Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fang lets out a grumble as they shift on a wooden bench. The recent argument with their father is fresh. The look of disappointment on their father's face still burns, and the peering stares of the other churchgoers dig in, making them seethe on the bench. The anger, indignation, and shame swirl into a violent typhoon of emotion. Fang snarls at themself, the formal wear that Ripley had demanded for them to wear felt tight and uncomfortable.  They stare across the church courtyard at the weathered stone, the old tree, and the faded sign. 

‘Fucking weeds, you don’t understand anything.’

“May I sit?” A calm, deep voice startles Fang, making them almost jump straight off the bench. 

The ptero rocker looks at the man who asked the question. Calling him a mummy would be an apt description; the human man was covered head to toe in bandages. Fang blinks and shrugs. 

With that, the man sits on the opposite end of the bench, staring across. “Thank you, miss.”  

Fang sneers at the man before it turns into a cruel smirk. “I’m non-binary.” 

“Forgive me, I will do my best to ensure proper respect.” 

Fang blinks in surprise, the wind taken right out of their sails. “You… what? Not gonna say that it’s a sin before god or some bullshit?” 

“There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, man nor woman, for you are all one before the Lord.” The man turns to Fang. The warped, leather-like flesh contrasts with his piercing blue eyes, which were like a storm encapsulated in a bottle. “It matters little to me who you are; here you are a child of the Lord like me, regardless of whether you believe or not.” 

Fang blinks before turning away with a huff, pulling out their pack of cigarettes, plopping one right in before sparking it up. “Why are you here? Here to make sure the enby delinquent doesn’t damage the church or something?” 

The man shakes his head. “No, I’m on my break. I enjoy sitting here near the end of my chores, allows me to see the fruit of my labours.” 

Generic housework like cutting grass was the supposed fruit of his labours, Fang couldn’t stop the scoff. Mockery is apparent in their voice. “That’s it?” They reply, and a puff of smoke escapes.

The man shrugs in return, bandages shuffling against his clothing. “It’s not much, but it helps. It grants me a sense of control, and gives me something to do, after all, idle hands do the Devil’s work.” 

“I have no clue how your standards are so low that you can find anything fulfilling in basic bitch work.”

The bandages on the man’s face shift as his lips curl into a smile. “It’s not a cure for all of my internal ails. Sometimes at the start of the chores, it feels pointless, but I push, I finish the tasks, and I get to see the good; this temple of worship is maintained and cared for, if only for the day.” 

He stares at Fang once more, his tone gentle but secure. “Tell me, what do you do? When the world feels like it's against you, when everything doesn’t seem to go right?” 

The words cut deep, and the stunned enby blinks a few times before turning away, unable to meet the human's eye. “...I play guitar.” 

“A beautiful passion, yet you seem almost ashamed to say it, why?”  

Fang stiffens, their shoulders narrow, and their wings jut in anger. Who were they angry at? The mummified human or themself? “Because! I just... Just fuck off, alright!” 

“Fair enough, forgive me if I pressed on a sore subject.” The man easily replies, not taking Fang as a threat or their words as an insult. The two sit there in silence, the man stares out across the fields and hedges again, while Fang pretends he doesn’t exist, sucking down on the cigarrete.  

The silence made the anger within Fang quickly turn to guilt, and the familiar emotion wriggled like maggots in their stomach. 

Fang watched the man for a few moments. He didn’t shuffle away despite the outburst and didn’t watch from the corner of his eye. He just sat there, staring at the freshly cut grass, the raked leaves, and the trimmed hedges, his head high, his shoulders stable, and his hands steady. 

The ptero rocker turns away, their narrow tangerine eyes on the floor. They sigh, their wings drop pathetically, just as their shoulders slump.  “I… I’m sorry.” They mumbled out the words; it felt like ash coming out.

“I took no offence. I know it can be hard, how the pain within can dull everything else but rage and sorrow, how easy it is to lash out and justify it.” 

Fang nods their head, and the hole within recedes, the ash on their tongue gone at the forgiving nature of the man. “I, uh, never got your name.” 

“Joshua Graham. What is yours?”

“Fang.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Fang.” Joshua nods, his attention now entirely on Fang once more.    

“Uh, same,” Fang responded awkwardly. The doors to the church swing open, and families start pouring out, bringing the conversation between the two to an end. 

Joshua hums at the sight. “I suppose my break is over.” He turns to Fang once more. “For if our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things.” 

“-What?” 

Joshua gives a low chuckle. “Try to be kind to yourself, Fang, even if it’s only a little. I promise, the Lord has already forgiven you and has accepted you. Perhaps we will see each other again. Until then, go with God.” With that, Joshua stands, leaving a stunned Fang on the wooden bench.  

“Uh, nice talking to you?” Fang said to no one in particular. They just waited as families walked by. Some gave judgmental looks, while others gave sympathetic smiles. 

The rest of the Aaron family was the last to leave. Naser looked awkward as usual for him, like a mouse in a cat's shadow, afraid to draw his father’s attention to himself.  

Samantha had the same look as always, closed eyes and a vapid smile, but her steps were quicker, her head was lowered; she was embarrassed of Fang and Ripley arguing out in public,  

Ripley, on the other hand, was displeased. His face set into a foreboding glare, his wings straight, and his hands turned into fists. The displeasure on his face grows even more when he spots Fang sitting on the bench. He stomps past them. “You're grounded, Lucy.” 

Fang snarls at the deadname, but they stand and follow behind the rest of the family. Naser turns to his sibling to give a weak smile, which fades in a second when Fang glares daggers at him.

The enby rocker turns to the bench. Sunday church wasn’t as bad as Fang expected it to be.

Chapter Text

“Hello again, Fang.” Joshua said, his voice calm, just like before. 

Fang’s lip turns ever so slightly upward. “Hey, dude.” 

“Out here once more, another argument?” 

The ptero’s back tingles in embarrassment. They shake their head.  “No, just prefer being out here.” Staring at the front doors of the church, they frown. “I hate all the looks the people in there give me. As if I’m some fucking freak for them to turn their snoots up at.” 

Fang shakes their head with vigour, turning to the pretty patches of flowers and trimmed green grass. “I much rather be out then sit next to my asshole dad, or fucked winged retard of a brother.” 

“My, you seem to hold a concerning amount of vitriol for your family. May I ask what causes this hate? To speak such harsh things about your family?” 

Fang spits out a scoff, their arms crossed as their lips twist into a sneer. “My family are assholes; mom is always in her own fucking world, acting like everything is perfect. When she does open her damn eyes, always full of disappointment, always for me. Treats me like that damn kid, calling me her Princess Pirate and all this other shit.” 

