emptybattlefield

[emptybattlefield]

Day 15 - "Childhood Trauma" / "Healed Wrong"

Karkat breaks his arm while laying shingles on the roof outside—unfortunately, it harkens back to similar incident when he was a kid. Luckily, this time he has John and Dave by his side.

Another Earth C fic! All the kids and trolls are 17 years old or equivalent. 

—————————————————

One minute, Karkat had been kneeling on the roof of their shed, and when John looked again, he was lying in a crumpled heap in the grass amongst the discarded shingles. 

John bolted outside. Poor Karkat’s right arm had an extra bend in it. It hurt just to look at. 

Dave was outdoors in an instant as well—and together, they lifted Karkat to his feet. 

“C’mon buddy, let’s get you inside.”

Karkat sat forlornly at the kitchen table, bright direct sunlight from the window falling on his right arm, which was gingerly cradled in his left. Meanwhile, John scrambled to find his license, phone, and car keys. Even as a god-tier Earth C overlord—he still needed a license to drive. Dave emptied the freezer, and placed a package of peas by Karkat’s placemat. 

Karkat got up from the table and slowly headed upstairs. 

“Where are you going?” Dave asked wildly. 

“I just wanna be alone right now. Is that too much to ask?” he said begrudgingly from the staircase. 

“Dude, are you insane? You have to go to the hospital.” Dave looked at him with eyes as large as saucers.

“Karkat. I know you’re not a fan of doctors, but you need to have that looked at. Seriously. Do not go back upstairs,” added John worriedly. 

“Okay! Geezus Christ, calm your grub glands, both of you.” He thumped down to the landing, and the three headed to John’s car. 

“What the hell is he gonna do?!” Karkat could be heard sniffling in the back. “I just wanna be home. In my bed. The arm, it hurts like hell.”

Things got quiet and awkward for a minute. “They’ve got pain medicine at the hospital,” John said weakly. 

Dave started, “I’ll never forget the day when I was 10 and broke my wrist. Twice, actually. Looked just like that. Brutal. Don’t underestimate the kind of pain he’s in, bro.”

“Well—sorry, I just—thought that since the Alternians lived the rough-and-tumble life, that their pain receptors are just not as sensitive as ours are,” John replied.

“You did not break your wrist, Dave,” Karkat scoffed. He was in the back with Dave, while John panickedly  drove. 

Dave said coolly, “Mm, the doctor seemed pretty sure that I did.”

“Dave. You’re not making him feel any better,” John said admonishingly. 

The car slammed to a halt. Karkat howled in pain. Red lights all around blared through the front windshield.

“Fucking Christ—what are you doing?!” Karkat hissed.

“C’mon, Egbert. Focus,” urged Dave.

“I’m sorry!! I’m just—I’m really sorry,” John answered panickedly.

Karkat began again, “But you don’t have this.” He traced a lightning bolt shaped line with his finger along Dave’s wrist. He made a gruesome face. “Yours is completely straight.”

“Yeah, it’s because they set it, and cast it,” said Dave obviously.

One of the first things John noticed upon finally meeting the trolls, was that Karkat’s leg was crooked, and he walked about with a prominent limp. That wasn’t the kind of thing you knew about someone, until you met them in person. He never talked about why or how it got like that—so everyone, trolls included, presumed the topic was simply off-limits. Maybe it was a mutant thing—a birth defect. Maybe he’d narrowly escaped the drones. Maybe he’d contracted Alternian polio as a boy. In private, John and Dave speculated. 

“Karkat, did you break your leg when you were younger?” 

He shot Dave a dubious look. “Yes. Is that not obvious enough?”

It should have been obvious—Dave and John exchanged looks on the rear view. But, both of them had thought it best not to broach the subject before now.

“Why didn’t you ask me about it, if you were all so curious?” Karkat asked curmudgeonly when the other guys admitted to the group curiosity. 

John replied sheepishly: “We—figured you were sensitive about it. Like you were with your blood color, and stuff.”

