#i try to tag all my AUs and stuff so it’s at least slightly easier AUGH

[solargeist]

Why do the watchers and Xelqua call Grian sunset and does it have anything to do with the fact that Grian literally means sun in Irish?

(I'm sorry if you've already answered this I'm on mobile and looking back through posts takes forever)

Yeah it’s bc his name means Sun ! I’m sure the Watchers had some more symbolism to the nickname than I do haha, tho sometimes pet-names just Happen, he lived on the ocean, I’m sure Aether saw the sunset a lot and started to compare it to Grian (plus his dirty blonde hair is very bright in sun light.)

Xelqua is being sarcastic when he says it to Grian though

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Don't Call Me Angel

Author: butterflyslinky

Artist: Diminuel

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Brief Dean/Benny Lafitte, Mentioned Dean/Lisa Braeden, Past Castiel/Lily Sunder, Past Castiel/Crowley, Mentioned Castiel/Unnamed Others, Mentioned Dean/Ash, Mentioned Dean/Lee Webb

Length: 51170

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Discussion of Murder and Suicide, Minor Character Death, Mentioned Dubious Consent

Tags: HunterCorp AU, Female!Castiel, Mark of Cain, Series Rewrite

Posting Date: October 2, 2023

Summary: On his first solo case for HunterCorps, Dean runs into a freelancer known as Cass Teyal. Dean quickly falls for her, and soon finds himself embroiled in two much bigger cases: preventing the Apocalypse, and figuring out exactly what Cass is hiding.

Excerpt: The cemetery was, as expected, dark, creepy, and full of dead stuff. Dean walked through it, looking at every grave for disturbances. So far, all of them seemed fairly normal, but Dean knew better than to think that meant anything. He headed for the crypt. If this was a ghoul, that would be a good place to look. The door was open when Dean reached it. He groaned and headed inside. “Cass?” “Wondered when you’d show.” She was standing toward the back, apparently looking around, though she didn’t have any sort of light. Dean shown his flashlight at the wall, searching for any irregularities. “You’re going to have to be faster if you want to compete.” “You’ve been drinking,” Dean protested weakly. “You shouldn’t be out here.” “I’m not even slightly intoxicated. I was just waiting for it to get dark.” She looked him up and down again. “See you stopped to change out of the pretty clothes.” “Hunting is messy.” “Hm.” She kept staring at him, her gaze piercing. “You know my name, pretty boy…what’s yours?” “Dean,” Dean said distractedly. “Got scratches here.” He shone his light on the spot. “Yes, I spotted them…nothing behind there. Dean who?” “Dean Winchester…where is it, then?” “Probably stalking out another victim in whatever skin it’s wearing. You’re John’s son.” “Yeah…you know him?” “He keeps trying to recruit me. But I work alone, and not for money. Come on.” Dean blinked, but followed Cass out of the crypt. She walked through the cemetery with a steady, long stride, not even looking back to make sure he was following. “Wait!” Dean jogged and caught up to her, his confusion evident. “You’re sure it’s not in there?” “Very. This is a shapeshifter, not a ghoul. Which means it probably set up somewhere more comfortable.” “How do you know?” “I looked at the victims. No bites, just slices. The cemetery’s just a dumping ground. Very considerate, actually.” “Considerate?!” “Well, it’s putting them where they’d end up eventually. It seems better than dumping them in alleys like most monsters.” “No, Cass, better would be not murdering people!” “Obviously. But if you must be killing people, the least you can do is make clean-up easier.” “Right.” Dean shook his head a bit. “So where are we going?” “Somewhere we can look at a map. I want to triangulate where the victims lived.” “Okay…we can go to my suite, it’s got a big table.” Cass looked amused. “Why, Mr. Winchester, are you inviting me up to your room?” “For the case. If you won’t back off, we’ll have to work together, and I’m going to wring as many billable hours out of it as I can.” “You do that, pretty boy…lead the way.”

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

[bereft-of-frogs]

Hi, hope you don't mind me asking this, but I saw a post about your two fandoms, and I just wanted to ask, do you think there is the same arguments across both fandoms just in a slightly different context, or do you think a lot of discourse is specific to the fandom itself? Do you think it's inevitable that in large fandoms, discourse occurs? I'm only in one so I genuinely don't know. Thanks.

Hi! This is a really interesting question.

I think the base elements of discourse will always be present in a fandom that grows sufficiently large. allow me to postulate a few categories of universal discourse:

- the various iterations of purity culture, whether it’s ‘how dare you find the villain character compelling!’, or ‘this content is too violent/sexual won’t you think about the hypothetical children’! No amount of tagging your work 18+ will save you from the crime of hypothetically traumatizing imaginary children. the P word will probably be thrown around (you know what I mean)

- there will be the ship wars, with the added recent development of desperately looking for ways the other person you don’t ship your fav with is morally bad, overusing terms like gaslight/abuse/manipulation/etc, so as to paint your rival ship and all its shippers as ‘problematic’ and morally in the wrong, character bashing, etc

- the people who seem to actually hate about 90% of the canon but stick around for the fanworks and just constantly rag on canon as it’s released and think anyone (also with an added ‘...and this is why it’s morally wrong!’ for the same reasons as above ship wars)

- the people who aren’t in the fandom at all but sort of flit around the edges just to flaunt how much smarter they are than the people who actually like it. these people just want to pride themselves on not liking something that is popular, and are incredibly annoying about it.

But I feel like each big fandom I’ve participated in has had at least one unique discourse element. Les Misérables has the war against the untagged Modern AUs. Star Wars has the, sigh, ‘the Jedi were secretly the actual bad guys all along and you’re a bad person for liking them’ discourse I refuse to ever participate in again. I don’t think any fandom has achieved the levels of cult recruitment that Harry Potter has. (What is it, 5 cults now?) I’m sure there’s some mess going on in Lord of the Rings somewhere, but I’ve been fortunate enough to avoid it.

Marvel I think is interesting because it’s so large that there are multiple factions, all with unique points that people argue about. Even in compared to Star Wars, which is also large and with many factions. But I think also the difference might have to do with time scale: MCU discourse has really only had 10 years to cram it all it, while SW has developed over the last 40. There’s been a higher concentration of course, with the recent Disney acquisition and all the problems that entailed (lol yes understatement of the decade), but I think because it’s all been so stretched out we only see one significant cycle of discourse at a time, whereas in the MCU they’re all happening at once. Constantly. Which can get exhausting.

I think my personal position in the two fandoms discourse is interesting. I have the general Star Wars discourse ban that dates from when the sequel trilogy anti stuff was getting really bad, and I found myself stuck in a sort of weird position on it...but since then I think I’ve found myself a niche where the discourse is more minimal and easier to avoid, excepting that one big sticking point that I refuse to discuss because the sides are so entrenched it’s useless and also frequently gets to a point that’s just fundamentally upsetting to me, so I just don’t do it. I have had some issues trying to avoid character bashing of some of my favs, because it’s gotten sort of bad lately and spilled over into the AO3 summaries/tags which I really hate...but then I just go back to doing whatever I want and not really caring about what anyone else thinks lol.

I don’t know why I feel more comfortable publicly commenting on MCU discourse. I think maybe I’ve just been more consistently participating in it over the last few years. I don’t know. I also just find it really interesting to break down sometimes, like when I made that post about the fandom and conspiratorial thinking, and if we were headed towards something like TJLC. It is an utter mess right now (like seriously especially the Loki side of the fandom, good god what a dumpster on fire we’re all hanging out in) - which also means it’s a lot harder to avoid, so I think maybe my coping mechanism here is to set an emotional distance by commentating and unpacking it, whereas with SW it’s just utter avoidance.

So yeah, the tldr: yes, I think once any fandom or piece of media gets sufficiently large and popular there will be certain points of discourse that inevitably crop up, and it’s interesting because one can be in multiple fandoms and have completely different responses to and ways of dealing with discourse.

Thanks for the ask! It was thought-provoking. (and apologies for the delay in answering!)

[megslovesbooks]

Seven Sentence Sunday Monday

Tagged by the sparkly @confetti-cupcake ✨💖

This is cheating about 12 ways, it’s not Sunday anymore and it’s also waaaaaaaaaaay more than seven sentences. I don’t have any new WIP stuff to share because I haven’t had much writing time this week, but the. I remember this fragment I wanted to write for the Holiday fic exchange that just didn’t come together. I expect it won’t ever see the light of day (at least not in this form) so here I shall inflict it on you.

I guess you could call this small town bookseller!Eddie and new firefighter in town!Buck AU my first pass at a Hallmark movie. 😂 It’s such a rough draft, enjoy my lumpy prose. 😂

“Eddie?” Isabel’s voice drifts into the back room where he’s sorting through the day’s to-do lists. Somehow he’d managed to get a fairly chipper Chris off to school on time this morning, but he’d then spent another 40 minutes trying to find the icicle lights for the store with no luck. So much for getting a jump on things today.

“Coming Abuela!” He calls, trying to keep her from coming back to find him. She’s only 8 weeks out from her hip replacement and he doesn't want her navigating the cramped storage room unless she has to. Out in the main shop it's easier to move around, but he still picks up his pace when he sees her tugging a box out from under the counter.

“Let me.” He says, scooping the box up and depositing it on the side table by the register. “What is this?”

“The lights!” Isabel says triumphantly “I forgot we put them here after the school borrowed them for Homecoming.”

Sure enough the box is full of string lights, some still tangled with remnants of silver crepe paper.

“Of course.” He says, shaking his head. “I forgot too.” It's the blessing and the curse of small down life, he supposes. Willow Springs, tucked into the western Virginia mountains, has a population of 6,572, and Eddie feels like he knows every single one of them. Or rather they know him. It's not a bad thing…most of the time.

When he and Shannon moved here two years ago (ostensibly to help his grandmother run her business, but mostly in one last desperate attempt to fix what had broken between them) he’d felt a little suffocated by it all. Everyone knowing who he was, hands in his business in a way he’d never experienced before. That’s still true sometimes. The days after the car accident had been a disorientating jumble of the town reaching out to support him and the gossips digging for as much information as they could. He still chafes under their sympathetic gazes sometimes, but on the whole he’s found small town life suits him well. He likes the quiet steadiness of it, the sense of community is nice too, even if he’s still reluctant to let the world too far into his business. There’s something very comforting in knowing that you have your neighbor’s backs and they have yours. Even if it's as simple as loaning your Christmas lights to the local highschool.

“Perfect.” He says, hoisting the box and heading for the front door. “If I can get these up by lunch I can do the restock before the auction meeting.” Abuela follows him, frowning slightly.

“I wish you’d wait until Ravi gets here, I don’t like you on that ladder by yourself.”

“It’ll be too late by then.” Eddie says, leaning over to drop a quick kiss to his grandmother’s cheek. “I do this all the time, I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Twenty minutes later when he’s balanced precariously on top of the ladder that isn’t quite tall enough, Eddie is beginning to think maybe she had a point. He contemplates climbing down to wait for Ravi, their newest hire (and only other employee, but who’s counting?), but he only works afternoons and evenings while he studies for his Mcats, and Eddie doesn't want to wait. He has too much to do.

It goes fine until it doesn't. He’s just about finished, trying to get one final strand looped over the sign above the door, when it all goes sideways. He shifts wrong, over balances, gets tangled in a trailing strand of lights, however it happens, one moment he’s fine and the next he’s falling. He makes a desperate grab at the edge of the roof to try to slow his momentum, managing to at least shift his trajectory so he’s not going down head first, but it's not enough to keep the force of the impact with the sidewalk from knocking all the sense from his body.

He must black out momentarily because the next thing he knows he’s blinking up into a familiar face. Karen Wilson leans over him, one hand on his cheek, the other hovering anxiously over his chest without touching it. He likes Karen, she’s smart and sensible and she and her wife Hen always make him laugh at PTA events. He’s been meaning to call her actually, Chris is good friends with her son Denny, he thinks they might enjoy making gingerbread houses together…

“Eddie!” She says sharply, as if it's not the first time she’s called his name. “Can you hear me?”