Fang heaves over, their lips curl upward into an angry smirk, gritting their teeth, eyes turned into pinpricks. “My fucking dad? Constantly fucking dead names me, calls me a embarrassment, looks at like I’m a fucking failure every time. He starts shit with me for no reason, always looking for reasons to undermine me, always comparing me to my brother or talks shit about my friends about how bad of a influence they are on me.” 

A scoff escapes them, and the smile turns downright toxic, almost manic. “And Naser? My little goodie-two-shoes fucked winged retard of a brother, always the damn golden child, ‘Naser is such a good boy, why can’t you be like him, Lucy?’ or ‘Naser gets top grades in school, you need to study more to be like him, Lucy, else you won’t amount to anything.’ As if I want to be a loser like him, only friends being a two-faced parasaur cunt and bunch of fucking meatheads who take steroids. He’s so fucking annoying too, always rubbing it in, trying to be such a good little brother , being all patronising and shit.” 

Fang slumps on the bench, their intense rant finished, heaving in and out for gulps of fresh air. A familiar itch at the back of the throat returns, the ptero rocker fishes out her box of cigs with shaky hands, about to plop one right in her mouth. Joshua’s stoic gaze makes them stop, they nervously tap on the pack. “Uh, smoking won’t like cause any flashbacks or something for you, right?” 

“The smell can bring back memories, but I’ve grown used to it.” 

Fang’s hand freezes, a lump in their throat. The small cartoon felt uncomfortable in their clammy palm. “I, shit, sorry for smoking last time, I-I didn’t realise…” 

Joshua shakes his head. “It’s fine, as I said, I’ve grown used to the sensation. If you want to indulge to calm your nerves then, go ahead, although please discard the butts afterward, this is still a temple of the Lord, and should be kept clean and respected.” 

Fang stares. The itch grows more and more demanding, like a parasite trying to control them. The cartoon is stuffed back into their jeans. “I’ll just, uh, smoke later.” 

The burned man nods, a spark of appreciation in his eyes. “Thank you, it speaks well of your character to resist temptation for a stranger.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not a total bitch, you’re… alright, nice even-,” Joshua huffs in amusement at that. “-I don’t exactly want to cause some kind of PTSD moment for you or anything.” 

Joshua hums. “The golden rule.” 

“What?”

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Perhaps one of the most popular verses known by most.-” 

“-That’s bullshit,” Fang said, a look of displeasure clear as memories of their band being mocked and ridiculed rushed in. “I’ve been treated like shit and I don’t bother anyone. Been called things like a never/were, faggot and even been laughed at by the entire fucking school during a concert, all of those bigoted assholes would just point their fingers, say shit like; ‘Beethoven weeps.’ Or that my band’s music is ‘a torture technique.’ All of them are just a bunch of fucking weeds.” 

A deep frown forms on Fang’s face as they hunch over, their eyes watering. “You know what the worst part about their insults is? They’re fucking right. Doesn’t matter how unique our sound is, or how rare a twin bass band is, if it sounds like shit, it’s shit. Anyone that says we sound good or even okay is either; a contrarian, a schizo or just someone too nice to speak the truth.” The pale dino slumps on the bench, their wings pathetically held up like a leaf on a twig. The tears mix with the mascara and trail down their pale face. “The insults and the jabs just twist the knife, as if I didn’t already know how terrible we sound.” 

Joshua pats Fang on the shoulder, the warm fabric of the bandages draws the enby rocker’s attention. “Father Hills speaks of your skill, said that the last time you played the organ piano, it was beautiful, masterful even. I know the piano is far more difficult to master than a guitar, so tell me, what’s changed?” 

“We,- “ Fang lets out a sigh. “-play twin basses.” 

“Why not change one of the basses then? Surely that would help mediate the issue.” Joshua asked, his head tilted curiously. 

“The group said no, so I play bass. It's too late to change anything now.” 

“Do you want to play bass?”

“No, I… actually don’t like it, prefer acoustic, it's my favourite instrument.” Joshua’s gaze makes the ptero stutter. “But it’s a group decision, so I've got to go with it.” Joshua still didn’t respond, no need for his words when his piercing blue eyes were enough. “Look, they’re my friends, they wouldn’t do me wrong.” 

“Yet you have to sacrifice, forced to play something you have no desire to play, you’ve even said it yourself, that the music your band has created is not up to either your standards or those of others. This band is to be fun, no? A joint hobby with friends.” 

“W-Well, we also want to go big and sell out concerts and merchandise. Become world famous.”

“Does that matter? They say music is an expression of the soul, of your emotions. How will the music sound if your heart is not in it? Do you think you will progress far on this path of thorns?” 

“I…-“ 

The door to the church swings open, an odd mix of emotions at the sight of families pouring out; grateful for the probing questions to be over, but angry at the approaching end of Joshua’s calm wisdom. 

“Suppose my break is over; my final words for you until next time. God’s greatest gift to us is free will. Exercise this gift, don’t force yourself into this hole.” 

Fang’s snoot opens and closes, their voice as quiet as a church mouse. “I’m scared. What happens if they don’t let me? If I lose what little friends I have?” 

“No one can truly predict the future apart from the Lord, so to entrust your own future in the hands of your friends speaks of your faith in them, so believe that when you tell them the truth, the pain it causes you, trust they will do right and accept you.” Joshua rolls his head. “And if they don’t, I ask you, are they truly friends of yours?”

Joshua plants his hand on Fang’s shoulder. “Have faith in yourself, the path is dark, but it is always there for you to follow, and you are never alone on it; all you must do is ask for help.” With that, he stands, Fang following suit. “Until next time, God be with you.” 

“Yeah, you too.” Fang stares as Joshua heads toward the church, a horde of people exiting simultaneously. As usual, their family was not the first to leave. They pull out their phone, tapping in their passcode and pressing on the band group chat. 

{-Can we-} 

Fang sighs and deletes the message. 

{-Need to talk about the band.}

{The Raptor Plug: Wut about? U all good?} 

{Purple Buggirl: I was thinking the same thing tbh that upcoming concert at school is gonna be a hit i can tell.} 

Fang’s mouth goes dry at that; their hands shake at the thought of pointing crowds and rows of mocking laughter. 

{-Talk more about it soon but we need to make changes.}     

{Purple Buggirl: Yea i agree need to be ready for the big hit.} 

“Get off your phone, we’re going.” Ripley grunts as he walks by. Naser and Samantha were walking along with him. 

