#would u call them Mist-Spiders? If they were all like this

[transgirl-from196]

This is genuinely so cool! I love it :O

Like the comparison between the movement style of Mistborn and Spider-Man has occurred to me before since they’re both so acrobatic. Just the way they can leap and throw themselves around off of every surface and almost defy gravity - if the movement in a Mistborn film was even half as awesome as in a Spider-Man film I think I would lose it lol. That’s how I picture it in the books.

But I’ve never thought of combining the two! That’s genius, I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before. And the idea of Allomantic lines as webs, it makes perfect sense! Incredible stuff op

Vin: Into the SpiderVerse

A concept art I made some days ago. I couldn’t get it done as I wanted but I decided to leave it like that.

The concept was that the Allomantic lines come out of the metals and she would use them as spider webs.

[acodexofourtime]

Be My Demitasse

“Life emerged from the sea, and after a time, it found its way back to it,” thought Doctor Orfeo as he poured himself a cup of coffee from a small aluminum pot.  There he sat at a café overlooking the lower reaches of Santa Ninfa, each building drained of joy as much as the next.  He watched as his little golden spoon dove into the crests of white crema that swirled over the surface of his dark coffee, and set the spoon aside to take a sip.

It had already been a year since he last saw his counterpart from the deep ocean, Doctor Ione, having promised each other they would focus on their respective work.  He could almost see the errant strands of seaweed woven into her hair.  Her skin was the color of rich dark sand, the depths of which could contain an entire universe of life and the fossils of waves yet to come.

Not long after he received a note from Don Benedetto’s servant on that day, saying farewell to his guardian cloves of spectral garlic hung just inside the entryway to his room, he left Santa Ninfa’s spider web of narrow streets, snaking his way to the villa set upon the bluff overlooking the city, passing by no shortage of ossified birds, lizards, and perhaps the outstretched effigies of people that were melded to the walls of the tufa that formed the Don’s Citadel, after centuries of volcanic eruptions peppered its ancient gates with their still forms.

The Doctor was led into Don Benedetto’s grounds by a sleepless henchwoman with a long braid that would whip to and fro like a metronome with every step, a detail which Doctor Orfeo did not miss, leaving him with a surprised smile as he tried to turn his attentions to the square-planed formal gardens leading up to the front double doors of the seashell white villa.

Inside, thick tapestries suffused the walls of all light, and mustard and walnut colored floor tiles echoed back each step as they made their way up a grand staircase into the Don’s chamber.

The Don himself was small, suffused with a crackling crimson mist, his features sallow and half hidden by pleated indigo sheets.  A forking mustache told the time in shadows upon the sides of his mouth, and his brows was creased with perspiration, which the Doctor noted as a side effect of anxiety more than a symptom of illness.

The Doctor, drawing out a small vacuum tube from his black and silver bag, began by asking the Don, “ How do you do, Don Benedetto.  I already know why you summoned me. I see your condition and know what to do to treat it. I just wrote a paper on it, in fact.”

The Don grunted in reply, “I am not given to grand statements here.  Name your price, and it’s yours.  Just help me.  No one else can.”

Doctor Orfeo paused, looking at the Don square in the eye as the Don’s henchperson stood in the back, wringing her hands about a jointed lead pipe.  “Money is one thing, but there’s a mine that you own outside the city, Don Benedetto.  I have seen to it that many of the miners are becoming immaterial - their essence is no longer of this time, or the next.  They have given their past to you, and they have no future to speak of.  I think the profit of that mine has declined to the point that it’s what we can call, ‘a well that has run dry.’  Give that mine to them, and let them pay you dividends.  You’ll see what they make of it in turn.”

The Don’s eyes nearly bugged out.  “My mine?  You’re fucking nuts, with all due respect, Doctor Orfeo.”

The doctor popped a small woven cord into the tail end of the glass vacuum tube.  His eyes turned calmly back to the Don.  “Yes or no, Don Benedetto?  I can help you here and now, or you can seek out the help of Doctor Mesmerato from the bottom of the barrel.”

Don Benedetto groaned, “You are a wicked man, Doctor Orfeo, and I will never forget the vice you shoved my head into today.  My memory is longer than the pain I’m feeling each time I breathe in this prickly smoke!  They have the mine.  As soon as I say it, mark my word, it’s done!”

At that, Doctor Orfeo held the vacuum tube up to the troublesome mist, and withdrew a small square black box, depressing a red button.  The vacuum tube began to glow with a blue, then red, then yellow light and then, with a loud bang, it suddenly opened by way of a tiny glass hinge at the top of the bulb, sucking up the miasma with a crackling scream, dragging it out of the air and the Don’s very nasal passages.  Once the bulb filled up with gas, the little glass hinge sucked itself closed.  With that, the Don’s pallor came back and he sat upright in bed as though nothing at all had ever happened.

The Doctor exhaled, “You should be fine now, Don Benedetto. If you’ll excuse me, I have to make my way back to my own affairs. I’ll let you send a message to the mine.”

With that, Doctor Orfeo packed up his things and left both the Don and the Don’s henchperson in the room, where he was led out by a man with a rather crooked nose, the Doctor’s right ear trailing blood.

Now, long after the fact, all that the Doctor had to show for it was this miserable table on a humid day, and the shadow of a sudden visitor before him-  a paid messenger with a tiny head wearing the featured Augury wings of the famed Fleet Foot Delivery Service, who extended a telegram his way and fished out payment from the money Doctor Orfeo had set aside to pay the cafe bill.  

Doctor Orfeo gave the messenger the stink eye, and opening the telegram, was confronted with a statement written in a hand he knew well: “BE MY DEMITASSE.”

[dreamrecorder]

Ok so- idk if you’ve seen demon slayer;; but there’s this episode (it was during the spider fambam arc) aNywaYs- so like. Rui yeets ties* (i guess-) Nezuko like. Up in the air. With his weird spider thread jazz— and like. It’s sHarP weird spider thread jazz— so she’s like. Yknow. Being sliced and diced with string— but it kindaaa reminds me of like. Xiao. And his like.... weird... sad.... uh. Karma. Thing. Like y’know where he’s like hanging from his arms- red stuff. Yeah. So like. Now for the actual request

Xiao’s s/o (female if you don’t mind;;) gets kidnapped by like— the fatui or smth. And they tie her up like Nezuko :D to be like “lol haha Xiao be all like-” and she’s just. Like. Dying. Slowly. Dripping b l o o d and yknow. All the tea. And Xiao comes to rescue her— and he’s like 0-0 “wait...” and he realizes that’s like- exactly what happens to him- and so. He beats the fatui’s butts saves his s/o, anddddd she like.

Idk. This is where I need your angst expertise ❤️ like- she could d i e. In his arms. And poor Xiao would be so scarred omg poor thing- BUT THE ANGST- but at the same time;;;; the f l u f f of him being able to save her just in time and she was like fighting for him the whole time or whatever and ended up needing him to save her anyways- and then Xiao feeding her almond tofu until she gets better ❤️❤️❤️

IM SORRY THAT WAS SO LONG- im probably going crazy from lack of sleep from reading fics for too long sndndnsnsj

But if you do this,,, BLESS YOUR SOUL I HOPE TO EITHER BALL MY EYES OUT OR SQUEAL FROM THE WHOLESOMENESS-

Anyways.... thank you! Have a stellar day~ ✨❤️

The heart yearns and the wind heard

lmao this ask is so adorable i hope you’d enjoy this ksks

anyway, full Angst train up ahead but there are moments of Fluff too. There are mentions of blood and violence if those are not your thing- dont worry guys, this goes with a happy ending cos you and Xiao deserve one~ on a final note- non canon compliant and suuuuuuper long- like- legit this is very long

The Yaksha sighs.

He’s here again. His mind and heart has returned his being into this crimson world his demons have created within him.

He feels it. He feels the corruption binding him tighter again for every death he brings by his tainted hands.

He looks at his bindings. And ever so slowly, the red and black coiling around his person will eventually reach his heart.

One day, he thinks, all this crimson and black in this world will swallow him whole and he will see the light no more.

Xiao sighs again.

This is his karmic debt.

~

The moment you stepped foot within Wangshu Inn, you knew he was in his prison again. After giving a quick greeting to the inn keeper, you hastily went to Xiao’s room. The closer you got, the heavier the atmosphere became.

You reached his door and knocked softly. As expected, no reply as he continues to struggle to take back his control over himself. Without hesitation, you stepped in. To anyone else, they would have instantly met his spear at their throats, but with you, this doesn’t happen. Instead, you see him crouched on the wooden floor with a hand on his chest. His knuckles were white and his breathing was ragged. His amber eyes- lost. Observing his form, yes… his moments of corruption are becoming progressively worse.

With swift steps of familiarity to this routine, you went to him and grasped his shoulders.

“Xiao, it’s me…” You whispered with clarity. And oh- how your voice brought a wave of comfort to his soul.

“N-name…” His voice cracked, but him calling to you is always a good sign.

You gave him a small smile and proceeded to grasp his hands together with yours. After which, you then leaned your forehead to his to chant your prayers. As your prayers progressed, slowly but surely, the corruption begins to fade along with the black mist that covered him. However, you took note how this ritual took longer than the last.

Once everything is done, Xiao just slumped onto your shoulders, still breathing deeply. “How are you feeling?” It was a useless question you asked every time this happens, but you always, always, have to make sure.

Usually, he would mutter a small ‘fine,’ but now- words seemed to have left his mind and all he could muster was an almost-unnoticeable shrug.

Truth be told- his response disheartened you, but you did not show it. Instead, you opted to simply encase him in your arms and caress his hair. After all, these are just one of the few, rare moments Xiao would leave himself into your care. Xiao is aware, himself, that his state has been becoming worse and worse. And you both know, that a day would come when he would just attack anyone- friend or foe- without a trace of hesitation. So, just this time- he speaks his feelings.

“Name?”

You answered immediately with a questioning hum.

“What would you do… when I finally lose control over myself?”

It was very subtle, but he felt how your hand stopped caressing his hair for a second, then proceeded to the previous task at hand again. In all honestly, you can never find yourself having an answer to that question. “And why would I ever let that happen to you?” You questioned back, fully aware that you were dodging his question.

Silence surrounded the two of you, unsure on what to do with the sudden heavier atmosphere.

Not wanting to face the cruelty of the world yet, Xiao simply buried himself on the crook of your neck even more. And despite the ghostly sensation of his lips on your skin, you could feel him mouth the words ‘I love you.’

“As long as I’m here,” you whispered, “nothing can hurt you.” And that was the most beautiful lie that the Yaksha has heard, but he was willing to believe all the same.

~

When word about Fatui diplomats starting a bank reached you, there was a nagging feeling in your head that trouble would bring itself present anytime soon. It was like an itch that wouldn’t get away. And the only way to have that itch gone is to scratch it.

“You are absolutely a fool.” Xiao stated darkly with crossed arms, for once disagreeing with the plans of his master.

“We can never know what their intentions are unless we let them start their bank, no?” Zhongli said as he gazed at the marsh spread beneath him.

The Yaksha only scoffed but said no more.

Building up your courage, you deemed it was your turn to voice out your thoughts, “Um… Rex Lapis, I see your point, but wouldn’t it be best to resolve the problem before it persists into something larger? We all know- All of Teyvat knows, that the Fatui are not to be trusted.”

Your archon offered you a kind smile, “I understand your worries, Name. However, as of the moment, they have not presented themselves as such. If they truly are our enemies, then it would be beneficial for us to know their intentions.”

You frowned deeply at his statement. Seeing you do so, somehow, your archon immediately identified your main concern.

“Is this about the Tianquan assigning you to be her representative for the Fatui?”

The moment those words left his mouth, a growl tore from Xiao’s throat, but he held his tongue.

“Did Ganyu tell you?”

The Archon nodded and you sighed.

“I volunteered, actually.”

And at that point, Xiao vanished into thin hair, but you could still his sense his presence around.

“May I know why?” Zhongli questioned gently.

For a moment, you struggled for words. You didn’t know how to describe this ‘itch’ to him. “At first, it was supposed to be Ganyu, since in the Tianquan’s eyes- Ganyu is an adeptus and she does not know that I am, too. Perhaps she didn’t want to put me in harm’s way, a ‘visionless human’ at the side of a harbinger. After some convincing to Ningguang for my volunteering, I spoke to Ganyu next.

“The adepti are divine beings that walk here in Liyue. I had this feeling that putting a divine next to a power-hungry harbinger would become an issue. I told Ganyu that, since I looked ‘harmless’ and ‘ordinary,’ the harbinger’s interest about the divine would never surface.”

A stretch of silence wrapped around them as Zhongli pondered over your words. “Perhaps, are you also planning to dig out the truth of their arrival?”

You nodded, “I knew you would allow them to stay, so I just took it upon myself to unfurl their secrets.”

“Hmmm… I grant you permission on doing this. However, should trouble arise, do not hesitate to tell us.”

~

The glare pointed at you was strong. Even without him saying a single word, you could hear his phantom voice in your head speak with such coldness, What are you thinking?

You simply gave him a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine, Xiao. I may be a human in mortal eyes, but please do remember that I am also an adeptus, no matter how weak I am.”

Xiao releases a huff, but still sits by your side at the floor of the balcony, letting the moon kiss his skin. “You’re not weak.” He mumbled as he snaked his hand to yours.

To him, you will never be weak. In fact, you were the strongest being he has ever laid his eyes on. Not physically, no. It was you mental and emotional fortitude. Back during the Archon War, he always admired how you kept your head held up high no matter the suffering you have experienced. No matter how much death surrounded you, you still fought. And that strength made you a survivor. During the war, you never failed to help the wounded. Even when someone dies under your care, you held strong for the departed and for those who are left behind. You were a pillar of hope.

He brings your hand to his lips and kisses every knuckle “… Just be careful. If ever you are in trouble do not-“

“Hesitate to call your name.” You finished, beaming at his words.

~

As someone who used to be a healer and a doctor, you were quite familiar with several mild skin diseases that mortals can suffer from.

If there is an itch, you do not scratch it- for you will only aggravate the area even more.

Now that you’re working alongside the Fatui as the Tianquan’s representative, the itch you kept feeling was only irritated more. Especially whenever you spoke with the Harbinger who goes by the name Childe. And since your work requires you to cooperate with him, you also don’t miss the chance to discover what he hides, should the opportunity presents itself.

