sat in the passenger seat and copied what Jazz did to strap her seatbelt, but his mind was still thinking about that photo of Danny he found. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "I saw him."

Jazz's hand stopped in the middle of turning the key in the ignition. "Saw who?"

"Danny," he told her.

Jazz pursed her lips. She started the car and drove. "If you saw him, then where is he now?"

"Your mom shot at him."

"What?"

"He's a ghost. I don't think she recognized him, but...well, he's dead."

Phantom finally learned what the seatbelt's function was when he lurched forward as Jazz suddenly stopped the car. She gripped the wheel in tight fists and breathed through flared nostrils. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't say that," she pleaded. "It was bad enough when I thought you... I thought you might die. But you didn't. You're alive."

Phantom felt guilt gnaw at him from hearing Jazz. What could he tell her other than Actually, your brother did die, oops haha, sorry?

Jazz took in a deep breath, then she kept driving like nothing happened. Phantom stayed quiet.

Eventually, the car stopped, and Jazz unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out. Phantom looked at the building they arrived at. Numerous humans around his general age were either milling about or going inside.

School. He never went to one himself, but he heard some stories from Sidney. They weren't nice stories.

Phantom gulped and exited the car. No sooner had he done that than he noticed the two teens rushing toward him.

"Danny!" that girl from last night said. What was her name...Sam. She hesitated and asked, "Do you...remember us?"

"You mean to ask if Danny is back," Phantom told her. That gave her the answer she needed, and she deflated.

Tucker glanced between them, then hooked his arm around Phantom's shoulder and said, "Hey, if you're amnesiac, you need someone to guide you through school again, right?"

"I'm not..." He sighed. Then he eyed the building warily and asked, "Are there bullies?"

"Oh, definitely," Tucker answered, which made his stomach sink.

His time at school actually went by pretty smoothly. He had wondered if anyone would notice that he wasn't Danny, but nobody paid him much attention, not even the teachers. He managed to breeze by two subjects already--one was math, which was admittedly gibberish to him, but Tucker told him no one understood it anyway. The second one he knew better--English literature. He had visited Ghostwriter's library a bunch of times in the Zone and knew about Lord of the Flies when the teacher asked him about it.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't remember your name, but you remember reading a class assignment?"

Phantom almost screamed out "I'm not Danny" again, but he held himself back. He knew they would never believe him, not unless...

"Look, Sam, Tucker," he said nervously. He wasn't sure if they would react the same way Jazz did, but considering how close friends they were, then they probably would. The two waited for him expectantly while he tried to pick out the right words. "Danny...your friend...he's--"

"Hey, Fentina!" a sharp voice interrupted him.

"Oh bother," Sam grumbled.

Confused, Phantom turned around to the source of the voice. What greeted him was a tall and muscular blonde human in a letterman's jacket, sneering down at him. "I didn't see you at the beginning of the school day. I think we have some beating to catch up on," he taunted and slammed a fist into his palm.

"Oh," Phantom said numbly. "You're a bully."

The blonde released a laugh that sounded like a pig getting choked. "Me, a bully? More like you're a loser who deserves to get bullied."

"That...makes no sense."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because blonde dude's face turned beet red, and he picked up Phantom by the collar and slammed him into a row of lockers. At this point, pain was becoming a constant in Phantom's new, stolen life.

"Lay off, Dash," Sam snapped at him.

"You lay off, Manson," Dash bit back. "I'm only interested in Fenturd here."

"I hear you mispronouncing Fenton a lot," Phantom said in spite of his nerves. "It's really not that hard a name to memorize."

Dash's face turned an even deeper shade of red, and he punched Phantom in the face. All Phantom could think was, Man, Danny would not be happy if he found out I broke his face. Then Dash opened a random locker and stuffed him inside.

"Have fun, FenTON," he yelled at him and slammed the locker door shut.

This was fine. Phantom could handle being trapped inside a tight space with no intangibility to bail him out. I mean, he was already trapped inside this body, wasn't he? Haha.

But after the first few minutes passed, he grew nervous. There was no way he would be left here forever, right? Oh, Ancients, he was going to die just like Sidney, alone in a school locker.

Apparently, that was not to be, because suddenly the air inside the locker grew colder. A soft green glow washed over it, and Phantom felt two cold hands grip his arms. A tingle ran across him. He recognized the sensation: intangibility. The arms pulled, and he was tugged through the locker wall and brought face to face with none other than Danny.

Phantom blinked. "You again."

Danny scowled. "You're still in my body."

"Well, yeah," Phantom said simply. "If I left, it would die."

Danny pulled him closer so he can feel his glare more intensely, probably. Phantom felt it all right, and he squinted his eyes because dear Clockwork, were ghost eyes always this bright?

"I asked you before, and I'm asking you again," Danny growled. "Give me back my body."

"And I already told you, I can't," Phantom retorted.

"Why not? It's mine!" His grip on Phantom's arms were tight now. "I can't live as a ghost!"

"I mean, technically you wouldn't really be living because--"

"I'm not dead!" Danny denied. "I can't...I can't be..."

His grip on Phantom felt weak now. His eyes were dimmer.

Phantom gulped and hesitantly patted Danny's arm in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "Hey, it's fine. Lots of ghosts I know went through a crisis when they died."

"Did they have parents who wanted to hunt them down?" Danny asked softly. Phantom paused and didn't know how to respond.

Well, they were alone, at least. The hallway was empty except for the two of them, and he had a feeling that whatever teacher he had would be wondering where Danny Fenton was. He wasn't sure if this fact was a good thing or a bad thing, because then Sam and Tucker would not see proof of their friend being dead, and he wasn't sure if that knowledge was good or bad.

"No," Danny said, snapping Phantom out of his thoughts. "No. I'm not going to stay like this while you live my life."

"But I already told you..." Phantom began, but Danny's eyes returned their brightness, and he stared directly at Phantom.

"I'm a ghost. I can possess stuff, right?"

Phantom's eyes widened, and that was all the answer Danny needed before he overshadowed him.

A minute later, the bell rung, and students filed out of classrooms. He heard footsteps approach him and turned around to see his friends.

"Thank god, you made it out!" Tucker said once he saw him. "I swear, I told Lancer that Dash stuffed you in a locker again, but he didn't believe me..." He trailed off and pointed out, "Your eyes are green."

"They are?" Danny asked. "Huh, that's weird. I'm not surprised about Mr. Lancer, though."

"Um, didn't you technically only meet him today or something?"

"Today? I wish," Danny said, rolling his green eyes. "That guy's been following our class since third grade."

Tucker gaped. "You remember?"

"Third grade? Unfortunately."

Sam was staring. She stepped forward. "Danny?" she slowly asked.

Danny grinned. "Hey, Sam."

She laughed and hugged him. "You're back! How?"

Danny shrugged. "Come on, you can't expect me to forget you forever, can you?"

Sam and Tucker smiled. Danny smiled. In the back of Danny's head, Phantom mentally frowned.

.

The day passed. Danny was back. He took his classes as always. He got bullied by Dash as always, but that didnt bother him much. Funny how small things become once you've literally died.

Not. Danny didn't die. He told himself that.

More than once, he felt a hand twitch on its own. He sent a mental frown to Phantom and told him, Why won't you leave already?

Dude, how many times do I have to explain to you that I can't?

But I'm in my own body now.

Temporarily. Overshadowing someone isn't the same as taking their body.

Danny tuned him out and continued with his day.

There was a price, however. Phantom tried to warn him, but he got ignored. As the day went by, Danny felt himself grow exhausted at an awfully quick pace.

Tucker noticed first. "Are you okay? You're breathing heavily, and it's not even P.E. yet."

"I'm fine," Danny panted, but he didn't look that way. His skin was pale and covered with sweat.

"No, you're not," Sam said with a frown. "It's the portal--you shouldn't be walking around school after a near-death accident like that."

"I'm not dead!" Danny snapped, shocking his friends with his sudden volume. He faltered. "I mean...I need to go use the bathroom."

They let him go, though their eyes followed his back as he left. He entered the nearest restroom he found and immediately splashed his face with water.

You should stop overshadowing me, Phantom suggested.

Danny scowled. He gripped the sink to steady his shaking hands. "I'm not overshadowing anyone. This is my body."

I'm not saying it's not, but right now, you're a ghost. Prolonged overshadowing isn't healthy.

Danny gritted his teeth. "So, what? I let you steal my life again?"

It's just until we can figure out how to switch us back, Phantom said, but Danny could tell when he lied.

"You don't think we can be switched back, can you?"

Phantom hesitated. Luckily for him, he didn't need to think of a reply--just then, Danny shivered, and a blue mist escaped from his mouth.

Danny frowned. "What was that?"

Oh no, Phantom thought.

Suddenly, a shrill voice cried out, "Trespasser!" Danny jumped and whipped around to face whoever spoke. He squinted his eyes and said, "Who the fuck?"

The speaker would have looked like a regular scrawny freshman, except his skin was gray and transparent, and his torso was sticking halfway through a closed bathroom stall. It was a ghost, obviously.

Truthfully, Danny was almost disappointed in how un-scary he seemed. As a child, he had nightmares about ghosts from the stories his parents told him, but the specter in front of him was far from intimidating. He looked like one of the geeks that Dash and his gang would have picked on if he were alive.

The ghost pointed a finger at Danny and repeated in his nasally voice, "Trespasser! This is my haunt."

Danny eyed the row of empty stalls and asked, "You mean the restroom?"

"Yes! I died in this place, and I chose to make it my haunt instead of going to the Ghost Zone. I don't need another ghost like you to take it from me!"

"Okay, Moaning Myrtle, calm down," Danny spoke. "Why would I even want to steal a restroom? Also, what do you mean by calling me a ghost?"

The ghost left his stall and floated over Danny with a scowl. "I'm not stupid. I can tell when a ghost is overshadowing someone. And if you would steal a body, then you would steal a haunt."

Danny bristled. "I didn't steal this body! It was mine in the first place."

"Oh, sure, and I bet you're going to say this haunt has always been yours!"

"I'm not interested in your fucking water closet!" Danny bit back. "And this body is mine! I was born in it. I lived in it. I...it can't belong to anyone else."

The ghost narrowed his eyes. Then he said, "You're a nasty ass liar, you know that?"

"I'm not lying!"

"Whatever! You're clearly overshadowing a human, and you're clearly still standing inside my haunt, so..."

Um, maybe you should leave the bathroom, Phantom suggested. But Danny stood his ground, glaring at the ghost with his fists by his side. He was tired of this--tired of his death being pointed out to him.

"What are you going to do about it, huh? Give me a swirly?" he gibed.

The ghost's expression darkened. He raised his arm, and several stalls began to rumble. Danny faltered, and his anger melted into apprehension.

Run, Phantom said. This time, Danny decided it was a good idea to listen.

He managed to make it halfway to the exit when all the stalls suddenly exploded. Jets of slightly glowing water burst forth and hit Danny in the back, pushing him the rest of the way out and also drenching him completely.

He sluggishly picked himself off the wet floor. When he glanced to his side, he saw Kwan pausing mid-step. "...I'll just use the restroom on the second floor," Kwan said, turned a 180 and left.

Danny flipped himself over and faced the ghost floating in the restroom's doorway. "I left your stupid washroom alone, so can you leave?" he barked.

"But how do I know you won't come back?" the ghost challenged. "And you're still overshadowing the poor human."

Danny laughed mirthlessly. "Poor human?"

The ghost didn't seem to understand the irony in that. He tackled Danny, phasing the both of them through the wall and into the adjacent hallway.

A few stragglers were still idling in the hallway when they burst in. At the sudden sight of the ghost, most of them screamed and scrambled away. Only a few stayed behind: some redheaded human in a basketball shirt, and Danny's friends, Sam and Tucker.

"Danny!" Sam called out and ran to his side. Tucker froze in place. He lifted a shaky finger at the toilet ghost and stammered, "That's a g-ghost."

The toilet ghost floated away from Danny and crossed his arms. "Yeah, duh," he replied. "I'm not the only one, though."

Tucker was about to ask him what he meant by that, but then Danny began to heave. Sam hovered over him worriedly, but even she had to step away when his coughing became intense. He lurched over--then coughed himself out of his body.

Ghost Danny popped out and landed on the floor. Behind him, Phantom sighed and fell onto his side.

Sam gaped and stared between them, her mouth forming wordless questions, before she gulped and said to Danny, "Phantom?"

Danny frowned and said, "No, I'm Danny! He's Phantom." He pointed at the person inside his human body.

Sam chuckled weakly. "I think you must be confused. He's Danny, because he's a human. And you're Phantom, because youre a g..."

"He's right," Phantom interrupted from his spot on the floor. He pushed himself up, still panting heavily, and said, "That's what I've been trying to tell you. I'm not Danny. He is."

Sam stared at him, then back at Danny. "But...but that would mean--" She trailed off, and her face turned pale.

Whatever heartfelt conversation might have followed was cut off by another splash of water aimed at Danny. He growled and turned on the toilet ghost. "Will you go already?"

The ghost's fists were surrounded by swirling water (which Danny really hoped was clean). He shook his head and barked at him, "Not until you leave this school."

"The school? I thought your haunt was only the restroom."

"It was! But then you made fun of it, so I've decided to make this entire building my territory!"

He shot another beam of water at Danny. Danny grinded his teeth and wished the water would stop in mid-air...and to his surprise, it did. A transparent green shield suddenly appeared in front of him, blocking the water and keeping him dry. Danny blinked and floated back in surprise, and the shield dissapeared.

Phantom was watching him with interest. When the shield disappeared, he called out to Danny and told him, "Use your ghost rays!"

"My what?" was Danny's response right before another jet of water came at him. This time, he didn't summon an ecto-shield in time, and he got slammed back against a row of lockers. As he picked himself up, he noticed that redhead from earlier, who had been staring, trembling, as the whole encounter went down. Ah, fuck, what was his name again? He was in Danny's P.E. class. The poor boy was shivering like a leaf, which made sense--Danny would have done the same if he saw a real ghost when he was still human.

The toilet ghost approached Danny, but stopped and scowled at the redhead. "Leave, human," he ordered. "This doesn't involve you."

The guy (His name started with a W, Danny remembered. Walt? Wes?) stared at the ghost for a moment, then hurriedly nodded and ran. That left the ghost flying in front of Danny.

"Your ghost ray!" Phantom repeated from behind the toilet ghost, as if that would make Danny understand what he was saying. "Just think about shooting him with your hands!"

Shooting him...with his hands? That made no sense, but Danny did as he was told. He made a finger gun and aimed it at the ghost, then imagined a pew! pew! come out.

Pew! came out the ray and shot the ghost right at his chest.

The opponent had only time to widen his eyes before he was slammed against the opposite wall and dissolved into (grossly) glowing water.

Danny slowly blinked. "...Functioning fingerguns," he said. "That's useful."

"What the actual fuck, dude?"

He turned and saw Tucker approach him, wearing a bewildered expression. He gestured wildly to Danny and said, "You're a ghost now? And your body is conscious on its own?"

"Actually, it's conscious because a ghost is inside," he replied, not-so-subtly glaring at Phantom as he said so.

Phantom threw his (or Danny's...whatever) arms up and said, "I didn't choose to be stuck in your body, okay? It was an accident."

Tucker rubbed his forehead. "I still don't understand. How is all this happenning?"

Before either Danny could speak, Sam's voice suddenly cut through and said, "I killed you."

Danny stared at Sam. She was hugging her arms, eyes downcast, and still looked pale as a sheet. "You're a ghost," she said softly. "That means you've died. And I killed you."

Danny felt that same tightness in his chest, not exactly squeezing any heart, but something similar. "I'm not dead," he tried again, but after repeating that sentence so many times, the lie sounded weak even to himself.

Phantom sent him a pitying gaze. Sam bit her lips and squeezed herself tighter. "Yes, you are. It was the portal accident. Somehow, you died and got replaced by...whoever this is." She gestured weakly to Phantom, then choked up and continued in a wavering voice, "It was my fault. I told you to go inside that portal. You're--you're dead, because of me. I killed you."

Seeing her like that, hearing her, made any sorry feelings Danny had for himself disappear. All he cared about was wiping that melancholy from his friend's eyes. "No," he told her firmly. "It wasn't your fault. I agreed. I--" A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed it down before saying, "I'm dead because of my own fault."

He could feel Phantom's eyes boring into him. Probably, that ghost (ex-ghost?) was thinking something along the lines of Fucking finally! You admit it to yourself at last, but the emotional intensity of the situation was likely what prevented him from voicing that thought out loud.

Sam raised her eyes and met his sadly. Tucker stepped forward, his brows drawn together. "But...but that can't be it!" he protested. He grabbed Phantom's arm and pointed out, "Your body is still alive, isn't it? Can't we...I dont know...redo the accident so it gets you back in your body the same way Phantom got inside yours?"

Danny perked up and felt a sliver of hope grow inside him, but Phantom was quick to shake his head and say, "That won't be so easy. The Ghost Zone is always shifting. Whatever spot I was in when the portal thing happened, it won't be the same place for Danny."

"Oh," Tucker said, deflating. His eyes turned downcast, and his hands fell limply off Phantom's arm. "I guess it can be it, then."

Phantom looked at the trio of friends, their broken expressions. He honestly didn't see what the big fuss was about, but he hated seeing them so sad, so he hurriedly added in a forcefully positive tone, "That's okay, though! Difficult doesn't have to mean impossible! I'm sure we can...uh..."

He trailed off after spotting a person at the end of the hallway. Confused, Danny turned to see who he was looking at. He found his sister, slack-jawed, her eyes darting between him and Phantom.

"Jazz!" he said, then looked down and noticed his ghostly appearance. "Um, I can explain."

Jazz didn't leave him room to, because she promptly fainted.

Danny rushed forward to grab her, but of course, she fell right through his arms. He winced when she hit her face on the hard floor. Tucker came forward and checked her.

"She's fine," he said with a cross between a smile and a grimace.

.

Jazz's eyes fluttered awake. She groaned and turned her head to the side. On the wall next to her was a silly cartoon infographic of flu symptoms. It took her mind a minute to recognize it, but she was at the school infirmary.

"You're awake?" asked a voice nearby. She turned her head to the other side and saw her brother's face.

"Danny..." She frowned and sat up on the infirmary bed. Her face hurt. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

Jazz tried to recall what brought her here. She remembered seeing seeing Danny, and...ghost Danny? She shook her head. "Must have been a dream," she mumbled.

"What?"

She saw Danny watching her curiously. She sighed and ran a hand across her face, which still ached for some reason. "I remember seeing you standing next to your ghost. I think you might have...died. But that couldn't have been possible."

"You think that was a dream."

Danny's expression was unreadable. Jazz frowned. "It had to be. Ghosts aren't real." Mentally, she added, I hope not.

Danny averted his eyes from her. She wondered if she said something wrong, but then Danny stood up from his chair and said, "You slipped and hit your face, so we brought you to the school nurse. You need some rest...I'll leave you alone."