Fang scoffs. “Hello to you too, asshole.” Despite their words, they follow in their family's footsteps. Their hands are still shaking a bit as they rub their wrist. For the first time in Fang’s life, they were looking forward to the church. Hopefully, they had good news to share with Joshua next time they met. 

Chapter Text

Joshua sits in a fine mahogany chair, he hums as he wraps a fresh bandage over his hand. He doesn't move from his position despite finishing rewrapping his hand. His hand grabs and tugs at his other wrist. Warmth builds and then spreads to the rest of his body. At first, it felt like a mere singe from a candle or embers hitting him from a campfire, but soon it grew to an agonising burn: he could feel his nerves sizzle in his blood, boiling to a froth. 

Joshua grunts, his jaw locked tight as he grits his teeth. His hand clenched into a fist. He closes his eyes, but the light of the flame pierces his eyelids, filling his retinas with an orange glow. 

A phone rings, pulling him out of his stupor. There was no fire, no nothing. He lets out a deep sigh as he grabs his smartphone. Pseudon. Joshua stares at it for a moment before reluctantly answering the call. “Speak.” 

“Joshua, asking for a favour.” The voice was gruff and unfriendly as ever. 

“That being?” 

“Brat’s done some stupid shit, embarrassed himself at school and according to him the other kids are bullying him. He’s too much of a pussy to fight back, so can I send him your way?” 

Joshua's lips curl into a deep frown, his blue eyes narrow. “Perhaps you should support your son as his father rather than sending him away.” 

The scoff on the other side made that old feeling within Joshua rear its head. “Like you would know anything about raising a kid-,” The mummified man couldn’t deny that claim, however, anger still bubbled within him. “-Besides, Anon wants this anyway, he’s been begging to transfer schools. Now, can I send him your way, or do I need to start looking at apartments for him?” 

“There’s room for him here.” 

“Good, that’s real good, I’m sure you’ll toughen the brat up. He’s still scared shitless of you.” Pseudon finishes with a snort, while Joshua’s glare softens. “Your sister is wondering how you are.” 

“I’m fine, as always. I'm a little busy, so let’s skip the pleasantries. I'll send you my address. Please notify me when he begins his journey.” 

“Alright, thanks for this, Joshua.” 

Joshua hums in response and ends the call. The burned man sits there, staring across the kitchen. Seems his home wouldn’t be so empty now.

Joshua was quietly raking the leaves, his thoughts subdued by the work. “Hey, Joshua!” Fang shouted as they rushed toward Joshua, the man turning to them. The enby dino beams at the man, almost challenging the sun's radiance with their smile. 

“Hello, Fang. You seem to be in high spirits.” 

“I talked with my friends about the band, told them I didn’t want to play bass anymore, and after some discussions , we dropped the twin basses; I get to play my favourite instrument!” Fang almost bounces on the spot in raw excitement, Joshua smiles at the joy of the ptero, a complete 180 from the bitter first impression. 

“T-Thanks, by the way.” 

Joshua shakes his head, and his smile weakens, but is still genuine. “You did this yourself, Fang.”  

“Yeah, but I never would have done it if we didn’t talk about it.” 

“Words are easy, action is not. It takes strength to do what you did, take pride in that.”

Fang’s smile was shaky. “Well, still, thanks. I was probably a burden with all my shit.” 

“A burden shared is a burden halved. As your elder, as a man of God, it is my moral duty to help and guide you on your path, if only for a bit.”    

A snort escapes Fang; they couldn’t help it. “It’s funny, if it was some priest or anyone else, I’d say it’s total and complete bullshit spewing out of their mouth, but not you. You seem actually genuine, not some two-faced asshole preaching for the sake of preaching, but someone who really believes in god, although you do like to uh go on for a while.” 

“I suppose I am rather verbose.” Joshua finishes with a chuckle. “But I wasn’t always this way. I’ve changed a great deal, not just physically.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” Fang asked nervously. “A-A burden shared is a burden halved, right?” 

Joshua stares and lets out a short laugh. As it dies down, he sighs, his smile gone as he leans on a rake. “Hmm, it’s not something I enjoy, but I pray to God that you will learn from my mistakes. I failed a critical mission in the Middle-East, and for this, I was punished; marked for death by my commanding officer. I remember the transport plane I was on exploding, I remember plummeting to the floor, and I remember waking up to leaking jet fuel covering me, and the subsequent spark that set me ablaze.” Joshua stared at his bandaged hand, opening and closing it as the heat from before scorched itself back into sensation, his nerves popping at the perceived heat. 

“H-How the hell did you survive?” 

“The Lord granted me a second chance, but I had to be baptised once more, this time in flame. It felt like the gates of Hell had opened to devour my flesh. I viewed it then as my future had I not changed my ways.”  

“Your ways? ” 

“I was a monster, Fang. There’s no pretending otherwise. I have murdered dozens. Innocent blood has soaked my hands, my skin, and so it had to all be washed away. First with water then with fire.” 

“I… I, right, well, you seem nice now? Even good.” Fang fidgets, uncomfortable with the idea that one of the few people they could speak to without judgement was a murderer. “Why? How could you kill people? I mean, you don’t seem the serial killer type.”  

“This way lies the path to Hell. I wasn’t always a beast. Back then, I was just a man, eager to explore the world and other cultures. At first, I was a missionary. I would preach the word of God across the country, but that wasn’t enough for me, so I decided to join the military. Eventually, I was selected to become a Green Beret, and from there, that was when I met my commanding officer from the CIA, Edward.” Joshua grinds his teeth at the mention of the name, as his hands clench around the rake. He lets out a warm breath, almost hot enough that you could see the steam in the cool air. 

“Myself, Edward and a few others had been given the task of preparing insurgents loyal to the US: We delivered them weapons and other equipment to help them win against the other war bands and to help overthrow their government, this became teaching them to utilise the equipment properly, then training them squad tactics, which became punishment for failure.” 

“The number of our insurgents grew, so did their reverence for us. Before long, we were leading them; they believed God sent us to guide them. Edward enjoyed the power, the control. I, however, just followed Edward like a dumb animal following others; I perpetuated cruelty so horrid the tribes and warbands still fear my name after all these years: Hangman.” Joshua spits the name out with rancour, clear in his tone. The raw hate rattles around in Fang’s head. Gone was the calm groundskeeper, replaced by something vengeful.  

The rake in his hands snapped like a pitiful twig. Fang startles at it, while Joshua stares at it, silent. He lets out a sigh. “I deserved to burn, of that I have no doubt. Forgiveness is complicated. Do I deserve it? A man who has killed countless? I don’t know, but I strive to be better and not fall into that chasm of darkness again.” 

