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starry-bi-sky · 3 months

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fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

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Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions.

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food."

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy.

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him.

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that."

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again.

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?)

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately."

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up.

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly.

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from.

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite.

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing.

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.”

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows.

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?”

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?”

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.”

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human.

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved.

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.”

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything?

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted.

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

#dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #first danny pov of the au! whoo!#danny's hair turns white if he drinks ectoplasm brrrrr and his eyes turn green. good for him #this sat in my drafts for the last few days until i finally finished it during class #it was a math class and i already knew the material so tis fiiiine. now i just need to finish my CFAU post rewrite :)#ectoplasm tastes like that time i went to go get pepsi from the soda machine and it was all out of the pepsi flavoring so instead i got a #cup full of carbonated liquid. it was disgusting. ectoplasm kinda tastes like that. sometimes.#danny smiles in this more than i thought he would but yk it fits. he IS more smiley around his friends and family.#ectoplasm is a weird non-newtonion fluid and danny is fascinated. its got the consistency of egg whites one minute and then water the next #its a water slime and then suddenly its as brittle as annealed glass. it heats up and rots like milk or it heats up and boils like water #it congeals. it thickens. it boils. it solidifies. it does whatever it wants. it gels and melts into a tar-like substance #how long has damian been standing there? good question. :) i almost had him open the door and make eye contact with damian before falling #backwards. i also almost had it be *bruce* and damian opening the door bc bruce found out that damian pulled a knife on sam and was gonna #have him come apologize. that would be a fun scene. prolonged eye contact prolonged eye contact prolonged eye contact #imagery brrrr. had fun playing with how danny's ghost form works. if anyone has seen a video of steel wool burning thats how i imagine #danny's ghost transformation to be like.#also ayyy balancing danny's dialogue be like “how fancy should he sound and how Normal Teenager Should He Sound”#when sam gets home she catches tucker up to speed about everything including the convos with the waynes she had and they both form the #'“Fuck Them Waynes” squad. Sam has jumped to the entirely wrong conclusion about danny's separation from his family but in her defense.#it is a pretty sound conclusion to jump to considering the lack of context she has from danny's prior home life. which is almost none at al #so to her it looks like danny got abandoned by bruce wayne

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venusinta · 5 months

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💗 i see girls in bikinis, girls in bikinis with roller skates (in outer space)~ 🎶

#arashi narukami #hiyori tomoe #jun sazanami #enstars #ensemble stars #venus.art #arashi posting #IM HAPPY TO HAVE FINALLY FINISHED THIS #ive planned to draw this for a yr or so alr but i only got around to doing it now #it was supposed to be nrsn #but with the made me story i was like ehe nrjn... and now its nrhyjn. theyre a polycule

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astarkey · 3 months

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Tom Savini as Sex Machine in From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)

#tom savini #from dusk till dawn #usercy #userfreja #filmedit #movieedit #my edit #finally got around to finish this when I was supposed to post this last year #HE has always been MY sex machine #and I will always throw shade at the show for doing him so wrong because he was always my fav in the movie

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tomaturtles · 1 month

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Happy Campus Apocalypse volume 1 16th anniversary here's something to celebrate

#shinji ikari #kaworu nagisa #asuka langley soryu #rei ayanami #kawoshin #asurei #neon genesis evangelion #campus apocalypse #nge #nge ca #toma edits #toma draws #<-KINDA? i edited them in on the first one but i spent more time on it than i needed to so im counting it #why did tumblr post the version from before i updated the tags and description. im losing my mind #ANYWAY full disclosure i only found out abt the anniversary earlier today via angelduets/the kawoshin bot on twitter #BUT i finished this set last night so!! excellent timing #i made the last one weeks ago and never got around to posting it but i was making memes for other purposes the other day #and did some ca themed ones while i was at it... now it can finally see the light of day #i actually also made a non ca version of the kawo&asu one a while back (did i even post that here i forget)#but they're actually friends in canon here so it fits More i think #there's another asurei one i wanted to make but i gotta fully draw that one so! it'll have to wait

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brother-emperors · 1 year

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WHAT DOOM FOR YOU?

back again with my Please Read The Thebaid Agenda! I adapted the ending of Book VII into a comic because oh boy. thoughts thoughts thoughts.

There is a horror in having yourself altered to such a degree where you are unrecognizable in your own self, to know that it is happening, to know that you should be dead and yet you are not. You have already seen the moment of your death!!!! (Stat. Theb. 3.537 – 47) There's a horror in knowing, and in it being treated as an act of love when it's really more like a violation. Amphiaraus is spared Creon's decree, but by falling into the underworld, it makes things worse on a cosmic scale.

Statius' Thebaid Book VII, trans. Jane Wilson Joyce

Statius and Virgil: The Thebaid and the Reinterpretation of the Aeneid, Randall T. Ganiban

Statius' Thebaid and the Poetics of Civil War, Charles McNelis

The Perils of Prophecy: Statius' Amphiaraus and His Literary Antecedents, E. Fantham

society6 | ko-fi | twitter (pillowfort, cohost) | deviantart

#the thebaid #it's all greek to me #komiks tag #long post #amphiaraus #wheezing i actually started this last year; i only JUST got around to finally finishing/formatting it all #anyway please read the thebaid it's so good #theres something about apollo perpetuating cycles of violence as a catalyst for it u know.#in book one they recount how apollo's rape of a king's daughter is what set in motion the events that led to current rituals #and then with amphiaraus the collapsing of borders between the 3 realms dragging the cosmic in to the war #the war that mars himself looked away from in disgust!!!!

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lorephobic · 4 months

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been thinking about how in a couple of different interviews, barry has brought up that he played five different olivers chronologically thru the movie. i've been fiddling with my theories as to where each oliver ends and a new one begins and have roughly landed here but would love to hear other ideas:

oliver 1: oxford, watching and wanting felix. an outsider, batting up against the window, just desperate to get in. begins observing everything: details of felix's life, details of farleigh's life, begins orchestrating his performance for felix, setting the stage for whatever will get him into the spotlight.

oliver 2: saltburn, pre-bathtub, the best few months of his life, living in felix's light. this is the dream. he will cling onto it and comb over it and jerk off to it and wonder how he could ever get it back.

oliver 3: saltburn, post-bathtub, post-pamela, understanding how precarious his position is, losing felix quickly, making risky, desperate moves in an attempt to regain his attention. eating holes in everything and becoming a toy that felix doesn't want to play with anymore.

oliver 4: saltburn, post-confession, post-licking-the-fucking-plate, confused by his own obsession and pivoting toward preserving and not letting anyone remove him from what he thinks is rightfully his: felix's space and felix's role and felix's memory

oliver 5: post-post-saltburn, monologuing to his final victim, justifying his actions in any way possible, an obsession that has festered for more than a decade, re-realized in his obsession with his self and his work. oliver in his most catton-like state. denying that the desire was ever there. has a complete and utter horror of the ugliness he's committed. a beautiful man in his beautiful house, surrounded by beautiful things. finally free from want.

#saltburn #i think it'd be super easy to make the argument that theres actually two different olivers presented in oxford #but i think this is like. an opinion you have while you're watching the movie for the first time.#your first impression SHOULD be that oliver is changed. but by the time you finish the movie #you know that he's always been this way. always dying to get in.#he was simultaneously always and never the quiet scholar that we thought he was in the beginning ykwim #he was something else entirely #saltburn posting #okayyyy #finally got this stupid post out thats been rolling around in my brain for days #thats enough work for today i can go to bed now #love u all mwah

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arcadechan · 10 months

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ok. SHE.

Fern lives in a country with a giant magical forest. The people live alongside this forest in relative harmony, thanks to the efforts of the Lumberjacks. The forest has a tendency to spread, and overgrown parts spawn monsters. Fern is in charge of the Westside; cutting down lumber, hunting monters, clearing trails, and so on. She loves her job.