It sounded reasonable enough, but something nagged at her. Danny wouldn't meet her eyes, instead choosing to fidget with the hem of his shirt. She had a feeling he was lying.

"Danny," she called. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Her brother stiffened. It looked like he was about to say something, but he must have changed his mind at the last minute because he left the room wordlessly.

.

Phantom exited the school infirmary. "She's okay," he told the air.

Danny visualized in front of him, wearing a frown. "I heard what went down. She thinks it wasn't real."

Phantom shrugged. He felt a little bad, but he wasn't sure he could handle her reaction if he told her that her brother was really dead...again. The first time he tried didn't go so cheerfully.

"Where are your friends?" Phantom asked, choosing to change the subject.

"You mean Sam and Tuck? What do you think?" He chuckled humorlessly, then gazed at his boots and murmured, "They just discovered that ghosts exist and their friend is dead. Of course they needed some time to process that."

Phantom bit his lip. "We'll find some way to switch us back. Maybe."

That "maybe" didn't sound so reassuring, and Danny didn't look reassured. Phantom grimaced and tried to think of a better way to lift his spirits, but then he heard footsteps approach. Danny made himself invisible while Phantom turned around and saw a familiar couple in orange and teal come toward them.

"Danno!" Danny's dad greeted him. "The school called--is Jazzy-pants alright?"

"She's fine," Phantom said with a steady voice. "She just had some low blood sugar is all."

The man patted his shoulder, then entered the room where Jazz was held. His wife went to follow him, but Phantom stopped her by calling, "Uh...Mom."

She spun to him and smiled. "What is it, sweetie?"

Phantom hesitated. He fidgeted with his shirt and asked, "Did you really mean what you said last night--about all ghosts being bad?"

The woman frowned. "Of course I did. Was I wrong?"

"It's just, well..." He focused on a random locker and said, "What if your son...I mean, what if I became a ghost? What would you do to me then?"

He braved a glance at her and saw a shadow cross her expression. She hesitated for a moment before replying carefully, "I don't like to think about that. I choose to believe that when you die, it won't be violent. I'll make sure of that." She forced a smile, then ruffled Phantom's hair and added, "But that doesn't matter right now. You're still alive and human. As long as you're with me, then I know that any ghost who looks like you is an imposter."

Phantom's stomach sank, and he swallowed down a lump that formed in his throat. Danny's mom only smiled at him once more before she followed her husband to see Jazz.

Danny didn't reappear. Phantom didn't see him for the rest of the day. But in that moment, he thought he heard a choked sob come from the air behind him.

[thefatteningpicture]

Rolo leaves Fifi’s house completely stuffed and very happy... until, when trying to pick a coin, his pants rip off. This is when he realizes he really got too fat. He meets Tina, and hearing that he actually ate an entire piglet at Fifi’s house, she decides to just give up on him, much to Rolo’s dismay. So he decides to confront Fifi himself (after changing pants of course). 

Fifi takes it very badly. She can’t stand Rolo asking her to cook less, saying that if he doesn’t love her food he doesn’t love her, and threatening to go back with her ex-boyfriend, who never complained once about her food. Rolo asks then why did they broke up - and she explains it was Fifi’s mother that basically pushed the boy away because he “ate too much”.

Rolo ends up breaking up with Fifi and when Tina sees him later he is back to his normal weight... if not a bit thinner and definitively “paler” than usual. Now Tina worries that he isn’t eating enough, and Rolo explains that indeed with his new girlfriend he eats barely anything... he then picks up his purchase: nails. To put on his girlfriend’s bed. 

Because she’s a fakir.

THE END *drum noises*

If you want to know more about this little comic, its title is “O peso de um namoro”, from the 162nd issue of “Gibi Parque da Mônica”, in june 2006.

You can find the full story on the Monica comic’s official Instagram page.

Part 1: https://www.instagram.com/p/CEmGeEZHHnF/

And part 2: https://www.instagram.com/p/CEmGUG9nuIC/

[stiltonbasket]

chancellor of the morning sun: lecture (adulthood)

In which Lan Xichen throws down with Jin Zixuan; or, part 6 of the nielan au that has completely taken over my brain.  

Part 1 | Part 2: Lesson (Youth) | Part 3: First Meeting, Mingjue (Childhood) | Part 4: First Meeting, Xichen (Childhood) | Part 5: Defense (Reconstruction) | AO3

At the risk of offending her little brother, Lan Xichen often reflects on the fact that Wei Wuxian would probably love to break every last one of the Lan sect precepts, simply for the sake of doing it.

Wei Wuxian—Jiang Fengmian’s ward and adopted son, and coincidentally the same little boy who threw roses at Wangji’s head during that discussion conference in Qishan—is exactly the sort of person her uncle would run a li or two in very tight shoes to avoid, still not ready to contemplate the fact that Cangse Sanren was no longer among the living. An unfortunate incident in Caiyi (with some tea served in a cup that had previously held heavy liquor, and not been washed well enough later) had told Lan Xichen all she needed to know about that, especially when Shufu revealed that he still saw the flare of Cangse Sanren’s bright sword in his dreams when he thought of her before sleeping.

“Why did you not declare your suit then, Shufu?” Xichen asked, praying that her uncle would forget the conversation entirely when he sobered up in an hour or two. “You loved her, didn’t you?”

“I was seventeen, and she was four-and-twenty,” he replied. “I was a child to her, as Jiang Fengmian was, and I was unsuited in another way, though I did not know it then.”

But Lan Qiren had truly grieved on that dark night thirteen years ago when word came from Yunmeng Jiang announcing the deaths of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, and it was the only time save the morning of her mother’s passing that Xichen ever saw her uncle cry.

(He had not cried a drop when her father died; his brother’s fate had filled him with such wrath at the men who forced it on him that all Lan Qiren said after Qingheng-jun was buried was that he would not let the elders touch Lan Huan, or little A-Zhan, even if he had to tear himself apart for it.)

Lan Zhan is much like their uncle, now that Lan Xichen thinks about it. He has the same intolerance for lawlessness and disorder, the same helpless weakness for people who are bold, and brash, and free—so is it really any wonder that he seems to have fallen desperately in love with Wei Wuxian? 

Xichen believes that it isn’t, especially now that her precious didi is doing the Wangji equivalent of wringing his hands—that is, white-knuckling his sword, whose hilt usually suffers most whenever her brother is out of sorts—and pleading with her to speak to their uncle and lessen Wei Wuxian’s latest punishment, which seems to have been the result of an all-out brawl with Jin Zixuan the previous evening. 

“I was informed that Young Master Wei ‘left a bruise the size of his fist’ on Jin Zixuan’s face, and struck him unprovoked,” she says, lifting a curious brow at him. “Last I heard, all Shufu told him to do was kneel in the courtyard outside his receiving chamber and reflect on his ill temper. What is so harsh about that?”

“Shufu has summoned Jin Guangshan and Jiang-zongzhu here to discuss the matter with them,” Wangji insists. “And—I was not there, but Wei Ying’s third disciple brother reported that Jin Zixuan slighted Lady Jiang before his whole delegation, and that Wei Ying began fighting with him for that reason. Surely that cannot be such a grave offense that Wei Ying must be expelled from the Cloud Recesses, Jie?”

Lan Xichen feels her heart melt. “No, it is not. But since Jiang-zongzhu and Jin-zongzhu are both here, then it must be about the marriage between Jin Zixuan and Jiang-guniang, and not anything to do with Wei Wuxian. We had already invited Jiang-zongzhu, remember?”

Her brother nods. “Yes, A-Jie. This brother shall take his leave now, then, and disturb you no further.”

“Wait, Wangji. You mentioned that Wei Wuxian’s third shidi witnessed the encounter between the boys?” she asks, her mind already on other matters now that Wangji seems to have cheered up a little. “Would that be Yu Zhenhong, or Dai Lingyi?”

“Yu Zhenhong, I believe. He is in your cultivation history lecture, is he not?”

“I had rather hoped it would be him,” Xichen confesses, rising to her feet. “Wangji, I must trouble you to go and fetch the boy at once, and then bring whomever among the Jin disciples you deem most trustworthy. I would hear an account of it all from them, if it is possible.”

Wangji bows before hurrying off, as he began doing the very day she was instated as Sect Leader Lan four years ago; Xichen had tried to argue with him, insisting that he was still her precious baby brother and ought never to bow to her except when they were in public, but their uncle claimed that Wangji must not fail to show her full deference even when they were alone. The elders would leap upon even a spark of discourtesy from Wangji or even from Shufu himself and use it to undermine her, he said, or press her into yielding her seat to Wangji before she married and moved to Qinghe, or worse, before Wangji was ready, which would leave the council in power yet again. 

But what none of the council knows is that Nie Mingjue has been the recipient of many midnight letters detailing Lan Xichen’s predicament, and that he even asked his father to move their wedding from Xichen’s eighteenth year to the seventh year after that. Nie Huangyin wanted to see his son with a child of his own as soon as Gusu Lan would permit it, not knowing that they would have sent Xichen away before she turned eighteen if he dared voice his wish—but Mingjue begged him to postpone the marriage on bended knee, telling him that it would break her heart to leave Wangji behind when he was only fourteen, and to never have the chance to lead her clan when she fought so valiantly to earn the standing a man would have commanded by the fact of his birth.

It was this last that softened Nie Huangyin’s resolve, since his respect for the place Xichen would someday have (as his heir’s wife, and the mother of his grandchildren, as well as the future of his line) was surpassed only by his regard for the place she already held as the first heir to Gusu Lan and its future sect leader. 

And then Nie Huangyin died two years before Xichen ascended as Lan-zongzhu, and Mingjue’s first state journey as Sect Leader Nie had been to the Cloud Recesses, to demand that the betrothal contract be altered to permit him to wed Lan Huan as soon or as late as he liked. 

“But your father stipulated that it should be no later than—”

“I am in mourning. It may take a very long time before I can emerge from my grief well enough to look after a wife and children,” Mingjue interrupted, stopping the first elder who dared voice an objection dead in his tracks. “Perhaps it will be ten years from now, instead of nine. Or maybe twelve. I have not yet realized the depths of my sorrow, for it grows worse every day.”

“Surely you would not leave the most precious flower of our sect unwed for so long!” another elder jumped in, looking completely outraged. “Wedding her at twenty-five was bad enough, but for you to come asking to wait longer still! What is wrong with Lan Huan, in your eyes? Would you have her watch all the maidens her age gain the titles of wife and mother, while she must remain an old maid until you see fit to marry her?”

“I think far too highly of Sect Heir Lan to bring her to a household still darkened with the pain of the previous Nie-zongzhu’s passing,” Nie Mingjue said flatly, throwing Lan Xichen a conspiratorial look that none of the council but Shufu could see. “When I bring her to the Unclean Realm as my bride, it will because I, and she, have both agreed that it is the proper time.”

What a blessing of fate it was, that I was promised to Mingjue-xiong, Xichen thinks now, pondering over the matter between Jiang Yanli and her intended, who seems to struggle with showing the poor girl even the barest courtesy. If it had been anyone else—anyone, at all—

“A-Jie?” Wangji calls from outside the door, pulling her out of her musings as she hurries to let him in. “I have brought Yu-gongzi and one of the Jin disciples, as you requested.”

But for some reason, Wangji seems to have brought three disciples along instead of two. One is Yu Zhenhong, who looks like a paler, sharper-faced version of Jiang Wanyin, and the second is the Jin clan’s head disciple, Luo Qingyang; but the third is a young girl from the Jiang clan, who seems to be the only one among the three with a weapon at her waist. Xichen quickly places her as Wei Wuxian’s first shimei, Li Shuai, and realizes with amused surprise that this is the maiden who smuggled Emperor’s Smile into the Cloud Recesses last month so that her da-shixiong and er-shixiong could have a forbidden party with it. 

“Lan-zongzhu,” the disciples chorus, making her a deep, formal bow before Yu Zhenhong steps forward. “Zewu-xianzi, how may we be of assistance? Second Young Master Lan informed me that you needed us for something.”

“I do,” she says, inclining her head. “I would have your account of the disagreement between Young Master Jin and Young Master Wei, up until the point they were interrupted by Wangji and Maiden Jiang.”

The three accounts coincide exactly, though Luo Qingyang has more to tell regarding the remarks Jin Zixuan made about Jiang-guniang before Wei Wuxian arrived on the scene. Xichen listens to them all in some distress before sending the disciples back about their business, and then she fights the temptation to down a whole pot of tea before turning back to her brother. “Where is Jin Zixuan now, A-Zhan?”

“Kneeling in a courtyard across from the one where Wei Ying is,” Wangji says, confused. “What of him?”

“Go bring him to me,” she orders. “I rather fancy his betrothal will be dissolved before the day is out, but I must speak with him first.”

Wangji makes off without a word, reappearing again five minutes later with a very irate Jin Zixuan beside him. It is impossible to tell that the two of them are three years apart, by now; Wangji and Jin Zixuan are of the same height, and Wangji’s collected calm belies his age to the point where he looks closer to Lan Xichen’s two and twenty years instead of eighteen. 

“You may go, A-Zhan,” Lan Xichen says gently, favoring her brother with a tender smile as he bows and slips out again: probably to comfort Wei Wuxian, if she had to guess. “And you, young master Jin—you may sit at that table there, and reflect while I brew some tea.”

Much confused, Jin Zixuan does, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the table in front of him while Lan Xichen heats a pot of water and lays out her favorite xiangqi board. Once the tea is ready, she calls Jin Zixuan up to her table and watches as he fills her cup and the one she put aside for him—and then she moves her first piece and directs him to do the same, trying not to sigh as he glances uncertainly at the board and moves his chariot. 

“Um, Lan-zongzhu, what—”

“I was informed that you have some objection to your future marriage to Maiden Jiang,” she interrupts, cutting him off so smoothly that he scarcely seems to notice. “I find myself curious as to your reasons why, since I have known Jiang Yanli for many years and never run across any defect in her character at all.”

Jin Zixuan’s face goes purple. “Zewu-xianzi, that…”

“Is it that she is too kind for you?” Xichen muses aloud. She moves another piece, and looks at Jin Zixuan with lifted brows until he does the same. “Or, perhaps, that she smiles too much?”

“I—”

“I would like to hear you out fully, Jin-gongzi. What objection do you have to Jiang Yanli?”

His cheeks go even darker, and he lowers his eyes back to the xiangqi board before speaking again. Lan Xichen knows all his reasons in full, of course, and finds herself thoroughly disappointed in them; she began to have a better opinion of Jin Zixuan when he treated Meng Yao with courtesy the last time he visited Qinghe Nie, despite knowing full well that he and A-Yao are half-brothers and that A-Yao is the elder between them, but if matters proceed as Xichen fears they will, that good opinion might not even last the day. “Jin-gongzi!”

“Zewu-xianzi, I…”

“I will spare you the disgrace of having to speak such words again, then,” she says, motioning him to pour her another cup of tea. “Yu Zhenhong of Yunmeng Jiang—your intended’s cousin, and nephew to her mother—has already been to tell me about them, along with your own head disciple, who has always been devoted to you, from what I know of her.”

“Mianmian was here?” Jin Zixuan asks, finally looking up with something close to shame in his eyes. “She—told you everything?”

“That you think Jiang-guniang is too plain for your tastes, that her cultivation is too low for you, that her character is too timid and too weak, that she is too foolish over her brothers, that she is too attached to you, despite having known you since infancy, and that you would be her husband for exactly as long,” Lan Xichen counts off. “Luo-guniang told me all that, and more, but I would rather not say such things myself. Especially not about such an admirable girl as Yanli is.”

Jin Zixuan shuts his mouth again. A wonderful improvement on his usual state, Xichen thinks, even if she won’t say so. 

“Jin-gongzi,” she says instead, “surely you must know that Jiang-guniang has no more choice in this marriage than you do, since it was contracted by your mothers even before they were married?”

“She likes it!” Jin Zixuan protests at last, goaded past the bounds of courtesy. “All our lives, she—even when we were children, she was always trying to make me soup, and get me to play with her brothers, no matter how much I tried to put her off! It might as well be a marriage of choice, on her part, and even though my mother will not hear of me breaking the engagement, Jiang-zongzhu would do it in a heartbeat if Jiang Yanli asked him to! She knows I want nothing of it—she has always known—but never, never has she had the courtesy to say so!”

Lan Xichen only raises her eyebrows at him. “Lan-zongzhu,” Jin Zixuan appends hastily. 

“I see,” she observes. “What is it that Jiang-guniang likes about you, then?”

“...What?”

“Luo-guniang told me what you dislike about Maiden Jiang. So I must ask, Jin Zixuan—what does she like about you?”

The boy seems more confused than ever, somehow, and Xichen holds back a sigh before framing the question differently. “What advantages do you believe she would gain upon marrying you?”

“She would become Young Madam Jin, second mistress of the wealthiest sect after Qishan Wen,” Jin Zixuan replies at once, looking stunned that Lan Xichen even asked. “Once I took my father’s place, she would become the wife of a sect leader.”

“And?”

“She would...never want for anything?” he says uncertainly. “Not jewels, nor silks, nor any of the things that are dear to women. Her children would want for nothing, and she would be assured of their future.”

“How is that any different from what she is assured now?”

Jin Zixuan only looks bewildered again. “As the Young Mistress of Yunmeng Jiang, she…”

“Jiang Yanli has little fondness for material things,” Lan Xichen dismisses him. “She wears only plain jewels and a single ornament in her hair, and I have never seen her pass a beggar in the street without giving out enough coin for a day’s food. Nor has she any desire for power, since most of her work in Yunmeng concerns the education of children whose parents cannot teach them, and apprenticeships for women without family to care for them.

“And even if she did care for gold, and for power...her brothers worship the ground under her feet, as does her father, and I doubt there is anything Jiang Fengmian has ever denied her. Or that Jiang Wanyin ever will, when he becomes sect leader. With things between you two as they are, does she not have more power in Yunmeng Jiang, with her family supporting the ventures she chooses, than she could ever hope for as the mistress of Lanling?”

“Mother would give her that power, she wouldn’t have to ask me for it,” Jin Zixuan protests weakly. “Mother adores her, because she and Yu-furen have been friends since they were children.”

“But when the reins of the Jin sect lie in your hands alone, what then? Would she humble herself so, to ask anything of a husband whom she must know dislikes her?”

Jin Zixuan opens his mouth and then shuts it again. He looks very lost, somehow, as if he had wandered into a forest expecting to find rabbits before being accosted by a flesh-eating tiger instead.

Xichen drains the last of her tea and pointedly clears her throat. “So now that we have established that the greatest virtues of Lanling Jin hold no charm for Maiden Jiang, what do you have to offer her?”

“I...I…”

She finds herself losing her patience, then. “Do you remember the day we first met, Jin Zixuan? I had just recited twenty minutes’ worth of poetry at a discussion conference, as part of an elocution contest held among all the maidens past ten years of age who were present. Jiang Yanli performed first—and did very admirably, I might add—and she glanced towards you once hoping for a smile or a nod to encourage her, which she did not receive. But she held her own and finished her recitation magnificently, and I took the stage after her—and then I saw you looking at me, and I thought you were enchanted by the piece I had chosen. It was a fine one, written by my uncle when he was a youth, and I was glad that someone approved of it, even if it was only a boy of nine who would not even try to be friends with his betrothed. 

