zertzertzhang

[zertzertzhang]

I Need a Hero (Literally) Chapter 2: Deal

The viceroy was a small man. 

By that, Nezha meant no taller than four feet. Yes. He was that tiny. 

It made Nezha want to excuse himself and forget he ever accepted the case. 

“Ahem,” Viceroy Chen cleared his throat. The proud haughtiness that shrouded him minutes before had drained from his body, leaving a puddle of apprehension in his wake.

Nezha could practically hear the gears in Viceroy Chen’s head turn as he debated if he should even trust him.

It was no secret the Viceroy held the same, if not, worse opinion regarding Nezha. The way his beady eyes bulged like he saw the grim reaper himself was comical if under different circumstances.

Though to be fair, Nezha found glee with the fact his mere presence could silence the imp-like man of all arrogant pretense.

It warmed his heart to think that the Viceroy would shut up as soon as he realized he was under the looming shadow of the much taller young man.

“I would like to express my appreciation, once again,” Viceroy Chen emphasized. “For offering to save my bride from the hideous dragon. I will be forever in your debt!”

Staring down at the groveling man, Nezha snorted at the saccharine monologue. If there’s one thing he learned about Chentang Pass over the years, it was the discouraging amount of genuine gratitude and appreciation the people really held inside.

Viceroy Chen was the hallmark of all that. And Nezha would rather choke on a tang-hulu than hear another fake thank you from the old man.

“So you’ll speak to the town on my behalf to allow me full freedom to roam Chentang without the headache from villagers.” It wasn’t a question, more like an affirmation.

Never in his life would Nezha ever find it in himself to beg for favors. He always assumed the silent agreement between him and anyone else would be respected, lest someone wished to become the next barbeque for the community picnic.

“Y-yes!” The Viceroy stretched his grin a bit too wide, compensating for his chattering teeth. “Bring my bride in one piece and your wish is at my command.”

The pompous confidence of the man was the last straw. Nezha didn’t bother to hide his contempt as he leered down at the four-footed Viceroy.

“Don’t get too excited,” Nezha snapped. “She ain’t your wife yet. Who knows maybe the dragon gobbled her up after all these years.”

His outburst earned him a hard slap upside the head from Lady Yin. The mother sent him a dirty look, stunning the young man into momentary silence.

“My apologies, Viceroy!” Lady Yin exclaimed. “He woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. He’s usually a sweetheart, I guarantee it!”

‘Sweetheart’ and ‘Nezha’ never existed in the same sentence. The fact that his mother, someone who his very existence tormented since day one, was the first to suggest so made him burst out cackling.

He never asked for compliments.

Slinging his waistcoat over his shoulders, Nezha blew out a whistle. “Whatever. I’ll get it done. Ya better pay up afterward or you’re dead meat.” 

Viceroy Chen whimpered a meek ‘of course’ before hitting the ground on his knees once more. Nezha wasn’t sure if he was begging for his life or repeating his broken record of thanks. 

Stupid. Tsking, he stepped out of the manor, ignoring the angry chatter from Lady Yin. Nezha hadn’t the heart to tell her to shut up, so he resorted to blocking the babble from her. One of the many perks of the reincarnation of a spirit orb.

His thoughts trailed back to the quivering Viceroy Chen, tangling into a throbbing mess that pulsed against his skull.

Whoever was in that pagoda was not going to have a happy wedding. Nezha still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact Chen had somehow become the Viceroy amongst all people. 

He shuddered at the thought of anyone willing to throw themselves at Chen. 

But Nezha was quick to jump over the negatives. At least the woman won’t be cursed anymore, so that’s a plus...He guessed.

Unlike him, no one was going to send a few kisses over and rid him of his problems.

There was no reason to feel sorry for some random stranger who had it better. Pushing the thoughts aside, Nezha found himself strolling near towards the beach, away from Li Manor. 

The sun was more than halfway done with its descent behind the mountains, reminding Nezha of the long journey from the Viceroy's manor. 

He craved a good stretch after sitting on a horse for hours on end.

Lady Yin noticed his change in route and was on edge in an instant. “Wait Nezha! Where are you going?”

Said man didn’t bother to turn around, rather waving a hand. “I need some time alone. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“But-”

“Relax, mom!” Nezha snapped. “I’m not gonna eat the kids.”

It wasn’t like Lady Yin was in the condition to stop him anyway. No one could. Nezha was off his steed within seconds, darting into the woods before anyone could open their mouths to protest. 

The night had just made its entrance not long enough when Nezha found his way back to the beach. He prayed it would help smooth the firing nerves he held down for the entirety of the morning, it usually did the trick. 

But the unrelenting growth of an uncomfortable churn in his gut stayed, not budging an inch. It drove him to a mental frenzy knowing he couldn’t control it.

“Ha! Knew you'd be here!” Taiyi’s face popped into Nezha’s view upside down without warning, nearly sending the young man flying backward.

“The hell old man?!”

Nezha almost felt a yelp escape him, but was thankful that it failed to do so. There was no telling what would happen to Taiyi if he caught Nezha ‘acting out of character’ again. 

Recalling the last time he wanted to beat Taiyi’s ass in, Nezha’s mind somersaulted before landing back to reality. Right, he promised himself he still had to set Taiyi’s pants on fire.

Unfortunately for Nezha, the slight gleam in his eyes revealed too much.

His master picked up on the red alarms in a second’s notice. Giggling, the deity bounced back a few feet, wagging his finger in Nezha’s face again.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Taiyi said. “I just got these last week on sale, too! You’ll have to wait a bit before you rip ‘em.”

Nezha snorted. “Sure. Be prepared for the double debt. I’ve wanted to go at you for a while now.”

Taiyi widened his eyes with comical intent, putting a hand over his chest in a horrid attempt to look heartbroken.

His student wasn’t impressed.

“You know gods don’t have heart problems right?” Nezha added. Raising a brow, he gave Taiyi a thumbs down.

Grumbling a string of unintelligible words, Taiyi glared. “You know you’re really petty right?”

“Nice to meet you too, kettle,” Nezha retorted, revealing his canines in a sharp smile. A smug look was rewarded to Taiyi, who’s face went through three shades of red.

“Garrrrgh!” Taiyi plopped down next to the youth, out of breath and comebacks. “You win.”

Nezha knew him well enough to know that the deity wasn’t just there to bicker over who had the best debating skills. But he wasn’t interested in beating around the bush this time.

“Seriously, what do you want now.”

Grabbing a pebble from the sand, Nezha made a neat toss to the waters, letting it skid across before sinking to the dark depths.

He waited, all the while digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

“Saw you didn’t come back,” Taiyi said. “Thought you died or something. Viceroy Chen has a very spiky reputation.” 

“Piss off!” Nezha growled. He rolled his eyes and trudged further into the water. “He nearly shat himself today.”

Taiyi didn’t relent. “Hey, I was just worried! You never come here for nothing.”

It was going to take a broken tooth to get Nezha to cooperate, and it was obvious it wasn’t going to be today. The deity sighed, flicking his feather duster in exasperation.

Oh, how he wanted to whoop that kid’s ass.

“Just thinking about things,” Nezha replied. Letting out a loud exhale, he continued, “Wondering how that friend would do if he were in my shoes.” 

His sudden response had Taiyi’s brows arching in inhumanly shaped degrees. Nezha never revealed his deepest notions without putting up a fight...Maybe ‘never’ was a stretch, but still.

Taiyi looked like he wasn’t sure what to believe. His perturbed pout of the lips reminded Nezha of a stunned fish out of water. 

“Dude, you look like you’re gonna kiss somebody,” Nezha joked. But his antics flew over his master’s head.

Clearing his throat, the deity threw him a look, not bothering with an argument of his own. The shift in Taiyi’s gaze turned to one of apprehension as if he was afraid of the conversation’s direction.

“You thinking of that old friend again? The one who played shuttlecock with you?”

“Yeah,” Nezha admitted. “It’s been a year since I’ve seen him.” 

He kicked another rock into the sea, whistling as he did so. Despite being a proficient master at masking his discomfort, Nezha had times when even the great bastard child himself couldn’t hide the unease on his face.

His fingers traced the wet sand, mindlessly painting creases onto the smooth canvas, then letting the tides wash it off. 

A curse gets lifted, someone gets married, and I get to fight a dragon. What’s not to like? 

The nagging pit in his stomach returned, tugging at Nezha’s mind like an unrelenting leach. Embarrassment had his cheeks flaming red, reminding him of his inability to even think straight. 

He prayed it wasn’t guilt he felt, given that his motto since day one was to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. The uncomfortable pressure in his chest was a pain in the arse, especially when there’s nothing to feel sorry about. Or at least he hoped.

Nezha was so into his head that he failed to detect the nearing footsteps above him. A pinch of his ears sent him howling, clutching at the pointed tips like they’d been cut off.

An overreaction, for sure, but Nezha wasn’t going to admit that.

“You know you still have me, right?” Taiyi asked. His lack of remorse over Nezha’s ears did him no favors as the latter scooted away in an instant.

“Of course,” Nezha grounded. “A wonderful friend who is so obsessed with me that he stalks me wherever I go.”

He hissed at him to make a point.

Taiyi whimpered. Nezha was positive he was seconds away from a breakdown, with the old man’s eyes enlarging into spheres the size of apples. 

The deity stomped his feet. “That’s because I care about you, ya little ingrate! I wiped your mess so many times I lost count. And here I am, thinking that we’re pals.”

Nezha wished his eyes would stay stuck to the back of his head. Thank god Taiyi was sober. He wasn’t down to haul a god with his magnified sensitivity back home at this time of day.

“Quit the guilt-trippin, old geezer.” He handed a spare handkerchief towards his master but made sure he stayed as far away as possible. God snot was not sparkling rainbows as people should know. 

Taiyi was back to his old self in a flash, completely disregarding his previous stance. Snatching the cloth away, the deity’s face lit up like a midnight lamp in the dark.

“See! We are friends! I bet I’m the only sappy old man to ever make you offer tissues,” Taiyi insisted. 

Nezha glowered. “Shut up!” 

His master beamed his vast mouth of teeth at him, inching closer while he was at it. “Ok la!” 

He plopped himself right next to Nezha, wiggling his butt into the sand as he tried to find the perfect position. After what felt like hours of him grunting and shuffling for the right comfort, Taiyi found the equilibrium.

Then he fell silent….Very silent. 

For once, Nezha thought even the crickets were the loudest things on Earth.

He could feel Taiyi’s eyes boring holes into the side of his face, but he held his ground, refusing to look back. The serene peace was much appreciated; he’d rather not break it.

If only he wasn’t that naive. If only he didn’t speak that fast. Because Taiyi couldn’t make it past five minutes. 

“So...When are we gonna leave?” The deity prodded him with his feather duster, oblivious to the twitching muscles on the youth’s face.

Nezha allowed himself to fall backward onto the sand face up, defeated.

He sighed. "Tomorrow."

Then it hit him straight in the chest.

Wait. What?! We-?

“Who’s ‘we’?” Nezha whipped around to Taiyi so hard he heard his neck snap. “Who’s ‘we’?!”

The deity twirled his feather duster, avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, y’know. With all the fancy dragons and whatnot, I gotta come with you,” Taiyi said. When he saw the darkening shadows spread across Nezha’s face like wildfire, he backpedaled. 

“Plus, it’s more bonding time!” the deity added.