#oc #oc: fern #orc #orc lady #dnd #fantasy creature #i have been...trying very hard to update at least a COUPLE profiles for art fight #I got the lines down for a couple a while ago and finally got around to finishing them.#so enjoy a third post for the day !!#this is probably going to be blurry....boo #terato

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sonic-adventure-3 · 1 year

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short

#link leads to my post that spawned this #my art #shadow #sth #shadow the hedgehog #I SWEAR IM GONNA DRAW HIM ON CONTRABASS CLARINET TOO CAUSE ITS FUNNIER #I JUST STARTED WORKING ON THIS BEFORE I HAD THAT IDEA AND I FINALLY GOT AROUND TO FINISHING IT #you can tell i put in effort to get the body of the bass mostly right but i gave up on the strings lmao #art’s been hard lately idk

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cinnamonest · 2 years

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Sorry for the error to anyone receiving two notifs for the same post, I just posted this, noticed an error as soon as I did, and tried to edit the post, but it kept spinning and the chrome page encountered an error and closed, so I’m just going to repost.

The Childe high school teacher post and the last babysitter post has reignited my age gap love, I might make a sort of series eventually but for now I haven't done any Xiaoposting™ in a while so have this

//Age gap, HS teacher/student, alcohol consumption, drugging

(Also I know various places have a teacher-rotational schedule and not a student-rotational schedule but I just made it the latter because it worked better with the idea here, sorry)

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On the bright side, working at one of these uppity private schools has its advantages. Better pay, more well-behaved kids, better facilities. The downsides are the snobbishness of some of the kids, and the area is not the best of climates, but it's worth the pay.

Regardless, wherever you go, to some extent there will always be the same types of students. As a teacher, you can predict that, with each incoming class, there will always be one or two students who fall into a specific role. There's always at least one that, without fail, fills a particular "spot" of sorts. Even at a rich kid school, there's still athletic jerks and social butterflies and computer nerds and every other archetype you can think of. Some are more difficult than others, but you think you're adequately prepared to deal with whatever may come your way.

Your subject is one of those standard classes, mandatory for each student to take, broad and standardized. So it's not like any one particular type of student takes it, unlike electives like art or theatre or specialty classes like advanced maths or sciences, no, you get all sorts of personalities. Not to mention you get a wide variety of investment levels -- some care, they're enthusiastic and enjoy the subject, some try their best but aren't particularly interested, and then some could not care less, putting in minimal effort, constantly checking the clock waiting for it to be over.

You can tell a lot about individual students without ever having to speak to them, it's just in the way they walk, dress, their posture, where they choose to sit, their handwriting, the light (or lack thereof) in their eyes. You can even make pretty accurate assumptions about their personal wellness, home life, aspirations, personality, interests, and so on. Not that you don't also love getting to know each one as an individual, of course, you're particularly excited to meet and memorize each new face and name, and the individual attached.

On the first day, the first student to enter homeroom actually comes into the room well before it's time to start the day. Most of the others are taking a bit of time, since many are talking to and reuniting with friends they haven't seen in a few months. There are, in your experience, two reasons why this can happen -- either he's new and for some reason transferred to a different school for his final year of high school, or, he is simply, as you would call it it, "that kid."

It becomes almost immediately evident that it is the latter.

He doesn't say anything himself, and almost seems startled when you chime a quick good morning! at him. He just looks up at you for a brief second, nods in acknowledgement, and then makes a direct beeline for that one seat in the far back corner of the room. Reaches it, sets his bag down with a heavy thud, and then sits down and slouches over. Right. You can make a few guesses about him, just from that brief interaction.

You do pay attention to behaviors, of course, you're in this occupation because you do care and want to enrich the kids' lives and support them and all of that, so you're certain you'll learn his character as you do everyone else's. He just... fits a certain profile. The messy uniform presentation (shirt not tucked in, shoes all scuffed up, and so on), the dark undereye circles, the slouching posture, the silent brooding demeanor. Everything fits perfectly for that one particular type of student.

You're perfectly on the mark, too. In the coming days, Xiao proves to perfectly fit the idea you had in your head of what he'd be like.

He just weakly raises a hand during roll-call for homeroom, doesn't say "here" or anything at all. In your actual class, when you assign the occasional breakout group work, letting students pair up or get into small groups to complete an in-class assignment, he always chooses to do it by himself. Every take-home assignment is turned in horrendously crumpled or creased -- you've directly witnessed the fact that he just loosely stuffs all books and papers into his bag. Messy, but still legible handwriting. Everything lines up with the assumptions you made from the first few seconds of meeting him.

But he's not a bad kid. Even if sometimes he turns things in a day late, he stills turns in everything nonetheless. Granted, his grades are not... the best, but he's not failing, and you can tell he's trying. That's what matters, isn't it?

You also try to pay attention to and keep tabs on students that seem to struggle a bit socially, so before long he's essentially your number one subject for said observations. You've never seen him interact with someone by choice. He's in this odd middle ground where he's certainly not popular, in fact you're pretty sure he doesn't have any friends... Yet, he blends into the background very well and doesn't stand out at all, so he's not getting bullied or anything either. The usual bully types find him too boring to pick on. They certainly tried; back in the middle school years they found that picking on him didn't give them the reactions they were trying to invoke. He just sighed and ignored them, so they quickly moved on to more entertaining victims, and now they no longer even acknowledge he exists, much less try to mess with him.

Equally concerningly, and perhaps most frustrating, considering the time and effort you put in, is a slight academic challenge. He does try and all, but he's not the most attentive student, has a tendency to visibly space out and get lost in thought, completely blank thousand-yard stare. Usually when you call on him, you can see him snap out of it, and he more or less proves that he was in fact zoned out, because he needs you to repeat the question, and is observably completely lost. Other times, he just looks like he's on the verge of falling asleep. You figure part of it is certainly due to sitting so far away from the front.

However, this issue thankfully is similar in nature to another issue you have with some other students -- since you let your students sit where they want, of course most students will sit next to friends. The issue being that, predictably, this leads to a lot of distractions and disruptions, costing you precious time and all. You hate to upset anyone, but for the sake of productivity, you move them around and make a seating chart, a few weeks in.

It occurs to you that perhaps this could be an opportunity to get him into a spot where he has more chances to interact, out of his shell so to speak, and a brighter spot to help him not space out. Oh, you could put him next to one of those sympathetic, super social types that goes out of their way to reach out to the loner types and be their friend. That would be helpful, right? That's totally not an introvert's worst nightmare or anything. Thus, you leave a chart displayed at the front of the class the next day, so everyone can find their spot.

You'd think you shot him in the chest, you can see his facial expression go through the five stages of grief when he sees it. Having to give up the treasured, the sacred, the prized back corner seat? To sit in the FRONT? Are you out of your mind? Not to mention, the back corner has a tall supply cabinet along the wall that casts a comforting shadow over him at all times, and now you're demanding he sit directly beneath the light. AND you put him next to one of those bright eyed, high-energy people who's going to go out of their way to -- unsolicitedly! -- force their acquaintanceship upon him out of pity. He's not even next to a wall, meaning he has people on both sides. What kind of sadistic pleasure do you take from this.

But begrudgingly, he sluggishly grasps the top of his backpack and drags it along the ground to the front seat, and sits without protest, although he certainly has a mopey expression for the days to come.

You still check on him to ensure your choice had some positive effect... or maybe not. As expected, the outgoing kid you put him next to insists on working with him, but every time you look over said kid is talking a mile a minute, while he just sits still and silent with a glazed-over thousand yard stare... maybe that wasn't the best move...? At least it counts for interaction.

You ask around a bit, talk to other teachers who have had him as as student for years, and they all say the same thing. He's just like that. Nonetheless, you can't help but feel some concern. Frankly, as weeks pass, you do worry a bit. He just has a constant melancholy vibe, gives off this air of depression and loneliness, and you can't help but wonder if maybe something is wrong, if he needs help in some way. In your experience, there's always some kids who really do need help, be it related to their home life or their friends or just their sense of self, and it's just as much your job to ensure their prosperity in life as much as in academics, right?

So you do something about it. You ask him to stay behind for just a minute after a class -- at first, he seems nervous, thinks he's done something wrong, awkwardly fidgeting. But he seems a bit surprised when you ask him a gentle is everything okay? You just seem down, I was just wondering if I can help...

He shakes his head, mumbles out that he's fine. Nothing wrong. Really. He keeps his eyes glued to the ground as he speaks. You can sense he's probably uncomfortable, so you dismiss him after that. But not without giving a quick reassurance.

If you ever want to talk, you can always come find me, okay?

He nods. Still doesn't look at you, his eyes just dart from wall to wall. He leaves -- more like scampers away as fast as possible -- when you finish speaking. You're fairly certain he was barely listening, and will completely disregard you, even maybe doesn't have anything wrong. Maybe talking to him wasn't the best idea, even, he might have just found it awkward or strange... so you assume he won't actually take you up on the offer.