He can, he wants to tell her, but he can’t get his mouth to work. Behind her a bag of groceries has been scattered across the sidewalk, a bottle of white wine is cracked open and leaking across the ground towards them. That’s a shame. He’ll have to get her a new one. She’s speaking to him again but he can’t quite follow her words. How did he end up here anyway? Something a bit frantic is beginning to flutter at the back of his mind. He lets his gaze slide back up to where the tail of the strand of Christmas lights swings in the breeze. Oh. OH!

“Abuela.” He chokes out, she’d asked him to wait, he’d promised–

“She’s ok Eddie.” Karen is saying, her free hand settling over his heart with a light but firm pressure. “She’s on the phone with 911, you just stay still.” He needs to be sure. Her heart isn’t what it used to be, and her hip, she has to be careful–

He tries to push himself up, but the second he puts weight on his right arm, agony flares so hot and bright it takes him away with it into a gray twilight.

“Mr. Diaz?” Someone is talking to him again. Oh. Right. Karen, Karen was there, she’d asked him a question. “Eddie?” That doesn't sound like Karen. With a groan Eddie manages to pry his eyes open. “Are you back with us?” The person says again, the voice is low and rich and Eddie wants to touch it, run his fingers through it and tug. He squints against the light that someone is pointing in his eyes, trying to blink past it to the voice’s origin.

There are 6,572 people in the town of Willow Springs and sometimes Eddie feels like he knows all of them, but he’s never seen this man before. He’d have remembered.

“Hi.” He breaths stupidly, his head is spinning and he’s not entirely sure he can blame the fall. The man leaning over him is breathtaking, golden hair curls softly, swept off his high forehead, eyes so blue Eddie thinks he could lose himself in them forever. Yeah, that sounds good, he could just float away on an ocean of blue and never come back. The idea makes him sigh.

“Hey Eddie?” The man says, “Keep your eyes open for me, can you do that?” Oh. He hadn’t meant to close them, he forces them back open. “There you go.” The man smiles at him and Eddie hums happily in response. He’d gladly do anything this man asked him. He’s feeling oddly floaty.

“You’re doing great Eddie.” Says a new voice and Eddie blinks, suddenly realizing he’s not on the sidewalk anymore, he’s in the back of a moving ambulance. Crap. His heart rate must pick up because the beautiful man disappears and is replaced with Hen’s face. Hen who’s kid is over at his house every few weeks. Hen who has the kindest eyes he’s ever seen. Hen who works as a paramedic with the local fire house, right, he’d fallen, they’d called 911…

“My Abuela-” He manages to croak. Hen pats him carefully on his left shoulder, his right arm seems to be almost entirely numb…

“Karen’s got her.” She says, “They’re going to meet us at the hospital. You took quite a tumble, I think you probably broke your shoulder, but we’re going to get you some x rays to be sure.”

🎄🤕🤷‍♀️

I’m not going to tag anyone because I think most of you have done this already this week and also it’s not Sunday anymore 😂 But if anyone has any languishing bits that won’t ever see the light of day I’d love to read them.

[hetalia-has-a-secretary]

Any tips on making a Hetalia scenario blog? Rlly need some good advice for writing, handling asks, etc.

This is a very good question! From what I've seen from other blogs, and such I can give you a nice list of the basics! I'd also LOVE to see your Blog so feel free to send me your username! Biggest rule SAVE EARLY. SAVE OFTEN! the amount of times I lost a whole hours worth of work! ALSO DON'T CLICK ON OTHER TUMBLR NOTIFS BECAUSE IT CAN KICK YOU OFF FROM YOUR DRAFT AND THAT SUCKS!

Know your Boundaries- While it's nice to want to anwser everything that comes through, it's helpful to pin a Do/Won't Do rules list. Both you and your future followers need to know Boundaries. It makes things easier on both sides! Make sure to stay with those Boundaries to avoid problems in the future.

Hetalia Fandom- as with all fandoms we have the good, bad and the ugly. Keep in mind you don't have to, and shouldn't, interact with anything negative. Only respond to 'hate mail' and trolls if you can handle it. Once they see you take their bait they most certainly will send more, and it can easily spiral your blog into a negative space! (It's also way more fun not answering them, and just KNOWING they're probably frustrated you're not giving them attention) A good rule to follow is to step away from that ask before deciding to respond. It might not be worth getting worked up over it.

Be inclusive- It can be fun to do research on ethnicities and other things like Genders. But if you ever feel like you can't answer an ask dealing with Trauma, Mental illnesses, or Races don't feel obligated to anwser then. Especially if you don't have the knowledge. Feel free to leave a brief message such as "I don't know enough about this, so I'm afraid I can't answer." Or "I'm unsure if I can represent 'X' properly so I can't do the ask."

Don't over do it- I find I get burned out if I answer more than 3 (I have no life) asks in a row. Get a tiny notepad and scribble ideas down when the urge or idea occurs! It can make it easy. But also, don't let it distract you from daily life! Tumblr users are relatively understanding of this rule.

Those are rules for what I personally feel that helps me keep motivated, and mentally well, all while keeping a rather clean and safe blog. This next set is more or so actually running a scenerio blog.

Have a pinned rule lost- Go take a peek at my rules list. Yeah. See that glorious mess I made- Don't expect everyone to have the ability to read a lengthy rule list. Keep it simple. We have people with ADHD (etc), reading disabilities, and people who don't speak full english roaming about in our lovely fish tank know as the Hetalia Fandom! So keep that in mind if someone asks something that goes against your rules, and be kind when telling them!

Have a back up- If there's any specific scenerios or asks you don't want to keep, Make a Google doc to copy and paste the scenerios from. I've noticed that Tumblr posts (mobile) don't let you copy anything more than what's between breaks and bullet points. So I'd recommend typing things out in Google docs (which can help with grammar and spelling as well) and paste it into a Draft.

Drafts- I personally like having several drafts to work on throughout the week. So I don't always do them in order, but I also let my blog followers know when I start hopping around.

Know your limit- I have over 50 asks (I'm also slightly out of my mind) and I will admit it can be overwhelming, so set a small limit of what you can get out at a comfortable pace, and close your ask box when you go over that limit if you plan on using it. Example: I can do 6-10 asks in a week (pain), So I should be closing my box when I see it get to 15-20, excluding the stuff like friendly compliments I can give a quick thanks to!

Writing- It's important to keep things organized. If you look at my past asks you can see I keep characters separate, and I make the names Bold of I'm not using bullet point. It's to help people reading my blog skim through and keep track of what's what. I see a lot of word counts, and Trigger warnings. For trigger warnings, act like you're rating a movie! Is it M for mature due to Violence, or mentions of nudity? It's nice to have a NSFW tag to help people filter your blog. Mine is #handsypandsy because Tumblr doesn't like the tag NSFW.

You can do a readmore- : readmore :

But without the space. Very helpful for NSFW, sensitive content, and long content. If the thing you made takes more than half a scroll, you should use it.

Prioritize your tags- this is a rule I don't follow, but I'm trying to remember it. It's probably smartest to go in the order of: NSFW tag (if any), Main Characters, Series Names, Funny tags or commentary. It makes it easier for both you and your readers to find what you're looking for! Also, organize any other AUs like human AU.

Last but not least- don't be afraid to make mistakes. I've forgotten characters, and some nice anons point it out. It can be a pain to find them, but like I've stated previously tags can be your best friend. It's also fun to use a text to speech and listen back to your writing (definitely want to Google doc so you don't struggle trying to copy everything).

With that being said remember to have fun! I know it seems like a lot, but it comes down to what feels best for you, and what goes on with your life. Feel free to DM me as well, I keep a very strict "What happens in DMs, Stays in DMs" rule! Remember internet safety, and if you have any specific questions feel free to send them in! And if anyone has anything to add, feel free to comment below!

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Strangers Au: Order of Terra (Pt.1)

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

Magic was. . . A tricky business, like trying to take down a lion with nothing more than your bare hands. The slightest mistake and you'd be sent home in a wooden box.

Larion had been attuned with magic since a very young age, so he held no apprehension in terms of wielding it.

But now that he was an adult, he wanted to do something. The only magic he'd done up to that point seemed trivial at most, he wanted something. . . More.

"Hey nerd whatcha looking at!" Larion jumped slightly as he heard the voice of one of his very limited amounts of friends.

"Nothing, Remona," said Larion, smiling slightly.

"What're all these necklaces for?" Remona said, walking over to a set of eight necklaces on Larion's desk.

"And why should I tell you dear duchess?" Larion replied, smirking.

"Because if you do I'll give you a little kiss on the cheek," Remona said with a grin.

Larion stood still for a moment, blush creeping up on his face.

"Alright, I'm working on giving them different abilities to form a guard for the kingdom," Larion said with a grin.

"Oooohhhh! Magic jewelry! That's certainly gonna go well!" Remona said, expression still stuck on a manic grin.

"I have a plan to keep them out of the hands of those who may misuse them, which now that I think about it, you may be able to help with. . ." Larion said, voice quieting toward the end of the sentence.

"Oh could I?" Remona said, tilting her head so that the wild curls that made up her mane fell to the side.

"Theres one person in particular that can never come into possession of these objects, least of all the necklace of the spider, that one should be saved for emergencies only, not even I would dare to touch it," Larion replied.

"Its Romulus isnt it?" Remona said, rolling her eyes and letting out a small huff.

"My apologies for bringing him up so suddenly, but as he is very arrogant and power-hungry, I'll need someone to assist me in keeping the necklaces from him," Larion said as he clasped the necklace shaped as a unicorn around his neck.

"Ooohhh! Does that mean I get one!" Said Remona with a grin.

"Perhaps it would be for the best, I suppose you could pick one, just keep away from the spider and wolf," Larion said. Remona reached out quickly to snatch an octopus necklace form the table.

"So what'd they do?" Remona said as she twisted the necklace in her palm.

"Mine allows me to control stars, as well as communicate across all language barriers," Larion replied.

"Oooooohhh! Does that mean you can talk to the rat that lives in my hair!" Remona said excitedly, earning a bewildered look from Larion.

"I'm joking specs! Geez!" Remona said, giggling.

"Oh- of course-" Larion replied, blushing.

"So what's mine do?" Remona asked.

"Control oceans and sea creatures," Larion said, flinching as Remona emitted a loud shriek of what he hoped was excitement.

"Oh this is gonna be so cool! We can fight crime like superheroes and stuff! Crime couple!!!" Remona said, placing a kiss on Larion's forehead.

"Oh- well uh- there is- one other person I've already invited- another Uhm- mage- to- well-" Larion had wanted to explain the plans he had with another mage, but his train of thought seemed to have stopped.

"Oh so it's a group effort!" Remona said, looking over to the necklaces again "I guess I shouldve figured that out sooner-" she said with a laugh.

The two were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Remington, welcome!" Larion said, moving out of the way for the mage.

"Sorry I'm late babes, very important visitor from across the sea," said Remington, walking over to the table.

"Oh? Care to share with us?" Larion said quizzically as he walked over to the necklace table.

"Lady Viviana, daughter of some very famous witches, kinda fidgety, wears a lot of hoods," said Remington.

"Oh yes I've heard about her, perhaps I should invite her to join us?" Larion said.

"Oh she isnt magic, probably wouldnt care," Remington said with a shrug, picking up a fox necklace from the table.

"Ah, the fox necklace, power of sleep and disease," Larion said.

"Nah babes I just like it cuz its gray," said Remington, earning a laugh from Remona.

"Well if we're just color coding then why did I bother giving them individual abilities?-" Larion said, confused.

"Wait a minute! Lari it's perfect! If everythings color-coded that makes it so much easier!" Remona said excitedly.

"You- have a point Remona-" Larion said, holding a hand to his chin as he began to think.

The Order grew fairly quickly, as did the relationships within it, Larion and Remona got married fairly quickly to Jamillan, the fourth member. Remington and Larion had agreed to allow Remington's spouse, Emalei, to join under the order, and lastly was a baker named Pamela, wife of Lady Viviana, who's interest was primarily to protect her from a rising threat.

The threat in question, future king Romulus.

"Viviana hasnt been out in days because of him. . . He's threatened to lose down the bakery on multiple occasions, says it's because of health code violations, but I know the truth," Pamela said, voice sharp for someone so soft-looking.

"He tried to poison my wine when he came over! Only Jamillan is allowed to do that!" Remona said, draping herself across the aforementioned snakes lap.

They'd talked for a while, until the conversation was interrupted by a scream from outside.