“Oh, please. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings by asking. God,” Karkat said, tutting. “What to you take me for, a friggin—snowflake, is that what they call it?”

He told the others about how when he was 5 sweeps, he ran straight off a stone cliff, hit his thigh on a rock.

“And then it never healed right. Oh Karkat, that must have been awful,” said John. 

“Well, it healed how it broke. That was how the chips fell.” He crossed his bad leg nonchalantly over his good one.

John began, “This time, they’ll make it right. The doctors will fix it, so you won’t even know it was broken.”

Whenever John spoke about what they were gonna do once they got to the hospital, Karkat grew tense in the back seat. Dave noticed, and tried to distract him, to little avail. 

When they finally arrived, Karkat had to go alone to the operating suite. His pale face stared back at the two of them, still as a stone, as they wheeled him in. 

“He’ll make out just fine,” Dave said before John could even say anything.

Dave knew John, and he knew that John’s heart broke easily for other people. That look on his face while they hauled Karkat away…geezus. 

“He’s just…not accustomed to doctors, Dave. It’s not fair,” he said. 

“Life on Alternia overall didn’t seem very fair,” Dave answered. 

***

Karkat was in there but an hour. When he came out, he was practically bouncing with unbridled excitement. His arm was bandaged close to his chest in a sling. 

“How’d…it go?” John asked cautiously. 

“Everything went as planned, with no complications,” the doctor pushing his wheelchair said. 

“They kept telling me not to look, while they literally just—finagled it back into place. Like, what the fuck,” said Karkat, floored.

“They…kept you awake?” John asked, horrified.

“We utilized a local nerve block just above the elbow—”

“Yeah, they numbed it, so I don’t feel a fucking thing,” said Karkat happily. “Doc here took a video on my phone, the white stuff is my bones—”

“That’s okay, dude,” Dave said, dismissing him. 

“Whatever. Kanaya will find it interesting,” Karkat said reproachingly.

“I’ve assured your friend here that once the fracture properly heals, he should regain full functionality and the fracture will be virtually unnoticeable,” said the doctor.

“Oh, Karkat. You thought it was gonna be stuck like that forever,” said John consolingly.

Dave said, “You seriously have to be the happiest person ever coming out of an operating room.” Although, based on the way the doctor was talking, it seemed like this wasn’t an uncommon course of reactions for the numerous trolls he’d treated in the past for this very thing.

“Do you blame me? My leg is stuck like this forever. Shame no one like you was around at the time,” Karkat said flatly into his lap. 

“It might not be too late to do something about,” the doctor said. “It would be a major surgical procedure, and the recovery wouldn’t be easy. But, that leg has a lot more years it’s gotta carry you through. So, it’s something to think about.”

Karkat’s countenance fell into uneasiness. John chimed in, “It’s not like you have to decide on that today—”

“Here—” The surgeon handed Karkat his business card. “My nurse’s name is Uldira. Ask to speak with her.”

Karkat pocketed it, and smiled a private smile.

The three boys drove back to the house. John repacked the freezer, while Karkat returned to his bedroom to take it easy. Outside his window, Dave cleaned up the shingles on the grass. He curled up with one of his romance novels—it was hard to turn the pages with only one hand. 

“Hey Karkat?” John appeared at the door. “Before you get too far into that, you wanna have lunch.”

“Right,” Karkat replied. With all the excitement, he’d forgotten all about it. He withdrew the business card from his pocket, stuck it into the pages, and followed John down the stairs. 

<end>

[emptybattlefield]

"just a little more" (day 12)

Dipper perseveres through some outdoor work with Grunkle Ford, and pushes himself too far. This is a combo with Heatstroke.

“What the hell does Ford have him doing out there?” asks Stan lackadaisically, sipping on a strawberry lemonade that he and Mabel just cooked up. It is the hottest week of the summer, and the two are cooped up under the shade of the veranda. 

Mabel sits on her knees in the chair beside him, tipping another packet of Stan’s sweet-n-low into her glass. “Disinfecting some kind of gadget parts. Apparently gnome saliva is very dangerous,” she answers. 