“You… have you ever failed— Fell, I mean?” 

“Sometimes, the past can’t be forgotten, especially with how it’s marked my flesh, but I never remain, I always continue, even if it hurts.” 

“W-wouldn’t it just be easier not to push yourself? To not risk fucking something up even worse then it currently is?” 

“Easier, yes, better no. Was it easy when you spoke to your friends about playing the bass guitar?” 

“No.” Fang said quietly, they saw where this line of questioning was going. 

“If you were given the choice once more, would you take the easy path?” 

“No, but that’s different, they’re like you said, my friends, the other stuff isn’t so clear cut.” 

“Sadly, it rarely ever is. But waiting for things to get better or worse will not help you. Just like with your friends, you have to push on for yourself. It will be difficult, but I know you have the strength to do it, and I promise it will be for the best.” Joshua lets out a sigh. “Forgive me, Fang. I will have to end this conversation now and go and get a replacement for the rake. Before I do, however, I have a question for you. You attend Volcano High, yes?” 

“Uh, yeah, why?” 

“My nephew will live with me for the rest of his academic year. I’m curious, is it a good school?” 

“I guess? Never really put much thought into it, although we don’t have any other skinnies at  the school, so he might get some attention.” 

Joshua deadpans at the dinosaur. “Fang, while I assume it was just an innocent mistake, I expect you not to use slurs, especially in the house of our Lord.“

Fang blushes in embarrassment. “S-Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it-.” 

“-It’s alright. I know you are not the type of person to be intentionally offensive or such. Still, words have influence you may not see, Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and health to the bones. Until next time. God be with you.” 

Anon knocks on the door, his heart thumping in his chest. ‘Fuck, how do I start this? Do I salute? How do you properly salu-?’ The door opens, and Anon’s heart almost drops as Joshua steps out. In a panic, the bald teen stands as straight as possible and slams a hand to his forehead, a slight clap echoes as he does so. “R-Reporting for duty, Sir!” 

There’s a moment of silence between the two before Joshua lets out a low chuckle. “Hello, Anon.” 

Anon quickly removes his hand from his forehead. “I-I, Hello, sir?” 

Joshua shakes his head in clear disapproval. “Do you want to call me sir? Or would you be more comfortable with Joshua?” 

“I uh, what?” 

“I’m not going to bite your head off, despite what your father told you, or what you might remember of me. Call me whatever makes you comfortable. Come, let us get your bags into your room.” Joshua walks past Anon, grabbing the largest bags and lifting them with ease, the same bags that Anon needed both hands and pretty much all of his strength to lift. 

Anon follows Joshua, carrying the rest of his bags into Anon’s new, comfortably sized room. “This is yours.” 

“All of this?” 

“Yes, I believe it’s adequate for a boy your age.”

“I, yeah. It’s great, uh thank you, si-Joshua.” 

“Excellent, you will do your fair share of chores. This may be your room now, but I will not permit it to become a pigsty, understood?” 

“Yep.” 

A silence rolls in, which turns awkward very quickly. Joshua nods as he lets out a sigh. “I’ll let you get settled in. If there’s anything you need, come speak to me.” Joshua goes to leave, but is interrupted by Anon.  

“Uh, hey, thanks for this. I don’t know if my dad told you anything about what happened, but I really do appreciate it.” 

“You always have family, Anon. I know I didn’t leave a good impression on you when you were young, but I promise, I will assist you in any way I can.” 

“T-Thanks.” 

“Of course.” Joshua left with that, leaving Anon alone in his new room. 

The lanky human hums as he sits on the bed, the soft covers and comfy mattress feel great after the long journey here. ‘That went a lot better than I was expecting, hell, maybe Dinofornia will be better than Rock Bottom.’

Chapter Text

Anon spotted Joshua’s truck in the parking lot. He opened the door to the truck's backseats, safely planting the pizza boxes he had bought from the concert. “Where did you get those?” Joshua asked. 

Anon hops into the passenger seat. “Uh, cool guy named Naser, he bought a whole bunch of pizzas for his sister’s concert, and he said I can take some home.” 

Joshua hums, his ears pricking at the mention of Naser. “Oh? How was the concert?” 

“Pretty good, actually. Weird though; everyone was talking sh-uh bad at first, but after the band played, pretty much the entire auditorium cheered, except for one guy who laughed at them, saying they ‘finally decided to play right.’ Naser throttled that dude, and Spears had to break it up.” 

“Not surprising, circumstances change when family is involved.”

Anon’s brow quirks. “What?” 

“Nothing. Was Fang pleased with their performance?” 

“Uh, yeah, she seemed happy, I guess, wasn’t really paying much attention when the music finished.” 

“Fang is non-binary, refer to them as they prefer.” 

Anon blinks. He knows what non-binary is; he was just shocked that the mummy driving the car does, or even cares. “Why? Actually, wait. How do you even know who Fang or Naser is?” 

“I know of them from Church, but that’s besides the point. You said people were already insulting them before they began playing. It sounds to me that Fang is someone who is picked on quite a bit by the other students, humiliated by their mockery.-“ Joshua turns to Anon as they wait at a red light. “-Does that sound familiar to you?” 

Anon opens and closes his mouth like a fish, words failing to escape him. The skinny teen turns away, slumping in his seat.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have referred to Rock Bottom. Undoubtedly, it’s still raw for you, but my reason for bringing it up is that Fang is someone like you; someone unsure of themselves. For a smart young man such as yourself, common courtesy like respecting their identity is simple and can mean a great deal to someone who’s struggling with so much.” 

Anon lets out a sigh. “Sure, whatever. Not like they’ll end up talking to me; some bald loser when the entire school pretty much cheered for them.” 

“I don’t see a loser, I see a young man who’s socially awkward but a kind soul underneath, an intelligent boy who’s unsure of himself like so many others, but someone who will discover himself eventually and do great things.” 

Anon chokes at that, his eyes wide as dinner plates as he stares at Joshua. The bandaged man’s eyes focused entirely on the road, his body relaxed. No hint of deceit in his tone or posture. A conflicting feeling bubbles up in Anon at the praise of his character. 

“How was school other than that? Make any friends?” 

Still shellshocked by his uncle's words of praise, he stutters. “I-It was okay. It's too early to say, but Naser is a bro. I don't know if we would call each other friends, though.” 

“You’re right, one day is too early to tell, but keep an open mind. Be friendly and polite, you’ll be surprised how far kindness to your fellow will get you.” Joshua taps the wheel with his fingers. “Anon, would you care for going to the cinema over the weekend? I have heard the youth from Church mention new movies that piqued their interest.” 

