#but i'm always adding to it and i plan to post both chapters at once

[mermaidandthedrunks]

if saints and angels spoke of love is a masterpiece. can we get a tiny little glimpse at what’s coming up next? please🥺😣 only if you are able to! I think we’d all wait forever for this fic tbh

Beatrice took a long drink of water. The cold liquid soothed her roiling stomach. In a soft voice, she said, “She left.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“She left me,” Beatrice repeated, “Because of me.

“I think it was more complicated than that. I think when you’re not absolutely hammered, you think that too.” Mary gave her a long look. “What kind of nun goes to a gay bar?”

“One who might not be a nun for much longer?” The words didn’t sound as terrible as Beatrice feared they might. Especially not when Mary chuckled. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing, just…you ever watch The Sound of Music?”

Beatrice shook her head.

"Of course you haven't." Mary's smile was surprisingly fond.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 3 Part 3

Again the winner of last week's poll! There won't be a poll this week because I'm planning something a bit different. I hit 1000 followers this past week and have been wracking my brain about how to celebrate! Wasn't up for doing prompts or adding more projects to my list, though, so I didn't want to go that route.

But I did come up with something that I think everyone will really enjoy. Especially those of you who have been voting for Carry Your Heart (I see you in the tags!). So look out for that post.

In addition, I've just posted the first chapter of Arc 2 on AO3! Link below.

Story Summary: Jack and Maddie install a new ghost shield on the house which activates the moment Danny tries to step into his home. His secret is out and his parents are determined to excise the ghost from their son.

Luckily Danny isn't alone. The Young Justice, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz aren't going to leave him to suffer.

Arc 1: AO3

Arc 2: AO3 (incomplete); Tumblr - First, Final

Arc 3: First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

-----

Fire rushing through him jolted Danny awake. His back arched as he cried out. He screwed his eyes tight, not wanting to see what torture his parents were going to come at him with next when he realized what the sound of his cry meant: the muzzle was gone.

As were the restraints. And he was lying on something soft. Trying hard not to hope, he opened his eyes.

Sam and Jazz were leaning over him, concern clear on their faces. They were in some sort of ambulance or van.

“How are you feeling,” demanded Sam.

Danny took a moment to answer, his chest was pure agony. He didn’t even want to think what it would feel like to sit up. And even past that, everything was sore. Though the fire that had woken him up had dissipated, the tell-tale feel of ecto-dejecto. “Pretty much the worst I’ve ever felt,” he answered honestly.

Sam and Jazz both winced and his sister grabbed his hand. He squeezed her fingers weakly.

At the foot of his bed stood Tim in full Red Robin getup and Kon as Superboy.

He couldn’t hold back the smile as he met Tim’s gaze. “You came,” he said.

Tim didn’t smile back, but some tension eased out of his shoulders. “I always will,” he said. “Been telling you that since we were ten years old.”

“I know. I’ve always known. Thank you.”

Jazz squeezed his hand again and he looked at her. “Red Robin and Superboy are going to take you away from here. Robin will help you recover.”

Sam nodded. “Yep. And the rest of us are gonna focus on making sure Amity is safe for ghosts once and for all.”

Danny shook his head. “I should be there with you guys, fighting.”

“Nope!” interrupted Jazz. “Not even a little. You’re going to focus on getting better, got it, Danny? That’s all we want from you.”

“But the ghosts—”

Sam covered his mouth with her hand. “Stop it right there. Tucker is working with Impulse and Wonder Girl to get the portal locked up. No one will be coming through. No one—ghost or human—will be in any danger while you’re gone. I promise.”

Danny slumped into the bed. Even the slight change in position caused waves of pain to radiate from his chest even through the healing ice he could feel implanted in his body. He whimpered and closed his eyes until the throbbing receded just a bit. “I trust you. I do, it’s just…”

“You’re used to taking care of everyone,” finished Jazz for him. “We know. So let us take care of you for a change. We love you, Danny.”

“Love you, too, Jazz. Sam.”

“Be good for bird-brain there, got it?” ordered Sam.

Danny gave her a half-smile. “Are Tim and I ever good together?”

She laughed. “Well, don’t burn down Gotham, capiche?”

“Capiche.”

“We have to go now,” said Jazz.

Danny gripped her hand tighter. “Don’t leave me.”

Jazz winced, but leaned down to kiss his forehead. “We need to make sure the Guys in White aren’t going to get involved further. And you need to get someplace safe.”

Danny huffed a half laugh. “Gotham is safe?”

Jazz rolled her eyes at his poor attempt at a joke. “For you it is. Now, I’m leaving Red and Superboy with a case full of ectoplasm for you and our entire supply of ecto-dejecto. I just gave you your first injection. Please try and eat something and drink your ectoplasm regularly.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Jazz.”

Jazz sniffed and it was only then that Danny realized it was wetter than usual and her eyes were watery. He tried not to feel bad for his jokes when she replied, “Yes, it is whatever I say. Glad you agree.”

Sam cackled, and now that he was paying attention, Danny could hear the hysterical edge to it. “You’d better text us multiple times a day, ghost boy. Don’t try and lie to us, either. Kon’ll tell me the truth about your condition. And as soon as we can arrange it, we’re coming out your way for a visit.”

“Course I will, Sam. Give Tuck my best?”

“Duh. He wishes he could’ve come with us, you know.”

Danny nodded. “But he’s better with the tech stuff and that is just as time sensitive.”

“Yeah. Now, get some sleep,” Sam ordered. “You’ve got a long drive ahead of you.”

Danny gave the rote answer after too many all-nighters taking care of ghost attacks before school, “I’m dead, I don’t need sleep.”

His sister squeezed his hand. “Ghosts who just went through what you did need their sleep. Love you, Danny. Get well and I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you, Jazz.”

She kissed his forehead one more time, followed by Sam. And with another two rounds of farewells and love yous, he was alone with Tim and Kon.

“Thanks for coming,” he said again.

“Obviously we weren’t going to leave you there,” said Kon. “Being a lab subject isn’t fun. Especially not that kinda lab experiment.”

Danny couldn’t quite hold back the flinch at that description. It was accurate, but blunt.

Tim walked over until he was sitting by Danny’s bed. “Just listen to Jazz and get some rest. We’re going to be taking the long route to Gotham by going south to start. If we stop for food in a few hours, think you could handle a smoothie?”

Danny shrugged and bit back a yawn. “Could try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Kon moved towards the front of the vehicle as well. “Looks like it’s time for us to skedaddle. I’ll keep the road from jostling you, ghost-boy.”

Danny gave a small smile and let his eyes close. As he did, he tried to mumble his thanks and he hoped it came across.

---

The next time he woke was more gentle. Someone was tapping on his shoulder and calling his name. But even so, as he was pulled closer to awareness, the pain made itself more and more known. He tried to cling to the darkness, but the tapping wasn’t stopping, nor was the person calling him.

He blinked open his eyes to see Tim’s concerned face. He wasn’t wearing the domino anymore, or his costume. Just a sweatshirt and jeans.

“Hey, Danny,” said Tim. “I’m going to need you to try and eat a bit right now. Kon got us those smoothies I mentioned. I’ve also got yogurt if that’ll be easier for you. But the smoothie will have more nutrients.”

Danny closed his eyes. He wasn’t hungry and didn’t want to eat. Why did Tim have to bring him back to consciousness for this? He hurt and just wanted to sink back into oblivion.

The tapping on his shoulder began again. “I know, Danny. But you have to eat something. And you should take some ectoplasm, too. So just stay awake for a few minutes.”

“Mm ‘wake,” said Danny without opening his eyes. He shifted his weight, hoping to push himself up to eat, only to scream in pain as his chest protested any movement.

“Shit! Don’t move,” said Tim too late. “I’ve got a spoon here. I’ll feed it to you, okay? So just stay exactly where you are.”

Danny gripped his sheets, unable to do anything else as wave after wave of pain over took him. Tim kept up a litany of reassurances and stroked his hair. Eventually, Danny was able to think past it again.

“Don’t think I can sit up,” said Danny.

“Of course not,” agreed Tim. He held a styrofoam cup between his knees and carefully took off the lid and straw. “Just let me. Take at least a few bites. Swallow as is, don’t try and chew. Just do what you can, okay?”

“Okay,” agreed Danny and Tim fed him the first bite.

Danny hated this. Hated it so much. Here he was being spoon fed like a baby all because his parents… He shut his eyes and took the next bite. He wasn’t going to finish that thought. Tim was here and that’s what mattered.

Danny wasn’t sure how much he ate, but it couldn’t have been much. His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier and the pull of oblivion stronger.

“Wait, Danny. Stay awake just a little longer, okay?”

Danny groaned but forced his eyes open again.

Tim showed him a bottle of ectoplasm. “Just a few swallows of this, too. Okay?”

He didn’t want to. He’d rather just go to sleep again, but he opened his mouth obediently. By the time he finished his third spoonful, he couldn’t fight it anymore and slumped into the bed. The pain receded back into blackness for a time.

-----

Next

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Danny is going to be getting all the comfort throughout this. All of them will, tbh. Because no one is happy and they all need a hug or five.

Let me know what you think!

[mintmoth]

Your oc's are so cool!! It's such a surreal feeling to get back into a fandom and wake up up find that one of my favorite artists is also there. Say, quick question do you plan on making executions for your oc's or do they survive? Well whatever you do I hope you'll have fun with it and as always remember to be well hydrated and take breaks, I hope your doing well mint.

BXDISBSK OH HELLA!! Also thank you 😭😭 I'm glad you're enjoying my silly dr2 art and my oc planning lmao

Honestly I was originally planning on having only 2 ocs specifically because I wanted one to kill the other in order to maintain the same group of survivors in the end lmao. I'm still trying to fully work out the setup and inevitable execution because the plot writing for dr2 is really tight and well progressed imo, so I feel like adding anything would weaken it-

BUT I'm also just having fun and being silly so I know it doesn't have to be perfect it just needs to let me have fun really lmao

I'll add a readmore but I'll ramble about each of them a little if anyone has any interest

First up is the first one I made, Haruka (forgive all of their basic bitch Japanese names, I can't do the fun wordplay to the level I wish) they're the ultimate ballerina, and by extension also nonbinary kind of feminine leaning androgynous but can be masc if needed because they can do any kind of role required of them for a performance

When they're tossed into the dr2 mix they'd probably be found being a third wheel to the dynamic duo that is Akane and Nekomaru, since they're also technically more athletic and would be stretching and practicing every day. I want to sit down sometime and draw them and Akane engaged in a flexibility battle and Kazuichi walking in on them and screeching because they look so creepy

Haruka is planned to be a murderer and I'll definitely get some drawings out once I flesh out my concepts for their execution more

Next up is Nao! She's the ultimate sharpshooter and yes that is a little vague but it's because this includes bows and such on top of typical guns. Hell, she probably even does well with throwing stuff if there's enough focus

With the dr2 cast she'd be mostly a friend to Ibuki and Kazuichi, their eccentricities are endearing to her, plus if either of them just want to ramble about something they're working on she's gonna listen for hours. Honestly they're such a movie night squad to me. Also post game I feel like she's like a girl in the same way I still see Kazuichi a guy, like in the vaguest terms cuz they're both just Themselves and are gonna have fun with it now since they're apart from society. Ibuki isn't included only since I feel like she'd struggle less, but this is the bi/pan gender fuckery trifecta of the group to me

Oh yeah and Haruka kills her. I've got the death already planned out and ideally I wanna do a cg style emulation for it but idk if I can swing it lmao I'm not very good at style emulation tbh

And last but not least is Tōru. I didn't plan on her existing so idk how I'm gonna get rid of her in time for the end hmm. But she's the ultimate tattoo artist and has the most fleshed out backstory of the three but it's embarrassing and I know it LMAO

Basic run down- and stick with me here- she lives with family that work under the Kuzuryu clan, so she's done a lot of sick yakuza tats, partially because of her skill and mostly because this shit is so good that her tattoos have like, an "aura" that influences the viewer a little. So these dudes have extra intimidating tattoo bullshit going on- BUT ANYWAYS so things start and she can recognize Fuyuhiko and Peko and knows what's up with them, but neither of them have officially met her so she's like "oh thank fuck they have no idea that I know who they are I'm gonna avoid these assholes like the PLAGUE"

But of course that won't hold forever but it just makes me laugh like chapter 3 Fuyuhiko trying desperately to be kinder to everyone like "yeah, maybe I'll see if you're good enough to tattoo me some day" and she's choking on her drink because Haha About That-

But yeah hopefully I can rope one of my friends into having their oc knock her off because I think that would be funny like, getting down on one knee please kill my oc tragically

[mimisempai]

You are the wind beneath my wings 1/?

Summary

Aziraphale, angel scrivener, is always late.  His reason: the archangel Jophiel, star maker and architect of heaven, who fascinates him.

One day, Jophiel cries out for help, and Aziraphale doesn't hesitate for a moment before veering off course to lend a hand.

Little does he know that this decision will change his life and forever link his destiny to that of Jophiel.

For better but also for worse. 

Notes

I'd had this project in mind for months, but hadn't really got round to it because I didn't feel skilled enough. But encouraged by my beloved and a few friends, here I am.

The plan and outline are complete, and the first chapters finished.

I hope you'll enjoy it!

On Ao3

Rating G -  3161 words

Master post for this story here

"Damn, I'm going to be lectured again, it took me too long once more..." 

Aziraphale looked back one last time and accelerated through the black webs. He would have a hard time explaining the reason for his frequent lateness.

How to explain that the reason...

"Excuse me." 

... had just called him?!

"Oi!"

Aziraphale didn't think twice and turned to the person who had just called him, and in less time than it took him to say it, he was standing in front of him.

Smiling, Aziraphale immediately said, "Yeah? Was that you?"

Idiot, of course it was. 

You know he's the only one there.

Archangel Jophiel, Star Maker and Architect of Heaven.

The reason for Aziraphale's frequent lateness in carrying out his assigned tasks. One of the many higher-ranking angels who didn't know he existed.

The red-haired angel barely glanced at him as he replied, holding the parchment in his hands, "Oh, hi, yeah. Uh, look, if you don't mind, could you hold this while I crank it all up?"

Aziraphale's gaze darted back and forth between the parchment and the archangel several times as he grasped it before asking, "Um, which way up does it go?"

Keeping his eyes on the parchment and inserting a strange instrument into it, Jophiel replied, "Well, like this. Just hold it tight. There you go."

Then he looked up and asked, "All right, ready?"

"For what?" 

The archangel didn't answer and turned the strange instrument.

"There you go, dear."

The parchment emitted a few purple glows, then the space around them shook slightly before Jophiel stepped back and said with a smile, "Thank you, you can put it down now." 

Aziraphale, still not understanding, replied with the same smile, "Right. Is that it?" 

The red-haired angel shook his head and replied, "Oh, no. That's just priming the engine."

Then he extended his hand to the left and added, "This is the fun part," before looking around with an excited expression on his face.

"I've been waiting for this since... well, always." 

Aziraphale thought it might be time to introduce himself and began a little hesitantly, "Um. Hello. I'm Aziraphale."

Jophiel smiled politely and replied, "Nice to meet you," before leaning forward and exclaiming, "Okay, here goes."

Azirapahle took no offense, for he was used to others not paying much attention to him; after all, he was just a messenger, just a scrivener.

Jophie raised his hands and exclaimed in a loud voice, "Let there be matter, let there be gravity, let there be everything from pages 11 to 3,000,602 inclusive.

Aziraphale saw the pages of a floating book turn beside the archangel as he finished his incantation with an elegant gesture of both hands.

Only nothing happened, Aziraphale in a state of expectation, wondering what would come next, then not holding out any longer, he asked with curiosity, "Is something supposed to happen?"

Jophiel was slightly surprised at first, before exclaiming, "Oh, right, sorry, yes, yes.

Then, in an apologetic tone, he continued, "I knew I'd missed one."

They both laughed lightly, then Jophiel took on a serious air, raised his hand solemnly, and lowered it gracefully, saying softly, "Let there be light."

Immediately in front of Aziraphale's eyes there was an explosion of light and color, the black webs of space around the two of them colored in reds and blues and yellows, overwhelming Aziraphale with their beauty. He didn't know what it was, but it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  

He immediately understood why the angel beside him was an archangel and he was only a scrivener; he'd never be able to squeeze such beauty from his fingertips.

All Aziraphale could do was exclaim, "Oh, good Lord!"

Although, deep down, he knew at that moment that God had nothing to do with it. It was indeed the hands of the angel at his side that had generated this explosion of light.

But as magnificent as the stars and shimmering lights were, it was this angel who caught his attention even more than the display of color in front of him. Jophiel radiated a joy even brighter than his creations, and Aziraphale found himself drawn to that light far more than he would have liked.

"Look at you, you're gorgeous."

The archangel's exclamation snapped him out of his thoughts and Aziraphale turned to him with a smile, thinking he was talking to him, but he saw that Jophiel's attention was still on the stars. Aziraphale couldn't help but feel a small pang of disappointment which he quickly pushed it aside.

After all, it was really silly of him to think that Jophiel could talk to him, and after a few seconds, when everything had calmed down a bit, Aziraphale asked, "You made it all yourself?"

Jophiel replied, waving his hands a little, "Ah, well, I mean, more or less.

I wasn't... I wasn't, um... I wasn't the original concept designer, but I worked very closely with upstairs on it." 

He may not have been the designer, but it was still all his work, and Aziraphale couldn't help but compliment him, "Well, it's very pretty."

Jophiel, a happy smile on his lips, replied, "Oh, thank you."

"And I think you've done an excellent job. "

Jophiel, visibly embarrassed, laughed slightly and Aziraphale joined in before asking, "So, what's it for?"

"How do you mean?" 

Aziraphale pointed to the space around them and explained, "Well, what exactly does it all do?" 