Stan grunts, and keeps an eye on Dipper, who’s wearing a hazmat suit, standing over one of Stan’s folding tables, which is laden with gadget parts of various shapes and sizes. Ford was nowhere to be seen. Stan takes a swig of his pink drink. Dipper rounds to the other side of the folding table—trips over one of the folds in his too-large hazmat suit. Stan is tight in his chair as the boy successfully catches his balance. 

But then, a second later, he faints. 

Stan is up from his chair in an instant. “Dipper!” Mabel cries while her uncle bolts across the lawn. 

Stan unzips the suit—trying his best to avoid iridescent rainbow goo—and slips Dipper out of it like a shell. The kid’s hair is plastered with sweat from nape to crown. Stan picks him up and carries him inside the kitchen.

He yells for Ford to come up. Where the hell was he? Stan places Dipper on the cool countertop. Heavy footsteps pound up the laboratory stairwell. Meanwhile, Dipper is listless, pale, and not very responsive.

The look on Ford’s face as he reaches the landing… “Dipper!” he hollers, rushing over. “Dipper, it’s your Uncle Ford. Is he alright?” 

Their nephew shifts—but does not rouse. 

Ford is already unsheathing his pocket vitals machine. “Dis you see any gnome saliva on him when you found him?” he asks. 

Stan wanted to slap him. “He’s done collapsed from heatstroke, you idiot. Dipper, it’s Stan. We’re gonna get you cooled off, kiddo.”

“Blood pressure is low. His temp is 103.4 degrees,” Ford says worriedly.

Stan glares at him. He found himself combing his thick fingers through the kid’s sweat-slicked hair. “You are not* a medical doctor.”

“I never said I was, Stan,” Ford states categorically. “I have 14 Ph.Ds, and a bachelor’s of science in nursing. You said Mabel’s running a bath, right?”

Suddenly, Dipper’s whole body stiffens and shudders on the countertop peninsula. His eyes fly open. “What did I just do?” he asks fretfully. 

“You fainted. You’re gonna be alright,” Stan answers gently. He carries him through the house to the bathtub, and lowers him in. His body twitches from the sharp cold. Mabel stands in the doorway—her worried, pink fingers at her mouth. The empty ice cube trays were discarded upon the toilet seat.

Ford quickly follows behind. Stan saddles the side of the bathtub, sitting him up—one of his dark socks underwater. Poor Dipper dry heaves, but nothing comes—false alarm. 

“Am I…contaminated?” Dipper directs his fearful look to Grunkle Ford. 

Ford replies, “No, son. Just a touch of heat exhaustion, by the looks of it. Best for you to stay in the bath a while, I’m afraid.”

Ford offers him some cool water, and Dipper sips it slowly. Ford can’t tell, but Stan can see that Dipper looks disappointed in himself. 

“Temp’s better,” says Grunkle Ford. “Pressure’s bounced back, too.”

Together, they laid Dipper back, so that all but the rounds of his shoulders and face were underneath the water. His shorts poof out to both sides. Mabel keeps him company. Ford disappears outside to retrieve the tableful of machinery pieces—apparently, they can’t be left in the sun for too long without damage.

The visceral zing! of the gnome saliva creeps into Stan’s spine. His head starts to feel a little light and airy under its influence. He ultimately ignores it. After some time, Stan grabs a bath towel from the top shelf of the closet. He shoos Mabel so that her brother can change and get into bed. 

Stan wasn’t the tucking in type, but he asks Dipper, “Kid, what were you thinking? Did you feel yourself overheating, or…?”

“I don’t know…I guess I did, but I was so focused on decontaminating,” he responds, ashamedly. 

“Just—all I ask is that next time, you listen to your body. Think you can do that for me?” says Stan.

“I will—next time,” Dipper replies sadly. 

Grunkle Stan laughs— “Y’know, way-back-when, you had to throw something at your Grunkle Ford to get him to even look up at you, if he was in the middle of a really good book.”

Dipper beams. 

“All’s I’m saying is—you didn’t get it from me,” Stan tells him.

“Where is Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper asks.