“Uh, sure?” 

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to, but I think it would be good, something fun to help you settle in.” 

“No, yeah, I think it would be cool, I just don’t have a lot of cash.” Anon rubs the back of his hairless head in shame, his lips twisted in a frown.” 

“So? I believe I asked you, I shall pay for your ticket and whatever snacks you desire at the cinema.” 

“R-Really? Uh, thanks.” 

“No need for thanks, we’re family.” 

Anon shifts in his seat as he stares at his uncle. Those blue eyes lacked the intense focus that terrified him as a child. The straight, narrow posture that made him tower over Anon when he was just knee-high is gone, replaced by something humbler, softer—words that a younger Anon would never use to describe his uncle.  

Anon turns away, in his mind it was pretty gay, to analyse your uncle like a creep; even worse for it to be your very religious uncle, who was former Special Forces. 

Joshua snorts. 

Anon blinks as he turns, his cheeks red with embarrassment. Joshua’s eyes were on him, and there was evident amusement as his melted brows creased. “You have your mother’s habit.” 

And now Anon wished the earth would open up and eat him, or maybe god to smite him through the truck’s roof. “I-I like girls?” Anon facepalms at that, as Joshua lets out a bark of laughter. The older man lets out a light sigh. 

“It’s fine, I understand that I have changed greatly. I was a poor uncle to you in your adolescent years, for that, I’m sorry, but I’ll support you; through college or university, whatever may be, I will help.” 

“I dunno about universities, don't think I’m smart enough for them.” 

“Oh, I disagree. I believe if you put your mind to it, you will accomplish anything, like getting into a university of your choice.” 

“But-“ 

“-But nothing. Have some faith and try. I think you will surprise yourself. We’re home.” Joshua said as the truck pulled into the driveway. “Do you plan on eating those pizzas or would you rather I make you something?” 

“I-I’ll have the pizzas, quick and easy, right? No need to trouble you for anything.” 

Joshua shrugs as he exits the vehicle. “It’s not a burden, but if you truly want to eat them, go ahead, perhaps I will take a slice or two.” 

His uncle’s words and actions once again threw off Anon. An unsure smile forms on his pale face. The day seemed just a bit brighter, the week easier. 

“Find a partner and get prepared.” The short elderly science teacher said. Anon’s heart dropped like a lead anvil at the words. 

His head lowers in dread, but despite the gnawing terror, he takes a calming breath, halting the budding emotion. ‘Shit, maybe I’ll be alright, just be chill and approach someone like a normal person, normal you hear that brain? No dumb shit like that gay stuff with Joshua, don’t want the rest of the class thinking I’m a total sperg or a fag, god forbid both.’ 

“Hey.” A voice makes Anon shoot out of his seat. He turns to find the ptero rocker from the concert. “Let’s be partners.” 

“Thanks, you too,” Anon blurted out, his brain catching up with what he said. He almost face-palmed, but the feathered musician's confused face interrupted the action. Anon cleared his throat, trying to pull off a chill façade, his stutter, however, broke that in a moment. “U-Uh, yeah, that’ll be cool.” 

The dino shrugs and takes a seat right next to him. “So, you’re Joshua’s nephew?” 

“Yeah, my name's Anon. Nice to meet you.” He gives a nervous smile, shattering the already broken emotional mask into shards. 

“Fang. You know how to do the assignment?” 

“I can understand most of it.” Fang nods at that, as the pale human skims through the questions, his eyes darting along the page and only stopping on the ones he is unsure of. As he passes off some of the answers to the rocker next to him, he asks a question. “So, why did you pick me as a partner?”

A low hiss escapes the dino, startling him. “Because everyone else here is a fuckin’ poser. I heard them talking shit about me, now some of them want to be my friend? As if these assholes weren’t laughing at me last time, as if these fuckin’ weeds don’t look down on me. Fuck 'em, it's all bullshit, and I wouldn't want them as my friend.” They grunt out, glaring at some of the students.

Anon nods at that. ‘Yeah, but at least you're super popular now, the bullies can't make fun of you anymore, especially with a bro like Naser.’ 

“Plus you’re new here, and Joshua’s your uncle, I figure you’ll be at least somewhat nice compared to the other assholes here.” Fang said with a smile, the anger at the mention of the other students was gone. 

“Right.” Anon trails off as he contemplates the quick 180 at the mention of his uncle, why the mention of him calmed the ptero. Anon gives an internal shrug at the thought as he returns to the questions, biting back a yawn at how mind-numbing they were. 

The two enter a silence, not an uncomfortable quiet, something peaceful as Anon scribbles in his chicken scratching and passes the answers along to Fang. “How are you two getting along?” Fernsworth asks, the old man smiling at the two, happy that they were working diligently, even more so that it was Fang.  

“Doing fine, Dr Fernsworth.” Fang mutters out, copying another answer on the sheet.

“I see, and you Anon?” 

“Yeah, what she said.” 

Fernsworth’s wrinkled face sours, his lips twist into a frown as he winces. The lanky human blinks at the reaction. He turns to find Fang glaring daggers at him. “She?” The suddenly angry and threatening ptero said, their wings beginning to unfurl in anger. 

‘The fuck is her probl-oh shit, that whole non-binary thing.’ 

Fang opens their mouth to scream. “Just lik-” 

“-Sorry, what they said.” 

And just like that, Fang’s anger deflates like a balloon, their rigid wings slumping. “W-Wha?” Surprise was clear on their face. “Uh, okay.” Fernsworth lets out a sigh of relief and walks to another pairing of students.  “Sorry.” 

‘Was it really this easy?’ Anon nods. He was doing well so far, so there was no reason to ruin it by talking. He didn’t trust himself enough not to be a spazmoid next to a female. He shows the final answer to Fang, allowing them to copy it. The ptero blinks, a remorseful grimace on their face.

“You’re, uh… pretty cool, Anon. My bad for almost shouting at you. Can we keep it between us?” Fang said, a nervous smile on their snoot. 

“Sure?” 

“Thanks, dude.” The nervous smile brightens as they stare at Anon. The human blanks, his face locked into a stoic gaze, internally, however. 

‘FEMOID SMILING AND THANKING ME! DEFCON 2! I REPEAT DEFCON 2!’ 

“Anon?” Fang’s voice pulls him out of his autist alarms. 

“S-Sorry, was just, uh thinking on… wondering how you know Joshua?” He did an internal fist pump at the save. 