“And then, after the contest was over, Qin Su invited me to come and take tea with her and her mother, so I stepped into the room next door to attend them,” Lan Xichen says icily, watching Jin Zixuan quail before her with a savage sort of pleasure. “The moment I was gone, you turned to your father, and asked if you could marry Maiden Lan, since you thought she suited you better than Maiden Jiang. Can you imagine what reason you gave him, Jin-gongzi?”

“Zewu-xianzi, please—”

“It was not the elocution I was displaying that night, or any perceived superiority in character. Rather, the only reason you gave for wanting a new maiden over the one you had known for years, and who had been nothing but kind to you, was that you thought the second one was pretty. Two girls, both feeling and thinking and breathing beings, reduced to nothing but the comeliness of their features, and the worst thing was that you said it as if it were the most natural idea in the world.

“I was called the jewel of Gusu Lan, accomplished beyond anything my sect had hoped—or even wanted—for my age, but when I heard you ask your father for me, like I was a bauble on a shelf and not a person, I nearly buried my head in my arms and cried. And then I admired Jiang Yanli even more than I already did, for having stood such treatment time and time again from the boy who was meant to be her husband and the father of her children, for all the rest of her days—without so much as a tear, or a frown. 

“You forgot the thought of marrying me soon enough, thank Heaven, and you were always respectful towards me after that. But your treatment of your intended never improved, though it has been twelve years since then—and you would have me believe that Wei Wuxian was in the wrong, for challenging you?”

Jin Zixuan bows his head and says nothing. His lips are quivering, Lan Xichen notices, and his cheeks are flushed in sheer mortification; if he were five or six years younger, he might have burst into tears on the spot, and she feels her heart twinge a little at her harshness as the quaking of his mouth grows more obvious. 

But then she remembers the look on Jiang Yanli’s face last night, and Wei Wuxian’s insistence that he only forgot his entrance token that first afternoon because the Jin delegation had ejected him and his martial siblings from the inn they were staying at, despite the fact that there were five or six empty rooms after the Jins were accommodated. 

If Wei Wuxian spoke truly—and Lan Xichen highly doubts that he did not—Jin Zixuan turned his own betrothed out into the street when there were no inns remaining but the one he had taken rooms in, simply because he did not wish to share an entire house with her, and Jiang Yanli bore it with nothing but a reminder to her brothers to maintain their dignity before outsiders. 

“Your betrothal contract will be dissolved by tonight, if my knowledge of Jiang-zongzhu holds true,” she says at last, pouring herself a fourth cup of tea. “Any change in heart will be too late for Maiden Jiang, or your engagement with her. But you will marry someone sometime, so perhaps that maiden will have better luck with you than Jiang-guniang did.”

Lan Xichen looks at the candle-clock burning on the table, and then at the sky outside her window. Jin Guangshan ought to have finished discussing the betrothal now, which means that it must be time for her to go explain the appearance of the Yin iron to Jiang Fengmian—but there is still something more she must say to Jin Zixuan, though it might just go over his head entirely.

“You are dismissed, Young Master Jin. But before you leave, consider this—when Nie Mingjue was betrothed to me, the engagement was settled by my clan and the previous Nie-zongzhu, and neither Chifeng-zun nor I had any choice in the matter. We had not met at the time, but all he wanted to know about me was whether I would be kind to Huaisang, and once his father said that I would be, Nie Mingjue was content.

“Perhaps you will have a good answer for what you seek in a wife, when the time comes for you to find one again.”

And then she gets up and sweeps off down the corridor to her uncle’s chambers, leaving Jin Zixuan frozen at the xiangqi board in her wake, and hopes that he will remember at least something of what she has told him—for his sake as well as Jiang Yanli’s. 

[slytherinsarcasam]

The short story of love

This is a mini fanfiction of how me and my girlfriend got together. Almost all the names are changed for privacy purposes but are based on me and my friends. This fan fiction came to be after me and my girlfriend released that we had been acting like some fan fiction characters based on our own fan fiction named Da Fanfiction. I hope you all enjoy :)

@justnerdystuffs I hope you enjoy bc this is for you like my entire heart is yours❤️❤️❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes that may occur, but sadly I am a Norweegan that is not totally fluent in English as well as having a keyboard that is willing to ruin the day for me at any given moment.

Sonja had just started her new school year, and she could not say she was a happy camper. But not bothering to care right now she traced down the hallway to her favorite spot in the entire school. Entering she could already see that Anne and Stina was there, and Sonja choose to promptly sit down and wait for the rest of their friends.

Inca was the last to enter, not that this surprised Sonja as the girl had a tendency to talk to everybody she knows, but that was just a part of her charm Sonja supposed. But today something new happened. Inca had brought another person. Sonja looked at the other girl;

She had blond hair, that was so different from Sonjas dark brown hair. And while the both of them had blue eyes, they where still so different compared to Sonjas dark blue eyes, the new girls eyes looked almost like the sky. She was also taller than Sonja something Sonja was not so pleased about, how come she was doomed to be the small one??? The new girl was also paler, now that did not surprise Sonja as she knew her tan was something that made people think she was from another country. Sonja observed the girl for a few more seconds and had to admit that the girl was simply stunning, but Sonja already knew she was waaaay out of her league.

Finally focusing back at her friend she was able to catch the newcomers name, Emma, Emma was her name.

Sonja got a small smirk on her face and scooted over to where Emma was sitting on the couch;

«Well Hello there Emma, my name is Sonja and I have a question for you…. Are you willing to join this madhouse?»

Emma looked around in the room Inca had dragged her into, the room was filled a few other girls. Emma looked at Inca, she had only know the other girl for 2 days, but as she was a person from same place as her it was like that had know each other for a while.

In the room there was 3 other girls, and all of them looked as her as they entered. After being introduced by Inca she sat down on one of the two couches, as she sat dow the «leader/mom friend» scooted over to her from the floor.

Emma looked at her as she introduced herself and was then dragged down in a downwards spiral of looking at Sonjas drawings. But they all seemed nice enough, so Emma was not about run and hide.

It was a few days later, and somehow Sonja had ended up taking the bus with Emma to school, oh Sonja knew what her parents would do if they found out, but then again Sonja was not about to let them find out anyway.

Now Sonja was already getting to know Emma and had to be honest with herself. She thought that Emma was awesome. The other girl was just as fluent in sarcasm as herself and their humor seemed to blend well. And their mutual love for fan fictions was fitting as well.

They seemed to have started something of a norm as well, everyday one of them messaged the other to take the bus together, it was nice in Sonjas opinion. But to herself Sonja had to be honest, she could feel herself being more attracted to Emma than what she first thought, but she knew she would be fine as long as it did not escalate.

Oh boi how wrong she was about to be…….

It was a few weeks later and they were now nearing spooky seasons, and Sonja wanted to be swallowed hole by the ground. God dammit she hated herself. She had told herself not to fall for Emma, to forget the crush and the sweet messages they sent each other, did she listen? Noooooooooo, hence why Sonja was mentally banging her head in the table since she knew both Inca and Emma would stop her from doing so, at least Anne would let her loose half a dozen brain cells.

Well the good news was that Sonja and Emma had just starting writing a fan fiction together, or that was good for them, not the rest of their poor friends. By this point Anne was getting real tired of their talking, and Sonja could clearly see why, but then again she got so carried away when they first started.

It was a few days later when Sonja had one of the conversations she dreaded more than anything, it wasn’t because of the person. No it was because of the topic, and that happened to be about Crushes, oh how the faiths hated her. But since she was talking to Emma, while walking to school she couldn’t do much about it. Listening to Emma, she had to be honest and say she most likely paid a lot of attention to the other girl, what could she say; she tended to get a tad bit jealous at times. But the uninventable had to come, of course it had. Did she have a crush? Oh yes she had, sadly to the person she was taking to, a person she adored greatly, was she going to tell the truth? Not ecxsactly, nope, Emma had to settle for some half mystic answer for now.

Emma thought that all of the older years was interesting, and she could vibe with any of them. But at the moment that wasn’t her main priority.

No at the moment she was focusing on something else. Emma had just started writing with Sonja, and she wanted to laugh, they were geniuses, and the fan fiction they were writing? Pure fucking gold. The name of their Johnlock fan fitting was amply named Da fan fiction, the name being the curtesy of Sonja. Actually Emma had to admit that she was having a lot of fun with it, sadly for Anne at this point, the poor girl properly wanted to kill them both by this point.

On another note, Sonja was acting kind of weird, nothing new but non the less weird. The girl was simply refusing to tell her who her crush are, suspicious was it not? But then again it was her life. But then the world called back to her and her thoughts had to rest for now.

But Sonja had to be honest, she knew herself well enough that by one point she would just straight up end up with kissing Emma if this escalated any further, so the next best option was to tell some close friend and get help in how to tell Emma. Sonja might not be the brightest person, but she was bright enough to know she needed help. But as always Sonja ran into another problem, she was simply a bit to proud to ask for help from friends, dammed her Slytherin traits, the next best option would be the hell-spawn for an app, Tumblr.

Guess she was going there for help then, well at least it was better than admitting her defeat at the moment, Sonja believed that not even she would be able to survive the teasing between Inca and Anne, and once again she wanted to curse her own little black heart. Ofcourse she had to fall for another girl, a girl that most likely only thought of her as a friend. Sonja was simply put: Fucked.

After going to the hell-site asking for help, Sonja wanted to jump through the window, Emma be dammed, she had asked if could help, Sonja had to admit she was flattered, but unless Emma was willing to be her girlfriend, then there wasn’t a lot to do. Well at least she had gotten tips from others as well, from this day one it seemed like Emma was going to get a lot of compliments from her.

As all these thought swirled around in her head, another thought struck Sonja, what will their friends say, Sonja did not think they would have anything against it, but she had a sneaking suspicion that one or more of them knew. But at this point Sonja did not have time to dwell on it, she had a person to woo.

Emma noticed how Sonja had started to give her more compliments, nothing wrong with that. But Emma was confused. Was she flirting? Emma could not be certain as Sonja had a tendency to do what she would call platonic flirting, as in Sonja flirted with all their friends in some way or another. So yes Emma could not be certain

It had gone another few weeks and Sonja was about to rip her hair out, god dammit, she knew she had fallen more and more for Emma, seeing the girl in the library the other day and feeling her breath catch was enough clue of that. But damn that girl was dense, it was like she wasn’t noticing the fact that Sonja was trying very hard to flirt with her without using sarcasm, well desperate times called for desperate measures did it not?

Seemed like she was going to need to tell someone. Seeing that she needed help made Sonja frown a little. Knowing that she would never live it down if she was to tell Anne she chose the safer option with telling Inca and Stina, it seemed to help however at Inca was able to calm some of her fears, and Stina offered to help her.

On that noe She was flattered though, it was nice to be complimented by the other girl, it was sweet even. But Emma thought at it as platonic because why would Sonja ever feel that way.

It had gone another few weeks and Sonja was about to rip her hair out, god dammit, she knew she had fallen more and more for Emma, seeing the girl in the library the other day and feeling her breath catch was enough clue of that. But damn that girl was dense, it was like she wasn’t noticing the fact that Sonja was trying very hard to flirt with her without using sarcasm, well desperate times called for desperate measures did it not?

Seemed like she was going to need to tell someone. Seeing that she needed help made Sonja frown a little. Knowing that she would never live it down if she was to tell Anne she chose the safer option with telling Inca and Stina, it seemed to help however at Inca was able to calm some of her fears, and Stina offered to help her.

It went a few more days before Sonja was desperate enough to ask for more help by Stina, lucky for Sonja was Stina willing to help, the bad news was that she gave her helping hand when all their friends present, and that was including Emma, Sonja now had desperate wish to disappear from the face of the earth. Oh well, she could do that if her planned failed. Sonja looked at the mini envelope as well as card, looks like she was about to draw and write in mini his time.

After dreadfully writing even though she had class Sonja was now done, so she went on the hell-site to broadcast it, that was the good news, the bad news was that Sonja did this on a Friday, and Emma would not see it before Monday… Let the waiting game where you almost kill yourself begin.

They where just eating in their spot, now known as the «living room», Emma smiled at that. Today Stina chose to grade them with her presence and was quick to give Sonja something before sitting down to eat, how odd, but Emma was not about to ask.

A few hours later Emma was just scrolling through Tumblr when she noticed that Sonja had posted again. The teen had posted a lot about her crush lately, but didn’t want Emmas help, even if Emma asked her. But the new post however was interesting, she had apparently done something she might regret. And by that she meant putting a note in her crushes locker.

Emma kind of hoped it were her, it would be nice if it was, but she would see that in a few days then wouldn’t she?

It was Monday and Sonja was about to break down in nervous laughter. Og well, sitting with Emma, Sonja was desperately trying to find an excuse as of why she needed to go to her classroom right away instead of being with Emma in the library. Sonja knew it wasn’t a good one, but it served its purpose. It was now or never anyway.

Sonja was sitting in her classroom and damn she was on the verge to break down, and she was not even able to compose herself! But to be honest she was dreading it, Emma had not written back or sent a message and by this point was freaking out, had she done something wrong? It sure felt like it. Taking a decision the message Emma asking if she did something wrong…. Who were she kidding, no, she was spamming Emmas phone while apologizing because Sonja felt awful, had she ruined what they had? Sonja did not know.

But then it happened, Emma wandered one of her maaaany messages, and to Sonjas relic she wasn’t mad, well that was good, but Sonja could feel it on herself that Emma seemed a bit unsure or something, Well guess she had to charm the girl to her side then, it should be plausible, Sonja started plotting.

Emma watched as Sonja disappeared after coming in the door to school, she had to say that Sonja was good with excuses, like damn doing some history tasks? Emma could see right through that one, why wouldn’t she? She had known Sonja long enough to know she only did work right before it needed to be delivered, so her excuse was a blatant lie. Ha! It was laughable even!

Going down to the locker Emma had to say she hoped that she was the one to find the note in her locker. Oh she had read Sonjas posts on Tumblr, why wouldn’t she? And that was why at the moment she hoped that it was for her…. Though Emma had to be honest and say that if she did find it she would not know what to say, or do for that matter.

Her hart was beating hard as she opened the locker, and as she hoped there was a small envelope laying there innocently. Getting the thing she needed she took it and read it, she had to admit she was flattered, if she was blushing she did not know. But Emma decided it was best to give Sonja some space, never knew what could be going on.

Since Sonja was currently in her classroom, that dammed female, Emma was sitting with Inca, and while doing so she got this feeling that Inca knew. Honestly Emma wasn’t that supprised, looking at her phone she got to class. It was during lessons she could her messages getting spammed, and looking at it she saw it was Sonja, The other girl was feeling feeling guilty, that was clear as day. Now Emma could not have this now could she, so messaging her that she had not done anything wrong and making sure that Sonja could see that and that her other crushes did not matter she sat back in her chair, Emma was not sure what was going to happen next, but she still had a good feeling, even though this was somewhat of a new territory for her.

Emma let a small smile grace her lips, well how couldn’t she? Making sure the envelope side with the drawing display proudly she continued with her day.

It was later when she once again got spammed with messages from Sonja, apparently her parents chose to be asses, not that that surprised her, Sonjas parents soundly needed a reality check, well that was not her problem. Other than that they wrote to each other and Emma had to be honest, her head was a mess of feelings, Dammit why did Sonja make feel things…. It was not fair. But she was happy, she just hoped that they would be together,

Sonja had used all of yesterday trying to charm Emma, and she could feel her heart pound as they walked down from school together, Why one might wonder, well because Sonja really, really liked the other girl, and wanted to be together with her, so what had she done? She had written in her black deathly hallows book. It was Sonjas feelings for Emma written down of sorts, and she felt herself shaking thinking about it, she just hoped that for once that the faiths would be in her favor…

Emma had to be honest, she had been a little charmed by Sonja yesterday, oh well she had to give it to the young woman she tried. School went as normal enough, but Sonja continued to send sweet and caring messages trough the day.

When they finally met up to go down to the bus together Emma could feel herself blushing, but thankfully they were only speaking of Da fan fiction, it was first when they came down something interesting happened. Sonja had written something in the little black book of her, And Emma felt flattered, Sonja only let a few read what she wrote so she felt somewhat special. Then it happened, the thing that made her chest feel way to small to her heart. Sonja wanted them to be together, and Emma could only do one thing. That was agreeing. The rush of adrenalin was drugging, and the happiness she felt was immense, well guess her friends were right, she now had a girlfriend.

Thinking of friend she could only imagine hoe her and Sonjas friends would react, but Emma had a feeling it would go well.

Sonja spoke up when she saw that Emma was don reading, she was nervous, but damn she had to get her shit together. So she had to know, did Emma want to be together with her, the sarcastic person with dark humor, the person that was so different from her?

And as Sonja asked if Emma was sure she felt relief washing over her, she had a girlfriend! And Sonja knew this was important, it was a new chapter of her life after all

Thats it folks, this is the fan fiction of me and my gf got together. I hope you all liked it. I wrote this because its her birthday today, so go over to her big and wish her a happy birthday. And for my message for you my beloved <3

My beloved, the light to my dark, the stars to my sky. I love you. I love you today, tomorrow, in a week, in a year and all the years to come. Thank you for being mine, and I hope you know I love you so much. I hope you get a Wonderfull day. And I hope you know I had to read all those older messages, and I can’t believe it has been over 3 months now.

Happy birthday beloved, must all your wishes come true <3

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Mount Everest Ain't Got Shit On Us (Fezco x fem!reader, part 10.)

Description: You were always told that your life will be as you wish it to be if you’ll study enough. That it will pay off if you work hard. And some people were given you like a scary example of what will happen when you don’t obey. But sometimes it feels good to disobey.

A/N: x

Warnings: Fight Club! Wohoo, here we fucking gooo.

Word Count: 2.1 K

Read the rest here, babe:  PART 1  PART 2  PART 3  PART 4  PART 5  PART 6  PART 7  PART 8  PART 9

Masterlist and declaration: H E R E

Tagging: @charmed-asylum, @jeyramarie, @pantherxrogers

Sometimes all you need in your life is some silence and calm time to think everything through. It’s not like you try to reach some nirvana or shit, but you need to think. Sometimes a thing happens that totally fucks up your perception of reality and you just cut yourself off from the outside world.

You want to just ride to the school on a bike, listening to some music or the birds singing, to feel the wind in your hair and to escape the reality for a slight moment. And when it’s all said and done, you reach the solution you were searching for and your life just continues. Sometimes when your friends try to help you, they just make everything much, much worse than it was before. 

You couldn't just stand Rue's rambling about Fezco feeling terrible. She didn't shut up the whole time, so in the middle of the third paragraph and fourth sentence, you got up, pushed your tray to hers violently, rolling your eyes and taking the earbuds out of your bag, walking off the scene. You loved Rue and Jules like your sisters, but that shit was too much for you to handle at that moment. 