“Getting the gadgets. Something about the sun ‘degrading the finish.’ But, he agreed with me. It’s best you take it easy the rest of the day,” says Stan grimly. “You’ll be up and at it tomorrow.”

Stan leaves Dipper to himself, and descends to the basement lab. Ford looks up as soon as he hears Stan’s footsteps. “How is he?” Ford asks worriedly. 

Stan can’t help it—he sees red, and immediately shoves Ford into the concrete laboratory wall and pins him there. He has his brothers collar between his knuckles.

“You are on thin ice with me, Poindexter, you get that?!” Stan hisses, inches from his face. “How old were you when you had your first job mowing lawns? You know that he idolizes you. He wants to please you—that’s why I can’t let him turn himself inside out doing your* legwork.”

“I’m sorry, Stan, I’m terribly sorry,” Ford says helplessly.

Stan lets him go. The old man shakes his head. “Honestly, I think it’s good you let him work with you, but when are you gonna get it through your thick, plated skull—he is not your peer, Stanford,” he says all too frustratedly. 

Ford coughs. “I know that, Stanley—”

“You better,” Stan warns. “Because need I remind you—everybody else in the world thinks you died in ‘92. If anything happens to those two kids, it’s me who has to answer to their parents. You get that?”

“Understood,” answers Ford regretfully.

Stan grumbles something inaudible—and says nothing more to him before trumping back up the staircase.

McGuckett was the one who produced Ford’s industrial six-fingered gloves. Now that he had his memories back, the first thing Ford asked him for (aside from his forgiveness) was to make Dipper a pair as well. Ford had them on his desk because he was going to surprise Dipper with them once they returned. With how small they were—they looked silly now. 

When Ford emerges from the basement lab, he tenuously asks where Dipper is.

“Sleeping,” Stan retorts. He and Mabel are at the table playing cards. “Best you let him.”

“Grunkle Ford, do you want us to deal you in?” Mabel asks kindly. Stan’s stony face is in his lap.

“Sure. I can play one round,” he says. 

After several, Ford enters the twins’ bedroom, hoping to apologize to Dipper, but he’s out like a light—little threads of drool hang from his lower lip. Ford places the note on Dipper’s bedside, and the gloves on top to weigh it down. Outside, Mabel is calling a bit too loud because it’s his turn. Ford closes the door quietly.

*end*

[emptybattlefield]

"seeing double"

twinstuck orphanstuck. A PLEA TO THE MOD FAIRIES: i beg of thee please reblog me!! It is my deepest desire! I appreciate you guys!! <3

“There. That boxcar.”

Tavros led his sister down a hill to where they would settle to sleep for the night. Soft Christmas snow was underfoot. 

“I can smell it from here. Are you sure?” Vriska asked. 

“Positive,” Tavros tells her, out of breath. “This is definitely the A95 train. Which means it won’t leave again till Thursday—Friday, if it’s delayed.” He gingerly held the train schedule pamphlet that he nicked from the station. “We can camp out for at least the next few days.”

The two climbed inside the traincar. Tavros started kicking a pile of hay together for them to sleep on. 

“I was right about being able to smell it,” Vriska said with revulsion. 

“I can’t smell anything. But, I read that hay is a natural insulator. So, should keep us warm in here, too,” Tavros said wearily. 

“I don’t feel feel like it’s working yet,” said Vriska, helping to shape the horse’s hay into a bed.

After just a little bit of exertion, Tavros was thrown into a coughing fit. It echoed badly throughout the traincar. 

“Are you sure you’re better than yesterday?” she asked him as they chose the least dirty corner to settle into. 

“Much,” her brother said, “and definitely over the worst of it.”

They knew nothing else but sleeping shoulder-to-shoulder. And so that was how Mr. Vantas encountered them. 

“Dave…”

Vriska swam into awareness. Somehow, the boxcar was colder than they’d found it. The street lamps were off—it was the dead of night. There was a face looming in the mouth of the boxcar. 

“Dave—it looks like you’ve got some friends in here.”