Jophiel's face came alive as he explained, "Oh, right. Well what doesn't this beauty do? Basically, it's a star factory. All the dust and gas you can see, it's actually building about, young stars and protoplanets. Most of the universe of stars will come pre-aged, but these ones are only starting out. 

A few million years to bake, and then boom, stars everywhere!" 

As he began to laugh, Aziraphale realized something that dampened the joy he felt.

Could it be that the other angel didn't know?

"Oh, that's nice."

He looked serious again as he said in a slightly hesitant voice, "You know, the current word from upstairs is that we'll be shutting this all down again in about, uh, years." 

"But that's nothing!" 

Aziraphale hadn't expected to see such despair on the face of the archangel, who had looked so cheerful just before, and immediately blamed it on himself.

"Oh. What's the point in creating an infinite universe with trillions of star systems if you're only gonna let it run for a few thousand years? The engine won't have properly warmed up by then."

Aziraphale, wanting to see the smile and joy on Jophiel's face again, tried to reassure him by explaining, "Ah, the point. Ah, well, you've heard of Earth?" 

Jophiel frowned and replied, "Yeah, not as such."

Aziraphale continued, "Ah. Blue-green planet. It'll be over there somewhere

when they roll out that quadrant. Now that's where the people that we're currently designing are going to be. I've seen the plans. We're going to start out with a breeding pair, and then pretty soon there'll be oodles of them. They'll breed like um... Well, they'll breed like people. The impression I get is that the stars and your um..."

He pauses, not knowing what to call the creations of the archangel who came to his aid and said, "Uh, call it a nebula."

"Right. Well, they exist just so that the people can look up into the night sky and marvel at the illimitable vastness of The Almighty's creation."

At that moment, as he said these words as if reciting a lesson, he realized that there was something strange he couldn't quite put his finger on. But he couldn't think any further because Jophiel exclaimed, "But that's idiocy! It's the universe, it's not just some fancy wallpaper! Millions of galaxies, trillions of stars, oodles of... everything! It's not just put here to twinkle! Most of it won't even be visible from Earth. Why don't you put Earth in the middle of the universe so the view's better?" 

While Aziraphale understood the archangel's point, he felt obligated to be the voice of reason. As a scrivener, he'd heard things. Angels in his position were always somewhat ignored, considered nothing more than paper pushers, but that didn't stop him from seeing so many documents, and being an avid reader, he made a point of reading them, even though Gabriel had warned him several times, telling him it wasn't his job.

He said to Jophiel as gently as he could, "It's not our job to advise The Almighty on the details of creation." 

Jophiel looked at him like he was an idiot and replied, "Well, then whose job is it? I mean, someone has to say, 'Look, boss, this is a really, really terrible idea.'" 

Aziraphale realized that maybe he should never have told Jophiel the truth about what was going to happen, and tried again to talk some sense into him. 

"Well, I suspect that would be considered inappropriate." 

But Jophiel objected, "Well, I don't suppose anyone could object to me putting a note into the suggestion box." 

Oh no, he shouldn't.

Aziraphale had seen things.

Things that happened to angels who asked too many questions.

They always disappeared, and when they came back, these angels were like newborn. As if they had all forgotten. Aziraphale didn't want that to happen to Jophiel.

He insisted urgently, "I don't believe The Almighty has actually created a suggestion box. And besides, I don't think it's our place to suggest that there should be a suggestion box."

Jophiel shrugged, "Well, if I was the one running it all, I'd like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view."

Increasingly worried that someone might hear them, Aziraphale turned his head and looked around as the archangel continued, "You can't just create a universe, run it for a few thousand years, and then stop."

Aziraphale tried again to dissuade him by diverting his attention, and exclaimed with false joy, "I like the pinky-blue bit in the corner of the, the nebula. Yes, it's very um, ah!" 

Then, looking serious again, he couldn't hold back and said a little more quietly, "Um, but look, word to the wise, I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble."

Jophiel, a little calmer but still looking a touch sad, said gently, as if to reassure him, "Mm, thanks for your help. And thanks for your advice. I wouldn't worry though. How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

Aziraphale was about to reply when a shower of stars began to fall upon them, and Jophiel immediately spread his white wings over Aziraphale's head to protect him.

They stood there in silence for a few moments, and Aziraphale basked in the sense of closeness he was experiencing for the first time, when he suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, good Lord! The scrolls! I had to get those scrolls to Michael! I'm going to be late! Again! Well, uh... Jophiel. I, uh... thank you for this. I'm glad I was the first to witness your beautiful creation."

He pointed to the colorful sky around them, and Jophiel looked at him earnestly, as if for the first time, before saying softly, "Thank you for helping."

Aziraphale nodded and was about to leave when he couldn't resist: "Please don't do anything rash.

Jophiel looked at him in silence for a few seconds before nodding and saying, "I will. And Aziraphale?"

"Hm?"

"Don't hesitate to come back and see me."

He gave a small, amused smile before continuing, "I could use some help."

Aziraphale couldn't hold back a smile before turning and leaving as quickly as he had appeared.

**********

"That's why you will remain a scrivener for the rest of your life!"

Aziraphale did what he always did in such situations. He withdrew into his mind and let the admonition pass while he thought back on the moments he'd spent with Jophiel. 

Probably, no, in fact, undoubtedly the happiest moments of his life as far back as he could remember.

So he didn't wait long to return to the place where the Starmaker, as he secretly called him, resided.

But despite the archangel's invitation, he didn't approach him, and watched from a distance. Each day, Aziraphale hid behind the remaining black webs and watched in awe as Jophiel created and perfected his work. His wonder was heightened by the fact that Jophiel continued even though he now knew that his creations were destined to die. 

Aziraphale couldn't help but feel sad at the thought, realizing that it was an emotion he had never felt so deeply before. Like everything else about Jophiel, if he was honest with himself.

The other angel awakened new emotions in Aziraphale that he had never felt before, and the angel found himself drawn to the Star Maker, fascinated by the passion he poured into his creation. Mesmerized by the joy the other angel radiated.

It was the first time Aziraphale had ever met an angel like him. 

It was the first angel of higher rank who didn't belittle him and put him in his place.

If Aziraphale dared, he'd say Jophiel treated him as an equal.

Just as Jophiel's stars had suddenly illuminated the dark sky, the red-haired angel had shed a new light on Aziraphale's existence.

Aware that he had been the one to slightly tarnish that light by announcing the limited lifespan of his creations, Aziraphale no longer dared to approach him, contenting himself with watching the other angel from a distance.

He could see him twirling, giving birth to stars at his fingertips or conversing with them, always moving with grace, his red hair following his dance, just like at this moment.

"Aziraphale."

The call of his name startled him as the red-haired angel turned to him and continued, "I know you're watching me. You don't need to hide."

Aziraphale stepped shyly into the light and asked, "Do you mind if I watch you?"

Jophiel shook his head and replied with a half smile, "I seem to remember telling you you could come back. You could come closer, you know?"

So Aziraphale stepped forward until he was beside him, just as on the first day they met, and Jophiel, as if he weren't there, continued to watch his stars, moving his arms in an elegant choreography. Suddenly he stopped, reached out his hand, and Aziraphale saw a faint ball of light arrive and land on Jophiel's outstretched hand. 

The archangel closed his hand, then turned his closed fist toward Aziraphale and gently opened it.

Jophiel said gently, "You see, this little star, it's shining too dimly and it needs a helping hand. Will you help me give it the shine it deserves?"

Aziraphale hesitated at first and said modestly, "I don't know, I'm just a scrivener and-"

Jophiel shook his head and replied, "Stop it, like any angel, you're capable of miracles, so you can do it. Unless, of course, you don't want to."

Aziraphale immediately replied, "Yes, yes, of course I do!"

Jophiel smiled at the angel's eagerness and gently instructed him. "Place your hand on top of it like this and give it a little bit of power, just like when you want to perform a miracle. It's as simple as that."

Aziraphale nodded, and after Jophiel placed his hand next to his, he did as the archangel said.

Suddenly, Aziraphale felt a gentle warmth under his hands and saw a violet glow spreading out and enveloping the little star.

Puzzled, he realized that it was the same color as when Jophiel had turned the crank in the parchment.  

Jophiel said gently, "You can take your hand away now. "

Aziraphale watched in amazement as the little star now glowed with a strong, warm light and Crowley reached out his arm to toss it into the sky.

Azi couldn't help but giggle as he watched it fly away and return to its place.

"How pretty."

Not to be fooled a second time, Aziraphale didn't react to Jophiel's words and continued to look at the star they had just 'healed'.

"I'm talking about you, Aziraphale"

Aziraphale turned sharply to the archangel and replied with a pout, "Ha ha, very funny."

But Jophiel looked serious as he replied, "I'm not joking. You looked pretty right now."

Aziraphale shook his head, "You don't have to flatter me to get me to help you."

Jophiel turned his full attention to him and asked quietly, "Don't tell me this is the first time you've been complimented." 

Aziraphale replied self-deprecatingly, "Not for anything I have done, and certainly not for how I look."

Jophiel shook his head and continued, "I've always said that higher-ranking angels should have much more appreciation and respect for the lower ranks."

"Uh... I..."

Jophiel placed a gentle hand on his arm and added, "Did you see the color of the magic when I turned the crank, when you held the parchment, and when we healed the little star together?"

Aziraphale nodded, for yes, he had noticed.

"I'll tell you a secret. My magic never had that color before those two times. And do you know what they have in common?"

Aziraphale shook his head.

Jophiel replied softly, "It was you."

"Me? But..."

Jophiel raised his hand, palm facing Aziraphale, and said gently, "Put your hand on mine."

Aziraphale, a little hesitant, raised his hand in return and placed his hand on Crowley's.

Immediately, the same gentle warmth as when they healed the star washed over him, and most importantly, both hands were surrounded by the same violet glow.

They stood there in silence for a few moments, palm against palm, watching the purple glow swirl around their hands. 

Aziraphale looked up at Jophiel, and Jophiel smiled warmly at him as he said, "You see? Only with you."

Aziraphale couldn't look away from the archangel's shining eyes, and a new, unknown emotion ran through him.

He knew nothing about it, except that the archangel before him was responsible, and most importantly, that he had never felt such bliss as he did at that moment.

*********

"Your Reverence, forgive me for disturbing you, but I feel it's important to share some information with you that could cause a problem. "

The Metatron motioned for Archangel Gabriel to sit across from him.

"I am listening, supreme archangel Gabriel."

Once seated, the archangel leaned forward and said: "There may be a case of fraternization between the archangel Jophiel and the scrivener Aziraphale. Some have spoken of a strange increase in power and..."

"What?!"

"I have no proof, and these are only rumors, but..."

Metatron stood up abruptly and said, "Very well, we'll wait and see. Keep me informed of what you hear. You may leave now."

Gabriel rose, bowed slightly, and left Metatron's office. 

As Gabriel left, Metatron muttered, "Nothing and no one can thwart my plans. Not even a little scrivener and a star maker."

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

[writingforstraykids]

Addicted to you Chp.20

Pairing: Minchan (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 5443

Summary: Back in public Minho tries to build up the courage to open up about what really happened without revealing too much. His friends support him every step of the way, hearing some things for the first time as well. Chan has to decide how open he really wants to be and walks the fine line of supporting his boyfriend and keeping their relationship a secret. Especially after Minho's first performance doesn't go as planned.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, panic attack, mention of throwing up, dizziness, anxious!min, protective!chan

A/N: Looking back at this series, this is by far one of my most cherished chapters. Not only has the group learned to stick together when one of them isn't exactly stable, but also Chan and Minho finally pull at the same string. I love how the growth in both of them has been visible for you guys and I do hope this chapter proves it once more. We're almost at the end, which makes me a little nostaglic because chapter one was one of my first posts back in October (we haven't missed a week🤭). I hope you enjoy it, I'll see you next week for the last one (sobbing)🖤

Chp.19| Chp. 21

All I know is you saved me and you know it Saved me and you know it Always thought I was hard to love ' Til you made it seem so easy Easy ~ Camila Cabello

During dinner, Chan's hand kept slipping beneath the table, resting on Minho's thigh or grabbing his hand. Now that he knew, he wondered how he hadn't realized Felix and Changbin were acting the same way he and Minho had been. The secret glances, hands brushing against each other in passing, the soft smiles they shared when no one was watching. Jisung suddenly got everyone's attention. "As we all know, we have two couples amongst our group," he announced, quiet enough only for them to hear. "The funniest part about it is Chan and Changbin thinking they've been discreet, whilst Minho and Felix knew damn well the opposite is the case." 

Seungmin blinked at Chan. "You thought what? You've been drooling over Minho since we debuted." 

"Don't even start," their leader sighed heavily and hung his head, not noticing Minho's surprised glance. 

“As you all know, the rest of us have our own thing going on,” Jisung added.

"See? No reason to panic about telling the kids," Minho told Chan kindly and patted his back. "We're all grownups here." 

"Are we, though?" Felix giggled. 

"Now that we all know, no one has to sneak around the house anymore to be with one another," Seungmin concluded Jisung's announcement. 

"Amen," Felix agreed. 

"Fuck me. The house is gonna turn into a mess," Chan sighed and buried his face in his hands. 

"You think you're the only one allowed to have fun?" Jeongin asked sassily. He received a warning glare from his leader. “Also, what makes you think it wasn’t a mess before you knew?”

"I could use a drink," Minho announced cheerfully and waved over a waiter. "Anyone else? I'm paying." 

Chan chuckled softly and agreed. He could use one himself. Once everyone seemed to busy themselves with side conversations, Chan leaned a little closer to Minho. "You're so pretty, it's unreal," he whispered in his ear. Minho blushed softly. 

"Stop it," he chuckled. 

"I mean it. I've never seen someone as beautiful as you," he confessed and watched him bite his lower lip. Right, praises were something he had a thing for. "My beautiful kitten." 

Minho gasped softly, his pupils widening at the pet name. "Channie, stop," he whispered lovingly. "Not here." 

"Why not?" he asked, smirking softly. 

“You know damn well why not,” he rolled his eyes fondly.

-

Minho stared at his plate, pushing its contents from left to right for the thousandth time. He was feeling incredibly sick because he was so nervous about their press conference in a few hours. 

"Minho hyung? Aren't you hungry?" Jisung asked gently. Minho snapped out of his thoughts. 

He realized all of them were staring at him and smiled weakly, pushing his plate away. "I'm too anxious right now," he admitted as he reached for his water. But as he brought it closer to his lips, his grip around his glass got tighter as he noticed his hand trembling. 

"Can we do anything to help?" Felix spoke up next to him softly. 

"I don't think so," he shook his head and chewed on his lower lip. "I guess now that it's time, I'm scared there'll be consequences for you guys. It’s not exactly a great way to kick off promotions." 

"Whatever it is, we'll stand behind you, Min," Chan assured him. 

Minho met his eyes across the table and smiled weakly. "Are you saying this as my boyfriend or the leader of this group?" 

"Minho," Chan said softly.

"You should put the group first today, Chan. We both know that," he told him kindly. Chan lowered his gaze at the table for a moment. "I'm not afraid of the consequences because I know if I keep going like this, it'll end much worse for me,” he told them and rubbed his face tiredly. “I just don’t want you all to suffer from the news.” 

"They either get all eight of us or none of us," Changbin spoke up. 

"I'm sick of people trying to separate us," Hyunjin agreed. 

"We have your back, Minho hyung. There's nothing they can do about that," Seungmin agreed. 

"Fuck them all," Jeongin concluded with a grin. 

"Even if we didn’t worry about the consequences, Chan doesn't function without you..as we all saw repeatedly," Jisung commented dryly. 

“Thanks, Hannie,” Chan gently rolled his eyes.

Minho chuckled softly at all of them and rolled his eyes playfully. "When you put it that way, what's there to worry about." 

Felix smiled and looked at him. "Can we give you a hug?" 

"Fine," he sighed softly, secretly longing for nothing else than some physical comfort right now. He got up, and all of them gathered around him in a big group hug. Minho smiled softly and buried his face in Chan's chest as the warmth of his members finally gave him some comfort. "I love you guys," he told them after a moment. "I'm sorry for all that shit I'm putting you through currently." 

"Stop it, Minho hyung. We all have rough moments being in this industry," Changbin comforted him. 

"That's why there are seven others who have our back at all times," Hyunjin agreed. 

Once they reached their destination and had to enter the room where they'd be interviewed, Minho felt nauseous all over again. The staff would possibly kill him, or maybe he'd just get in serious trouble. Their names were announced, and they all left his side one by one, taking their places. Minho's stomach turned once more as he saw his place. Changbin, Hyunjin, Chan, Seungmin, and Jeongin were sitting on higher chairs in the back in that order. Felix was in the front row on the left, Jisung on the right, and the place in their midst was empty. They weren’t joking when they said they'd always be around him, protecting him. Minho's stage name was announced and he gave himself a mental push before walking out on stage, putting on a perfectly convincing, practiced smile. He sat down and nervously adjusted his suit jacket. 

They started out easy with some general questions about their next comeback, upcoming concerts, and already published songs. Minho didn't have to talk much and was able to fool around with the boys a little. He carefully adjusted his glasses as an interviewer called his name. 

"You've been on a break recently after collapsing on stage. Our readers are wondering what you think about said event and how you plan to continue?" she asked, looking at him expectantly. 

"As my team has already explained, I was injured and overworked at the event in question, which is why I collapsed and-," Minho stopped in his tracks, realizing this was the moment. He shouldn't just answer with the scripted version of what the staff had written up for him in case of such a question. He cleared his throat and straightened up. "Actually, I would like to make my own statement if you allow me to." 

"Please go on," she encouraged him. 