Naturally, you did not expect to find a friend in Kat Fernandez at that given moment. It did not matter she is a plus size girl - she had so much confidence that even the most popular girls were friends with her. 

She silently approached you when she took a notice that you're not talking with Rue for a week and when Ash told you that you’re not talking to Fezco either. You knew each other, but no as much to be called friends.

“Hey, bitch.” - She said loudly in front of your empty table at the cafeteria. You could hear her through the music playing in your earbuds - the entire cafeteria could hear her. 

“Hi, Kat?” - You asked her/greeted her. You took the earbuds out of your ears as she and her boyfriend, a slim boy who looked even more tired than Fezco, sat down next to you. - “Do you need my notes from biology or what?” 

“Oh, shut up. You're just looking down, bitch, I'm not going to let you sit alone. I’m not a bitch.” - Kat sighed dramatically and all of a sudden, Lexi sat beside you, then Cassie sat at your table as well and the last one to the freak show was Maddy, the mad queen herself.

Excuse you, since when were you friends with those popular girls? You didn't have a single fucking idea. But you were just scared at that moment to make a move against their invasion.

“We heard that shit went down between Fez and you, girl. I’m so sorry. You were as cute as me and Nate.” - Maddy took your hand to her palm, looking you in the eyes, swinging those fake lashes. One more swing and you were sure that they would fall fucking off. That day was too much for you. WHAT. THE. FUCK. - “How are you feeling, babe?” - She asked with too much affection in her voice. They were all fake as fuck. 

“I think I’m... Fine. How do you know that? And I didn’t break up with him, I just wanted some alone time.” - You carefully took the hand off Maddy’s palm, ready to run off with all of your food back to Rue and Jules. They were both watching you - Rue’s expression was similar to vomiting and Jules had a brain freeze.

“Oh, you know, the people tell and everybody just adds something to the story. I heard that you’re preggy.” - Kat answered while she was peeling her orange. 

“I heard that some of Fezco’s friends tried to cut your throat.” - Cassie added to the flame with a serious tone. 

“And I heard that he cheated on you with that ginger from senior year. Is it real?” - Maddy asked with her eyes popped the fuck out, you had a strong tendency to tell her that she should calm those fucking eyeballs down.

“None of these is fucking true. Not a shitty bit. Jesus.” - You sighed with a sour voice and for everything just getting better, Nate fucking Jacobs was heading to your table. You felt sick at that moment and your day was ruined. You could handle bullshit of those primadonnas, but you knew before he came to your table that Nate is too much of an asshole for you to handle. 

But you didn't know how much bullshit his manners will cause.

“And we meet again.” - Nate smiled at you while he leaned to kiss his girlfriend’s temple. Oh boy, you never got violent tendencies, but you would swear to fucking God that you are ready to punch him at any moment. 

“How pleasurable.” - You gritted, watching him down with a disgusted look.

“So you finally realized what’s good for you?” - Nate sighed and leaned to you. Oh, you were aware of what he is doing. That fucker was trying to make you feel small, to intimidate you because he was that big, strong boy and you were just a small girl. Too bad for him it didn't work. 

Also, was that fucker giving you proposals just in front of Maddy or not? You realized in the next minute - Maddy didn't know that you and Nate have already met. At Fezco’s shop. But Kat did. Aaand... She was talking to Ethan, so she did not hear anything that that piece of shit had said. 

How could two people be so lonely in a full cafeteria, sitting surrounded by many people? Was it even possible?

“I told you that Fezco is a zero who makes himself look better than he is. There are particularly... Better boys.” - He licked his lips slowly and you felt ready to vomit all over the table. And thank God for Rue at that moment.

"Hey Y/N." - Rue appeared behind Nate's back. - "Can I talk to ya? We... Ugh... Need to talk about dat... Thingy..." - She stuttered. You nodded with grace, grasping the food off the table, immediately running back to your beloved table. - "Okay, ya glad that I saved ya? And holy fuck man, what was he tryin' to do?"

"He's suggesting things. This was for the second time this happened. Fezco would have killed him on the spot." - You looked behind your back, still seeing Nate with his grinning face. At least he was looking into Maddy's face and his eyes were a small inch before being craved out of the eyeballs.

"Well fuck me, fuck ya and fuck Nate then. He heard it. Got him on da phone, so he heard all of da shit." - Rue gave you her hand over your shoulder. You opened your mouth with a scared face. Nathan was dead. - "Now I know why was so pissed."

"You were standing behind Nate the whole time? Jesus fucking Christ, Rue, use your brain sometimes." - You put your tray on the table and sat next to Jules. Jules smiled at you with love and smoothed your shoulder.

"Man, I can't choose when ma bros call me. And he was just checkin' dat ya safe." - Rue muttered when she made the pills into small pieces, mixing it into her yogurt again.

"I should really speak to him, shouldn't I?" - You asked silently, looking Rue to her eyes. She raised her eyebrows and watched you as if you were a dumb fuck.

You didn't even have to go for Fezco to his shop - he was just casually standing outside the school, watching the entrance, smoking a cigarette. He looked even more tired than he did ever before, he was out of his mind completely.

But his face softened when he saw you in your hoodie, just standing there and watching him. Your eyes started to water as you walked to him to hug him. You missed him so much - you missed his smile, his tired baby blue eyes, his scent, and his raspy voice. By the moment he hummed into your ear, you were already crying into the crook of his neck. How could you miss someone so fucking much?

"Are ya alright, baby girl?" - Fezco whispered after a few seconds. You nodded between the sobs. 

He was holding you like there was no tomorrow. He would never say that one person can make him feel as much as you did. Any drug has ever made him feel so alive as your presence did, the warmth in his heart basically every time you have touched him and the bliss when you kissed him. ANy drug was as addictive as you. 

You haven’t seen each other in two weeks. If you weren't in front of the other people, even he would most probably cry. And Fezco knew that he will cry, he had so many things to be sorry for. 

But then you felt him tense up. Nate has left the school, his hand hazily over Maddy’s shoulder. You could see Nathan’s face go a bit paler when he saw you with Fezco. 

“No, no, no, baby boy, no.” - You begged quietly, but it was for nothing. Fezco already made his decision. And if Nate wasn't able to accept it the nice way, he needed to understand in the worse way. That was just Nate's decision.

"We are havin' this conversation for the last fuckin' time, amigo. I tell ya. One more gross word on ma girl, one more look at her and you're fuckin' dead. I had enough of ya bullshit, dawg." - Fezco almost run into Nate and caught the hem of Nate's shirt, tearing him away from Maddy who screamed and jumped few feet to the side with her hands over her mouth and watched both of them with tears in her eyes.

"Do you even realize that all of those people can just tell that you were threating me? Or you're too dumb for this, you ugly fuck?" - And that was that. Nate fell on the ground when Fezco gave him a good hit to the jaw. Everyone was watching their fight. Nate was obviously winning over Fezco with his tall American football body.

But Fezco wasn't willing to give up that easily. He was fighting for your dignity and honor at the moment. Fezco couldn't just lose. In the end, they both stood three feet away from each other. Fez's white polo shirt was bloody as hell, his knuckles were violet and he couldn't open one of his eyes. And Nate didn't look any better. But you and Maddy were quick to stand between them.

"I told you that you shouldn't do that. He's going to the police and you'll end up in jail." - You whispered and took his face to your palm gently.

"What the fuck was that? Are you kidding me, Fezco? What the hell?!" - Maddy yelled at you and you wanted to tell her that you're sorry, but Fez was faster.

"Try to tell yo boy that he shouldn't try to get another girl's panties when he has a girl. Go on. This happened twice." - Fezco answered and spit our blood on the pavement. Maddy stood straight for a second before she turned to Nate, she started to scream in Spanish at him - she was talking about some sex tape and releasing it. You and Rue took Fezco to the car before the teachers could see anything before any trouble could start.

"How could ya be angry at that angel?" - Rue laughed our loud and shove a few strands of her hair behind her ear while she drove the car. Jules sat next to her and you were in the backseat with Fezco's head on your lap. He was watching you and his left eye was crying. You couldn't tell about the other one clearly. - "He just fought with Nate fucking Jacobs. For ya. You're hella lucky."

"And he almost got himself knocked out. But he's my brave warrior." - You ran yours over the short hair on his head. Yeah. You loved him. No matter if he was a dealer or not, you loved him. And he had no problem with fighting other guys just because of you.

So you didn't have any talk. You just... Accepted the fact of what source of his money was. Because that's what people who are completely blind with love do.

[arya-skywalker]

Behind the Mask

Deceit College AU Part 3

Dee glanced from his phone to the number on the door and back then his phone, refreshing the page with his schedule. Yes, this was the right room. Yes, this was the right day. Yes, class started in four minutes.

He sighed and entered the room, picking a seat close to the door, second row from the front. Hopefully someone short would sit in front of him. He took out his laptop and opened up a few tabs— one for social media, one for email, one for the school homepage, one for taking notes, arranging it so the notes would take up half the page. A few other students wandered in, but he ignored them for the time being.

Until someone just had to burst through inside with enough force to slam the door against the wall. “I brought Starbucks!” Remy announced, setting a couple trays of coffee on the table before digging out a crumpled bag of pastries. “Enjoy, babes! Happy first day of class. Maybe sure prof-dude knows it was me who brought it, no strings attached.” He flashed a grin and plopped down in the chair next to Dee. “Oh hai! Didn’t know you were in this class, Dee. But there’s a caramel cappuccino with your name on it— extra cream, hold the sugar, three squirts of caramel, two shots of vanilla, and java chips on top,” he said with a wink, slurping his own drink through the straw.

“If you didn’t know I was in the class, why bother with that specific drink?” Dee rolled his eyes, but got up to grab the coffee before anyone else could steal it. After peeking into the bag of sweets, he picked out a vanilla scone and returned to his seat. “Bribing your way to victory again? You know it never works.”

“Nu-uh! It worked that one time,” Remy countered. “In first year experience.”

“Oh please. That class is a joke! All you do is talk about feelings and watch tutorials on technology everyone already knows how to use.” Dee sipped at his drink and nibbled at the scone, careful not to make a mess.

Before Remy could argue further, the professor entered and started fiddling with the projector. “Good morning, class. While I wrestle this dinosaur into submission, please take out a device capable of accessing the internet and go to the link I emailed you all last night. If you did not receive said email, please speak now.”

“Professor Logan, Sir! I brought breakfast,” Remy boasted.

Logan blinked and looked at the table, seeming to notice the treats for the first time. “Oh. That’s very kind of you,” he said, “but I am not hungry at the moment. Everyone else, feel free to help yourself.”

Dee rolled his eyes. “Told you it wouldn’t work,” he muttered, checking his email and going to the link.

The professor was still talking. “Now, since the school’s default online portal is an inefficient ineffective GUI nightmare, we will be using Classroom. Your school email login should work just fine. Put in this code...” Logan squinted at the screen and glanced at the projection. “... as soon as it appears. Keep calm, carry on.”

“Oh god. He’s one of those profs that try to be cool and ‘hip’,” Dee grumbled, smirking once he saw Remy choke on his his drink in a fit of laughter.

Someone stumbled through the door, panting. “Sorry I’m late! I slept in and I didn’t realize that this class started so early and it took me forever to find the room because this campus is a maze— amazing really!��� but super confusing so I got lost and went in circles until I realized I was in the wrong building! Then I found this building and.....”

Dee stared at the chatterbox of a freshman. *Will he ever shut up? God he looks like a loser. Are those rainbow braces? Who still wears braces in college?*

Logan cleared his throat to stop the babbling nonsense still flowing from the fool. “You’re not late at all. Please take a seat,” he said.

“Oh.” The freshman deflated, then giggled nervously. “Right.” He glanced around, then hesitantly approached the seat in front of Dee. “Is this seat taken?”

Dee blinked and shook his head. *No, it’s not taken. No, don’t sit there—!* He opened his mouth to say so, but the freshman had already flopped into the chair and started digging around in his ridiculously-large backpack.

“Oh and I’m Patton! I’m new here. It’s a really nice campus,” the freshman chattered on, then turned and awkwardly reached over his shoulder as if to shake his hand.

“Dee. Just Dee.” He didn’t shake the offered hand, bracing himself for the inevitable—

“Nice to meet you!” Then Patton’s big blue eyes widened and his mouth gaped open. “Ohmygosh I love your makeup! It’s so cool! Do you like theater?”

Dee plastered a smile on his face, clenching his hand into a fist under his desk. *Makeup. Shit is it slipping? Or does he think the scars are fake? Fuck fuck fuck.....*

“Dee,” Remy whispered. “He says he likes it. Don’t—“

Too late, the freshman realized his mistake. “Oh. I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean anything bad! I really do like it. It’s really unique!”

“Shut. Up.” Dee shot to his feet and stumbled over his chair. “I-I’ll be back. Remy, take notes if I miss shit.” He fled to the restroom without looking back, not stopping until he was in front of a mirror in the boy’s room.

He clung to the sink with his gloved hands, closing his eyes as he caught his breath. The room was spinning. Obviously it was spinning— he hadn’t run that fast since freshman year.

Once his breathing was under control, he turned his attention to his reflection. To his hideously scarred face, barely hidden under layers of makeup. He took off his right glove and traced the faded line across his left cheek, the vague splotches of his birthmarks mixed with burn scars. “Fuck.” He closed his eyes again.

“Dee-Dee?” Remus was there.

*When did Remus get here?!*

“Not now, Remus!” Dee snapped, tightening his grip on the sink.

“You look like shit. Need me to beat someone up?” Remus’s signature footsteps came closer.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Just... help me fix my makeup if you have a minute.” Dee swept his hair out his eyes and turned to face him, hoping his eyes weren’t too red.

Remus’s mouth formed a silent “o” of understanding. He nodded and dropped his bag, rummaging through it for his makeup kit. “Want something fancier? Or just a new foundation?”

“Whatever you want. I don’t care.” Dee groaned and rubbed his face. “But nothing crazy! Just foundation. Perhaps a bit of contour. Darken up the eyeshadow if you want.”

Remus giggled. “Awww c’mon, Dee-Dee! Don’t you trust me?”

“I am not currently in a very trusting mood.” His voice was ice.

“Oh. Right. Never mind.” Remus eventually took out a large makeup kit. “Take a seat and I’ll see what I can do.”

Dee hesitated, searching for somewhere clean to sit. He shrugged and climbed up to perch on the windowsill.

Remus hummed to himself and began the process. “Stay still, Dee-Dee. Close your eyes and keep your mouth shut until I’m done.”

Dee didn’t argue. Remus was better at makeup than he was. *He better be sober.... This is not the time for games.*

Finally, the brushes stopped tickling his face. “Ta-da! All done,” Remus boasted. “Take a look! Tell me if ya want anything changed.”

Dee opened his eyes and hopped down, walking over to a mirror and staring at his reflection. The scars were covered as much as they could be, albeit with a slightly-paler foundation. A hint of silvery jade eyeshadow and black eyeliner made his blue and green eyes pop. A touch of blush on his cheeks so he wouldn’t look sickly. Rusty-red lipstick that glittered in the light.

“Thank you, Remus. It’s perfect,” he said, forcing a smile.

Remus clapped his hands and grinned ear-to-ear. “Yay! Happy to help,” he said, then put away his makeup kit. “Now.... you wanna talk about what happened?”

Dee took off his gloves and washed his hands, using the distraction to gather his thoughts. “Just a stupid freshman,” he said after drying his hands and putting his gloves back on. “I’m fine, really.”

“You gonna go back to class? Or wanna skip with me? You know I can always beat him to a pulp for ya.”

“My things are still in the classroom,” Dee muttered, rubbing the back of his ear. He sighed and checked his watch, doing a few quick calculations. “Half an hour left of class. I’ll skip twenty minutes. And no, don’t beat anyone up. Yet.”

Remus grinned. “Great! Let’s go!” He grabbed Dee’s hand and dragged him outside.

Dee grunted as he tried to find his feet, then chuckled and jogged after Remus. As long as they didn’t get drunk or high, whatever Remus had in mind would be fine.

[ibijau]

xisang, 46?

Choosing someone else over them

Sitting on the other side of a table covered with food, Nie Huaisang appears deep in thought, something not infrequent these days. Although Lan Xichen ought to be proud of him for trying to be less impulsive, he rather misses the silly, capricious young man his lover used to be. It always made Nie Mingjue so upset that his brother appeared incapable of any serious thought, but Lan Xichen had treasured it, this last innocent among his acquaintances. The last of them to still be free, at least to a degree, but now even Nie Huaisang has lost his candour and must bend his neck to the demands of politics.

In the years since Nie Mingjue’s death, Lan Xichen has come to the Unclean Realm as often as he’s been able to. Too much, according to some Lan elders. Not enough, his disquieted soul says every time he gets there again and finds Nie Huaisang a little thinner, a little paler. Along with his innocence, he has lost the last few traces of childhood’s roundness that had clung to his face. He is more handsome like this, but less like himself.

Tonight, as always when Lan Xichen is visit and there are no other guests to entertain, the two of them have retired in Nie Huaisang’s quarters to dine in private. The room, which used to be decorated with many trinkets, is still bare. Nie Mingjue’s uncontrollable rage destroyed so much, and his death never gave his brother a chance to restart his collection. It is another way in which things have changed, another thing Lan Xichen wants to correct and return to normal. He brings what small presents he can when he visits, just as he makes sure that Nie Huaisang, at least in his presence, eats to satiety. It is an innocent joy to be found in his lover’s presence… at least, when Nie Huaisang allows it.

Tonight, he refuses to eat, even when Lan Xichen, in a playful mood, offers to trade kisses for it. Food has held less appeal to Nie Huaisang in recent months, but he has always been weak to tender gestures. It is how Lan Xichen started taking notice of him, a sweet boy his brother’s age, but much more generous with his affection than Lan Wangji had ever been. It is deep in Nie Huaisang’s nature to touch and be touched, to crave any form of contact, or at least so Lan Xichen always assumed. If this too has changed…

Lan Xichen isn’t fond of change, but he is very fond of Nie Huaisang, and hoping all of this is just temporary, that things will return to normal once his lover settles into his new role.

Shaking his head slightly to chase away unpleasant thoughts, Lan Xichen puts back in his bowl the piece of mushroom he’d been trying to feed his lover, and sets down his chopsticks.

“Will you share what’s on your mind then, if it makes it impossible for you to eat?”

Nie Huaisang shrugs. He has his elbow on the table, his chin resting on his hand, a near pout on his lips. Lan Xichen ought to make a remark about manners, but this carelessness is enough like before to be not only tolerated but enjoyed.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about da-ge lately,” Nie Huaisang says, and then doesn’t elaborate.

It used to be near impossible to shut him up, and now he’s so careful with his words. Sometimes Lan Xichen can still get him to blabber a little, but more and more frequently even he gets hit in the face by a barrage of ‘I don’t know’ if a conversation goes on too long.

“What about da-ge?” Lan Xichen insists.