Tavros was awake, but bleary eyed—Vriska was still shaking him when a second face loomed before them. This time, a human one. 

“Urchins! Scram, you!” yelled the human, named Dave. 

“The boy looks like he’s poorly,” said the troll uneasily. 

Vriska’s heart pounded. How was her oaf brother still asleep?

It’s because he’s a furnace, she thinks dreadfully. He’s sweating and feverish, and there’s little straws of hay stuck to his face and neck.

“I know a doctor. Let me take him to him,” the adult troll said to Vriska, now climbing into to boxcar. 

“He’s sick! Leave us alone, you creeps,” she shouted at them. 

“Uh, in case you haven’t noticed, wench, these are my train cars,” said Dave lackadaisically. 

“Come now, girl. Is this your brother?” asked the troll. 

“I won’t let you take him. He just needs time. We know your train doesn’t go out till Thursday evening. We’ll be out of your hair long before then,” she said to the both of them. 

“Your brother needs a doctor—or I’ll be surprised if he survives tonight. Don’t be stupid, girl,” the troll said. 

Tavros still wouldn’t rouse. His breathing sounded heavy and ragged. Vriska’s armpits were suddenly growing intensely itchy.

The troll man swiftly bent down, and cradled Tavros in his burly arms. He hopped down from the train car.

Then they came into the light, and Vriska’s breath began to come short. Her eyes grew wide. Not only was the troll a mutant, but a mutant wearing an apron, covered and dripping with bronze, cerulean…rainbow blood!

“Oh, quit looking at me like I kill children. I’m a butcher. The name’s Karkat. What about yours?

Dave climbed into the coachman’s seat of a carriage parked up the hill. 

“You’re…you’re a mutant,” said Vriska. 

Karkat blinked, still holding out his hand for her to step up into the back of the carriage. “Uh. Indeed I am. And what did you say your name was?”

“Vriska,” she answered as she climbed into the back.

Dave fed the horses a quick snack. Next to her, Karkat looked sorely down at the limp Tavros. “And who’s this young bloke?”

“His name is Tavros.”

“And he’s your brother?”

“We’re twins,” she said. 

While they careened away from the trainyard, Karkat tried one-handedly to bundle the shivering Tavros into an empty burlap sack from the floor of the carriage.

“Are you and the human…flushed?” Vriska asked with surprise and disgust. 

“Yes.”

“That’s…forbidden.”

Karkat turned to her bitterly. “You and your brother are of completely different blood colors. You do know what kind of love twins like that are made from, don’t you? That’s forbidden as well, isn’t it?”

Vriska said nothing more, and resorted to staring out the carriage window.

***

“Found him inside one of Dave’s boxcars. He’s wrought with fever…”

Perhaps Vriska shouldn’t have been so surprised—Karkat’s brother was also a mutant. 

Vriska was now fully observant, and on her guard. She didn’t believe yet that the societal untouchables could be fully harmless. She noted that the one mutant called the other, “Kankri.” 

Kankri had answered the door in his pajamas and nightcap. He looked kind of pathetic, really—not like a doctor at all. He swung his head both ways down the street, and then ushered them all inside. 

In Kankri’s house, there was a small room with a cot that seemed to be fit for the very purpose of housing a single sick person. From a tiny dresser drawer, Kankri withdrew a trumpet stethoscope and a thermometer. Tavros looked paler in the candlelight.

When Vriska tried to enter the room, Karkat put his hand in front of the door to prevent her from entering. “You are not to bother him while he’s doing your brother a favor,” he said. 

“Feed the girl, if you must keep her occupied,” said Dr. Vantas lazily. “She’s no doubt starving.”

Karkat led Vriska into the most lavish and beautiful kitchen she’d ever seen in her life. Karkat slapped a loaf of bread and a block of cheese onto the counter. 

He threw his whole weight into them while he was cutting, as you would for meat. He served it to her on a blue and gold decorated plate that for a moment, overwhelmed even her sense of hunger. She simply stared at the carefully gilded animals—ram, bull, cat, horse, goat, fish… rather than eating her first meal in almost a day. 