"VIVIANA!" Pamela was the first to rush outside, only to witness Viviana locked in a fight with none other than Romulus himself, on horseback no less. And on Romulus' neck, the wolf necklace.

The order tried to chase after him, but it was no use, it was much to difficult to chase a horse on foot.

So instead they tried to formulate a plan and storm the castle.

And they would have been successful, had it not been for what awaited them in the throne room.

The King and Queen lay on their thrones, limp, slits in their necks, and Romulus lay across one of the two center chair.

And in the second chair, hands clutching the sides with such force her knuckles were turning white, eyes ablaze with a purple fire, and tied around her neck, the spider necklace.

Lady Viviana, or as Romulus thought of her, a weapon to be used against the order.

Larion wasnt sure what happened next, only that one second it was dark,and the next second hands that he wasnt moving were closed around Romulus' throat, and each of his friends leaving for different parts of the castle, their movements oddly robotic.

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

Tag list:

@that-peach-anon

@lazyboneslover

@baka-monarch

@extraintrovertedsilence

@lovelivingmydreams

@coffeeoverdosedshipper

@thefivecalls

@willowaudreykeyes

@pricklyfish777

@the-sad-strawberry

@itsnithbabey

@private-snippers

@0exterc0

@rich-flower-17

@theonetruebeepboop

@mycatshuman

@teamplutoforlife

@melodiread

@meowthefluffy

@frawkeye

@cemmy

@nerosdayinhell

@thecolorfulolive

@frog-candy-bee

[sandersstudies]

Espresso-ly for You - Chapter Two

I liiiiiive! Or at least, my writing does. Like I said, I can’t and won’t promise regular updates on this one, but the sweet sweet coffeeshop AU will never let me go for sure.

Chapter One Here 

***

“Hey there, long time no see!” Janus said over the top of his mug. It was the one he brought from home, with a snake for a handle. 

“I saw you on Sunday,” Virgil said, slouching his backpack off his shoulder to store in the employee cupboard. 

“Yeah, but so much has happened since then,” Janus said, and then sipped his drink loudly. “Did Logan tell you about the birds that were fighting outside on Tuesday?”

“No.”

“See, of course he didn’t, he doesn’t care about the fun stuff. God, you look exhausted, let me get you a pick-me-up, you raccoon.” He began to measure a shot of espresso.

“I’ve already been drinking way too much soda to stay awake,” Virgil said.

“I’m not giving you soda, am I?” Janus asked, turning on the steam wand. “I’m giving you sweet bean juice, it will give you things no other drink can.” The shots pulling from the espresso machine dripped like warm honey, and Virgil had to admit they looked enticing. Janus was the most skilled barista in the cafe, going to local barista competitions three years in a row, and making it to the final round the last two years. 

“One of the benefits of working here is all the free coffee you want,” Janus said. “Might as well take advantage of it.” He’d barely looked at the machine while preparing the milk and espresso, but now, with a few seconds of intense focus, he guided his pitcher across the surface of the crema to create a delicate rosetta. “There, my nicest flat white of the day, all for you.”

Virgil took the cup and sipped. Perfect, creamy foam. 

Janus picked up his own cup and slurped the last of the coffee inside. “Well, better prepare for the lunchtime rush,” he said, checking his watch. “How was it yesterday?”

“Not too bad.”

“If you want to run register and food the first hour, I’ll run bar and then we can switch,” Janus said, reaching behind himself to tighten his apron strings. “If it slows down I’ll do a restock but I think we should be fine.”

Janus had been the first barista to push Virgil to run the espresso machine solo. When the morning or lunch rush came and there was a line out the door, Janus would watch and speak encouragingly, but never step in to rescue him the way Logan did.

“See these two cups?” Janus had said one day when Virgil could barely hold a milk pitcher without shaking. “These two drinks are the only ones you need to worry about right now. All those other drinks, all those other people, they don’t exist to you. It doesn’t matter if there are three drinks or thirty drinks waiting, you’re always working on these two drinks, and two drinks only.”

Eventually Virgil learned how to fall into a rhythm where he prepped one shot as another one pulled, poured one milk as another one steamed. Janus would flit back and forth from the register to the hand-off, confidently ringing in and handing out drinks as Virgil’s hands shook too hard to stop cups from spilling.

“You don’t need me,” Janus had said. “Someday you’re gonna be stuck up to your elbows in cappuccinos and I’m not going to be here, and you’ll have to haul them out of yourself. If I rescue you now, you won’t be able to do it then.”

Virgil had burned with frustration that Janus wouldn’t help him. But when the line dwindled, Virgil found himself reaching for the next cup in line, and it wasn’t there. He’d done it, he’d seen only two drinks in front of him and had conquered a breakfast rush. The customers had become a blur, and he’d honed in on more lattes and macchiatos than he could count.

“The next challenge,” Janus had said as they shared coffee in the following lull. “Is to bring the customers into focus too. Two things matter in coffeeshops, the coffee, and the people. You can’t let either one distract from the other.”

“You want me to do all that and small talk?”

“It gets easier with time.”

The retrospect that proved Janus right didn’t help Virgil to not feel aghast at the suggestion. It was easy to envy Janus’ ease around customers, asking Wendy how her radishes were doing as he poured her coffee, telling jokes to kids, and showing them the swan he’d drawn in their father’s latte. 

Virgil tied his apron and went to the front register. He ran his fingers over the screen. Pretending to type up a long order was his key both to eavesdropping and to looking busy, especially if he furrowed his brow just enough to look focused. Whenever a particularly angry customer started to complain at the other end of the counter, here Virgil would be, tapping like he was crafting a novel and not hitting the button for “doppio” a dozen times in a row. Meanwhile Janus, usually, would be the one at the end, silver-tongued and composed, listening with raised eyebrows and a soft smile. He’d turn around only when the cafe was empty to say “could you believe that jerk?”

A gaggle of college girls in matching volleyball t-shirts approached, and Virgil glanced at Janus, who cracked his knuckles dramatically. “May the coffee gods guide me,” he said as the bell on the door jangled merrily. 

“Hi, what can I get for you?”

“Large iced vanilla soy latte.”

“Medium blended caramel coffee, extra caramel, whipped cream.”

“Small almond latte.”

And so on down the line. Janus remained unfazed, continuing to greet other customers who braved entering the store despite the line. He called out every drink he made and made eye contact with each girl who picked hers up, even (Virgil thought he saw) winking a couple times. The hum of the espresso machine and hiss of the steam wand filled the cafe, singing along to the piano playing over the speakers. Was this Logan’s playlist?

The line didn’t end, after that. The girls cleared and were replaced by tides of office workers in pressed clothes from the smattering of office buildings that hemmed in the coffee shop on all sides. Friendly receptionists and personal assistants were a favorite of Virgil’s, and were perhaps the only ones who called him by endearments that didn’t feel horribly awkward.  Most of them tipped well. 

The cafe chairs filled up, representing casual business talks, friendly meet-ups, and solitary breaks from long days. All the grind-never-stop types had the coffee to-go, and those taking a quick respite adored the cafe’s “for here” cups. Virgil liked to watch for the people who perked up or relaxed with their first sip. One of the personal assistants from the building across the street (Virgil thought her name was Jackie) put her cappuccino to her lips and leaned back into her chair, the tension around her eyes softening.

A moment came where a couple of middle-aged women paused to examine the menu, and Janus appeared as if by magic at the register. 

“Tag team, let’s go! Your turn on the bar, kid.” 

Virgil moved to the espresso machine. Janus had not only finished the drinks in front of him, but wiped down the counter and machine to leave Virgil the perfect surface to begin again. The middle-aged women put in their orders, and Virgil felt like his vision zoomed in as he began the two drinks in front of him, and the two after that, and the two-

He was getting better at this now, even managed a croaked “hello,” to most of the customers who walked in the door, and a “thank you” as they took their drinks. He let the steam wand run a few extra seconds to feel the warmth bead on his face every time he started to get anxious. 

The lunch rush came to its merciful end, and Virgil took his break to chew a PB&J sandwich before Janus left for the day. As the clock hit two, the elder barista pulled his keys from the cupboard.

“I bid you adieu and an easy close,” he said, twirling his keychain around his hand as he clocked out. The jingle of his keys was followed by the jangle of the door behind him, and Virgil was alone in the cafe.

He brewed fresh coffee - they’d almost run out during the rush, and pause to sweep the floors and wipe down the counters. Running the store for the last three hours before close, and the chance to close the store by himself was both a responsibility and a chance for peace that Virgil appreciated. He liked helping customers, more spread out then before, and in between them finding little things to clean, extra minutes to practice his latte art - damn, how could Janus draw a rosetta so effortlessly? All Virgil’s came out looking like lumps. 

He aerated the milk gently, and heard the front bell ting.

“Hey there,” Virgil said without looking up, tilting his pitcher so the foam was perfectly incorporated. He turned the steam wand off and gently groomed the milk to pour. “Sorry, I’ll be right with you.” 

The milk texture was almost perfect. He guided his pitcher over the crema and… produced a haphazard rosetta. It was lopsided and a little mangled from Virgil swirling the crema too hard, but it wasn’t one of his worst attempts.

“Hey, that looks pretty good!” 

Virgil looked up and felt his ears get hot. Roman was leaning slightly over the bar (oh wow, he was even taller than Virgil had thought), staring at the cup. “Could you do one like that for me?”

Virgil swallowed. “Yeah uh… yeah, sure.” Nevermind that it was much harder to make oat milk froth properly. Virgil grabbed his non-dairy pitcher.

“Oh, could you make it as an large cinnamon-”

“Yeah, I got it.” Oh no, I cut him off. In too deep now. Virgil felt Roman’s gaze on him as he made the latte. The cinnamon-sugar topping made a nice base to draw with, but Virgil didn’t have as much experience with oat and soy, and the rosetta was barely visible as he finished it. Roman stared into the cup.

“Sorry,” Virgil muttered. “Still practicing.” 

“Oh, that’s okay,” Roman said, but sounded a bit disappointed. He left a ten on the counter. “Thanks for trying, the extra’s for you.” 

He left the cafe, and Virgil watched him vanish down the street, but just before he was out of sight, he put the to-go cup to his lips, and Virgil saw his shoulders relax.

[musinglymuse]

No single recommendation list can possibly contain all the fanfiction I’d recommend for this pairing... so here’s a followup for the ever so popular Nursey and Dex pairing! You can find my other recommendations for this pairing and the fandom by looking in the tags on my blog.

I’ve compiled some of what I consider excellent fanfics that feature this pairing although it does not contain all of my recommendations. They are listed in no particular order. I plan on creating more recommendation lists for this fandom, although I may branch out to other fandoms later on.

As a reminder, please make sure to check the tags and any warnings before reading. Take care of yourself!

fly towards a secret sky by growlery writes Canon Divergence // ~5k // PG-13

Dex snorts, but it doesn't sound mean. None of the guys are, like, bad about the Muslim thing. There was always a place for him to pray at the Haus, before he moved in, and no one asks him to go to lunch on a Friday, and he never gets interrogated when he’s drinking (or not drinking) at a party. They can be weird, though, like that time someone brought up Nazem Kadri's suspension with him even though Nursey's ambivalent at best towards the Leafs.

Dex has never been weird. There's a billion points of tension between them, but this isn't one of them.

The Scarf by rhysiana Magic AU // ~8k // PG-13

College, Dex was finding, was both harder and easier to navigate than he’d anticipated. Classes and hockey practice he’d expected, and he mostly had a handle on those. But all the interpersonal stuff was… difficult.

Shitty thought it was because he was from a small town. Ransom thought it was because he was the first person in his family to go to college. Holster thought it was because Dex joined him in his hatred of 90% of the population. Chowder thought it was because Dex was stressed out. Nursey just thought it was because he was a conservative asshole.

Shockingly, none of them ever thought to guess it was because he was a witch living with people who didn’t know for the first time.

Crushcrushcrush by loveandallthat Canon Divergence // ~5k // PG-13

It’s not Dex’s fault that his teammates are really, really good-looking, and also kind of amazing. But it makes it much harder to convince Nursey that what he feels for him is on a different level.

It's (not) You by unacaritafeliz Soulmates AU // ~9k // PG-13

"It could still be a coincidence though," says Nursey, pressing his own thumb against the mark. "It doesn't have to be you."