"About two months before this performance, my mental health was starting to get worse. I had trouble taking care of and trusting in myself. It got better whenever I was around my members. At some point, I defined myself through my performance only. When I got injured, I had to take a step back, which made this much harder for me. I got into a massive fight with one of the most important people in my life, which really took a toll on me," Minho said and saw some staff members in the back looking at each other nervously. "I had trouble eating, I didn't get enough sleep, and I practiced too much and too long. Because of that, my injury got worse, and I let it happen, thinking the pain I felt was the punishment I deserved for not being able to perform. I was awful to be around, and I didn’t treat the ones I call my family well, pushing them away when all they wanted was to help. I didn't have the resources to be there for them because I barely had any left for myself, which I'm very sorry for," he continued as pictures were taken of him, and he knew there were live recordings as well. 

No going back now. 

"I didn't collapse because I was injured or tired. My mental health and body couldn't keep up with what I was doing anymore. I've spent two days unconscious at the hospital, which is what made my members decide I needed to take a break. I don't regret collapsing because I wouldn't have stopped this harmful behavior otherwise and-," he stopped as his voice started shaking and swallowed hard, trying to collect himself. Suddenly, Felix took his hand and smiled at him encouragingly while Jisung rested his hand on his knee. Chan followed his heart and wrapped his arms around him from behind, ensuring he knew they were there. Minho inhaled softly and rested his hand on Chan's arm, steadying himself. "I know I’ll make myself vulnerable by saying this, but I think it's important we start normalizing that your beloved idols are humans, too. This is why I want to announce that after everything that happened, I’ve decided to see a therapist. I'm not ashamed of it, and if I want to keep being part of this family and doing my best for our fans, I need to take care of myself better," he concluded and exhaled softly.

"We want to announce that we stand behind Minho and fully support his decision. We ask our fans to show our Minho how much he means to us all and how much he is worth. Please be patient with us during this process," Chan spoke up behind him, noticing how much Minho was shaking, glancing at the staff. "Thank you so much for being here. This will be all for today." 

They all got up, making sure to surround Minho as they left the stage. Minho felt dizzy and flinched a little as suddenly two of their press advisors approached them, saying his name. They seemed ready to call him out for his shit. Chan wrapped his arm around him protectively and told them to back off, not caring that reporters were still taking pictures. Finally, they made it backstage. Chan stepped in front of him, removing his microphone for him. "Give me a moment," he mumbled as his stomach protested, quickly pushing through them and making his way to the bathroom. He ripped the door open to one of the stalls and crouched down, throwing up. All the anxiety and nervousness got to him, combined with the realization that, for the first time, he did the opposite of what he had been advised to do. Once his stomach had calmed down, Minho carefully pushed himself up and sniffled softly, trying to swallow a panic attack threatening to creep in. He pushed the door open and slowly stepped outside, flinching heavily as he saw his friends standing at the sink, all watching him worriedly. "I can't even throw up in peace?" he joked tiredly and made his way over to a sink, shakily turning on the water. He rinsed his mouth and washed his hands, thanking Hyunjin quietly, who gave him some paper towels. 

"Do you feel better after telling the truth?" Seungmin asked. 

"I'm glad it's not a secret anymore," he told them, leaning against the sink. "But besides that, no. I'm a minute away from a full-blown panic attack," he admitted, knowing there was no use hiding it. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees and inhaling shakily. "They'll kill me, won't they?" 

Jisung was the first one to react and stepped in front of him. "Deep breaths, Minho hyung. You'll be okay." He hugged him as he stood up straight again and soothingly rubbed his back. The others let them, knowing Jisung often found comfort in Minho when he was panicking, so it fit for him to try and return the favor. Jeongin grabbed a few paper towels, made them wet, and wrung them out before carefully placing them on the back of Minho's neck. Felix stepped next to them and gently ran his hand through his hair as Jisung guided Minho in his breathing. 

Once he had calmed down, Chan took over, pulling him into a tight hug and planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "I'm so proud of you. That was very brave." 

"I don't feel very brave right now," he gave back, making his friends chuckle. He barely noticed Changbin removing the paper towels from his neck and leaning his forehead against Chan's. "Let's go back to the hotel, please?" 

“We could stay in for the night and order takeout,” Jeongin proposed. “We’ll just meet up in one room and order there.” 

Minho smiled thankfully and nodded. “That would be nice.” 

-

"May we ask what sent you down the spiral of mental issues?" their interviewer spoke up, clearly talking to Minho. They were currently at a radio station, giving an interview about their upcoming album. Of course, the press conference from yesterday would be a topic; Minho had expected nothing less.

Minho shifted in his seat and thought for a moment. He was aware of the camera moving a little closer on him as they’d also film and upload the whole session. "As I've said, the hate, the injury, lack of sleep, and slowly stop eating altogether have all played their part in this process. It’s been weeks of feeling like shit, and I’m glad I got through the worst of it by now." 

“Many of our listeners thought it was very brave of you to open up like that since we usually don’t see this happening,” she told him with a kind smile. “That must’ve been scary.”

“It was. It still is,” he chuckled, and Jisung flashed him a gentle smile across the table. He knew how it was.

“Nevertheless, most people out there are very grateful you did that. How does that make you feel?” she asked curiously. 

“It’s a relief to hear that people can relate to my situation and don’t look down on me because of it. Also, if me opening up about my struggles helps someone, I don’t get why it is an issue to do so,” he said.

“I think a lot of people out there can relate to the feeling of trying to function when you actually feel like giving up,” Felix added.

“We’ve all been there before,” Seungmin agreed. “Maybe not as heavily, but we’ve all certainly had our struggles in the industry.”

“I think what made it so difficult was seeing Minho hyung go through it,” Hyunjin said gently. “Usually, we come to him with these issues, so no one really knew how to help.”

“Which didn’t stop them from trying, though,” Minho said reassuringly, smiling at him. “I just haven’t been so easy to deal with.”

“How has this situation been for you as a leader?” she asked, turning to Chan, sitting beside Minho quietly. 

“Oh, he struggled the most with it,” Changbin answered for him, and they all chuckled. “Minho’s always been his partner in leading the team with him.”

“That was certainly missed, yeah,” Chan laughed, winking at Minho. "I realized how much I rely on him in certain areas and I know I should've stepped up more." 

"What about that fight you mentioned? Was it with one of the members or someone else?" she asked Minho.

"That was me," Chan spoke up before Minho could answer. "I've been very difficult to deal with, and Minho didn't give up on me, which made things grow tense. I've accused him of complete bullshit to save myself and been very harsh towards him, which didn’t help him deal with his own issues." 

"But, we’ve all talked it out and are doing better than ever," Minho added with a nervous smile. 

"I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what do you mean you were difficult to deal with?" she asked. Everyone grew quiet for a moment, tension slowly rising at the question. She glanced at them, apologetically. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay,” he assured her with a warm smile and exchanged a look with Minho, who looked back at him questioningly. “I’m just trying to figure out how to start.”

“You don’t have to go in depth,” Minho assured him gently.

Chan inhaled softly before grabbing his hand beneath the table. He knew it could be seen on camera, but he couldn’t care less now. "I've been depressed, shutting everyone out for two weeks. I let some things get to me, and Minho was the only one I let near me. I didn't explain exactly how I was feeling, but he was there to hold me when I couldn't go on anymore and broke down crying repeatedly," Chan said, and everyone grew quiet. Their friends looked at Minho and Chan worriedly, hearing for the first time how much Minho actually dealt with. Minho swallowed hard. He could tell by the sound of his voice alone that Chan was having a hard time talking about it. "I've been dragging him down with me and my issues. After our fight, we both dealt with it differently. But none of us were feeling well. I’d never say I was doing as bad as him those past few weeks. Nevertheless-," his voice broke, and the grip on his hand grew tighter. 

"Chan," Minho said gently, turning a little and seeing the tears in his boyfriend's eyes.

Chan stopped for a moment, gathering himself as he found peace in Minho's soft coffee eyes. "Nevertheless, Minho saved my life even though he couldn’t stand being in a room with me at that time. And I'll be forever grateful for that. I gave up on everyone, including myself. A few weeks before Minho’s incident, I accidentally sent my goodbye message to Minho after spontaneously deciding to leave the group. I didn’t feel like I could lead them anymore and thought they’d do better without me. I knew they had Min, who would do his best to carry them through it," he said, his voice shaking as a tear ran down his cheeks. Minho blinked softly as tears brimmed his own eyes and swallowed hard, knowing he had to be strong for them in this moment. Chan wiped away the tears and exhaled shakily. "He climbed up to my balcony, even though he’s deathly scared of heights, to stop me, thinking I was talking about something else, and I-," he trailed off before holding Minho's hand up. "So yes, for everyone asking why I called him love when he collapsed or gifted him this ring, it's because I really, really love him, and I want him to know that."

Minho smiled at him and squeezed his hand. He hadn’t expected him to be that open. 

“Gosh, it sounds like you two have been through a lot lately,” she said with a compassionate smile. “Feel free to step away for a bit if you need a moment,” she told them, seeing how hard Chan was fighting back tears.

Chan exchanged a look with Minho, debating if they should take her up on that. Minho got up, still holding his hand. “Come on, Channie hyung,” he said gently, placing his headset on the table.

Minho pulled him close as soon as they were outside, his heart breaking a little at how tightly Chan clung to him, hiding his face in his shirt. “You did great, Channie love. I’m so proud of you,” he told him quietly.

“You’re right, this is scary,” he said quietly. 

“I got you,” he promised with a gentle smile, fondling his hair. “I love you so much. Thank you for having my back in there,” he whispered.

Chan pulled back and smiled as Minho wiped his cheeks for him. “I love you too, baby,” he told him quietly. He held up his pinky finger for him. “You and me against the world?”

Minho’s face softened as he returned the gesture, linking them together. “Always…Let’s go back in?”

“May I get a kiss first?” he asked.

Minho glanced around quickly before nodding. He connected their lips to a short but loving kiss and gently patted his back. “Alright, come on.”

-

The others watched them leave before turning back to their interviewer. “That is quite some story,” she said. 

“Yeah, it’s been a lot going on the past few weeks,” Jisung agreed. 

“I suppose that hasn’t been easy for you all either?” 

“We’ve had our ups and downs,” Felix told her. “Those two have formed a very deep bond over the past few years, so we all knew they could do this once they started to get along again.” 

“A very deep bond? Do you mean like very good friends? Or are the rumors true, and there’s more?”

“You could call them our parents by now. These two are so in sync it’s annoying,” Jeongin lightened the mood as they came back inside and sat down. 

“As charming as always,” Chan commented dryly.

“We’ve been blessed with a few chaotic kids. It’s only natural that we had to step up and lead them,” Minho winked at Jeongin, who stuck out his tongue at him. “See?” he asked, making everyone laugh. 

"Your friends have been telling me about that deep bond you share. Our listeners would love to know if the rumors are true?" she asked and Minho looked at Chan. 

Chan looked almost a little anxious as he met his eyes, swallowing hard at the pure love and adoration in his boyfriend's doe eyes. Minho smiled gently, taking Chan's hand and squeezing it. "Chan means a lot to me, which is why fighting with him had taken such a toll on me. We're a team and we work best when we're together," Minho said, keeping his eyes on Chan. "I love him, that sums it up well." 

"Platonic love or-?" she asked curiously. 

Minho could tell Chan wasn't quite ready to open up that much today and simply smiled, still not looking away from him. "No comment." 

Chan chuckled, finger brushing over his ring delicately. He turned toward their interviewer, taking a deep breath. "As I said, I love him too. That's all I have for you right now."

Felix and Changbin grinned as they watched them, Jisung exchanged a fond glance with Hyunjin and Jeongin winked at Seungmin. They all knew damn well how very obvious those statements have been without saying much or admitting anything. At the end of the day, their hyungs knew how to dance along the fine line. 

"Well…I wish you the best of luck then to keep what you have right now," she said with a knowing smile. 

A few weeks later

Minho adjusted his newest stage outfit and sighed after cracking his neck. He was tired and already longed to be wrapped up in Chan's arms and back in bed. He had gotten through most of his performances for the day already and was about to perform for the last time. "Can I borrow that one for a moment?" he asked Felix, who was walking past him with a fan. 

"You can keep it," Felix told him, and Minho nodded thankfully. 

He closed his eyes as the cool air hit his face and took a few deep breaths. His head was hurting a little from all the noise, so he made his way outside their dressing room, leaning against the wall. 

Only a few seconds later, the door opened again. "Are you okay?" Chan asked caringly. 

Minho nodded and flashed him a small smile. "I'm okay. It's too loud in there," he told him. 

"Understandable," he nodded agreeingly and rolled his eyes fondly. "But seriously, are you sure you’re feeling?" 

"Yeah," he nodded. 

"Your knee's alright?" he asked. 

"It has been for a while now, yes," he told him amused. 

"You're not feeling dizzy or anything?" Chan made sure, and Minho shook his head. 

"I'm overwhelmed, that's all. Today there have been a lot of bright lights and loud noises. I'm getting a bit of a headache, but I'll get through the last performance and relax later," he assured him. 

Chan stepped in front of him and gently massaged the back of his neck before going up to his temples. Minho moaned softly at the relieving touch and closed his eyes. "I'm proud of you, baby. You've worked hard today." 

"Thank you," he smiled shyly and opened his eyes again. "I missed being on stage like this."

"I know you did," he nodded and kissed his forehead. "Have I told you how much your new hair color suits you yet?" he asked, brushing back Minho's currently dark purplish hair. 

"Only a million times," he winked at him. "I like it too, no worries," he giggled. 

"So pretty." Chan gave him a short kiss. "Can I walk you to the stage?" 

"Sure," he smiled sweetly and laughed as their friends all came outside. 

"We wouldn't want to miss your last performance," Jisung smiled. 

"You guys are so sweet," Minho told them and took Chan's hand. "Alright, let's go." 

"Good luck," Chan told him right before he left, and Minho took his place on stage. 

He was feeling alright throughout the performance, hitting his notes beautifully and dancing smoothly as always. 

"Gosh, he sounds so good," Jisung beamed excitedly as Minho hit a high note.

"Is he okay, though?" Felix frowned softly. 

"Right? It looked like he stumbled a bit," Jeongin nodded nervously. 

"He's shaking," Seungmin added. 

"Please shut up," Chan said anxiously, seeing all of it himself. His eyes haven’t left Minho the entire performance. 

Minho knew the song was coming to an end and felt relieved, knowing he'd soon be back home. He stepped forward at the end and panted heavily, finally feeling how exhausted his body actually was. He squinted his eyes as the audience began to blur in front of him, and felt dizziness taking over his body. Not again. Minho pulled his earpiece out as a high-pitched tone rang through his ear and clutched his chest, pained. Fuck. He nervously glanced to the stage exit, debating if he should risk staying where he was or getting off stage before another debacle. 

"What the fuck is he doing?" Changbin asked worriedly. 

"He doesn't look good," Hyunjin agreed. They all glanced at Chan, who was anxiously chewing on his lower lip. The moment Minho sank down to his knees, head hanging low as he tried to hide his pain, Jisung, Felix, and Changbin held Chan back. 

"Hey, let me go! He needs help!" he protested. 

"Chan hyung, you can't storm on stage now, okay?" Seungmin told him. 

"There's staff already out there to help him," Jeongin pointed out as someone brought him water. 

"I told them it would be too much for him," Chan said weakly. 

"We know, he knows as well," Felix said calmingly. 

"Fuck it, I'm getting him off stage," Chan groaned and pushed them off before making his way on stage. 

"Fucks sake, Chan," Felix groaned. 

Minho looked up at him, surprised as Chan was suddenly kneeling down next to him and cupping his face. "Relax," he whispered, noticing the anxiety in Chan's eyes. "We're on stage, angel." 

"You got dizzy?" he asked gently, and Minho nodded. 

"It was a little too much," he told him tiredly. "My body hurt and gave up on me for a minute." 

"You think you can get up?" he asked, and Minho nodded bravely, letting Chan help him up. Chan wrapped his arm around him tightly and led him off the stage. As soon as they were backstage, Chan snapped at one of their staff members. "I told you it would be too much!" 

"Chan," Minho cut him off sharply, and everyone looked at him worriedly. "I said I would be fine. I overestimated myself, and my body showed me that I was not ready for this yet. It's fine, let it be." 

"You wouldn't have done it if they hadn't suggested it. You're trying to satisfy them again," he told him. 

Minho tiredly rubbed his hurting head and looked at the staff members. "Can you get the car, please? I need a break." They nodded at him and quickly called their car. 

"Wrong place, wrong time, Chan hyung," Jisung told him gently, letting Minho brace himself on his shoulder. "Come on, let's sit down somewhere until the car's here." Seungmin came to help and wrapped his arm around his waist, steadying him. 

Felix gently rested his hand on Chan's arm. "He needs his boyfriend now, not our leader," he told him softly, and Chan glanced at him nervously. 

"I just want him to be okay again," he confessed weakly. 

"We know," Changbin told him kindly. 

"You can still talk about schedules later. Right now, he needs a hug and you telling him he did amazing today," Hyunjin told him. 

"Go on," Jeongin gave him a gentle push. 

Chan groaned softly but did as they said and walked over to them. He crouched in front of Minho, and his heart fluttered at his boyfriend's tired smile. "Sorry, I lost my temper back there."

"You were worried, it’s alright," he told him kindly, not noticing Seungmin and Jisung leaving them alone. Minho gently reached out for him and fondled his hair. "I promise you, I'm okay. Just very tired." 

"I'm sorry I got scared for a second," he confessed and sat on the sofa next to him. Minho turned slightly and pressed his forehead against Chan's. Their hands found each other, and Minho squeezed it gently. 

"I'm here, I’m still conscious," he promised. 

Chan pulled him into his lap and hugged him close as Minho sank against him with a soft sigh. "You were amazing today. I'm really proud of you," he told him. 

"Thanks, Channie hyung," he smiled sweetly and closed his eyes. "I'm so tired," he said softly. 

"You can sleep. I'll take care of everything else," he assured him. Minho didn't need a second invitation. 