Nezha wanted to hit himself with a brick and pass out. He’d be lucky if he could even find a rock that could accomplish such a thing. 

“That’s what I meant,” he retorted. “You’re a literal stalker.”

Kicking a wave of sand at Taiyi, he stood up afterwards to dust himself off. His master paid no attention to the weak assault and continued his barrage of explanations.

“Why do you make it sound like I’m so desperate,” Taiyi wailed. “I’m simply doing my job of protecting my student and making sure he’s improving.”

Nezha snorted. “Yeah, right. More like making sure I’m on a leash.” 

Taiyi rolled to a standing position, albeit teetering back and forth. “I’m serious! I gotta keep an eye on you. Besides, I’ve got a bunch of magical treasures that could come in handy!” 

The attempt to convince Nezha tumbled into a pool of dung. But the last remark struck a reminder in Nezha. A lightbulb lit in his head as he came to a conclusion. The young man smirked as he stepped closer to the deity, an arm stretched out with an expecting hand.

“Give me the spear and sash and we’re good, old man,” he said. 

Taiyi shook his head at the offer. Clutching his belt like his life depended on it, he did his best to scowl at Nezha. “Nuh-uh. That’s not happening.”

The deity’s stubbornness made his student laugh. 

“Don’t make me light your ass on fire again,” Nezha warned. He held up a finger, a small flame already dancing around his hand, waiting for its command.

The color drained from Taiyi’s cheeks as he gulped down a big lump.

“Can’t do that. I Locked ‘em in a secret stash for emergency use.”

Nezha huffed. “Then unlock it.”

Crossing his arms, he stared down at the shorter god, not in any mood to drop the case. Under the circumstances, one would think Nezha could tower over a grown man. 

But that didn’t move Taiyi one bit. “I said I can’t. It’s got a password.”

By that point, Nezha lost all hope for any sense of normalcy. He needed to smash a rock. Badly.

Slapping a hand to his forehead, the youth threw a burning glare at his master.

“You forgot it didn’t you?”   

Taiyi rubbed the back of his head, mumbling something under his breath. “I don’t think so. I swear it’s on a paper somewhere back home.”

Realizing that there wasn’t going to be a way around him, Nezha slumped back. Taiyi was smart if he wanted to be. Whatever it was, he wasn’t getting his precious spear back. 

“Fine. You can come,” Nezha said. “Just don’t fuck things up.” 

“When did I ever?!” Taiyi complained. He extended the feather duster, trying to whack Nezha. There wasn’t a need to dodge it. The latter snorted, not impressed with the lack of effort. 

Nezha sighed. “Nevermind.”

He reclined back onto the sand, hands propping him up. The twisting feeling in his gut waned, but the residual spasms were still there. 

Getting married to a viceroy wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a woman. And from the looks of Chen’s estate, he wasn’t lacking in the financial realm. 

Nezha smirked. It was probably the only height of his character, if he had any of that in the first place, of course. That princess was a lucky one.

Fuck it. No one ever thought of it. So why should I?

Shoving the last thoughts around Chen to the back of his mind, Nezha exhaled and rolled to his side. 

The cool gust of wind caressed his cheeks, whispering their soothing lullaby. Sleep was inviting him to its cave, and after a day like this, Nezha didn’t have the mind to refuse.

He was that close to closing his eyes when a tap on the head brought him to the surface of reality.

“Hey don’t fall asleep here!” Taiyi scolded. “Your mother’s not gonna let me live it down.”

Nezha felt the rush of burning flames course to the tips of his finger. A devilish grin broke into his lips. There wasn’t anyone there to rat him out. 

“You asked for it, old man.”

“W-wait stop! Help!” Taiyi shot up into the sky, a blast of light trailing after his rear-end like fireworks. 

In Nezha’s defense, the deity created exquisite colors. His only regret was not doing it sooner.

“You filthy lil’ brat!” His master’s voice rained from the top. “I told you this was new!”

But all Taiyi got in return was howling laughter from the young man below. Remorse wasn’t that popular in Nezha’s vocabulary, so an apology wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

A hint of a smile tugged at Nezha’s lips. At least he felt much better now.

Now that he thought about it, gods made really good fireworks.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --

Ao Bing watched as a general scrambled for the tower’s exit.

In just one year of guarding the East Sea Pagoda, he was able to draw a rough idea of all generals within the lands. They were crude, arrogant, boastful, and mannerless. 

The one taking his leave had created a new label all for himself; stupid. It wasn’t a word Ao Bing was proud of using. In fact, a tiny part of his pride cracked the moment he realized the man had tried to use a demon-repelling spell against him.

It did the general zero favors when he came bursting in while proclaiming his undying love for the maiden like he had known her for all his life. 

He waxed poetic about her smile, which he hadn't seen. He sang praises about her laugh, which he hadn’t heard. He went on for miles describing her hair, which he never touched. 

Furthermore, he made Ao Bing’s head throb with pity for whoever may have caught the monstrosity of a speech. 

The rescue party ended much worse compared to the others. If he was being honest, Ao Bing wouldn’t even want to consider it an attempt at all. 

He didn’t get the chance to practice his Thousand-Year Frozen Palm technique. There was no point. A single punch would’ve sent the general packing.

Humans were a double-edged sword. One moment they were the kindest souls, and the other they were hideous beings with no self-control whatsoever. 

Ao Bing was beginning to understand the unified distaste towards them from his clan. Take a man like that general and multiply it by the thousands and humanity would be littered with scum that could still call themselves a ‘man’.

Claws retracting, the dragon prince turned his head towards the room at top of the pagoda. 

The princess was staring at him. Her full lips pressed into a grim line, disappointment painted all over her features. A small voice inside Ao Bing’s head hoped she didn’t hear the other colorful things the general said.

If he himself couldn’t hold back the urge to vomit at the words of the man, he didn’t want to know how she would react if she did.

Thank god he never appeared in his human form in front of her, the guilt on his face would’ve eaten him alive.

She let out a visible exhale, before closing the windows with a hard thud. Ao Bing felt the rattle through the core of his bones.

It was surprisingly hard to tell whether or not she despised him. Even with the reality of him being her jailor, she had tried to get him talking multiple times since he started his mission; mostly pointless questions around mundane things. 

As per Shen Gong-Bao’s request, Ao Bing never turned up in human form, never spoke back, and never initiated a single interaction. It was a good idea, though. He couldn’t have his emotions blocking him in the long run.

The curse wasn’t for him to break. There was nothing he could do.

But the cold sweat of shame ran down his spine, seeping into the skin of his back. It made him queasy, though he didn’t dare voice it.

Ao Bing sighed, padding across the palace. It was easier to think of his people whenever his mind wandered too far.

Yes, He was doing this for them.

Ao Bing’s thoughts rang a bell, as the familiar footsteps of Shen echoed in the hallways as soon as he finished his musings.

Forming from the shadows like a phantom of the night, the leopard demon morphed into the shape of a human. His yellow eyes glowed beyond the dark like burning amber. The brewing colors hid the storms of thunderous unrest despite his master’s poised exterior. 

“I-I-I assume you h-have mastered the T-Thousand-Year F-froz-z-en Palm technique?” Shen inquired. His spindly fingers thumped against one another in frantic dance, betraying his calm veneer.

Ao Bing made no attempt to hide his progress, saluting Shen with a confident bow.

“I have, Master. I’ve perfected bloodstream paralysis of pressure points. It can now be done in one strike.”

Shen Gong-Bao was elated. His eyes narrowed into crescent-shaped moons as he clapped his hands. Even Ao Bing had to admit it was very rare to see his master genuinely smile. 

It raised the young dragon’s spirits somewhat.

“E-excellent!” Shen rested a clawed hand on Ao Bing’s shoulder, patting him with good nature. “You’re o-on the right t-track-k! You’ll be able t-t-to overpower the d-demon orb s-soon enough!”

The mention of the demon pill sent Ao Bing’s horns vibrating with nervous anticipation. There was no room for him to mess up.

All he had to do was track down the reincarnation of the demon orb, hold him off long enough in front of thousands of humans to be struck by lightning, and then win the Jade Emperor’s favor. 

His father would be freed, and it would be worth all the blood he shed along the past three years. 

Shen broke into his thoughts once more, rattling his trail of plans out loud. 

“Who knew th-that this girl’s c-curse would serve as the best t-tr-training g-ground for you. I-I’d have to thank w-w-whatever s-stupid god that did it.”

Ao Bing forced a smile to the surface. He wasn’t too keen on getting into the details of the curse. The less he knew the better. 

But his body failed to find a muscle to refuse the beaming leopard demon in front of him. He hated to disappoint, and over nothing at that.

Glancing up at his master with stifled unease, Ao Bing waited for the next command.

“Y-your father would be p-pr-proud of you,” Shen continued. “You’ve a-accomplished more th-things than any members of y-your clan could dream of. You j-ju-just have to defeat the demon orb now. I-I have faith in your s-success.”

A calculating gleam flashed across Shen’s eyes, silencing the doubts in Ao Bing’s mind. The young dragon felt a cold wave of resolution wash over his back.

His master was right; winning was the only choice. Ao Bing couldn’t have anything in his way. 

Life was never known for its fairness in all the years he’d been alive. What did he expect?

  The dragon prince felt the corners of his lips tug downward. He should be grateful for how the events turned out, worse things could’ve happened. 

It was as good as it was going to get for everyone.

[zertzertzhang]

I Need a Hero Chapter One

Synospis: Seen as the demon bastard of his village, Nezha is sent on a quest to redeem his character. It was supposed to be simple. Rescue the maiden, marry her off to the viceroy, collect community service points, and done. He really didn't think one mission alone was all that it took to unravel his past, present, and future like an onion. When a cursed princess swamps him under a horde of secrets, he is faced with two choices; accept fate...or fight it.*A story loosely (or largely) based on good ol' Shrek with some other influences sprinkled here and there for giggles.

Once upon a time, in a palace far, far away, lived a maiden. Said to be the fairest of her kingdom, she was doomed to spend twenty years in solitude, locked away from all life. A curse was placed upon her, only to be broken by true love's first kiss.

If she was not saved by her twentieth birthday, then her soul would be claimed by the Dragon Lord of the East Sea.

Her true face was never seen by anyone, as the tower was guarded by a terrible dragon.

Many have tried to free her from this dreadful prison, from the warriors of the state to the princes of Agrabah. None prevailed.

Thus the maiden waited in her chambers, in the highest room of the tallest pagoda, still waiting for her true love...And true love's first kiss-

"What a load of bull!"

Nezha busted out laughing. It was a bitter sound that bounced off the walls, traveling at least half a corridor down the hall.

An ear-grating tear echoed from the rooms of Li Manor as a frustrated shout followed just seconds after.

The double doors flew open with a terrifying bang, revealing the youngest young master storming around his room in a fit of disbelief.

"People still read this shit?!" Nezha forced a harsh laugh that scraped at the butler's eardrums. "Bring me better reading material next time or else I'll send you flying to the nine levels of hell and back!"

His pointed finger at one of the butlers was enough to send the latter teetering over the edge of an epileptic seizure.

The poor butler could only sputter as he tried every method in the book to lessen his suffering "Y-yes! Young master! I apologize for my transgression! Next time-"

"There's no next time!" Nezha fumed. "One more stupid story from you and I'll take my leave to the village where I can actually have fun!"