"Nursey..." starts Dex. He's trying to sound soft, but he probably just sounds broken. He feels broken. "Nursey, of course it's me."

light's off, light's on (you were the right one) by jennycaakes Post Canon // ~9k // PG-13

“This,” Nursey said, gesturing around them vaguely, “is the year that you fall in love with me.”

He expected Dex’s face to crack with a smile, or another roll of his eyes so sharp it could easily be written off, but neither of those things happened. Dex maintained his easy gaze, staring into Nursey’s eyes like he was looking for something.

“Won’t take much,” he murmured.

wasted on you by torkz Canon Divergence // ~20k // R

Derek Nurse thinks that if he never falls in love with another redheaded asshole named William, it’ll be too soon.

Crossed Wires by lecrivaineanonyme Dex Doesn’t Attend Samwell AU // ~15k // PG-13

Will snorts. "You are unreal,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve had people in here crying because they downloaded a virus that can be removed in two minutes, and here you are with pie-filling in your computer, joking about how at least you didn’t fucking put rice in it.”

Derek grins. “It’s chill,” he replies, scratching the back of his neck. “Why worry? I know you got my back.”

Also known as the one where Nursey is constantly fucking up his laptop and Dex is the lucky Best Buy employee who gets to fix it.

see you flexin' that's a big lie by jennycaakes Canon Divergence // ~33k // R

“I--what?” Nursey only said half of that shit to piss him off but he’s too confused to take a jab at him. “What are you saying?”

“We’ll tell people we’re dating,” Nursey says. “The team’ll know it’s not real. But word’ll spread. People’ll lay off. Give you your space.”

Dex forces himself to swallow. “Sorry. You want me. To… fake date you?”

get with it by dharmainitiative Actors AU // ~6k // PG-13

The world knows a lot about Derek Malik Nurse. They know that he graduated at the top of his class from Harvard, that he has an affinity for poetry, and that he’s one of the leads of Northanger, the #1 cable drama in the nation, which has garnered him instant fame and heartthrob status.

What the world doesn’t know about Derek is that he’s a huge pain in William Poindexter’s ass.

In Another Life by alocalband Magical Realism // ~21k // R

Dex goes to bed his first night in the basement and wakes up in a slightly altered version of reality for the day.

A few nights later, it happens again. And again. And again...

Which is fine. Really. He will handle this insanity the same way he’s handled every other weirdness Samwell has thrown at him since he got here.

He’s just not sure how to deal with the implications of how often he wakes up in worlds where Nursey is in bed beside him.

things you said by quidhitch Canon Divergence // ~6k // PG-13

“Awww, looks like Dex appreciates a lady in uniform,” Nursey teases, tucking his feet a little further beneath Dex’s thighs. “You have a thing with the head cheerleader back in high school Dexy? Hold her pom poms and kiss her whatnot?”

Dex seems to be contemplating something, and Nursey figures it’s one of his lame clapbacks like your mom’s a pom pom. He brings the bottle to his mouth, smiling around the lip of it.

“Actually, I’m more of a captain of the football team kinda guy.”

Nursey chokes on his beer.

in front of the same small bathroom mirror by shellybelle  Canon Divergence // ~12k // PG-13

It's not surprising that sharing a room changes things, but neither of them expect the most important conversations in their strange, awkward friendship to happen in their shared bathroom.

(Or: five conversations Dex and Nursey have in a shared bathroom, and one in bed.)

[gamebird]

Four hard things

I have four hours left here at work. My boss is gone. Our email is mostly down. I’ve done all the necessary and easy stuff for the day. I’m left with ... hard stuff. Things I’ve been putting off. And goofing off things. Because I can do those.

However, I find myself very resistant to doing any of these. So I thought I’d write them down and maybe ... something.

1. I have a supplier with a bunch of unpaid invoices because I dispute his version of events. We changed motors from factory A to factory B last year in April with the agreement we’d continue paying A prices until he swapped over to supply from B. We ran out of motors repeatedly since then, exhausting his inventory ... like, repeatedly. So this year, I’m thinking, he **has** to be out of A motors and entirely on B, right? But he’s still billing us for A motors when A motors are more expensive than B motors. On the motors where B was more expensive, he somehow, magically, miraculously, managed to switch over to them right away last year. But on the ones where factory B was cheaper, he’s still billing us for factory A prices. As a result, I told accounting to simply not pay him on the disputed invoices. Accounting said fine. The supplier complained a month ago and then fell silent. Although to be fair, a month ago I had surgery and wasn’t talking to them anyway. But that was weeks ago and I really don’t have a good excuse not to call them up and try to settle this. A thing that would help me is to work out exactly how much money we’re arguing about, because I might be being petty about the whole thing.

2. In my TOG story, next chapter of Integration, there’s a bit at the end I want to write out, but it involves Nile and Nicky praying together. Nile says her prayer, then Nicky his. I’m okay with what I’ve written for Nile. It feels a bit uninspired, but it works with the story and with her. She’s American and I did some research on Black Chicago Christianity. The National Baptist Convention philosophies and practices look similar enough to my Southern Baptist upbringing that I can wing it for this purpose (tho if anyone is more familiar with it, and wants to help for accuracy’s sake, hit me up). However, Nicky. This is my problem. He’s Catholic, although he’s had 900 years to drift a bit in personal practices, and he holds some religious views that are basically heretical. But still, he believes after a fashion and he regards prayer as an important part of self-maintenance. Sort of like meditation (or like me writing this) - putting one’s problems into words and using that as a mechanism to either let go of your worries or clarify them into action. But I’m really shaky on how he’d phrase what I want him to phrase. He’s doing this in English and there’s a performative aspect to this when he’s doing it next to Nile (that he doesn’t have when alone or with, say, Joe, or even Andy, and he’s even slightly more relaxed about it around Booker than he would be around Nile because he simply doesn’t know her as well). Anyway, I know the point of his comments (reassure Nile, remember Quynh, be open about his ambivalence about their current situation and his willingness to allow it to play out and support his family in this transition). But I can’t find words I’m happy with on this.

3. I have a half dozen other writing projects (at least!) I could fill my afternoon with. Every one of them has one reason or another that I put it aside, like the stuff in point 2.

4. I also have a 6k story a friend recommended and I agreed to read it and then I saw it was tagged with an AU I’m almost allergically repelled by and so ... it sits unread. But I agreed to read it. Ugh.

So. Now that I have the list. I need to pick something and do it.  :(  I was hoping that by the end of the list it would be easier.

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

@meepishme deceided the first one who’s backstory I should elaborate on (in the pirate au) is Virgil! @alias290 idk if you still wanna be tagged in this stuff just let me know if not

(I’m doing this in fic form (which is why this too so long, sorry) it’s jumping a bit in the timeline (only after the deathday) All in all I’m not sure how happy I’m with the end result but whatever.)

Also the other four crew members are half other characters belonging to Thomas Sanders with two minor OCs sprinkled in.

Word count: 2340 (not betaed)

Warnings: abandonment, memory issues (not really but issues with forgetting shit), abusive parents (no violence in fic, but mention of parent wanting their kid dead)

Virgil leaned on the wood of the railing, his post in the crowsnest long abandoned.

It had been five days since they had spotted this island and discovered that once the low tide set in the Eye of God was stranded on the beach, free to leave as soon as the high tide came back.

It had been four days since Remus, Roman, Nija, Kai and Elliott had gone to scout the island.

It had been two days since Logan had gotten so restless he couldn’t wait anymore and had gone out to search for them together with Janus, Patton and Muk, leaving Virgil behind with those so familiar words.

“Keep watch over the ship, okay?”

Just that Logan always followed it up with “I’ll be back soon.”

He did it since he’d gone to pull the last lever and Virgil had broken down. They all made sure to promise that they’d be back since then. That they wouldn’t abandon the ship and him with her.

Logan didn’t really have to say it with the request.

Virgil would agree anyway.

He always watched over the ship.

He had to.

But it had been two days since they’d left.

The island wasn’t that big.

At least the first group should be back by now.

Unless something bad had happened to them.

Virgil anxiously glanced to the horizon, where the sun was steadily moving closer to the sea.

Soon it would be six and three days.

“I should do something...”

Nobody answered.

“But I need to watch the ship... I could take the ship with me. It would be hard on my own but I could do it. But then I’d have to...”

His gaze wandered towards the steering wheel and he swallowed past the forming clump in his throat.

“No...”

Virgil sunk down until his head rested on his arms.

“Sundown,” he decided. “I’ll wait till sundown. Then I’ll go look.”

He looked down at the sand.

“If I can.”

The twins both like to wonder what he was. They never listened when he said human, but they did listen when they asked if he could leave the ship and he didn’t answer. They’d listened and taken it as a no.

But it wasn’t.

It was an “I don’t know.” An “It’s been so long since i tried that I can barely remember.”

Maybe Remus was right. Maybe he was a ghost tied to the ship and he had just never noticed that he’d died.

What would happen then if he tried to leave? Would he just disappear?

The thought scared him.

But the thought of losing yet another crew was scarier. Because how long would it take this time before their faces became too blurry to recall? How long until he didn’t know their names anymore or couldn’t be sure if they’d been part of this crew or one of the others?

He sighed.

About an hour later the last rays of sunlight barely tinted the horizon orange, lingering even though the sun was already gone.

Carefully Virgil climbed down the strick ladder. Inches above the ground he stopped.

Just underneath his foot was the sand.

He bit his lip and stared down at it.

Taking a deep breath he scrunched his eyes shut and lowered himself to the ground.

The sand was soft and shifted under his bare feet. Virgil curled his toes into it and opened his eyes again.

Slowly he let go of the ladder and took a step back.

A mix of anxiety and exitement swirled in his stomach.

He could leave. He wasn’t a ghost. That was good, very good, because that meant that he could find the others and be back before anything happened to the ship.

“I’ll be right back,” he told her. Then he turned and ran towards the forest.

The rough ground, sticks and stones felt strange but at the same time brought back echos of memories he’d long forgotten.

At another time he might’ve stopped and chased these echos, but right now he had to find his crew, before they became nothing but an echo as well.

It took him less than an hour to find a building hidden between the trees.

Well, that was an explanation at least.

Virgil snuck downhill to the gate and looked around uneasy. He didn’t like this place and the longer he was away from the ship the more he felt like it was a bad idea to leave at all.

-_-_-_-_-

Janus cursed and let the lock fall back against the metal bars.

“I can’t open it,” he muttered, stuffing the toothpick back in his pocket. He muttered something about “If I had an actual lockpick-” but no one was listening anymore.

Logan sighed.

“Great. So we’re stuck here,” he rubbed his temples. “I fucking hate cults.”

“If they at least wanted us for our bodies,” Remus spoke up, sounding genuinely disappointed. “But nooo... We’re just human sacrifices. I’m too hot to die.”

“Bitch, you’re gross,” Roman elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m the hot one.”

“Guys, we’re about to be killed, can you argue about who’s better looking some other time?” Nija groaned. “Besides, I’m obviously hotter.”

The door to the hallway opened and Logan tensed.

A guard fell to the ground with a chatter.

“What the-?”

A small figure slipped inside.

“Virgil?” Logan stepped up to the cell bars.

“You can leave the ship?” Janus raised an eyebrow. “That’s new.”

“Are you okay?” Virgil’s voice shook slightly.

“About to become god sacrifice but other than that okay,” Roman smirked. “Can you break the lock?”

“I can try,” Virgil raised his knife and took the lock in hand.

It fell just moments later and the cell door slid open. Nobody listened when Janus muttered that it was easier with a knife.

They only encountered two people on their way out but they didn’t even get the chance to shout before they were knocked out.

Logan let his gaze linger on Virgil.

Even though it had been over ten years he was still a teenager. Maybe a bit older than back when they’d met but barely.

He was shorter than Nija and didn’t even have that awkward lankyness most teens had, as if he hadn’t even reached his growth spurt yet.

Logan heard Remus chuckle behind him which was usuall a bad thing, but before he could react Remus had swooped past him, taken his hat and dumped it on Virgil’s head.

It slid over his eyes and Virgil stumbled before pushing it up slightly.

He shot Remus a confused look and went to take the hat off but Logan stopped him.