Rather than to answer, Nie Huaisang observes him a moment. There’s a sharpness in his eyes that matches the new sharpness of his features. Lan Xichen misses the lost softness, even when he knows it is unkind of him.

Nie Huaisang looks away, and fiddles with his fan. “It’s just that it’s so odd, the way he died. I know he was unwell, but I wonder… I’ve done research, you know?”

Lan Xichen chuckles. “Have you now?”

His lover’s eyes dart toward him, throwing daggers.

“And why not? Am I more stupid than others?” Nie Huaisang snaps. “My brother dies so suddenly, even when he did everything he was supposed to prevent it, can’t I wonder if someone didn’t use the state he was in to hide something more sinister? He had plenty of enemies after all!”

“I’m sure few men would dare have called themselves his enemy,” Lan Xichen counters, surprised by this sudden fit of anger.

“They sure didn’t have the guts to say it out loud,” Nie Huaisang mutters to himself, before raising his voice again. “You can’t act like he didn’t disrupt things for certain people,” Nie Huaisang accuses. “Not when some people profited so well from his death.”

A frown forms on Lan Xichen’s brow.

“What are you trying to say?”

Nie Huaisang hesitates, and opens his fan, almost like a shield. His expression, or as much of it as Lan Xichen can see right now, is cold and calculating, entirely unlike the young man Lan Xichen once fell in love with.

How much can grief change a person? Even Lan Wangji, devastated and wounded, nearly dying after his own loss, hasn’t turned into a stranger the way Nie Huaisang sometimes feels now.

Nie Huaisang who takes a deep breath, and uses what little resolve he possesses to speak again.

“I’m saying that someone saw da-ge was unwell, murdered him, and blamed it on his unstable Qi. Am I speaking plainly enough for you, Zewu-Jun?”

It is more than plain enough, even if even now, Nie Huaisang isn’t saying all of it. Lan Xichen’s hands clench into fists over his knees.

To make use of Nie Mingjue’s state, a murderer would have needed to know about it. The Nie are private people who don’t share more than they must. An attack would have needed to come either from within (unlikely, when Nie Mingjue was beloved by his sect) or from the very few outsiders in whom Nie Mingjue confided his trouble. Lan Xichen knows, of course, that he did cause any harm to his sworn brother, and Nie Huaisang must know it as well, because he’s too clever to confront him so directly without proof… and such proof cannot exist, since Lan Xichen did nothing.

The accusation, then, must be directed at Jin Guangyao.

It isn’t that Lan Xichen cannot see why some suspicion would arise. Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue were hardly on good terms toward the end, both of them always complaining about the other whenever Lan Xichen was alone with one of them. And with Jin Guangshan in the middle of a dispute with Nie Mingjue over the punishment given to Xue Yang, with Jin Guangyao often coming to the Unclean Realm to play Cleansing, there is both a motive and an occasion.

Perhaps if the accusation came from someone else, Lan Xichen would consider listening. Perhaps not. Jin Guangyao, so recently risen to lead Lanling Jin after his father died from his excesses, has attracted many enemies, and Lan Xichen has been forced again and again to side with him against those who would have used his origins to tarnish his reputation.

The question is irrelevant, because the accusation, coming from Nie Huaisang, cannot be anything but ridiculous. Lan Xichen loves the man dearly, or perhaps just the memory of what he so recently used to be, but he doesn’t allow that affection to make him blind. Nie Huaisang, is many things, and he can even be quite clever on occasions, but he’s still not particularly smart.

“I think if your brother had been murdered, someone would have noticed,” Lan Xichen says with cold politeness. “I saw his body, as did others. There were no marks of wounds, nor of any poisons.”

“Someone knowing about his state could have easily edged him on to make things worse,” Nie Huaisang points out, burning eyes peeking out from behind his fan.

“By that logic, you could be called a murderer,” Lan Xichen retorts calmly. “His biggest disputes were usually with you, weren’t they?”

Upon hearing this argument, Nie Huaisang freezes, eyes widening in horror just as his face turns deathly pale. His shock is such that he even drops his fan, revealing a mouth slack with stupefaction.

“Zewu-Jun, you…”

“I’m not blaming you for what happened,” Lan Xichen adds. “I’ve told that enough times, what happened would have happened even if the two of you had gotten along better. But just as you cannot be held responsible for your brother’s fate, neither can Jin Guangyao.”

“So you won’t listen to me at all?”

“Not unless you have some more serious proof than this to offer to me,” Lan Xichen says. Then, not wanting to appear too cold to the man he does still love, and who has had a rough year, he adds: “If you do have anything that can prove what you say, then I’ll listen. And if that proof is strong enough, of course I will side with you and help you get justice for your brother.”

An easy promise to make, when Lan Xichen knows that there was no foul play. Nie Mingjue himself had been preparing for his death since the Sunshot Campaign, resigned to an early end. This conspiracy Nie Huaisang is inventing is just a new way to try and deal with a loss that took only him by surprise.

Nie Huaisang’s fan rises again.

“No, I don’t suppose I have proof,” he says, careful and sharp. “I think I’m just tired. I think I’ll ask you to go back to your room, Zewu-Jun.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying, even if all we do is sleep,” Lan Xichen says. It isn’t a lie. He does enjoy holding Nie Huaisang in bed, feeling the warmth of another body in his arms. “If you’d like, I can even play you something so you’ll rest better.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Nie Huaisang snaps.

“You’re angry at me.”

“I’m not!” Nie Huaisang hisses, to which Lan Xichen only has to raise an eyebrow for his lover to roll his eyes. “Or maybe I am! I don’t know how I feel about anything, I don’t know, I just don’t know. Is that better? I don’t know how I feel, I don’t know what I know. I just know that I want you to leave me alone. Can’t I have this at least?”

Lan Xichen’s fists clench tighter, but he forces his smile to remain mellow.

“As you wish, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, Huaisang.”

Nie Huaisang only shrugs. He doesn’t rise from the table, doesn’t follow Lan Xichen to the door, doesn’t beg for a kiss the way he always used to do. Lan Xichen doesn’t remark on it and leaves the room.

As he walks, he tells himself that it isn’t a surprise if things took such a turn. Their affection went through some rough patches already when the war broke, when Lan Xichen became sect leader and found himself with much less free time, most of which he’d spent with his sworn brothers at first, until they all found a balance. This new change might just be the last drop for them. If it comes to that, Lan Xichen will mourn what they had once, while knowing also that meeting and parting is only another part of life.

He tells himself, also, that he will not share with Jin Guangyao those suspicions Nie Huaisang mentioned. His sworn brother would be too hurt that even one of his few friends would think that way of him.

[dynamicduoau]

Episode 1: The Piolet

Summary: After being sent to the middle of nowhere for their winter break, Virgil Sanders finds a mysterious journal in the woods.  This isn't the only problem as his brother, Patton, might be going a little boy crazy.

Words: 6955

Relationships: Platonic Moxiety, one-sided Logicality

Notes: Find original story here https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170951/chapters/47790076.  

Snow covered the ground as Virgil Sanders looked out the window.  Snowflakes fell from the sky and landed onto the ground in a thick sheet of snow.  It was cold in the old bus.

Honestly, the things should have been scrapped years ago.  His was doing nothing for his anxiety.  The roads were frozen here in Oregon, the bus could slip at any moment and kill them all.  Though he preferred this to flying.  They had been in the air just a couple of hours ago and Virgil had been freaking out.

A bubbly boy that look nearly identical to him kicked his legs back and forth in his seat.  Patton Sanders was Virgil's identical twin brother.  The boy pushed back a brown curl from his forehead as he turned to Virgil.

“What do you think Uncle Emile is like?” Patton asked.

“A serial killer,” Virgil stated, dead serious.

Patton frowned at him and gave him a stern look, “Virgil.”

“We could only be so lucky,” Virgil sighed.  “We met him when we were two, Pop Star.  From what I can remember, which isn’t much, he spent most of his time watching SpongeBob with us.”

The twins might be identical, but you could tell them apart quiet easily.

Virgil had straight hair that covered one eye.  The color was a mix of both brown and purple.  He was paler and looked even more pale with the black eyeshadow that was applied under his eyes.  Virgil tended to wear the same thing every day: a pair of ripped black jeans with dark purple tights underneath, a black T-shirt, his large purple and black flannel patched work jacket, and black and purple combat boots with purple socks peeking out.

Patton had curly brown hair with a single ringlet hanging perfectly on his forehead.  He had light peach colored skin.  A pair of black glasses were perched on his nose.  He wore a light blue shirt with a large white heart in the center.  Long white sleeves went down his arms, but he tended to change the color each day.  His cat hoodie was tied around his shoulders instead of on him.  He wore a pair of light beige skinny jeans with converse that were the same color as his shirt.  His white socks pecked out the tops of his shoes.

They both shared many similarities, though.  They had the same brown eyes.  Both had a splash of freckles covering their cheeks and nose.  Both had the same face shape.  Their hair was the same shade of brown.  They even had the same mole on their left cheek.

“This is our very first trip away from mom and dad,” Patton slapped his hands on both of his cheeks.  “They’re on the other side of the country.  All the way in Florida!”

“And only one call away.  We should just call them now and go home,” Virgil grabbed the phone from his jacket pocket.

It was snagged from his hand and held away from him, “Bro, this is the purrfect opportunity to show them we are cat-able of taking care of ourselves.  Besides, do you really want to get on a plane again?”

Virgil sighed, and placed his hands on his lap.  He did have a point though.  Planes were the worst.

They passed a sign that said now entering Gravity Falls.

“I’m so excited!” the older twin squealed.

Virgil just zipped up his hoodie and grabbed his backpack.  He only had that and a suitcase.  Patton was the one who was carrying about ten different things with him.

The bus soon stopped, and the driver screeched at them, “Gravity Falls!”

The emo twin ran off, he hated that driver.  Patton on the other hand smiled and told the driver goodbye before stepping of the bus.  It did a U-turn and left the twins in the cold snow.

The town had a strange feeling here.  Something that was foreign but comforting.  Virgil shivered in his spot from the cold weather.  He was spending his winter break in the middle of nowhere.

“Where is he?” Virgil looked around for their uncle.

Emile Sanders ran a museum in the middle of the forest that surrounded Gravity Falls.

“Maybe he got held up in traffic,” Patton suggested.

That was unlikely.  There were no cars in sight, and the heavy snow falling down made sure that no one would be driving today.

A car pulled up to them.  He could hardly see the red paint with all the stickers that covered it.

The window was pulled slightly while someone began to sing Da Dadadada Dum song from SpongeBob.  Once they finished they were out of breath, but they could finally see the person.

He had blond curly hair.  His hazel eyes were framed with a pair of brown glasses.  He was wearing a white dress shirt with a pink tie.  On top of that was a brown cardigan, and on top of that was a white coat.

"You're Patton and Virgil, right?” he asked.

Virgil had moved behind his brother, peeking from behind the luggage.  Virgil wasn’t a people person.  It was Patton’s job to do the socializing.

“That’s us!  I love your car!” Patton smiled as he looked at the colorful stickers.

“Thank you,” Emile said as he got out of the car to help the twins place their things in the back.

Now that he was out Virgil could see him better.  He was about 5'10''.  The man wore a pair of regular jeans and brown loafers.

"Hi, well I'm you're Uncle Emile, but you can just call me Emile," he said.

Virgil waved, but kept himself behind his brother.

“My Dark Strange Son is shy,” Patton stated.  “But it’s okay, because I talk enough for the both of us.”

Their uncle smiled at him, “Are you two a pair?  Aren’t you cold?”

“Nope,” Patton replied.  “It’s nice here.  There’s not a snowball chance of it snowing in Florida.”

Emile got into his seat and turned the key.

“I work at the Mystery Museum which is also my home," Emile told them.  "You two will be living there too while you're in Gravity Falls."

“Mystery?” Virgil asked, perking up.

The man nodded, “It belonged to friend of mine.  I’m just running it until they come back.”

Virgil always loved mysteries.  He’d stays up all night to watch conspiracies online.  He' loved it.

Soon they were at large building.  The front read Mystery Museum, though the second M looked like it was about to fall off.  Virgil was quick to grab his stuff from the trunk and make his way inside the museum.  Patton was a few feet behind him.

“Thomas!” Emile called out through the building.  “My nephews are here!”

Soon enough, a teen appeared from the back room.  He had a slightly lighter shade of hair then theirs but had the same brown eyes.  He wore a shirt that looked a lot like Steven Universe’s shirt along with a black and white jacket.  He wore a pair of black skinny jeans with a pair of fuzzy looking snow boots.

“Thomas is my cousin,” Emile replied.

“Hi,” Thomas waved.  “Patton and Virgil?”

Virgil was back to being behind his brother.  He didn’t like the multiple eyes on him.  He really just wanted to get to his room.

“I’m Patton,” Patton stated.  “And he’s Virgil.”

Virgil’s eyes scanned the room around him.  There were statues of creatures like werewolves, vampires, zombies, etc.  He wondered if any of them were real or not.  He wanted to ask questions, to see what his uncle knew, but that feeling inside of him wouldn’t let him talk.

Luckily, his brother asked the question that Virgil really wanted to ask.

“So, is this all real?” Patton asked as he looked at the statues.

Emile shook his head, “No.”

Virgil deflated a bit.  It would be awesome if at least one thing was real.

Thomas must have noticed because he was quick to say, “There are a lot of strange rumors around here that seem pretty paranormal to me.”

“Those are just rumors,” Emile sighed.  “As fake as Robo-Krabs.”

Virgil looked back down at his feet.

Patton gave his hand a small squeeze before turning back to the older two.

“Hey,” Patton started.  “Why did the old man fall in the well?”

Thomas shrugged.

“He couldn’t see that well,” Patton finished, grinning like a maniac.

He laughed at that, and so did Emile.  Virgil even gave an awkward chuckle.  He knew just how to cheer him up.

Patton started up a conversation with Thomas.  Talking was always easy for Patton.  All the friends that Virgil had back home were friends with Patton.  

“So if your Emile’s cousin,” Patton placed a hand on his chin.  “And we're Emile’s nephews.  What does that make us?”

Thomas thought for a second, “I think you’re my first cousin once removed.”

Patton grabbed the hood of his hoodie placed it over his head, “PAWsome!”

Thomas looked at him grinning, “Cat believe you just said that!”

It was then that the great cat pun epidemic of 2019 began.

Virgil started to feel a little bit more uncomfortable.  While his brother continued to make puns, he felt himself being excluded from the conversation.  Virgil wished that he could talk, but something with in him stopped him from saying anything.  What if he said the wrong thing?

After ten minutes of cat puns being thrown around, Emile took them up to their knew room.  The only one that was free was the attic, so they were both sharing a room.  It didn't really mattered since they've always shared a room.

There were two beds already up here and a table in between them.  Behind the table was a bay window with a triangle pattern.  A closet was on one side, and a dresser was on the other.

Virgil took the left and Patton took the right of the attic.  He got the dresser and Patton got the closet.

The emo began place large band shirts, purple tights, purple socks, and ripped jeans in the dresser.  He set a stack of books in one corner and his artist set in the other.  Then he began to place band posters up on the wall.

“I forgot my tape at home,” Patton said.  “Can I borrow yours when you finish?  I won’t tell anyone, my lips are sealed.”

“Yeah,” Virgil snorted as he put up another Evanesce poster.

“Woah!”

There was the sound of slipping, but a crash never came.  Virgil had turned, hands coming out, stopping his brother from falling even though they were five feet apart.  Hair had moved away from his covered eye revealing a purple glowing eye.  His brother was about three inches from falling face first onto the floor.

“Thanks Virgil,” Patton said sheepishly.  “I- “

His face connected with the floor before he could do anything.

“Sorry,” Virgil got off his new bed and went to his brother.  “I thought I could hold it for longer.”

Patton got on his elbows and blinked a few times, “It’s fine.  Would have hurt a lot more if you didn't stop me.”

Virgil didn’t know how he got them.  They’ve always been there.  He’s always possessed these powers.  Telepathy, telekinesis, and time stopping.  Though he barely used them because he didn’t know how to use them.  Every time he used them it was a spur of the moment.  They sort of just happened.

Telepathy was the only power he could use constantly.  That was the problem though, because he couldn’t stop using it.  That’s why he used his bangs to cover his eye.

His purple eye possessed the powers.  His brown eye was normal.

Virgil slipped his hands under his brother pulling him up from the ground.

“I need to try and keep that on the down low,” Virgil mumbled.  “They’ll just tell mom and dad, and that will just make everything worse.”

“Or they will help you.  The museum is filled with supernatural things,” Patton countered.

“It’s all fake,” Virgil replied.

He wasn’t going to risk it.  He was never going to risk it.  The only one that knew about his powers was Patton.

They never really were able to hide anything from each other.

_________

It was the next day.  Virgil was sitting on a counter at the gift shop, reading a hard-cover book.  Patton was staring from behind the counter at a boy that was in there with them.

He looked to be about the twin's age, maybe a little older.  He seemed to be prepared for the winter weather outside with his brown trench coat.  It was opened revealing a blue sweater vest and black polo.  He wore jeans that were pretty faded and a pair of snow boots.  His black hair was slicked back with hair gel.  The boy's blue eyes were framed in a pair of black glasses.

“Thomas,” Patton whispered.  “Who is that?”

The teen looked up from the register, “Oh, that's Logan Crofters.  He lives in the woods with his parents.  He comes in every day for his daily human interaction.”

Virgil didn’t even look up from his book, “Pop Star, you’re in boarder-line stalker mode.”

The boy walked up to them, “Salutations, Thomas,” his head cocked to the side at Virgil.  “I have not seen you before.  I am Logan Crofters.”

When Patton didn’t make a response, Virgil mumbled out, “Virgil.  My brother and me are new here.”

The boy squinted his eyes like that would help him hear Virgil better.

Thomas saved him, “They’re Emile’s nephews.  And technically, mine too, I research it last night.  They're spending their winter break here.”

Logan nodded, “Where is the other one?”

“Being gay behind the counter,” Virgil whispered, so that only Patton could heat him.

There was a gasp and Patton shot up hitting his brother in the back of the head.  He was quick to turn around to the boy.

“Hi, I’m Patton,” the bubbly twin smiled as the emo one rubbed the back of his head.

He looked at Patton with a cocked head.  He then looked away immediately when he saw the book in Virgil’s hands.  Interest shown in Logan's eyes.  In the corner of his eye, Virgil saw his brother deflate.

“What novel are you reading?” he asked.

“A Tale of Two Cities,” he mumbled, hoping to someone that the boy will focus on anything else other than him.

Logan nodded, “A great read.  I read it last summer.”

Patton seemed to like Logan.  Probably, forming a small crush on the boy.  Virgil tried to find a way out of the conversation.

His prayers were answered when Emile walked through the gift shop door, “I need someone to hang up these signs in the forest.”

“I’ll do it!” Virgil replied, jumping up and grabbing the stuff from his uncle.  His book, now forgotten, sat on the counter.