Until he does.

It's after school lets out and most kids have already started to go home, a few days after your interaction, you're just sitting at your desk and typing when you hear footsteps coming up to your door. Then they pause, and move back in the other direction, then back towards you again, then away again, as if the person in question can't make up their mind and is hesitating... But finally, you see his head quietly peek around the doorframe, quickly retreating when you look up, but coming back around again when you tell him to come in.

He's awkward and quiet as he makes his way in, stands there stiffly in front of the desk until you encourage him to sit down. He sits backwards in a chair, folding his arms over the back and resting his head on top of them, legs sprawled out. You try to make him feel more comfortable by smiling and speaking in a soft voice. So, what's going on? Did you have something you wanted to say?

He pauses for a moment. He still doesn't look you in the eye, fixating his gaze instead on where he has his hands clutched together against the back of the seat.

...What are you working on?

He doesn't seem to actually have any sort of problem he wanted to talk about, no, he just wanted to talk to you, apparently...? You were expecting venting or dumping heavy emotional stuff on you, but it turns out he just asks about your work. What class is that for? Do you like that class? What's your favorite class you teach? Do you have a lot of work? Are you usually here late? He asks each question one by one in a fairly low voice, and then waits for you to answer. And then waits quietly a little more, as if waiting for you to say more, prompting you to continue speaking, and only then does he move onto the next question. All in all, you end up having to fill several minutes of what would otherwise be silence before he asks another short question. You continue this back-and-forth for quite a while.

A normal conversation is not exactly what you had in mind when you said you could talk, but you figure that this undoubtedly still helps, just having someone to talk to can have a positive impact on someone's life. Maybe he doesn't want to talk about specific things bothering him, or isn't ready to yet, you think, but he still wants some kind of connection and interaction. When someone is depressed or upset, just having a person to talk to is good for the mind, so you've heard. So you're still helping, you reason.

Eventually, though, after a few hours pass, you do need to go... You softly ask if it's okay if you can continue tomorrow. He nods, seemingly startled by realizing how much time passed, and apologizes for taking up so much of your time, but you reassure him that it's no trouble at all and that you'd love to continue talking tomorrow. You don't want to discourage him or make him feel unwelcomed, of course, so you emphasize that you'd want to continue. It's good for him, right? Clearly this talk was helpful to him in some way. Emotional support and all that.

He does come back the next day, but still has nothing in particular to speak of, just more general questions and light conversation. You don't give him the same talk at the end of the day about how he could come back tomorrow, but you assume he knows he's welcome. But he seems to be in a better mood, so you think maybe you've effectively accomplished helping him.

Except he does come back a third time anyway, which is totally fine of course. This time, he comes to your door during the lunch period, asking if it's okay to eat in here with you (rather than the empty classroom he usually finds a quiet place in), and of course you say it's fine. No big deal, you don't mind. He... still comes back after school as well, though.

And that repeats the next day. And the next day. And the... next... day...

You quickly realize there has been a bit of a misunderstanding. What you meant was that if he had some kind of problem, he should come talk to you about it... but apparently he interpreted your words to mean you were open to regular conversation on a daily basis. That is, if it can even be called "conversation," since it's mostly him asking random questions and you answering. And if your answer is short, much like the first time, he just sits silently waiting for you to say more, so you've learned to draw out and elaborate on your answers. You figured at first that he would eventually come out of his shell so to speak and talk more, and he is, just... very slowly. After your first conversation, he starts to speak at a normal volume and with much less awkwardness, which is a good start, it's just still a very solemn tone... that you soon realize is just his normal voice.

Still, you don't mind. You're helping. You're doing something good. So you aren't bothered at all. You smile and engage with him and try to make him feel comfortable and listened to.

And he latches on like a leech.

Every day now, like clockwork, when the lunch bell rings, you have a matter of a few minutes before he quietly shuffles his way into your room for your daily talks. And once the final bell of the day rings, sure enough, once again it's only a short time before he appears at your door again. It's always the same routine, he comes to sit at the same chair, sits the same way, hunched over with his head resting on his folded arms, sleeves muffling his voice. He asks about your day first, each and every time. And likewise, each and every time, you give the courtesy of repeating the question back to him, only for him to respond the same way: 'good.' On rare occasions, if something particularly interesting happened, or if something is especially irritating him, you might get a longer answer, but never more than a few sentences. He's far more interested in listening to you, but you do want to get him to open up as well.

Which you do, to the best of your ability. It's difficult at first to converse with someone who's average number of words per sentence could be counted on one hand, but you find ways over time. The trick is to get him onto something he likes, and then he lights up a bit, and will talk much more. You've learned how to distinguish his emotions -- he doesn't emote very much, doesn't really smile or talk excitedly, rather, you've learned the tells of happiness for him: his eyes get a bit wider, and he speaks a bit louder, and in several sentences at a time, even though his facial expression and tone stay about the same.

You've even been able to get him to ramble a bit by asking about those games he always carries around with him, since he's fond of bringing one of those handheld consoles to school each day and pulling it out at every conceivable opportunity rather than, you know, speak to another human being. You have absolutely no idea what he's talking about, but it makes him happy, and you're glad to see him actually look excited and enthusiastic about something.

You still do worry for his sake on a wide variety of matters, though, because that's more or less the only thing he's particularly invested in. You briefly asked him what he plans to do after graduating, which only earned a shrug and an I don't know. He doesn't seem particularly concerned about the matter either. You're fairly certain he hasn't spent a single second thinking about his future in any way.

Not to mention his physical health. He reveals, through a bit of prodding about his attentiveness tendencies, that he gets an average of maybe four hours of sleep at night due to staying up... but it's okay! They have energy drinks in the hall vending machines, especially helpful since his body has developed such a tolerance for sugar that soda is no longer enough to keep him awake. After you express concern, he reassures you that he limits himself to less than five a day, not to mention, he drinks water too, which balances it out so that the sugar he drinks doesn't have any negative effects... or something like that. You make a mental note that the sciences appear to not be his strong suit.

Another factor for your concern is that it turns out he lives all by himself. His father is some big important business type, always off on work trips and only home once a month or so, so he spends all that time in the evenings alone. You can't help but worry about what effects that level of isolation would have. You at least assumed that he was going home at the end of the day and got to talk to parents or maybe siblings if he had had any, but after learning about his living situation, you realize that that means you are more or less the only person he has any significant interaction with.

It's quite frequent interaction, though. He has a quiet but constant presence. Often, he ends up startling you, since he has such quiet footsteps and lingers silently beside you until you turn your head and jolt because you didn't even realize he was there. But he's there, by your side. He's always, always there. There's school events where they gather everyone into an auditorium, and no matter where you sit, he soon finds his way to you (he's supposed to sit with his current class, but you let it slide). There's those sports festival or field day type of events, too, during which he's always sneaking off to come be with you, and it's too much of a bother for the other faculty to come looking for him, even if they notice his absence. Even once when there was a fire drill, he slinked off from his own class and came over to talk to you... that time it actually did cause quite the inconvenience when he wasn't present for the head count, and the other teacher ended up panicking looking for who was missing for a good ten minutes.

Despite all the time spent by your side, you feel a bit guilty when you have to leave for the day. He stays until you dictate otherwise, and it's always awkward when you finally have to gently make it clear that you need to go home for the evening, and that by extension he should go home too. If you didn't decide when you both leave, you're pretty sure he would just stay indefinitely.

On the bright side, he's very low-energy, doesn't drain you quite like a lot of students would. And he helps! The first time you casually asked a quick 'hey, would you mind going over to that cabinet over there and handing me the stapler?', you're pretty sure he nearly knocked the chair over with the speed he moved to perform the task. If you ever need anything at all, he always scurries off to drop off some papers to the front office or pick up this or that from the printer or whatever it is that you need. You're pretty sure it makes him happy to feel useful, so you get him to help with those simple tasks pretty often.

Sometimes you run out of things to talk about, and end up just sitting in silence. Sometimes he has things to work on, homework to do... and sometimes he doesn't. In which case, he simply likes to stare. It's unnerving, to say the least. Sometimes you're almost glad when another student comes in to disrupt the silence.

Which is an issue in and of itself. Xiao is only one of many students you teach.