“Keep it for now. It suits you.”

-_-_-_-_-

Logan pulled the grip slightly and watched the ship pass though ‚the curtain‘ as Roman had named it. There was something nervwrecking about sailing through the very fabric of reality into another world.

He also had to be ready for any terrain they might end up in and had to be ready to adjust as needed.

„Sky!“ Virgil called and immediatly everyone was moving.

The main mast was split in half into wing like constructions in seconds, far quicker than the first time they‘d flown.

Logan streered them higher until they broke through the clouds and were under the bright morning sky of another world.

„There‘s something starboard!“ Virgil called. „I think it‘s an Island!“

„Can we check it out?“ Patton turned to Logan with a wide smile.

„Sure, why not?“

It didn‘t take long for the island to come into view and Virgil climbed down to lean against the railing.

„How…?“ Logan heard him whisper and he leaned over it, nearly falling. „It is!“

„Do you know this place?“ he asked.

If Virgil heard him he ignored him completely. He dashed over the ship towards the bow.

“The island has a harbour,” Janus called over to Logan. “Should we land?”

He glanced over to Virgil and back to Logan.

“Yes, let’s land.”

“Can I come with you?” Virgil asked as soon as they landed in the harbour. “Please?”

He had left the ship only two times even after the cult island, usually refusing when Patton or anyone else offered to take him on shore.

“Of course,” Logan answered. Virgil still hadn’t answered how he knew this place, but if it was this important to him, Logan couldn’t exactly say no.

While Patton, Janus, Mul and Nija stayed behind, Logan, Virgil and the twins wandered away from the ship, and Logan watched Virgil grow more and more restless, looking for something.

They didn’t meet a single person in the narrow streets of what looked like had once been a rich town. Remus wondered aloud if they’d find corpses anywhere, earning himself a playful smack from Roman.

The sudden sound of footsteps made them stop on a crossroad.

Logan let his hand rest on his cutlass.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had guests around here,” a man’s voice spoke up behind them.

Virgil swirled around in a heart beat.

“Dad!”

He dashed towards the man and tackled him in a hug.

“What?!” Roman blurted out.

The man looked down at Virgil slightly confused. He had a scruffy beard and dark tanned skin. He looked like someone who worked outside in the sunlight a lot.

He reached up to put his hands on Virgil’s shoulders and pushed him off slowly.

“Virgil?” he asked, sounding just as surprised as Roman. “You’re alive?”

“I watched over the ship,” Virgil smiled up at the man. “Just like you told me to!”

But the man didn’t even seem to listen.

“How are you alive?” he asked, louder this time. “I sent you out of this world into time so you could age. You shouldn’t be alive!”

“What do you mean?” Logan could hear the smile slip off Virgil’s face.

“I put you on that ship to die. What are you doing back here?” the man nearly growled this time.

“What-? You said you needed me to watch over her,” Virgil sounded so much more like the kid he was, than Logan had ever heard him.

Following an impulse he stepped forward and put his body between Virgil and the man.

“Who are you?” the man hissed at him.

He was intimidating, sure, but Logan had messed with gods before. He wasn’t afraid of this asshole.

“I am Captain Logan Conley. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

-_-_-_-_- 

Virgil heard Dad answer but he couldn’t really hear what he said. His ears were ringing.

Here on the Island there was no time, he knew that. It was why Dad had taken him elsewhere a lot when he had been little. Just so he would actually age.

But this time Dad had wanted him to stay gone.

He’d sent him away to die.

Suddenly everything was too loud.

The Captain was yelling and Dad was yelling and Dad had lied, he’d lied to him, he’d wanted him dead!

He had to get away.

Virgil ran past the twins, through the familiar paths back to the ship.

Muscle memory wanted him to climb up into the rigging - “You have to watch over the ship, it’s important” - but that was a lie too, wasn’t it?

“Hey, kid-” he barely heard Patton as he rushed past and down into the ship’s hold.

Down in the cargo bay he curled up, hiding behind a crate.

For a while he was alone. Long enough for him to catch his breath and stop crying at least.

Then he heard footsteps.

“Can we sit down by your side?” Remus asked, his voice softer than usual.

Virgil glanced up.

The twins stood a few feet away, waiting for an answer.

He nodded.

Remus sat down to his left, Roman to his right.

“Hey, kid,” Roman said.

“Hey,” Virgil’s voice sounded brittle even to his own ears.

“So, this is where you’re from,” Roman nodded. “It’s a nice Island... How long did you live here?”

Virgil shrugged.

“There’s no time here,” he said even though he was pretty sure they had gathered that much by now. “Physically,” he added after a moment of thought,” I think I was... six?”

His voice wobbled on the last word as more tears threatened to spill.

Remus sighed.

“You know, family is pretty complicated sometimes,” he spoke up. “You always think, and people tell you, that family is your blood and the people you grow up with. Like your dad for you, my father and mother, so on and so fourth. But... That’s bullshit. It’s absolute crap. Family has nothing to do with blood.”

Virgil glanced up at him again.

“But you and Roman are brothers. You’re blood. You’re family.”

“We are,” Roman nodded. “But we’re family that just so happens to also be blood.”

Virgil frowned.

“I don’t get what you mean.”

“Family are the people you choose. The people you feel safe around, who you trust and who just... feel like home,” Remus tried to explain. “I know this sounds cliche but I don’t know how else to put it.”

“What we’re trying to say is... It’s hard when the people who you thought were supposed to love you don’t and you don’t know why, but it’s not your fault. And it doesn’t mean you’re alone. There are people who will love you,” Roman put an arm over Virgil’s shoulder. Lightly enough that Virgil could easily shake it off if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

“If you want us to, we could be your family,” Remus suggested.

“I-” Virgil’s breath hitched. “I’d like that.”

“Come here,” he could hear Roman smile and the next thing he knew he was being hugged from both sides.

He couldn’t stop himself from crying again.

“Don’t tell him I said this,” Remus spoke up again after a while,” but I’m pretty sure the Captain thinks of you as his son.”

“Patton definitely does,” Roman nodded.

“Patton thinks we’re all his kids,” Virgil managed between sobs.

“And honestly, I think we are.”

[timbertumbr]

Savior (Henrik Schneeplestien X Reader) Minecraft AU

This one-shot was inspired by clan warrior-tumbly. I’m not tagging them cause I don’t wanna annoy em and they don’t write for egos anymore (As far as I’m aware)

The grass was flattened every time you took a step. You had been walking for a few hours hoping to find the infamous Dr. Henrik Von Schneeplestien, an alchemist who used his knowledge to help those who were sick or in need of help.

But that’s not why he was infamous, he was infamous for being half endermen which made collecting stuff for his potions a heck of a lot easier. You weren’t looking for the doctor for any human patient, it was your dog that was in need of his knowledge. 

They hadn’t been eating and they were barely moving, this thought prompted you to go faster. Fortunately, you spotted a village in the distance and sighed in relief… Only to mentally slap yourself for realizing you had taken the unnecessarily long way to the village. You could’ve cut your walking time by taking the route you were going previously.

You shake your head and sigh, no use whining about it now. At least you had a quick way back. You approach a villager and tap their shoulder.

“Excuse me, do you know where I can find Dr. Henrik?” The villager nods and points to a shack far away from the village.

“Thank you!” You exclaim before speed walking towards the shack, knocking on the door frantically when you arrive. A few moments passed before the Enderman-Human Hybrid opened the door.

“Vhat is ze matter? Vhy are you knocking so frantically?” The doctor asks, you stare at him in awe before clearing your throat and explain what happened. The doctor tensed after you were done.

“I don’t know… I’m not sure how my potions vould affect animals…” He muttered with uncertainty.

“Can you at least try?” The doctor stared down at you for a long time before sighing and teleporting away from the door. Blinking in surprise, you enter the shack to see the doctor teleporting around, grabbing ingredients and putting them in the brewing stand while you watch in awe.

Once the potion was brewed, he handed it to you slightly embarrassed, not used to having people watch him work. 

“Here, zis should hypothetically help your pupper,” You smile and gently take the potion.

“Thank you so much!” You say before running off, Henrik sighs and nods to himself before closing the door.

A week passed and Henrik hasn’t seen or heard about you. A knock resounded through his home and he opened it, surprised to see you there holding a basket of bread, cakes, cookies, and some bottles of milk.

“Vhat is all zis?” He asked, confused, you just smile brightly.

“You potion worked wonders! So, as thanks I decided to bring some stuff for you!” You explain, handing him the basket.

“Oh, and my pupper wanted to say thanks too!” Before Henrik could question it, a dog sprinted from behind you and was on Henrik, yipping and licking his hand. Henrik chuckled and pet your doggo’s head.

“Thank you again, I’ll be going now since you’re probably super busy. See ya later!” You turn and begin to walk away with your doggo following closely behind. Henrik looks at the treats in thought before sighing.

“Vait,” You stop and turn to face him.

“I uh… Vould you like to come in? I mean, it’s been a vhile since anyone really… treated me like an equal,” He explained, you frowned for a split second before smiling.

“Of course!” You extend a hand.

“My name is Y/N, what’s yours?” Henrik blinks and takes your hand, shaking it.

“Henrik Von Schneeplstein, but you probably already know that,” You grin.

“Still doesn’t hurt to properly introduce yourself. Now come on, those treats aren’t going to eat themselves!” Henrik smiles as you walk in with no hesitation, he grabs the basket and leads you to his table where you two begin to eat and have a chat while your doggo sat nearby yipping on occasion. 

Looks like you both made a friend!

Want to Request? Please Read this before you do so.

[pengychan]

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 20

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by @swanpit​.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: Well, time for Coco to show up.

***

“What does it mean, you have a date?”

“I find your incredulous tone more than a little insulting.”

Sofía’s own tone is light, but Ernesto knows her well enough to tell she is not entirely joking there, and wisely decides to drop the matter. “All right, fine. I guess I’ll have to find someone else who is up to spend an enjoyable evening.”

“Oh yes,” Sofía mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I am sure you have men and women lined up waiting for the chance to ride your dick.”

“Of course I--”

“Come on, it’s obvious you don’t,” Sofía cuts him off. Ernesto can vaguely hear her TV going in the background. “You must be on your last leg to call me now. Desperate, desperately horny, or both. I’m guessing both.”

All right, so that hit close home, but he has precisely no intention to admit as much aloud. To her least of all. “I just figured I’d be generous to you, is all.”

“Clearly,” is the deadpan reply.

“But since you have no taste, I will make someone else’s night.”

“Right. Good luck with that,” she chuckles, and pauses. “... Seriously, though, how are you?”

Ernesto bits his lower lip before glancing out of the window. It has rained most of the day, but now there is only a drizzle. On days like that, they’d-- no. No, he shouldn’t go there. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“... Better, either way. I’m doing much better.”

“That’s good to know. All right, maybe we can meet for lunch tomorrow. Over lunch break, the place across the street from my salon?”

“Sure. Can’t wait to hear all about your date,” Ernesto says, a slightly mocking tone on the last word, and ends the call. And then… he proceeds to call no one else. 

It’s not that he’s run out of phone numbers to call or women to contact on social media, but so far he’s had depressingly little success. As it turns out, disappearing on every fling for a full year without so much a message and then just reappearing with no explanation given - much less a convincing one - is not a winning strategy to get them back in bed with him. Who’d have known.

Well, one did say yes, so they met at her place - only for her to step out, smack him across the face, and then go back in without a word. Ernesto had no idea what he may have possibly done to deserve it, but he knew better than to ask: there might just be a long, exhaustive answer to that question and he didn’t want to hear it.

With a sigh, Ernesto leans back on his couch and checks Instagram. His followers count is going up and up, especially after he and Héctor appeared on TV, and maybe he could go looking for someone interesting among them… but each time he opens a profile, he can barely focus on it at all.

All right, this is not working. I need something else.

He downloads Tinder again - when did he uninstall it? - and logs in, determined to give it a go. An hour and an undefined number of left swipes later, he briefly muses whether he should try  again with Grindr. In the end, he throws his phone aside and leans back with a sigh. 

Back to his old life, he said.

No strings but those of my guitar, he said.

Easier said than done.

***

This is the first time, as far as she can remember, that Imelda does not celebrate Día de los Muertos in Santa Cecilia. 