The ptero enby shrugs. “Have to go Sunday church with my family every time, and I can’t be fucking bothered with that, so I just sit outside. We just talk, I dunno, he’s just chill, easy to talk to, and… I dunno gives like good advice.” 

After that, the bell rings, and Fernsworth's voice calls out. “Please leave the worksheets on my desk, and I will review them.” 

“Hey, Anon. You got someone to hang out with at lunch?” 

‘Oh, shit. This wasn’t in the cards, I was supposed to go under the radar. Just blowing her off seems like a bad idea. What happens if she talks to Joshua? Fuck, if I go with her, that increases chances of my power level being revealed.’

‘I get to hang out with a chick, though.’ 

“I’m in.” 

“What?” Fang tilts their head in confusion. 

“Fuck, sorry, meant sure, thanks for the offer?” 

“Awesome, what’s your number? We’ll meet up at lunch.” 

“So, uh, nice to meet you guys?” Anon said, a slight wobble in his voice as Trish glared daggers at him. He was expecting a few strange looks from Fang’s friends, but he was not expecting the hostility from the purple pint-sized herbivore. 

“Cool to meet you, bro.” Reed, the salmon-coloured raptor, was far more amicable, giving him a double thumbs up. 

“Why’s the skinnie here, Fang?” Trish spits out, apparent disdain in her voice. 

“Because I wanted him here.” Fang responds. Trish goes to argue back, but given that she was the only one objecting to Anon’s presence, she refocuses her efforts on something else, and Anon is quickly ignored. 

“Whatever, we should move on to actual important stuff, like the band. We should get back to twin basses,” Trish said, her voice terminal, as if it was already destined to happen.  

“Wha-? Why?!” Fang hisses across the table. Eyes wide as their pupils dilate in terror.       

“Look, those losers don’t hate us anymore because it’s not cool to hate us! If we return to twin-basses, they’ll love us.” 

“But acoustic is my favourite instrument, Trish! Not bass.” 

“Look, we gotta make changes to the band to be unique and stand out, I’m sorry, Fang, really, but maybe you like bass more now those bigoted assholes won’t hate us just ‘cause.” 

Fang turns to Reed, his former smile gone, he glances at Trish, who stares expectantly at him. “I don’t want you to play an instrument you don't like as much as your favourite, but Trish is right about this stuff, y’know? We gotta stand out to stand a chance.” 

Give someone a taste of heaven and then force them to suffer hell; that’s how you break someone. 

Fang’s eyes snap onto the only person at the table who hasn’t spoken on this yet: Anon. “W-What do you think, Anon?” 

Anon recoils as if struck. He had just met Fang’s friends, and he didn’t know pretty much anything about them; he didn’t even know much about Fang. “I-I dunno, this might be… something between you guys.” 

Trish scoffs. “Exactly, why the hell do you want the skinnie to weigh in on band business?” 

“‘Cuz, he’s a-a unbiased opinion, a third party who’s not like the other assholes who made fun of us.” Fang said, their eyes locked onto Anon.. “Come on, Anon, just give a quick opinion.” 

He could just not. Shrug this off and repeat that it’s not his business, but the ptero’s eyes held desperation, like a cornered animal, pleading with him to assist. Anon blinks and takes a deep breath. “Is twin-basses really a good idea?” 

Trish glowers at him. “Yeah, it is, what would you know?” 

“I know that twin-bass bands that make it are super rare.” Anon stated. 

The purple trike rolls her eyes, crossing her arms with a smug smile. “That’s the point, dumbass. Doesn’t happen often, which means more attention on us.” 

“Right, and how many bands do you think had the same train of thought but didn’t make it? Way higher, no?” 

Just like that, the smugness cracks. A moment of doubt twinkles in Trish’s eyes before the herbivore clamps down on it, a scorching scowl targets Anon. “They either gave up or didn’t have the skill to make it.” 

“Do you have the skill?” 

Trish’s glare turns downright hateful, and even Reed frowns at that. 

‘Shouldn’t have said it like that, fuck, why am I doing this? About to be gored by Trigga or mauled by carfehead.’ 

But he pushes on, no point in stopping now. “D-Don’t mean to say you're bad or anything, but like I heard some problems back at the concert you guys had. If you guys haven’t perfected the standard way, how can you get the twin-basses right?” 

Anon was absolutely bullshitting this, not really certain of what he was saying but despite the lack of confidence, Fang nodded along to everything he said as his words had an apparent effect on Reed and even Trish. 

“I don’t think we’re ready for twin-basses, Trish, I don’t even want to play it again until I’m confident.” Fang follows up, the words knock out whatever argument Trish was trying to form in response to Anon. 

Trish gives a quick snarl at Anon but frowns at Fang. “Alright, maybe another concert or something, more practice sessions.” A smile forms on Fang’s face. 

The group falls into small talk, or rather, Fang and Trish. Anon is more focused on his food, not willing to push into the group anymore after the discussion, while Reed stares absent-minded, his frown still present. 

The bell goes off and Anon quickly escapes, quick byes given to the whole group. Only Reed and Fang respond. Trish gives an annoyed gaze, watching him the entire way as he rushes out, dodging the rainbow mob of saurians, his phone buzzes as he gets into the hallway. 

{Fang: Thx for standing up for me cya in science}

Anon smiles at his phone. A slight warmth fills his chest, the idea that he has actually done something valuable and helped someone.

Chapter Text

Naser rubs his wet eyes with the back of his hand. Fresh out of Campus Beautification, and here he was, sitting on the curb of the church’s parking lot, weeping to himself. He didn’t want to go home and face his father. Didn’t want to be shouted at like Fang; didn’t want to hear how disappointed Ripley was in him, he couldn’t handle it. The mere reminder that he was a failure in his father’s eyes needled him in the chest. Bags under his eyes and a crisscross of red lines in the white sclera of his eyes. 

“Hello, Naser.” 

The young athlete stiffens, his back straightens, and his deep frown contorts into a slight, confident smirk. The masquerade of the golden child is put back on, and the protruding rot of vulnerability and fragility is swept under the smiling veil. 

He turns to find Joshua, the bandaged man he’s seen around the church but never actually spoken to. 

“Can I sit?” 

Naser blanks. “Of course.” he said, a disarming smile on his snoot. “Uh, can I ask how you know my name?” 

Joshua doesn’t respond immediately, sitting on the curb beside Naser. “Your sister told me your name, from last we spoke.” 

Naser’s smile fades. “Sibling, sh-they are non-binary.” The Ptero corrected, his eyes locked on the man. 