Other kids need help just as much. They come to you for help during study halls or after school... but now, they start coming less and less often. Either they pass by your door and see you're sort of occupied and don't want to interrupt what they assume is you assisting someone else, or, as you're starting to realize, they're a bit intimidated. The few times students do come in to ask a quick question or drop something off, you see their eyes dart to the side of you before they stiffen up, and soon after seem in a rush to leave. You're not even the one on the receiving end, and you're not looking in that direction, but you can feel his glare from beside you.

Which, in his mind, is fully justified. They're taking his time with you away. Every second counts. You were having an important conversation (or silence, but that's still an important moment between you two), and this person just outright barges in and interrupts with no shame? The ones who just drop things off are perhaps forgivable, but others come in and consume literal minutes of your time together. They even sometimes make quick small talk or a joke or something like that and try to consume your time for pointless reasons.

Hmph. As if they have put in nearly the amount of time he has with you as if they know you well enough that they can be doing such things. They don't even know where you're from, your birthday, your favorite foods, your habits, none of the things he's learned either by observation or pried out of you with his many questions. It's unfair that they can talk to you so casually, when they aren't nearly as close to you as he is, haven't put in the time with you he has. The privilege to be so casual and friendly with you feels like something that should be earned, and he's the only person who has earned such a thing. Since when have any of them put in effort to get to know you? And more importantly, have any of them ever received a direct invitation to talk to you? Of course not. They and himself are on completely different levels, but these kids want to act like they have just as much of a right to such interactions when there is such a clear distinction between them.

Besides, they can talk to anyone. They have families to go home to, friends to talk to, anytime they want, and yet they still feel the need to intrude on what little he has to himself. It's bothersome. So of course he can't help but glare at them. They're clearly bothering you, too. You're just so nice you don't tell them to leave. But they should know better than to waste your precious time. Don't they know you have work to do? It's incredibly inconsiderate to just assume they can consume your time like that. But you're so sweet, you wouldn't want to send them away, so he tolerates them. Barely.

On your end, your worries only grow and expand. Not that you don't enjoy your time with him, because you do, it's just that it can't be good for him to have no peer interaction with people his age. Not to mention, he's developing a blatant dependency issue. You once remembered to tell him the day beforehand that you would be taking a day off for family related matters and would have a substitute, and his face looked as if you had told him you were quitting permanently, almost distraught. Even the day you come back, he's at school early, standing in the front lobby, staring out into the parking lot to see when you come in, and strides up to you the moment you enter... a habit that, from that day forward, becomes the norm. That incident in particular strikes you as one where you really began to feel... overwhelmed by him.

You don't mind the arrangement you've fallen into, no, you're happy he trusts you and wants to talk to you and all, and he's a sweet boy, it's just... it's... it's a bit too much. And you have things to do, and you really can't afford to be doing this every day. You have actual work that needs to be completed, and due to your time with him, you end up having to take additional work home with you. You often stay up late working on various tasks, and you get home much later than you'd like.

But you don't have the heart to tell him that. The fact that he keeps coming back means that this is important to him, and you can tell he's eager for each day's conversation. He's obviously attention-starved and desperate for any notion of affection and praise. You can't bring yourself to push him away in any capacity. So, you simply deal with it.

There's one more big, glaring issue, though, that you feel gradually creeping up, one you can't just deal with. The most significant one, actually. You begin to sense it early on, you try to ignore it. You've heard of similar situations happening to teachers, and tell yourself maybe you're being paranoid after hearing of those, and reassure yourself it's not like that.

But it's hard to feel like it's not like that.

You're not sure if he's trying to or not, but even if he is, he's doing a terrible job. Even besides just his general obsessive attachment and need to be in your presence. He comes right up to you and stands beside you regardless of who is around. In fact, seeing you talk to someone else more or less ensures he'll latch himself by your side within seconds. He has a blatant glare and creates a tense aura emanating from him towards whoever the other person may be, be it a student, another teacher, a faculty member, anyone. You've gotten phone calls, even, during your time together, and he always seems to find it appropriate to ask who the other person was and what they wanted to talk about the moment you hang up.

As time goes on, he starts to increasingly get far too physically close, to where you're almost touching. He's always in your room at every opportunity, always trailing you. Every single second class isn't in session, wherever you are, he's certain to be right there too. Even more time passes, and he gets even closer, sometimes to where you brush up against each other. At various school events, he starts to sit closer and closer to you on the benches or bleachers, closer and closer still until eventually it reaches a point where your thighs just barely touch. You resolve to not say anything for now... you're not sure how to.

He's desperate for the slightest notions of approval and affection. One time, more subconsciously than anything as you were focused on something you were reading on your desk, you had him get something for you and, after a brief thanks, you reached out and patted the top of his head. You felt him freeze up and go wide-eyed, and he stood stiff for several moments before sitting back down. At first you thought it was unpleasant, and thus tried to remember not to do that again, but the next time he completed a task for you, he sort of... leaned forward and tilted his head down just a bit... just ever so slightly... you took the hint, and now it's become a habit.

He even brings gifts. You offhandedly mentioned you liked some certain snack and sure enough, there was a bag of it on your desk the very next day. On one occasion, specifically your birthday (his knowledge of which was apparently acquired through some unknown means), he even bought you a gift, a small necklace. You told him it was unnecessary, but he kept insisting, so you did take it... only to realize it was solid gold, and that while he removed the primary tag on the front, he forgot to scratch off the jaw-dropping price tag on the bottom side. You're in an awkward position, you can't give it back, that would hurt him, and yet you feel horribly guilty. You just resolve to wear it each day so he knows it's appreciated. It just adds to the growing gnawing feeling that this is getting out of hand, but you don't know what to do without hurting him in some way.

But more importantly, all of these occurrences serve to more or less confirm the creeping and very rapidly growing feeling that it is, indeed, like that. And that is a problem you do not know how to go about dealing with.

It doesn't take long for people to notice. They cast glances whenever you two are together, whisper back and forth. Even the other teachers do it. When you walk from place to place with him quietly following behind like a duckling, as is the usual, you can see some kids smile in amusement and snicker amongst themselves. You knew it was coming, but still feel horrifically embarrassed when you're pulled into the supervisor's office to talk about the matter, being told that other teachers and students alike have picked up on it. You have to reassure the headmaster over and over that there is nothing illicit going on, and promise you're actively trying to address the problem, and they finally let you go under the assurance that you're handling it. You feel you're reaching a breaking point.

And as for him... he knows it's all pity. He knows he's starting to become annoying. He knows he's burdening you. But he can't help it, can't bring himself to stop. You're so nice. You make him feel special and appreciated. You make him feel warm and happy, like a sort of chemical high that's utterly addicting.

But he's also worried. Time is passing quickly. Months go by. The end of your days together is approaching quickly. And then what?

Well, he can deal with that when the time comes. He'll just... have to convince you to keep seeing him outside of school. Which will be awkward. But he can do it. And he can probably convince you to agree to it. Hopefully. Maybe then... he doesn't allow himself to indulge in unrealistic fantasies, but maybe, just maybe, he can hope for something to work out.

Or so he thinks, until you off-handedly mention something one day that completely changes everything.

You're excited to see his class graduate, you say, on one afternoon like any other, towards the very end of the year.. You say you're really proud of them all (and him especially, you add), and that it's an exciting new chapter of their lives, blah blah... and that you're glad you got to have this year here, seeing as you'll be moving to a new school next year.

Oh. Well, that's not too bad. It's probably that other private school nearby, right? So he asks. But you say no. No, it's much further. You're moving completely, out of the area and all.

You can't miss the expression on his face, distraught as if you just told him the most horrible news in the world. But you'll keep in touch, you add quickly to reassure him (even if you have no real intention to do so -- surely he'll have moved on by that point, after all). Besides, he'll probably be somewhere else anyway, soon enough.

His face softens. He shrugs. I guess so... but you can't help but think he seems unusually tense, even for the rest of the day, and well into the next few days. Surely it's not that bad, right? He already wouldn't be able to see you every day anyway... well, you're at least fairly confident he wasn't planning on coming in to visit you daily even next year, although you can't say that with complete certainty.

Once he gets out into the world, you tell yourself, he'll move on and forget about you. He'll find someone his own age and be happy. You think. You hope. It won't be a problem. Surely, even if he does have some raging teacher crush, he knows it will always be just that, and he acknowledges it's unrealistic, you're sure.