It’s a simple matter of common sense, really: eight months into the pregnancy, getting on a plane to Oaxaca sounds like an all-around bad idea. 

“I mean, if she’s born on the plane, she might get free flights for life with the company,” Héctor joked when they first discussed their options. “I heard it happened before.”

A lifetime of free flights sounds like a good perk, Imelda has to admit, but not worth birthing her child thirty-five thousand feet up in the air, possibly without doctors and with only a curtain separating her from the rest of the passengers - who, she suspects, would be less than thrilled about the disruption to their flight. 

The alternatives, a long car drive or God forbid an even longer bus ride, were entirely out of question. In the end, the only practical solution was for her parents to come over, so that they could spend those days together in Mexico City. They set off that morning, and Héctor is preparing to go pick them up at the airport.

They’re running later than expected because the flight was delayed, which hopefully won’t be too much of a problem for Ernesto. He’s going to see his parents for Día de los Muertos - ironic, that the one year they’re not going to Santa Cecilia, he goes - and he’s asked to borrow their car, so that he can go with his dogs instead of leaving them with someone else. 

“Didn’t appreciate me being gone last time I tried,” he’s said, causing Héctor to chuckle. 

“Could leave them with us, they’re used to being with us.”

“... I think you’ve got your house full as it is, amigo.”

There was a brief silence, which had been broken before it could turn sad, and of course they had agreed to let him borrow the car as soon as they’d used it to pick up her parents.

“Do you need me to get you something while I wait for them, mi amor?”

“Yes, thank you. I left you a list on the table.”

It is a long list, mostly items with enough sugar in them to sustain a small army, but Héctor makes no comment; he picks it up, just barely manages to get his facial expression under control before his eyebrows can shoot all the way up to his hairline, and steps over to kiss her. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Good luck.”

“The stuff you need isn’t that hard to find.”

“I was referring to driving my parents.”

A chuckle, another kiss on the bridge of her nose. “Your father’s fine,” he says, politely adding nothing about her mother before he leaves. Imelda glances out of the window to see him go… and Ernesto arrives. They stop to talk by the gate, Héctor probably apologizing for the delay in giving him the car, Ernesto shrugging in a way that is probably meant to convey it’s not a problem, he’s not especially eager to get going towards Santa Cecilia anyway.

And yet he’s going. That’s… odd, even taking into account the reconciliation with his parents which he still describes as a work in progress. Ernesto never cared all that much for the tradition, and as far as Imelda knows he never made an ofrenda of his own. He’d be more likely to go out partying, and pick up someone to spend the night with. How many times has she seen him from that same window, heading to the entrance with a man or a woman at his arm? More than she can count, although admittedly that has not happened… in a while.

Ever since things became serious between the three of us. And even after it ended, did either of us see him coming home with a date? Did he bring up a fling while talking to me or Héctor, brag about a conquest?

They haven’t and he didn’t. As far as Imelda is aware, Ernesto hasn’t been with anyone in the past few months.

So much for bouncing back, she thinks, and lets the curtain drop with a sigh while trying to ignore, with very little success, the part of her that has the audacity to be relieved at the notion.

***

“Hey! How are you doing?”

“Congrats on the album! Saw you on TV!”

“What about Héctor and Imelda? They’re not here, is their baby born yet?”

“Tell them I said hi!”

“Tell them to visit! Will they come to have her christened in the parish?”

“Hey, can I have an autograph so I can sell it?”

The walk to the cemetery and back - he promised Héctor to have a look at his parents’ grave for him, give it a clean-up, put on fresh flowers - was short, but it seemed to last so much longer with so many people recognizing him and stopping him for a chat. It’s not usually something he’d argue against, but there is a sting every time they ask about Héctor and Imelda and whether or not the baby is born yet.

He really hopes said sting can dull into something more bearable quickly, because it isn’t long until Coco is born and he’s expected to stand in as her godfather, which he’d really like to be able to do without feeling like something is squeezing his heart. 

It will pass. It must pass, he thought, and took care to walk back to his parents’ home through a different route with fewer people. Walking back in to be greeted by his dogs did help a little. His father did mutter that they are more like guinea pigs, but at least he appreciates the fact they cannot climb on the ofrenda to steal the offerings. Though not for lack of trying. 

The ofrenda at Ernesto’s family home is rather one-sided - which is to say, only her mother’s family is on it. Her parents, both dead by the time he was born, a couple of aunts, grandparents and so on. Plenty of García, a couple of Martinez, and not a single de la Cruz among them. 

Then again, it’s not a name that comes with a lot of history attached; it simply filled in a blank space on the birth certificate of a child surrendered at birth.

“You ever thought of looking for her?” Ernesto asks suddenly, while his mother is away to get more flowers and his father is watching the food on the stove. He’s drinking some kind of bland, alcohol free beer that Ernesto has found himself drinking as well out of solidarity. 

Estéban glances at him, a little confused, but comprehension dawns when his gaze moves to the doorway, onto the ofrenda in the next room over. He looks at the photos that are there, but mostly at those that are not. “... A couple of times. Never tried, though.”

“Why not?”

“She didn’t want me. I had better things to do than chasing someone who didn’t want me.”

Ernesto thinks back of the night he was kicked out and swore he was never, ever coming back. He thinks of what he desperately wishes he could have back, but cannot. He smiles bitterly. “I understand.”

“... I know you do.”

A brief silence, and once again it’s Ernesto to break it. “Might have had reasons. Might be that she wanted you, but-- couldn’t. Maybe things happened.”

We need to… to make some changes, Héctor said when breaking him the news. Even if we don’t like it.

Ernesto half-expects a scoff, dismissal, but what he gets is a thoughtful hum; he faintly wonders if his father discussed this while in therapy, but he knows better than to ask. He swore his mamá he would pretend not to know about the therapy part and, unlike her, he plans to keep his word. 

“Guess it’s possible. Makes no difference, though. Did well enough regardless.”

Except for the part where he was an alcoholic for a couple of decades during which he also kicked out his only son because he happened to like dick, Ernesto thinks, and the part where he had in general the emotional capacity of an uncooked tortilla and the temper of a rabid coyote. But he supposes that, aside for those neglectable details, he hasn’t done too bad.

“Could have done worse,” he concedes. 

Could have killed me, I guess.

“... Don’t patronize me. I know I haven’t been perfect--”

“Understatement.”

“-- but I am trying. And I don’t think digging in the past would help.” Estéban de la Cruz finishes  his can of non-alcoholic beer in a long swig. “I was an asshole. No point in trying to pin that on my mamá not wanting me.”

That wasn’t precisely where Ernesto was going, but to be entirely fair he is not sure what point he truly had in asking his father something so personal, so in the end he just nods and finishes his own beer. If his father is wondering why he even asked he makes no mention of it, and to be entirely honest it is a relief.

While he appreciates his efforts there are some conversations they are simply Not Having, and Ernesto’s personal business with his best friend and his wife is one of them.

“I’ll go take a photo of the ofrenda,” he finally says, causing Estéban to raise an eyebrow. 

“A photo? Why?”

“To put on Instagram.”

“Is it that website your mother hounded for photos of you?”

Ernesto hums, the notion of his mother going through his Instagram account and all the implications of it not really registering in his brain. There is an unread message flashing on the screen, distracting him - Héctor. 

Everything good over there? Your mamá feeding you?

Ah, right, he was supposed to get in touch after visiting his parents' grave. He was so busy trying to avoid people he knew on the way back, he entirely forgot to.

I’m putting up a kilo a day. All good, he writes back, and sends over a photo of the grave, all cleaned up, with flowers and all. Ricardo and Emilia smile from the photo on the headstone, and it’s hard to tell whose smile Héctor’s resembles most. 

Ernesto finds himself smiling faintly, too, as Héctor replies. Gracias. I owe you a favor.

You owe me nothing.

A drink, then.

I’ll take that, Ernesto writes, and puts the phone away without snapping any photos of the ofrenda, feeling just a little better.

***

If he had to describe that Día de los Muertos, Héctor supposes ‘bittersweet’ is the word for it.

It’s odd, not being in Santa Cecilia for it. Imelda is there with him, of course, as is her family, and there is an ofrenda in their living room - but not getting to visit his parents’ graves on the day is an odd sort of sting. He’d feel guilty, if they didn’t have excellent reasons not to travel that year.

Héctor is rather sure his mother would hit him over the head with a wooden spoon if he so much suggested putting his daughter at risk of being born on a plane or a bus in order to visit, and that helps. It also helps that Ernesto is there, looking after their grave in his stead. He is a good friend - the best friend he could have asked for, now more than ever before, and he’s glad he didn’t lose him. It’s good to have him back.  And yet… and yet.

Gracias. I owe you a favor.

You owe me nothing.

A drink, then.

I’ll take that.

Héctor smiles a little, and… doesn’t click the screen off just yet.

Only to drop the phone with a yelp when Imelda’s voice rings out right beside him. 

“All good back-- hey! Careful!” Her hands shoots out and somehow manages to catch his phone in mid-air, sparing him the utter pain of having to replace the screen or maybe the entire phone. She sighs. “Try to make this one last longer than three months,” she mutters, and glances at the screen. A moment of silence and then she gives a small, soft smile that Héctor suspects mirrors the one on his face only moments ago.

“Nice of him to take care of it.”

“Yes. We could have him over-- for dinner, or something. When he comes back.”

“Of course.” The smile on Imelda’s face fades a little, and she gives him back the phone. “Would be nice to have him over. We’ll tell Óscar and Felipe to be somewhere else for the evening. Cinema or something. Or maybe they can start getting some furniture in the room they’re renting,” she adds. 

Imelda is in equal parts amused and somewhat concerned by her brothers’ decision to move into a room in a house a few blocks away - their bid for freedom, as they call it, though they are still very close by in case any help is needed once Coco is born. Héctor likes having them around, but he cannot deny he looks forward to having the apartment all for Imelda and himself in the few weeks left before Coco’s arrival. 

And right now, it doesn’t escape him that she admitted she’d rather not have them there when Ernesto comes to visit. He glances at her, a mute question, and Imelda bites her lower lip. “... In case he needs to talk,” she says. Héctor nods. Of course - of course, it makes sense: if there are things yet unspoken, and God knows there are, they must be discussed without anyone else listening in. That need for secrecy is part of the reason why their arrangement couldn’t continue. 

Maybe the twins will understand, Héctor thinks, and he finds he actually believes they would. They’re young, open-minded in a way their parents - and most in Santa Cecilia - are not. Still, he doesn’t voice that thought: it would mean discussing the possibility that maybe, just maybe…

“I’ll tell him to bring a bucket of ice cream for you,” Héctor says instead, and Imelda laughs, smacking his arm lightly before she returns in the next room over where her parents and brothers are. Héctor clicks the phone’s screen on, and follows her - knowing full well that an honest conversation is just delayed, and wondering who will wind up cracking first.

***

In the end, they never do find out who among them may have cracked first. The dinner never happens, because something else does crack right before they sit at the dinner table. 

Break, more like.

And Imelda’s waters were not supposed to break for another two weeks at least, as Héctor repeats no less than seventeen times during the car ride to the hospital.

“We’re almost there, mi amor - stay calm, all right? Stay calm,” he is now saying to his remarkably calm wife, not at all calm himself. Ernesto chooses not to remark on that and keeps his eyes on the road instead. 

All right, so it’s time. This is happening. 

He’s had complicated feelings over the upcoming birth of Héctor and Imelda’s baby - his goddaughter, it’s easier if he thinks of her as his goddaughter - and he’s been bracing himself for her arrival as you do for an emergency landing: knowing that it’s coming no matter your feelings on the matter, that the plane must land and hopefully all will be well once it does. 

Now, however, everything is moving so fast he has no time to think, much less to feel anything other than urgency. One moment he’d been sitting at the dinner table, one moment Imelda had emerged from the next room over, pale but in full control, telling them it was time for her to go to the hospital. Héctor sprinted to retrieve the small suitcase she had prepared beforehand while Ernesto rushed to get the car, and he’s now in the process of weaving through traffic and ignoring the GPS’ suggestions in favor of a route that he knows will be somewhat less congested. 

There is a groan, a sharper breath, and he glances in the rear view mirror. “You all right there?”