Joshua nods, a slight chuckle escaping him. “Forgive me, I’m an older man, as such, I can be rather forgetful at times, but I assure you, I won’t make that mistake again. You’re a good brother, defending your sibling.”

“Thanks?” Naser said, his brows lift upward in slight confusion, his chest, however, tweaks at hearing the compliment. A discordant mix of emotion within; an aching throb, and a soothing warmth. 

 “This isn’t a very comfortable spot. Why have you chosen it?” Joshua asked, no judgment or demand, just a simple question. 

Naser’s face contorts in slight panic, his mind quickly throws him a lifeline, to salvage something that wasn’t in any real danger. “U-Uh, car overheated, older model. Sometimes I got to let it cool down, and I figured this was the safest place to wait and let it, y’know, catch a break.” 

“A Challenger, overheating? Shall we check the cooling system?”  

And the lifeline thrown to him by his mind snaps into tiny pieces. “W-Wha? Nonono, no need, I’m taking it to the garage, soon, so it’s fine. Don’t want you getting dirty for no reason.” His smile crooked. 

“The house of the Lord is always open for its children; there is no need to lie for your reason being here.” 

Naser gulps, thorns prod at his heart for being caught. “Sorry.” He said, his head low as if a guillotine was over his neck. 

“You seem ashamed of such a small thing.” 

“I-I just shouldn’t lie.” 

“Tell me then, why have you chosen to come here?”

Naser opens and closes his mouth. His hands clenched into fists. The urge to tell someone, to vent, was so overwhelming. “C-Can you keep it a secret?” 

“I am not ordained by the church, but rest assured, anything you tell me will be known by only me and the Lord.”

Those words made the dam within burst; it didn’t matter that Joshua was a stranger. “I just needed some space, I’m in trouble at school, because I punched someone at a concert, he was making fun of my sist-sibling. I just saw red and knocked him out, so I now got campus beautification for a month and, fuck I, just can’t.” His hands rest on his nape as he lowers his head. The stabbing pain evolved to spikes of agony, the shame within him building.  

Joshua pats Naser on the shoulder. “You’re protective of your sibling. Why is that something to be ashamed of?” 

“Because, dad’s shouting at me, asking if I want to be a fuck-up, mom looks disappointed and my girlfriend is just non-stop digging it in, saying that this will look bad on my sheet and could ruin some scholarships for me. All of this shit, and Fang still fucking hates me.” Naser blubbers out. The rot begins to ooze out from his mask. The brittle nature front and centre, but the young Ptero couldn’t find it in him to care. “I just…” He clutches his chest, tears drip onto the floor. Pathetic, I fuck up everything, being a boyfriend, son, brother, just an all around mistake. 

Fucking failure. Can’t do anything rig-

“Breath, count to three.” 

Naser blinks and does as told. 

One.

Two. 

Three. 

“Now exhale, count to three.” 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

The toxic venom within settles, if only for the moment. The dark scales of his cheeks turn a cherry red, his lips twist into a narrow frown. “I’m… sorry.” 

Joshua shakes his head. “No need to apologise, you are in the home of the Lord, as such you are not alone here: There is no shame in feeling overwhelmed, no shame in feeling confused, no shame in feeling lost.” The tall man goes through his pocket, a packet of tissues in his wrapped palm, 

Naser takes them, his hand shivers as a sniffle escapes him. “…what do I do?” He squeaks out, his meek voice heard only by Joshua. 

“I don’t know, all I can offer you is an ear to listen, and a place to unleash your pain within, perhaps from there, we can help you on your journey. Soothe the pain within. It won’t be easy, doubt of the mind, of the soul is difficult to remedy, but just because it’s difficult doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile to get better.” 

There’s a minute of silence as conflict rages on Naser’s face before one side wins, and he shakes his head. “I’m alright. I can handle it, just been a shitty day.” 

Joshua hums. It was clear he didn’t believe it, Naser didn’t either, but the burned man would not push any further. “If you ever feel like you’re having another day like this, know that I am always open to listening to your woes, if not me. Father Ashton is also willing.” 

“I-thanks, if it gets bad as today, I’ll, uh, keep it in mind… I never actually got your name.” 

“Joshua Graham.”

“Right, well, thanks, Joshua.” Naser said, as he shoots up, desperate to run from this, to pretend it was all right. “I should go.” 

Joshua nods, standing along with Naser. “Cast your burdens on the Lord and He shall sustain you. I know it can be hard, that you believe you deserve to suffer in silence, but please don’t. Speak to me, or Father Ashton, we are willing to help, and we will not judge or belittle you, no matter what you think.” 

Naser chokes, a lump in his throat. Tears threatening to return, to break whatever was left of his golden boy persona.  “I-I’ll think on it.”

“God be with you, I hope your days brighten.” 

Naser nods, unable to speak, afraid that his voice might crack once more, so he rushes to his car. He reverses out, but the gaze of the bandaged human stuck with him the whole way home; he almost wanted to go right back, to pour out the pus and filth within to the man who offered to listen. 

He pulls into the driveway of his home. He stares at the door, resentment and anguish on his face as he hunches over the wheel. He blinks as he sits straight, stoicism locks on his face. 

Into the fire he goes. 

Anon groans as he collapses onto the wooden bench with a short scythe by his side. His noodle arms ache, his pallid skin damp with sweat. He completed his task, a labour that only Hercules could accomplish: 

Cutting the grass at church. 

The skinny teen frowns, it took all of his effort to do the just one of the job and it wore him out while his uncle, a man who’s been almost burnt alive and also his senior by a significant amount of years, still seems as healthy as an ox, no signs of slowing down, doing triple the amount of work, Anon did. 

It was embarrassing, no other word for it. No surprise he was bullied for being so puny, so frail. 

“You did good work.” Joshua said as he sat without any fanfare or drama, like Anon did. 

“I barely did anything, while you did all the work pretty much.” Anon bitterly remarks. 

“It was a good first step. Look at the grass, see how neat it is? The people of this church will look upon your work and think, how beautiful it all looks in conjunction with each other.” 

“It’s just grass.” 

“I-well, yes, but it’s a first impression, to show that we value everything here, to the walls of the house of the Lord, to the foundation, and to the earth itself.” 

“Is this supposed to be some sort of lesson you teach me like Karate Kid or something?” 

Joshua rolls his mouth. “Not at the start, first impressions are important, but more than that, I want you not to feel so bad, the first step may be small, but that does not lessen its value.”  

“Feels like my first step was more of a face plant.” 

“Maybe, but do you plan on lying on the floor, with your face in the dirt?” 