A lopsided grin broke across Nezha's face while he uttered the last words, as if just thinking about seeing the horrified faces of the villagers could serve as ample entertainment. The dimwitted guards by the manor would be no match for him if he really wanted to leave.

It would seem that it was inevitable for a run in with the law that day. Paying no attention to the stuttering servant next to him, Nezha frowned, debating the pros and cons over leaving right then and there.

"Young master," the butler started, "how would you like to-"

Nezha interrupted with a swift wave of a hand. "Scram already!"

To add to his point, the young man snapped his gaze to the quivering butler, scowling for good measure. It worked, as expected.

The older man scrambled backwards, squeaking for mercy. But he didn't need to go far, for the subject of his terror had long left the spot where he had originally stood. Nezha was on the rooftops in a blink of an eye.

"W-wait!" The butler tried to climb over the decorative stones, only to find himself hanging by the sides of the ledge like a helpless kitten. "Where are you going, young master?!"

At the sight of such, Nezha smirked. He made no attempt to help the butler up to his level.

"You gotta try harder than that."

"But you can't go out the manor!" the butler wailed. "Master Li has specific orders that you-"

"Stay in for the rest of your life," Nezha cut in for the upteenth time. "I heard it the first time."

Cracking his knuckles, he let out an obnoxious yawn before looking down at the latter with utmost boredom. "But anyways, I'll see ya later!"

The mischievous smile never left his face as he hopped down from his perch, disappearing from the butler's vision just as fast as he did before.

It was futile to attempt to control Nezha, especially now that he had grown right into his adolescent form. Had it been a year earlier he would've still been a child no older than eight. Even then, the demon child was a living nightmare, but at least he could be consoled with a few magical trinkets.

The Nezha now was a bottle of raging hormones a few buttons away from implosion. His butler didn't want to entertain the idea of some unsuspecting villager accidentally triggering his fury, thus adding more to the Li Family's monthly bill.

There was still more renovation needed for the living room. Nezha had created a hole right in the middle of Li Manor square during one of his 'experiments'. And that alone sucked hundreds of pounds of gold into construction fees.

Putting two and two together, the butler slapped a hand over his hand, inches away from a mental breakdown. He had to come up with an excuse as to how he let Nezha slip away.

He had to save his own ass at least.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Not a lot of effort went into devising a plan to escape the manor. Hell, the word 'escape' never registered in Nezha's head over the two years since he began his daily avoidance from the manor servants.

In a second's time, he could turn himself into a maid. So a maid he did turn himself to.

With the excuse of buying the daily grocery, Nezha had no trouble in slipping past the manor guards. The duo of metallic chumps had no doubts, lifting the spell between the doors just enough for the disguised maid out the building.

If he could, Nezha would've been on the floor convulsing with laughter by now. There was nothing more hilarious than repeatedly fooling the same people around him with the same tricks every time, and still getting away with it.

Not bothering with another extra thought, Nezha made a beeline towards the main entrance of Chentang Pass.

The fun was just getting started.

Crunch.

His feet squandered a pitiful branch below him with a brittle snap. Nezha didn't bother with his usual surreptitious style of tormenting the villagers. Weeks of the same old pop and scream had taken to the boring side for him.

He wanted something fresh.

Like he predicted, heads snapped in his direction the moment his bare foot stepped into the street market. The stares from people were like an automatic feature the town had inserted for him.

All sounds of life came to a screeching halt in his presence. Even the leaves seemed like they had minds of their own and stopped rustling as soon as Nezha popped up.

Dead silence washed across the mass, readying its ugly fingers around their necks, urging them to scream.

The way his tendons popped as his slender fingers clenched to fists sounded akin to a bone-crusher readying himself for a new victim. It was of no help that the young man's inhuman mark glowed with his excitement.

Before Nezha, a man towards the front of the market opened his mouth. His distorted face combined with the growing tint of purple on his cheeks was a good indicator of the things that were about to spout from his lips.

It's the demon! Run for your lives! Get away!

Nezha waved lazily at them, their old scripts running through his head like a broken record. It was impossible to get them to think of something more enticing to say about his grand entrance.

For a moment, Nezha actually feared that the illiterates before him could only speak those three phrases. Crossing his arms, he allowed the grin on his lips to morph into a wolfish smile.

"You all know the drill right?" Nezha beat the man to the talking punch. "I don't need to say more than I have to."

The unified gasp was a good indicator that they got the message. Nezha scoffed.

"One."

All at once, sound rushed back to the village as screams shot through the air like a needle piercing through flesh. Under the dust of everyone shuffling at the same time, civilians stepped over one another in a frenzied attempt to hurl themselves into the nearest shelter they could find.

Soon, it was every man for himself. No place was barred from being taken up by bodies: pots, cabinets, closets, haystacks, and coffins, too.

"Four."

If the squawking chickens and kicking cows weren't a sight enough, a few villagers had somehow come to the conclusion that as long as they couldn't see him, then he couldn't see them.

"Eight."

There were times when Nezha wanted so desperately to capture the scene before him in his mind and replay it by himself in his room for shits and giggles. He wanted to memorize each and every wrinkle of terror everyone made, taking in the affects he could have on them.

"Ten." He uttered the last number with soft delicacy, but anyone with a brain could hear the restrained agitation seeping under the words.

Nezha was losing patience. Flinging an apple onto the head of a still running man, he marked the beginning of hide-and-seek with a screech from the villager.

The man skidded onto the ground in a thud, shivering uncontrollably. Something about the way he curled up into a ball, avoiding eye contact with him irked Nezha.

A grown ass man can't be that much of a coward?! I didn't even throw that hard!

Nezha scowled, passing the fallen civilian without as much as another glance.

He shouted into the void, "I hope everyone's gonna try harder than this! Ready or not, here I come!"

It was too easy; some failed to cover their mouths as they breathed in and out like a dragon in battle. Despite going on about it for over two years, the village never improved.

There was no point for Nezha to use his heightened senses to scope out the 'players'. They might as well hold up a sign that scribbled 'I'm right here!' at that point. Running finger along the cement walls in a haphazard manner, he whistled a jolly tune too festive for the tension around him,

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" Nezha called. Lifting the lid off of an empty wine pot, he feigned surprise at the lack of shrieks.

He could hear the one person in the next pot over practically whimpering under their cover. The fear must've been great enough for the entire container to shake.

Nezha hummed to himself as he stepped towards the pot, twirling a branch in his hands. With a languid drag, his feet thudded against the dirt ground with emphasized force. A tiny squeak echoed from the container, officially giving away to the person within.

"Hmm." Nezha stroked the other pots besides it almost lovingly. "Now where did ya go?"

Fwip. The pot second to the left was slapped away. Each smash of a china elicited a shriek. If Nezha had a third eye, he swore he would see the fear radiating in the last pot of the bunch.

His smile grew; playtime was over now.

Reaching over, Nezha wrapped his fingers over the handles, breathing in the anticipated rush of adrenaline the shear horror from the man would bring.

Lips peeling back to reveal sharp canines, the young man readied his most terrifying expression. At the same time, the villager inside prepared himself to beg for mercy.

Funny enough, it would appear that his prayers were answered, because the lid never opened.

Instead, Nezha's eyes were glued to the posters nailed onto the columns over his head. The stark contrast of red against white caught his attention. A warrant of some kind had been posted all over the town square.

It had to be fresh; the last time he had been in Chentang's center, Nezha didn't notice such a thing. Littering the walls of restaurants and stands, the warrants were hard to miss.

Without a second thought, Nezha's arm shot out and tore off a poster. Even the ink smelled like it had just been stamped onto the paper.

"Viceroy of Chentang calls for any brave warrior willing to rescue his bride, the maiden of the East Sea Pagoda. If successful, the reward of one hundred thousand taels of gold and twenty acres of land..." Nezha mumbled out the information in a string of low growls.

Pathetic.

In a huff, he crumpled the paper, tossing it aside. It sounded like some cheesy bedtime story plastered into reality, and he couldn't help but remember the stupid fairytale he'd read earlier in the morning.

As much as Nezha appreciated the celestial aspects of life, sappy legends were very much barf-inducing, real or not. He had seen enough men who forced others to fight their own battles to not give a hoot for this dime a dozen opportunity.

Agitation spiked through his veins. He realized he wasted a good minute of his time mulling over a poster. It almost derailed him from his original plans. Speaking of which...

Nezha chuckled, eyes zoning back to the quivering pot next to him. Throwing all thoughts of the fairytale out the window, he cracked his knuckles.

There was still a town left to scare.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Li-Jing's voice boomed over the courtyard, threatening to take down trees had he been any louder. The deep baritone made matters worse, echoing off the buildings like an angry thunder god seconds away from blasting lightning to the ground.

"I am about done with you!"

The servants scurried back to their quarters, not bothering to deliver dinner. Though, it didn't sound like the Li Family was hungry either.

Clustered around the mess of a room, Li-Jing and Lady Yin were currently looming over a lounging Nezha, who clearly wasn't going to pretend to give them an audience.

"What must I say to make you obey me?" Li-Jing demanded. "The village's tolerance of you is waning! One more misshape and they'll be at your neck!"

The threat made no difference in aiding their argument. If anything, the fine lines between Nezha's brows creased deeper, forming harsh valleys contorting his face in the most horrifying way possible.

He snapped, "And why do I care? That's what they said last time. If they really had the guts, they'd be dead by now."

Venomous abhorrence spewed from the youth, matching the volume of his father's with no trouble.

Li-Jing narrowed his eyes, balling his fists at his sides.

Not thrilled to see another fistfight break out, Lady Yin rested a hand against his back, trying desperately to reel her husband back from the land of rage.

The general was at his limits. In spite of all the training with Taiyi in the past two years, the volatile nature never left Nezha.

Reality crushed Li-Jing with an insufferable amount of pressure that he swore his back would break if it got any worse.

"You're not helping!" the general argued. "The more you retaliate, the more monsters you have to slay to appease them. You'll be back in square one."

Out of everything Li-Jing said, one of the words seemed to trigger Nezha, because the latter was up in his father's face in a flash, teeth baring like a wild boar beaten to a corner.

"So what," Nezha hissed through gritted teeth. "That's for me and me only! I'm not slaying monsters to make them happy. Those ingrates could rot for all I care!"

It didn't take a grand scholar to see that Li-Jing wanted to slam his own head against the poles.

Chen-Tang's general, held to the highest standard of all citizens, couldn't even control his own son. It wasn't clear if the red tint on his cheeks was from anger or embarrassment.

Lady Yin, on the other hand, didn't appear to give up. "Please, Nezha. I'll stay with you longer tomorrow. Just promise mother you won't go out like that again."

Nezha let out a bitter chuckle. Her consolidation had long lost its meaning to him. After the thirtieth time she failed her promise, he stopped counting. The efforts to calm him only served as an insult to his wounds.

"I wouldn't dream of holding you back," Nezha slurred. "Save your pity party for next time."

He rose to excuse himself, but the arm of his father appeared in his way, blocking the exit. Nezha did a double-take, but he could feel the smoldering indignation rising at incredible speed.

"That's not gonna stop me."

Li-Jing sighed. "Son, I understand your frustrations. But what happened today happened, and we need to do something about it."

"No we don't." Adamancy was Nezha's strong suit.