Childe… his azure eyes certainly have their… charm to those unaware. However, you knew better. You know he’s capable of drowning you just by his eyes. While he may be a cheerful man, his eyes lack the lustre of joy. The eyes are the windows of the soul, yes? If so, all you see is an unending ocean that you do not want to swim in. The surface may be calm, but the deep is relentless. However, duty bound you are- deep within the ocean, you shall find the secrets the Fatui hides.

Again, another scratch to the itch, but it only irritates you more.

~ 

The news of Rex Lapis’s death became the catalyst of you confronting the Harbinger. From Yujeng Terrace all the way to Northland Bank, you ran (with Ningguang’s permission of course). Before you can even open the door to his office, something caught your eye.

It’s faint, but you’re an adeptus. You sensed elemental traces, just smack bang at the middle of the door. You carefully scrutinized the tracings, and fortunately you knew Snezhnayan script. And what you read only made your heart sink.

It’s ready.

With the adeptal arts, you managed to uncover the origins of these elemental tracings.

Scratch.

Without hesitation, you followed these tracings until it led you into some ruins.

Scratch.

Following the tracings further, you find yourself in a dimly lit room. Wary, you summoned your weapon imbued with your element.

Scratch.

Searching the room, you came across several antique boxes. You opened them.

Scratch.

What you saw were familiar. Too familiar. Dimming the room more with your element, you find more Sigils of Permission hanging on the walls and on the ceilings. The energy within them were faint, but with enough numbers, it’s enough to kill a-

“Well, well well, I thought you’d be there mourning for your Archon. But here you are, snooping around someone else’s research material.”

The sound of his voice made you sharply turn your head to him, your stance now more offensive. “What are you planning?” You bit coldly.

The Harbinger hummed a small tune, “Nothing much… But! If you’re really curious, I guess I could tell you.” He hummed some more but you knew he’s not finished. Once he finished his tune, he grinned to you menacingly and the depths in his eyes became even deeper and darker, “After all, I won’t let you leave this place with you knowing my secret~”

~

There was this one time, Xiao struggled against himself so much, he scratched himself red so that he could anchor himself back to the real world. You remembered how much you cried as he slept in your arms. You never wanted to see him do that again. Seeing him hurt himself also hurt you, too. It was like a stab in the heart, then a twist, and twist some more. A slap in the reality that you might lose him one day.

As he slept, you solemnly observed the wounds he sustained himself to. They were angry red, just like blood.

Now, you, yourself scratched that itch in your head too much into a wound for blood to seep through. You scratched too much and now you have to bleed from it.

~

You were slipping in and out of consciousness. Sleep was tempting you more and more but you know you have to wake up. You were aware that this is going on for days.

Everything hurts. You remembered how his blades, imbued with the Sigils, weakened you thoroughly. Every slash he brought to your body just drained the energy away from you. But still you had to do something.

He wanted an adeptus- he wanted an adeptus in order for the Sigils to grow stronger both in number and in power.

Now here you are, bound by chains and suspended at the middle of this empty room. These chains were adorned by talismans that drained away your energy. You were bleeding from your wounds of your previous battle.

Drip. Drip. Drip goes the blood and pools on the ground underneath you. The ground, you barely noticed, was lined by Liyuean script which enacts the ritual of the Sigils draining your divine power from your blood.

To the eyes of a sadist- you were a picture perfect in a canvas. A dark room lined by the damned Sigils, glowing an eerie gold. Then there's you with your bloodied clothes and chains. The red pool underneath was casting a red glow on your way, giving you a red shade to your pale skin.

Everything hurts-

And everything was driving you mad.

You can also feel the Overlord of the Vortex feed from your energy through the Sigils. You sensed his lust for power and revenge. You felt his anger and the corruption within him. You felt his hatred and his want to bring death. For days that felt like years, you’ve been battling against that very same god in your head. This battle was not something you shall not lose to and failure is not an option. If you fail here, then Liyue will fall. 

This god- he was driving you mad slowly.

If ever you are in trouble, do not hesitate to call my-

You shut the thought from your head. You are not going to call him. You will not speak of him. You will not think of him. You will not call him. Not to this place where his corruption will grow. No. You Will Not Call Him.

If it means that me not calling you will keep you safe from the corrupted remnant of a god- so be it. 

Please

However, no matter how much you denied yourself to call his name, no matter how much your heart yearns to be with him- the wind does not ignore the pained sob that left your lips.

~

Ever since the news of Rex Lapis's death and the visit of the Traveler with a Sigil in his hand- the corruption within him just bloomed into something feral.

The Sigil- there was something wrong about it but Xiao doesn't know what is it that is wrong. Then there's you- where are you? Surely with the news of their Archon's death- it would send you to bring forth a meeting for the adepti to talk this over. But now- for days- you remain not by his side.

With you missing- the demons inside him are slowly taking control over him, taking advantage of his vulnerability for you. For each passing day, it was slow torture for him- The worry bubbling in him was consuming him. He glared at the Sigil between his fingers and not failing to notice how his dark aura covers him once more. 

“Traveler,” Xiao called sharply, “What is it you intend to do next?” 

To any mere mortal, the look his eyes held were enough to strike fear, but the Traveler stealed themselves- meeting the adeptus’s gaze with an equally serious calm. “I have my suspicions on a certain harbinger and I-”

“Where?” The Yaksha growled.

“In the Golden House.”

Without a word nor warning, Xiao placed a hand on the Traveler’s shoulder and teleported them to the place where the Exuvia is hidden.

To the Traveler, everything happened so quickly as one event led to another. One moment, they were standing among unconscious bodies of the Millelith then the next thing they knew a corrupted and demonic gust of wind flew them away to the side. Regaining back their vision, they could see Alatus’s spear now at Tartaglia’s barrier made of Sigils. 

Alatus narrowed his eyes at the floating talismans and began to calculate the flow of this incoming battle with precision and accuracy despite his losing control over himself. 

It was a tense minute of sizing each other up, but eventually, Tartaglia has broken the silence with his annoying innocent voice. 

“Who would have thought that I’d have the honor of fighting another adeptus of Liyue?” 

The question immediately fed the corruption within him, the dark aura exploding at it. He knew that he should not believe in the Harbinger’s words so easily, but the glint in the latter’s eyes held truth. You could be out there, hurting, scared, alone. You could be out there, bleeding out. You could be out there dyi-

His aura exploded once more at the thoughts spreading in his being. With a burst of unspeakable power, Alatus lifted his weapon and pierced the barrier once more, this time breaking it without failure. At the threat, Tartaglia backed away as he donned his mask.

In a similar fashion, Alatus, too donned his mask. “I will ask you once,” the Conqueror of Demons spoke with a deathly calm, “Where is she?”

~

He should have killed him then and there. But the call of the Overlord of the Vortex must not be ignored as it threatens Liyue. 

In the small opportunity of escape, Childe took it. But he was weak and injured as Alatus swiftly threw his spear to block his way and teleported right in front of him. In a show of power, the Conqueror of Demons lifted the mortal by the neck.

“I will ask you again, where is she?”

In fear, Childe told him everything and at his every word, Xiao listened carefully- never speaking once. But the anger within his heart, it boils- it rages. His amber eyes bored into Childe’s soul- thinking what he should do to this mortal. Oh how killing him would be so nice. However, when the Yaksha’s gaze landed on the regal form of the Exuvia, he merely threw the mortal in its way.

“Killing you would have been easier. However, the crimes you have presented against Liyue are not mine for me to judge.

I leave the Harbinger to you... Rex Lapis.”

Once out of the Golden House, the Overlord roared once more, shaking the lands of the nation. However, along with it, he heard the faintest of voices. I’m so sorry... I couldn’t hold him back anymore. 

Only then did the demons in his heart freely took control of him. Just like the stories of old, where the Yaksha walks, death follows. But they were no stories. In his way towards the ruins where you were held captive, every step he took brought carnage and even more death and blood to taint his hands. No Fatui will leave this place alive. The very being of destruction ended many lives. Each death, the demons were growing stronger.

All he wanted now was to kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill killkillkill killkill kill killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill

Then seeing you suspended in the ceiling and bound by chains. Blood was painted on your lifeless skin. Wounds were littered and bruises were blooming on your form. But most of all, your eyes. What were once full of life and hope- now empty and blank. His demons quieted down.

Broken. You were like a broken porcelain doll.

“N-name...” His voice cracked, not believing it all.

With haste, he quickly broke your binds and caught you in his arms. he was fast to check for your pulse and your breathing. And thank the Archons, you were breathing but barely. You were now walking the line between life and death. With all his might yet a gentle caress, he hugged you for dear life. “Name... It’s me...”

But still, your eyes still held no recognition and it shattered his heart to pieces. With further inspection, he sensed the presence within you. A corruption. A certain evil. 

“Name, stay with me please,” Xiao begged with desperation as he fought back tears. “It’s me who supposed to be the corrupted one between us, not you... I’m not allowing you to leave me, you hear me-”

With a ritual of the adeptal arts, he started purging and purifying the evil left by the god who fed from you. He is not letting you stay alone in your prison, not for a second longer. 

Xiao prays and he never prayed before. Even to his master. But just this once, He prays with desperation. You are the light in his darkness. You are the moon in his night. 

The ritual was a delicate process. For every word he spoke, he was rewarded by your screams of pain and the writhing of your fragile body. He wanted to stop, but he can’t. He had to physically restrain you from trying to escape from his embrace and from hurting yourself. And for every cry you released, Xiao merely shuts his eyes clos just for him not to see your pained eyes. Every now and then, Xiao speaks gentle apologies and words of encouragement for you. You were coming back. But still, the evil persists.

You writhed and scratched against him, until you were creating more wounds for blood to seep through. When it came to a point, you began pleading and begging for him to stop, that was when Xiao had shed a tear. So he continues the ritual, his prayers, and his apologies. They were arriving to a point where the ritual is reaching its conclusion but your screams only grew louder.

Please, just a little more...

Please, just stop...

Please...

The corruption disintegrated away from you in a forceful release of dark energy. He was breathing deeply, attempting to calm his loud heart. When he placed his gaze on you, you were breathing rapidly and your eyes were searching blindly and your hands were desperately holding onto him.

“X-Xiao...” You whispered, “Where am I? Where are you?”

With a sigh of relief, the Yaksha hugged you again closer and his forehead to yours, fearing you would go away again. The action made you lift your hands to his face, still searching blindly.

“I’m here, Name... I’m here.” At his voice, the dam in your eyes broke as you cried silently. Xiao was not adept in emotions, but for you, he will face them gladly. He lets you cry as he gives you soft whispers of assurance, safety, love, and promises. However, you were not crying because of what had happened to you. You were crying for him. After experiencing such corruption-

You sobbed some more- you were this close to him losing you and you could not bring yourself to imagine if your roles were reversed.

“P-please,” you said with a broken voice, “please don’t go to the place where I can’t follow...’

The words, at first puzzled him, but after a few moments, he realized and once more it broke his heart. Bringing you closer, Xiao let loose the tears he was holding back. With a gentleness unexpected of the Conqueror, he simply littered your face with kisses. “I promise if only you would do the same.”

With your smile that he loved dearly for so long you too spoke your promise, “I do.” They were simply two words, but the comfort they bring into the Yaksha’s heart was in volumes.

After that, you shared a few tender moments in each other’s arms. Simply relishing the feeling of their familiar warmth. A little later, Xiao spoke, “Would you like to eat some Almond Tofu once we get home?”

The question made you giggle at his innocence, so you agreed. Despite you needing physical medical attention. But Almond Tofu with him? Yes, you two definitely need some emotional healing.

A/N: fINALLY dONE lmao this was supposed to be short but angst really makes me want to write longer everytime haha~ anyway this request really made me ponder bout genshin stuff with all the corruption this and corruption that but then a question popped up like-

how did childe replicate the sigil of permission? since sigils are imbued with divine energy, i just thought how did this guy accumulate so much sigils to the point of freeing Osial- a god!!! soooo i just played with the idea for a bit then figured out maybe these pieces of paper get the divine energy from a divine source right? and the adepti are divine beings of liyue and another thing- you guys might have noticed the change of names in some scenes- i dont know but i think somehow different names represents different side of a person like- we have childe the cheerful harbinger then tartaglia the power hungry harbinger- there’s Alatus who’s calculating and cold, there’s the Conqueror of Demons who’s ruthless and unforgiving, then Xiao who is calm and humane- lastlyyyyy i might post this in ao3 ksks

[breynekai-tfc]

Number One Fan

Summary:   Danny is injured during a ghost fight one night. Dash finds him, takes him home, and nurses him back to health. 

Length:  7081 words

Part 2

Basically some meandering interactions between Dash and Phantom, with hints toward a one-sided attraction on Dash’s part.  This is a two-shot; the second half will be up tomorrow.  

Read on FF.net, AO3, or keep reading below. 

He sucked up the puddle of arachnid into a Fenton Thermos. Holes littered the lawn around him where its feet had sunk into the spring soil, muddy and loose from three days’ worth of constant drizzle. ‘British weather’, his mom would have called it. Even now a light mist - heavier than fog but not substantial enough to be called rain - floated through the air. It had already coated Danny’s hair, face, and suit in a thin layer of condensation. The water ran over his face like sweat.

He was exhausted. If he had needed to breathe, he would have been panting. If he’d had a pulse, it would have been racing. Instead, his core ached dully, complaining of the expenditure of energy. His aura was not as bright as it should have been on this dark, misty, overcast night. Normally he would have been a beacon; right now he probably blended into his surroundings, giving off no more light than a will-o-the-wisp in a murky swamp.

And still, it wasn’t over.

After defeating a ghost and containing it in a Thermos, any ectoplasmic waste or byproducts it left behind should disintegrate and vanish. The Thermos completely sealed ectoenergy, thereby cutting off the core from any parts remaining in the world. But the Amity Park Public Library was still covered in a purple, pulsing tent of ghostly webbing.

Geez, he hoped there wasn’t another one.

Danny eyed the building. He wasn’t sure how long it had been sequestered like this. Presumably not much longer than it had taken for his ghost sense to explode out of his cold core, jolting him awake, and for him to race in the direction it pointed him. Five minutes later, he had discovered the library and the Godzilla-scale spider crouching on top of it.