“…no.” 

“I didn’t catch that, say it louder.” 

“No.” 

Joshua smiles, the slight shift of his bandages the only proof of it. “Good. We all start somewhere, you’ll improve, I promise.” Joshua flicks out his wallet, a crisp one hundred bill between his thumb and index finger as he moves his hand to Anon. 

The bald teen blanks at it, then at Joshua. “T-This is kind of a lot for my shit work, no?” 

“I don’t think it was too bad, but if you believe you’re not worth it now, better yourself. The rewards will feel sweeter, and in turn, you will lose some of this self-doubt.” 

Anon nods as his hand gently grabs the note, a smile on his face as he turns from the note to his uncle. “Hey, this Saturday, do you wanna go to the cinema again?” 

“I look forward to it.” 

Despite the ache, the awkwardness that lingered between the two of them, he smiles. “Cool.” 

The soft caress of the wind cools Anon, like a gentle fan blowing in his direction. The smell of cut grass and morning dew, the tweets and hums of birds as they mix into a beautiful cacophony, the bald teen hums, drinking in the touch, the scene, and the melody before him. 

A nun comes along, her clothing clean and meticulous. Her pretty face was marred by clear worry. “Joshua, there’s an issue with the pipes in the kitchen. Can you please see if you can fix it? We’re worried it may flood the main hall.”  

“Of course, Sister Maya.” Joshua shoots right up. He grabs the scythe held by Anon,  “Stay and rest here, Anon. I will take you home afterwards.”   

“Won’t hear any complaints from me.” Anon mutters out, too drained to even attempt standing from the oh so comfy bench. He watches as Joshua and the nun go off, leaving Anon by himself, with only nature and the work he performed to accompany him. It wasn’t perfect in any sense, he could admit it, but it looked better than he was expecting. 

Eventually, families begin to pour in. A multi-coloured mob of differing saurians. He could count the number of non-saurians on one hand; that number became nonexistent if he considered humans alone. They all meld into a hazy fog of snouts and beaks, Anon unable to pick out anyone of extreme interest to him. 

Well, except for Naser, he could see the Ptero’s tangerine eyes dart around, unable to find someone in particular. His eyes fall to the floor as he steps into the church with his parents. 

Anon’s brows quirk at that before he shrugs and returns to appreciating the landscape before, the cared-for church grounds. 

So pretty. 

His soft hand snakes through his pockets, mobile phone at the ready for him to shitpost and bait socially inept autists over the internet to take his mind off his aching body that he’s fairly certain is developing arthritis at the big age of 18. 

“Hey, dweeb.” 

Anon’s phone flies out of his hand as he lets out a yelp like a pubescent girl. The phone flips a few times in the air. The resounding impact when the phone hits the floor makes his heart drop.  

He turns to Fang, their lips slightly lifted as they grimace at the face-down phone. Anon slowly reaches out for his phone. He takes a deep breath when he grabs it and, with trepidation, spins it over. 

No cracks, except for those already present. 

“Oh, thank god.” Anon sighs in relief, collapsing on the bench. 

“Got lucky, there.” Fang said as they sat next to Anon. He frowns at the Ptero, who gives a cheeky smile. “Sorry, my bad, should have guessed you startle so easily.”  

Anon rolls his eyes. His heart still thumping, he couldn’t tell if it was because he was still recovering from the scare or the fact that he and Fang were almost touching legs. He lets out a cough as he stuffs his phone into his pocket. “What are you even doing here?” 

“Sunday church, genius, what else?” 

“I meant like out here, smartass.” 

Fang’s face softens for a moment. “Don’t like going in there. Too stuffy and full of assholes. Where’s Joshua?” 

“Had to fix some like, leaking pipes in the kitchen, they were worried about it flooding the main hall.” 

Fang barks out a laugh, dark amusement. “Shit, maybe I should have gone in, I would have loved to see that unfold.” 

“You think all the water would turn to wine?” 

Fang lets out a short laugh. “Walking on holy puddles, the second coming of Christ is little disappointing, not gonna lie.” The duo let out giggles, the stupid jokes softened the atmosphere with a sense of levity and calm. “What are you even doing here? You didn’t scream religious to me, and given you’re out here. I’m guessing Joshua isn’t forcing you to go to church.” 

“Well, more bribed than forced. He didn’t want me rotting inside on a Sunday, offered me money to do some yard work with him, I figured, fuck it, can’t be that hard.” Anon lowers down, his hand on his nape. “Couldn’t have been any more wrong. Too damn hot, and there’s no real shade when you’re cutting the grass, god it’s tiring too.” 

“Dude, how is cutting the grass that tiring, I get that humans are weak as shit, but like come on, all you got to do is push the mower and shift it when you want to turn.” 

The sides of Anon’s lips droop as he glares at Fang. “It wasn’t with a lawnmower, genius . Joshua, in his own words, said that he: ‘Doesn’t like how easy lawnmowers make it.’ Had to swing a scythe around like I was a fucking medieval peasant.” 

The Ptero, however, lets out a laugh at Anon’s suffering. “Damn, talk about old-school. Well, hard work would do you some good, wimp.” 

“Yeah, that’s true, after all, I got a hundred bucks for coming to church, how about you?” Anon said, a mocking smirk on his face. 

“A hundred is nothing, dweeb.”     

“Yeah, but I got paid to come here, you didn’t, loser.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Takes one to know one.” 

Families once more begin their way out of the church, the dino next to Anon kisses their teeth in annoyance as they spot their family. “Shit, already? Whatever, see you in science class, dweeb.” 

“See you, Rockstar.” Anon replied, the nickname just came to mind instantly, he felt a slight bit of trepidation, his mind overthinking if the nickname was fine, but Fang’s subsequent chuckle alleviates that worry. 

“Dweeb.” 

Fang walks to the Aaron family, and he receives differing looks. One was of appreciation from Naser, the other was undoubtedly the father of the monochrome siblings. The grizzled man’s gaze burns into him, looking him up and down. Anon couldn’t help the worried gulp as the man glare digs into him nearly the entire time on his way out, until he’s smacked by the much smaller ptero woman by his side. 

Anon lets out a sigh of relief. He could just chill and relax here.

His phone vibrates, however, shattering that thought. 

{Joshua Graham: Come to the kitchen, I require your assistance with the final parts of the repair.} 

Anon groans out, but stands, his march toward the church languid. ‘Onward, to serve thine Lord for thy shillings.’ Despite his words, Anon wouldn’t complain, for a hundred dollars, he would do more labour, and he didn’t want to risk pissing off his uncle.