“Do not try to clean up after you’re done,” he warned. “The Mrs. is very attached to her bone china.”

Vriska inhaled the bread and cheese, and Karkat gave her another one, and she wolfed that down, too. 

Karkat shook his head, smiling. “Come with me, I’ll have you try some of my stuff from the shop.” 

He fetched some sausage from the icebox for her to try. He laughed when her eyes grew wide with delight—it was clear to her that it was delicious. 

“Tav needs to try some of this,” she said.

“I’m glad you like it so much. It’s nothing special.” And it wasn’t—just his cheapest meat that he was never able to completely sell. 

“Kan—what are you doing out of…”

A pair of slippers padded softly down the stairs. Kankri’s wife was a small, cerulean lady with a ink-black bob, wearing a shimmering, sapphire evening robe. Vriska couldn’t help but stare at her night slippers, which were made of red satin, with small, delicate rubies sewn in. 

Kankri’s wife raised her thin eyebrows, yet smiled when she saw Vriska. “—Oh, my. It’s like a proper soirée in here, isn’t it? Duty calls, I take it, dear?” she called genially to the doctor. 

“Yes, honey,” Kankri answered from the other room.

This wild place held two mutants—one of them flushed with a human, the other with a highblood… What kind of mad house was this? Vriska thought to herself. 

Despite this—the more Vriska stared at her, the more she thought that Aranea was the most beautiful woman that she had ever seen. 

Aranea immediately got to work on the hearth, and then fixed tea for the entire group. She brought one in for her husband, which went cold on the counter in the tiny workroom. She conversed with the two men Dave and Karkat at the kitchen table. Eventually her attention turned to Vriska. 

“Heterosanguineous twins,” Aranea marveled. “Remarkable. How rare…”

“Did you two run off from an orphanage?” Dave asked in a harsh voice. 

“No. We’re truly urchins,” Vriska replied timidly. 

“True urchins,” repeated Dave. “You know, if you aren’t telling the truth, we’ll be able to phone every orphan home in this side of England—it won’t be hard to ask if a pair of heterosanguineous twins went missing.”

“I am being honest,” said Vriska. “Our mother fell ill with fever, and died six months ago.”

“David, you may question her in the morning. I’ll set her up in the downstairs room,” Aranea said gently. 

Wordlessly, Vriska followed her. She was bathed, her hair brushed and woven into braids, and clothed in a pale blue girls’ nightgown with lace trim that was slightly too large for her. 

“Who’s clothes are these?” Vriska asked tentatively. “Are they—do you have children?”

“Kankri and I wanted our own; but alas, it was not in the cards,” Aranea replied with a sad smile. “These are the hospital’s. They aren’t new—but at the very least, they are clean. Come here, so I can get you some socks.”

Vriska’s brain ran wild—she imagined how many kids had died in what she was now wearing. 

Aranea led her to the second guest bedroom, and left the candle on the nightstand. “You may snuff it now, or when you’re ready. Good night, Vriska.”

Vriska could not sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept by herself…it was not long before she got up from bed and tried to sneak into the tiny side room. But, she couldn’t do so without crossing the foyer, where the adults were still sitting and talking. Vriska hid behind the wall out of sight. 

She allowed herself only one peek. Kankri looked worn down—Aranea sat with her legs crossed, with Karkat and Dave also on the sofa. 

“You two really have your work cut out for you, this time,” said Karkat uneasily. “Do you have any interspecies couples on your wait list that will take two children?”

Aranea’s lips shifted into a disconcerted look. “Perhaps there are some out there who believe in our same principles—that siblings like them should not be separated…”

“Would you consider splitting them? If the alternative is to return them to an orphanage, perhaps that would be preferable, for both their sakes…” said Karkat.

“We still have to see how the boy fares,” answered Kankri. His head was in his hands. “If he succumbs to his fever, then we may not have a choice in the matter, at all.”

“Don’t say that,” said Dave sharply.

“He’s right, dear. You two should go to bed,” said Aranea, “and we’ll all reconvene in the morning, as to what we should do with the children.”