Imelda looks back at him through the mirror, and for just a moment he can see how pale she is, how truly concerned for this monumental, frightening task ahead of her - deliver a new life into the world. And then she manages a smile.

“Just cursing over all that good food growing cold back home. The dogs and Pepita must be helping themselves to it. I won't be cleaning that mess,” she mutters, and Ernesto laughs, taking a turn. Even Héctor starts laughing - far more high-pitched than usual and somewhat frightened, but laughter it is. Imelda manages a chuckle before hissing again, a hand resting against her belly just as Ernesto takes another turn and gets right into the hospital’s parking lot, barely slowing down.

Imelda takes in a deep breath before opening the door. “I can walk to the entrance - they will be waiting for us, I called them before leaving,” she says, and steps outside. Héctor is immediately by her side, suitcase in hand, offering her his arm. He turns to look at Ernesto, eyes huge. 

It’s happening, those eyes say. I am about to be a father, they say. I’m terrified.

But when he speaks, Héctor says none of those things. “Thank you,” he tells Ernesto. His voice is calmer, but the grip on the suitcase remains so tight his knuckles are almost white. There is something stuck in Ernesto’s throat, and he forces himself to swallow it; the weight seems to settle in his chest. Ernesto clears his throat before speaking.

“Well, someone with a still functioning brain had to drive. Go in, I’ll-- I’ll park the car and get in the waiting room. Are you going to, uh, go in the delivery room, or…?”

“He’d better,” Imelda mutters, and there is more snickering. The rock-hard thing in Ernesto’s chest melts away a little. “Can you let my brothers know?" she adds. "They’ll tell our parents. I’m ready to bet they’ll be on the first plane back.”

“Of course,” Ernesto replies, and watches them walk to the entrance before he sighs and goes looking for a parking spot. It is only as he steps in the waiting room and reaches for his phone that he realizes there is a slight problem.

He has absolutely no idea what Imelda’s brothers’ phone numbers even are.

***

It is amazing, Imelda thinks, how much a newborn can look like a grouchy old man. 

“Mi amor, she’s beautiful.” Héctor’s voice is a little nasal as he still blinks away tears, cheek resting on top of her head and eyes fixed on the baby in her arms. 

In Imelda’s opinion she is most decidedly not beautiful - newborns just out of the birth canal, she finds, are some of the ugliest things one can imagine, skull still misshapen and features flattened - but she has no doubt whatsoever that Héctor absolutely means it. Must be the tears of joy, or love goggles, or both. Either way, it gets a tired smile out of her.

“Well worth the hassle,” she says, and oh, she means it. Labor was exhausting, if relatively short, and she wouldn’t wish the pain that had followed to her worst enemy - but for the tiny thing in her arms, blinking blearily up at them with the expression of someone who’s just had the worst day, Imelda knows she’d do it all over again. She strokes a tiny hand with her thumb just as Héctor speaks.

“Hola, Coco,” he says, so much tenderness in his voice it almost hurts. “I’m your papá. Actually, wait, more importantly-- this is your mamá. She made you.”

Like she’s a pair of shoes, Imelda thinks, and chuckles. She cannot recall being this happy with any of her creations up to now. “Your papá helped,” she says, kissing Coco’s forehead. “Don’t ask how until you’re older.”

“Wha-- oh! No no no, don’t ask at all!” Héctor exclaims, causing Coco’s eyes to shift back to him. She blinks, and Imelda can almost believe it’s out of surprise. “You’re just here, I’m not ready to think about giving you the Talk! Best if you ask your mamá about it, really. And about shoemaking. But if you want to learn how to make some good music-- what is it?” he asks, blinking, when Imelda bursts laughing. 

She cannot answer right away: she just laughs and laughs and laughs, causing Coco to start wailing, as though to join in, while Héctor looks at them both, saying nothing, taking in everything with a wide smile on his face.

***

More. More coffee.

Ernesto lets his last few coins drop into the machine, rubbing his face with his free hand. It’s been… three hours? Feels like more. There hasn’t been much for him to do, other than calling his mother with the odd request of trying to contact Imelda’s parents - he has no clue what their number may be, maybe she can find out or even visit them, they’re in the same damn town - to let them know what’s going on. 

For the most part he’s been sitting in the waiting room, with a growing pile of empty plastic cups on the floor in front of him. He goes to sit again, drinks the bitter hot coffee in one gulp, adds the cup to the pile, and leans back. 

He tells himself there is no reason to be nervous, of course giving birth cannot be done in a pinch, but the more he waits the more uneasy he feels. What if something went wrong, two weeks early shouldn't be cause for concern, but-- no, surely Héctor would come tell him-- or would he stay in, unable to leave her side while… while…

“ERNESTO!”

Héctor’s cry and the bang of the door slamming open causes several people in the waiting room and Ernesto to jump several feet up in the air, all hair standing on end, letting out a shriek he’ll barely manage to pass off as a grito later.

He has barely enough time to land again before Héctor throws his arms around him, laughing and crying, trying to lift him and failing miserably, dragging him into a clumsy half-twirl. “She’s here! Coco is here! She’s beautiful, the most beautiful baby girl you’ll ever see!”

Something aches just a little, a part of him that is still bitter and spiteful over being cast aside for her sake, but Héctor pulls back with such a wide smile it’s near impossible not to smile back. And he does. 

“Imelda…?”

“She’s fine, she was amazing. Resting now, but we can visit later. Oh! They’ll take Coco to the nursery, there is a window - want to come take a look at your goddaughter?

Ah, yes. I have a goddaughter now.

The ache grows duller, and Ernesto’s smile grows a bit brighter. “I would like that,” he says.

And means it.

***

A/N:  Imelda's reaction to Coco is kinda based off my grandmother's when she first saw my brother a hour after birth. He was ugly. Just, so damn ugly. All she could say looking at the crib was "... so, it's this one?", clearly hoping to be told that no, it was the next one over. And while grandma was never known to be the nurturing type, when an Italian grandmother cannot manage to pretend her newborn grandchild is cute, you know it's one ugly baby.

***

[Back]

[Next]

[youngbloodlisk]

Moonlight Boy // Merman Kevin AU

Part 2: Discovery & Confrontation

series masterlist

Kevin wakes up with a big stretch, right as Jacob leaves the bathroom.

Jacob, with a towel wrapped around his waist, rubs his hair with a smaller towel and notices his friend waking up.

"Hey, how was yesterday's exploring?"

Kevin can think of many words to describe it.

Insane, weird, terrifying, beautiful...

"Interesting." Kevin mumbles out with a deep morning voice.

"And tiring, apparently. I assumed you'd wake me up to tell me all about it and show me what you found."

"Not this time. I could barely keep my eyes open once I hit the bed. I didn't even change. I'm still in yesterday's clothes."

"Well, you better get up and hit the shower, since you didn't last night."

"You're right. You just got out?"

"Yeah, bathroom's all yours."

Kevin throws a thumbs up into the air and rubs his face to assist the process of waking up.

His body feels sore. It reminds him of growing pains from when he went through puberty...

The kind of pain you feel when your body is going through a change that it isn't used to.

He assumes he's just sore...

Eventually, after far too long, Kevin drags himself out of bed and trudges to the bathroom.

Mostly because he really needs to relieve himself, so that comes first. He then turns on the bathtub faucet and pulls the tab to make the shower turn on.

He takes off his clothes, which absolutely reek for some reason. The strange, almost crunchy feeling makes sense. They were soaked in salt water and then air dried. But why do the clothes have to smell so bad?

That island gets weirder and weirder by the minute.

Fully naked and feeling thoroughly dirty and disgusting, Kevin steps into the shower. The water flows down his body and he sighs at the comfortable feeling of the warm water. He closes his eyes, deciding to just stand there for a moment, enjoying the water.

Around ten seconds, however, and Kevin starts to sway back and forth.

Not by his own will, mind you. This is happening without him doing anything.

He feels an insane rush through his entire body, feeling as if the breath has been knocked out of him.

Before he can process anything that's happening, he sees a blue flash in front of his face and he's tumbling over. Kevin grabs onto the shower curtain, which only drags it down with him, before he hits the floor hard and the curtain rod gives a loud crash.

Kevin groans and tries to move his legs to stand up, but he can't.

In fact, he realizes, he can't even feel his legs at all.

The look on Kevin's face is absolutely priceless when he turns and looks behind him.

Where his legs should be, all he sees is a long, blue tail.

Such a thing like you only see in movies and those fake "Mermaids Are Real!!!" videos online.

(Although, Kevin is suddenly questioning just how fake those online videos actually are...)

"Kevin! Are you okay?" Jacob's voice snatches Kevin's attention away from the strange new development. "Did you fall? Are you hurt? Do you need help?"

"I'm fine, Cob. I fell over, I'm okay. I just... might be a while..."

"Might be a while? What does that mean...? Do you need help? I'm coming in, okay?" Kevin instantly realizes in hindsight that even though "it's just Jacob", he definitely should have locked the door. His heart drops as the door handle turns.

"No! Don't come in!" Kevin yells with urgency, which only worries his friend more.

"Why not? I've seen you naked before, Kevin. Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt, just leave me alone! I'm fine!"

Jacob is absolutely not buying it, but he decides against an argument.

"If you say so. If you need help, just yell for me!"

Kevin sighs with relief.

He has to gather his thoughts before he can deal with anyone else's.

First question: how the hell is he supposed to get rid of this thing?

Is he stuck like this?

Newsflash, it's pretty hard to dance their choreography onstage without legs.

Water activated it. Maybe no water will make it go away. He just needs to get dry.

Easier said than done when half of the tail is still under the running water and he can't reach the faucet to turn it off.

He props himself up onto his elbows and starts to crawl, in an effort to at least get into a position where he might eventually dry off.

Kevin flips himself over and finally gets a better look.

What the hell...

He's a fish...

He's... a fish...

What the HELL...

Deal with the how and the why later. Just get rid of it.

Kevin looks around for a towel... and, of course, they're all on the other side of the bathroom.

He does, however, spot the hairdryer. It's sitting on the counter, plugged up, and the cord is hanging low enough that he's able to pull it down.

It hits him pretty hard in the chest when it falls off the counter, but he really doesn't care.

He cranks it up to the highest setting and starts trying to evaporate the water.

Jacob is getting far more suspicious now.

First the crash, the water is still running, he heard Kevin grunting, and now the hairdryer is on?

"Kevin? What are you doing?"

"Nothing! I'll be out in a few minutes!"

It takes a lot longer than a few minutes, but eventually the hairdryer has done it's job.

Another flash of blue covers Kevin's vision, and his body feels a quick tingling rush again.

"Oh thank goodness." Kevin clutches his chest when he sees his legs reappear.

Finally, something normal and familiar.

He notices that he feels as if he's just taken a full shower. Smelling himself, he smells clean.

Thoughts fill his mind...

Why did this happen?

Why him?

What does this mean? Every time he touches water, he becomes a fish boy?

How did this happen?

How is this even possible?

He's read about mermaids and mermen in fairytales but seeing that stuff in person... it's terrifying.

Should he tell anyone?

Should he tell Jacob?

Kevin knows he can trust Jacob with anything, and Jacob will be willing to help him try to figure this out.

Telling Jacob seems like an okay idea.

Kevin stands up and grabs a towel to wrap around his waist.

He doesn't even pick up his clothes before he leaves the bathroom.

He gets dressed while he tries to work out a way to tell his best friend that he's a... merman...

Wow, that's such a weird word when it's you...

As Kevin plays through different scenarios in his mind, he can't decide on one that seems like it would 100% go over well.

Not yet, at least...

He starts to think that maybe he needs to figure this out on his own before he tries to tell anybody.

"Kevin? You okay?" Jacob snaps Kevin out of the spaced out trance he didn't even realize he was in.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm good. Time to go?"

"Yeah, everyone's waiting downstairs."

The day consists of final rehearsals for the concert taking place that night.

Stage placements, equipment checking, full run through, first soundcheck, the like.

Kevin leans against an equipment container after they've gone through their setlist for the second time.

Sweat is practically dripping off of him and his breathing is heavy.

"Kevin!" Eric calls out, tossing a cold water bottle at the boy when he looks up.

Kevin thoughtlessly catches it, but the moment he feels it covered in water from the cooler, he drops it and grabs the towel nearby (which was meant to be used to wipe off sweat).