He had no idea what time it was. He hadn’t checked the clock before flying off into the night.

It had been about eleven when he wrapped up his patrol earlier - a patrol which, ironically, had been entirely quiet. Goes to show what happens when you skimp on security duties because of bad weather, some mild discomfort from having to fly through a neverending curtain of damp. He wondered if he had stayed out a little longer if he could have intercepted the spider before it nested. Ghosts often tended to get a lot stronger when they were allowed to accomplish their objectives, drawing energy from the sheer satisfaction of fulfilling an obsession. Who knew how long it had been working before its sudden power boost triggered Danny’s ghost sense?

Danny squinted through the drizzle at the cloud cover, barely making out the position of the moon. Maybe three o’clock or after? He wasn’t sure how long it had taken him to beat the hairy, eight-legged behemoth. The fight had been tedious and drained his strength, but in all likelihood was shorter than it had felt.

He wasn’t sure he had actually defeated it.

His core twinging, he forced himself back into the air and drifted across the ruined lawn, across the parking lot, and to the side of the building. A feeling of unease filled him as he drew closer, the product of psychological wards woven into the strands of spider silk to scare away predators. Ignoring the way his core clenched and his skin crawled, Danny grit his teeth, turned intangible, and phased through the protective layer of webbing.

Inside, the dread atmosphere was even more overwhelming, hanging in the air like a miasma. Webbing draped over every surface and hung from the ceiling in loops and clumps, glowing a sickly shade of violet. It provided the only light in the building, and Danny’s own silver aura barely reflected back to him.

After nearly three years of being dead and fighting ghosts on a daily basis, Danny was rarely unnerved by the things he saw. But this was spooky, even to him. He shrugged and shook out his shoulders and arms, chalking up his feelings of trepidation to basic survival instincts, which were good things. He was tired, and his body knew it, and it was just sending signals to his brain to be careful. This was not actually all that frightening. Nope. Not frightening at all.

Danny floated further into the building, senses on high alert. The webbing stretched on and on, but nowhere did Danny see a creature who could have spun it. This was surely the work of the larger arachnid he had fought outside… right?

Danny reached the central help desk. It was a small unit of furniture - a U-shaped table, return bin, filing cabinets, and several computers with the library catalog system, all sitting in the middle of a wide and open space of carpet at the hub of the fiction and reference shelves. As Danny drifted towards it, he was so focused on looking and listening for an enemy on all sides that he floated straight into a web. Unlike the thick, goopy strands coating the rest of the building, this was a delicately woven oval suspended between the floor and ceiling. The kind of webs spiders built for catching prey.

He yelped and flung himself backwards, but the web followed him, snared him, snapped back into place with Danny still firmly attached to it. The webbing clung to his face, filling his eyes with violet light, inciting panic. He pulled at his arms, frantic to wipe the strands from his face, get them off of his body, but nothing was moving, he couldn’t budge, he was stuck, like a fly, and what did spiders do to flies…?

The realization of his own stupidity struck him like a slap in the face, and a split second later, he was intangible and shooting backwards, arms pinwheeling as he forced himself to a mid-air stop - before he blindly landed himself in a similar trap, or before he decided to phase through the roof of the building, call it a night, let another ghost hunter deal with this.

He wasn’t allowed to do that.

The leaden weights of responsibility wrapped around his body, draining the blind panic and replacing it with lucid determination. If Valerie or his parents were hurt because of some mess he failed to resolve, if one of them died, he would never be able to forgive himself, would never be able to claim the mantle of hero for the rest of his half-life. That reality was much more frightening than anything a ghost could throw at him.

As he centered himself, Danny noticed that the web he had just extracted himself from was vibrating, humming tautly, shivering from floor to ceiling. His eyes followed the anchoring strands of the web upwards. He groaned, and everything suddenly made sense.

On the ceiling, stretching from one wall to another and looking like a scene out of Femalien, were eggs, a hundred of them, violent purple and struck through by glowing green fissures like ichor. The spider he had faced outside of the library must have been their mother, and her objective had been finding a safe place to nest and lay her eggs. Having accomplished that, she was at her most ferocious when a certain human-ghost hybrid had shown up to threaten her children.

Danny had vaguely known that ghosts could reproduce - how else could he explain Box Lunch? But if this was seeing the miracle of ghost life in action, it was nothing he ever wished to see again.

The trembles from the web rippled through the eggs on the high ceiling of the library. First in the middle, expanding outwards in waves, the eggs began to wobble, began to crack with sharp snaps of verdant light. As he watched the first legs begin to poke through purple membranes, Danny realized why the oval-shaped web had been created. It would trap prey, and in thrashing for escape, whatever unfortunate creature (or person) was snared in the web would be ringing a dinner bell, telling the babies that it was time to wake up and have some breakfast.

The first of the brood had breached their cells and were dropping onto the floor. Deep black in color, struck through by ectoplasmic green striations, they were the size of large dogs, and they were fast. As soon as their myriad eyes found Danny, they began to leap at him.

Crying out, Danny flung up an ectoplasmic energy shield. The newborn spiders slammed into it, causing the shield to flare and for Danny’s core to tighten painfully. The shield broke within seconds, and the rush of arachnids slammed into him, knocking him to the floor.

Danny saw legs, flashes of black eyes with verdance burning deep within, and then pain like acid burst against his right shoulder, his stomach, his left leg. He screamed, feeling the bright acidic energy flowing into him, burning him from the inside as it bloomed across and underneath his skin. Distantly, he felt something soft drifting over him, light as snowfall but as firm as steel cables. It crossed his bleary vision, sickly purple.

The weights on his chest, his arms, his legs, were abruptly flung off of him. He was left staring at the ceiling, where spiders continued to crack their eggs and fall to the ground, but he could hear their hissing voices, impacts, sounds of tearing, squeals of pain, splashes of ectoplasm on carpet. The spider brood was fighting. Apparently there wasn’t enough of him to go around.

Danny could not move. His thoughts were blasted with hot green pain, eating through his limbs and leaving cold numbness in its wake. He knew he had been bitten, repeatedly. This was poison. His enemies were fighting for the chance to devour him. And he could not move.

The deadly, acidic pain trickled down from his shoulder and up from his stomach and danced around his core, which stubbornly burned it away. If not his body, at least his essence was refusing to go down without a fight.

The realization that he was going to die, really die, eaten alive and entirely helpless to do anything about it, galvanized him. He grunted, a strangled sound from deep in his chest. Then Danny pushed at his core. He had no confidence that he would be able to move his limbs to do a damned thing, but if his core was fighting, he would use it as his best asset. He concentrated on it with a singular intensity, blocking out the squall of the hungry spiders, blocking out his pain, willing his core to expand, explode if it needed to.

A different but familiar type of cold rushed through him. A split-second later, a blizzard burst from his awakened cold core, howling through the room and freezing everything in its path. It hit the walls and ceiling and windows, shrieking, and died away. In its wake - silence, like a winter’s night under a blanket of snow.

Icy energy crackled over his skin, momentarily halting the spread of the venom. Danny wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, succumb to the cold numbness of poison and frost. But the spiders weren’t gone, and the next prey they sought would be outside of the library with no weapons to defend themselves. This was a horde that could kill a town. Danny had to protect them.

With a Herculean effort, Danny sat up. The webbing laced over his body crackled and splintered to pieces. The room around him had been transformed into a glimpse of a modern-day Ice Age. Thick, supernaturally blue ice coated the library’s every surface, the spiders and their webs only barely visible in its bright but murky depths. Danny concentrated on moving his right hand, but it was entirely numb and dead to him. He switched to his left, fumbling for the Thermos that hung on his right side. He pulled the strap across his chest until the Thermos was sitting in his lap, wedged between his thighs for support. He unscrewed the lid, lifted it with one hand, braced it against his chest, and hit the button.

Blue light swirled from the softly whirring device, but with no target in its path, it simply dissipated into the air. Frowning, Danny channeled some of his own depleted power into the Thermos to influence its behavior. The light began to do what he wanted. It condensed above the checkout desk in a bright orb. Like a black hole, it began to absorb the ectoplasmic energy around it. Ice, webbing, spiders, everything ghostly in the room began cracking apart and flying into the focal point of the power, which in turn compacted and channeled the energy into the containment device. Danny felt it tugging on even him, but because of the nature of the energy fueling it, he was not swept up in the maelstrom of deconstruction.

No more than a minute later, the room was cleared. Danny snapped the lid back on the Thermos, and everything went dark. Without the ice or webbing, there was little to illuminate the library. After a few seconds, as his eyes adjusted, the room clarified under the soft orange glow of the street lamps outside.

Danny’s core felt like stretched taffy, or a threadbare cloth. It felt like if he were to exert any more pressure on it, it would snap or implode in on itself. Danny was surprised he hadn’t reverted to his human form yet.

He glanced down at himself. He couldn’t see the bite on his shoulder, but he could see the ones on his abdomen and his left leg. Four punctures, holes left in his jumpsuit, roughly the size of nickels. They oozed something green, which Danny might have mistaken for his own ectoplasm if not for the fetid feeling the ooze gave off. Danny wasn’t sure what the poison would do to him, if it was meant to paralyze him or kill him or turn his insides into goo. Already it was fighting his cold core to continue its inextricable path through his body.

A certainty settled over Danny, based on no evidence but his own gut feelings: if he returned to human form, with this poison coursing through him, it would be the end of him.

Sick with dread, Danny fell forward, planting his left arm against the floor, dragging his right leg underneath him, pushing to standing. He nearly toppled over again. His left leg from the knee down was numb, and it barely supported his weight. Danny only managed to walk by rocking onto it and back to his right leg before his knee had the chance to buckle. He did not dare fly.

Danny reached the door and opened it by hand. The webbing that had covered the building earlier was gone, destroyed with the capture of the spider brood. Dazed, Danny hobbled into the parking lot and across the lawn.

He had to get home to Fentonworks. His parents would have something in their lab that could get him through this, preserve his ghost half long enough for it to fight off the poison. Maybe, if he gave himself an injection of purified ectoplasm it would bolster the energy in his core, or maybe he could just toss himself into the Ghost Zone and absorb the atmospheric ectoenergy there.

He had to get home.

He had to walk there.

How many miles was it?

Danny stumbled down the sidewalk in a haze of existential terror and pain. The poison had begun to sludge through him again, climbing his thigh, spreading across his back, filling his chest. He began to feel light-headed, and the edges of his vision were filling with shadows. His feet jerked him forward numbly, but he had no perception of actually moving.

His left knee buckled, and Danny fell to the ground. He tried to catch himself with his hands, but they didn’t respond to the commands from his brain. His chin throbbed dully where it hit concrete.

Danny lay with his chest against the ground, arms limp at his sides, face turned toward the grass. Moisture pooled in his eyes and trickled out of the corners. If he’d had the energy for it, he might have been sobbing. But his upper body was numb, and so was most of the rest of him. Cotton wrapped around his head.

He was dimly aware of sounds: the crunch of tires over asphalt, the slamming of a car door, a shout. His body was turned over, presumably by a person. Danny’s vision was too full of shadows to see who it was.

After that, there was nothing.

---------

Dash had woken to the sound of his PhanClub Ghost Spotters app shouting, “I am the Box Ghost! Beware!”

Blearily, he grabbed his phone off the bedside table and swiped to unlock it. His eyes scanned the notification, picking out key words: public library, giant spider, literally it’s as big as a house, level 5 apparition or higher. It was 2:36 a.m.

Dash groaned, letting the hand holding his phone drop onto the mattress next to his pillow. He was too tired to deal with a fucking ghost spider halfway across town. He had school tomorrow, and besides that, it was a fucking ghost spider. He had no plans of being eaten.

He was nearly back to sleep when his phone nagged him again. “I am the Box Ghost! Beware!” Against his better judgement, Dash brought the screen back up.

2:41 - Phantom is engaging the spider. #IRememberEmber58

And like that, he was wide awake, sitting up in bed and staring at the notification.

It was a long shot. It would take him about fifteen minutes to get to the library, not including the time it took for him to get dressed, sneak downstairs to his car, and actually hit the road. There was a chance Phantom would be long gone by the time he got there.

But…

He was already moving, pulling on sweats and a hoodie, cramming his feet into sneakers that already had the laces tied.

But a level 5 apparition was tough, and a spider the size of a house was a new enemy. It might put up a real fight. If Dash got there in time, he would not only be able to catch a glimpse of his hero in action, but he would also be able to get some new material for his scrapbook. Grabbing his Fenton Camera (the only camera on the market with film and lenses specifically designed to capture ectoplasmic radiation), Dash crept out of his room.

His parents were heavy sleepers. Besides, he was seventeen, and the probability of him getting in trouble for going out at night was extremely low, even if he was caught. As long as he was on track for his scholarship, his parents hardly cared what he did. But Dash was still careful to move quietly through the house. Encountering his folks would waste precious time.

Shortly, he was out the front door, crossing the driveway to the curb, and climbing into his black convertible - top up, because of the absolute crap weather lately. He turned the key in the ignition, put it into gear, and sped out into the silent streets of Amity Park.

In the two and a half years since the PhanClub had been founded, many members had joined, and many of them had since become inactive. Everyone in town - except the Fentons and a few other diehards - had accepted that Phantom was a bona fide hero. No one had abandoned him in that sense. But after two and a half years of seeing Phantom kick ghost butt around town, the ghostly hero had lost his novelty for a lot of people, who then moved onto other things. There were very few members left who, like Dash, were willing to hop out of bed in the middle of the night to drive to ghost fights and take pictures. Most members had either muted their nighttime notifications or gotten rid of the Ghost Spotters app entirely.

Dash considered himself Phantom’s number one fan. He wore the badge with pride and contested it with anyone who tried to claim it (though very few bothered anymore). Sure, there were others on the Ghost Spotters app, like IRememberEmber58, who posted every ghostly encounter they came across, but these guys were “ghostakus” - they were in it for the ghosts, all ghosts, any ghosts. Some Ghost Spotters even supported the local bad guys. Ghosts like Ember, Technus, even the freaking Box Ghost had fans, and many Ghost Spotters would take bets on ghost fights, not over who would win - that was always Phantom - but how long their favorite ghost could escape the Fenton Thermos.

There was even a trading card game… okay, Dash collected those, too. They were pretty cool.