"I know you better than you'd think," his father retorted. "You want them to accept you. But every time some villager gets to you, you go right back to your old self. It's not doing favors for any of us. We only want you to be happy. And you do, too. But you know you won't get any better by terrorizing them."

A slight twitch at the corners of Nezha's lips was a bigger sign than all else. He was listening, albeit begrudgingly.

Exhaling in relief, Li-Jing took the silent invitation to go on. At least he had a foot in the door now.

"There might be a few assignments we could give you," he continued. "They're not boring for sure. You might have to get physical with a few demons, though. But it could come in handy for training."

At the sound of demons, Nezha made a rigid turn towards his father, his pointed ears stood at attention. As long as he had the chance to put his two-years worth of training to work, anything was negotiable.

Li-Jing knew he had his son's full interest. He just had to give one more nudge and-

Bang!

A crash exploded by the doors, slapping all three Li's from their stare-down. Li-Jing groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. They had everything smoothed over, inches away from calming Nezha, and this motherf- just had to ruin it.

The general whipped his gaze to the dusty entrance, mouth open to unleash a slew of grievances, before his eyes widened at the sight of the guest.

Standing over the crumbles of what was left of the gates, Taiyi stumbled over his two left feet, mumbling something about wine and pretty women.

Nezha couldn't roll his eyes any harder. His master was undoubtedly drunk over his head, maybe even rejected by a few girls on the streets. The scene before him was too familiar.

Huffing, he glared. "Get lost, old geezer. I'm in the middle of something."

Taiyi ignored his demand, instead sauntering over in a giddy fashion like he just discovered the next best thing.

"Yohohoho!" The stench of alcohol escaped from the deity's mouth, gagging the poor audience around him. "Found the next adventure for ya, boy! I Overheard tha 'hole thing back there!"

Nezha growled. "You could've at least knocked!"

Taiyi snorted, patting his beer belly. "Can't a retired model relive his catwalk entrance?"

If he thought that was supposed to be funny, then he flopped hard. Nezha's previous agitation was on the rise once more, this time with full force.

"Spit it out already, old man! Can't you see I'm busy?!"

"Jeez," Taiyi complained. "Alright, alright! I found the perfect mission to repair your majesty's tarnished reputation, you little ingrate."

The deity grounded the last words in a whisper, trying but obviously failing to hide his distaste. Nezha's enhanced hearing caught it without a problem.

In light of his hammered state, Nezha stayed silent despite feeling a vein pop. There was always another day to light Taiyi's pants on fire.

"Spit. It. Out," he grounded.

Taiyi seemed to find amusement in twirling Nezha's mood, opting to wag a finger in front of the youth's face. The god knew his ass was going to pay for it later, but the petty in him had to take the opportunity.

Fumbling through his many pockets, Taiyi's face lit up with child-like jubilation at the sound of crinkling paper.

Nezha was not prepared to have a smelly and stained piece of parchment shoved into his face. He was sure if Taiyi had another pot of alcohol, he would've straight up crashed into him instead.

His master wiggled his caterpillar of a brow.

"Ya interested in some dragonslayin'?"

It took Nezha a moment to come back down to Earth. He snatched the paper, scowling at the deity before him. Focusing on the words of the parchment, the young man almost coughed blood at the sudden recognition.

It was the warrant for the princess.

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A/N: QUICK! Somebody insert Allstar in the scene! ;)

[zertzertzhang]

Stand and Deliver: My Life Turned Upside Down CH.3

A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr, so please bear with me! I am usually active on FFNet and AO3, but since this fandom is basically nonexistent except for here, I thought maybe I could post my works for this movie here. The story is a fanfic based on the 1988 movie ‘Stand and Deliver’ starring Edward James Olmos, taking a deeper look into the lives of the impoverished students in East LA.

Eventual Angel/OC, and warnings of racial slurs with some physical violence.

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Chapter Three: Living Skills

By the time she rolled into the second week of Garfield High, Vianne was sure she saw the school at its worst. Had she been honest with herself, she would’ve thought she was beginning to get used to the rioting students. It was a surprise that she became somewhat good at blocking the excess noise from them.

Hateful stares and whispered insults about her ethnicity waned as the week dragged on. The initial weariness she felt from the people around her dropped as she kept to herself. Call it paranoia or what, she could sense the heavy atmosphere boring onto her back as she passed the lockers. It was hard imagining a whole year of silence. 

Vianne never saw herself as a quiet wallflower, but the situation at hand forced her mouth shut for far too long. The need to talk to someone had been building up since the day she arrived. If this was going to stretch out any longer, she could see herself  talking to random objects within her peripheral vision. As if the students needed another excuse to deepen the ostracization. In her own way, Vianne was in solitary confinement.

Wait why do I need them?! 

She shook her head, angry at her own slip up. There was no need for her to make any contact with people like that. Loneliness must've been a powerful force for her, for she now wanted communication from the very people set out to destroy her life. And it tore her dignity to shreds.

Biting the fleshy pulp of her lips, Vianne exhaled. There were still two more periods before she could jump into her car and drive home. Living Skills was next on her schedule, so she had to trudge across campus to her destination. The signs pointing to her class became clear as she neared the hallway. 

With five minutes before the second bell, Vianne discovered the almost empty room. It was custom for things like that to happen. Usually, people were either late or scrambling in at the last second. To her, that was a blessing. Any area could be taken for her choosing.

She spotted Ana by the side near the windows. The bespectacled young woman turned her head to look at her when she arrived at the scene. A shy smile crossed Ana’s face, and she waved. Vianne quirked her lips in an awkward attempt to smile back.

Ana was friendly, not just to her. A pang of guilt vibrated along Vianne’s chest. She felt a bit extreme in condemning everyone in the school; at least Ana made an effort to make her feel welcomed. It was because of that Vianne didn’t pull out her hair during Math 1A, so she owed it to her.

“Hey.” A soft greeting slipped from Vianne as she approached the desk. 

Ana shuffled some books to the side, creating space for her. “Hi! How was your lunch?”

Vianne sighed. “I’ve had better. The heat melted my sandwich.” She left out the part where she sat by herself for two whole weeks, not wanting to sound like some loser.

Her metaphor made Ana giggle lightly. It reminded her of the bells twinkling on the front door back in Napa; Vianne thought it to be rather calming. A breath of fresh air away from the screaming students was a surprising luxury around here.

“I know a place where there's an air conditioner,” Ana said. “You can come eat with me if you’d like.” 

The invitation caught Vianne off guard, prompting her to nearly drop her pencil. Ana still held her hopeful smile, like a lost puppy. That and the desperation to find cold air sold the deal.

Vianne grinned. “That'd be great. I’ll catch you after math tomorrow.” A satisfied hum left her as she leaned against the chair. It was nice to have a lunch buddy. 

It didn’t take long for the starting bell to ring. Mrs. Flores entered the class with a large trunk, followed by a hoard of people behind her. Everyone fought for a seat, breaking the calm atmosphere in seconds. Both Vianne and Ana resisted the urge to roll their eyes.

Mrs. Flores was a cheery plump woman in her sixties. Her floral dress was matched with a mint green camisole, making Vianne think of daisies and dandelions in a summer field. A pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, giving her a jolly appearance of a librarian. Viane would reckon she’d keep a hidden stash of toffee under a desk somewhere for the children. 

“Settle down, settle down!” The teacher’s chirpy voice broke through the crowd. “I have an announcement to make!”

An exasperated glance was thrown at them as Mrs. Flores shuffled to the front podium. Her arms came up, hands clasping together in enthusiastic excitement. 

“I’m happy to introduce you all to our project of the semester,” she began. “There will be two parts, with each section worth fifty points. This will be a partnered assignment, so I expect you all to be friendly with one another.” 

Mrs. Flores gave them another knowing look, as if to warn them against their funny business. A few students avoided her gaze, fidgeting sheepishly on the chairs. To the side, Vianne looked at Ana, motioning back and forth between them. Ana caught the drift and nodded; it would be best if they could choose who they wanted to work with.

It was still too early into the school year for Vianne to be comfortable with anyone on the premises, but Ana had been the only one to show acceptance. She’d take that over anything.

“Each pair will receive a doll.” 

The next instruction baffled the class. Vianne stared on with wide eyes as Mrs. Flores took out a raggedy dummy from the trunk. It was a dress-up doll, with the color of its skin ashened by years of dust coupled with torn bits of its dress. 

Mrs. Flores sighed with strange contentment as she continued. “This year, the health department wants us to learn how to be responsible adults. As we are nearing senior year, the closer you are all to adulthood. And one of the graduation requirements is to pass Living Skills.”

Vianne didn’t need to hear the rest of it. Playing make-believe house was one of the projects required in Sex Ed class back in Napa, only it was to be taken during senior year. It would appear that it was happening sooner for her. Praying to whatever deity that came to mind, she hoped that she was allowed to choose partners. There was no way she was going to be stuck with a haughty, nose-picking man-child. 

“The fuck ma’am?!” Another shout rang from behind. “Who needs this?!”

A wave of murmurs agreed to his outcry, with some joining in. Mrs. Flores huffed, using her index finger to push up her glasses before glaring at the mass.

“If you want me to teach sex, then the right thing for me to do is to teach you the aftermath of it, too.” A light smile danced around her lips, a brow raised along with it. The boys’ cheeks flushed bright red at the comment, while the girls took a sudden interest in their books. 

Vianne felt the same sentiment, her ears tingling with warm embarrassment. Mrs. Flores was a lot of things, and bluntness was one of them. 

“Can we pick partners?” one of the girls asked. 

Mrs. Flores shook her head. “I’ve already made my decision last night about the pairs.”

Vianne’s stomach twisted at the revelation; she was already having a shitty time adjusting to the new school, and now she had to deal with a hotheaded student who probably hated her guts. Dred pooled down her back, soaking her in fearful anticipation.

Before them, Mrs. Flores took out a sheet of paper. Her mouth moved to speak, but was interrupted when an ear-splitting crash came from the door. It sounded like a dense mass falling onto the lockers. All eyes turned to the source of the sound, Vianne included. Another bang followed the crash, before all was silent. She sucked in a breath.

With a crack, the door flew open, revealing none other than the very boy who made fun of her days before in Math 1A. It would appear that barging into class midway was his style of rolling.His eyes drooped in lazy discontent, and there was dust all over his bomber jacket. Upon closer inspection, Vianne could make out the beginnings of a bruise forming on the corners of his left eye. 

Great. She shared another class with him, too. Oh goodie. Vianne was starting to believe that she was cursed before she stepped foot in LA. Or maybe she fucked up really bad in her past life. Because no one could have this much bad luck in one month. Mrs. Flores, on the other hand, seemed way too surprised at his grandiose entrance.  

“Well, well, Mr. Angel Guzman,” she tutted. “It’s a pleasure to finally see you grace my class with your presence.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice as she stared him down, not bothering with formalities.

Angel rolled his eyes with a click of his tongue. Sauntering to the nearest desk, he slumped into the seat, angling his legs wide open. Without context, one might believe him to be a gangster boss overlooking his new crew. The relaxed stance in his posture gave away nothing about his mood, but the dark look in his eyes spoke for him. 

 If Mrs. Flores was miffed by his disposition, she didn’t show it. “Since you’ve expressed so much excitement for this assignment, I’ll give you the honor of knowing your partner first.” 