Chan carried him to the car later, protecting his head as he leaned down to sit him inside. He sat down next to him, letting him sleep on his shoulder. He carried him inside once they reached home. At home, he laid him down on his bed and filled the bathtub with warm water to soothe his hurting body. He got him undressed and into the tub, bracing him as he very gently washed his hair and body. Minho was only half awake throughout the process, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless. 

Chan got him dressed again before carrying him downstairs and sitting on the sofa with him on his lap. Felix handed him a plate with some food, and Chan started feeding Minho slowly. Minho was barely able to keep his eyes open but made sure to eat a little, knowing he needed the energy. He grew heavy against him and fell asleep as soon as Chan started running his hand through his hair. 

The others all made sure to eat quietly and only talked with their voices lowered to give him some rest. Later, they put on a movie and gathered on the sofa around them, knowing if Minho woke up, he'd feel better seeing them continuing their day as always. He woke up later with a massive headache and winced softly as he moved on top of him. 

Chan looked down worriedly. "What's wrong?" 

"Headache," he groaned, melting into him as Chan massaged his scalp and temples. Felix came over with a glass of water and a pain pill for him, which he took, thankfully. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep again, curling up in Chan's arms. 

Chan kept on lovingly massaging his head for a while and smiled softly as Minho grew calm again. The others all slowly went to bed until it was just Chan, Jisung, and Minho left. 

"You need help carrying him upstairs?" Jisung offered quietly. Chan glanced down at Minho sleeping peacefully on his chest. 

"I think we'll just stay on the sofa for the night," he shook his head. "I don't want to wake him up again." 

"Alright," he nodded and gently patted Chan's shoulder. "Sleep well, Chan hyung." 

"You too, Hannie," he smiled and watched him leave. Chan got comfortable on the sofa and pulled Minho down with him, who stirred in his sleep. "It's fine, keep sleeping," he told him quietly, fondling his hair. Minho cuddled into him, and soon Chan fell asleep right after. 

Chp.19| Chp. 21

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaasia111 @galaxycatdrawz @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @mellhwang @lixie-phoria @michelle4eve @gxtwllsn @xxstrayland @kibs-and-bits

[triptychgrip]

Because the YOI fandom needs more "Viktor riling his husband up in order to distract Yuuri from his nerves (and also b/c he longs for smutty payback)"...

I personally believe that every once in awhile, Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov would get an immense rush from sexily teasing his nervous husband, all so that Dom Yuuri can put him in his place, afterwards. If you need convincing, might I interest you in this fluff/smut fic (that will be at least 10K words long when I'm done with it, which, incidentally, is actually on the shorter end for me)?

In this particular bit of filth set in the summer of 2021, Yuuri is anxious prior to his meeting with the Japan Skating Federation, one in which he'll relay his decision to retire the following year (after the 2022 Beijing Games). In his duty as coach, Viktor first tries to distract Yuuri in their shared office at home, but when Yuuri kicks him out -- after an all-too-fleeting makeout session -- Viktor steps it up to sexting.

I always have so much fun writing kinky fluff/smut between these two, and can't wait to post the final (second) chapter next week. Below is an excerpt that I hope will pique your interest in this or my other Yuri!!! on Ice work.

Content warning for explicit/implied sexual content ahead

----

With almost embarrassing speed, Yuuri nudged Makkachin out the door (first kissing the top of her floofy head in apology) and retrieved the lube that he kept in the bottom-most drawer of his desk.

…just in case.

Then, he got his phone back out and clicked into Signal, his heart climbing into his throat and his anticipation mounting.

Immediately, his mouth went slack; he knew this song! And what was more: Yuuri knew that Viktor knew that he knew it.

They’d heard it together two weeks ago when they’d capped off their date night at Dark Room, one of their favorite nightclubs in Fukuoka. He shivered, remembering how they’d both been a bit tipsy, kissing and grinding up on one another as the pulsing beat vibrated through their bodies, pressed flush together. 

‘Heatstroke’, indeed.

And though his love was by their pool and not in a dark nightclub, the current video featuring his nearly naked body – contorting mesmerizingly as he danced to the song – sent that same rush of scorching heat licking up Yuuri’s spine. 

But the most erotic part of the video wasn’t how Viktor’s bare chest and arms were gleaming – had he covered himself in some kind of shimmery massage oil? – or how the skirt he was outfitted in was even shorter than the rose-print one he’d been wearing, earlier.

It was his choice of prop: a melting ice cream bar that Yuuri was positive he hadn’t seen in the freezer. 

A trickle of white ran down into the crevice between Viktor’s fingers, and he didn’t appear to blink even once as he eyed the camera and began to suck on them, vigorously. After only a few seconds of this, he swiped a dab of ice cream onto his spit-slicked fingers and then streaked it over a nipple, the visual reminding him of last week, when his husband had blown him and frantically begged him to cum all over his chest.

Yuuri moaned as if struck. 

Stress-eating sweets was a go-to move for him prior to meetings like this, so he’d scoured their cabinets and freezer earlier for that needed dopamine rush. He hadn’t seen any hint of ice-cream, and had actually been a little cranky because of it. 

Added to the fact that Viktor had on a different skirt and type of braid than he’d been sporting earlier, he was more confident than ever that his spouse had filmed this video on some other day.

Meaning, he’d been planning this.

Fuck.

[litrumi]

Brief Update - ADLN's Accessibility

So I forgot to mention this prior, but something had been on my mind for a whileee.

I know that I've always had the story posted to only Wattpad and everything, but I also understand that people have different comfort platforms and just, in general, prefer certain communities and such.

I didn't really want to limit the availability of ADLN, although I want to firmly state that Wattpad is definitely the home platform I'm personally more familiar with.

EVEN SO, I thought about this over and over again, so for those of you who did NOT yet know, I...

...Have also made a port of the fanfic available to AO3 Readers!

I completely understand that some people much prefer AO3 to Wattpad, or even maybe only know AO3 as their trusty reading site. Therefore, I felt comfortable enough to also make it available to those who might like an option to instead read it on AO3.

HOWEVER

I want to make it VERY clear from the get-go that this AO3 port... will be updated secondarily. Basically, all I'm saying is that Wattpad gets updates and focus first, then AO3 gets updates second. And FOR the time being, seeing as I'm taking 5 million years to update the story as it is, AO3 will be getting slower updates in turn.

As of this post, AO3 has access up to only Chapter 3, but some of you may know that Wattpad's already up to Chapter 8.

So EVENTUALLY, both stories will be equally caught up as I work on the story, but it's all just one big waiting game since I want to feel comfortable and in control of my own schedule. Thank ya very much.

The plan is pretty much updating AO3's chapters roughly once a month until it's fully caught up to Wattpad's.

I'm also still figuring out AO3 as a whole since I'm still relatively new to it, so bear with me.

And, I cannot stress this enough, but there's probably gonna be small-ish differences between both. I guess? Nothing important though.

If you know about Chapter 6 on Wattpad, you have to understand that I cannot really port it over EXACTLY as it is. The two sites are different with what I can and cannot do (cough, in-line comments, cough).

Still, Wattpad as a whole, I'm thinking of doing tiny little bonus things for? (Again, not important. Just fun for me).

For example, if you remember some... uhh "multiple choice" for Chapter 6, I'm thinking of adding UNIMPORTANT but secret/extra dialogue to the "incorrect" prompts, just for a little flare. I wanna go tee-hee, dang it. Anyway, I'd probably do it via in-line comments, but I haven't decided yet. Who knows. If it happens, you'll see it.

Regardless, that's all I've got for now. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

Chapter 9's still being worked on. I'm not saying soon. You know the drill.

Thanks for reading this!

Take care!

-

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Hey guys! So ToF updates tomorrow and I wanted to apologize for the lack of Divisa chapters.

It seems like I'm apologizing to yall a lot— but I digress.

Divisa isn't on hiatus or hold or anything, it's just a 'i post when I post' type of story and I haven't been writing in it. I've just been so hyper-focused on ToF lately since I've got a clear plan of what I need for it! I'm sure it'll be around 50-ish chapters until it ends, it may be more or it may be less tbh.

I might start making my chapters longer and I won't edit them nearly as much, or I'll edit them on another place that I post (like wattpad and AO3) first and hopefully the edits (like italics and stuff) will transfer 🤔

Anyways, for the plan, smut will more than likely happen after Xavier's myth– if I can fit it into the story, that is, but it'll more than likely happen! It'll be between Sylus and the reader, so if hope no one minds him getting the first shot, but the reader is going to be really stressed once these flashbacks/forwards are over and will need some help.

However, for those who don't want smut, I will post the smut as it's own separate chapter. I'll just make it a "2.0" or "chapter name +"! Which means the smut chapter will be considerably shorter, but if you don't want to read smut, the story will still flow the same regardless! For the non-smut chapter, I'll just have them insinuate the smut and cut it there, since I have plans for what happens after! 💜

But yeah, anyways, I have a clear cut plan for ToF, which means I also have an ending in mind! I want to complete the story before any new chapters or characters are added 🤔 however, if the story branches are canon, I will write those after the 'freak-out, avoid them all out of guilt' arc.

For the ending, I won't spoil much, but the reader will have children. Now, I personally don't want children and if I did, I'd be getting a surrogate, however I want the reader to have a child with each of the love interests. I already have the names and gender chosen. The children will be two sets of twins, one boy and three girls. (I'm sorry for not splitting the gender equally, but I never see baby girls in stories, I always only ever see baby boys. Especially in manhwa). Zayne and Sylus will be the fathers to one set with Rafayel and Xavier the other fathers.

And while it is highly unlikely to happen, it is possible for twins to have two different fathers and...it's gonna happen twice 🤷🏻‍♀️ Now while i already know what they're going to look like, the children will have their specific father's hair colour, but the eye colour of the other father. I would've had the children be an even split of you and the love interest but...I'm already doing that for Divisa (oops– spoilers ig), so i wanted to do something different!

To get yall excited, I'll reveal the names too! I'm feeling extra generous today ig 😭

Zayne's will be the boy and his name will be Jasper. It's not for its meaning though it does mean "precious stone" and "treasurer". It's because of the jasmine flower, "Jas".

Sylus's daughter will be Maevis. The name means "song bird", so i think it's quite fitting. The name also gives off kind of dark vibes and dark vibes fit Sylus to me!

Xavier's was a bit of a struggle, but i decided on Lucia. It means "of the light". I wanted a light themed name for his child and I really wanted to choose Marisela, but that name means "star of the sea" and i didn't want to use both Xavier and Rafayel's vibes for her, so Lucia it is!

And lastly, Rafayel's daughter is Cordelia. Now, at first, you might be like "but Pluto, Marisela!" Or "Myrena is right there!" Myrena means "of the sea" by the way. However, Cordelia means "daughter of the sea" and also "heart of the sea". Both of these meanings, especially the heart aspect, make so much more sense in my eyes and I hope you like the idea as much as I do!

They will be taking your last name since I can't recall any of the LI's having a last name 🤔 and I'm thinking of giving the children flower themed middle names. I'm not completely sure yet though tbh since middle names aren't necessary...but I also have an idea for what they'd call your baby bump 🥺 i won't share that though, since I'd love to see yalls reaction to it in the story itself!

Anyway, there's still a lot left of this story and I hope everyone is as excited for it as I am!

(I won't add too many tags, since this isn't an officially story update. That'll be tomorrow <3 but i do want this idea out there, because it's something im really excited for and I'm sure yall will love it)

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 22)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 6,985

Summary: As Horacio's and Javier's stay in Manizales comes to an end, Elena has some words of wisdom and an unexpected offer for their future.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, religious themes, brief non-explicit sexual references, smoking, swearing.

Notes: As promised, here's the second half of their Manizales adventures. I'm still wrestling with editing chapter 23 at the moment, plus life has been kind of busy/stressful lately, so not sure when it will be ready to post. But the finish line is definitely within touching distance now ❤️

Thank you once again to anyone still reading/commenting/making moodboards and playlists or drawing, I'm blown away when my fic inspires others to create. I'll be making a proper masterlist once the fic is finished, where I'll link to everything people have made or have suggested playlist songs etc., plus there'll be my own playlist and moodboards.

Feel free to drop me a comment, whether it's about the new chapter or an older one, I'm always happy to chat 😊

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 22: Past, Present, Future

The early morning mist transformed into drizzle in the time it took Horacio to run around the farm boundaries, the spray cooling his clammy skin as he worked up a sweat. He left Javier to wake and shower at his own leisurely pace, a routine they had settled into since arriving here. Although two mornings ago, both Javier and Alejandra were suspiciously worse-for-wear, and Horacio didn’t see much of either of them until after lunch.

Today, they planned to join one of Fabián’s tours, which included a coffee-tasting session. So, even if the exercise hadn’t woken Horacio up, the caffeine certainly would.

The rain eased off once back at the finca, sunrays now straining to break through the low clouds as Horacio showered and dressed, somehow still beating Javier.

Tempting aromas from the kitchen let Horacio know his Mamá was already up and about after making the children breakfast before Alejandra dropped them off at school.

As he sat down at the kitchen table and poured himself a glass of orange juice – his usual coffee would wait for later – both cats, Caturra and Bourbon, took turns rubbing themselves against his legs.

“You and Alejandra loved that stray cat when you were young,” said Elena, who had appeared from the larder with her arms full of eggs, chorizo and arepas. “What was her name?”

“Estrella.”

“She was the next best thing to a jaguar, and you were desperate to see one back then.”

“I remember. Never did, though.”

“Not many get the privilege these days.”

“Can’t say I blame them for keeping out of sight.”

Horacio remembered his Abuela Margarita telling him stories of how the jaguar, snake and condor were the original creators of the world and how the jaguar was tricked by man into parting with its power of fire. The feline creature was forced to survive on its cunning and strength alone, prowling around the mountains and jungles of Colombia, waiting patiently to exact revenge.

For too long, Horacio had stalked, clawed and mauled his prey all over Medellín, seeking vengeance on those who betrayed his country and its people. He was an apex predator maintaining balance and order in the food chain, not out of choice but necessity. A reluctant warrior backed into a corner until a palpable sense of duty kicked in when the threat was too real to ignore.

But whatever the unseen truth was, jaguars gained a reputation as ferocious killers, feared by humans until they became the hunted rather than the hunter, gunned down and chased into hiding and a life of solitude. An act of cowardice by the jaguar on the face of it, but these days, Horacio liked to think of it as an evolutionary advantage, the opposite side of the fight-or-flight coin.

“It’s understandable, yes. But a life in the shadows has its drawbacks.”

“True. But there can be a certain kind of freedom in the dark. Especially when those with flares want you dead.”

“Not everyone offering light wants that, Mijo.”

Horacio, who had focused on the floor for most of the conversation, finally looked up, hazel eyes mirrored back at him with extra shades of wisdom. His dour expression softened, and his shoulders sagged in concession. “I know.”

“Whilst I’ve got you here…” Elena trailed off, disappearing upstairs before returning with a small wooden trinket box.

She sat down at the table and extracted a gold chain from the box. “He’d want you to have it.”

Horacio stared at the pendants that swung back and forth like a pendulum clock as Elena held them out towards him. His cheeks hollowed, and his lips formed a sharp pout from how tightly he held his jaw in place. “Mamá, I can’t. Not after everything. Not after I ran away.”

“What are you talking about?”

“After I was injured, I went into hiding...in Laredo, Texas. And I quit.” He grasped his hands together and bowed his head as though in prayer, but he wasn’t sure even God could help him now he had confessed his sins. “I’m sorry I kept it from you. And I know you’re probably wondering why I went –”

“Javier.”

Horacio froze, undecided if he was caught off guard by the mention of Javier’s name or how he could hear his Mamá’s smile as she said it, as though it was the most glaringly obvious response anyone could ever have given.

“It’s okay, Mijo. You don’t have to explain yourself. He told me about the ranch whilst you and Alejandra cleaned up on your first night here.”

“That’s how you knew?”

“Well, not only that. I might be older these days, but I’m not blind.”

Elena chuckled, but Horacio could tell it wasn’t at his expense. So, he allowed his jaw some leeway, unclenching his teeth and facial muscles, almost appreciating the ache left behind. A chain reaction surged through his body, tension unknowingly carried for decades ebbing away now the secret he once believed would follow him to his grave was not only out but wasn’t being held against him.

And so he threw caution to the wind and let the floodgates open. He told his Mamá about Madrid and working on the ranch, about their plans for the future, about life in Laredo and even the crucifix, just in case she had noticed its absence and assumed the worst.

Talk of the crucifix prompted Elena to take one of Horacio’s hands in hers, where she deposited her gift of gold before he could refuse. “Take it. Please.” Her hand formed a dome over Horacio’s, fingers gently squeezing.

Once Elena withdrew, Horacio unfurled his palm and stared down at his very own El Dorado. “After my injury, I’d dream about this sometimes. And the stories you and Abuelita Mirabel told us about Bochica. I wish it’d been as easy as striking a staff to stop Escobar.”

“Bochica might have saved his people from drowning, but he couldn’t save them from the conquistadors and their gold-digging.”

Horacio rolled his eyes and sighed. “I know you don’t approve of Madrid, Mamá. And I know I’m no Bolívar, but –”

“Mijo, what are you talking about? I know you had your reasons for Madrid – even the second time. That’s not what I meant. And no one’s asking you to be Bolívar.”

A salient monument dedicated to Simón Bolívar stood in the centre of Manizales. The statue was half-man, half-condor, each entity synonymous with the other as national symbols of freedom and sovereignty. It still stung for Horacio to be reminded he had worn the Colombian coat of arms on his uniform sleeve every day, the proud condor flying above the motto Libertad y Orden (Freedom and Order) with Dios y Patria (God and Country) sworn beneath. But unlike Bolívar and Bochica, Horacio was unable to liberate his people.