She and her husband ascended the stairs—as it turned out, Karkat and Dave did not live far. Once the foyer was clear, Vriska snuck into the tiny room. 

When she shook his shoulder, he coughed—and turned to her, bleary-eyed. “Vriska?”

“They’re like those people on the news. We’re in a madhouse, full of Sufferer-gettes,” Vriska blurted out in a whisper. “They’re planning to send us to a troll and human flushcouple. That’s because the law bans them from adopting.”

“I don’t care if we go to troll-human parents. Those two men didn’t seem mad.” Tavros mused, “And the mutant doctor is kind. Anyways--beats you and me getting split up. Do you care?”

“I guess not,” said Vriska. “That’s why you can’t die on me. No matter what happens. Okay?”

“Stop talking hysterical…”

<to be continued! Probably!! thanks for reading!!!>

[emptybattlefield]

"trust issues"

I'm sorry but this is the Louise gets her period fic that nobody asked for. i'm not sure if there's an episode about this since i'm only on S06, but this is how i imagine it'd go. tw for blood and woman problems lmao.

“It’s not a boy-girl sleepover, because we’re just playing video games.”

While getting dropped off, Louise had tried to explain to Tina that Rudy’s mom’s house had an X-box, to no avail.

She was awake, at nine o’ clock at night!, absolutely living her best life, and beating Rudy and his online friends at Elden Ring.

She took a quick pee break and that was when she found the blood, all over and ruining everything.

She knows what this is, but Louise is only 10, and Tina didn’t get hers till 12—so Louise was sure that she had at least another 2 years. But there’s no question, this was it. Faintly, she hears the TV chiming outside. Rudy must have been playing a quick solo round.

She heard his mom ask, “Where’s Louise?”

Panickedly, Louise knows nothing better than to start stuffing napkins and wads of toilet paper into the saddle of her underpants. She is horrified to find that her pajama pants are soiled, too.

There is no sign of Rudy’s mom once she puts herself back together and pokes her head out of a crack in the bathroom door. Gingerly, Louise ventured to the kitchen, and found her there.

“Oh, hello, Louise,” Rudy’s mother said upon seeing her. “Is…everything okay?”

“I—need your help with something,” says Louise.

This unfortunately, would be Rudy’s mom’s first impression of Louise. “Okay…” she says—not really with concern, but as if to say, everyone’s told me that you’re trouble, so just let me know what it is we’re dealing with this time… “Why are you walking backwards?”

“Is this a lot?” Louise shows her the garbage can.

“Oh, honey. Do you have a second pair of pants?”

“Only my jeans,” she answered, mortified. “Is this more than a normal—”

“That depends, but…no, I don’t think so. Let me give your mom a ring,” Rudy’s mom said, closing the door on her.

“No!”

“Well honey, you need new clothes, and a change of underwear, and I don’t see how else—”

“—But you won’t tell her that—”

“Rudy!! Use the other bathroom!” his mother bellowed. Louise had barely registered the soft, timid knocks.

“It’s just—my Advair is in there, and it’s past 9PM…”

Hastily, Rudy’s mom grabbed the inhaler off the back of the toilet and crammed it through the crack in the door. Louise couldn’t remember another moment before in which she wanted to die on the spot.

“Is Louise okay?” Rudy asked tentatively.

“She’s fine. Just—take your medicine,” she said stonily.

“I want to go home,” Louise started.

“That can be arranged,” Rudy’s mom replied with a sigh.

Rudy’s mom leaves her unguarded to make that horrible phone call to the Belcher’s house. Well, her night is over. Immediately, she returns to the toilet. The napkins are already soiled! She unwrapped one of the pads Rudy’s mom left. Now alone, she silently started to cry.

“Hey Louise. Congrats on becoming a woman.”

Tina handed her the change of clothes through the door. “Will you keep your voice down?” hushed Louise. “Rudy doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“Oh. Well, I was gonna bring you your Boo Crew pants, because they’re black, but I didn’t wanna embarrass you so I landed on these Sanrio ones instead,” Tina said with only her chin through the door.