He pulled his gloves out of his pocket pulling them on.  He zipped his jacket up, tightening it around him and pulled his hood up.  After that, he went out into the cold.

It was no longer snowing outside, but there was a pretty deep layer of snow on the ground.  It didn’t go above his boots.  This is why he wore tights and socks.  Though back in Florida he was sweat all day long for his fashion choices.  He trudged through and made it to the first tree, nailing the sign to it.  Each footstep crunched into the snow.  When he had gotten to the next tree, he nailed in another sign.

He had gotten about halfway down with the signs, when he muttered, “Why is it so cold?”

It was never this cold in Florida.

He sighed as he began to tap in another nail, but a hollow metal noise echoed through the woods.  Virgil looked at the tree and tapped it again with the hammer.  It gave another hollow echo.  Virgil dropped the signs and tighten his grip on the hammer in his hands.  If something popped out, he’d just throw it whatever was attacking him.  The fake tree was cold as he dragged a gloved hand along the surface.  Dust rubbed onto his glove.  He found an unnatural line and pulled at it.

It squeaked as it fought to stay closed, but Virgil managed to open the door.  Cobwebs stretched and spiders crawled out.  A good thing Patton wasn’t here right now.  Inside was some sort of machine.  He tightened his grip on the hammer as he flipped the two little switches.  The first on did nothing, but when he hit the second on, he heard another noise from behind him.  He tightened his grip on the hammer and turned.

There was a hole.

He walked over; it was now filled with snow.  He pushed his hand into the snow, searching and hoping there wasn’t a murder ready to pull him in.  His hand brushed against something and it moved.  Virgil was quick to dig it out.

A book was in his hand.  Virgil brushed away the snow revealing to reveal the cover.  It was a maroon color with a golden figure on the front.  If he had to guess, Virgil would say that it was a coffee mug.  In the center that was a 3.  He opened it up to the first page.  It had a note stuck to it and it read Property of, but the name had been ripped off.  Virgil felt a little frustrated at that.  Who would try to hide their book?  Could it hold secret that were too great to know?  Was it written by an alien?  Could it be a bomb?

He moved an eyeglass before reading, “It’s hard to believe it’s been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls.”

Virgil smiled at this.  As he flipped through the pages, he felt his heartbeat pick up.  Pictures of gnomes, gargoyles, creatures of the night, sightings, and evidence was drawn and written into the pages.  Each was excellently recorded.  Beautiful drawings were on each page.  All of them done in ink.

He flipped to another page before being to read again, “Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed.  I’m being watched!”

Virgil found himself looking around the forest.  His anxiety might be getting the best of him right now.

“I must hide this book before he finds it,” Virgil felt himself begin to sweat even though it was extremely cold.  “Remember: In Gravity Falls, there is no one you can trust.”

To his right a twig snapped.  He shut the book and held it to his chest, beginning to back up.  A small growl came from within the woods and he took off back to the museum.

The book was pulled to his chest.  He tightened his grip on it as he ran through the woods.  Once he was in the yard he stopped and began to puff.  White breath filled the air.  He turned around, looking at the woods.  It looked like whatever it was didn’t follow him.

“Hello!” a voice yelled behind him.

Virgil jumped turning, just seeing Patton.

“Oh hi,” he breathed out.

Patton squinted his eyes, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied.

Suddenly his twin’s eyes were on the book, “What’s that?”

“Um…” Virgil looked around.  “Let’s take this inside.”

Virgil made sure that no one was in the living room except Patton and him.  He sat down on the coffee table skimming through the book.

“It says that all of these creatures live here in Gravity Falls,” Virgil said, excitement filled his voice as he showed Patton the journal’s pages.  “Whatever Emile said about the rumors being fake, he was wrong.”

Virgil has always loved the unknown since a young age.  He found that he could relate to it.  Having these unnatural abilities that he’s had to keep hidden for his whole life.  Virgil felt that he wasn’t that weird.

“It looks like whoever it was just stopped,” Virgil looked through.  “Like something happened to him.”

Patton grinned, “That’s awesome!  I mean the supernatural thing, not the author going missing.”

He heard the doorbell ring and he tilted his head to the side, “Who’s that?”

Patton smiled, “That’s my date.”

Virgil blinked, “You asked out that Logan dude.”

“No,” Patton frowned for a second, before smiling again, “This other guy came in later after Logan left.  We talked and he asked me out.”

With that Patton left to get the door, leaving Virgil to read the book.

“What’s that?” Emile appeared in the door, drinking a soda.

He didn’t want to show him yet.  What if he took it?

Quickly, he placed the book behind a pillow and grabbed a stack of papers that were stapled together.

“Um…the entire script to Steven Universe,” Virgil mumbled, trying to keep his face from flushing too much.

“Oh, that’s where I put it,” his uncle smiled to himself as he took a sip of his soda.

“Family, this is Norman!” Patton appeared with a teenager.

Virgil didn’t like him one bit from the sight of him.  First, he looked like a plainer version of Virgil, with the brown hair over eye, pale skin, and black hoodie.  He had a twig stuck in his hood and there were many dirty stains covering him.  Though what really set Virgil off was the mysterious red stain on his cheek.

"Sup," the teen waved at them.

Virgil squinted, his anxiety melted into suspicion, “Hi.”

Emile gave a smile, “Hey.”

“Is that blood, Norman?” Virgil pointed to his cheek.

“It’s…JAM!” his voice was gravelly and forced.

Virgil didn’t trust this guy for a second.  Patton could be too trusting sometimes.  It was Virgil’s job to make sure that he didn’t end up with someone that could hurt him.  He wanted to get a reading on the guy, but he’d have to uncover his hair for that.  Patton would tell and get upset.  He’d have to wait.

“I love jam!” he grabbed the man’s arm, squeezing it.  “Got some muscle there…that’s nice.”

Emile smiled at them, “They’re such a cute fusion.”

Virgil glared at the teen as he left.  There was something off about him, something that Virgil didn’t like at all.  He needed to find out.

So, he went to the attic and read through the pages.

He stared at one page.

“None for their pale skin and bad attitude, these creatures are often mistaken for teenager!” his eyes widened.  “Beware Gravity Falls' nefarious…zombie!”

He turned to see his brother and Norman.  He grabbed one of the headbands on the table and pushed back his bangs.  He opened the window to get a clearer reading.

He focused on the man.

Mine all mine.

Pretty.  Pretty.

Want to hold.

Never let go.

AAAHHH!

He fell to the ground with a large thump.

That voice in your head is always at the same volume.  It was that all those voices were going off at once that scarred him.  Why were there so many?  Did zombie’s have multiple voices in their head?

He ripped the band off his hair and got back up.

“What happened?” Thomas asked as he ran in.  “I heard something fall.”

“It was my shirt,” Virgil replied in a whisper, he doubted he even knew what he was talking about

Thomas only smiled at that, “Sound heavier than a shirt.”

“I was in it,” he replied, a slight grin formed on his face.

Should he ask Thomas for help?  He seemed like a cool guy and he seemed to believe in the paranormal.  It probably wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“Can I get your opinion on something?” he mumbled.

Thomas nodded, moving to the bay window and sat next to him.

“Would it be crazy if I thought Patton's new boyfriend was a zombie?” he mumbled.

Now it was out in the open.  Thomas probably thought he was crazy now.

Thomas shook his head, “Honestly, that would not be the craziest thing I’ve seen in this town.  Like I’m pretty sure that the mailman is a werewolf.  But you need evidence, or else everyone will just think you’re crazy.  And if you really think that guy your brother is dating is a zombie, do what you can to protect him.”

“Thanks Thomas,” Virgil nodded.

The older boy ruffed his hair before leaving the attic.

Virgil looked around before grabbing his phone and the journal.  He placed the book in an inner pocket of his hoodie and his phone in his front pocket.  He looked around for anything that he could use as a weapon, only to come out short-handed.  In the end, Virgil hoped that he could use his powers if needed.

He spent the day following his brother and his new boyfriend.  The man showed many signs of being the undead.  For example, instead of using a doorknob he punched the window out and opened the door from the other side.  He also, got hit by a swing showing no sign of physical pain and had a very late delayed response to the pain.  And he fell into a grave and crawled out of the dirty.

That was all it took to set Virgil over the edge.

So, Virgil sat waiting for Patton in their room.

When the boy finally returned Virgil was hugging the journal to his chest, “Patton."

His brother removed his heart shirt and white undershirt grabbing a dark blue undershirt and putting the heart shirt back on.  He turned towards Virgil and the younger twin screamed when he saw the giant red welt on his cheek.

“Did you see the smooch mark Norman gave me?” he grabbed his cat hoodie and tied it around his shoulders.  “Nay, it was just an accident with the leaf blower.”

“I need to talk about Norman,” Virgil looked up.

“Isn’t he the best?” Patton began brushing his hair.

“I don’t think he’s what he thinks he is,” Virgil replied.  “I saw that he was acting weird and videoed him doing some creepy stuff.”

Patton turned, “You were stalking him?”

“No, I think he’s a zombie," Virgil showed his brother the page.  “The groaning, the pale skin, he never blinks!”

“Son, you match all of those things too, and maybe he's blinking when you're blinking,” Patton replied.  “Now I have a date.”

Virgil shook his head, “Patton, I read his thoughts.  They’re all jumbled and multiple thoughts that no human can have.  I don’t trust him.”

Patton frowned, “I thought you were keeping you’re powers on the down low.  Can you trust me at least?”

“You know I trust you,” Virgil replied.  “I’m trying to protect you.  Norman is bad news.”

“I don’t need your protection, Virgil!  Stop getting in the middle of everything!  Now I’m going on my date with Norman and that the end of the story!” with that Patton left.

Patton never yelled at him.  What did Virgil do wrong?  He must have done something to make his only brother yell at him.  Tears formed in his eyes.

Virgil placed a hand on his face and felt tears pouring down his face, ruining the eyeshadow he was wearing.  With that he walked over to the bed and curled up.  The journal was pushed into his chest.

He curled up in on himself when he felt a breeze fill the room.

“I’m just being stupid,” he mumbled.

He looked as his phone at the videos.

“I have no real proof.”

Suddenly, he blinked rewinding the video.  It was Norman and Patton looking off at a pretty view. His hand was wrapped around Patton’s shoulders.  Suddenly, Norman’s hand fell off and he tried to cover it up.  He looked around before placing his hand back where it belonged.

“Patton!” Virgil screamed, throwing his phone onto the bed and running.

His brother was already gone.  He went running outside.  He didn’t know where Emile was.  More tears fell down his face.  He placed the journal in his jacket pocket.

He used the sleeves to wipe away his tears, though that probably made his eye shadow worse.

Find Patton.

His brother was in danger and he couldn’t just stand he and cry.

He found Thomas at the golf cart.  The teen was stepping out, holding the keys in his hand.

“Thomas, I need the golf cart keys to save my brother from a zombie,” Virgil stated.

The man smiled before throwing him the keys, “Don’t hit any pedestrians.  Wait!”

Before he could leave the man grabbed a shovel and gave it to him, “This is for the zombie.”

“Thanks,” Virgil reverse and went into the woods in search of his brother.

_________

Patton smiled as he and Norman walked through the woods.  He was his first boyfriend.  Norman was kind and sweet.  He didn’t even care that Patton was only twelve years old.

“Patton,” the man sighed.  “I need to tell you something.”

Patton placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, “You can tell me anything.”

He tried to forget about earlier.  His little twin was trying to protect him.  He didn’t need protecting though.  But Virgil’s always been there for him.  Virgil was scared of people, but if he saw his brother getting hurt, he’d get up and stand up for him.

His mind went to earlier, though. The fact that Logan didn’t show any interest in him and rather talked to his brother.  It was stupid because he didn’t even know the guy.  He got a date with another cute guy that walked into the museum.  Then when Virgil had mentioned his suspicions, Patton lost it.  In his mind, he saw his brother keeping him away from two guys that he liked.  Then he went and took his anger out on his little brother.  He needed to apologies.  Patton made a vow to himself that he would next time he saw Virgil he's apologize.

“Just don’t freak out,” slowly Norman unzipped his jacket.

There were five tiny men.  The one on top looked to be the youngest as he pushed his hair back behind him.  Patton stared at the little men.

“Is this weird?” the top one asked.  “Okay, I’m Jeff, this is Carson, Steve, Jason, and … sorry I forgot your name.”

“Shebulock!” the last one yelled.

“Shebulock,” he smiled.  “Anyway, we’ve been looking for a queen for a while…most of the girls here are…well, self-absorbed.  Then you come in, you’re sweet, kind, and big enough to scare off predators.  So?”

The gnomes knelt down on one knee and pulled out a ring, “Patton, will you join us in holy matrignomey…matrimony…can’t talk today.”

Patton shook his head, “I’m sorry, Jeff, but I can’t.  I’m a human and you are gnomes and it’ll be like what.”

Jeff nodded, “We understand.  We’ll never going to forget you.  Because we’re going to kidnap you.”

“What!” suddenly Jeff launched himself at Patton’s face.

They surrounded him trying to get their hands on the boy.  Patton continued to fight them off.  Kicking at the swarm.

He screamed.

Why didn’t he listen to Virgil?

Virgil…his little brother was probably crying in his room.  He needed to get to him.  Find him and make sure he was okay.  Virgil would take something think that to heart.

He was so lost in his thoughts, that he needed notice what the gnomes were planning.

Suddenly, the gnomes managed to knock him down and they began to tie him to the ground.

“What the fuck is going on here?!”

A shovel was pointed at Jeff as a very pissed off Virgil appeared behind him.  His one visible eye glared at them.

“Hey, your brother isn’t in any danger,” Jeff smiled.  “He’s just going to marry all 1000 of us and live with us for all eternity.”

“Nope, not going to happen,” Virgil glared.

Patton knew that look.  It was look that Virgil got whenever kids bullied Patton for not being smart.  It never ended well for the receiving end.

“You think you can stop us boy,” Jeff glared.  “The gnomes are a powerful- “

Virgil wacked the gnome away before cutting his brother free with the shovel.

Patton pushed his way away from them and ran to his brother.  He grabbed his extended hand and went to the golf cart.  After the two were strapped in Virgil booked it.

“Are they following us?” Virgil asked.

“With their little legs?” Patton raised an eyebrow.

Suddenly, stomping was heard so Patton turned to see them all joined together into what looked like a giant gnome.  Jeff was at the top of it, controlling the whole creature.

“Um…what do we do if they become Voltron?” Patton asked.

“What?” Virgil turned behind him.  “FUCK!  Patton grab the Journal and see if there is any way to stop them!”

He grabbed the journal from his brothers jacket and flipped through it until he got to the page, “Weakness: Unknown.  Come on!”

Knowing the book wouldn't be any help he put it back in his brother's pocket.

“Come back with our Queen!” Jeff yelled.

Suddenly, he launched a group of gnomes at them.  They grabbed at the golf cart, not letting go.

Patton elbowed one off the cart while Virgil grabbed another and slammed them against the stirring wheel.

Another one grabbed onto Virgil’s hair ripping at it to get him to stop.

“OW!” his purple eye was revealed as he tried to shake it off.

“I got it!” Patton grabbed the gnome and started ripping him off Virgil, though it was putting up a fight.

“OWWW!” he screamed.

The little thing wasn’t letting go.

Virgil’s eye glowed and the gnomes froze in place

Patton was quick to rip off the frozen gnome of off Virgil’s hair and throwing it off the golf cart.

“You froze it,” Patton said.

“Shit,” Virgil mumbled.

“How long do we have?” Patton asked.

A roar was heard behind them.

Patton turned in his seat eyes widened as he saw the gnomes behind him threw a tree at them.  Luckily, it went over them.  Unluckily, it landed in the middle of the road.

The twins screamed.  Virgil slammed on the breaks, but Patton knew that they weren’t going to stop in time.  By some chance, they manage to go under the tree instead of crashing into it.

They spun out of control and the cart landed on it's side.  The two pulled themselves from the ground.  The snow seeped into their clothing.  That was going to leave a bruise or two.  They had landed back at the Mystery Museum.  Neither could feel relieved as the monster walked up to them.

As the two back up, Virgil grabbed the shovel.  Soon they were pressed up against the side of the building.

“Just stay away from us!” Virgil yelled, throwing the shovel at them.  They only punched it into the ground.

Patton looked around.  There had to be something he could do.

His eyes landed on Virgil.

Virgil was too pale.  His hair had been forced away from his face, revealing his purple eye.  His eyes were right on the monster in front of them.  It took Patton a second to realize why.  All of the gnomes’ thoughts were going through his head right now.  Too many thoughts to comprehend.  His forehead was covered in little scratches, some had blood while others were just little red marks.

But what really got Patton, was his eyeshadow.  It streaked his face like he had been crying.  He had been crying.  Most definitely at the argument they had earlier.

How could he do that to his brother over a couple of guys?

Patton forced himself in front of his brother.  Pushing them both into the wall.  Virgil’s arms had circled around his arm.

He needed to act.

“I’ll marry you, Jeff,” Patton stated.  “Just leave my brother alone.”

“Patton, no,” Virgil was hugging his arm tighter.  “Please don’t.”

The older twin faced him, “Please, just trust me, Virgil.”

I know what I’m doing.

Virgil nodded slowly and let go of his brother’s arm.  Patton was quick to place his hair back over the purple eye.

Patton walked up to the monster as Jeff made his way down.  Once he had gotten there, Patton knelt down so that he was closer to the gnome’s height, but he still towered over the little man.  He held out a ring before slipping the ring onto Patton’s presented finger.  While Patton was looking at the ring, Jeff turned around.

“Let’s get you back to the woods, honey,” he said.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Patton stated, as his hand gripped onto the leaf blower behind him.  “You get to kiss me now.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” the gnome said.

As Patton leaned down, he pulled the tool closer to him.

Once Jeff was close enough, Patton pulled the leaf blower in front of him.

“This is for lying to me,” he yelled as he sucked the tiny man up. “This is for breaking my heart,” he tightened the nob as hard as he could.  “And this is for hurting my brother.”

He aimed the leaf blower at the monster.  It gasped and began to back up a bit, but without a person controlling it, it couldn’t do anything.

“What to do the honors?” Patton asked turning to his brother.

“On three,” Virgil smiled.

"One, two, three!”

Virgil hit the release and the gnome went flying into the monster.  Just like that all the gnomes began to fall to the ground like it was raining gnomes.

“I’ll get you for this!” Jeff yelled as he was launched into the woods.

“Orders I need orders.”

“My arms hurt.”

Patton began using the leaf blower to scare them away.

“Does anyone else want some of this?” the two yelled out at the now retreating army.

Once they all disappeared, Patton turned towards his brother.  Before either could say anything, Patton pulled Virgil into a tight hug.  Slowly, Virgil awkwardly placed his arms around him too.

“I’m sorry!” Patton cried into his shoulder.  “I should have believed you.  I can’t believe Norman turned into a bunch of gnomes.”

“Wait that was Norman?” Virgil asked.  “I guess I was wrong about the zombie thing.”