So when he makes a request of you a few days later, even one that might be a bit questionable, you agree.

See, he has no one coming to see him graduate, he tells you, his father is busy, so... you know how everyone else goes out to celebrate with their parents and stuff? Maybe... if you don't have anything to do...

He's never been quite so forward. But that must mean it means a lot to him, and it hurts your heart to think he'd be alone that night, so you agree. It won't be too bad. And after that... well, graduation night is pretty much the last time you'll ever see him anyway. It can't hurt.

So you agree. You attend the ceremony and all that, meet up with him afterwards. You expect him to be happy, big life milestone and all that.

But he seems somehow more quiet than usual. Almost nervous, even. Looking all around, avoiding eye contact, mumbling, barely speaking... he's a bit shaky, even, you can see his arms tremble a bit. He says he'll take you "there", which you assume to be some place of choice to either eat or drink or something along those lines. See, he even borrowed his father's car this time! After dropping the keys and failing to insert them correctly several times due to trembling hands, he manages to drive you away into... a not very urban area... it's actually getting quite rural... you only realize as you turn into a driveway that he actually, in fact, meant his house. Ah. That, well, that's not what you were anticipating, but... you're already here, and you'd crush his heart if you refused so...

It does cross your mind that a lesser person doing this might be intentionally manipulating their knowledge of your pity to encroach on your boundaries, push you into a position where you can't bring yourself to say no. But then you think back to all the time together... he's overly-attached, sure, but he's good. A good kid. He wouldn't... do that. He's just socially lacking in awareness and all that, doesn't realize that this was probably an inappropriate move. But technically, he's no longer your student, so... you can let this slide this time.

You're reminded that there's a reason he's at the school he is -- the place is very expansive and ornate. He almost seems out-of-place, in a way, it's almost as if it's unfitting for him, despite it literally being his house. He's still very jittery, nervous in his movements. He's probably not used to having people here, you assume. He says something about getting you something, that his father keeps a bunch of wines somewhere around here... and he's off before you can say it's unnecessary, footsteps thumping down the stairs to a basement. He comes up with a bottle in hand, walks into another room you assume is a kitchen, since you can't see inside. Comes back a few moments later, glass in hand, extends it out to you. His movements are mechanical, almost, hyperfocused on the task, forced and rushed. You smile and thank him in some attempt to calm his nerves or whatever is making him behave so tensely. It seems so... strange. He's always been not talkative, yes, and awkward, certainly, but he was never the type to be so anxious, not outwardly at least.

He's staring very intently at your hands that grasp the glass. Probably wondering if you'll like whatever it is. It's rather nice, actually, you can tell it's of some degree of high quality. Nothing particularly unique about it in taste or anything. You briefly ask, and he pauses, abruptly stands up and shuffles back into the kitchen, only to return to name it for you. It strikes you with some oddness that he wouldn't have known, since he presumably picked it intentionally, otherwise what would be be so nervous about, if not that it was good to you?

He says something else, but you can't quite understand. You ask him to repeat what he just said. The words don't come out of your mouth.

You try to shake your head to drive away a sudden wave of tiredness you feel coming on, but your head won't move. When you open your eyelids, everything seems to spin and blur. Your limbs feel heavy.

You see him stand up and move. But more importantly, you're still acutely aware of touch. You can feel the glass slipping out of your hand and onto the floor, and your head tilts towards it, but you just find yourself blinking, unable to move. Your brain commands your arm to reach out, but nothing happens. You see him pick it up and put it on the table, not bothering to do anything about the red seeping into the carpet.

You feels hands on your upper arms. Turning your body. Gently lowering you down. His hands are cold. You can feel each contact of fingertips to your skin. Your arms. Your thighs. There's cold touch under your clothes, to your waist, your ribcage. The air of the room is cold on your bare skin as it's gradually exposed.

Are you okay?

You find something strange about being asked such a question, not to mention that he sounds far away. Your head lolls to stare straight up, and you open your mouth, but no sound comes out. He's too blurry to make out his face.

The roughness of fabric sliding down and off your skin. Cold touch to your shoulders, your hips. But his body is warm. You can feel it close to yours. You can feel heat from where his breath hits your neck. You can feel heat at your inner thighs. You can feel some faint, sharp frictional pain. You try to say something again, but you hear your voice come out as only a muffled groan. You feel everything fade away, and come back, and fade away again, slipping in and out of consciousness.

You're still limp. There's soreness inside your body. You feel yourself come to just enough to sense the quiet stillness, and then everything feels far away again, except for touch. You feel yourself being lifted, firm arms behind your back and under your knees. Thumping footsteps up a set of stairs. There's a soft, but solid surface beneath you again, and you're warm. Warmth envelops your entire body. You feel the faintest sense of negative emotion, panic and confusion and shock and whatever else all muddled together, so faint it fades away with ease, even when you hear a click as something wraps around your ankle. You feel so, so tired, utterly exhausted, so when warmth presses up against you, it's easy to lean into it, to let yourself fall into unconsciousness. Warm... oh, in bed. Your thoughts clear just enough to process it. He must have put you in here since you're so tired... that makes sense to your muddled brain. How sweet. Always such a nice boy.

He is concerned for you, too. He checks to make sure you're breathing all right. Puts a still-shaking hand to your neck to check your pulse. Makes sure you're not positioned awkwardly in a way that would cramp your muscles anywhere. He cares, of course... and perhaps this helps to alleviate the crushing feeling of guilt. But... you made nice noises... so that's, that's good right? So he doesn't need to feel as bad... maybe when you wake up you'll actually be okay with it. Maybe. Probably not.

But... he resolves to tell himself, at least for right now, that you will. He can believe it for just these few precious moments, climbing in beside you and pulling you close. However you may act tomorrow, right now you're warm and soft and you don't stiffen up or push him away when he shuffles forward and presses up against you, wraps his arms around you. Such a wonderful feeling... who knew he could feel so happy. Whatever is waiting tomorrow can just be dealt with then.

#sorry for two age gap posts in a row aaaaaaa #ive had this sitting around like 90% done for a month and after the last post and the post i was tagged in i got inspired to finally finish

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jacereaall · 3 months

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The Song Sisters

From @jflashandclash 's spectacular Series: The Traitors of Olympus

#traitors of olympus #book one the whispers of a snake #Song JooYeon #Song Euna #too #my art #I'm so much happier with these character designs then the old art i posted of them #I was 13 so no judgement but man they didnt look anything like how they were described in the series #just finished rereading everything and finally got around to coloring these sketches from earlier this week #image described #Also while linking the fic i noticed ive clicked on TWOAS over a HUNDRED times #wow #technically 'times visited' doesnt mean times read just how many times you opened the link for the fic but i'm still surprised

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cerise-on-top · 2 months

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hi there! I was wondering if you could write how Farah would react if the reader got hurt because she's the commander of the ULF?

(Btw you are feeding the Farah lovers! Remember to take breaks and such if needed! 💞💞)

Hello! I'm glad to hear that! I do love writing for the girls, after all! I love them dearly and I'm glad you all do too! And I will take breaks if I need them, don't worry!

Reader got Hurt Because of Farah

I think that, although Farah is a very reasonable person and always uses her head instead of her heart, you getting hurt would be one of the few times where she would act out of emotions rather than rational thought. She can’t usually afford such a thing, no matter how distressed she may be, so it basically never happens. But the person who hurt you will come to regret ever getting close to you. She won’t go after them guns blazing, no, she’s way too smart for that. But that person will be dealt with, either immediately or after a while. Farah doesn’t forget, her memory is far too good for that. If she can see your attackers face, good. That way she can either immediately go after them or track them down by memory alone. But if she can’t see it then she’ll spare no expense in finding out who it may have been. It might take a while, but she’ll get her revenge. In fact, you getting hurt would be another big reason for her to fight her war for peace, because in her ideal world, no one gets hurt. Not you, not her brothers or sisters. However, whoever hurt you won’t live to see such a utopia. Farah won’t torture them, but she’ll make quick work of whoever they may be so that they won’t hurt anyone else near and dear to her. But of course, all of this goes once she’s certain you’re alright. Farah will call the best medics she has to make sure you’ll make it, that you’ll end up in as little pain as possible during your recovery. She won’t particularly have the time to be by your side throughout it all, but she’ll come visit you whenever she can, maybe even bringing you a recovery gift or two in the process. Always has someone check up on you. Someone she trusts will come in every once in a while and ask you how you’re doing to give her a report on your status. Yes, she may be on the frontlines fighting a war, but she always needs to know how you’re doing or else she’ll get even more nervous than she should be.