But for Dash, there was only one reason to be in the Ghost Spotters, and that was to be alerted of every appearance of Danny Phantom possible. Watching Phantom in action, risking his life to selflessly protect the people of Amity Park, displaying awesome feats of power, and doing it all with a good sense of humor - it never got old, and Dash didn’t think it ever would.

Dash drove to the library at however many miles over the speed limit he could get away with. Every few minutes, the Ghost Spotters app would light up with a new notification. Dash grabbed his phone and glanced at them:

2:50 - Spider is down. I repeat, spider is down. #IRememberEmber58

2:51 - Vestigial ghost matter on library not disappearing. Phantom looks wary. #IRememberEmber58

2:52 - Phantom entering library. Ghost fight part deux? #IRememberEmber58

2:58 - Webbing on library vanished. May be over people. #IRememberEmber58

Dash growled. He was so close, but it looked like this was going to be a waste of time after all.

At last, the public library rose in Dash’s sight down the road. Like IRememberEmber58 had indicated, everything seemed quiet. Dash figured he ought to drive by anyway, see the damage, maybe catch a glimpse of Phantom flying away, make sure this wasn’t a complete fucking waste of time.

As he pulled up along the eastern side of the library, Dash’s phone went off one more time.

3:01 - Phantom emerging from library - on foot? Probability of injury high. #IRememberEmber58

Dash blinked at the notification. He took his foot off of the pedals, letting his car cruise slowly down the road, all while he squinted through the damp on his windshield towards the front of the library.

There. At the end of the parking lot, cutting across the grass toward the sidewalk a few hundred feet down the road from Dash’s car. Phantom’s aura was so weak that he barely stood out from his misty surroundings. He was limping, on the ground - the actual ground. Dash could see that his right arm was hanging at his side like dead weight and that his head was down, like all of his attention was on putting one foot in front of the other.

This was not good.

Fear wound its cold fingers around Dash’s heart and squeezed. Dash had never seen his hero in such bad shape; even when he lost battles, it was because the other ghost would get away, not because they actually defeated him in combat. Nervous, unsure of what he should be doing, Dash let his car keep coasting down the road so that he could follow Phantom, make sure he got to where he was going okay.

Phantom reached the sidewalk, Dash following a few yards behind. The ghost’s steps were slowing, and he was not walking in a straight line.

All of a sudden, one of Phantom’s knees gave out and he fell over face-first onto the ground.

He did not get up again.

“Shit!” said Dash. His foot slammed down on the accelerator, and his car leaped forward before he managed to slam his foot on the brake. He was out of his car a second later, running around the front of it, falling onto his knees by Phantom’s head.

“Phantom!” he cried out. “Hey man, are you okay?”

Phantom did not respond, did not move. He lay on the wet sidewalk in front of Dash completely inert, damp hair hanging over the half of his face that was turned upward. A Fenton Thermos, strapped over his left shoulder, lay in the small of his back, its indicator pulsing red.

Dash brought up his hands, and they hung in the air over Phantom’s back, shaking. He was hesitant to reach out and touch his idol. He had not been this close to Phantom since the time at Fentonworks back in his freshman year, when they had both been shrunk by some loony Fenton invention and had to fight Skulker to get back to their normal sizes. A true team-up, and Phantom hadn’t spoken to him since. Instead, Phantom had gone on to become even more powerful, defeating huge and impossible foes, rising to a place Dash could never hope to be, probably forgetting all about Dash in the process. Dash didn’t deserve to be this close to Phantom, not anymore.

But Phantom was in trouble, and Dash was all the help he had. It looked like, after two whole years, it was time for another team-up.

As Dash grabbed Phantom’s rain-slick, icy-cold shoulders to turn him over, he did not feel excited about the prospect at all; rather, he felt sick to his stomach.

Phantom weighed basically nothing. It was the easiest thing in the world to roll him onto his back, and Dash half-expected the ghost to dissolve into nothing in his fingers. Once he was on his back, Phantom’s head lolled against Dash’s knees. His eyes were open, dull green rather than the bright, vivid neon they should have been, staring blankly ahead at nothing. Dash saw trails of some silvery moisture coming out of the corners of his eyes, mingling with the rain, and he realized that they were ectoplasmic tears.

“Phantom…?” he whispered. Phantom did nothing to indicate he had heard Dash. The muscles in his face hung slack, and he wasn’t breathing - shit, he wasn’t breathing! But did ghosts even need to breathe? Did they even have lungs?

Could they die?

“Calm the fuck down, Baxter,” he told himself. “He’s not dead. He can’t be. He’s just hurt bad, real bad.” He glanced over Phantom’s body, looking for the injury that had put his hero in such a terrible state. What he saw were six small holes in his jumpsuit, in pairs, two on his right shoulder, two on his stomach, two on his lower left leg, all oozing a sickly green substance. Now that he looked more closely, Dash noticed veins of the same color, branching under the skin on Phantom’s neck where it rose out of the collar of his jumpsuit, curling over his jawline towards his cheeks like emerald lightning bolts.

“What the…” Dash murmured. Then it hit him. Phantom had been fighting a spider. These were spider bites.

Without thinking, Dash reached out his right hand and touched the green stuff oozing from Phantom’s shoulder, just above his collarbone. Immediately he recoiled - it felt like it had stung him! And it kept stinging him, burning him as if he had stuck his fingers into a vat of acid. Dash stared at his fingers in horror. His forefinger and middle finger had two small drops of venom on their tips, and even as he watched, it absorbed into his skin, snaking down through his fingers in bright green lightning bolts of poison.

Dash screamed, kicking away from Phantom, staring at his burning hand. The venom crept down his fingers, into his palm, where finally the green veins tapered to nothing. The sensation of burning sunk into a deep cold, and then into complete numbness. Dash tried to move his fingers; his thumb, ring finger, and pinkie only twitched, and the two that had touched the poison would not respond at all. The muscles in his wrist and at the base of his thumb ached dully. Turning his hand over, Dash saw more lightning bolts pulsing on the back of his hand.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” What had just happened? What was he supposed to do with this?

His eyes were back on Phantom. Whatever had just gotten on Dash’s fingertips, Phantom was full of it. No wonder he wasn’t moving. The dude needed help.

Dash clambered back to his feet, careful of his right hand. He opened the back door of his car, then turned around and, with extreme caution to avoid touching the spider venom again, lifted Phantom into his arms. One arm under the ghost’s knees, one under his back, Dash carried Phantom to his car and gently laid him in the backseat. The weakness of Phantom’s aura was even more apparent in the darkness inside the car.

Dash slammed the door shut and climbed back into the driver’s seat. His Ghost Spotter’s app went off again. Thinking that there might be another ghost around, Dash checked the message and scowled.

3:08 - Phantom abducted by strange black vehicle. Probably the feds. Good luck, ghost boy. #IRememberEmber58

Dash had no clue where IRememberEmber58 was watching the library from. Regardless, he rolled down the window, stuck his hand out, and flipped the dweeb off.

Dash put his right hand over the gearshift but could not clutch it to put the car in drive. Awkwardly, he used his left hand to shift gears. Driving home, his right hand was hooked in the steering wheel at the wrist to help in steering as much as possible. He sure hoped the numbness wasn’t permanent. That was his throwing hand.

On the way back to his house - and was that really the best place to take Phantom but he couldn’t go to a hospital and the Fentons wanted to gut him so screw it Dash’s house was as good a place as any - Dash kept an eye on Phantom in the back seat. There was no outward change in his condition, which could have been good or bad for all Dash knew. The green venom leaking from the bites and glowing under his skin was the brightest thing about the ghost, who could almost be mistaken for human at this point.

Dash speeded all the way home, and it still took too long. As soon as his car was on the curb, Dash cut the engine, leapt out of the vehicle, and got Phantom out of the backseat. He ran with the ghost, who couldn’t have weighed more than twenty pounds, up the driveway to the front door. Dash had to shift Phantom, drape him on his stomach over Dash’s shoulder, so that he could get his key out and get the door open. Once they were inside, Dash carried Phantom up the stairs, praying to God that his parents didn’t choose now to wake up.

At the top of the stairs, Dash began to feel a biting pain in his right shoulder, underneath where Phantom was laying on top of him. Clenching his teeth against an expletive, Dash hurried down the hall, into his bedroom, to the bathroom attachment. He shut the door, turned on the light, and hurriedly deposited Phantom in the bathtub. Stepping back to the counter, Dash looked in the mirror and was horrified to see that some of the venom from Phantom’s stomach had seeped into his hoodie. Crying out, he frantically yanked the hoodie off and threw it into the corner.

Turning back to the mirror, Dash watched three small fireworks of ectoplasmic venom sparking across his right shoulder. The bitter cold sensation sank deep into his muscles, and by the time the numbness set in, Dash was not surprised to find that he couldn’t lift his arm. With his hand already out of commission, the only thing he could do was bend his arm, weakly, at the elbow.

Dash gripped the countertop with his left hand and leaned forward until his forehead was resting on the cool surface of the mirror. Things were fucked, and he knew it. His hero was laying in his bathtub, possibly dead. Dash himself had been poisoned by a giant ectoplasmic spider he hadn’t even seen, and who knew what kind of messed up shit this was going to do to him?

He had no idea how to help either of them. He was just Dash Baxter, high school quarterback. He wasn’t smart enough to be useful to anyone in an emergency, not even himself.

He forced himself to take several deep breaths. He reminded himself that he might not have been the best help for Phantom, but he was the only help the hero had. Dash had to do something. For all the times Phantom had saved his life and the lives of everyone in Amity Park, he had to do something.

Not looking at Phantom - not yet - Dash went back into his bedroom. He dug around in his closet until he found the lime green raincoat his grandma had bought for him on his last birthday, which was so ugly that he had never worn it. Awkwardly, he shrugged it on, using his left hand to grab his right and drag the right arm into a sleeve. Then he went back downstairs into the kitchen, where he grabbed a pair of rubber gloves from under the sink that his mom used to wash dishes. He hoped that this would be enough.

Back upstairs in the bathroom, wearing the raincoat and rubber gloves, Dash finally looked at Phantom in the tub. The ghost looked even worse under the bright LED lighting. His glow was essentially nonexistent, his normally tanned complexion was sallow, and his dulled green eyes continued to stare into nothingness. Phantom’s white hair was plastered to his head with the moisture from outside, and his suit was wet with water and smears of toxic venom.

Dash had to get the venom out of Phantom. The question was - how?

Dash sat down cautiously on the edge of the tub. With his left hand, he pushed Phantom into a more comfortable position, sitting propped against one end of the basin. He grabbed the strap of the Fenton Thermos and pulled it over Phantom’s head before setting the surprisingly heavy contraption on the floor behind the toilet; Dash knew what was inside, and he wasn’t about to unleash a house-sized spider monster because he accidentally kicked the thing.

Turning back to Phantom, he experimentally touched some of the venom on Phantom’s leg with his glove, half expecting the ectoplasm to eat through the material. It didn’t, and Dash heaved a sigh of relief.

Using his left hand, Dash tried pinching the skin and muscles of Phantom’s shoulder to squeeze some of the poison out, but between the rubber of his glove and the slick material of Phantom’s jumpsuit, it was impossible to get a hold. Really, the jumpsuit needed to go.

Dash flushed red at the thought. Was he really sitting here, thinking about undressing his hero…? His eyes found the little zipper at the top of the neck, and Dash gulped. A second later, he was berating himself. “You’re being an idiot. Just take the damn suit off so you can help him.” He reached out, grabbed the zipper, and pulled.

Dash soon discovered it was a chore and a half to use one hand to undress another guy who was completely limp, and any excitement he might have felt at the task quickly evaporated. It was several minutes before Dash had Phantom out of his gloves, boots, and jumpsuit, which he piled in a heap on the floor next to the tub, leaving Phantom in nothing but his white undies.

Like the patterning on Phantom’s neck, the rest of his body was covered in zigzagging bolts of pulsing emerald poison, especially concentrated around the three weeping bite wounds. Dash felt sick looking at it, and he hoped Phantom wasn’t conscious underneath that blank expression.

Dash turned on the bathtub faucet and ran the water until it was lukewarm. Phantom showed no reaction to the liquid sloshing around his legs, but Dash had not expected him to. Dash figured room temperature was the best bet - he didn’t want to burn the ghost, but he didn’t think cold water would be good for someone with spider bites, even if ghosts were naturally cold. Thinking about that, Dash rinsed his left glove in the faucet and then used his teeth to tug it off of his hand. He then laid the back of his hand against Phantom’s forehead.

It was warm. Human warm. Dash had been grabbed by enough ghosts in his life to know that Phantom should have felt as cool as the inside of a freezer. Phantom’s heat now must have been the ghostly equivalent of a fever.

On second thought, Dash cut the heat to the faucet entirely.

He used his teeth to pull his glove back on, grabbed a clean towel from under the sink, took down the showerhead, and turned the hose on. Dash used the showerhead to rinse the globs of venom from Phantom’s wounds. Then he set the hose down near the drain and began pinching the punctures, starting with the ones on Phantom’s shoulder. Venom ran from them freely, running in viscous rivulets over Phantom’s chest. Dash stopped every few seconds to hose Phantom off, sending the toxic - probably radioactive - ectoplasm down the drain to be carried far away from the Baxter home.

Dash pushed against the wound until he was sure Phantom would have bruises, and it kept offering him venom. It was not until several minutes later when the green liquid oozing from the wound lost its visceral feeling of venom and turned into a much more neutral shade of green. It was the strangest thing. The two types of ectoplasm - the spider venom and Phantom’s ‘blood’ - were almost identical to the naked eye. Dash only knew that the venom had turned to ectoplasmic lifeblood when his gut stopped screaming at him about the wrongness of the liquid he was seeing.

Dash repeated this process on the other two punctures. By the time he finished, Dash noticed that some of the bolts of venom across Phantom’s skin had begun to lose their intensity. That was good. Dash had actually been able to do something.

He rinsed Phantom off one last time from head to feet and then turned off the water. Dash patted Phantom dry the best he could considering the ghost was sitting in a damp tub in soaked underwear. Tossing aside the towel with the rest of the discarded clothing, Dash bent down, slid his left arm under Phantom’s back, managed to hook his right arm under the ghost’s legs, and lifted him out of the tub. He was thankful that Phantom weighed next to nothing, otherwise his mostly paralyzed right arm would not have been able to support his weight.