Patton nodded, “I didn’t mean what I said.  You were just trying to look out for me.  And I got anger over the fact that Logan showed more interest in you, then when you started the whole zombie thing, I lost it.”

Virgil tightened his hold, “Hey, you saved us back there.  And I’m sorry too.  I was just being stupid and should have talked to you instead.  And if Logan can’t see the…pawsome person that you are he’s not worth it.”

“YOU MADE A CAT PUN!” his brother squealed.

They pulled away smiling at each other.  Patton knew they both looked like a mess.  He could feel the dampness in his clothing and there were probably twigs stuck in his hair.  He saw them in Virgil’s hair anyway.

They walked inside, seeing Emile counting today’s earnings.  He looked at them as Virgil used his foot to close the door behind them.  Patton felt Virgil’s hand tighten on his arm.

“Did you two get hit by a bus?” he asked as he put the money in the register.

Patton began leading Virgil back to there room where they could change out of their wet clothing.  Virgil brought a sleeve to his face and began to wipe at his messed-up eyeshadow.

“Wait!” Emile looked at his register for a second before looking back at the two.  “I um…overstocked.  Each of you take something on the house.”

“Really?” Virgil asked.

The man nodded, so the kids looked around.

Virgil looked at a purple shirt with a storm cloud in the middle.  He took a large since he liked his clothing being on the big size.

Patton continued to rummage through boxes until he found the greatest thing ever.

“And I will have,” Patton twirled around smiling.  “A grappling hook!”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a toy or something?” Emile tilted his head.

“GRAPPLING HOOK!” he used it raising himself off the ground on one of the ceiling beams.

______________

In their room, Virgil and Patton had gotten ready for bed.  Virgil had pulled on a large black Evanesces shirt and a pair of purple boxers for his pajamas.  He was currently curled up in his blankets writing in the journal.

Patton was next to him jumping in his bed, wearing a cat onesie.  In his hand was his new grappling hook.

“This journal told me there was no one in Gravity Falls that you could trust.  But when you battle a hundred gnomes side-by-side with someone, you realize that they probably always have you’re back.”

Next to him Patton used his hook to grab a stuffed lion.  The boy grinned to at his brother when he succeeds.

“Hey, Pop Star,” Virgil placed the book under his pillow.  “Can you get the light?”

Patton took aim with his grappling hook, grinning, “I’m on it.”

He released the hook and it hit the lamp, breaking it along with the window behind them.

The two of them began laughing at it.

“Our uncle told us there was nothing strange about this town.  But look at me, and what I can do?  Who knows what other secrets are waiting to be unlocked?” 

_______

Emile looked around him.  Thomas had left hours ago, and the kids were asleep.  They were all the way upstairs too, so they wouldn’t be able to hear him.  He walked over to the vending machine and typed in the code to get in.

Before he closed it, he made sure that no one was watching.

He then closed the machine’s door.

[multisfabulis]

Trust’s Complexities

Word Count: 3889

TW: Referenced self harm, referenced drug/alcohol usage, and implied abuse

So this was a surprise project I decided to write because I was inspired to write something similar to a fanfic I read around the time. Took me only 10 days to finish this and I’m surprisingly happy that, outside of two sections I needed to rewrite, this was written as is. It’s another RLD segment as well so I got to write more of my two favorite emotionally constipated assholes so that was great!

Fun fact: this is just about 200 words shorter than “A Game of Spite” was so that’s neat!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA

     Ravi knocked on the door several times, glancing around as he did so. He felt uncomfortable being here. The whole place reeked of smoke and mildew and he felt as if he were being watched. It was a good thing he decided to wear his jacket before coming here. So long as he kept the hood up and the jacket zipped, he could pass as a guy looking to get his next fix rather than the androgynous mess he was.

     “Come on, Luce, answer the damn door already,” he grumbled under his breath as he knocked again.

     It had been over a week since he last saw Luce. His visiting him after work became part of his routine so when he hadn’t shown up the first couple days, he grew concerned. As the days went on, his concern deepened to worry. Their last meeting had him cleaning up the other’s self-inflicted cuts so he had reason to be anxious.

     What if he wasn’t okay? What if he was lying on the floor bleeding out because he cut himself too deep? What if he was already…? He shook his head to rid himself of the bad thoughts swirling around in his mind.

     He was probably fine and he was just overreacting. Luce’s like a cockroach; annoying and notoriously hard to get rid of. At least he wasn’t as gross looking as one, at any rate.

     The door swung open just as he was about to knock again. He looked up into Luce’s tired red gaze, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes. His cheeks were sunken in and his skin seemed paler than usual. There wasn’t any blood dripping down his fingers like last time so that was good. About the only good thing he could see from how haggard he looked.

     “Snowbird.” His voice sounded hoarse.

     “You look like shit,” he said, biting back the urge to correct him. “Sound like it, too.”

     Smiling tiredly and letting out a scoff, he replied sarcastically, “Thanks. That what you normally say to someone you haven’t seen in over a week?”

     “If I could say that to everyone who came to work, I would, believe me.”

     If he could still act like a dick to him, then he was fine. Yet the worry kept nagging at him, especially with how horrible he looked right now. What happened in the past week to make him like this?

     “So what are you doing here?” Luce asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

     “Checking in on you?” he replied confusedly, “Why else would I be here?”

     “You were worried about me?”

     “Yeah, I know, it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

     A shout from around the corner made him jump. Yep, this place deserved a “fuck you” and he wanted to hightail it the hell outta there. If Luce didn’t invite him in this instant, he was gonna barge in there himself.

     Stepping to the side and beckoning him in, he asked, “You wanna come in?”

     “Oh, god, yes,” he replied, quickly walking inside the apartment.

     It became quite apparent that this place was just as bad as the outside as soon as he entered the living room. The best word he could use to describe the smell was ass and he couldn’t tell if the faded yellow walls were painted like that or stained with nicotine. Another thing he noticed was just how bare everything was. Aside from basic furniture, there were no pictures, decorations, just anything to make it look like it was lived in. This was depressing.

     “Well--” he took his hood down and unzipped his jacket-- “I don’t know which is worse, the inside or the outside, and I want to die.”

     “Oh, hush, it’s fine,” Luce said, closing the door behind him. “Besides, this was how it was when I moved in.”

     “What, was the last person who lived here a fucking smoke factory?” he asked.

     “Like you don’t smoke.”

     “I do it outside on the fire escape! This looks like they painted the room with nicotine and did a shitty job!”

     A laugh fell out of Luce’s mouth as Ravi went over to the nearest window to open it. While it wasn’t much better outside, the smell was at least bearable. Now, if only he had some hand sanitizer so he didn’t feel like he’d be catching a disease by merely touching the stuff in here…

     “So, where have you been?” he asked. “As stupid as it was, I was worrying over you.”

     Running a hand over his head, he replied, “You sure you wanna know? It’s not exactly pretty, Snowbird.”

     “Uh, yeah.” He shoved his hands inside his jacket pockets. “Why else would I be here if I knew it wasn’t something serious?”

     “I’m an addict, trying to get clean.”

     Well, that shut him up. It managed to explain why he looked like absolute garbage and why he hadn’t been seen in over a week. He always seemed so calm and attentive, not what he imagined addicts to be like. Then again, there were times he’d catch him fidgeting so that might’ve been an early sign.

     He looked down at the poor excuse of a coffee table. Faded rings and specks of white dust marred the otherwise oaken brown wood. Guess that answers the question of what he was addicted to.

     “Bet that must’ve sucked,” was all he could say, a couple laughs sprinkled in among the words.

     “Yeah, it sucked like hell,” he said, sitting down on the couch. “Not the worst hell I’ve gone through but it was hell all the same.”

     “Is that why you…” He rolled his shoulders and grimaced.

     “No but it’s sorta related to why I decided to sober up.”

     “Which was…?”

     “How should I explain this? Let’s just say that, when you were treating my cuts, I didn’t do what I usually did when someone would touch me.”

     “You don’t like being touched?”

     “Blame my lovely mother and father for that. Gentle and loving they were not and ruined touch before I even knew it wasn’t supposed to hurt.”

     Now this was a first for him: guilt. Yeah, Luce would’ve been in trouble if he didn’t help him and he didn’t know about that aversion of his but that didn’t ease the guilt he felt. Did he unknowingly remind him of the pain he suffered?

     “Hey, Luce, um…” God, he was never good at this sort of thing. “if I triggered you in any way by doing that, then---”

     “Snowbird, it’s fine,” he said, no doubt trying to assuage his guilt, “you didn’t do anything wrong. I know you were just trying to help.”

     He always had trouble discerning whether Luce was lying or not. If it wasn’t said in his typical teasing and irritating manner, then he meant it. Then again, he seemed like the type of person to lie about something like that so as to not worry others. Hell, him just now finding out about the other’s addictions was proof of that.

     “Anyway, if it weren’t for you doing that, I wouldn’t have realized it.” He gave him a tilt of his head in confusion. “I trust you.”

     He looked at him in shock as what he said began to sink in. He trusted him, something he couldn’t believe was a thing. Yet it wasn’t a lie. He said it without any hesitance or amusement to his voice.

     The concept of trust was easy enough to understand. Trust was just something that was unheard of in these parts. Trusting someone meant leaving yourself open for a knife in the back and the pain that followed afterwards. It was too great a risk for him to take, especially with so much riding on his shoulders.

     Trust was only something he had for himself. He couldn’t trust people to look after him and Amelia after their parents’ death and he couldn’t trust them now. Trust and people were things he couldn’t afford to waste time on. It was so much easier being a loner than a person others saw as an easy target. If life was going to force that upon him, then he was damn well going to abide by it.

     But was that right? Could he really and truly say he didn’t trust anyone? The only person he could maybe have a smidgen of trust for was… Oh, goddammit. Of course it had to be him. It had to be the biggest asshole he ever had the utter displeasure of knowing.

     Honestly speaking, it could be worse. While Luce was and always will be an asshole, he wasn’t an asshole. He didn’t look at him the way other men had, much less touch him when the rules explicitly discourage that. Then there was the whole matter of nursing his cuts and worrying about him after a week of not seeing him… Yep, it was official. He trusted Luce.

     Scoffing, Ravi said disdainfully, “Boy, you’re a real dumbass for trusting someone like me. Why would you ever want to trust a person who talks shit behind people’s backs as much as I do?”

     “Snowbird, stop.” The way he said that so seriously unnerved him. “Why do you always put yourself down like that?

     “Yeah, you talk like an asshole but you’re far from being one. You’re kinder than you give yourself credit for. In all the time I’ve known you, you’re willing to put up with anything and make whatever sacrifices are necessary if it means the little snowdove will be taken care of. Hell, you were willing to help and worry over a guy like me, someone you’ve only known for a few months. She’s lucky to have you in her life.” He stood up and walked over to hesitantly take hold of his hand. “As am I.”

     Blood rushed up to his cheeks in a rare display of fluster. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die from that embarrassing spectacle. How dare he make him blush!

     Letting out a chuckle, Luce said amusingly, “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you blush, Snowbird.”

     “Shut up!” He backed away suddenly, feeling his face grow hotter. “I’m only doing it because you had to be a dick and do that!”

     “What, speak the truth?” he replied, shrugging.

     He fanned his face to cool off while huffing. It was humiliating enough to hear him say all that but even more so to know he meant it. No one ever spoke that highly about him in his eighteen years of life. That was also his first time having anyone actually reach out and touch him in that manner. It was strange and new and…a sensation he wasn’t entirely uncomfortable with.

     “You’re actually kinda cute when you’re like this,” Luce teased, smirking.

     Crossing his arms, he retorted, “Oh, great, the flirting’s back. Not like I missed that while you were holed up here!”

     “Okay, okay, look, I’m sorry.” His smirk turned into a warm, if small, smile as he leaned to one side. “What’ll make you feel better?”

     “...Let me see how much you trust me.”

     “Okay.”

     “You don’t even know what it is yet!”

     “You wanna see how far you can touch me before I ask you to stop, right?”

     He had him there. He wanted to see how much he trusted him and, as horrible as it was, how else could he observe that than by touching him? Even if it was to satiate his curiosity, it felt wrong to essentially exploit Luce’s trigger. It wouldn’t matter how much trust was between them if it became shattered by doing this.

     “I won’t do it if you’re uncomfortable with it,” he vowed. “I don’t wanna go too far to where you get a panic attack because I didn’t respect your boundaries.”

     “I know you won’t,” he replied in the serious tone from before.

     “Don’t say stuff just so I don’t worry. Tell me if you’ll be okay or not.”

     “Lemme prove it to you.”

     Thin fingers wrapped around his wrists as he placed his hands on his cheeks. He had to stand up on his toes in order to reach him. His cheeks felt warm against his half covered palms. This felt weird yet strangely nice.

     “Now do you believe me?” he asked.

     Retracting his hands, he replied with a simple “Yeah.”

     “Well--” he kept a hand locked around his wrist as he sat back down on the couch and positioned him to be in front-- “do what you want.”

     “What if I go too far? Luce, I don’t---”

     “I know you won’t. I trust you.”

     It was shocking to see such a change in Luce from a week ago to now. He hadn’t noticed it before but touch was never exchanged between them. Up until their last meeting, physical contact was nonexistent. Now, he couldn’t keep his hands off him, something he guessed was good since it meant he overcame his aversion somewhat. Why wasn’t there a better word for overcome?

     His thumbs ran over his cheekbone as his nails brushed his earlobes. He seemed to be okay for now, his eyes closed and delicate lashes resting atop his cheeks. Something glinted in the early evening sun and he reached out to touch it. Soon as his fingers grazed his ears, his grip on his wrist tightened and his brow furrowed.

     “You okay?”

     “Yeah, it’s just… I don’t have the best experiences with people touching my ears, one way or another.”

     “You want me to stop?”

     “No, I’ll be fine. I just need to remember it’s you and not…her.”

     Despite his misgivings, he pressed onward. He brushed dark locks away from an ear to see what was twinkling in the light. Two simple stud earrings adorned his ear, mildly surprising him.

     “Didn’t know you had ear piercings.”

     “The eyebrow one didn’t tip you off?”

     “Well, your hair’s so damn long, I couldn’t see them till now.”

     Luce chuckled as he decided to move on. His fingers threaded through his hair before arriving at the nape of his neck. Already, Luce was sucking in a breath as if bracing himself for his touch. He slowly trailed down, gauging the other’s face for a reaction telling him to stop. His middle and ring finger swept over a particular spot and that earned him a response.

     He leaned into his touch, slightly dragging him along by his wrist. That must’ve meant he liked it, at least what he assumed that to be. He began pressing his fingers into that spot, massaging it and caressing it. Doing that made Luce turn his head and bury his mouth into his free hand.

     “Oh, Ravinn…” he mumbled, the hand gripping his wrist moving up to capture his.

     The sudden shock of hearing his name stayed his hand. That was the first time Luce ever said his name, his full name at that. Now he knew there was something serious going on between them. He only really started suspecting it a little bit ago but this just proved it.

     He brought his other hand back up to his cheek. His heart began to beat faster as he wondered what to say. How could he give voice to seemingly random thoughts without coming off as a creep? How would Luce react to him asking for one? Why did he want this with him? All these questions with no answer in sight and it frustrated him to the point of exasperation. He just had to go for it.

     “Luce, is it okay if I…” Red eyes peeked out from underneath crescent lashes as his eyes darted to his lips.

     Luce’s answer was letting out a breath he seemed to be holding in while closing his eyes once more. He was unsure of what that meant before he felt an arm bring him in closer by the waist. It gave him an idea but he needed to know.

     “Is that a yes?”

     “Yes.”

     Tilting his head up, he leaned in close and tried to stifle a shaky breath. This was it, the moment of truth. This could either make or break whatever he had with Luce so he needed to not regret this. With closed eyes and breaths mingling, he gently pressed his lips against his.

     His tongue traced over his lips, asking if he could go further. Luce tentatively parted his mouth and he took his time diving in. He didn’t want to scare him or feel like he was disregarding his boundaries. He may not know what his experiences with kissing were but he wanted this one to be good. Their mouths moved in slow unison, hands on his back and warmth settling into his core. He pulled away first, opening his eyes to see the other’s fond gaze.

     It wasn’t like other kisses he’d see on TV. It wasn’t intense, wasn’t very long, and it didn’t devolve into making out. Yet it felt good, it felt nice, it was just…a short and sweet kiss. He liked kissing Luce and it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it to be. His first kiss was with Luce, something he was admittedly happy with.

     Luce buried his head into his chest, arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He carded through his dark hair, playing with it and feeling the soft locks go through his fingers. No words were spoken between them, hearing only the sounds of their quiet breathing. They simply held each other, content to stay like this for however long they wanted.

     It was safe to say he wasn’t “friends” with Luce anymore. They were something else now, something he couldn’t put a word to. Dating wasn’t right and being in a relationship was too close. He knew he felt something with him but who’s to say it’ll still be there later? Who’s to say Luce wanted to be with him? He’s only a week sober, his emotions might still be jumbled up. Either way, this was a complicated mess of wants versus realism.

     He wanted to be with him, he surprisingly did. But a relationship just wasn’t feasible right now. He needed to focus on giving Amelia a better life, the future that was suddenly ripped away from him close to 5 years ago. She was his top priority and nothing would ever change that.

     Yet he knew she’d want him to be happy. So, maybe, by that logic, it’d be okay to pursue whatever this was with Luce. It’d be temporary, of course, but it meant he wouldn’t feel guilty for being selfish.

     “Hey, Luce? He felt a rumble against his chest. “You okay with…being whatever this is?”

     He turned his head to the side and replied, “Yeah. I don’t know what this is but yeah.”

     “You sure? It may not last long.”

     “I know and I’m positive. I’ll just enjoy the time I spend with you till then.”

     He let out a rare chuckle, his arms around his neck in an embrace. He knew of the circumstances surrounding his love life and he understood. If only the men who’d repeatedly ask him out at work did the same…

     This was a thing they had. Describing it as a relationship sounded too permanent and exclusive. It was an indefinite fling, something he planned on making the most out of while he still could. It may be a complicated mess but he didn’t care if people couldn’t understand it because it would work for him.

     “Is it okay if I stay for a little bit more?” he asked. “I know I’ve got Amelia waiting for me back home but I told her I’d be gone for a while so…”

     “Yeah, that’s fine,” he replied, his hold on him tightening as he brought him in even closer, his face in the crook of his neck.

     Playing with his hair once more, Ravi dropped down into his lap. He could get used to this. With this being his first foray into the world of romance, he was bound to stumble or even fuck up a couple times. They’d deal with those when they came up later down the road. For now, this was nice.

     “And Luce? I trust you.” He should’ve said it earlier but now was as good a time as any.

     “I figured as much.” His breath tickled the side of his neck and he could just see the smirk that annoyed him so.

     “Shut up.” Without the usual bite of his tone, the corners of his mouth turned up into an even rarer smile.

[video-killed-the-radio-host]

Father Dearest

With the help of the ever amazing @acealex-blueiguana , we wrote some angst about Cecil’s not very nice father.