Instead, he had sought refuge in two countries that had interfered the most with Colombia's autonomy. He had made a home on the land of the former Empire and used the gringos to his advantage when it suited him, never mind allowing one of them into his heart and bed.

Elena pressed her hand tenderly to Horacio’s cheek, the conflict in his mind apparently written all over his face. It was an action he had been on the receiving end of throughout childhood, but one that still had the power to soothe him as though no time had passed since.

“You’re also forgetting Chibchacum’s role in Bochica’s story,” she continued. “He was the one punished to carry the world on his back for creating the flood in the first place. Bochica did the best he could in terrible circumstances, and that’s all anyone could ask for.”

Memories re-surfaced of Abuelita Mirabel sitting between Horacio and Alejandra on the sofa, a blanket spread across the three of them, where she told of how every time there was an earthquake in Colombia, it was the weight of the world shifting on Chibchacum’s back. Little did Horacio know that would become a feeling he was all too familiar with when he was older.

But his Mamá was right; he wasn’t Chibchacum or Bochica. And he certainly wasn't Bolívar. But neither was his Papá.

So, he took a deep breath and raised the chain to unclip the fastening. From there, he attached it behind his neck, letting the deity and the angel finally rest against his skin.

“Beautiful,” Elena said, her eyes suddenly glossy and the corner of her lips twitching.

“Thank you.” Horacio held his Mamá’s gaze until it was necessary to look away and clear his throat. “What else is in there, anyway?” He swiftly motioned towards the box.

Elena passed it over to Horacio so he could look for himself. Nestled inside were his Papá’s wedding ring and lapel pins, his Abuelo Ignacio’s St. Michael’s cross, rosary beads, an old pack of Deportivo Independiente Medellín trading cards, a postcard of an orange grove with handwriting Horacio recognised as his Mamá’s on the back, and a black and white photograph of a young boy draped in a police jacket that was far too big for him. Behind him stood his father in the rest of the uniform the jacket belonged to.

“Is that Papá and Abuelo Ignacio?”

Elena laughed. “Of course!” She got up again without explanation, re-appearing with a photo album this time.

She flicked through it until she found what she was looking for. “Where do you think we got the idea for this from?”

She was pointing at an almost identical picture. The two boys in the photos had the same thick dark hair and charcoal eyes, a resemblance that would carry through into adulthood – although Horacio built up more muscle than his father ever did.

Horacio smiled. “I remember that being taken. It was my first day at school.”

“It was his idea before you set off for school, and he set off for work. He made sure I was ready with the camera when you came downstairs in your uniform.”

“I never knew it was his idea.” The dejection was evident in Horacio’s voice, even if he tried to hide it.

“He might not have said it much, but he was so proud of you, you know. And so am I.”

Horacio swallowed hard with his eyes shut, anything to hold himself together. “I used to take this when you weren’t looking,” he managed to get out, gesturing towards the photo album. “Same with some of the other old albums we had. Well, I kept a couple of them, actually.” He chuckled at the thought of the albums currently residing on a shelf in Madrid. “I always went back to the photos and his uniform for some reason.”

“You didn’t have to hide it from me.”

“Neither did you with us.”

“I know. But you were both so young. You didn’t need that burden on top of everything else.”

“You could never be a burden, Mamá.”

“You and Alejandra were busy forging your careers. I had to stay strong at work, helping people worse off than me. So, I saved most of it for my prayers and Día de Todos los Santos.”

Horacio remembered attending Mass and his Papá’s grave every Día de Todos los Santos. But it was different to Día de Muertos. They weren’t welcoming his Papá home; they were praying for those in purgatory and heaven. And as much as he liked to think his Papá was a saint, there was always a part of him terrified that if he didn’t pray hard enough, his Papá would never be cleansed of his sins.

“I was in Laredo for Día de Muertos. Javier’s father – Chucho – had a box like this for Javier’s mother – Mariana. He used it to make an ofrenda for her.”

Another piece of the puzzle seemed to click into place for Elena in a look that combined realisation with sympathy. Another loss, another parallel, another explanation.

“A beautiful tradition,” she concluded.

“Yeah, it is. One that remembers the people we’ve lost as we knew them and welcomes them back home.”

“A bit like this, you mean?”

“Something like that.”

“Whilst we’re here…there’s something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Go on.”

“Money from the house sale in Medellín has been sitting in a bank account since I moved here, along with some left over from your Papá. The plan was to split it between you and Alejandra when I’m gone, but…why wait?”

“What? But Mamá, that’s your money.”

“Technically, half of it is your Papá’s. But he’s not here. And who better to put that money to good use than his children?”

“Even though I wouldn’t have children of my own to return the favour one day?”

It was a question that had lingered on the tip of Horacio’s tongue since arriving here. A question he had tried to ignore for a long time before that, if he was honest. He learned of Juliana’s first pregnancy from his Mamá, who had heard the news from a friend of a friend. That was all she said on the matter, but Horacio was never sure whether he imagined the traces of disappointment in her voice that it wasn’t his child.

“Horacio, do you really think that matters to me?”

There was no disappointment in Elena’s tone now, just incredulous confusion that made Horacio regret his words.

“Even if I wasn’t surrounded by my amorcitos every single day, I would want you and Alejandra to make your own choices. Live your own lives. If that doesn’t involve children for you, then so be it.”

Horacio nodded, his lungs expelling a freeing breath he hadn't been aware was trapped in the depths of his rib cage. “Have you spoken to Alejandra about the money?”

“Not yet. But I know the farm needs repairs, and they’ve always got plans for this place. Same as the ranch.”

“I don’t own the ranch, though, Mamá.”

“No. But from everything you’ve told me about Chucho, he obviously trusts you with his business. And I don’t imagine you and Javier will want to live in a guesthouse for the rest of your lives. Visas don’t come cheap, either.”

Of course, she was right on all three counts. Horacio had a lot of on-the-job training ahead of him. He would effectively be starting from scratch again. But Chucho had welcomed him with open arms into his home and livelihood. It wasn’t implausible that if Horacio had ideas for the ranch, Chucho would take them on board.

They hadn't discussed living arrangements yet, but Horacio was confident neither he nor Javier had envisaged the guesthouse as a permanent solution. And then there was the small matter of Horacio’s visa. The paperwork upon which their future in Laredo hinged. He tried not to think about all the different ways it could go wrong or what they would do if it did. But that was a problem for another day. A problem that would no doubt be made easier with extra money in tow.

So, he ignored the whispering ghosts of his ancestors because his Mamá was right; he wasn’t doing this for his Papá. And he certainly wasn’t doing it for the people of Colombia, past or present.

“Okay,” he said in the end. “But only if Alejandra agrees to it, too.”

The sound of a throat being cleared caught them off guard and drew a temporary line under the conversation.

“Morning,” Javier greeted as he hovered by the kitchen door. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” Of course, he knew he was and an apology with his eyes was all he could offer Horacio for the time being.

“Good morning, Javier. And on the contrary! How do you feel about calentado?”

Whatever Javier had been expecting Elena’s response to be, for some reason, it wasn’t that. He looked towards Horacio for the slightest hint about what he had walked in on.

Horacio wanted to explain everything – and later he would – but for now, he ushered Javier to sit down.

“Er, sounds perfect, thanks,” Javier told Elena as his foot found Horacio’s under the table.

And as the three of them chatted and helped prepare breakfast, Horacio had to admit Javier was right.

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

The coffee tour took up the rest of the morning. It was no wonder Horacio had always been particular on the subject when he knew which were the best beans and blends to be found in Colombia. He still had occasional pangs for his former life, but the weak instant shit the gringos brought with them to Carlos Holguín wasn’t one of them.

Naturally, the heavens opened before the end of the tour – bad for the tourists but good for the soil – and by the time they had returned to the finca, another shower was required.

They showered together, the finca empty for a change. Plus, they had nothing to hide anymore – at least not with the people that mattered the most. That hadn’t quite sunk in for Horacio even after he told Javier everything. Even when his last defences buckled, and he broke down in Javier's arms, letting himself be held. Even when he was kissing Javier, slow and deep, in his family’s bathroom, their breaths heavy and desperate in such a confined space.

One thing could easily have led to another as Horacio pinned Javier against the cold tiles, bare skin seeking out bare skin, emotions running high. There was no doubt they wanted it to, and in almost any other circumstance, it would have.

“Not here,” Horacio whispered, his voice shaking and his forehead falling against Javier’s as he was hit by a sudden clarity of thought. “I’m sorry.”

Javier hushed lightly, cradling Horacio against his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.” He kissed across damp hair, running his fingers through thick strands that always became curlier when wet. “We don’t have to do anything.”

Light strokes soon morphed into lathered hands as Javier washed and rinsed Horacio’s hair, massaging the shampoo into his scalp and soothing away stubborn remnants of tension.

Although a niggling knot remained, an unspoken question and an uninitiated conversation. “When I was talking with my mother earlier…” Horacio began, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to let the hot jets cascade down his neck and shoulders.

Javier hummed in encouragement, his lips following the water droplets, enveloping Horacio in a blanket of warmth from all angles.

“She reassured me she wouldn’t be disappointed if I never had children.” Horacio let his words hang in the white noise of the shower, giving Javier time to adjust to the change of subject.

“Did you think she would be?”

“It crossed my mind. So much has been passed down through the Carrillo side of my family. From my Abuelo to my Papá. From my Papá to me.”

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but four of your nieces and nephews are around here somewhere.”

Horacio let out a light huff. “Like I could forget. But…they’re Alejandra’s, not mine.”

“I know. But I think you’re forgetting the real question here. Would you be disappointed?”

“Back when I was younger, when I was with Juliana, I might’ve said yes. More out of expectation than anything else. But with you…I think we ripped up and threw away the rule book a long time ago.”

“Thank fuck for that. We’ve never been very good at following rules anyway.”

It didn't take long for them both to laugh at such a flagrant understatement.

“So, you do feel the same then?” Horacio asked in earnest.

“I was less than an hour away from getting my very own white fucking picket fence. If I’d wanted it, I could’ve had it. But that wasn’t my idea of the American Dream.”

Horacio turned in Javier’s arms, and the last seed of doubt was finally plucked from his mind. His lips captured Javier’s again, a statement of intent for their future. A future they no longer had to hide from their families. 

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

Javier seated himself in the large wooden gazebo at the end of the garden, which doubled as a viewing platform over the steep valley below. For once, sunlight had won the battle against the mist, and the sky was a brilliant shade of blue. It made it possible to see for miles, giving the illusion of being high amongst the surrounding trees alongside the raucous birdlife living in their branches.

It was their penultimate morning in Manizales, upon which Javier had changed a habit of a lifetime by getting up with Horacio. They had penned in some sightseeing of the city later. But for now, Horacio had gone for his usual run, and Javier started the day with possibly the best coffee he had ever drunk.

“May I join you?”

Javier looked up from his cup and cleared his throat. “Oh, er, of course.”

As Elena sat down, the sun glinted off the silver jewellery bonded to Javier’s chest, making them squint at its reflection. He instinctively brought a hand to his neck in a fumbled effort to shove the crucifix beneath the open collar of his shirt.

“You don’t need to do that, you know.”

Fuck. He'd been busted.

However, Elena's voice contained no traces of judgment, and it quickly put Javier at ease. He lowered his hand to his knee, giving a brief bob of the head before taking another sip of coffee.

“I still wear these.” Elena raised her left hand, showing off a sparkling diamond ring above a plain gold band. “The amount of awkward questions about the whereabouts of my husband these have caused over the years. Yet I still can’t bring myself to take them off. Although…”

With her right hand, she took hold of the top ring and wiggled it off her finger, then did the same with the second ring, with more force required this time.

Javier wasn’t sure what was happening until the dappled morning light fell on the inside of the ring he held up to his face.

Suerte que encontré a mi media naranja

(Lucky that I found my soulmate)

“It’s beautiful.”

“Eduardo wasn’t a man of many words, but he had his moments.” Elena’s smile took on a wistful appearance as Javier passed the ring back.

“My Pops is the same with his wedding ring. He insists on wearing it every day, which isn’t really compatible with the day job.”

“I can imagine. I hear it became Horacio’s day job, too?”

“Yeah,” Javier said with an involuntary grin. “I know it might be hard to believe, and I know it’s not what he expected, but it suits him.” Literally as well figuratively, he managed to stop himself from blurting out.

“I can’t remember him ever saying he wanted to be anything other than a police officer. My parents ran a textile business, and Eduardo’s mother was a nurse. But Horacio followed his father, who followed his father like it was their birthright. I always worried about Eduardo, especially if he was running late or was called to an emergency. Then it was the same with Horacio, too. So much blood spilt on our doorsteps, on our streets, in our churches.”

Elena promptly picked up her cup, the balm of hot fruit tea required before she could continue.

“Whenever the phone rang – or I heard a knock at the door – I prepared for the worst. It happened to so many friends and neighbours. So why not my husband or son? Of course, it was Eduardo’s heart in the end. But once Search Bloc made Horacio a walking target, it was only a matter of time. I’d spent years expecting it, but what I hadn’t accounted for in all of my fretting, pacing, and prayers…was you.”

“Me?”

“He told me what you did. How much trouble you and your partner got in for it. How you got injured yourself. How…you saved my son and his men.”

“We couldn’t save them all,” was Javier’s sole response to the lashings of praise he still wasn’t convinced he truly deserved in light of how the ambush came about in the first place.

“You saved more than your superiors were willing to, by the sounds of it.”

Javier scoffed. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

“Good. And as for the ranch…he’s always liked to keep busy. Just like his father, he could never sit still and relax for long. I can see it. I bet he looks the part.”

“He does, actually.” That was allowed, Javier told himself.

“I thought something had changed after his injury, even if he wouldn’t tell us much. I hoped he’d seen sense, but I knew he was prepared to die for that mission of his – that obsession. I’d almost accepted it, to be honest, especially without Eduardo around to stop him. So, when he told me he’d quit, you were the only reason that made sense.”

“Ever since my Mamá passed, I tried to change things – or control them, at least. Anything to not feel that…helpless again. But it didn’t work like that. Walking away was the only choice left.”

“But it was a choice you both made. That can’t have been easy. I may not have known you very long, but it’s already clear to me you’re good for each other.”

“Even though I’m a gringo?”

“We all have our flaws.” Not only did Elena catch the humour in Javier’s eyes, but she matched and surpassed it with her own. “But to answer your question properly…I would say the complicated histories of our homelands have more in common than meets the eye.”

Javier hummed as he had flashbacks to high school of learning about Laredo starting life as a Spanish colonial settlement before a bloody tug-of-war between Mexico and America – and independence from both – had broken out. There was no denying he had benefited from certain privileges of owning an American passport, and he’d always accepted the gringo label without much pushback. But deep down, he knew it was only half the story.

“You’ve shown each other new paths,” Elena continued. “Safer and happier ones. And that’s what counts.”

“Not quite sure what my new path is yet, to be honest. I’ve spent so long running away from Laredo. I’ve forgotten what it means to live there.”

“It took me a long time to accept my place was here now rather than Medellín. Whenever there was a bombing, or a shooting, or a kidnapping, I had to stop myself from getting on a plane. But Horacio worried I’d be a target because of him. He didn’t want me there. And what could I have done anyway?” Elena let out a self-deprecating huff at the mere thought.

“You wanted to protect your son.”

“Yes. But it wasn’t just that. Medellín was my home and my work. And many of Eduardo’s friends and colleagues were killed. Their wives were sisters to me after his death. But I couldn’t return the favour from down here. Not in the same way, at least. I sent cards, flowers, food parcels, even money sometimes. But it never felt enough.”

“It never does.”

“No. It doesn’t. But I did what I could. And being there for Alejandra and the kids made me feel useful. I got involved with the church again. Worked for a small charity. Even though we’ve been protected from the violence here, the repercussions of it spread far and wide. So many displaced families in need. At least I was making a difference somewhere.”

“I thought I was making a difference. And maybe sometimes I was. But I don’t think it was ever really my fight.”

“Perhaps not. But maybe it helped lead you to the right one.”

“Maybe.”

Javier’s mind drifted back to the family history his Pops told him over the phone in Madrid, not just about his Mamá but his grandparents too. Not to mention all his Pops had done for the local community over the years. He thought of the stories Señora Romero had shared and the kindness she had shown him and Horacio. They had all made a difference in their own ways. And they had done it without leaving their cities, let alone their countries.

As Elena excused herself to ensure Mateo and Sofía weren’t starting another civil war in the kitchen, Javier nursed his coffee cup and surveyed the meandering scenery below. For the first time since he told Stechner to go fuck himself, he could see the outline of a path emerging in front of him. He wasn’t exactly sure where it was leading yet, but at least it was something. Something closer to home.

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

Their last day in Manizales came faster than Horacio had expected, presumably a side effect of waiting for the other shoe to drop any minute. Miraculously, it never did.

“Knock knock.”

Horacio looked up from the bed where he was wrestling with the zip of his suitcase – and currently losing. “Morning.” Another tug, but it wouldn’t shift. “You just gonna watch me?”

“Because you’re usually so good at accepting help.” With a dry smile and shake of the head, Alejandra came to the rescue with less heavy-handedness than her brother, unjamming the zip in seconds.

“I’m better than I was.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“And thank you, by the way.” Horacio stood up, lifting the case from the bed and bringing himself face-to-face with his sister. “For everything.”

Alejandra nodded, maintaining eye contact with Horacio long enough to be distracted by the sunlight dancing across the gold chain around his neck. “It suits you.”

“Thanks. Better than it collecting dust in a box.”

“I don’t just mean the necklace.”

The subtle glow of Horacio's pupils mirrored Alejandra's before he stepped forward, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Take care of yourself, okay?” He leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head.

“You too. And don’t leave it so long next time.”

“We won’t. I promise.”

“If it helps, I can sweeten the deal with a stay at one of the hot springs around here. They’re always giving me freebies for supplying their coffee. One of them has private thermal pools and everything.”