Dash carried Phantom back to his bedroom and laid Phantom in his bed. The covers were already thrown back from when Dash had gotten his Ghost Spotters alert an hour earlier. Complexion drained, eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, hair damp, veins etched in poison - Dash’s hero looked so small and helpless. It made Dash want to hold him. Either that, or cry.

He did neither. Instead, he stripped off his gloves and raincoat, which he put in the bathroom with the rest of the contaminated articles of clothing. He went back to his closet and pulled out a pair of pajamas from the bottom of a bin. They were his favorite pair from when he was in junior high but had no longer fit him once he got taller and bulked up in high school. Warm red flannel, patterned with brown teddy bears wearing cozy-looking scarves - the only person outside of his family who had seen these was Kwan, who was sworn to secrecy. But they had been the best, especially during the winter or when Dash had been sick, the times when it was important to feel comfortable. They would probably fit Phantom.

Averting his eyes, feeling his face burning, Dash peeled Phantom’s soaked underwear off, dropped them on the carpet, and immediately put the ghost boy’s legs in his red flannel pajama pants. The hero’s modesty preserved, Dash pinched the underwear between two of his fingers, took them to the bathroom, and hung them over the shower curtain rail to dry. They hung there innocuously, glowing faintly - ghost undies.

Back in his bedroom, Dash wrestled Phantom’s upper half into the pajama top. His estimate had been mostly right - Phantom was a little too tall and his arms too long for the pajamas, by about an inch, but otherwise the pjs fit him. Phantom was pretty small.

The veins of venom on the ghost boy’s face had retreated past his jawline and were not glowing so fiercely. Now that the rest of the ones on his body were hidden from sight, he looked a lot better, although it was strange to see the hero wearing Dash’s favorite childhood pajamas, laying in his bed. A strange flutter tickled in Dash’s stomach and flitted into his heart. He was blushing again.

Gingerly, Dash pulled the blankets over Phantom up to his chin and tucked them around him. Even more gingerly, trying not to draw comparisons between this paralyzed ghost and a dead body, Dash touched two fingers to Phantom’s eyelids and closed them. If - no, when Phantom recovered from the spider poison, it wouldn’t hurt him to get a few hours of sleep… assuming ghosts slept.

Dash preemptively texted his parents, letting them know that he was sick and would be staying home from school that day. He hadn’t had a sick day since last school year, so he knew they would take him at his word. To be safe, he locked his bedroom door.

He pulled his computer chair over to the side of the bed and slumped into it. His numb right arm lay in his lap, paralyzed, the green lightning bolts on his hand as harsh and virulent as when they first appeared. He tried not to think about it. Instead, he sat up, determined to watch over his hero through the rest of the night.

-----

Part 2 --> 

[sweetaesuga]

in your heart | his fridays

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: fluff, angst(?), established relationship, fratboy jk, ex-fuckboy jk, bookworm reader!

warnings: language, implied drinking, these two are crackheads basically

word count: 1.1k 

synopsis: your fridays without jungkook.

timeline: takes place after the events of in your eyes. 

↳ masterlist

a/n: my posts aren’t showing up under the tags :(((( so sorry for posting this many times. i tried linking a card of current issues going but it’ll hide this🥺

Something doesn't feel right.

It's surely the empty seat besides you where your boyfriend would usually reside but not today. He decided to go to a party his fraternity was throwing. He deemed you would hate him if he was to go to one ever since you started dating which is why he hadn't gone to one in so long. Jungkook even took you out for dinner. 

The whole night consisted of him being sweet to you, way too sweet. Not a jokingly insult was hurled your way how you two normally act towards one another. He took the chance to ask you if he could attend the party. 

The question struck you a bit. You didn't want him asking you permission to go somewhere, you never wanted to be that couple. You didn't want to eventually become the girlfriend who hogged all of his attention. You just wished he wouldn't bail out on you all the time like he used to. You assured him that he didn't have to ask you permission to go to such places yet he still felt awkward. 

Jungkook💓: are u sure about this??

Jungkook💓: i can always not go u know

Jungkook💓: if ur not ok with it 

sugar mama🥺: I'm fine with it!!! 

sugar mama🥺: Go have fun just don't do anything stupid without me

Jungkook💓: ok i luv u

His response threw you off. You've only been dating for two months and none of you have ever told each other you love one another. You don't dwell too much on the topic, simply brushing it off as Jungkook just being excited and he didn't genuinely mean it.

You sat on your couch, searching through Hulu. You contemplated whether or not to watch Rick and Morty, the show you two watch together. Knowing your boyfriend, he would whine about you watching it without him. You exited and scrolled through Netflix. Your attention was divided, one on the movie you were watching and the other on Jungkook's text. In the end you selected a random movie, choosing to just have it as background noise to swallow the silence in the room that was normally filled with Jungkook and you. 

You explored through your Instagram. Reloading your page again, your heart stopped. Taehyung had uploaded a picture. He was taking up most of the picture but Jungkook is still seen in the edge, grinning like an idiot with a bottle of beer in his hand. The others are a blur. 

You felt guilty for going ease from the sight of no girl nearby. You were still insecure despite his comfort. 

You liked the picture, reading the caption before going on to the explore page. You find yourself looking at memes, sending the funniest ones to Jungkook. You didn't care that you sent him twenty-two messages and he'll probably respond the next morning as long as he sent you twenty-two texts back instead of a singular response. 

It's around one in the morning when you receive a thread of messages from your boyfriend coming all at once. You were half awake, body threatening to enter slumber. You frowned with squinted eyes when your phone screen shined. Tiredly, you unlocked your phone. 

Jungkook💓: hiiiiiiiii

Jungkook💓: i miss u i'm sorry for not being there with u

Jungkook💓: forgive me🥺🥺

Jungkook💓: i think i'm drunk but not really

Jungkook💓: thank fuck autocorrect gets me cuz i'm like typing the wrong shir rn

Jungkook💓: i'm in my bed rn :((((

Jungkook💓: n i miss u so much like

Jungkook💓: so so sos osos osos odiosos much

Jungkook💓: wtf my keyboard just wrote that

Jungkook💓: is that spanish???

sugar mama🥺: Idk 

sugar mama🥺: R u ok???

sugar mama🥺: How much did u have to drink?? 

Jungkook💓: idk they just kept common u know??

Jungkook💓: fuckhdn i meant comming*

Jungkook💓: wait but like did u mist me too🥺🦆🥺

sugar mama🥺: Ofc i did🙄

sugar mama🥺: Now go to bed ur gonna feel like shit in the morning

jungkook💓: bet 

jungkook💓: IMG_3725.JPG

jungkook💓: dont my toes look prettyyyyukjd

sugar mama🥺: Stop we said we weren't into this feet shit n go to mf bed

Jungkook💓: ooooooo someone's mad that i got prettyer feet than them😌

Before you can reply to him, his name flashed over your phone screen. You swiped across the screen, bringing your phone up to your ear. You regret doing so as Jungkook screamed into the phone that he has more beautiful feet than you which you can not deny. There's a hiccup before he continued. "I'm like so fucking drunk right now. I miss you so much, I wish you came," his speech is a little slurred but you don't mind. "But I know you hate being surrounded by a lot of people, claustrophobic bitch."

You laughed into the speaker. Jungkook enjoyed every second of it. "You know what? At least I'm not afraid of a microwave." 

You heard him gasp on the other line. "Microwaves have the potential to blow up and shit! Why the hell are you afraid of a spider that's not even half your size?" Jungkook shook his head, remembering how last week you forced him to kill a spider in the corner of the room. He tried to convince you to leave it alone but you weren't having it. 

"They're fucking spiders! Almost everyone in the world is afraid of them even your mom!" he stayed silent for a second. Right when he was ready to defend himself he suddenly realized his mother does have a fear of spiders. "Aww, cat got your tongue, bubba?" 

Jungkook giggled, laying out on his bed. An empty spot next to him where your body would occupy it. He doesn't say anything else, choosing to listen to your breathing. You call out his name, wondering if he dozed off. Jungkook hummed into the speaker. "I think I'm going to have to cut this short and go to bed. I love you," he smiled only to be met with silence. His cheeks burned in embarrassment and he was ready to open his mouth and drunkenly take everything back. 

"Goodnight, don't think you're going to remember in the morning but I love you too," your voice was quiet. It almost drove Jungkook to tears from how small you sounded, almost as if scared to confess to him. 

He hung up first, falling asleep quickly despite being disturbed by the void place besides him. You don't fall asleep right after. In fact, you don't sleep the whole night. Your mind too focused on your conversation. 

Jungkook💓: HOLY SHIT HOW MUCH DID I DRINK

[saintheartwing]

Undertales of Friendship: Derp-TEMMIE-Nation

Temmie was crying in the rainy streets of Ponyville. What had just happened was absolutely horrible. The laughter, the teasing, the harsh words, it was too much for one Temmie to bear. Worse, her super deluxe ultra rare super delicious Temmie Flakes were now mushy in the mud, the catlike monster crying and shivering.

"Hey... you okay?" A kind voice said behind her. Temmie turned, and saw a sight that made her go wide eyed with uber cute happiness. The grey pegasus before her was about average size, gently flapping her wings, with seven bubbles for her flank tatoo, as Temmie called it. But the cuteness came from those eyes, one looking up, the other down, making her look so huggabale combined with thta Frisky Fun smile.

She called it that because it reminded her of Uber cute and snuggly hoooooooooooooman Frisk, such a CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE!

But, she remembered what happened, and sobbed again. "Tem.... sad, so 1 lik Teme, cuz Teme tak werd."

The pony sat beside Temmie, offering her an umbrella, making the Temmie blink happily. "I know what you mean. Ponies pick on me all the time because of my derpiness. They even call me Derpy. My full name is actually Dizty Do Derpy Hooves."

Temmie smiled widely from ear to ear. Literally. "Derp e? Such a cuuuuute nam! I'm Temmie!" Temmie hopped closer. "Derp not allergic to Tem, r u?"

Derpy smiled, hugging Temmie. "Nah, Just clumsy. Ask Twilight. I once dropped a piano on her." She tilted her head a bit. "Followed by a hay cart. Followed by an anvil."

Tem went wide eyed, anime style. "OWWWWWWOWOWOW! Dat mus hut!"

"It did. But she forgave me. And now I even can fly pretty good thanks to Rainbow Dash teaching me to adapt how I fly to my vision." She pointed a hoof at her crossed eyes. "For a long time ponies thought I was retarded.... but these were just messing up my vision, making me clumsy. Some ponies still tease me about it, and I am not as bright as many others...but..."

Before she said another word, a rather annoying, nasaly voice was heard. "Oh isn't THIS rich! Looks like the Temfem found a fweeeeend." The two groaned as they saw a monster shaped like a ufo, with two eyes on the sides, a big ugly nose, and a small, mocking smile under an M shaped mustache.

Jerry.

And with him were several of the local bullies, a group of ponies who basically caused trouble for everyone. During the date bidding not long ago, they made a point of making obscene cat calls to Rainbow Dash, and shortly after the monsters came they were some of the first to rail against Muffet, saying she wanted to turn everyone into flies with her evil pastries, and eat them.

Admittedly that was partially true, but she only did that to parasprites because they were both delicious and cuddly.

"Wow, retards really DO attract."

"Man, you see her eyes?"

"I bet she can't even see us!"

"And I heard yesterday she tried to deliver the princesses's mail to Big Macintosh!"

"Big Mac? I heard she almost started a war by delivering a sex note to Queen Chrysalis!"

Temmie growled, and with one paw that got VERY long, successfully slapping every last one of them, only too late realizing her mistake.

"OOOOOOOOOO... I've been temmied! Now I am gonna have... Hoives!"

Temmie began to sob, bolting. Derpy snorted and growled at the laughing bullies. "You all oughta be ashamed of yourselves!"

Jerry snickered. "You oughta be ashamed of those eyes! I mean, are you looking up or down? Oh wait, it's BOTH!"

Derpy gritted her teeth. With a mighty whinney, she charged Jerry, knocking him down. The two were brawling as Twilight and several guards, including Papyrus, broke it up.

The look on the faces of the guards meant there would be a lot of trouble.

***

"And after what Jerry said, I didn't know what else to do hon! WHat kind of monster is that monster? He is such a.....a....."

"Monster?" Doctor Whooves said, working on his steam powered inventions while he and Derpy talked. The two had married some time before, despite obvious differences (Or perhaps because of them). Now they lived in a quaint cottage in Ponyville, where Derpy spent a lot of time baking muffins to go with the money she maid as a professional mailmare, while the Doctor worked as both a medical practitioner and a fringe scientist.

"Yeah, monster." Derpy whimpered some. "I hate Jerry."

The Doctor peeked out from under his latest work, the Steamy Dreamy 3000, meant to use a gentle steaming mist to help ponies sleep when it is too cold. "Dear, that is still no reason for assult and battery. And Jerry wound up with those bits with you paying out the nose because he had his gang as witnesses. He played you like he tried to play Temmie."

"Ohmygosh! Temmie! I forgot all about her... poor thing, she is so cute and kiind, and those creeps had no right to-"

"Dear." The Doc came over to her and nuzzled. "Think about this logically. Temmie is a very unlogical creature. Now if I were her, where would be the last place I would wanna go after being insulted?"

Derpy pondered, thinking mostly of muffins. Sweet, delicious muffins, with fresh raisins in them, and that home grown oatmeal from Sweet Apple Acres...

"Ummm.... the bakery?"

The Doc hmmmed. "Unlikely.... out of the way....very unusual..... yes, I do believe you are right love!"

Derpy blushed. "Well... I'l be honest, I was kinda asking if we could go there, all this made me kinda hungry." She made a little shy blush, the Doctor chuckling.

"Why not. I need a break and you need a pick me up. Then we can figure out what to do about Temmie."

Derpy hmmmed. "Maybe she is like me? Maybe she just needs to find what she is good at. Something that is just her?"