Scanning the paper, her eyes landed on the very bottom of the list, and she spoke again. “You’ll be with Miss Yang over here for the project. Now, Adeline, you’re with Thomas. Ana, you’re with Daniel, Clarise-”

Vianne didn’t take in anything else other than the first sentence. Her ears rang, and she could see her soul departing her body for the heavens. This was the final nail on the coffin, pushing her over the edge of sanity. Her worst prediction had come true; she had the most deadbeat partner she could ever find in this school.

Her instincts had her look over in his direction. Angel’s gaze caught hers as she did so, however his face still held their impassive stare. Breaking contact, he moved to pull down his beanie again, shielding his eyes; he was preparing for a nap. Vianne groaned into her hands, earning a pity glance from Ana. It was the I’m-sorry-but-you’re-kinda-screwed look.

Mrs. Flores was still speaking, thus rattling Vianne back to reality. “-come up and grab your supplies! Please make a line and wait your turn.”

Half of the class rose and made a beeline for the trunk. Ana had already gathered hers and was now sitting by Daniel, leaving her alone. Angel was leaning against the chair like he was by the beach with his hands behind his head, and that told her more than she needed to hear. Vianne pursed her lips, hoisting her body from the desk. 

The teacher smiled too brightly when she came up to collect her doll. “Congratulations! It’s a girl for you!”

Handing Vianne a bottle of cleaning solution and a hair brush, Mrs. Flores patted her with a good-natured smile. It made Vianne’s soul twist in its grave. She turned around with robotic stiffness, and headed back to Angel’s seat. The young man took no notice of her arrival, continuing to stew in his state of trance. A toothpick hung out from his mouth, giving more into the lazy fashion.

Shit. I’m going to carry us both. The grim thought crossed her mind, and she winced. 

“Uh, we need to fill out the form.” Vianne pointed to the paper left by the teacher, snapping her fingers to get his attention. It was a fake birth certificate for the doll; Mrs. Flores was going above and beyond for the final project. Had it been under pleasant circumstances, Vianne would’ve given her kudos for her creativity.

Angel canted his view upwards, staring at her with mild curiosity. It was only then she noticed the deep set of eyes, with equally thick brows to match. His hands refused to leave his head, but his lips parted ever so slightly. Nothing came out of them.

Right. The guy never brings pencils. Realization hit her and she slumped onto the chair next to his. This is gonna be so fun.

As she tapped her pencil onto the paper, Vianne ignored the bouncing of his legs to the side. It was taking her attention away from thinking of a name for the doll. After another few minutes of awkward silence passed, she noticed they were the only pair that had almost zero progress on the first section.

Open your mouth and get him to talk, damn it! 

Scowling, Vianne turned to the young delinquent, who was actually on the urge of falling asleep this time. Vexation burned her mind, and she shoved the paper to his side. 

“Come up with a name,” she said. The sudden movement jerked him from his slumber, causing him to blink several times before his eyes settled back to hers with a glare. Vianne was not about to back down from a glance alone, so she crossed her arms, huffing at the dramatic display of resistance.

“I know you understand me.” The memory from last week was still fresh in her brain cache. “So come up with a name.”

At that, Angel smirked. “You’re the smart one. What ya need me for?”

Oh the little shithead.

Vianne returned the remark with a scowl of her own. “Believe me, I’d love to work by myself given the situation. But I’m not gonna carry you across the semester.” If the brat thought he was going to get an easy A because of her, then he had another thing coming. 

Her hissy fit seemed to have gotten to him; his eyes narrowed while he bit down on the toothpick. “Puta, you’re so fucking annoying.”

“What did you just call me?!”

“Figure it out, smart one.” A lopsided grin appeared on his face, though it was miles away from friendly. His eyes flashed, almost like a warning. But like that would deter her.

She was about ready to slap the paper into his face when she remembered the way Escalante would handle him when he got up all over his ass. A slight smirk painted her lips as she thought of an idea; if he was going to be an ass, then she was going to be an ass back.

“Are you simply trying to hide your illiteracy?” Vianne asked, her voice filled with over-saturated innocence.

Angel nearly swallowed his toothpick. “What?” The stare he sent her screamed a thousand red flags, but she held a hand against her legs to keep them from shivering.

“Oh, y’know…” she began. “I thought coming up with names wouldn’t be too difficult. Seems like it is for you, though.”

The muscles of his jaws clenched, darkening his guise. Angel’s nostrils flared as he looked at the piece of paper before him. Vianne could practically see the gears turn in his head. They were in a classroom, so there was nothing extreme he could do even if he was pissed. The thought of trapping him between a rock and a hard place made her feel a little better after the previous taunts.

Just when she moved to retrieve the materials back, his hands slammed on the paper. She flinched at the action, but kept her eyes glued to the desk, not raising to meet his.

“Camilla.” His raspy hum sounded quietly in the background. Had Vianne been further away, she wouldn’t have caught it.

“What?” She peered up at him, opening her mouth to ask more, but he was already looking away.

“The name,” Angel said. “It’s Camilla.” He made it sound like he was talking to a five-year-old.

Vianne breathed a sigh of relief and took the pencil. She began to fill in the required information about their ‘daughter’. He still refused to write out his part, so she relented for now.

“Camilla Guzman it is then,” she spoke to herself.

Now it was Angel’s turn to be perplexed. “Camilla Guzman?” He stopped chewing the wooden stick in his mouth for a moment.

His partner scoffed from her seat. “Well, you’re the dad, Angel. Unless you want me to have full custody.” Vianne rolled her eyes at the thought of having a daughter at her age. Ms. Lin would have a heart attack and be driven to an early grave. 

When she didn’t hear anything else from him, she feared her jokes flew over his head. Vianne raised her head just in time to catch a light smirk tugging at his face. Sensing no real threat, she went back to writing.

A clap from Mrs. Flores turned both their attentions to the front podium. The teacher had gathered everyone’s eyeballs towards herself, and she cleared her throat. 

“Since class is coming to an end, I’d like to make sure everyone understands their part of the assignment.” She paused for a second, before taking out another batch of files. “One ‘parent’ takes care of the doll for a week, alternating with their partners over the course of the semester. By the end of each month, I’d like a report summarizing the difficulties of parenthood. The rubric is simple; if the doll ends up in tatters, or if it becomes lost, then you will be automatically given an ‘F’. Keeping your ‘children’ in pristine condition and well-clothed is the primary goal. That’s all for today. Now figure out who’s taking custody first.”

Vianne looked to Angel, and then back to their ‘daughter’. This was a tough cookie, and she wasn’t sure she trusted him with not losing the doll within the first few days. 

“Rock papers,” Angel offered.

She wanted to guffaw at the suggestion, but logic told her it was a fair method. “Sure. Loser takes the kid.”

It turned out to be a horrible move on her part. No matter what kind of tricks she threw at him during the sparring, he either met her with the same level, or defeated her. If she used rock, he met her with paper. When she went for paper, he countered with scissors. At last, on the third try, she pulled a rock again, only to be faced with another rock from him.

Two loses and a tie; it was a no brainer who the kid went with for the first week. Angel sizzled with smug pride as he counted the points against her, his wicked grin broadening.

“Guess you’re not so smart after all.”

Oh fuck you. Vianne knew nothing good ever came out of that smirk. There was no guarantee he was going to show up after her week was up. For all she knew, Angel could easily ditch her for the rest of the year with the doll on her own. It wasn’t like he cared about his perfect track record. Her heart sank at the thought.

“You are coming back next week, right?” Skepticism laced her words as she eyed him. 

Angel clicked his tongue, raising a brow. “Who knows?” It was the closest to an answer she would get from him. And it was not reassuring at all. 

Vianne glared, hoping that by her looks alone, he would get the message. But her efforts were in vain. Angel soon reverted back to napping for the rest of the class, not wasting a second longer on her.

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A/N: As per usual, shoutout to @classic80sand90smovieloves2 for encouraging and helping me get over writers block and whatnot ;) 

And thank you to all my followers who happened upon this piece in the sea of posts here on tumblr :p I love y’all and hope I didn’t disappoint!

[zertzertzhang]

Stand and Deliver: My Life Turned Upside Down CH.2

A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr, so please bear with me! I am usually active on FFNet and AO3, but since this fandom is basically nonexistent except for here, I thought maybe I could post my works for this movie here. The story is a fanfic based on the 1988 movie ‘Stand and Deliver’ starring Edward James Olmos, and taking a deeper look into the lives of the impoverished students in East LA.

Eventual Angel/OC, and warnings of racial slurs with some physical violence.

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First chapter link here > https://zertzertzhang.tumblr.com/post/627185848305270784/stand-and-deliver-my-life-turned-upside-down

Chapter Two: Circus

The second Vianne stepped out of the car, she realized her mistake. The school wasn’t what she expected at all. Garfield High broke the scale...in a bad way. Chipped walls decorated the main hall, flooded with overflowing trash bins and rusty pipelines. It had to have been decades since the last renovation, with the building looking like something she saw from abandoned prefectures. 

Like all other complexes she’d seen around there, the place was standing on its last two feet. This was supposed to be the best building around. 

Her white Giuseppe sneakers stepped on something sticky, and it was a challenge to hold in a disgusted snort. There was dried gum everywhere on the sidewalk, making Vianne wonder why they even bothered with trash cans in the first place. She winced when it was clear that her shoes would be torn to shreds by the end of the day.

Then came the worst part of her arrival; people stared. And it wasn’t some half-assed look you gave to a passersby on the streets. Students were either throwing her a look-over or straight on gaping. It could’ve been the way she was dressed, or the fact that she was probably the only Asian mingling in the midst of Latinos and very few Caucasians. Most likely both.

Ironed blouses and slim denim were not in fashion around here. Among the rest of the population with oversized shirts and baggy mom jeans, Vianne was the runt of the litter. She wanted to jump back into the car, go home, and put on an invisibility coat. The dirty look she saw from some of the girls did nothing to calm the queasy storm in her stomach.

“-That fresh meat?”

“It’s a fuckin’ chink. What’re they doin’ here?”

“Heh, looks like a lost puppy.”

The boys were doing a terrible job at whispering. Vianne wasn’t sure if it was an attempt at passive aggression or just plain stupidity. She glared in their direction, lips pulled into a slight frown as she entered the building. A cold sweat broke through her back, stretching its spindly fingers around her body in a tight cocoon. 

Ignore them and get on with it.

Her mind screamed at her to keep walking, and she obliged. Repeating the mental mantra, Vianne soon found her way into the main office with her slip in hand. A handful of police officers crowded in one tiny space, speaking in rapid Spanish. Order did not exist in this school; the secretary was talking to five people at once, without the time to think about the things she said. Voices filled with agitation hung in the air. 

Vianne was this close to thinking she had entered the wrong room when a small figure spotted her from behind.

“Miss? Can I help you?” A small tap on her shoulders sent her whirling around in alarm. Her little outburst startled the short woman behind her as well. When Vienne finally registered the lack of threat in front of her, her cheeks flushed bright red.

“Sorry! I’m looking for Racquel Ortega. It’s my first day and I was told to come here to get my finalized schedule.” The young woman spoke so fast she swore her lips would fall off. 

The curly-haired woman in the maxi dress looked surprised. “Ah, that would be me. Are you Vianne Yang.”

Vianne nodded. “I was supposed to meet my TA instructor for math. It’s my first period.”

Ortega smiled warmly. “Yes. Welcome to Garfield High. Please follow me.” She held out a hand, and Vianne shook them without hesitation. 