TW: racism against Carlos, homophobia, deadnaming, misgendering

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

Cecil puts the phone down, his face paler than usual. He leans on the counter and presses a hand over his mouth.

Carlos looks up from his work at the table. "Cecil? What is it?" He stands. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Cecil turns, burying his face in Carlos's shoulder.

"Love, I need you to talk to me." Carlos says softly, rubbing Cecil's back.

Cecil picks up his head. "My father is coming over for dinner." He whispers.

"I thought your father was dead?"

Cecil shakes his head but doesn't look up. "No. I wish I could say he was though."

"Maybe he wants to make amends?"

"You really think so?"

"We shouldn't rule it out."

Cecil nods but doesn't look convinced. He lets out a soft sigh and looks away. "Michael will be home soon."

"What are we going to tell your father?"

"It's none of his damn business!" Cecil snaps before taking a breath. "I'm sorry." He whispers. "I'm sorry."

"Hey." Carlos murmurs, cupping Cecil's face. "We'll figure it out. I promise." He turns as the door opens. Michael stands there for a moment, laughing and waving at presumably at Mika.

Michael walks into the house, shutting and locking the door behind him. "Home!" He calls out and carefully walks to the kitchen counter to lay his backpack down.

Carlos steps away from Cecil after giving him a soft kiss. "How was your day?" He asks,pulling open the fridge. "I'm thinking lasagna for dinner. What do you think?"

"There was a fight at school. Bet ya can guess at least one person involved." He smirks. "Whatever you make is always good. Still better than my house." The words come so easily. This is home to him now, but when did the change in his mind happen?

Carlos laughs. "Even Cecil's cooking is better than your house.'

"Hey! Rude. My cooking isn't that bad."

Carlos closes the fridge. "You made toast inedible."

"Maybe I like it burnt."

"Not even Khoshekh would eat it."

Cecil huffs a pout before looking at Michael. "Michael...um...my father is coming over tonight. I wanted to let you know."

The boy tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed. "Your father? How did he even find you?" He asks before shaking his head and twisting his sleeves. "Do- um- do you want me to stay someplace else while hes here then? I can stay at the station or see if Mika will let me crash with them- theyre normally down for it…"

"I have no idea…" Cecil shakes his head. "No. This is your home and if he doesn't like it, he can leave." As much as he didn't want to admit it, having Michael there would help to keep him grounded.

"Okie dokie." He pauses. "Um… if you change your mind, let me know. I can get Mika to pick me up if needed… I'm not really the greatest kid, and I dont wanna cause problems with your da- father."

"I'd rather have you here than him." Cecil says with a small smile.

Carlos puts the pasta dough and a jar of homemade sauce on the counter. "Do you know anything about your father?"

Cecil shakes his head with a sigh. "Never met him."

"Samesies." Michael says, trying to lighten the mood, before giving Cecil a hug. "We'll figure it out."

"Yes we will because that's what we do." Carlos smiles.

Cecil nods a little, wrapping his arms around Michael. "Yeah."

Unsure how to help right now, the boy changes topic to get Cecils mind on something else. "Mika was in the fight. They did good as usual. They also got suspended but promised they'd still walk me there and hang around until its time for us to go home."

"Who did they fight this time? And why?"

Carlos shakes his head with a laugh. "That kid is something else." He says as he starts to roll out the dough.

"One of the jocks on the football team. They threw food at Roger, so Mika threw a fist." He smiles. "Roger's okay. We checked on him before they got dragged to the office."

"Ah that means I'll be getting a phone call from a conflicted Earl later then." Cecil chuckles softly. "Oh well. I'm glad he had someone to stand up for him."

Carlos looks over his shoulder. "I don't condone fighting but i hope Mika kicked their ass."

"We both try to stand up for him, but Mika does a much better job." He nods. "They definitely kicked his ass. The dude didnt even know what was happening at first."

"I'm sure you won't have a problem with him anymore."

Carlos lets out a loud groan, making Cecil jump. "We are out of garlic!"

"Carlos it's not the end of the world."

"It's bad luck. My mama said that if you don't have garlic in your house when a stranger comes, bad things will happen."

"So get more garlic?" Michael offers. "Did you have garlic when I showed up?"

"Course we did. It wasn't fresh though…"

"I'll just run to the store and-" Cecil is cut off by the doorbell. He pales a little. "He's here." He whispers.

"Breathe, dad. We got this." The boy hugs Cecil tighter. "I'll get the door if ya want."

Cecil shakes his head. "No. I'll be alright."  He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders before crossing to the front door and opening it. He stared at the man on the other side of the door in shock. He looked just like Cecil, same deep eyes and platinum hair. He was lacking the winding tattoos though as far as Cecil could see. No wonder my mother hated looking at me. Cecil thinks.

Brian stands for a moment before crossing his arms. "You going to make your old man stand outside all night?"

Cecil quietly moves to the side, watching the man enter the house.

Michael grabs his bag off the countertop and slings one strap over his shoulder. "I'll- um- go put my stuff away…" he says to Carlos: his tone hinting at his growing anxiety. Visitors at his house always meant stricter parents than normal. After all, they have to save face and br the happy family the Richardsons claim they are.

He cautiously walks into the living room, doing his best to stay hidden and out of the way. He just has to make it to his room.

Carlos nods and puts a reassuring hand on Michael's shoulder before joining Cecil in the living room. "Hello Mr. Palmer. I'm-"

"Cecil you got yourself a maid?" Brian asks, looking impressed.

"I'm not-"

"Carlos is my husband." Cecil corrects.

"No. No son of mine is a fag."

Michael tenses at the word. "Not really your son." The kid, against his better judgement, mumbles under his breath as he's halfway across the room.

That catches Brian's attention and he studies the child. "You must be Michelle. The nice lady in yellow at the station told me about you."

"His name is Michael." Cecil says, shoulders tense. "And-"

Sensing that Cecil is about to ramble, Carlos speaks up. "Would you like a drink? Dinner is in the oven so we have about forty five minutes before we can eat."

"Got any whiskey?"

"We don't drink."

Brian cocks an eyebrow. "Since when? Last I heard you were a drunk and a whore." He snaps at Michael. "Get me a drink girl."

Of course she did. Lauren is just wonderful that way isnt she. Michael tries to brush off the sinking feeling in his stomach. He still has to put his bag away after all, so he ignores the request. Brian makes him feel similar to his Father, but Cecil and Carlos wouldnt let him hurt him. Right?

So Michael just grips his strap tighter and continues walking to the guest room. Theyve got forty five minutes to survive this "pleasant" conversation. He can manage that.

"Leave him alone. I'll get your drink." Cecil stands, grateful for the excuse to leave the room. He gets a glass of water but leans on the counter to collect himself. He hears his father call after him, something about not liking his attitude.

"Kids these days. To lazy to even listen." He looks at the Hispanic man he was left alone with. "It's bad enough my son is a fag but he settled for a mexican of all people?"

Carlos tightens his jaw and waits before answering. "I am not a Mexican. Not all Hispanics are from Mexico. I'm from Chile."

"I don't care what you are."

Michael flings his bag onto the bed. "People fucking suck." He says to himself. He doesnt want to go back out there, but he doubts Carlos or Cecil would be happy with him hiding away. So he snags his rubiks cube off the night stand and makes his way back to the living room.

"I'm not going to sit here and let you insult me."

"Well you're free to go back to the field you came from with-" Brian clicks his tongue. "Six bastard kids?"

"Here." Cecil interrupts before Carlos could answer. "All we have is water." That isn't the truth but his father didn't need to know about the bottle of wine stored away for a special day.

"Damn took you long enough. I see your mother didn't teach you anything about good manners."

"She was too busy raising two kids by herself."

"And what's your excuse with her?" He gestures at Michael.

Michael glances up at him before turning his attention back to the rubiks cube. It's the only way to keep himself from misbehaving. The click of the cube and the ability to keep his hands busy help his anxiety in a manner that doesnt destroy the sleeves of hoodies. Hes trying to swallow the growing pit of dysphoria, knowing that this evening will only make it worse.

"He's fine." Carlos sits down in a recliner as Cecil settles in the rocking chair. "You're hardly in a place to give parenting advice."

Cecil looks over, his face pale again. "Carlos…"

Brian shakes his hand and sets the glass down with a thud. "What you know about being a father? Besides the fact that you're supposed to throw sandals at them to shut them up."

The boy flinches at the cup and bites his tongue. He wants to say something. He wants to stand up for his dads, but hes scared. He doesnt know how Brian will react, and hes only just starting to heal again after being beaten by his own father.

"Is there a reason you're here or did you just come to insult my lifestyle?"

Looking away from Carlos, Brian looks at Cecil. "You'll do well to speak when spoken to boy."

"You'll do well to-"

"Why don't we change the subject?"

Michael keeps his head down, afraid of what might happen if he steps out of line. He's nearly done with solving the rubiks cube. Click. Click. Click. The sound near deafening when the conversation has silences.

"Fine. Straight to the chase then."

Cecil doesn't answer, pulling out his latest project and a set of knitting needles. He does look up when he feels eyes on him.

"Do you have any sense of manhood at all?"

"He could kill you with those needles." Carlos muses. "And I'd help."

Click. Click. Click. The boy smiles as he solves the cube. "Carlos?" He asks. Waving the cube at the scientist, he silently asks for him to shuffle before tossing it across the room to him.

Carlos catches the cube and looks at it for a moment before beginning to shuffle it. He turns it and shakes his head, shuffling it more before tossing it back. "There ya go."

"Some of us appreciate the beauty in art and take pride in what they make." He looks up at his father. "Even if it isn't what you want." He had a cold but sad look in his eyes.

"If it isn't good enough, toss it away and start over. That's common sense."

"The Chinese fix broken things with gold to show they are still beautiful despite being broken."

"Well last I check we are not Chinese. And we are to good for broken things. When something breaks, throw it away."

Michael scoffs at Brian's first words. That's what his birth parents did, but Cecil is different. "And you know all about common sense." He mutters as he works on the cube again. The kid knows he's not suppose to speak but cant help it. This dick is a moron, and hes lucky that Mika didnt stay for dinner like usual.

"Excuse me little girl?"

"You're good at throwing things away." Cecil whispers.

"You will not speak to your father that way."

"You cant call yourself that. You're just a deadbeat sperm donor." Michael snaps before he can catch himself.

"That is definitely out of line…" He mentally scolds himself. "Mika will find this amusing."

"You gave up the right to call yourself my father when you walked out before my mother and I even left the hospital." Cecil snaps, dropping his project to his lap.

"You haven't earned the right to have me be your father."

"You never even gave me the chance to try and be good enough for you!"

Carlos flinches at Cecil's words but tenses as Brian stands.

Panic and fear flood Michael's system when Brian stands, but the idea of him hurting Cecil forces himself to his feet. A giant on one end and a teen a little over five feet on the other. Brian is like his Father, but for some reason he doesnt feel as terrified standing up to him. "This is not your house. You do not get to talk to my dad like that." He growls.

Cecil keeps his eyes level with Brian as he stands, despite his heart pounding in his chest. Especially when Michael speaks.

Brian stops his track toward Cecil and turns on Michael. "You do not tell me how to deal with my son. I'm too late to make a decent man but I'm sure that can change."

Cecil stands and moves across the room, stopping in front of the older man. "I am not afraid of you, Brian Alexander Palmer."

Cecil barely flinches when a wide hand comes across his face.

"You do not get to address me like that. I am your father!"

"Abby was more of a father to me than you ever could have been."

Carlos manages to catch Brian's wrist before he can hit Cecil again. The motion causes Brian's sleeve to slip down a little.

Cecil's eyes fall on the marks on Brian's arms. The needle marks he knew all too well. I'm just like him….

Maybe Mika wasnt the best influence, or maybe they were the best one Michael could have.

As soon as Brian hit Cecil, Michael was reacting. He would gladly take pain if it kept Cecil safe. Rage immediately flooded the panic that was in his chest, and he throws the rubiks cube directly at Brian's head. "Asshole!" Michael yells. Hands clenched into fists; his body moving forward towards the bastard. Fight or flight. For once the boy chooses to fight.

Brian's head snapped to the side when it was struck by the plastic cube and he jerks his hand free from Carlos's grip. "You little bitch!" He brings his heel down on the cube, feeling it break under his foot. "I'll put you in your place since my worthless son can't seem to do that."

Cecil and Carlos react at the same time, rushing toward Brian as he lunges toward Michael.

Carlos manages to get ahold of the back of Brian's shirt but Cecil gets an elbow to the Face and stumbles back.

Too late to change my mind now. Michael's eyes dart to Cecil as he gets knocked back, but he stands his ground. Fists clenched, and eyes determined. He knows how to dodge and throw a punch. Hes not allowed to defend himself, but hes not defending himself right now. Hes defending Cecil. Hes defending his dad.

Carlos pulls Brian back towards him and away from Michael. "Not in my house."

Brian struggles against Carlos's hold. "The little brat needs to know her place."

Cecil picks himself up, nose bleeding a little but he didn't care. "You will not lay a hand on my son."

"My place is here. You do not get to talk to my dads like that." Murder in the boy's eyes.

"Where is your real family? Cause I sure as hell know this isn't it. Cecil's to dumb to keep anything alive more than a week."

"Out." Cecil says, voice shaking a little. "I want you out of my house."

"I came for dinner and we haven't eaten yet so I'm not leaving until I get what I came for."

Carlos brings his free and up to grasp the back of Brian's neck. "You heard him."

"This is my real family. But you havent met everyone." His eyes hold fire as he stares at the bastard. "Trevor! Can you help? Please!" The boy yells, making sure the sheriff's secret policeman can clearly hear. "Be lucky Mika didnt stay for dinner, or youd already be dead. You are nothing but worthless scum. So get out."

"Who the hell is Trevor?"

"If you bothered to stick around, you'd know." Cecil couldn't fight the smirk as the door was flung open.

"In my defense," Trevor says as he makes his way toward where Brian was struggling in Carlos's hold. "I would have intervened sooner but I didn't want to spook you. Also I found cool lizard in the bush." The Secret Policeman stops in front of Brian. "I was wondering if I'd ever see your face again Brian. I haven't missed it." He punches Brian in the nose, causing a satisfying crack. "That's for hitting an upstanding member of our town." He then thumbs Brian's forehead. "That's cause you're ugly."

"I appreciate it, Trevs." Michael smiles. "Did ya get any pictures of the lizard?"

"Hold em for me?" Trevor takes Michael's hand and puts down a blue gecko with orange spots. "It's not poisonous. I already checked. I'll take this" He takes ahold of Brian's arm. "And be back soon."

"You better take your hands off of me! I have rights!"

"Night Vale doesn't work like the outside world and I'm sure you'll find that out." Carlos calls with a wave before looking back at Cecil.

His nose had stopped bleeding which is good but he still was shaken up.

"Hey" Carlos says softly. "It's alright. He's gone now."

The boy cups his hands to keep the gecko in his hold. "I'm sorry for not behaving and staring a scene… I didnt mean for you to get hurt…" Michael whispers. He made it worse. Maybe he shouldve stayed with Mika.

Cecil shakes his head. "I was dumb to think he would be a nice guy." He sits down and puts his head in his hands. "I'm sorry I let him in here. I should have known better."

"There's no way you could have known…"

"I should have known! And what if I turn out just like him? I already am like him…." He groans. "I should have known."

Michael plays with the lizard as he walks over to Cecil. "Hey…" He gently taps Cecil with his foot. "You're not like him. I can prove it. Do ya want me t list all the ways I already know you're nothing like him?"

"He has my face and…" he leans down and rolls up his pant leg, revealing the needle scars. "It's easier to hide on my legs. I'm no better than he is."

The boy ignores Cecils attempt to argue. Hes not shocked by the scars; Em had told him about Cecil's past before. Still playing with the lizard, he sits on the floor.

"You dont drink. Ya dont misgender me- not accidentally and never intentionally unless it's to keep me safe from Mother and Father. You dont snap demands at me. You're not racist or sexist. Ya see good in broken things, and you dont see them as just trash to be thrown away. You havent walked out on your family." He lists. "Ya never broke my rubiks cube before." He gives a small smile. "You let me play with Tic Tac which I know he wouldnt ever allow if they belonged to him. You're a good dad."

"According to Abby so was he until I came along."

"And yet...you made the best you could with a shitty hand and you didn't let it beat you. Because you're stronger than he is. You are not your past. And you are not him. You are better than him."

"According to my case worker, Mother and Father were good people before I came along. Does it make it my fault that they're not good people now?" He asks wanting to prove a point.

Cecil opens his mouth to argue but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the over going off.

"See? Even the oven disagrees with you." Carlos chuckles. He stands and goes to the oven to pull dinner out.

"I know this shouldn't bother me as much as it does but it's a...chain isn't it? Hereditary?" He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't want to be like that."

"Theres no way you'll be like that. Carlos wouldnt let ya. You arent your father. Hes more of a sperm donor actually, and that doesnt determine how the kid will turn out. I dont know my birth parents, but I dont think I'm like them. I mean I wouldnt give up a defenseless kid and have them left in the snowy night only a couple hours of being alive. That's just a messed up thing to do." He pauses, taking one of Cecils hand and letting the gecko crawl onto it. "You already have shown that you're much better than Brian. You're a dad. Hes a deadbeat."

Cecil gives a small smile at the lizard before looking up at Michael. "It isn't often we switch roles." He says, his expression soft. "You're such a good kid."

"No, I'm a terrible child." He smiles. "Mika is so gonna have a field day when they find out I yelled and threw my rubiks cube at your sperm donor."

"I hope he's locked away when you tell them about how I let myself get slapped because they might go nuts."

"You didnt even flinch! I dont know how you did that! I flinched when he put his cup down too hard."

"I think I knew it was coming. I've spent enough time with pissing off Lauren to know when I'm about to get hit. Or stabbed. Or kicked. Or- yeah. I think you get the idea."

"I'm use to it too, but I still flinch. Even when m not gonna get hit, I still flinch. Its impressive."

"Tell ya a secret. I almost went into cardiac arrest. It's amazing I didn't."

"How about you stop talking about dying and come eat before this gets cold?" Carlos calls.

"I propose after dinner we watch a movie and try to salvage this evening. What do you think?"

"I couldve fought him. You and Carlos were quick to shutting that down though. Lame." He giggles and stands up, grabbing Cecils arm and trying to pull him up. "What movie?"

"I didn't want to risk you getting hurt. I can take more than you can." Cecil points out as he stands. "Coraline?"

"If I can knock you on your ass and slam Father into a wall with my ankle more sprained than usual, I think I could handle Brian." He huffs before smiling. "Okie dokie."

"I had never met him. I don't know what kind of damage he could do. I refused to risk your safety. And that's all I'm saying on it." Cecil says, hoisting Michael over his shoulder and depositing him at the kitchen table.

The boy squeaks when Cecil lifts him up and laughs when he gets dropped off at the table.

"Children. Settle down so we can eat." Carlos said,sitting the pan on the table. "Don't make me smack you both with a spoon."

"Uh rude."

"Oh hush and eat."