“You don’t have to bribe me to visit.” However, the thought of it being him, Javier, and a jacuzzi was enough for him to re-think his position on taking bribes. “Plus, I wanna see what you do with the place.”

“So you can take inspiration?”

Horacio rolled his eyes. “You wish. If you think you can handle the Texan climate, you know where we’ll be.”

“Don’t worry, I can and I will.”

“We about ready?” Javier appeared in the doorway with the rest of their luggage, pausing at the threshold. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Again.

“It’s okay; your boyfriend was just inviting us all to the ranch.”

It had only been an innocuous comment, but Alejandra managed to stop both men in their tracks with one word, a bashful look passing between them at the novelty of it.

“Oh, er, that’s great. The more the merrier.” Javier recovered just in time, although the flush in his cheeks showed no sign of abating. “My Pops always makes enough food for the population of Texas, so you’d be more than welcome.”

“Likewise here, Javier. As long as you bring more aguardiente next time.” She winked and drew him in for a hug.

“I think that can be arranged.” Javier broke away first so he could look at Alejandra properly. “And thank you…for everything this week.”

Alejandra gave a bob of the head once more, her smile widening as she glanced from Javier to Horacio, the depth of their gratitude beyond words but written all over their faces. “It’s what big sisters are for.”

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

After eating enough breakfast to last them for most of their journey to Medellín – the rest supplemented by Elena’s homemade empanadas and cocadas – they were stood back on the front porch again.

There was a chorus of goodbyes this time, ones that didn’t have the foreboding air of finality about them as they had done in the past.

Horacio allowed his Mamá to clutch him with all her strength, the scent of her perfume transporting him straight back to childhood.

“You take care of each other, you hear? And keep me updated on your visa. You know where I am if you need anything.”

“Don’t worry, Mamá. I will.”

“Y no olvide su español.” (And don’t forget your Spanish)

“No lo haré, Mamá.” (I won’t, Mamá) Horacio barely managed to suppress a tone of amused exasperation, given that he had been surrounded by almost as many Spanish voices in Laredo as in Colombia.

“Javier, you heard all of that. So, don’t let him forget.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Javier received the same treatment as Horacio with a bracing hug.

“Don’t be a stranger, Mijo. And don’t fret about finding that path. Just remember to follow your heart.” 

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

The light was fading fast, leaving behind a watercolour blend of ambers, yellows and reds that blazed against a backdrop of purple haze and the ethereal silhouette of ancient mountains. The glimmer of city life below felt distant, as though they had left this world altogether and now lived above the clouds.

Which was fine by them as they caught their breath; Horacio draped over Javier’s lap in the passenger’s seat, the culmination of their release glistening across their stomachs.

“Just like old times,” Horacio panted as trails of kisses became interspersed with heady laughter.

“Well, not exactly.” Javier’s thumb and forefinger delicately held the silver and gold pendants at their chests before untangling the chains that had become knotted during their tryst.

“No.” Horacio brought his forehead to meet Javier’s, an instant tonic to the painful twinge gripping their hearts as memories of their last visit to this spot resurfaced. “I told you we’d make up for lost time this past week, though.”

“Yeah, I figured you meant in the hotel. Or even back in Madrid. Not the minute you parked up in Medellín.”

“Like you were complaining.”

“Fuck, no, I wasn’t. Less likely to be overheard up here than in the hotel anyway.”

Once Horacio had regained enough feeling in his limbs to dismount and sit back in the driver’s seat, Javier reached for the glove box. He took out their emergency stash of cigarettes and lit up.

Horacio attempted to clean himself up as best he could and did the same for Javier. “So, this is why you brought those with us.” He nodded towards the cigarettes.

“Obviously.” Javier took a long drag and exhaled with a deep sigh, his body latching on quickly to the nicotine, his mind still blitzed.

They passed their shared smoke back and forth in comfortable silence, basking in their afterglows and the aftermath of the last few days.

“You still like it up here then?” Horacio asked after stubbing out the butt in the ashtray between them.

“Yeah, I do. Don’t think I’ve ever seen it looking so beautiful.”

“Me neither. Funny how the same view can look completely different in a new light.”

Javier hummed in agreement, their gaze now fixed on each other rather than the windshield, the irony not lost that they were back in the same spot where it could easily all have ended.

"I can think of a way to make it even better, though.”

“Go on.”

In a flurry of movement, Javier zipped up his jeans, pulled on his shirt and got out of the car. He rustled around in the trunk until he retrieved a couple of spare towels they had packed for emergencies, along with their jackets. It wasn’t quite the thick blanket from the ranch, but at least it was a mild night.

They sprawled out on the grass behind the car, lying atop the towels and wrapped in their jackets. Javier propped his head on a folded sweater with Horacio resting against his chest at an angle that allowed them both to take in the cityscape below.

“How about we just stay here forever?” Javier rasped between slow, sensual kisses.

Horacio moaned against Javier’s lips as he went back for more. “Don’t tempt me. At least we didn’t book an early flight tomorrow.”

“Good point.” Another string of kisses, each more addictive than the last.

“Although,” Horacio began once they had calmed down, his fingers tracing patterns across Javier’s torso, "we’ve got a lot to sort out once we’re back in Madrid.”

“I know. But at least we ripped off the band-aid.” One of Javier’s hands found Horacio’s and slotted their fingers together.

“I spent so much energy worrying about this trip; I was almost expecting something bad to happen.”

Javier raised their linked hands to his mouth and brushed his lips over Horacio’s knuckles. “But it didn’t.”

“No. In fact…I think I know what I want to do with the money.”

“Oh yeah?”

“If you and your father agree to it, that is. And I can find a good lawyer.”

Javier lifted his head slightly and turned in Horacio's direction, urging him to continue.

“I was thinking….what if we bought the corn farm? The three of us, I mean.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah. I think I am.” Horacio couldn’t help but laugh now he’d said it out loud. “Like I said, I’d need to check everything with a lawyer about my visa first. But there is an option for investors. And you still have some of your money from the ranch, right?”

“Yeah, I do. And obviously, you can count me in. But…shit, Horacio. Are you sure? I mean, it’s your inheritance.”

“It's nothing Alejandra isn't doing with her share. And well, if your father bought it outright, an empty cottage would go to waste on our doorstep. Last I looked, it needed a bit of maintenance, but it wasn’t in bad shape.”

Now, it was Javier’s turn to laugh. “Got it all figured out, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s funny, ‘cos, er...I’ve been thinking, too. About something your Mamá said.”

“About what?”

“About looking closer to home for a new path. And I think I might have found it.”

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

They only meant to stay until they got too cold, but their shared body heat let them doze until sunrise. The watercolour skyline re-emerged from behind the mountain tops, gradually bathing Medellín in a heavenly half-light, stirring them awake as it reached their hideaway.

The plan was to freshen up and have breakfast at the hotel before dropping off the hire car and heading to the airport after lunch. But there was something Horacio needed to do whilst the city wasn’t fully awake, whilst the low sun felt like a gift from God Himself.

As they pulled up a stone’s throw away from Horacio’s old family church – a few blocks down from his childhood home and former apartment that Trujillo had cleared after his hasty exit from Carlos Holguín – Javier hesitated, unsure if this was something Horacio needed to do alone.

“Come with me,” Horacio said after stepping out of the car as though he had read Javier’s mind. “Please.”

That was all the confirmation Javier needed to follow.

They walked silently along a well-kept pathway that forked off in multiple directions. It was maze-like and disorientating, but Horacio took purposeful strides despite how long it had been since his last visit.

He halted at a large marble slate engraved with a crucifix and the CNP emblem. There were some dried old flowers in a vase at the base of it, where Horacio knelt down and swapped them for the fresh bunch of marigolds he’d carried from the car.

“A gift from Mamá,” he whispered. “She’ll be back again soon.”

Horacio remained on the grass and brought his hands up to the back of his neck, where he unhooked the gold chain. He studied it between his fingers, then clasped it in his palm and bowed his head.

The cemetery was empty at this time in the morning, the loud rustling in the trees drowning out the murmur of traffic beginning to burst into life.

Javier watched wordlessly a few feet behind Horacio, almost beginning to feel like he was intruding.

“Pray with me.”

“Are you sure? What if someone –”

“I’m sure. No one’s here but us.”

Javier checked around them once, then twice, just in case. Even if someone did happen to come by, two men praying over a grave wasn’t exactly the most compromising position they could be found in. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

Once satisfied, Javier joined Horacio on the grass. They couldn’t get away with how they had done this in private, but Horacio dropped his right hand to the floor beside him, palm outstretched.

Javier took the hint and discreetly placed his left hand over the top, encasing the gold necklace between them.

With heads lowered and eyes closed, they prayed. An unspoken acknowledgement of all they had lost and how it had led them here. They honoured memories made, those that would never be, and those they could still make together despite everything.

Horacio’s eyes fluttered open as the sunlight fell on the headstone above him, forcing him to blink away a glassy sheen. His hand stayed connected with Javier’s on the earth, his present and future by his side, giving him strength to finally make peace with his past.

He rose to his feet and made the sign of the cross on his chest before running his fingers along the embossed letters of his father’s name. “Te quiero mucho, Papá.”

Javier gave as much time as was needed until risking a gentle squeeze of Horacio’s shoulder. “You ready?”

Horacio looked from the gravestone to Javier, the charcoal of his irises burning with the fire of conviction. “I’m ready.”

[t4kalcvr]

BEHIND THE PHONE — s. kita smau

[ posted : June 30, 10:30 p.m. ]

CHAPTER 8. The Talk.

“Y/n, c'mon I just- we need go talk right quick. Like a serious one,” Daichi was trying to convince you that he did not mean the talk in a way an actual parent would.

You sighed as you sat back down on the bed, pillows scattered everywhere to keep him away from you. “Fine, go ahead, give me ‘the talk’!” you added air quotes to give your exaggeration a bit of effect.

Daichi gave a long sigh as you both faced each other and he carefully grabbed your hands. “Y/n, you know I love you right?” he began, you nodded with a hum, indicating for him to continue. “You need a boyfriend.” he ever so bluntly stated.

Your jaw dropped almost instantly at the claim, you stammered a little before speaking a full sentence, “WHAT!? I do NOT need anyone, thank you very much!” you were quite offended and Daichi could see that, so he quickly cleared up his intentions.

“Not like that you dummy, I'm not saying you need someone to depend on. I'm saying you have a lot of love to give to someone and you're too picky that you don't!” he took a breath before opening his mouth again, this time you weren't eager for it, “Chizuko...” he stopped breathing as he spoke.

You knew why, he and Chizuko never really bonded well. Sure they did a good job not displaying that but they were always iffy with each other because they both wanted to protect you from everyone. It never bothered you and they never put you between it, they were both incredibly mature and it never caused issues. You loved both of them dearly for that.

Daichi took a second breath as he continued, “Chizuko is with you more than me,” and you could tell that hurt him to admit. “But we both see the way you look at people and behave around them, even through a screen,” he looked you directly in your eyes as he spoke.

“Daichi...” you sighed. You could feel where he was going with this.

“You don't need to keep hiding your face, y/n.” Daichi furrowed his brows in concentration, making sure you couldn't interrupt him. “You’re beautiful and Kita thinks that too, I know he does.”

Daichi grinned as he saw your face light up with a bright red color, usually, you would've said something snarky like “well I don't need a man's opinion” or “I don't need you to tell me that” but Kita? He knew. It was truly rare for you to lose your mind over a guy you've seen once.

He knew you cared what someone would think one day. And although it's not normally a good thing, he couldn't wait for you to meet or have that person. And although he poorly knows Kita besides volleyball-related activities, he knows he's a good guy.

“Why would I- what does that- no!” you finally spoke. Daichi chuckled at your reaction, priceless.

“Y/n, c'mon!” he exhaled, “Go on a date with this guy...” he paused to think up a random day, “Sunday!”

You inhaled, you were going to say no but if he was insisting without even mentioning you asking him out, did he already have this planned? You sighed before putting on a small smile. “Fine, but I'm not the one who's starting this!” your blush deepened.

“You don't have to! I promise!” Daichi laughed as he wiggled your hands in excitement.

You really couldn't believe how Daichi was the one insisting on this. He and Chizuko being the protective type? You kinda wondered what she would think about this right now.

But you kinda couldn't focus on those thoughts because Daichi was giggling and hopping around like a little gossip girl. You loved when he turned into a supportive older sister.

[ text after photos! ]

And despite everything going well for everyone and you being nothing but excited and anxious for Sunday, it didn’t cross your mind about how two posts could make a certain oreo haired boy assume…

“Oh…” he flicked his phone off before setting it down beside him as he laid in his messy sheets…

… he never had a chance.

previous // master list // next

Note :: I was hoping to sneak a little angst in here and I found the opportunity so i took it, also this was kinda last minute so i’m sorry if it sucks! i also decided to add a few more less displayed things and stuff so this chapter was basically MADE on impulse so i’m definitely sorry if it didn’t make sense! i was really in the zone :’)

Tag List 🏷️ :: @idkanymorebuthere @iamapotat @midnightemy35

[broiderie]

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 26

Well don't kill me. Here's part 26. It's a bit of lead up.

Personal note - I'm now on some serious heart medication due to reoccurring heart issues, so I'm a little foggy. Things may be a bit slower than they used to be even though I hoped to stick to my previous posting of about a chapter a week. That's not working out very well. It's taking me longer to get my ideas on paper and then even longer to get them typed. Please be patient with me.

Warnings: cursing (maybe), show level casual illegal activity, Angel being a menace.

Also - don't steal my shit. This is the only place this is posted.

Taza, Hank, Megan and Rex quickly joined the rest of the club inside. “Morning, Poquito, Hank, Taza. You look like you’re going somewhere important,” Bishop greeted them as he claimed a morning hug from Megan. “What’s the plan today?”

Hank smiled ruefully. “Ask la princessa. She’s the one that’s insistent about it.”

Megan, who had moved on to giving Marcus his morning greeting, shot him a look over her good shoulder.

“Really now, Bebita? What’s he mean?” Marcus asked, looking down at her as he hugged her close. 

Megan sighed. “We’re going to see the doctor in Santa Madre for an x-ray. I want this sling off so I can have my life back.”

Creeper frowned from the bar stool where he was perched. “Didn’t the rez doctor say no?”

Megan grimaced. “He said not quite, but that was with the plaster cast. The soft cast and the immobilizing sling mean it’s been resting more than it had been. Some progress has to have been made.”

Bishop nodded and sat down at one of the tables with a cup of coffee. “How’s the pain?”

“Honestly - so much better. I haven’t had so much as an aspirin and it just feels achey and stiff,” she assured him.

“How achey?” Bishop asked again.

“More than a post workout ache but less than a set dislocated shoulder ache. I honestly think I’d be fine without the sling for the most part. I can always put it back on if it hurts.” She shrugged her good shoulder.

There was a collective wince from the elders at her description.

“What the hell, Shorty. How’d you know what a dislocated shoulder feels like, huh?” Angel asked, giving her a skeptical look.

“Angel - I rode in rodeos. Not a rider I know who hasn’t dislocated at least one shoulder once. In my event - that was the price of a mistake,” she smiled. “And a small price to pay rather than a broken leg or back.”

“Shit, Ma. And you did that shit for fun?” Coco added, puffing on his cigarette. 

“Well, the money was nice too.”

“Holy shit. No wonder you didn’t freak out about the pain.” Coco ashed the cigarette in his hand. “Y’all need someone to ride along?”

“Nah. Thanks, Coco. We’re good, I think. Just a quick run for an x-ray,” Hank assured him as he settled into a chair across the table from Taza.

“Besides- like Creep said - the rez doc didn’t think she was healed enough yet. Good possibility it’s still too early but la princessa is impatient,” Taza said with a grin in Megan’s direction. SHe stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well, we have Angel and EZ doing the Adelita meet today. They’re going South anyway. Might as well go along with you so they don’t have to walk from the desert,” Bishop said. He turned to look at EZ where he was polishing glasses. “Prospect, you better do your memory shit. Poquito could only arrange for the two of you. We’ll hold Templo tonight so everyone gets read in at once.”

EZ nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“And don’t fuck it up,” Hank added.

Taza agreed. “You two fuck up  this gun deal… Neither of you can afford it. The club can’t afford it.”

Both brothers nodded solemnly. 

It wasn’t even an hour laters that they met at the dress warehouse hatch. By now they had this to a science. EZ carried Rex. The ladder was difficult for Megan on handed, so Hank went first so he could catch her if she slipped. Taza stayed at the top guiding her down as far as he could maintain his balance. 

The tunnel itself wasn’t too bad. The terrain was a bit rough, but nothing Megan couldn’t handle with the help of the lights and either Taza or Hank’s guiding hand on her good arm. 

THe hatch on the other end, however, was the bane of her existence. The ladder was built for much taller men so the rungs were further apart and roughly built. They weren’t evenly spaced either. When they reached it Megan sighed. She had slipped every time at this end.

“What’s wrong, Princessa?” EZ asked. “Need a break?” He handed her a bottle of water from the backpack he was carrying. 

Megan shot him a rueful smile and sipped it. “More like an elevator. I hate this ladder.”

Taza grimaced. “We’ll get a new one soon, Chica. Just gotta deal until then.”

Angel eyed the ladder. “Bet me and the boyscout could get you up it easier.”

Hank frowned a bit and tugged Megan to rest against his chest a moment. “What do you mean, Angel?”

“We got Creep up it pretty easy when he needed the doc. Megan’s a lot smaller.” Angel shrugged. “Same way we used to get shit into the attic for Pops.”

EZ broke into a wide grin. “You might be right.”

Taza shrugged a bit as he glanced at Megan. “What do you say, Chica? Want to let them try it?”

Megan eyed the hated ladder, before turning to eye the brothers. “Promise not to drop me?”