The duo weaved back and forth in the crowds, desperate to dodge the flying paper balls. Ortega would yell once in a while at a group of boys before pointing to the office behind her. The way her docile demeanor went from zero to a hundred freaked the young woman a bit. But Vianne couldn’t blame her. Had she been in her shoes, she would’ve quit before she even started.

As it turned out, her instructor was a retired engineer. Of all places, Vianne didn’t expect that to come from a high school teacher, particularly in this neighborhood. Ortega did an excellent job at filling in the details. It would seem that Jaime Escalante needed a breath of fresh air from the corporate environment. 

Vianne almost felt sorry for him. There was no relaxation here; she’d be surprised if the teachers weren’t dropping dead from exhaustion because of the students. Garfield, from what she’d seen so far, could drive a devout nun to insanity. 

The increasing voices of everyone around spiked her anxiety to new levels. She was doing her utmost best to not break down and cling onto the older woman for dear life. The mass of bodies was like an unforgiving current, threatening to wash her away if she slipped up.

They reached a door with the sign ‘Math 1A’ scribbled on the whiteboard next to it. Someone had decided that a drawing of a dick was appropriate to be placed right under the description. The person even added a smiley face onto the artwork, showcasing their enthusiasm. Real classy. 

“Racquel please come to the front desk. Racquel please come to the front desk.” Ortega’s walkie-talkie crinkled pitifully, before choking out a command. The math advisor sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She nudged Vianne closer to the door. 

“Here’s the classroom. Mr. Escalante should be there already. Good luck with your school year.” A tight smile appeared on Ortega’s face, and within seconds, she was making a mad dash back to the main hall. All alone, Vianne was left standing there feeling like a complete fool. She blinked at where Ortega was previously, and the sense of dread overwhelmed her. On cue, the bell rang its warning. Everyone groaned in unison like a chorus before the wave of students began flowing into the classrooms. 

Lucky for her, she had no need to run to class. Grabbing the nob with renewed strength, Vianne pulled herself into the room. There was one person at the front desk; a middle-aged man nearing his sixties stood near the chalkboard, hand moving furiously as he wrote down an equation. She prayed that this was going to be the right person.

“Mr. Escalante?” Vianne cringed at her pronunciation of his name. She herself knew what it was like when people screwed up hers in the past. But this man had an entirely different level of difficulty. Ortega’s way of saying it felt so natural compared to hers, which sounded like an insecure toddler butchering their first word.

The man turned his head to face Vianne, eyes widening a fraction. His oversized glasses gave him a sage-like appearance despite the head, or half-head, of dark hair. The bald spot in addition to his very casual attire made her think of a grandpa who was likely to yell at the kids across the lawn. 

At the sight of her dumbstruck state, he quirked his lips. “Yes, how may I help you?”

The slight South American accent trailed after his speech, giving away his ethnicity. Vianne felt her mouth open and close, but the nervousness took the words from her mouth. She stuck out her hand that held the transfer letter. Escalante better have known about this, or she’ll flip a lid.

“I’m Vianne,” she explained. “Your TA. I think Mrs. Ortega already told you about me?”

Escalante’s brows rose to new heights, his amused smile broadening. “Yes! Miss Yang, is it? Welcome to my class!” The elongated hiss in his way of speech, coupled with the wild gesture of his arms painted the picture of a mad scientist in her head. It was nearly endearing.

“I’m afraid there’s not enough chairs for an extra student,” Escalante said. “Please stand here and wait for everyone to arrive so I can take a headcount for the others.”

Vianne obeyed without a word and flattened herself against the wall next to him. In response, the door was barged open, and the group of students flooded the room like a swarm of wasps entering their hive. Restless chatter buzzed her ears as she took note of everyone that rounded the class. It was hard to catch what most of them were saying; Spanish wasn’t the language requirement she took back in Napa.

Knowing French wasn’t the best course to help her in this situation. And even then, she only took it up to level two. The people before her all wore the same dazed expression, jeering in loud volumes and hooting on the sides.

Someone shot a rubber band across the room, hitting one of the boys square in the face. Angry shouts erupted from both sides as the rest of them began to laugh at the brawling duo. More paper balls were thrown, and Vianne could hear some of them yelling ‘bitch’ to one another.

It was a fucking joke. The whole class was a joke––scratch that––the whole school was a joke. And Vianne was the poor audience that bought the overpriced ticket to the hellhole circus. There was not a word that could describe the boiling feeling in her gut. She couldn’t believe it; this was the place she had to deal with for another year. 

There was no way the teachers here could’ve survived each day without going into a catatonic state before school ended. Vianne drummed her fingers against her books without mercy. A panic attack was just inches away from happening if the class refused to settle down. And from the look on Escalante’s face, it would appear that they shared the same sentiment.

A scowl donned his face, creasing the heavy lines on his forehead. If it weren’t for Vianne’s distracted state, she would’ve been frightened by those narrowed eyes. 

“Come now!” Escalante’s voice boomed throughout the small room. “You don’t want no mama’s chancla when you get home, no? I’d love to see you fight with your parents around.”

The overt threat was not lost among the students, with some of them slinking away in defeat. Others ‘booed’ at the command, but made no extra attempts to disrupt the already late start of the lecture. It took about five minutes to get their total attention to the board, and that alone fried Vianne’s brain.

“Orale!” Escalante’s mood quickly brightened at the cooperating mass, his smile twinkling with interest. “Allow me to introduce my new TA. She will be your lovely assistant for the rest of the school year. Any extra questions, she will answer for you.”

His hands gestured to her like a magician preparing his new subject for a spin. But only in this state, nothing was magical. It became clear that Escalante was waiting for her to present herself; the man eyed her expectantly, his grin not budging an inch. 

Vianne felt her cheeks flush so hot that it put the musty LA weather to shame. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward. “Hi, uh, I’m Vianne. It’s a pleasure to meet you all...uh, hope I could be of some help.”

An urge to facepalm was strong. Had her grades been irrelevant to her stay in Math 1A, she would’ve made a beeline for the door. The reception after her introduction was a nightmare, because everyone began jabbering all at once.

“The fuck?!” A young man with a messy afro glared at her. His buddies around him sniggered in agreement.

In the front, a chubby male with curly hair snorted. “Booooring!” His female friends rolled their eyes and swatted him on the shoulders. But their giggles weren’t held in for long.

Vianne wanted to find the nearest cliff and throw herself from it. If she converted to Buddihsm now, maybe she’ll even have a decent shot at getting a nice reincarnation.

“First you, now the chink?! This is messed up man!” A few more hostile tones rose from the back. 

Her eyes flared. Vianne changed her mind; she didn’t want to throw herself off a cliff anymore, she wanted to throw them. Her body trembled with brewing rage under her skin. The nerve of the scoundrels! As if she wanted to be here! If it were up to her, she wouldn’t even spare them the time of day. Like an uncontrollable tick, her temper fired in sparks. A snide retort was about to make its way to the public when Escalante’s hands came up in a flash.

“Silence!” The tone of his command left no room for arguments. “Another remark as such, and all of you will be spending Saturday school for a month!”

The teacher was practically bristling from head to toe. His friendly disposition came and went at a dizzying speed, tugging Vianne onto an emotional roller-coaster. However, she was nonetheless grateful for the save. One thing was for sure, skin color was not up for debate in his classroom. At least she found an ally in desperate times. 

At his outcry, the students grumbled amongst themselves and quieted down. She still received dirty looks from the girls, but they were mostly silent. One youngster in the front row with earrings gave her a lopsided grin and tutted with refined casualness.

“Yo ese! Does that mean if you assign sex homework I can ask her number?”

A few other boys cheered from the back, throwing their thumbs up as if they heard the best joke in record time. The girls cringed and sent disgusted scowls their way, with one of them commenting about how horny the bastards were. Only one person in the audience didn’t react. The girl with short, curly hair looked at Vianne, a pitying stare adorned her guise. 

Humiliation wasn’t something Vianne dealt with on a daily basis. And the sudden onslaught nearly had her burst into a tearful temper tantrum. Glancing over to Escalante, she could see the patience waning from him as well. The class was saved from another wrath from either of them when the bell rang again. 

Without a second thought, everyone except for the girl with short hair bolted for the door. The insult Vianne had prepared was lodged in her throat, unable to make their move. Was this a mistake? She was sure that it wasn’t even halfway through the first period, they still had more than an hour left. Time was a foreign concept to her in this town, and she figured her mind must’ve been playing tricks on her.

“Um, is class over?” It was a rhetorical question. But what answered her caught her off guard.

“Give it a minute,” the girl said. Her pencil tapped with a delicate rhythm against the desk as she wore a tired expression. Vianne stared at her with disbelief before turning her head to the instructor. Like the girl, Escalante showed no interest in leaving, instead opting to go towards the window. 

Curiosity got the best of her, and she soon joined him by the blinds. “What’s going on?”

“They rigged the bell again.” From Escalante’s frown, she reckoned that this was a common occurrence. Following his gaze, her eyes landed on a group of young men congregated before the main school alarm. All of them were donned in dark clothing, wearing baggy jeans and beanies. The distance made it hard to see their faces, but Vianne thought she caught sight of a tall figure moving amongst them. He was laughing obnoxiously, while engaging in a bro-shake with a shorter male. 

None of that was relevant, though, because the bell rang again, this time from the superintendent. His red face deepened to a shade of purple as he and the principal began their rounding of the rioting teens. The mob of students were herded back to their respective classrooms, all groaning and whining at the ‘unfair treatment’ of their lunch break.

“Lunch isn’t for another two periods!” Principal Molina shouted. “Get back to class!” His finger pointed to the doors, and his eyes bulged like an angry bull’s.

“Shut the fuck up!” A few students jeered. More paper balls were thrown, but there wasn’t anything Molina could do about it.

All the while, Vianne and the girl sat dumbstruck as they stared at the whirlwind of people coming back to their seats. Vianne swore that if this was how it was going to be for the rest of the day, then she’ll gladly accept them leaving on their own accord.

After another ten minutes wasted on trying to get her classmates to settle down, Escalante wiped his brow with a handkerchief. The toll of the students had taken its effect on him as well. But the sly grin never left his face, unbreakable like hardtack.

“I told you it was futile to escape,” he taunted softly. “There’s always a bigger fish in the pond.” 

Vianne sent him a disbelieving look. Was the man not afraid of backlash? But the rest of the class only ignored him and glared, defeated. The class TA let out a breath of relief, for a moment she feared that it’ll lead to another brawl, this time at the instructor.

“Turn to page fifteen! And I want all of your homework turned in to Vianne right here. Once you’ve done that, work on problems one through ten on the multiplication of fractions.” The command was calm and precise, not a word stuttered. Escalante corrected the glasses on his nose and squinted at the chalkboard, not giving a fuck about the moaning teens.

It was Vianne’s cue to get to work. She didn’t hesitate, and began roaming around the room collecting wrinkled papers. With time, she learned that the girl who stayed behind was Ana, the frizzy-haired girl behind her was Claudia, and next to Claudia was the redheaded Lupe. Neither of the two gave Vianne much of a glance, preferring to ignore her existence as she took their homework.

Not bothering to tell them about the mutual disdain, Vianne clicked away happily. She soon found out that the man who kept asking for sex was Tito, his lopsided smile broadening when she came to take his paper. 