#cod #cod x reader #farah karim #farah karim x reader #the cod women lovers seem to have found me and liked me enough to want to request something from me. lovely #I am once again really tired today. work was rough and I ate some fried calamari today. the portion was so big and I'm stuffed #now I'm super tired but I have to wait until 21:20 until I can go to bed #at the time I'm writing this it's roughly 17:00 so I still have to pass a lot of time until I can finally sleep #anyway I don't have much to say as of right now #might mess around and finish the other two requests I have in my inbox today so some time will pass #I never would have thought I'd ever get into CoD but here I am and I am enjoying myself greatly #it never occurred to me before that it might have a storyline. and now I've been writing for that silly game for roughly two months now #time really does fly by. I got into it last summer actually so I haven't been a fan for too long #it's been fun. I got back into writing. but I only lost my writing spark because of vocational school. vocational school sucks so bad #had no time whatsoever for anything. had to study the entire time and had no time for my hobbies #god I'm looking forward to my apprenticeship leave exam so i never have to go there again #but enough about me on this post. sorry!

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grailknightmonty · 1 year

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no court can be complete without Mianite's star builders, so meet the Fyerians- Matt Firez, Phil Brute Almighty, the iconic "Killer"Tom, and the starwizard Waglington! :D

Bonus lore and dev under the cut!

No one's sure exactly where or how they came to be but they are known as the most magical beings across the vast Aether, drawing energy from the stars to do something no starborne has done before- a reality manipulation of the state of space matter (or in the case of Wag, create it out of pure energy) Luckily for us, they put these powers to good use for such purposes as turning piles of debris into the most grandiose of builds, including newer parts of the king's palace itself (designed by their good friend and architect associate Sonja! :])

Matt and Phil were was the first to be hired by Mianite after they just sort of appeared out of the Aether together from No Planet In Particular, and serve as the head engineers. Tom comes out of the void a little later to join them as a designer and power specialist, and Waglington (having had no proper family as starwizards are born directly from a fragment off the central star) was adopted by the trio, and theyve been a family ever since :D

While Waglington and other starwizards (such as Martha) draw their magic abilities to craft matter from their actual internal organs (channeled through the beads on his waistband), the other Fyerians all have a glowing white star embedded to somewhere on their torso created from a similar magic that allow them to draw magic from for block duplication, moving whole structures, etc. Their soul is also encased within these crystalline growths, so if they were to get damaged...

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my-biggest-disaster · 2 years

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I was midway through making a comic before I realized I really just wanted to draw the part with them singing and goofing off in a kitchen instead.

A multiple songs they all knew played in a row and Emmet is quickly adding vegetables while the other two are distracted.

#submas #nimbasa trio #elesa #ingo #emmet #i hc ingo to be the one not liking vegetables as much #i just want them to do friend group things #been seeing karaoke night shenanigans for a while now and i finally go around to drawing it.#been thinking about them singing to the radio #also wearing silly aprons #and other clothes that have aprons :3c #comic got scrapped due to plot giving me angst potential #im gonna post the panels i did finish later i guess #Aster's Draws

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might-be-tiny-gt · 9 months

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No Big Deal

Chapter 1: A Story Served with Pancakes

———

Alejandra Sanchez is an average girl starting her Sophomore year of high school. She’s got good grades, great friends, and a loving, if a bit dysfunctional, family. Perfectly normal… almost. There is something that makes Ale different from the rest of her family, the rest of the world even. She’s only 4 inches tall. But it’s fine, her height hasn’t stopped her from living a perfectly normal human life and nothing’s gonna stop her now. That is until one night she encounters someone and he’s just as small as she is. Her whole world view shatters as she encounters someone who knows what she is, a borrower.

———

Alejandra dashed into the Queen’s hedge maze, the entire deck following closely behind. She hoped to confuse them but she didn’t really know the maze any better. She knew she couldn’t out run them for long, they were cards after all. They didn’t need to breathe, or eat, or rest, if the Queen demands, “Off with her head!” They won’t stop until heads rolled.

Unfortunately for Alejandra, her breathes we’re getting slower, her steps heavier, she was going to collapse any second. She stopped by the rose bush she had helped to paint red earlier. Little did she know then that would be exactly what lead her to becoming a fugitive, mere minutes away from saying goodbye to her own head. She could not rest easy as the stomping of the guards’ marching grew louder and louder. If she could not out run these soldiers she had to come up with a plan, her only two options being to hide or fight. The clearing she found herself in was large and spacious with no obvious hiding places in sight. She could attempt to hide in the walls of the maze itself but she worried the sound of the leaves rustling would alert the guards to her hiding spot. The only other plan would to be to prepare for a fight, but that don’t seem like a viable option either. She had just used up most of her energy running and even if she had her full strength 1 V 52 hardly seemed like an even match.

As the stomping and the shouts drew closer and closer, Alejandra resigned herself to her fate. She sat down at the foot of the rose bush and hugged her knees. She prayed that maybe now would be the time she would wake up from her dream, that her alarm would pull her back to reality before it became a nightmare. But no such thing happened. She did everything to stifle her tears but she just couldn’t hold back any longer. Tears ran down her cheeks like water from a waterfall. This whole thing felt too familiar. It was just like this when she first fell down and found herself in that wondrous little hallway with the impossibly tiny door. At the time she thought she never escape the hall until she had found the bottle simply labeled, “Drink Me.”

Then another memory came rushing back, one that inspired some spark of hope within her.

Alejandra reached into her pockets and pulled out two pieces of mushroom from either pocket. She had encountered a snobbish caterpillar earlier that afternoon who had instructed her to eat a piece of his mushroom to change her size.

“But which is which?” She muttered under her breathe. She had too much on her mind to remember which piece should make her grow and which piece would make her shrink. Lost in thought she didn’t realize how close she was to being found.

“I THINK I KNOW WHERE SHE WENT!”

“WELL WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST STANDING THERE, LEAD THE WAY 8!”

Their shouts were too close to be coincidence, they were going to corner her any second now. With no better ideas she ate both pieces whole. She hoped they’d still have an affect on her and not cancel out.

“If it makes me grow bigger, I stand a fighting chance… and if it makes me grow smaller, I can hide until they give up the search..”

“Halt!” Came a shout from one side of the clearing, “By order of the queen!”

The guards had finally caught up and the mushroom was not having any sort of affect. In a panic, Alejandra tried running to the exit on the other side of the clearing only to run into another group of guards. Their pursuit pushed her back to the center of the maze until she was completely surrounded.

Two cards, the Ace of Hearts, clearly the leader, and the Ace of Spades, very clearly the executioner, stepped forward.

“Alejandra,” the Ace of Hearts began to read aloud from a large scroll, “You have been declared guilty of heinous crimes against our beloved Queen of Hearts including but not limited to conspiracy to cover up illegal white roses by painting them red, causing chaos in the courtroom, insulting her majesty, so on and so forth. By order of the Queen you shall lose your head effective immediately!”

The Ace of Hearts grabbed Alejandra before she could attempt any sort of escape while the Ace of Spades happily prepared his axe, lifting it above his head. Alejandra tried to fight back, doing everything in her power to free herself from the Ace’s grip, but she couldn’t get him to budge. A terrible feeling began in her, was this stress? Was it terror? She shut her eyes waiting for the axe to swing when she felt the Ace’s grip loosen. Suddenly, confused shouting began amongst the crowd.

“What’s this?”

“How dare she do such a thing!”

“This shall be added to your list of crimes I assure you.”

Alejandra opened her eyes to see that she was now nearly two feet taller than the soldiers, and still growing at a rapid pace. She realized that feeling wasn’t fear, at least not entirely, it was the mushroom finally taking affect. Looking down she could see the cards attempting to flee from her, trying not to be crushed under her feet. She felt herself stop growing and by then her head had grazed the clouds in the sky. As for the soldiers below?

“Hmm..” She bent down with a cocky grin, picking up the two Aces, “What was that you were saying?”

The Ace of Hearts wriggled in her hand, clearly terrified but doing his best not to convey it, “Y-You are breaking the rules! You shall put me down, make yourself an appropriate size, and properly face your execution!”