The two nodded, waking out of the home, humming a gentle tune (Ironically to the music of Temmie Village)

What talent does a Temmie have? What skill, does a temmie show? What job, can a Temmie do? I admit, I really just don't know. Can they sing? Dance? Love? Romance? Run? Play? Sleep all day? Do they cook? Cuddle? Solve puzzles? Do they laugh? Sing? Do anything? Sew? Sell? Ask? Tell? Kiss? Hug? Comfort? Bug? I'll tell you... It's all of the above! What power, does a Tem possess? What things, does a Temmie need? What hope, does a Temmie have? What is, their eternal creed. Can they sing? Dance? Love? Romance? Run? Play? Sleep all day? Do they cook? Cuddle? Solve puzzles? Do they laugh? Sing? Do anything? Sew? Sell? Ask? Tell? Kiss? Hug? Comfort? Bug? I'll tell you... It's all of the above! That's what a temmie does! Just like me and you! That's who  and what a temmie is! And I assure you, it is all true! Tem...Tem Tem... Tem Tem...Tem Tem... "TEM!"Derpy said in shock as she walked in. As she had guessed, unintentionally, there was Temmie, trying to hide in Muffet's Spider Batter, several spiders tryng not to laugh at the cuteness. Muffet herself had her four arms crossed.

"Look, I have no orders for a Temmie Cake...yet." Muffet added under her breath. "And I highly doubt the Cakes, speaking of which, will approve of you hiding in my cake batter."

"Tem not lik even az foob. Tem worth 0."

Derpy approached. "That's not true! You're just different is all, and different means you have different ways, like me."

Muffet nodded. "Derpy is right. You remember what I was like when I first came here, how I was ridiculed because I used spiders in my pastries?"

Nearby, a pair of changeling girls were being tickled inside and out by said spiders. "Yeah, then you found out what we think of them, you doll!" One said, the other smiling and nodding.

"Or Huey! The monster kid with no arms? No one is making fun of him now!"

At the school, Diamond Tiara smiled as the high jumping Huey retrieved her crown from a tree after a crow took it, earning a kiss from the formerly snotty pony and cheers from the other kids.

"Or TWILIGHT?!" Muffet pointed out.

Temmie blinked in surprise. "Huh?"

Derpy nodded. "Yeah, before she became a princess a lot of people made fun of her bookworm nature. But now? Now she is the princess!"

Tem huddle din the batter. "But.... tem knot lik dat...."

Muffet petted the battered Temie with sprinkles. "Yes you are. You're friendly and kind, and everyone who needs a hug can count on you for one. You're the best friend anyone could ask for, and you make everyone laugh!"

Derpy nodded.

Temmie smiled a little. "But.... wha bot Jerr?"

Muffet growled. "JERRY. Now he is someone who IS worthless. No wonder all the good monsters ditch him. He not only has no friends, he does his best to alienate them."

Derpy was confused somewhat. "But why?"

Muffet sighed. "Bullies are often self hating. But if you ask me, Jerry is a rare breed, deary. He bullies just because that is who he is. He hates friendship and hates others, he'd rather be alone yet loves to annoy others, it is like my spider doughnuts are to those changelings in his mind."

Derpy growled. "Man, even Discord has friends, how can Jerry go out of his way to ruin friendship and be happy about it?"

Muffet leaned close to the two. "Because he is... well... JERRY."

***

As the duo of Derpy and Temmie left the bakery, they saw Jerry waiting there, bulies beside him. He snickered some as he watched the two walk out.

"Well well, the cross eyed mule and the low eyed pike return! I wonder if they have any.... derptemmination?! *Snicker*

Ok, that's it. Buck this, I'm done.

"Huh?"

Everyone... let's ditch this guy. He is so annoying and wrong and even I as the writer am sick of him.

Temmie smiled. "Dat goooooo idee! Tem flakes any 1?"

Derpy smiled. "Maybe we can try some Temmie Flake muffins?"

Temmie was so excited she literrally lept 100 feet in the air with her paws still on the ground... and stayed at that height. "OOOOOO! Nomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom! Lezzgo!" She said, wlaking with her new long l-

"HELLLLOOOOOOOO?! I wasn't done insulting them!"

*The entire story ditches Jerry. The world is better for it. After all, who likes a bully?*

...

...

...

...Back at Derpy's house, Derpy and Temmie worked on the TemMuffins, Temmie unintenionally believing that SHE was supposed to go in one and not the flakes, resulting in a couple dozen little fruity smelling Tem Muffins, and one giant one with Temmie in the middle, breathing out actual balls of happiness that smiled as they floated by.

"Tem lik muffen. Muffen so warm!"

Derpy smiled, playfully nomming a bite. "And tasty too!"

Everyone laughed, especialy Temmie, because she was with friends who loved her, and when you had that, then who cared what anyone else thought?"

"Cuz afta all.... Tem happy is best Tem!"

TEMMIEND!

...

...

...

...JERRY: Where did everyone go? Oh come on guys! Where is everyone! Hello? Hellllllllllllllooooooooooo? *Snort* Fine,. this story is dumb anyway*

Jerry walked away. Thank goodness.

Classic Jerry.

[codylabs]

Wander Into The Woods Chapter 1

"Com'n, dude. It's not called Spider Woods because it's known for huge, killer spiders. It's called that because it was discovered by the great explorer Phineas Spider!"

"You got that from somewhere."

"So what if I did? Even if it is crawling with huge man-eating spiders who want to suck out your brains, it'd be a good entry for your journal." Wendy swiped the Pine Tree journal from Dipper's hands, throwing it up in the air and catching it.

"Hey!" Dipper squeezed indignantly, snatching it away from Wendy before she could throw it again.

"Besides, you'll be getting away from your sister for once…" Wendy tempted, leaning against the tree as she grinned mischievously.

“I’ll have you know, I like hanging out with Mabel. She’s like the Yin to my Yang.” Dipper huffed, looking down awkwardly as he nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Or is it Yang to my Yin?”

“Since when do you care about that Japanese junk?”

“Chinese.” Dipper corrected, scowling at her. “The Yin-Yang in Chinese. Not Japanese.”

“Chinese-Binese. Com’n, do you want to get away from Mabel or not? Don’t tell me you think she’s not a bother.” Wendy groaned, disappointment flashing across her face at the realization that he might not actually want to come.

“Well, I mean, she hasn’t been lately. Not really. But…” Dipper squinted at Wendy, confused. “Hold on. Why does this mean so much to you?”

“Well, it’s Spider Forest!! I’ve never been, but Dad won’t let me go without someone. My brothers and practically everyone at school are chickens about this, except for Robbie and Tambry. But can you imagine going camping with your ex-boyfriend and his current girlfriend? Talk about awkward.”

“But you hang out with them all the time!” Dipper protested, tilting his head. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah. With Lee, Nate, and Thompson. But those three are wimps, too.”

“Oh. What makes you think that I won’t shy away, too?”

“Well, you’ve got that book.” Wendy told him, gesturing at the leather-clad journal. “You’ve hardly written anything in it for the last year, because you’ve been living in boring, old California, and you’re itching to put something in it. And what could be a better place to get inspiration then a spider-infested woods ten miles west of Gravity Falls?”

“Well…”

“Stan II also told me that the borders of Gravity Falls stretches around the forest, too, so paranormal stuff is there.” Wendy told Dipper, nudging him eagerly. “Please?”

“Paranormal stuff, huh?” Dipper asked, frowning at the journal. “Fine. I’ll go. But why didn’t you go with your Dad?”

“He said that he ‘went there once and once was enough’.”

“Waitwaitwait, if Manly Dan, YOUR DAD couldn’t handle it, what makes you think I can handle it?”

“Um, because you’re Dipper Pines, your Grunkles are literally Stanly Pines and Stanford Pines. One owns brace knuckles and spent thirty years messing with machinery he didn’t understand but still got it up and running, and the other owns laser guns and is a huge nerd.  Also, your sister has managed to stay alive on an all-sugar diet. If that isn’t impressive, I don’t know what is.” Wendy shrugged, smirking at him as she adjusted the pine tree hat.

Dipper hesitated one more time, weighing the pros and cons. There were really more cons then pros, but pros still won out. “Alright. Spider woods?”

“Yep. I’ll…um… ‘borrow’ Thompson’s mom’s van.” Wendy winked, an adventurous look crossing her face. “I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow, deal, dude?”

“Deal.” Dipper agreed, grinning at her confidently.

---

Hooonk!! Honk honk Hooonk!!

“Dipper!! Com’n out!! Spider Woods awaits!!” Wendy’s voice broke through Dipper’s thoughts as he flipped through the science magazine.

“Aack!! Coming!!” Dipper stuffed the magazine into his duffle bag, pulling it onto his shoulder as he rushed outside, turning his head to look over his shoulder. “Bye, Mable!! Bye, Soos!!”

“See you, dude!!” Soos called, waving from his spot in the employees-only room.

“Bye, bro-bro!!” Mabel beamed, cuddling with Waddles as she somehow knitted a sweater at the same time.

The mysteries that involved his sister still baffled Dipper to this day.

“There you are, man!!” Wendy grinned, sitting in the front seat of the van. “Get in; I packed it with everything. We’re going to backpack in and junk.”

“Really? Are you sure that’s…safe?”

“Of course not!! When has a Corduroy ever done something ‘safe’?”

“…granted. Let’s get this show on the road!” Dipper whooped, heading for the back seats.

“Dude. It’s just us. You can sit in the front.” Wendy grabbed his arm and pulled him into the passenger seat.

Dipper slipped in without a word, adjusting himself in the seat.

Wendy revved up the car again, making it preform a U-turn as she turned it onto the road leading away from the mystery shack. “I’m surprised you haven’t already gone to Spider Woods without Stan II, yet.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not sure why; he hasn’t even mentioned it before.” Dipper admitted, sighing in confusion as he gazed out the window.

“I don’t know, man.” Wendy shrugged, pulling onto the main street. “I’ve heard from S.W. Camper-veterans that it’s pretty hard core for even one night. I’ll bet they’re wimps, too. You don’t have arachnophobia, right?”

“I don’t think so.” Dipper frowned, cocking his head.

“Good. Those doofuses probably have arachnophobia, so they couldn’t handle all the creepy-crawlies.”

“Well, I’ll let you know tomorrow, then.” Dipper joked and was rewarded when Wendy laughed.

“I’ll let you know, too.” Wendy grinned, shaking her head.

“As if. You’re not scared of anything.” Dipper scoffed, glancing at her as he hugged his journal to his chest.

“Ha, how do you know that I just want you to think that, and I’m actually one of those freaks who wear a lunch bag over my face most of the time?”

“Um…”

Wendy laughed again, shoving him with her free hand. “I’m messing with you, dude. I’m not one of ‘em freaks.”

“I’m not sure if they classify as ‘freaks’…” Dipper unsurely contemplated.

Wendy shrugged, scoffing. “Whatever, Dipper.”

They lapsed into silence, focusing on the road ahead as they quieted, thinking about the terrors hiding in the woods.

---

"Here we are!" Wendy announced after fifteen-some minutes of driving. "Woods-sweet-woods!"

"The place where nightmares are born." Dipper mumbled, squeezing his duffle bag to him.

"Com'n, no arachnophobia, no problem." Wendy snorted, leaning down to ruffle his hair, but only managing to wrinkle his hat. "Eh, close enough. Out, out! Spider woods awaits!"

"Is it just me, or are we already pretty far in?" Dipper asked, gulping nervously.

The tall, swamp trees were clouded in mist, dozens of meters tall, their wet, mossy branches seeming to reach for the two teenagers, hauntingly towering over them.

"The deeper we go, the crazier it gets." Wendy chuckled, slinging her own backpack on her shoulders. "Or at least, that's one of the many, random bits of trivia I managed to wrangle from my Dad. Cool, right?"

"That doesn't answer my question." Dipper contemplated, watching Wendy suspiciously. "Are we already pretty deep in?"

"Naw, only about a mile or so. See, the road's-" Wendy pointed, then paused, staring at the trees beyond her finger. "Huh. I could have sworn it was right there. Like, literally, right there."

"Okay-hey-hey...Wendy, this is already creeping me out. You have, like, a great sense of direction, and suddenly disappeared?"

"Dude. Chill. It's just the fog messing with us."

"Wen-Dee!"

"Dip-pore!" Wendy repeated in the same, whiny, voice-cracked fashion, mimicking his pose. "Re-lax. Keep calm. As long as we find our way back to the van, we'll be good. Besides, we've only been here, like, what? Thirty seconds? And you're already wussing out on me?"

"It's not-"

"If you wuss out, I wuss out. My reputation would be ruined, man. I might be a total teen, but I'm not going to rebel against Manly Dan, okay? I'm not going to run all alone through Spider Woods, just because my partner wussed out and I didn't. Okay? Be a man, man." Wendy cuffed him gently, smirking at his expression as it morphed from terror to determination. "Right! I only have to survive one night of this twisted horror." Dipper smiled, trembling slightly.

"Night's still a ways off." Wendy reminded him, seeming overjoyed with this realization.

Dipper, not so much.

Sure, all that had happened was that they lost the path…but from the brief horror stories woven about this place from the town’s folk, you could never be too careful.

“Which is good.” Wendy continued, smirking to herself. “We get the full, horrifying experience.”

“I don’t consider that a good thing.” Dipper scoffed, nervously interchanging his weight between feet.

Wendy just rolled her eyes, grunting. “Stop being a wuss. You agreed to come, so stop whining.”

“I wasn’t whining, just stating facts!!”

“That’s also whining. Man up, and get ready!!”  Wendy stretched out her arms, gesturing wildly to the tress, grinning. “We’re about to enter the unknown.”

[vgckwb]

ML: Are They Worthy? Chapter 7: Nino’s Feelings!/Re: Anansi

“Ladybug and Judgement Wolf were standing over Nino. “Doesn’t this seem a little…” Ladybug began asking.

“Creepy?” Judgment Wolf finished. “I know, but I thought doing it in broad daylight would be worse. Especially because the subject has to be knocked out.”

“I see” said Ladybug.

Judgement Wolf readied his sword. “Wolf Mist!” he called. He thrust the mist onto Nino. “Alright, now to catch the little green kwami.”

“Wayzz?” asked Ladybug. “He isn’t here.”

“What?” Judgement Wolf asked. “Forget it, you can explain it to me later. Right now, I have a job to do. Take my hand.” Ladybug did. Judgement Wolf walked into the Wolf Mist with Ladybug. They are in an empty white area, and Ladybug is befuddled. Judgement Wolf put his thumb, index, and middle finger together than then separated them to bring up a screen. “This is what Nino is dreaming.” He said.