“How ‘bout we do a trade,” Tito suggested, licking his lips. “My work for your number.”

Vianne wished very much to flip him off and top it with a whack on his head. But she chose to snatch the homework from his hands without a word. A snort escaped her as she turned around.

The boy next to him, Frank ‘Pancho’ Garcia, hooted. “Rejected!” 

Tito scoffed. “Tsk, tsk. Playin’ hard to get I see.” He waved a casual hand and went back to his workbook. “It’s her loss.”

That’s what every virgin says. Vianne rolled her eyes at the added comment. The stack of writings were presented to Escalante, who took it with a gracious ‘thank you’. His lack of reaction to the jeers made her question just how much he was going to take because of his job. The probability of him being numb to the antics was high.

 Just when Vianne thought her task was done for the time being, the door creaked open. She raised a brow; there were three more seats left in the corner, so it made sense that there were more people coming in. Facing the entrance, Vianne tried to get a better look than using the corners of her eyes. 

Her stomach lurched at the sight, and she had to bite her lips to keep from hyperventilating. If her memory served her right, then those were the exact same boys she saw loitering around the alarm. The shortest one with a bandana stalked up to the front, head bobbing with self-assured arrogance. His hollow eyes stared at her with mild interest before they hardened when Escalante came into his view.

“Kimo,” he drawled. “Who’s the freshie?” The languid demeanor gave away his stoned state. Vianne made a subconscious step away from him and his pals, eyeing them warily through her glasses. He smirked, showing off a row of white teeth, seemingly glad at her reaction.

“You’re late, Chuco.” To her side, Escalante came into the conversation. “Vianne’s your new TA and I need you to sit your ass on a seat.”

Chuco gave a slighted look her way before he sauntered past her to the back, followed by his buddies. Vianne didn’t realize how tall the teen she saw through the window was until she was mere inches away from him. Dressed in an oversized bomber jacket and jeans too big for his waist, the towering youth could easily pass as a man in his twenties. A good feet taller than her would be a low estimation. 

What on earth are his parents feeding him?! 

Vianne stared straight on, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing her discomfort. Like Chuco, he also paid her no attention as he strolled next to the ‘leader’, plopping down on the desk in a bored manner. 

It made sense that Escalante would want their homework as well, so she made a begrudging advance in their direction. Her feet padded across the room, drilling needles of dread into her legs with each stride.

“I need your homework, please.” Vianne tried to sound as polite as possible. But the grinding of teeth made it hard to sound sweet. 

Chuco leered. “Ain’t got no homework, chica. Do the problems in ma head.”

One didn’t need a degree in astrophysics to know he was messing with her. Vianne grinned a little too forcefully and sighed. “Fine. Please turn to page fifteen and work on problems one through ten.”

She walked over to his tall companion, prepared for another unpleasant conversation. “Homework, please.”

The young man proceeded to pull his beanie lower over his ears. At that, Vianne was millimeters away from flipping her shit. Did the blockhead not comprehend? Or was he messing with her, too? Her father did say that certain people around the area couldn’t speak English, so she tried to push the excuse in a better light. Maybe he really didn’t understand her.

“Give me your tarea, por favor?” She tried to remember the basic Spanish from her previous encounters. But her knowledge decided to ditch her last minute. “Uh, Speak Ingles?”

He looked at her, eyes wide with what she hoped was understanding, and his lips twitched. Then his brows joined in, before he busted out laughing. Chuco howled along with him, slapping him on the shoulders with glee. 

“Sometimes,” the tall youth answered. He smirked, tilting his head in her direction. Vianne balled her hands into fists as she watched on. The tips of her ears burned with a passion.

“Orale Angel!” Chuco high-fived him hard. “Nice one!” The duo continued their chorus of laughter, completely oblivious to the subject of their jest.

Vianne wished that turning invisible was a possible feat. It was adamantly clear that this was going to be a long year. The storm inside her grew, barely holding the thunders at bay.

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A/N: As per usual, shoutout to @classic80sand90smovieloves2 for encouraging and helping me get over writers block and whatnot ;)

[zertzertzhang]

Stand and Deliver: My Life Turned Upside Down

A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr, so please bear with me! I am usually active on FFNet and AO3, but since this fandom is basically nonexistent except for here, I thought maybe I could post my works for this movie here. The story is a fanfic based on the 1988 movie ‘Stand and Deliver’ starring Edward James Olmos, and taking a deeper look into the lives of the impoverished students in East LA.

Eventual Angel/OC, and warnings of racial slurs with some physical violence.

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Chapter One: Hellhole

The divorce shattered the Yang family to pieces. Vianne was no stranger to her mother’s scorn for her father, even at a young age. There were countless nights of screaming from Mrs. Yang, coupled with the frustrated curses her father threw in return. At one point, she was sure she heard plates crashing against the walls, but by the time she pumped up the courage to go check the next day, everything had been neatly restored. It was like the fight never took place.

Vianne was not stupid; the traces of her parent’s clashing were found in their silence. It was the harsh clatter of silverware against the bowls during dinner which reminded her that despite the calm nature of the family evenings, rage was just seconds from spilling onto the streets. Their house had just enough bearings to keep authorities from pounding the door on a weekly basis.

There wasn’t much left to solidify the hate between the spouses of the Yang household. By the time Vianne’s father suggested giving her a sibling to help bring her mother back, even she knew that it was a futile attempt to play house a little longer.

But to Vianne’s dismay, her mother agreed. Within months, blue paint littered around the spare bedroom in a massive heap, threatening to swallow the couple whole. Vianne didn’t react much when she realized a brother was coming her way, the increased shouting from Mrs. Yang frightened her as the due date neared. Her father would grumble incessantly about his wife’s mood swings and how that was what men got for marrying.  

All of that was lost to Vianne; she was too young to comprehend full sentences, much less understand the hidden meaning behind her father’s statement. Maybe her brother would make her mother happy for once. She could envision her father playing with her in the fields as her mother and her brother sat on picnic mats to the side. They would be laughing just like how it used to be. Vianne wouldn’t have to stay awake, pressing her ears against the doors as more kitchenwares were broken. There would finally be peace...

Her mother’s eyes held the warmth of motherhood for no longer than a few seconds before the cold hollow overtook them again.

Peace never came. What happened in its stead was her brother screeching from his crib, all the while as her parents shrieked at one another over changing diapers. It made Vianne’s head split with thunderous agony. She never wanted to yell this badly, to make them just hug each other for once and stop talking. But such thoughts happened in her mind only. And before she knew it, they were back to throwing pots against the wall.

That lasted however long she remembered. Then came the papers, and she soon found herself holding baby Jack in her arms as her aunt ushered her into a stranger’s car. They said they would be taking care of them for a while. It dawned on Vianne that this was her first time meeting her mother’s family. There was no such thing as a happy reunion in this household.

She didn’t get to see her father after that, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to anyway. Not when the last thing she saw him doing was spitting onto her mother’s face as he tried to stop her from stepping out the door. No one knew that Vianne hid under the covers to cry herself to sleep once she settled in her new home.

And thus, Mrs. Yang became Ms. Lin once more. But for legal reasons, Vianne and Jack’s surname stayed. The minor details flew over her head; Vianne didn’t put much care on the subject. In the long run, the privilege to listen to the crickets chirp at night was enough to keep her satisfied.

That’s how things went for a while, with the emotional charge from her mother coming down for once in a long time. It wasn’t a surprise when Ms. Lin began going out all dolled up and pretty. The scent of her Saint Laurent eau de parfum clung to her skin as she whisked past the older Vianne. The girl felt a twist in her gut; she didn’t want to smell the hints of cologne her mother brought back after every weekend. However, she kept her mouth shut.

Ms. Lin didn’t hold back on her monetary needs. Thank god her salary as a lawyer cushioned their lifestyle. Despite being a single parent, her income had left a spacious room for extra spending. A shopping trip once a month was guaranteed, and that was when Vianne saw her mother at her very best. Talkative and cheery, Ms. Lin wasted no time in purchasing the latest trench-coats from Burberry as she gushed over how cute it looked on Vianne.

Something about her giggling mother put her at ease. The punching of the credit card’s number sent a rush of high in her blood, which only increased with Ms. Lin’s blabbering praise of how beautiful she looked in the mirror. She was well-fed and well-clothed; Vianne figured that there had to be a trade off somewhere. Not everything could be given, so she happily accepted the allowance. It was the closest she’d ever get to having her mother smother her in a crushing hug.

School was another topic. No doubt she was expected to do well in it; Vianne was sure her college expenses would be covered as well once she got to it. So she put the worry on that to the side as well. Her social life at school was decent, with her own clique of Asian Americans making up most of her friend group. It was genuinely a decent life for her, and for a moment, she thought this was going to be her forever.

Until it was news to her that her current school was going to be a thing of the past. Ms. Lin had become engaged to one of her former clients. Vianne was near her senior year of high school when her mother broke the news to her.

“Scott has a family of his own,” Ms. Lin explained. “His children are having a difficult time accepting us.”

Vianne lost her appetite and tossed her dinner down the dump. Her brain refused to tell her how to react, so her first response was denial. She wasn’t interested in a second dad or a second family, this was her happy medium. Besides, she still had Jack, so there wasn’t any long-term loneliness. Why was her mother complicating things?! What the hell?

“I don’t see how it’s our problem.” She tried to keep her voice cool, but the hint of frustration leaked nonetheless.

Her mother looked almost ashamed. Almost. “I’ll be moving in with Scott next week, Vianne. It’s to help his children get used to the new family members.”

The pause after the statement didn’t help the rising anxiety within Vianne. Her fingers clenched around the fork, digging the metal utensil into her soft skin so much that it stung. There was a catch to that announcement, she could feel it.

“What about me?” she asked. “What about Jack?”

Ms. Lin sucked in a breath, drumming her fingers on the mahogany table in a frenzy. And from experience, that only meant bad news. “Scott lives in the Bay Area. It’s too far away from Napa for me to come visit constantly if you stay. So I’ve decided to have you move back with your father.”

The world came undone from below and swallowed Vianne whole. Her mind was a blank sheet of paper, with no idea how to respond. It had been a decade of little to no contact with Mr. Yang, and the sudden contact with him was not going to lead to a happy talk over a cup of coffee. This was fucking ridiculous.

“You said you’d never let him see us again.” Her retort sounded irrelevant at worst, and petty at best. Not that this was going to change her mother’s engagement.

And sure enough, it wasn’t. Ms. Lin gave an exasperated sigh and pinched her nose. The shake of her head reminded Vianne of the way she would scold her when she was a child.

“Your father is doing better now. He’s…different,” her mother tried. “He’s simply not living in the best places out there. But that’s ok! You won’t stay there after graduation, and after you go to college, you’ll be coming back to Scott and me over breaks.”

Vianne could hear the blood in her ears bubbling like an overboiled teapot. “I don’t even know Scott that well, mom! How am I supposed to be his new family after you settle in?!”

The matriarch rolled her eyes at the scene, clearly not taking her daughter’s response well. “It’s a work in progress. I’ll make sure to bring them to you every once in a while to let them get comfortable. That’s why I’m moving in first.”

Her reasoning failed to get past Vianne’s anger, spurring her on. “So you’re just gonna dump us in LA with dad so you can live your comfy life?!”

That comment seemed to be the final nail onto the coffin, as Ms. Lin’s frown turned to a scowl in seconds. “I’m not dumping you anywhere, Vianne. It’s only going to be a year, and your allowance is staying the same! So stop being dramatic.”