The Ace of Spades nodded in agreement.

“Why should I listen to you?” Alejandra tossed them aside and watched as they floated down like autumn leaves, “You’re nothing but a pack of cards.”

While several cards retreated, just as many tried fruitlessly to attack Alejandra. However at this size, even their weapons did nothings. Alejandra would simply brush them to the side with her foot, they weren’t a threat any longer.

Suddenly, a sinking feeling at the pit of her stomach made itself known. She knew that feeling, what it meant… She wouldn’t be this giant any longer, she was beginning to grow smaller. Afraid of what might happen if she found herself at her normal size amongst the aggravated guard she ran. Her first giant steps kicked up large clouds of dirt and dust that blinded the remaining perusing cards. As she stepped over the walls of the maze she felt herself getting smaller and smaller, faster and faster. Luckily she was able to escape the Queen’s domain by the time she returned to her normal size, but she didn’t stop shrinking. She kept running and running, shrinking and shrinking until she found herself seeking refuge under a towering tree root.

She took a moment to compose herself and check her surroundings. She assumed she was in a very dark wood of some kind, but something wasn’t right. The area didn’t look like she was in a forest filled with trees and plants and the fantastical creatures she expected from this place. No, it was more accurate to say that she found her self in a pitch black void with outlines of trees and grass extremely sparse and just barely visible to her eye. She had never been here before nor did she think she could navigate in such a massive space that was nothing but darkness. Instinctually she leaned her hand against the root she was hiding by and through she could barley see it, she most certainly felt it was there. She felt around the ground until she found what felt like a giant leaf. She did her best to fashion it like a tent or even a giant blanket. She felt comfortable resting there for the time seeing as she didn’t hear anything that sounded like the cards’ patrol.

“I-I’ll just wait here til dawn,” She said to no one in particular, “When the sun rises I’ll be able to see, and maybe find a way home then.”

“But there is no dawn here,” No one in particular replied.

Startled, Alejandra looked around for the source of the voice, finding nothing. That is until the no one began to laugh. Alejandra jerked her head up and noticed the moon, the only clearly visible thing in sight. Its beautiful crescent descended down and oriented itself into a large smile as the owner of the smile materialized in front of her, the Cheshire Cat. His fur seemed to glow in the darkness, it’s color overwhelming the space around them. Alejandra had encounter this mischievous cat earlier, but she was much bigger than him earlier and it was hard not to be intimidated by his wide grin now that that alone was significantly larger than her.

“What- What are you doing here?” Alejandra yelled, fearing her voice would not be heard unless she did.

The Cat looked down, finally acknowledging the girl with his eyes rather than his grin, “I noticed you found yourself at a dead end, thought I could lend a paw so to speak.”

“This isn’t a dead end. I was stuck in a dead end back the Queen’s maze, but this place is huge. In the morning I can look fo-“

The Cat cut her off, “But there is not morning in Tulgey Wood, and this is a dead end because you’ve stopped moving, but haven’t reached your end,” Then there was a pause, “Unless this is where you want to call your end?”

“I- no! I don’t want to spend of my life here! I want to wake up already! I… I WANT TO GO HOME.”

“Home? If you want to go home, and you go home by waking up… why haven’t you woken up already?”

That question stuck Alejandra like a ton of bricks. Why hasn’t she woken up? It wasn’t for a lack of trying. Was she just trapped in this dream for the foreseeable future? All she could muster was, “I don’t know…”

“I see, perhaps,” His spoke, grin unchanging, “I could help?”

“Help? Help how?“

“Isn’t it obvious? I can wake you up.”

“You can? Then please, wake me up!”

“I don’t think I should right now.”

“What?!” Alejandra wanted to scream so many thing at this troublesome cat but she felt like her lungs couldn’t continue for much longer, “You just told me I should wake up and now you refuse to help me?!”

“You see, Alice, my services come at a price. Are you satisfied with who you are right this second?”

“What does that have to do with your price?”

“That is the price, Are you satisfied with who you are right this second?”

Before she answered, Alejandra took a moment to ponder the question. Was this some weird trick? Had she some how changed as a person between now and when she first fell down? She didn’t hesitate a second longer, she was happy with who she was now and after everything she’s gone through, she’s ready to go home.

“Yes,” She said, “I am satisfied with who I am right this second.”

The Cat’s grin found a away to grow wider, “Very well,” He took a few steps closer to Alejandra who in response backed up until she back struck the root behind her and she could move no more. “You see Alice, in order to wake up, first you must fall asleep.”

As he said this, the tip of the Cat’s tail had lightly brushed Alejandra’s forehead. In that moment she felt a rush of clam and drowsiness overcome her body. She blinked a few time and found herself now laying on the ground which now felt as soft as her bed.

“Goodnight Alice.”

Then she drifted into a deep, deep slumber.

——————————————————

“Then what happened?!”

“Oye, not so loud, you’ll wake up the neighbors like that.”

“Sorry Mamá, but that can’t be how the story ends! That still doesn’t explain why Ale’s so small.”

“I’m getting that part.”

Ms. Sanchez had finished washing the last dish and took a seat at the kitchen counter next to her youngest son, Marcelo, “Now promise me, that you’ll finish your breakfast as I finish the story, Sí?”

Marco stabbed the last bit of his pancake and stuffed it in his mouth, turning to his mom with a proud smile, “Yes Mamá”

“Dios Mio” She muttered as she corrected her son’s table manners. “So when Alejandra woke up, she was back home in her bed but she brought a bit of magic back with her.”

Marcelo swallowed the last of his food and gasped, “The mushroom!”

“Well, yes and no. You see when the Cheshire Cat asked Ale about her being satisfied with who she was, she though he was asking if she felt like a good person. What he actually meant was her height, she was still a few inches tall after all.”

“So, he sent her back home, but at the same height she was at that moment?”

“Correct.“

“How did you and Papí react?”

“How did we react? Dios Mio, we were absolutely shocked, but Ale explained the whole story to us. Of course we wouldn’t have believed it if she wasn’t standing in our palm when she told us.”

“Mamá, will Ale ever grow back to normal?”

“Well, you’re just gonna have to ask your sister that.”

Marcelo nodded. He grabbed his plate and dashed to the kitchen sink placing his dish in the sink and trying very desperately to reach the handle to turn the water on. His mother, of course, turned it on for him, and he began cleaning his plate Mrs.Sanchez called out, “Oye Mijos, Marcelo already finished breakfast, if you don’t hurry you won’t have time to eat! Same thing applies to you Jośe!”

From upstairs she heard her oldest son, Juan Carlos, “Be down in a second, just waiting on Ale!”

Down the hall she could hear her husband, Jośe, accompanied by the sounds of haphazard typing, “Just finishing up this document, save me some pancakes!”

As Marcelo finished cleaning his dish and drying his hands, they could hear the cacophony of foot steps, Juan Carlos’ racing down the stairs and Jose’s rushing from the first floor office. It was only the first day of this school year, and already the familiar sounds of the family frantically getting their footing were falling into place. Mrs. Sanchez sighed, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m here,” With a stack full of documents barely in hand Jose took a seat at the table, “Did you save me any-“

“Pancakes?” Mrs. Sanchez handed Jose his breakfast before he finished his thought.

He leaned forward to give his wife a kiss, “Rosa, what would I do without you?”

“Make your own breakfast?” She quipped, “Don’t take too long. Marcelo needs to be dropped off in 40 minutes and your are not leaving without cleaning your plate.”

Jose looked up, his face already stuffed, nodding as of to say, I understand.

Rosario pinched the bridge of her nose, “Jose, small bites please. You’re even worse than Marcelo.”

Marcelo, who had been checking to make sure he had everything in his little backpack, chuckled with delight. It’s always fun when you get a win over a parent, even a minor one.

“Morning!” Entering the kitchen was Juan Carlos, but he wasn’t the one to greet them, “What’s for breakfast?”

Sitting on Juan Carlos’ shoulder was a small figure, barley 5 inches tall. Her hair was tied back with a bread tie to keep it in place. Despite the huge size difference between her and the everyone else in the kitchen, no one seemed to bat an eye at her presence. Makes sense, this is her family after all.

Juan Carlos took a seat at the table next to his father while letting the tiny girl climb down so she could take a seat on the table top itself.