“Trust me, T. I could not be more embarrassed than I am right now. But, Sanrio was a good call,” she acknowledged.

“Phew,” said Tina.

When she finally left the bathroom, after what must have been 20 minutes, thankfully Tina and Linda were making good of packing Louise’s sleeping bag into the car. At least they were both trying their best to make this as painless as possible.

“I’m sorry you have to leave early, Louise,” said Rudy from behind.

They stood on the porch as Linda tried and struggled to get out of a parallel parking space on Rudy’s street. “I’m sorry too,” Louise replied. “But these Belcher bowels are just so unpredictable. You should have seen the poops that just came out of me, Rudy. They were violent. Fiery poops—just—liquid, and when it gets this bad, you can even get bloody diarrhea.” Rudy’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Louise shook her head. “That anti-inflammatory chicken salad that your mom made? I think it was almost too clean for my greasy intestines to handle. They’re not used to it, I guess.”

“That…sounds painful,” said Rudy.

“So very,” answered Louise. “Well, now you know about our family curse. Tina won’t admit it to anyone—but, she gets them too,” she whispered.

Rudy said, “Louise?”

“Yes, Rudy?”

“I have a step-sister who’s like, 25 on my dad’s side,” he spoke hesitantly. “So…I know what periods are.”

Louise froze. “You think this is funny?” Louise stormed at him. “I swear to God, if you mention this to anyone at school, I will rip your regular-sized head off, I mean it!”

“No! Why would I tell anyone about what happened?” exclaimed Rudy. “What I mean is…we’re buds, right? We tell each other stuff. And, I’m sure other kids in our class have it too, Chloe gets them—”

“I don’t trust a word out of Chloe’s mouth. She lies about everything, down to the brand of shampoo that she uses,” said Louise begrudgingly.

“True,” replied Rudy. “But, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, when you think about it…”

“Ugh, Rudy, please stop talking,” moaned Louise, face growing red as she grasped at her ears.

“No! What I meant to say was, we’re friends, and I know you’re embarrassed, but you don’t have to pretend in front of me. It was nice, hanging out with you outside of school—”

While talking, Rudy took a breath, and started to wheeze and cough. He dug his rescue inhaler out of his pajama pants pocket.

“Oh, buddy. You should probably step back inside. See you at school, Rudy.”

“Bye. Feel better, Louise.”

“Louise!” called Linda from the car. “Come on, we don’t wanna be late for your father, who’s been having that problem he’s been having.”

“Good luck with your flaming poops,” said Rudy somewhat breathlessly, and then winked. My God, that kid was bad at winking, Louise thought to herself as she descended his porch. His face just screws up, and it’s hard not to laugh at him.

“Louise!” hollered Linda.

“Rudy, are you alright? The Advair hasn’t had time to kick in yet I suppose…” Rudy gave a small wave before his mom ushered him back inside.

“We were so sneaky, regular-sized Rudy couldn’t have suspected a thing. I think this is where I can safely say, ‘mission accomplished,’” said Tina, pleased with herself.

“Yup. Good job, Tina,” answered Louise.

[emptybattlefield]

[emptybattlefield]

[emptybattlefield]

[emptybattlefield]

[emptybattlefield]

this one lives in my archives titled "cunty eridan"

[emptybattlefield]

artfight of Opal and Rey for Siilverartiist !!!

[emptybattlefield]

artfight for @kitkatsmol 's character, Layla!!

i love her :0

[emptybattlefield]

artfight for @8sharkie-bites8 !!

[emptybattlefield]

artfight revenge for @venomousdisperse / @venom-draws !! (Meenoh)

[emptybattlefield]

artfight for @matyfunarts 's characters! Demian and Angello!!

These two were so much fun to draw. I love them!

[emptybattlefield]

artfight for @twinkiplier !!!

[emptybattlefield]

artfight of Nahlee for @venom-draws / @venomousdisperse !!

[emptybattlefield]

artfight comic for @aleemie and her character Rokkit !