Nino was walking by himself, listening to his headphones, walking passed the ferris wheel. He takes note of the fireworks. Suddenly, a large woman with six arms, wearing headgear that looks like a spider, and whose uniform is gold and brown hops onto the ferris wheel. She begins spitting webs and then crawls up to one of the carts. She rips it off, jumps back down, and takes out one of the passengers.

“Don’t I have class with her?” Nino asked himself. The spider-lady ran off with the passenger, while another gets out. Nino rushes to her. “Are you alright?”

“NINO! It’s awful! That spider-lady took my friend Alya!” said Marinette.

Nino then remembered that this was his class rep, Marinette, and the person that the spider-lady ran off with was her friend Alya. They didn’t know each other too well, but he at least thought that this Marinette would make a better class rep than Chloe. “What should we do?” Nino asked.

“Wait, how come Nino doesn’t seem to know me too well?” Ladybug asked.

“Good question” said Judgement Wolf. “I’m not sure myself. The only thing I asked was ‘what would you do if Anansi attacked and you and Alya weren’t dating?’ I guess Nino’s mind took it to a place where you guys don’t know each other too well.”

“Well, we should try to rescue her,” said Marinette. “But, I don’t know if we can hold our own against that spider-lady.”

“Well, we’ll think of something when we get there, dudette” said Nino. “Let’s go!” Nino and Marinette ran down the web-covered Champs-Elysees and confronted the spider-lady, who had made a web in the Arc de Triomphe, and was holding Alya there. Marinette and Nino hid behind a car.

“Nora! Let me go!” Alya shouted.

“The name’s Anansi now!” Anansi said. “And I’m not going to let anything happen to my baby sister.”

“I’m not a child anymore! Let me go!” Alya kept demanding.

“Should we wait for the authorities?” Marinette asked.

“They might not shoot cause she has a hostage. The last thing we want is for your friend to get hurt” Nino said. Nino sees a metal bar by his feet. He picks it up. “Marinette. I’ll distract this Anansi character, while you see if you can’t do anything about that spider web.”

“Nino wait!” said Marinette. “What if you get hurt?”

Nino smiled. “I’ll be fine. I’ll get out of the way if the situation gets too hairy. Just focus on freeing your friend.” Nino ran out, metal bar in hand. “Hey Spider! Let her go!”

“Seriously? And what are you going to do about it?” Anansi said.

“I’ll...I’ll fight you!” Nino said.

“Now THIS I gotta see” said Anansi, climbing down.

“What are you doing?!” Alya asked.

Anansi met Nino. “Just to make this interesting, I’ll only use 10% of my strength.”

“You’re going to need that other 90% when I’m through with you!” Nino said. He swung his bar, but Anansi blocked it. She then threw a punch, which sent him to the ground. Nino got back up and charged at Anasi.

The two kept fighting. Alya watched in horror. Her sister was going to pulverize this guy. She then heard footsteps approach. She looked down and saw her friend. “Marinette?” Marinette put her finger in front of her mouth to signal to be quiet. Marinette began inspecting the web as best she could. It was far up, so she decided she needed a closer look. She found a ladder and climbed up to the web.

When she touched it however, she got stuck. “WAH!’ she yelped, as the ladder fell out from under her and she was now hanging from the web by her arm.

Anansi was staring down Nino when she heard that. She turned around and saw Marinette hanging from her web. “Thought you could fool me” said Anansi, walking toward the web.

Nino was panicking. Two of his classmates were now caught in this web. Even though he didn’t know them well, he still knew he had to do something.”Hey Anansi!” he shouted. “We’re not finished yet!”

Anansi turned back. “You still wanna go?” she said. “I’ve got better things to do.”

“What? Are you scared?!” Nino said. “Why did I say that? He said to himself.

“Scared!” said Anansi, now giving him her full attention. “Fine! If you wanna go, I’ll go! But I’m not holding back anymore!” She charged at him, readying her fists to strike.

Nino was out of breath. He was scared. But he was determined not to give up. As soon as Anansi began to punch, he jumped backward and slammed the bar against her head, sending her to the ground. Nino landed and propped himself up with the bar and was breathing heavily.

“HER HEADGEAR!” Alya shouted. “IT’S THE SOURCE OF HER POWERS!” Nino nodded, took the headgear off, and ripped it, revealing and Akuma.

Anansi turned back into Nora. “What happened?” she asked. She looked up to see Nino. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m just the guy that saved your sister” Nino said.

The dream started to fade into all white. Nino looked around and saw Judgement Wolf and Ladybug. “Congratulations,” Judgement Wolf said. “You passed.”

“Ladybug? And...YOU!” Nino said.

“Yes me” sad Judgement Wolf.

“Nino, how are you feeling?” Ladybug asked.

“I feel...fine” Nino said. “But what are you doing here?”

“Well, apparently Cat Noir’s dream got very intense” said Ladybug. “I just came along to see how Judgement Wolf operates. He trusts me to protect the city, so I need to trust him to do his duty.”

“Of course” said Judgement Wolf. “Trust is a two-way street. So, how did I do?”

Ladybug smiled. “I think you did fine. Just be careful when you do this.”

“I will” said Judgement Wolf. “Goodnight Nino. My kwami should meet you tomorrow to tell you what he thinks.” He grabbed Ladybug’s hand, and together they lept out of the Wolf Mist, as Nino fell back asleep.

Ladybug and Judgement Wolf leave Nino’s house. “Before we part ways, I want to get back to what you said earlier” said Judgement Wolf. “Why doesn't Nino have his miraculous with him?”

Ladybug was shocked. “The truth is, there’s a guardian of the miraculous here in the city. He lets Cat Noir and I keep our miraculouses full-time. But when other miraculouses are needed, he asks me to only give them out temporarily.”

“I see” said Judgement Wolf.

“I would like it if everyone kept their miraculouses” Ladybug said. “And I would like it if we could tell everyone who we were. But it’s just…”

“I get it” said Judgement Wolf. “You have to protect your identity from Hawk Moth. Tell you what? I do plan on meeting this guardian, but I’ll do it on his terms. Just as a courtesy to you.”

Ladybug smiled. “Thank you Judgement Wolf” she said. She left.

“I guess it’s time for me to leave as well,” said Judgement Wolf.

The next day, Nino arrived at school and walked up to Alya. “Hey Alya. Wanna go play some Super Penguino?”

“Sure thing” said Alya. The two of them went to a corner to play it.

Just as Alya was about to kiss Nino, Nino interrupted and said “There’s something I need to tell you. I got visited by Judgement Wolf last night.”

“What happened?” Alya asked.

“Well, he used his power to make me dream of a situation where Anansi was attacking. In the dream, I hardly knew who you were. Yet I still tried saving you.”

“Nino” Alya said.

“I actually kind of feel relieved” Nino said. Alya was confused. “See, I’ve been having doubts myself. The only reason I became Carapace was to save you. I sometimes wonder if I’m an actual hero. But now knowing that I’m willing to save someone I barely know, I feel better.”

“Nino” said Alya. “Come here.” She gave her boyfriend a hug.

Nino spotted Beyyo floating around. He went to whisper in Alya’s ear. “Hey, do you want to get tested as well?”

Alya thought about it. This meant having to tell someone other than Nino her secret. But as she looked into his eyes, she could see that her boyfriend came out the other end stronger and more confident. “OK” she said.

“Great” said Nino. “Hey little dude” he said, waving down Beyyo. Beyyo was shocked and hid while Alya was turning around. “No need to be shy. I just want you to meet my girlfriend. You might know her as Rena Rouge.”

Beyyo popped back in. “I was going to give you my approval, but if you go about blabbing secrets like that, I may have to reconsider.”

“Don’t worry, he asked me beforehand” said Alya. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure about this?” Beyyo asked.

“Well, you seem dead set on testing every miraculous holder, and I’d rather you not hit my girlfriend with that Reveal Claw” said Nino. “Besides, if Ladybug trusts you, why shouldn’t I?”

Beyyo nodded and left. “Wait, when did Ladybug say she trusted him?” Alya asked.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, Ladybug was with him last night” Nino said.

“Jerk. You could have told me that sooner” Alya said.

“Sorry” said Nino.

“It’s fine” said Alya. “Now, how about that kiss?” The two started to make out.

Beyyo returned to Vlad and whispered the information he gathered. “Alya is Rena Rouge?” he said. “Why am I not surprised? But I am intrigued.”

More people were walking into class. Eventually, Alya and Nino walked in holding hands. “Oh you two” said Adrien.

“Oh yeah” said Nino. “Adrien, we need to talk to you about something.”

“Huh? What is it?” Adrien asked.

“Well, it’s-” Nino began. Lila then walked it. “I’ll talk to you later about it.”

“Oh. Um, OK” said Adrien. Everyone took their seats as class began.

[lo-lynx]

Queer coded villains in Harry Potter

First of all, I love the Harry Potter novels. They’ve been a huge source of comfort for me in my life, and I even have a quote from them tattooed on my arm (“Numbing the pain for a while makes it worse when you finally feel it” (Rowling 2000: 603)). That does not mean however that I cannot see its faults and want to critically analyse it. So here we go.

Lord Voldemort, Rita Skeeter and Gilderoy Lockhart, what do they have in common except for being villains in Harry Potter? They can all be said to be coded as queer in one way or another. The fact that villains in fiction often are coded as queer is something others have found, for example Li-Vollmer and LaPointe (2003: 89). By doing this the “deviancy” of the villain is enhanced and the moral good of the hero is enhanced. This is the case in for instance several Disney movies such as The Lion King (Scar), Aladdin (Jafar) and Hercules (Hades) (Li-Vollmer & LaPointe 2003: 97). Here I will also claim that this is the case for several characters in the Harry Potter novels.

But first off, what do I mean with queer? Queer theory is a very broad term, but here I will mainly refer to Judith Butler’s version of it. Butler says that for society to see one’s gender as coherent one’s gender, sex and sexuality must align (Butler 1990/2007: 74) Therefore, for instance, someone with a “female” body must act like a woman and be attracted to men. If this is not the case that person causes what she calls gender trouble and is perceived as queer. Other writers have expanded on this idea, for instance Donna Haraway (1991: 150) writes about the cyborg as a metaphor for the queer. Like that which is queer the cyborg symbolises something “unnatural” and something that is discontinuous, out of order. Others have focused on how being femme can be considered queer (Dahl 2016). By doing femininity “wrong”, for instance by being “trashy” or dressing in a way that’s considered inappropriate for that age, one is performing a queer femininity.

So how does this all connect to Harry Potter? Well, let’s start with Lockhart. Sure, he might be on the cover of Witch Weekly and thus be seen as attractive to women (Rowling 1998/2010). But when he’s introduced to us in the second book he’s described as quite feminine, and vain.

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue which exactly matched his eyes, his pointed wizard’s hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair. (Rowling 1998/2010: 49)

Later in the book we also find out that his famous fights are fake and he’s not particularly impressive as a dueller or fighter, being more focused on how he looks than on being heroic (Rowling 1998/2010: 220). Not exactly the masculine hero. So, by being a feminine man, you can consider him as being coded as queer, at least in a way. Not convinced? Well, let’s skip forwards two books.

In the fourth Harry Potter novel we are introduced to Rita Skeeter, an extremely intrusive journalist that might as well have invented “fake news”. When we first meet her, she’s described as:

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jewelled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two inch-nails, painted crimson. (Rowling 2000: 266)

Here Skeeter is described as distinctly feminine, but there’s something off about it. The tone indicates that something about it isn’t quite right… It’s a bit… queer… The way her handbag and her long nails are described are exactly what Ulrika Dahl would call a queer femininity (and I can say that, I’ve met her!) I’ll not go too much into how femininity is described in the Harry Potter books, that’ll probably get its own post one day, but the way Skeeter’s femininity is off definitely code her as queer. And it’s partly those characteristics that make the readers unlike her, they enhance her creepiness.

Now for my last example of queer coded villains in Harry Potter. While Lockhart and Skeeter might be considered bad people, they’re not the major villain of Harry Potter. Tom Riddle aka Lord Voldemort however is. Now, at first Voldemort might not seem queer per say, but a closer look at how his “rebirth” is described makes one realise how much he fits what Haraway talks about with the cyborg. In the fourth book when Harry is forced to witness Voldemort’s return it says:

But then through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron. (…) Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes, and a nose that was flat as a snake’s, with slits for nostrils… (…) His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cat’s, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands, and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exulant. (Rowling 2000: 557-559)

There is something distinctly inhuman and unnatural with Voldemort after he returns after death. This unnaturalness in combination with the discontinuity of his life, his unnatural rebirth and so on, is very reminiscent of Haraway’s description of the cyborg. (It also reminds me of how trans theorists like Susan Stryker (2006) have written about how trans folks are often seen as monstrous, as a Frankenstein’s monster, but that’s a post for another time.) One could also claim that there is something quite queer with Voldemort’s relationship with Quirrell in book one, which is explored a lot more in A Very Potter Musical (Team Starkid 2009) and A Very Potter Senior Year (Team Starkid 2013).

So, in conclusion, several of the villains in the Harry Potter novels have a bit of queer coding attached to them. Does that mean that JK Rowling hate queer people? Probably not. It does however show that as in a lot of fiction there are quite a lot of underlying bias and norms in these books. Just as in for instance Disney movies. Unfortunately, these underlying messages tell us that what is queer is villainous and bad…

 References:

Butler, J. (1990/2007). Genustrubbel. Feminism och identitetens subversion. Translated by Suzanne Almqvist. Göteborg: Bokförlaget Daidalos AB [this is the Swedish translation of Butler’s 1990 book Gender trouble]

Dahl, U. (2016). “Queering Femininity”. lambda nordica. 2016/1-2, pp. 7-20.

Haraway, D. (1991). Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature. London: Free Association Books

Li-Vollmer, M. & LaPointe, M. E. (2003). ”Gender Transgression and Villany in Animated Film”. Popular Communication. 1(2), 89-109.

Rowling, J. K. (1998/2010). Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. London: Bloomsbury.

Rowling, J.K. (2000). Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. London: Bloomsbury.

Stryker, S. (2006). My Words to Victor Frankenstein above the Village of Chamounix: Performing Transgender Rage. in: S. Stryker & S. Whittle, ed. The Transgender Studies Reader. New York: Routledge, pp. 244-256.