“Oh look at you two,” Jose said nearly teary eyed as he cut his pancakes into more manageable bites, “Sophomores already… time flies. How’s the uniform Ale? Not too baggy, right?”

The tiny girl posed for her father, “It’s perfect dad. Not too baggy at all!”

Juan Carlos snickered, “Gee, it’s like it was tailor made for you.”

Mrs. Sanchez put down another plate of pancakes, this time for her son. She then addressed her smallest, “Ale, I made chocolate chip pancakes this morning but I know that it gets really messy. Would you like something else?”

With out hesitation Ale responded, “Can I have a slice of strawberry then?”

“I don’t know mi amor, the juice is just as messy as the chocolate chips…”

“Mama,” She pleaded, “I’m not a toddler, I can have strawberry without staining my clothes. Besides, dad just made me this uniform, you really think I’d be so reckless that I’d ruin it before making it to class.”

“Alright,” Rosario put her hands in the air as if surrendering, “One strawberry slice it is.”

While her mother rummaged through the fridge, Ale was greeted by her larger younger brother, “Ale!” He had his face pressed against the table.

Alejandra ran to the edge of the table, “Hey kiddo! Excited for your first day of 5th grade?” She playfully messed with his hair as she asked.

“Yup! Papi’s taking me this year! I’m super excited to see Justin and Danny again too!”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Ale can I ask you something?”

Rosario passed by with Ale’s slice of strawberry, handing it to her on a napkin. To her, it was less of a strawberry slice and more of a strawberry steak. “Yeah of course, what’s up?” She replied before taking a bite of her sweet steak.

“Are you gonna grow back to your normal size?”

Ale was dumbfounded, What is he talking about? Ale’s eyes shifted until she found herself looking her mother’s way. She shot her a confused look while her mother responded with a suspicious grin. On a hunch Ale asked, “Did mom say anything about being bigger before?”

Marcelo nodded excitedly, “Yeah! She told me about how you followed the white rabbit and how the Cheshire Cat asked if you were ready to go home and-“

Above her, Juan Carlos nearly spat out his drink. She looked up to see him stifling his laughter. Ale rolled her eyes and held her hand up to Marcelo before taking another bite of her strawberry. That explains it, she thought. “Well Kiddo, I’m not sure if I can grow back, not without going back to Wonderland at least.”

“Oh…”

“But that’s ok,” She began, “I’ve been this small for years and I am satisfied with who I am. And I know Mom and Dad and even JC like me like this too. You’re ok with having a tiny older sister, right?”

“Of course! I love you no matter what Ale! I just feel bad that you can’t go back.”

Alejandra sighed before finishing off her strawberry. She wiped her lips with a piece of the napkin before returning to the edge of the table. She gestured for her brother to put out his hands. He did so and she stepped on before he brought her closer.

“Don’t feel bad kiddo, I’m just fine. Sure there are things I can’t really do at this size… but there’s so many cool things I can because I’m this size!”

“Like sneaking in my bag and coming with me to school?” Marcelo asked.

Jose interjected with a concerned tone as he took his plate to the sink, “Which is not happening again.”

Ale laughed, “Yes, like that. What I’m trying to say is that I’m not upset or sad I’m like this ok?“

“Promise?”

“Promise. I’m fine.” Ale leaned forward and gave Marcelo a boop on his nose which made him giggle.

“Alright, Macelito!” Jose bend down to meet his son at his height and place a hand on his shoulder, “We better get going, don’t want to be late on the first day. Say bye to your sister.

“Bye Ale!” Marcelo placed his sister back on the kitchen table. He grabbed his backpack and his father’s hand and headed for the door. “Bye Mama! Bye JC!”

“Have a good day!”

“¡Te Quiero Mucho!”

“See ya!”

When Ale heard the door shut, she turned her attention to her mother, who was putting away the dishes. “Mom,” Ale called, “We need to talk about this.”

“¿Que Pasa? You didn’t stain your uniform did you?”

“No, I mean we need to talk about this story you keep telling Marcelo.”

Rosa stopped what she was doing to take a seat at the table. She knew her daughter preferred to have conversations face to face as opposed to across the room. “What about it? It’s a fun little story, no harm in it right?”

“I mean, I guess? But don’t you think Marcelo is too old for it?”

“Yeah mom,” JC joined in as he washed his dish, “You should tell him she’s Tinker Bell’s lost cousin instead.”

“Not funny JC!”

“But he loves that story,” Their mother began to lament. “He always believed you were something out of a fairytale. You should hear him at school, ‘My sister has been to Wonderlnad you know!’ He takes such pride in it.”

“I get it, but maybe you should just tell him the actual story? I’m not magically shrunk I’m was just… born like this.”

…

“But where’s the fun in that?” She asked so plainly. Ale could only facepalm.

“I can’t win with you, can I?”

“Mija, I’m just teasing. It’s just, I love telling that’s they as much as Marcelo loves hearing it. But, you’re both growing up so fast. Giving up on the story feels like admitting you’re basically adults now.”

Ale put her hand on her mother’s, she gave her a sincere smile, “Mama, Marcelo’s 10. He’s not gonna move out and get a job just cause you slow down with your story telling.

“It’s not that simple it’s… well….” Mrs. Sanchez struggled to put her thoughts into words, after a moment she just settled for, “You’ll understand when you have kids of your own.”

Ah, mom’s classic conversation ender. Not a moment later, they heard a loud honk from outside. Ale didn’t have the best view of the window from where she stood, but she knew exactly what was outside.

“Bus is here,” JC gathered his things before walking up the table, “You ready to go Ale?”

“Yeah you have my bag right?” JC nodded and pointed to his backpack’s front pocket, “Then I’m good to go-hey!”

JC picked up his sister by the back of her shirt and placed her on his shoulder, “You got a good grip?” He asked.

“Yeah, but a warning would have been nice.”

“Juan Carlos, how many times have I told you to be careful with how you carry your sister?”

“Mom, she’s fine, we do this all the time.”

“Dios Mio, I hope you don’t do this kind of thing at school.”

“I don’t!”

Ale concurred, “He doesn’t.”

Mrs. Sanchez sighed before stretching out her arms, “Alright, give me a hug before you go.”

JC was pulled into his mother’s embrace, both of them being mindful of Alejandra who had to settle with hugging her mothers arm.

“¡Besos! I love you.”

“Love you too!”

“See you later mom!”

Finally free of his mother’s grip, JC made it out the front door and towards the bus. The door swung open and as JC stepped inside, the bus driver greeted them, “Morning, I’ve got both of you on with me, right?”

JC turned so that the bus driver could better see Ale, “Morning Patty!” She waved to ensure Patty could see.

The driver, Patty, nodded, “Good to see you. Careful finding your seats.” JC and Ale both gave her a thumbs up before making their way further down the bus. The bus was decently full, the Sanchez siblings knew they were one of the later stops. Ale always found it amusing seeing the other students turn their attention towards her and her brother as they boarded. She’s known most if not all of these kids her entire life, but seeing a tiny person casually riding on a human shoulder never seems not interesting. There were plenty of empty seats but Ale and JC were looking for someone in particular…there she is!

“Hattie!” Ale called out. Luckily her friend heard her small voice over the other students. Ale felt her brother walk straight for Hattie’s seat as soon as he made eye contact. When he made it to Hattie’s seat he held out his hand for Ale and she rode it until she made it into Hattie’s hands.

“Keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.” He said as he passed his sister off to another student.

“Oh please,” Hattie scoffed, “Ale is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.”

JC smirked, “That’s nice and all, but I was actually talking to my sister.”

Ale laughed as Hattie feigned offense. JC then took his seat closer to his friends, leaving the girls alone for the remainder of the ride.

“Hey Hattie,” Ale greeted again, “What’s up?”

Hattie held her hand up to her face so that she and Ale would be properly facing one another, “Oh not much. What up with you?”

“Well, I had a funny thing happen with my little brother this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he asked about Wonderland again.”

The girls laughed at the absurdity of it all. They continued to go back and forth, sharing anecdotes until they made it to school.

#Guys… This one has been in my drafts for ages #finally got around to finishing the first chapter #I really like this story so I’m excited to finally post it #No Big Deal #NBD #title is subject to change…. still not sure about it #g/t #giant/tiny #gt #giant tiny #borrower #borrowers #g/t community #gt community #g/t writing #gt writing #mighty writes

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