Angel gave a sardonic laugh. “And risk getting shot? We won’t drop you, Shorty.”

“Alright then. How’re we doing this?” she asked.

Angel grinned. “Taza, you and EZ go first. Once you’re up, EZ lays on the floor to lift la princessa with Taza to anchor him. Megan gets on my shoulder an’ EZ pulls her out. Simple. Reyes Brothers Elevator.”

Hank chuckled and shook his head, amazed at the simplicity of it. “I’ll help steady you, mi amore. This way you don’t risk falling like yesterday.” The day before, Megan had been lucky Hank was behind her for the ladder. He’d had to catch her twice.

Just like Angel outlined, Taza and EZ went first with EZ carrying Rex. Taza paid the toll while the prospect laid down and hung his top half through the hatch. Taza anchored his legs as Hank helped Angel get Megan onto his shoulders and steadied her as he stood. Then EZ locked his arm and pulled Megan up until Taza could help her out of the hatch. In the end, EZ was breathing a little heavy, but the near disaster of the day before had been averted. Angel and Hank then climbed up to join them. 

“Thanks Angel and EZ. That was much easier on my end,” Megan said, smiling at the brothers. 

Angel gave a slightly cocky grin. “Anything for la princessa de los Mayas, right Prospect?”

EZ laughed a little and straightened his kutte. “Right.”

Once they reached the town, Angel and EZ dropped them off at the storefront where the doctor kept an office upstairs and headed out to the coordinates Luisa had sent to the burner phone in Angel’s pocket. 

“Alright, Chica. Let’s go get this x-ray and find out how you’re doing. After, we can go find something to do until Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum get back,” Taza said with a grin.

Hank led the way up the narrow stairs and paused at the top to smile back at Megan. “You ready, mi amore?”

Megan smiled a little nervously. “You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course, Princessa.” He chuckled a little. “We’d have to anyway - Doc doesn’t speak English.”

Inside, Taza spoke with a man quietly in Spanish as Megan leaned into Hank’s side. The conversation wasn’t very long before the man smiled at Megan and waved her forward. 

Megan turned to look at Taza. 

“He just wants to take the sling off and feel for the break before he x-rays you, Chica,” Taza assured her. 

Hank guided her forward and worked the sling straps on her back to release them. Once the sling was off, he sat her on the narrow wooden table while holding her good hand.

The doctor approached with his hands held calmingly out in front of him. He gently pressed along her collarbone. He looked at Hank and asked something. 

“Mi reina, he wants to know if it hurts when he touches it,” Hank translated. 

“No. It’s a little achey, but that’s just the stiffness I think,” Megan said. 

The doctor nodded as Taza translated what was said. He gestured for Hank to step away from Megan and rolled a camera looking machine in front of her before holding a metal panel behind her shoulder. Megan fought the urge to giggle as she realized that the x-ray machine was a portable vet tool. 

The doctor took the shots that he needed before indicating that he’d be back in a moment. 

As soon as he was out of the room, Megan lost the battle with her giggles. Both men grinned at her. 

“What’s so funny, Chica?” Taza asked, amused at her reaction to this doctor. He had expected nerves or even some defiance like he’d seen the other times doctors had looked at her. 

“Papa, he’s not a doctor, is he? He’s a vet,” Megan bit her lip to stifle her laugh.

Hank burst out laughing while Taza stared at her for a moment before joining in. 

“How’d you know, Princessa?” Hank asked as he moved to support her still splinted arm through her laughing fit.

“The x-ray machine gave it away. And he wasn’t exactly concerned that he couldn’t talk to me directly. Plus - he came at me like I was going to cow kick him if he surprised me.”

Taza laughed again. “You’re right. He’s a farm vet. We didn’t want to scare you with him not being a ‘real’ doctor, so we just didn’t say anything.”

Megan smiled mischievously. “Well - for future reference - I’d much rather the vet than the hospital any day.”

An hour or so later they were walking down the narrow steps to the street level again with Megan’s sling tucked into a bag. The doctor had given the go ahead to remove the sling as long as she wasn’t using her arm too much and there wasn’t a lot of pain. He’s also provided Hank with a refill of the ibuprofen - just in case.

Once on the street, they decided to head to a small restaurant down the street to wait for the Reyes brothers and have lunch. 

Taza ordered for them at the counter while Hank and Megan found a table in a spot where they could see the door. Megan kept rolling her right shoulder until Hank gently rubbed his hand down her spine and across her shoulders. “Are you alright, mi reina?” he asked her as he did it. 

Megan gave a soft groan of relief as Hank rubbed. Hank chuckled at the noise as she answered. “I’m fine. Just stiff.” She paused, arching her back into his rubbing hand. “That feels so good.”

Hank laughed again and scooted his chair back from the table. “Come ‘ere, Princessa. Let me help.” He tugged her to sit in his lap facing him and leaned her forward against his chest so he could gently rub the knots from her back that the sling caused. 

Megan melted against him as the firm pressure released her muscles even through her kutte and holster. 

Hank grinned as Taza came to the table with two trays of food and drinks. His smile assured Taza that nothing was seriously wrong. 

Taza placed the trays on the table and took his seat across from her. “Everything alright?” he asked quietly. 

Megan nodded from where her face was buried in between Hank’s neck and shoulder but made  no move to get up. She let out another quiet moan that only Hank could hear as he hit a particularly nice spot. 

Hank chuckled again and tried not to think about it too much. He liked that noise. He met Taza’s eyes. “Yeah. She’s just stiff and her back muscles are in knots from the sling. 

Taza laughed a little. “So that’s why she’s practically purring.” 

Hank grinned. He tilted his chin to kiss Megan’s hair. “Your papa brought lunch. You ready to eat?” he asked her. 

Megan whined a little, but nodded before lifting her head. Hank helped her to settle back into her chair with a laugh. “A hot shower when we get home will help, mi amore.”f

As they ate, they made plans for the rest of the day. They had Templo when they got back to discuss the deal with the L.O. but after that no plans had been made. 

“Well, your tíos and I need to meet after Templo to do some book work, so I’ll be tied up for the night. What are your plans, Chica?” Taza asked as he discreetly added more rice to Megan’s plate while she was distracted. 

“Don’t know. I need to let Riz know to put me back on the schedule since the sling is off, but I also know that he’s already got this week’s schedule posted. I looked this morning,” Megan said as she ate the taco she'd fixed from the communal plates Taza had ordered them. “Will you be in meetings too, Hank?”

Hank sipped his soda and shook his head. “Nah. All my book stuff is done for the next two weeks.” He leaned back in his chair and slid his arm along the back of Megan’s. “Now that your sling’s off - would you want to do something tonight?”

Megan’s eyes sparkled. “Like a date?”

Hank laughed. “Yes. Like an actual date, mi princessa. Nothing too fancy, but a date.”

Megan bounced a little in her chair. “Yes!”

Taza grinned at her enthusiasm. “There we go. I’ll be home late too, so don’t wait up for me.”

“Would you keep Rex for the night?” Hank asked, petting the big dog’s ears under the table. “I thought we might take the bike.”

Megan lit up further “Really?”

“If your papa doesn’t mind.”

Megan turned to him with her big, brown eyes pleading.

“Yes. I’ll keep the pooch - if you promise to stay with Hank, Chica. I like you having him as an extra line of defense when you’re out, so you have to promise not to do anything stupid,” Taza stipulated. 

“I promise, Papa.”

“Alright then. You two will have date night while the pooch and I work late.”

Hank’s burner beeped from his kutte pocket. He pulled it out and checked it without removing his arm from Megan’s chair. “Angel and the Prospect are back in town.”

“Perfect timing. Let’s go home.”

They met the brothers back where they’d split up. Angel quickly abandoned the driver's seat to Taza and Megan got shotgun with Hank behind her. 

At the hatch, this time Taza went first followed by Megan. It was much easier without the sling. She managed to slip once, but caught herself. Once they were at the bottom, EZ frowned at the ladder. “That thing really does need fixed. La Princessa shouldn’t have to struggle with it every time. Especially since she’s going to be dealing with this trip a lot as the armorer,” he said.

“Glad you volunteer, Prospect,” Hank agreed. “You can start on it tomorrow.”

Megan giggled a little as she caught her breath in the close confines of the tunnel but petting Rex.

“You good, Shorty? Didn’t bust nothin’ when you slipped, did ya?” Angel asked.

Megan stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m fine. Just missed a rung.”

“Alright. Just checkin’. No harm in that,” Angel grinned a bit. “Hey Boyscout - maybe you need to use that big brain of yours to figure out a lift, huh? That way la princessa doesn’t break a nail.”

Megan smacked Angel in the chest with the back of her good hand and laughed. “You suck, Angel.”

“That’s why the women love me.”

Megan wrinkled her nose. “Eeewwww. TMI.”

Angel cracked up. “You asked for it.”

Taza shook his head with an exasperated chuckle and shoved Angel forward along the tunnel. “Get going before you scar my daughter for life.”

They made their way back to the Northern hatch where they all climbed out into the dress warehouse with EZ helping to lift Rex through the door. They were all a little dusty, but none the worse for wear.

Back at the clubhouse, Megan proudly walked in without her sling to find Bishop and Marcus relaxing at a table with a few beers.

“Well look at you, Poquito. Doctor freed you?” Bishop asked, standing to claim a hug.

Megan stepped into his embrace with a smile. “Still gotta wear the soft cast and be easy with it, but he cleared me to lose the sling.”

“Good. That’ll make dance lessons easier,” Marcus said as he got his own hug,

“Among other things,” Megan agreed. 

“Is everyone here?” Hank asked.

“Waiting on Riz. He went to help Vickie with something,” Bishop said, taking his seat back.

Taza and Hank joined them as Angel split off to the bar where Coco and Gilly were waiting. EZ went to fetch drinks automatically as Hank pulled Megan onto his knee. 

“He needs to hurry up. La Princessa and her caballero have a date tonight,” Taza said, accepting the beer from EZ.

Marcus grinned. “Finally going to take Poquito somewhere, Tranq?”

Hank grinned. “That’s the plan if nothing fucking it up this time.”

Bishop looked over his shoulder at where Angel was sipping on his own beer. “We’ll be fine for one night, brother. Take Poquito out tonight. If shit hits the fan - it can wait until tomorrow for you.” He grinned. “Now, that being said - you have planning to do. So get to it. Poquito - did the doctor say when the soft cast can come off?”

Hank chuckled and pressed a kiss to the place where Megan’s neck met her shoulder before sliding out from in under her. He watched as Megan settled into his seat and got distracted by her tío’s question before slipping out to the front porch. 

Megan smiled at Bishop. “Tío, why’re you asking me? You know very well the doctor doesn’t speak English.”

Bishop laughed and nodded. “You’re right. You’re right. So what did your papa tell you he said?”

“Still another three weeks or so - as long as I don’t do anything stupid. I kind of think Papa added that part on though,” Megan teased.

Taza laughed. “I paraphrased. That’s all Chica.”

They chatted amicably for a bit before Angel came over to ask to speak to Bishop and Taza alone for a minute in Templo. That left Megan with Marcus.

“Have you heard anything from Tía Diana and Tessa?” Megan asked. “I haven’t heard much since they left.”

Marcus sat forward at the table to smile at her. He leaned his forearms there and smiled. “Yeah. I heard from them at about lunch time. They’re probably still on the road though. Tessa doesn’t have much patience for car rides, so Diana will stop often to let her stretch.” He fiddled with his beer bottle a bit. “I talked to your tía about the move. She agrees that it’s probably best for everyone if I pause my patch for a bit.”

Megan reached across the table to squeeze his fingers. “And you? What do you think?”

He squeezed back before meeting her eyes. “I think she’s right. It makes the most sense, Bebita.”

“Then why the hesitation?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know who I am without this kutte, Poquito. I’ve been wearing it so long it’s practically my skin at this point.” He sighed. “I’m struggling with letting go.”

“I understand. It’s like leaving rodeo was for me.” She fiddled with his signet ring, “But Tío, you aren’t leaving for good. It’s just like recon.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. We’ll make the call at the Templo after this one. I want to be sure the gun deal is solid first. Besides - this way nothing is on Hank’s mind tonight except you. Finally getting a real date night, huh? You gonna let him show out?”

Megan laughed and sat back. “You mean I could stop him?”

“Good point.”

Bishop and Taza returned with very serious faces. Megan sat up straight in alarm. “Papa? Everything alright?”

“Sí, Chica. Angel just had some information for us.” He pressed a reassuring kiss to the top of her head before resuming his seat. “Your tío is going to take care of it before Templo.”

Bishop nodded and gathered Gilly and Creeper before riding out. 

“Anything I need to know, Hermano?” Marcus asked.

Taza shook his head. “Nah. Charter issue.”

Marcus nodded. 

When Bishop and the others returned, Bishop’s face was like a thundercloud and Riz was with them. Hank followed them in from the front porch too. Bishop didn’t even have to say anything. He just grabbed the whiskey bottle and a glass and headed for Templo. Everyone followed.

taglist:

@jemmakates

@msjava1972

@drabbles-mc

@delightfulheroshoeflap

@iamthegraham

@oureternalbond

@camelia35

@anaeve

@tallrock35

If you would like to be added to the taglist - please let me know.

[mayimkjs]

FOOL's MATE Update Post #6

Master Post　　Last Update

School Date: Fall, Term 9, Week 7

Props & Costumes

I preordered TRANSFORM a bit ago, so that should be shipped at the end of the month or the beginning of next month. I also started to finish gathering props I want for the set that I need to order from Japan. I really just need some keychains (Jackalope, Haruka, Muu, Mahiru, Kazui & Kotoko) and an Es/Jackalope acrylic stand. So if you have any of those you would like to sell, DM me. I'm also thinking of commissioning a like minded individual, if he dose commissions, to make a set piece.

I started to put together some costume stuff. My plan is to have 3 costumes. The first is a simplified Es cosplay. It'll be somewhere between what the hallucinations costume and their actual design. None of the gold details and maybe I'll get a hat. The second is the original costume I was planning; Mikoto's outfit in MeMe. Then the third is his main outfit minus the straight jacket. That's just an extra costume for if I end up having to shoot in the studio for multiple days. I also just need the shoes and shirt for this.

Set

So a bit ago, my docu professor asked if I wanted to use any of the criminal justice rooms for a set. At the time, I had no plans to. But I got to thinking, what it the intro and outro are formatted similarly to the intros in "From the Earth to the Moon". If you haven't seen it (please watch it, it's really good), Tom Hanks walks in from out of frame and walks towards the camera while talking about the premise of the episode. So I was thinking, what it I do something like that using one of those rooms as a set.

For some background info, my school cares a lot about ambiance. So all of the specialized rooms (and the medical wing) are designed to look like what that room would look like in the field. So the criminal justice department has a "forensics lab" that I could use.

I also pretty much have permissions for the studio I want already since I'm choosing to do it on a Saturday. I work in our equipment room, so I also have access to all of the equipment and can unlock the studio door myself.

I'm also hoping my best friend can participate since he's a criminal justice drop out (he didn't feel safe with that degree). So he will be able to provide some commentary from that perspective.

Staffing

I'm staring to work on staffing. This includes both on and off set staff. So far, I only have one person set in stone which is Kyle. Kyle is one of my classmates, but he's also one of my coworkers. So I'm "forcing" him to be my Production Assistant (PA) for when I'm filming in the studio.

Part of this is looking for people to commission for both art and music. So I've been slowly DMing people on my list.

Organization & Paperwork

I reorganized parts of the Milanote document. I've also updated the source sheet. I've also started to make a glossary of terms used in the documentation, posts and docu itself. Comments are on to allow others to request words or acronyms they've seen me use. Comments will be wiped once I add whatever its suggesting.

Changes

Added

Birthday timeline convo

When was John born?

The MILGRAM Administrators Connections to the Id, Ego and Superego

Changed

Chapter 7 name

Expanded

What in Japan counts as murder?

Links

Research Doc (Comments on like always)

Milanote

Reddit Post

Feedback Form

Commission Form

Volunteer Form

[zuppizup]

Hiiii I just finished the first two chapters of Fuel the Pyre! I'm super excited for it, it's very well done!

I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about your writing process. How do you outline? What kinds of things need to be in an outline in order for you to visualize the story? Do you outline the entire story, one chapter, or just one scene at a time?

Thank you for your time!

Hello! Thanks so much for your kind words! I’m so happy you’re liking the fic so far.

This is a super fun ask. Not sure how coherent or helpful my response will be, but I’ll give it a try. 😆

So, stories like Purgatory, Fuel the Pyre or my WIP dark magic AU, always start out as a bunch of questions.

What if Ezran hadn’t interrupted Callum and Rayla in Viren’s study…

Could a human/elf halfling do primal magic? Can all of them or just a few? What would control that?

What would the world be like if dark magic actually was controlled and regulated.

I usually don’t start out planning a fic when I ponder questions like this, it’s usually just my mind wandering. For me, while I love big, wonderful, imaginative worlds (like the world of The Dragon Prince) what I’m really more interested in is how these things affect individuals. I actually tend to visualise the story before I outline. In fact, I often visualise far beyond where I think I’ll finish the story. (I say where I think I’ll finish because both my current long fics are now firmly in the “after the end of the planned fic” territory)

So, in Fuel the Pyre, for example, I imagine there’s a lot of unknowns for the people involved. Halflings would be pretty new on the scene, all things considered, so the characters themselves wouldn’t have the answer to these questions, which felt like a great excuse to add tension and drama.

Once an idea has got me and I can imagine how that conflict is going to affect the characters, the general outline tends to sort of write itself. I am a planner, so I by the time I start putting pen to paper (so to speak), I’ll usually have a beginning, a rough middle and an end. There will be plot points, tangents, twists and sometimes side stories that I haven’t figured out, but I’ll have a plan for the general flow of the story.