Her mother’s cold gaze bore into her mind, freezing her in her tracks. It would serve both of them better if she conceded right there. Once her mother came to a decision, she was like an ox in the middle of a fight. There was no arguing out of this situation. The friends she had and the memories she made in Napa were now pipedreams wrapped up in a dusky alley. Her failure to even voice her opinions squeezed her lungs tight with perturbation.

The familiar pounding headache cursed her forehead, making her wince. Vianne had the sudden urge to smash plates just like her mother had done before. But she didn’t need a grounding on top of everything else, so she settled with pulling her lips back into a painful grin.

“What's the name of the school?” She expected her mother to answer that at least. Donning an air of nonchalance, Vianne tried to appear as unbothered as she could. The trembling of her hands were the only markers of betrayal. If Ms. Lin noticed her plight, then she took no interest in it. Her mother reached for a brown packet and tore it open.

A stack of papers slid out of the package, with the name ‘J.A. Garfield High School’ printed in bold fonts in the front page. It was her transfer letter.

Ms. Lin took a sip of her red wine before she continued her trail of thought. “I’ve given them your transcripts and coursework history already. You’ll be admitted in the second semester.”

“You’re really sending me to the ghetto.” Vianne felt the veins in her head pop. Quickly scouring through the papers, she came across her schedule. There was no AP Biology on the list, and there was definitely no AP BC Calculus on it either. In their places was a section marked as ‘Teaching Assistant’. And that was enough to send her ticking with rage.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” This time, she didn’t bother to hide her fury. “Why did they drop my classes?!”

Slamming the files down so hard that the china rattled, the young woman seethed as she stared her mother down. Ms. Lin wasn’t having any of it either, her fingers gripping the wine glass had turned pale with the increased pressure.

“The school doesn’t have AP courses, Vianne. They’re offering full credits for your two AP classes as compensation.”

The words that came out of her mother’s mouth stunned Vianne into silence. Graduation credits were worth nothing to her in college, this had to be some sick joke.

“What about my AP tests next year?” she hammered. “How am I supposed to take the tests without taking the classes?!” Her complaints were like flies buzzing around an agitated human. Ms. Lin simply waved them off without a second glance, as if her worries were nothing but unnecessary trivialities in life.

“You’re smart, sweetheart. You can study for them by yourself.” Her mother threw out the response like it was the obvious solution to her problem. “There’ll be more than enough spare time in your hands to bury yourself in books.”

Vianne quirked a brow. “Why?”

Ms. Lin actually smiled. But behind it were the vestiges of an arrogant smirk threatening to show itself to the surface. “Their coursework is basically non-existent. The catalogs are dated, and the materials are easy enough to be mistaken for a middle schooler’s level. You’ll have no trouble boosting your GPA up and acing your tests.”

If pride was a thing in her family, then it was going out the window. Vianne couldn’t believe her ears, nor could she stomach the sight of the letters. At this level, she might as well turn herself to a thirteen-year-old and go back to primary school. All her hard work was about to go up in flames because of that ghetto school. Hot tears rimmed along her eyes, sending her into a vortex of despair once more.

There wasn’t enough time to say goodbye to her friends; Kimberly’s birthday was in two weeks, and the whole group had a surprise beach trip planned out. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Mountains of projects she had been dedicated to simply poofed into air. Her hands clenched at the sides, doing their best to contain the urge to hit something.

The shifting of bodies alerted her of her mother’s departure from the living room; Ms. Lin was already up the stairs by the time Vianne shook herself back to reality. She looked over to the stove and was struck by the time it displayed on the counter. It was way too late into the early mornings.

“Your flights depart in two days.” The voice of her mother was drifting away into the distance. Their hollow vibrations from the hall sent her stomach dropping to the floor. “You should start packing soon, Vianne.”

That was the end of the conversation. It was made clear with the slam of Ms. Lin’s bedroom door, rattling its hinges. Neither of them were in the state to argue, and she knew it. Standing alone by the dining table, Vianne sniffled. Her nose was unbearably stuffy in addition to the increasing sting in her eyes.

She didn’t catch a wink of sleep that night.

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LAX was the definition of a madhouse. People shouted in all kinds of languages, deafening her ears and making Jack whimper on her side. Vianne held her brother close as she shoved their way through the gates of their section. The crowded mass on top of her migraine was slowly inching her towards a mental breakdown. After hauling off the last of her luggages from baggage claim, she ushered Jack to the main exit of the airport.

She knew she hadn't seen her father’s face in years, and the dreadful thought of not recognizing their only ticket out settled within her gut. Panic palpated in her heart as they came out of the building, with the sea of people not helping in the slightest.

Mr. Yang was next to unrecognizable when Vianne saw the massive sign with her name blaring in red. He looked different, much different than before. But then again, her seven-year-old perspective wasn’t all that trustworthy either. The face of her father hit her like a cold splash of water, and she found herself failing to greet him with the simplest ‘hello’. She merely stared at the balding man,  unable to tear her eyes away from the beerbelly and narrowed eyes. Her father was a stranger to her, and it was then she realized that Jack had never even met their father.

Her brother scooted away from Mr. Yang when the man approached them, looking up to her with his teary gaze. Jack looked like he wanted to burst into a wailing fit. It was going to be a long ride back.

Heavy silence filled the car throughout the ride to her new home. Mr. Yang asked about her health and her school life, repeating the same questions he wrote to her weeks ago. Vianne kept the answers simple and precise, nodding and smiling to make it seem like she was engaged.

Jack, on the other hand, fidgeted endlessly in his seat in the back, looking anywhere but the front of the driver’s seat. The introduction between father and son was awkward to say the least. Vianne was just happy that they were now on their way to get the year over with. She clutched the phonebook in her pockets, memorizing all her friends’ numbers. It took her mind off things, if that was a positive note.

There could never be enough distractions for her, especially now that the three of them were stuck in the worst possible position. As if whatever deity in the heavens wanted to lay more unto the cruel joke, Vianne shook from her revere and noticed the selection of houses they were approaching.

Rundown and abandoned were the least of her worries. The neighborhood was like the cardboard cutout from a horror magazine. Desecrated with graffitis and empty beer cans, the streets were littered with grime and dust. It was obvious the town duster wasn’t a frequent worker there. And was that a person sitting on the roof of a car?!

Vianne’s eyes bulged as she squinted at the flailing man on top of a red Chevrolet. Men donned in tall hats paraded the city roads like they owned the place, causing a line of angry drivers honking at the ruckus. The pounding headache intensified at the sight, and she grumbled a string of curses to herself.

“Monterey Park is a lot better,” Mr. Yang spoke out of nowhere. “We’re gonna be away from these dirty shitbags.”

She flinched at the harsh edge of his voice, but didn’t say anything. By the crinkled lines between his brows and the frown on his lips, her father wasn’t in the mood for a good-natured chat. It was better that way, Vianne herself could feel her spirits waning with each mile.

The trio reached a small neighborhood in no time, and to her relief, it looked miles better than the houses she previously saw. The structures still retained the brittle fragility in appearance, but the paintings were even this time. And the lawns appeared to be taken cared of as well. Vianne felt the corners of her lip tug up in a hopeful smile.

But like any other good news, it was crushed to dust as soon as it presented itself. Her father didn’t use his keys to unlock the door. Instead, it swung open on its own accord, revealing the face of a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and leopard-printed blouse. Vianne’s mind jumped to the worst possible scenario, jumping back a good distance. The young woman stared at the fresh face for what felt like a long time, before the coughing from Mr. Yang pulled her from the staring contest.

“Clara, they’re my children; Vianne and Jack.” Her father’s gruff voice held her to the ground. Gesturing to the women next, he continued to speak. “Vianne, Jack, this is Clara. She’s my girlfriend.”

Despite him being this close to the two women, Mr. Yang was oblivious to the scowl that now stretched across his daughter’s face. Vianne put two and two together and realized why her mother refused to share too much of her father’s living situation. There was no way in hell she would have agreed to come had she knew of this beforehand. Her living arrangements were fucked up to no end, and for a moment, she contemplated ringing her mother on the spot.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Clara didn’t move from her position. She gave the two newcomers a pitying look, but her lips turned up to a smirk. “I’ve heard a lot about y’all.”

Jack stared at Vianne, lips pouting in morbid curiosity. The older sibling sighed and rolled her eyes; she was getting worked up over nothing. They only had to stay here for another year till graduation, so she reckoned she would find a way to grin and bear it.

“There are rules to this household.” Her father wasted no time in listing the regulations under his roof. “You won’t be able to run amok like ya did with your mother here. First, Clara is to be respected at all times.”

Mr. Yang was blind to the seething glare Vianne threw him as she unpacked her bags across the room. It was one thing to be forced to live under these conditions, but it was a totally different thing to be mandated around by a stranger who she detested. A biting remark made its way to her tongue, but was cut short by his rambling speech.

“Curfew is 6 pm sharp. No loitering around the streets after the sun goes down,” he continued. “No boys are allowed, and there will be no parties here.”

No one, and she meant no one, told her when she got to come home. The last time her mother set her a curfew was in middle school. And it was definitely not at that time either. She wasn’t interested in dating anyone from this neighborhood, much less bringing a boy back home. Parties were out of the question, Vianne had already made up her mind that she was going to burrow herself for a year before she dipped.

“I’ll stay out as much as I want.” It was a crisp retort, and she turned up her nose. “My car will be here in a few days. I’ll be fine.”

Mr. Yang’s nose flared at the comment. His eyes darkened, reminding her of the way he used to look at her mother. She didn’t voice it, but the familiar shivers ran down her spine. Avoiding his gazem Vianne took a sudden interest in the rings on her fingers.

“This ain’t Napa County, Vianne.” Her father’s hand shook. “You’ll be down in the dirt in no time if you don’t adapt to the people here.”

She ignored his statement and pulled out her luggage of clothes. Everyone knew of the nature of the ghetto people there. That was the reason she brought her car. Whatever it was, Vianne wasn’t going to touch them with a ten-foot pole.

 “Whatever,” she mumbled. Sensing her displeasure in the conversation, Mr. Yang grumbled something about women, before throwing a stack of notebooks onto her bed. Vianne glanced at them, but made no attempt to retrieve the papers.

“These are the course intros for tomorrow.” Her father was opening a can of beer as he eyed her. “You and Jack are waking up at 7. No negotiations.”

“Sure, sure.” There was no reason to get into a fight, and she thought it was wise to choose her battles. A curt nod was all she gave him, before she slipped past her father to go find Jack. There was still time to brood over her state of affairs.

Time always flew when you were either panicking or on cloud nine. That would be the second night of the week where she didn’t get to sleep. Her eyes trailed to the calendar; today was her first day of school.

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A/N: Sorry for the slow start! Juicy drama picks up in the next chapter! Reviews, criticism, and comments are welcome :3

And here's a shoutout to @classic80sand90smovieloves2 for inspiring and helping me write this out!

[zertzertzhang]

Lookism Fanfic!

Created a little alternative reality to Lookism. I’m mostly curious and exploring the two body phenomenon of Daniel. It’s my first attempt at writing and if y’all like it, feel free to leave feedback! :) I had to add a few OC’s to help drive the plot. There’s also some candy for the Janiel shippers out there ;)

--> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940399/chapters/60364618