Team Starkid. (2009). A Very Potter Musical Act 1 Part 5. [video]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3c9K6MKCIs&list=PLC76BE906C9D83A3A&index=5 

Team Starkid. (2013). A Very Potter Senior Year Act 2 Part 7. [video]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6Jm8ZkYuVc&list=PLvep3WS9e8tRA_amclMNdVkVqNazfebXk&index=26

[ecotone99]

[MF] The Bad Dream of the Quamatch Canyon Snake

I

​

Bleeding green silt into the ocean the Quamatch River clearly remembers its own icy birth. It flings rainbow-tinted mist as alms for the day.

A snake licks the darkness of an egg. It hatches, hunts, and molts.

Canyon-funneled wind whips its skin into the fork of a dead nettle. The ghost twitches and dances translucent, a vision to trouble a winter sleep.

A goose barks and descends into the water with relief as a steady noise emerges from the west. The sound hides the trees' whispering ans ends all lemon songbirds' morning chorusing.

The snake awakens haunted. Feebly worming out into the din it climbs the ivy confused. Amber shadows fall about and blacken. The harrowing sound everywhere crests. Innumerable legions of geese cloak the valley in false night. They cool and rob all vigor from the blood of the snake, killing him.

Woven and cradled in wind-swaying arms he rots.

The geese unveil the day. The last laughing stragglers give back to the valley its stolen calm.

​

II

​

The night she noticed him driving by she crouched low burning bowls in her truck. Thumbing through tokes with each flick of the bic her eyes caught byzantine patterns in the darkness. He rounded her corner, switched off the high beams, gunned it.

​

“Dude. Friends, enemies, people we know, people we will know or used to know before, they, like, they must pass right by us sometimes, like on the freeway going the opposite way or whatever."

"Sure, I bet it happens a lot. Like the other day I think I saw a dude from my elementary school maybe. I didn't say anything. We run into old friends and shit, where we least expect, like, 'Oh my God, what are you doing here?'"

"Yeah but no but it's the misses I'm talking about."

"Ah like a girl in a movie theater sits in front of the future father of her children?"

"Exactly."

"Or a dude unknowingly sells meth to the tweaker grandson of the asshole who tortured and killed his grandfather in World War Two?"

"Mm. Shooting-stars in the daytime."

​

Night shift finally ended. As she followed him deep into the parking lot he praised his personal god of coincidence, Kizmet the Hamster. As a little kid he had imagined (or discovered?) a pantheon to whom he would forever sacrifice logic and house-spiders, for whom he cultivated a devotion far beyond superstition or reverie.

"You don't like me much.”

She was slow to respond, busy noticing his scratched glasses.

"Nah not really."

Admiring her own bluntness she stretched the long night out of her wrists. Moths and mosquito hawks orbited the lights. Two barn owls huddled in a duct on the roof. They both took a deep breath. A killdeer screamed like a painted warrior. It looked up to study secret maps encoded in auroras. Instructing scouts upwind, the killdeer, a chief, cried reassemble. Five arrowhead bird-shadows slid south into the yard where cargo tanks rusted. They sat and sank more mass into each new winter’s mud like dented shields in Carthaginian grass.

Faking nonchalance and walking backwards he away fired one last time with,"Hey if I were you I wouldn't like me either." He smiled and savored a hint of the hidden shape of her body.

“Not everyone can like everybody." She slammed the truck door started her engine and massaged her own neck.

Cars tailgated and passed her truck the left. Neglecting the spectacular sunrise, replaying the day instead, planning ideal responses to future points in fantasy discussions, she missed the miracle of dawn’s lavender tongue licking up the last drops of darkness. One rare east amber cloud was swimming thinly through terraces of rising warmth. As she rounded her corner she yawned. The day broke and crowned. It tore the skin of the horizon and bled life upon the world.

​

He leaned weight into his fingers, massaging her neck. As she swiped through photos he glimpsed her recent roadkill thumbnails. He was at first mistaken in thinking they were photos of living creatures.

“Woah, go back.”

​

Cricket noise in the canyon reminded him of the whir and beeps of the warehouse equipment. Warm sweat marinated their two hands together. She saw the moon’s regretful expression through her ancestor-guardian-ibis-eyes. She artfully said so and asked him what he saw in the moon. Through misshapen corneas and scratched glasses, through flat windshield-insect-residue and crazy windblown mists he saw the moon sinking slow to sleep. He felt the pulse of destiny in his crotch and answered, "I have no words."

​

A blonde canyon tarantula is perplexed by the flatness of the road. Dyspeptic turkey vultures drink not of the creek.

War-flags aflutter the finch mobs and sentinel kestrels, the swallow reconnaissance and nomad meadowlarks and red wing blackbird bandits all vie to balance the sky. All the armies, with good and absolute reason, fear shrikes.

​

“You made up your own secret gods?”

“I guess so.”

“Do you pray to them?”

“When I was a kid I did.”

Quamatch joins a little town called Uverne to the canyon. The vignerons see it as the boundary—where school-skipping couples kiss, where truck-driving midnight johns drop condoms on the gravel, where proud gangs batter prospects into apostles—between zones.

The oaks along the creek-bed died soon after they paved the road. Those that stood out were nailed. Now termite craters freckle the nooks.

“Your eyes are in front, sockets forward.”

“Predatory primate.”

“And yeah, hawk sockets point forward but they can pretty much Exorcist their head all the way around.”

“But horned owls straight murder hawks. They jack ‘em in the dark.”

“Never thought of hawks as prey.”

“Everything’s prey.”

​

Sour vengeance festers in most crows. However the ravens are wiser than smart. They forget and forgive. Both peck and scissor the carrion and swallow the nested eggs of songbirds. Some mornings these cousins show mocking courtesy to the very sparrows whose offspring they digest.

She swiped back a few.

"Yeah. Poor thing. I think that was off Quamatch. The trucks haul ass through there."

"Ew, you got that close to a dead dog?”

“A coyote. Maybe a hybrid? Was a coyote.”

“What in the actual fuck? Ugh. I’m nauseous. I don’t want to see the rest.”

“To me each one of these photos is like a gravestone or something.”

“Obituary?”

“Epitat?”

“Effigy?”

​

“Kozmit’s helmet fits loose on his head. He’s an engineer in the classic, forgotten sense. He steers the big wheel of weird as we dance and die down here like spinning nickels.”

“He’s the god of synchronicity?”

“He’s also the god of gambling and profound road signage.”

“'Yield'.”

“Exactly.”

“‘Merge’.”

"One Way'."

“‘Be Prepared To Stop’.”

“Woah.”

​

After plucking for canyon ticks in the needles a wren sings riddles of melody pebbles with a tiny tongue of turquoise. It bluffs a marmot and retreats to preen deep in its family brambles.

​

A girl toddler smiled and asserted, “Two bewds.”

“Good job, baby. Two birds?”

“Two bewds fly a-moom.”

“Two birds fly to the moon?”

“Yeah.” The baby giggled with closed eyes. After a few seconds she reopened them smiling and blinking.

“Wow honey, that’s so silly.”

Fumbling bottles of lotion, water, and instant imitation breastmilk mom and dad heard distant croaks. They looked up to see, from above the mouth of a skeletal gray arroyo, two crows enter a cloudless sky and each slowly, eventually, directly cross the face of a daytime moon.

A long silence seemed to increase the wind.

“Ok did that just happen?”, asked mom.

“Yeah but I’m totally done with crazy shit right now. Let’s get the baby fed and changed and just go.”

Before removing a chubby arm from her eyes the baby said cheerfully, “Sleepy snake. Sleep in a tree. Silly snake sleep in a tree."

This prompted mom and dad to share an uncertain glance.

“Good job, baby.”

“Let’s just go. She ain’t hella wet or crying.”

“Still no cell service?”

“Spotty.”

​

​

​

​

J. Allen DeVera -- 2020

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[ecotone99]

[FN] Fantasy - Visitors Chapter 1

It's lonely up here, at the top of the world. Especially when the view is blocked by clouds in every direction.

I never wanted to be the strongest. I just wanted to protect people. I just wanted to save people.

Unfortunately I was terrible at it. So I left. I ran away.

I left the world I knew, and I didn't even seek another world to know. I just... found a mountain top to call home. I wasn't the most skilled carpenter, but I wasn't terrible at molding particles either. My teachers would have chided me for my lack of control, and “moderation of flow,” I think was the terminology used. After many failed attempts, and some manual labor, I had a dwelling, and even a sōzu. I felt at peace. Satisfied. I could simply sit, think, and not pay attention to anything else in the world.

Of course this is a lie. Mortal minds wander, even if you're dead. And there are always other people. Even in the farthest, most inhospitable tips of the world, where no sane human would venture, because really, there aren't /steps/ to climb, and if there are handholds you'd have to be a madman to grope in the mist for them.

But of course people exist, and there are some mad, venturous people who will visit you.

So it was one morning, that while I enjoyed some tea from my limited stock, my meditations were interrupted.

Truly you'd never have thought that this idiot would've made it up the mountain. Surely, anyone this foolish should've died to numerous other events that they dared venture into previously. But no, fate had spared him long enough for them to reach my humble abode.

"Can I help you?" I spoke, curious if this foreigner could even understand my tongue, or I his.

"Uhhh..." The word coming out of his mouth as he scanned the mountaintop was most likely stalling so he could conjure up something to say. I suppose I felt a certain pride that he was either impressed, or dumbfounded by the location. Anyone that needed to use feet to move certainly would have a hard time setting up a domicile here.

I maintained my kneeling position, bringing my hand up to my mouth to let out a polite cough, attempting to further along his brain processing. He took the cue, and finally managed to let out sentence, "Hey, do you live up here, all alone?"

I immediately suspected him of having a predatory nature, not that I should have anything to fear from this individual. If I had been at a disadvantage I may have lied, or refused to answer.

"Indeed. I dwell here by myself. Do you desire tea?" My stock was limited, but it would be rude not to offer such to a guest. And the language barrier apparently was no problem, though I was sure that we were both speaking tongues foreign to each other.

"Sure! Sorry for intruding like this, but, I didn't think anyone else would be up here! Like...I can't imagine living up here. Does... someone helicopter up supplies for you or something?" Amusing. I suppose it would be possible for a living person to reproduce the isolation in such a fashion. Such devices would break the tranquility, and I'm sure ruin much of the reason to be in a place such as this. My initial suspicion of him faded, it was an artifact of a mind once plagued with keeping order in a world left behind.

"Please, sit." I half invited, half ordered him to do. Truth be told I was looking forward to a chat. Also I did not want to explain to him what I had just explained to you about my nature. so I moved to one of my own questions. "What brings you up here?"

"Oh, I just thought that this looked like a good mountaintop to climb. Never really thought I'd find anything up here." He took a sip from a spare cup. "You know you could make a killing, catering to people who climb to places like this. Having something refreshing like this before the climb down, without having to lug it up here. It's a godsend."

Although it wasn't past certain agents to disguise themselves innocently like this to approach subjects, I did not detect a hint of treachery from this individual. Still, Second Branch had always been good at their jobs. "Do you plan on returning here?"

"I was going to climb a lot more mountains before the end of my vacation. But if any mountain deserves a return visit, it's definitely this one. Oh, I'm Ben."

I allowed my eyes to give a look of... scorn? Suspicion? I'd always been good at keeping my emotions in check, but perhaps I felt like such a carefree soul should be given some reminder that he may have wandered into a spider's den... or more fittingly a hawk's nest.

"Sen. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Feel free to rest as long as you need before your return journey. The stone can be quite slippery due to the mist, I would caution against climbing up again. The climb down will be treacherous as well." If this person called a helicopter for rescue it would be annoying for more people to be aware of this place. My smile returned and I did my best to dispel whatever impression I may have imparted with the previous gaze. "I do not mean to insult your skill, but are you sure you wish to risk it? Would it not be safer to call for a helicopter?"

"Nah, I've been doing this for a while. I'll be fine. Hey... do you actually live up here? I mean this is pretty out of the way. What do you do up here? Pretty sure you don't have wi-fi." Some passing concern in his voice. Adorable.

"I sit, I meditate, I relax. I contemplate the world, and everything I know, and imagine." It was most of the truth. I had gotten bored once, well, twice, and wandered down to a village or two just to finally explore the surroundings. And sample some food. Despite not needing typical nourishment, the human mind never forgets the taste of sweets.

"Hah, I guess that makes you a wiseman of the mountain, Wisewoman. Yah. Have any spiritual insight to share? Could always use more wisdom." If he actually believed in his own words, he wasn't an idiot. Unfortunately I was fairly certain that he was just making conversation.

"What meaning does death have, if there is just life after? And why is life so painful?" I was ambiguous of course about which life I was speaking of. I mean both had been painful I was sure, although I only had memories of this second, spiritual life.

"I don't know. I don't think it has to be though. Just gotta let things go." One of the old me's might've thrown him off the cliff just then. Or at least have given him a good toss into the air. Then again he was alive, and I'm sure he couldn't take the punishment, unlike my fellow spirits. I missed them. All of them. All of my friends from back then.

"And if you can't?"

"Well, if I had a guess. I'd say that even if you can't, hiding in the middle of nowhere won't help you try to let them." He looked a bit apologetic after he said those words, and I believed it sincere. "Sorry. I'll leave now."

"No need." I stood up and turned my back. "Stay as long as you like." I was definitely impolite in leaving him to sit alone, as I attended to some cleaning that happened to be available to distract myself with.

Wisely, he finished the tea with a gulp, and headed for a cliffside. There was no chance that I would try to kill him, but I did feel the impulse, and maybe so did he. More likely he was just cognizant enough to realize he had outstayed his welcome, and wished to avoid anymore unpleasantness. Perhaps now he wouldn't return. That would be for the best.

He did not say goodbye, and I listened to him scale back down, making sure he made it.I heard no cry for help that might've come if he had his grip, so I could've assumed he made it. Just in case I darted down, and peered from a distance to make sure he was walking away from the mountain along a path. He was fine.

(Upon reflection for finishing this part, I was always told to limit "I" and "me" and other pronouns back in school. However I want to talk from first person naturally, and it feels like I would use those words if writing from that perspective. Should I still try to avoid them? Thank you for your time if you do read this.)

-D.Xi

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