From there, I’ll come up with a pretty messy draft. So, I just sort of go wild in a document. Usually, when I’ve decided I want to write a longer fic, it’s because certain scenes just play on repeat in my head, so I’ll indulge myself and write those out. Then I’ll go back and make rough chapter/arc notes, which usually leads into some other fun scenes I get inspired to write, and slowly, piece by piece, I sort of string the fic together like that.

I used to outline more linearly, starting at the first chapter and working from there, but I found I’d get stuck on transition scenes (the bane of my writing life) and then avoid the fic. (If I put my fingers in my ears and sing very loudly, the transition scene can’t hurt me). I find letting myself write the scenes I’m excited for makes me much more productive. They usually give me ideas for other fun (I use the term loosely, I generally mean “angsty”) scenes and I essentially build my story like that. I do like adding foreshadowing and twists, which is made a lot easier by writing like this too.

In Purgatory, for example, I tried to drop a lot of subtle hints about Callum and his slowly building arcanum connection. It’s so fun when people pick up on that stuff, but I also don’t want it to look like I just pulled a twist or a revelation out of my rear. Nowadays, I do prefer to write the bulk of a story before posting, which this method obviously works better for.

Often, when I start a fic, the beginning and the ending are the most defined parts of the story and the middle is the area that requires the most work, but by stringing the various elements together, I sort of “discover” new conflicts and fun elements to explore, which (hopefully) makes for a richer, more entertaining story.

So, not sure if that was what you’re looking for, but if you could describe the stream of consciousness that is how I write, a process, this is mine. 😅

[dandylovesturtles]

Asking a handful of creators:

Do you save things that, for one reason or another, you never ended up posting? I always love seeing scrapped WIPs / deleted scenes / etc, and was just curious!

(Absolutely no pressure to post any of it, of course!)

Short answer: yes! If I decide to remove something from a WIP or if I abandon a WIP entirely, I still keep it, just in case I ever want to take some of the dialogue/narration and also just because I like to look back on it at times.

Slightly longer answer: I actually don't delete scenes very often from WIPs lol, usually once it's down it's down and I don't change it (other than small sentence changes, wording, reordering, etc). If I were writing a book I wanted to actually be published instead of a fanfic I'm releasing in intervals I would probably do a lot more editing, but for fanfic I usually have no interest in changing it too much.

I don't have many abandoned WIPs for ROTTMNT and I think I've already posted what little was written for the one or two I do have. I also think I already posted the original final fight scene in Corrupted Upgrade, if you want to check out that tag (since I completely ripped it out and rewrote it lol).

As far as other unused snippets, here's a bit from Chapter 4 of IMBI that I ended up changing because I didn't want Leo to have another panic attack. And what I ended up adding in was stronger, I feel like. If you go look at the chapter, it's right toward the end after Leo tells Mikey he's mad about the portal:

Leo swallowed hard around the sudden knot in his throat. So he’d been trying to open a portal to the past…

It gripped Leo again, how close he’d come to losing Mikey. The intense rush of fear and panic he’d felt, his desperation to do <i>something</i>. 

If Mikey’s plan had worked, he wouldn’t be sitting here in a cozy blanket nest, he’d be mourning his baby brother, and watching his family mourn them both. He shivered, the icy hand of fear wrapping around him and leaving him hollow and shaky.

“...Leo?”

Leo started, his surroundings coming back into focus. Mikey had moved so he was crouched in his direct line of sight, worry evident.

“...Oh wow,” he said. “I really scared you, huh?”

Leo nodded, his movements jerky. He wanted to reach out and touch him, but his hand just slipped right through, which didn’t help his distress.

“Are you having a panic attack?” Mikey’s voice was calm again, like it had been in the medbay. “Want me to get someone?”

He shook his head, to both questions. Focused on taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“Okay. We’re both still here, Leo.” Mikey laid his hand over the one Leo had reached out to him, their fingers blurring together. “We’re both still here.”

That’s right. He and Mikey were here. Raph and Donnie and Splinter were all in their rooms. April in her dorm, Casey at her parents’ house, their other friends and acquaintances safe in a New York that was still scuffed up but persisting with all its normal tenacity.

They were still here. 

Leo took a few more shaky breaths, then tapped the board. “No more portals.”

[unfortunatelycake]

20 Questions Writer Meme

Tagged by @snarkivistfic ! Thank you!

How many works do you have on AO3? 173 across 3 pseuds

What's your total AO3 word count? 3,600846

What fandoms do you write for? At present, mostly TGCF with a little MDZS. Previously One Punch Man, boueibu, plus random other anime

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Anon One Punch Man, Genos/Saitama, Rated M Genos has feelings for his sensei, and blogs about it 100 First Kisses One Punch Man, Genos/Saitama, Rated E Like it says on the tin. This one's 100k. Found in Silence, These Things Unheard One Punch Man, Genos/Saitama, Rated M A getting together fic, based around Genos coping with temporary deafness. Foolish Pretenders Heaven Official's Blessing, Feng Xin/Mu Qing, Rated E Fake dating with added idiocy. Begin Again Tokyo Ghoul, Hide/Sasaki + others, Rated E Hide happens to see Sasaki, and is certain he's Kaneki. Set during canon and written whilst the manga was still being published; this is my 'I fucking called it' fic because certain plot points ended up actually being canon lol

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes! Comments bring me life! The way I see it, if someone takes a moment to leave a comment - be it an emoji, a few words, or an entire essay, in any language - there's no reason I shouldn't take the time to show my appreciation for that by replying.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Love is Over Boueibu, Akoya/Arima, Rated T It's not all that angsty in comparison to angsty scenes in other fics I've written, but it's the angstiest ending.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? No idea. Most of my fics have happy endings lol

Do you get hate on fics? Only once. I ignored it.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes if the plot needs it. It isn't very good smut lmao

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I've only written one-- Love is Not a Subroutine! Boueibu/One Punch Man crossover, Genos/Saitama, En/Atsushi, Io/Ryuu, Rated T Genos and Saitama get zapped into the Boueibu universe, where they have to fight monsters with the power of love, rather than fists.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge

Have you ever had a fic translated? Someone asked to translate one of my fics once but I never heard anything about it after that. So no, I guess.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Started one with @anonymousedward but it kind of fell by the wayside and we both fell into different fandoms. It was a banger of an idea though!

What's your all-time favorite ship? This changes according to whatever fandom I'm in, so I'll pass on this question lol

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? There are 31 files in my 'abandoned wips' folder. I would very much like to finish all of them, but that's unlikely to happen. I guess I'd most like to finish a OPM soulmate AU, it's just a huge project and I haven't found the right kind of writing mojo to continue working on it.

What are your writing strengths? No shortage of ideas, I guess?

What are your writing weaknesses? They aren't always the right ideas. Also lack of discipline. I make a plan and don't stick to it. And many one-shots have ended up as multi-chaptered fics lmao

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I don't do it.

First fandom you wrote for? Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Favorite fic you've written? Aaaa I don't know. I was pleased with the vibe of Nightmare for All Seasons (Lost Souls, Steve/Ghost, Post-Canon, Rated T) and I have a soft spot for a whole bunch of my MDZS and OPM fics, but I was also super proud of Love is Sung in a Minor Key (Boueibu, Io/Ryuu + Akoya/Arima, Post-Canon/Bandman AU, Rated E) because I ended up not just writing fic, but lyrics too lol ...Neither of these fics are really good examples of the shit I usually write hahaha

Tagging: @mostlikelytofangirl @anonymousedward @batneko @rayadraws @10holmes @km-birdie @butterfliesandresistance if you wish to do it, no pressure though!

[modern-day-bard]

Worth The Feeling

Content Warning: 18+ This series contains explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 14

So it turns out that putting a wet bathing suit back on when you're still in the water is a task on par with starting a fire with nothing but two sticks. After I struggled for an embarrassing amount of time, much to Javi's amusement, he had handed me his white button down and my shorts. And even after everything, he made a point of looking the other way as I got out of the pool, which made me smile to myself. My smile grew as I got to watch him escort me back to the elevator, sans shirt.

I was thankful for that shirt this morning as Lana's alarm jolted me awake. It's the only thing reminding me that last night wasn't a dream. That, and the dull ache between my legs. I had to scramble to stuff it underneath my sheets before Lana got up. She had been sound asleep when I creeped in last night, and I'm still unsure of what to say to her. Especially since her worried expression last time we broached the conversation. We had gotten ready in a ghostlike state, the cloud of jet lag and long work days hanging over us both. I suppose luck was on my side once more since that meant I didn't have to answer any questions. Or perhaps she truly hadn't heard me come back. I could always tell her that I went out for a walk, but I had no idea how late she had gone to bed, and I'm already a bad liar as it is.

Now that I've been on set for several hours, I still don't have a plausible excuse for Lana. With her introspection, and my poor skills, it might be best to just tell her the truth. That, and lying to my best friend didn't feel that pleasant. Truthfully, most of my day has been so busy that this is the first time I've had the chance to think about it. I keep shifting on my feet, trying to stretch my legs. I must have gone up and down that same hill thirty times this morning as the rest of the crew prepped for the shoot. Though Dwayne said I would start shadowing him today, he had asked me to help out before the shoot first. It took all my remaining strength not to show my disappointment. It was mindless work, but dragging all of that stuff down to the beach again, the production designer having changed the set due to Lloyd's vision, it had me drenched in sweat before noon.

Finally, I am catching my breath next to Dwayne under one of the few umbrellas stationed on the beach. I realize quickly that today is going to be full of mostly observations, and not as much explanation as I hoped. I'm curious as to how he organizes all of us PAs throughout the day, beyond what I see from our side of things. However, most of my time spent under this umbrella has been watching Dwayne watch Alice, the first Assistant Director, and watching Alice watch Lloyd plan out how to begin the shoot. He's already run through about five separate potential visions of his before the talent starts arriving on the beach. My heart rate quickens, and despite the shade that I had been craving, I'm worried that I might start to sweat again.

I lean toward the table that Alice, Dwayne, and Lloyd have been hunched over for the past thirty minutes, pretending to be far more studious than I feel. Out of the corner of my eye, Emma, Javi, and Blake, along with their escorting PAs, step off of the hill's path and onto the beach. With a sudden twinge of mischief, I take one of the water bottles off of the stack on the ground, crack it open, and glance his way. Sure enough, he's looking over toward the tent. Not directly at me, as far as I can tell, but he's the actor. The professional faker. I keep my eyes on him, still unsure of exactly where his gaze is falling, and take a long, long sip of my water.

There . I'm doing as you asked.

The set up takes almost an hour, and Lloyd is demanding that we hurry so we don't miss out on the natural golden-hour. "It will be so much more authentic than adding it in post," he had said, flying by to speak to the second camera operator. I take the extra time to glance over today's pages. I'm skimming through the dialogue when I realize that this is the big reunion shoot, when Javi and Blake's characters have rescued Emma and they finally have a moment to themselves on the beach. It's one of the last scenes in the film as far as I can tell, though it's certainly not the last scene we're going to shoot. I flip through the next few pages slightly more frantic, searching to find what I already know to be true: they kiss. They kiss a lot. And the more that I skim, the more heated the dialogue becomes. I really will have to focus on my water intake today or this combined with the heat may be enough to bring me down.

Normally, I would avoid this situation as much as possible. Probably asking Dwayne if anyone back in base camp needs assistance. But now that I'm technically observing Dwayne, I go where he goes. Curse this career-boosting opportunity.

Eventually, everyone is in position. The cameras are up and rolling and Lloyd seems satisfied enough with the shot and lighting for the actors to start. I'm still under the tent with Alice and Dwayne, gripping my water bottle a little tighter. It's not easy to hear what the actors are saying from this far away, especially with the waves crashing. But whether it be morbid curiosity or masochism, I strain to hear as Lloyd calls for action.

Blake is mostly in the background of the scene, Javi and him have just rescued a disheveled Emma, whom can't keep her eyes off of Javi.

"I...how did you find me?" Emma breathes, her hands sliding up Javi's arms. This seems to be Blake's cue to leave them to it, and he turns, slowly walking down to the far side of the beach as the reunion continues.

"I had some help," Javi jerks his head to the side toward Blake's retreating figure. His smile fades as his eyes rake up and down Emma's body. "How bad did they hurt you?" I caught myself leaning toward the shore to catch that line. Javi's voice is low, protective instinct mixed with knee jerk anger. It makes me feel the same.

Emma just shakes her head, looking at her feet. "They wanted to scare you more than they wanted to scare me...I think they were afraid of what you might do if you did show up and found me in worse conditions."

Javi takes a minute to weigh her words, assessing her body again to see if he believes her or not. The pain and simultaneous relief in his eyes is so real, and it reminds me of that same concerned expression he gave me last night before he gave into my desires. I don't want to share that look with somebody else, and it feels like I'm running an internal marathon to remind myself that this is fake. But just as I felt several weeks ago in L.A., I can't look away from this scene. No matter how bad their words and gazes twist in my chest.

"When I heard–" Javi's voice catches, and I feel my feet instinctively twitch forward to him.

"When I heard they had you...there was nothing else. Nothing else mattered," He settled his steel gaze on her face, allowing with a hand grazing her cheek. "I would have done anything. I want you to know that. And after everything before, if you don't want me now, I understand. But I need you to know that if it's your voice on the other end of the line, there is no call I wouldn't answer," His other hand reaches around, both of them cupping her face now, "I will always find you."

I swayed a little. I believed him. And as Emma melted at his words, throwing her arms around him and claiming that there was no one else she would call, no other face she'd want to see after such an ordeal... I believed it too much. I could tell myself that this was fiction, and I knew I had the pages in my hand to prove it, but my body felt different. His hands being twisted in her hair, the same hands that held me in place last night, it was too familiar. This scene was running a tiny blade against a scab I thought had fully healed. It was far too easy to remember how it felt to see the man I was with touch someone the way he had been touching me.

I keep telling myself over and over again that it's his job. It's fake. But the pounding in my chest was real, along with the anger and jealousy that had begun to bubble to the surface.

Before the logical side of my brain could grab the steering wheel, this face-paced nostalgic jealousy had begun to move my feet. I took a fresh water bottle off of the ground, making a move to leave the tent. No one had called cut, and Javi and Emma were still lost in each other. Dwayne glanced my way, confused.

"Blake doesn't have a water," I whispered to Dwayne, using the bottle to point in his direction. He'd moved off camera, having completed his walk down the beach. The actor was now standing near the original path that he had come from, waiting for the scene to finish. This was definitely more of a standard PA duty, but I didn't care. I needed to do something, to talk to someone else.

"Uh," Dwayne glanced over at him, "Okay, good call." Realistically, it didn't matter whether I was standing next to Dwayne or Blake. They were still going to do another few takes, I'm sure. And if Dwayne needed me for something, it was only a few yards away.

I made my way over to Blake who was fixated on with the water or scene I was desperately trying to avoid. He gives me a once-over when I come up beside him.

"A small thanks," I say quietly, "For saving me the other day."

He accepts the water bottle, "Appreciated. I like the costume, don't get me wrong, but it sure is hot." He cracks open the top, and before I can stop myself, I can feel that weird, seething part of my still in control.

"Well, I have to say it's worth the discomfort." I try to make my voice casually flirtatious, but I think it sounds quite strained.

Blake doesn't seem to notice, his eyebrows flashing upward.

"Really?"

"Of course, who doesn't like a guy in a suit?" I keep my eyes forward, forcing myself to smile. I can feel him eyeing me again. That childish part of me that has taken over is inappropriately pleased.

"Duly noted," Blake says softly, taking another sip from his bottle.

"Cut!" Lloyd yells, and I don't look to see Emma and Javi pull apart. I can hear Lloyd say something about taking five to review the footage, but I try to stay focused on the water in front of me, and on whatever distraction I was hoping for from Blake.

"So, about that Italian," I turn my full attention to him now. If I was correct in guessing his type the other day, he'll respond well to some level of ego-stroking.

"Si?"

I giggle for effect. "Do you think you could give me a lesson or two? I don't expect to be fluent by the end of this, but it could be useful. Just in case Lloyd needs me to rearrange another cafe last minute or something."

Blake doesn't even look surprised at my attempt at flirting. "That could be arranged. What if we got a drink tonight? I could show you some– yes, Javi?" Blake's attention snaps up over my head. I turn quickly to find Javi standing barely a foot behind me, staring daggers at Blake.

Uh-oh. "I think we're running it again." Javi's voice is deadly calm, and he doesn't look at me at all. I'm in his direct line of sight, but he only keeps staring past me at Blake.

"Uh, yeah. Lloyd hasn't called it yet. I'll be down in a minute." Blake touches my arm, a silent request to turn my attention back to him.

"Actually, Dwayne asked Ava back to the tent. I'm the messenger today." His voice is still even, but his body is rigid.

I glance back to Blake now, mouthing sorry as I turn to leave.

"Raincheck then, Ava. About those lessons." He winked at me and I just nodded, completely avoiding Javi as I trudged through the sand back to my tent. I felt like a little kid being caught with candy under her pillow. I wanted a distraction, sure, but I wasn't trying to settle the score. And I certainly never intended for Javi to be near that conversation.

Or had I? Did I want him to look over and feel some version of the jealousy I was feeling looking at him and Emma? But, god, the look on his face. And he wouldn't meet my eyes. He wouldn't even look in my direction.

To get that image out of my mind, I get Dwayne's attention as soon as I'm back under the safety of the tent.

"What can I do?" I ask.

"Uh, hang tight. Lloyd is about to call action again."

I glance around the tent.

"Sounds good. I thought you needed me for a task...?"

"Uh... nope. Just hang tight." Dwayne looks confused. I nod, turning my attention back to the water. A sinking feeling hits low in my gut. Javi had made that up just to get me away from Blake? My heart starts beating quicker. And with each beat, the same word is hammering in my mind.

Mistake, mistake, mistake.

I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I know that was the wrong call.

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