He doesn't know if anything will happen, but he's certainly not in the mood to take a chance. He dries his hands off as fast as possible.

Kevin definitely doesn't miss the strange look his youngest member is giving him, having watched the whole thing happen.

"Okay, guys!" The Boyz's manager claps his hands loudly to catch all 11 members' attention. "Lighting and graphics need some time to work on last minute stuff, so your break time is gonna start earlier than expected. The car will take you wherever you want, just make sure you have a way to get back to the venue by 3pm. Go."

Kevin picks up the water bottle with that same towel and, once checking that it's still sealed, returns it to the cooler. Very carefully, of course, making sure to keep his hands from touching any ice or water.

Everyone piles into the car, far too small to actually fit all eleven boys plus staff members... but they squeeze in nonetheless.

Kevin isn't quite sure where he's going, but he knows he's gonna join Jacob wherever Jacob decided to go.

Which ends up being a juice bar, to which Changmin decides to tag along.

"What can I get you guys?" A blonde girl with a straight ponytail, a pastel patterned shirt, and a notepad walks up their table.

"Umm... I'll get a cola. Q, what do you want?" Changmin points to the extremely over-complicated smoothie title on the menu for Jacob to read aloud for him, not feeling quite confident enough to attempt it himself. To be fair, Jacob isn't totally sure he said it right either.

"Alright, and for you?" The waitress turns towards Kevin, and Kevin notices that she tenses slightly when he looks up at her.

"I'll have a Banana Beatbox."

"Good choice, that's my favorite. I'll have those right out for you."

Jacob kindly thanks her as she turns and leaves.

The three boys make small talk of their own type, and the waitress soon returns with the drinks. Kevin looks to her name tag and finds out her name.

Emma.

"You three aren't from around here, are you?" She asks, setting down the drinks.

"Ah, yeah. I'm sure the accent gave it away." Kevin smiles. "We're actually from South Korea."

"Wow! I've heard people say they're visiting from America, England, Canada, and Spain before, but I've never heard South Korea. How long will you guys be in town?"

Kevin can't get past the strange look she has on her face. She keeps glancing at him...

Once Emma's question is answered, she wishes them well on their trip and tells them to enjoy their drinks before leaving again.

What Kevin doesn't know is the conversation taking place only a couple tables away, between three girls and a boy. One of those girls being Emma.

"What are we supposed to do? We know it's him, we know he isn't gonna be here long, but we don't know if anything... actually happened to him."

"Of course something happened." The curly blonde girl shakes her head in response to the brunette girl. "We left the moon pool right before the moon started rising, and there was no shoe at the bottom of the pool then. We went back right after the moon was gone and suddenly there's a shoe in the pool and a driver's license with his face on it near the land entrance. He has to have powers."

"Fine, Rikki, if you're so sure..." Emma chimes in. "You talk to him."

"She can't just walk up to him and say she needs to talk to- oh, okay, maybe she can."

Rikki takes long strides, walking right up to the table.

"You." She stares Kevin straight in the face.

"Me?"

"Come with me."

"Why?"

"That's what I need to find out." She takes his drink out of his hand and puts it on the table, taking his hand and pulling him out of his seat.

"Rikki, I was joking." The boy says.

"Lewis, I wasn't."

Kevin is thoroughly confused as he's dragged into the back room by this Rikki girl, being followed by her friends.

Once they're all inside with the door closed and being held shut by one of the girls, Rikki says nothing. She simply takes a drink out of the hand of one of her friends and pours it on Kevin's arm.

"Rikki!"

The exclamatory nature of the scolding from Rikki's friends perfectly match Kevin's internal panic as he tries desperately to find something around him that he can dry his arm with (to no avail).

"Well, what did you expect me to do?"

"Maybe start with a simple... did you go to Mako Island last night?"

"That's not how I work. He easily could have lied! He can't lie about this!"

"You better catch him then."

"Then I'll be on the floor too, do you want that?"

Kevin feels that same rush he felt that morning. The still unfamiliar tingling feeling, and the blue flash in front of his face. He feels himself wobbling and falling.

The suspicions of these four strangers are confirmed with the loud smack of Kevin's body hitting the floor.

"Okay... what do you want from me? How did you know that was gonna happen?" Kevin's panic only grows, realizing that now four people know about this, but they somehow knew about it already.

"Are you Kevin Moon?"

"What's it to you?" Kevin is thinking the less information he gives these strange people, the better.

"Do you wanna dry off or not? Answer the question." It's clear that Rikki is quite a hothead.

"Rikki, he might be able to dry himself." The brunette comments.

"If he could, he would have. Or... if he knew he could... what's your power, Kevin?" Rikki directs yet another question to him.

"Power? What the hell are you talking about?" Kevin is desperate for answers and a normal body, hoping these people can give him at least one of the two. Preferably both.

"Dry the poor guy." The brunette says with a sympathetic tone, almost seeming to pity Kevin.

"Cleo, we're trying to get answers here-"

"So is he." Cleo gives Rikki a look, and Rikki sighs.

She extends her hand out, slowly curling her fingers. Kevin lets out a started noise when he feels his body begin to heat up.

Fast.

It's only a matter of seconds before he feels a rush and is able to stand up.

He backs up as far away from these people as possible.

"What do you want from me?"

"We wanna help you." Cleo holds a genuine look and tone.

"How would you be able to help me?"

"We can answer questions, give you insight as to what's happened to you." Emma takes a step forward.

Kevin simply gives them a totally confused look, and Rikki rolls her eyes.

"Us three are mermaids, you're a merman, it's not rocket science."

Kevin takes a minute to let it sink in.

He's a merman. An actual, real life merman...

"You mentioned Mako... this is because of that weird pool isn't it?"

They nod in response and Lewis pipes up with a very good point.

"We should go somewhere we can really talk. It won't be long before people get suspicious about us being in here."

[kpopblurbs]

8:00pm

Pairing: Jae/Wonpil Word Count: 3.8k Tags: Porn With Plot, Sex Shop AU, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Anal Plug, Hair-pulling, Vibrator, Slight sub!Jae, Sungjin is there for banter A/N: owo whats this? a sex shop au written by someone who actually works at a sex shop?? Real talk tho what wonpil does is exactly what every creep that comes into the shop i work at wishes i would do Smutmas Masterlist AO3 Link

Wonpil sighed as he paced around the store, fixing the items that customers had messed up and making sure that everything was as it should be before returning to the front counter. "Morning shift sucks," he said as he propped an arm up on the counter to rest his chin on.

"Yeah well, better this than dealing with the drunks." Sungjin responded without looking up from his book.

"I dunno I think that's fun, they at least laugh at my jokes," Wonpil pouted.

"They're drunk, their judgment is impaired."

"You're crabby in the morning."

"And you have too much energy."

Wonpil opened his mouth to respond when the door chime rang out indicating the arrival of a customer. Immediately the smaller boy walked in the direction of the door spouting his usual, "Hi, welcome, looking for anything specific today?" upon seeing the boy who had entered. He was much taller than Wonpil, a bit thinner too but above all else he seemed very nervous.

"No, I uh, I'm just looking," the boy said and Wonpil smiled.

"First time in a sex shop?" Wonpil asked.

"Uh- yeah," the boy said, refusing to make eye contact with Wonpil.

"Well if you have any questions at all don't hesitate to ask, this is a judgment free zone I promise," Wonpil said in his best reassuring voice.

The boy nodded, mumbling a "Thanks,'" before wandering off into the store. Wonpil let out a sigh, he had been hoping for something to do but it seemed like the boy was going to be one of those customers that wanted to be left alone and likely didn't buy anything.

"Why don't people want help?" Wonpil asked with a pout as he returned to the counter.

"Sex is an awkward topic for most people," Sungjin responded, still not looking up from his book.

"Whatcha readin'?" Wonpil asked, peering over the counter to make his best attempt at reading the words on the page though it was upside down for him.

Sungjin sighed, "A very interesting book that I would love to read in peace."

"But what else am I supposed to do if not continue to bother you?"

"Go clean something," Sungjin said, grabbing a rag from behind the counter and tossing it to Wonpil, "Preferably near the guy who came in, make sure he's not stealing."

Wonpil sighed overdramatically but grabbed the rag and headed off in the direction of the boy. He picked a section where he could keep an eye on the boy before beginning to dust all the merchandise in that section.

It wasn't long until he was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He looked up to see the boy standing next to him, "Can you, uh, help me?" he asked and Wonpil smiled.

"Of course!" he said, stuffing the rag into the pocket of his apron, "What can I help you with?"

"Well, I was, uh, looking for something to help me, yknow..." the boy trailed off awkwardly before making an awkward jerking motion with his fist.

"Oh we have a ton of stuff for masturbation," Wonpil said, his straightforward tone making the boy blush slightly. He led the boy to a wall stocked full of various fleshlights and masturbators and began to explain the differences between all of them.

Wonpil could tell the boy was getting a little overwhelmed and stopped himself from continuing to overexplain the wall, opting instead to grab a smaller off-brand fleshlight and hand it to the boy. "I know you're new to this so trust me when I say that's the one you want to start with, if you like it you can invest in a better one, if not, throw it out like nothing happened," Wonpil explained.

"Do you, uh, do you have one that doesn't look like a..." the boy started, trailing off and allowing Wonpil to cut him off.

"Vagina? Of course, do you want ass or mouth?"

The boy blinked slowly, "The first one," he said and Wonpil nodded, grabbing the toy out of the boys hand and replacing it with the correct one. 

"Anything else I can help you with?"

“No, I think that’s it,” the boy said, giving Wonpil a small smile that made his heart flutter.

“Alright, well feel free to wander around for as long as you want but if you’re done then Sungjin up at the counter can help you check out,” Wonpil said with a smile, waiting for the boy to nod before turning around and going back to his cleaning.

He watched as the boy headed up to the counter and waited for the sound of the door chime indicating he had left before making his way back to the counter. “He was cute,” he said with a pout as he leaned on the glass countertop.

“Why do you insist on leaning on the counter when you know that means I’ll have to clean it?” Sungjin asked exasperatedly, finally looking at the smaller boy since helping the customer meant he had to close his book.

“I’ll clean it later, didn’t you think he was cute?” Wonpil asked.

“I mean yeah but he’s much more your type,” Sungjin responded with a shrug.

“You think?”

“Yeah, I mean you being all heart eyes over him is proof enough,”

“Fair point,” Wonpil sighed, “You think he’ll come back in?”

“He seemed happy when he left.”

Wonpil smiled, “Good.”

It was about a week later when the boy returned, once again stopping Wonpil from continuing to harass Sungjin out of boredom. This time he headed straight for the counter, surprising Sungjin and Wonpil who had missed the sound of the door due to their bickering. “Hi,” the boy said, catching both boys’ attention before settling his gaze on Wonpil, “I don’t know if you remember me but I was in here about a week ago?” the boy said asked.

Wonpil nodded, “Yeah, I remember, how’d that masturbator work for you?” 

The boy cleared his throat awkwardly, “That’s uh, actually what I was hoping to talk to you about, can we maybe uh..” the boy trailed off, tilting his head in a direction away from the front counter.

“Yeah of course,” Wonpil pushed himself away from the counter and lead the boy to the other side of the store, “What’s up?” he asked.

“Okay so,” the boy started, “I don’t even know if this is something you can help me with but I used the thing and it was like... disappointing?”

“Disappointing?” Wonpil asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Yeah, I dunno, it’s like I was expecting something but it just felt like..” he sighed, “It kindof just felt like using my hand but maybe like a little different?”

“Maybe you just need to get more comfortable with it?” Wonpil suggested.

“Like just use it more?”

“Yeah, like try again but, and I don’t know how you did it the first time but, try making like an experience out of it.”

“Like... how?”

“Well, yknow, drag it out, don’t just make it like a few strokes and you’re good, tease yourself with it.”

“I’ve, uh, I’ve never done that before,” the boy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “I’m sure you have a lot more experience than I do,” he mumbled.

Wonpil was trying his hardest to keep himself from potentially making the boy uncomfortable by offering up some assistance but that task was proving incredibly difficult the more this cute boy talked. "I mean, I had to learn this knowledge too, though I will say it helped having my boyfriend at the time walk me through it," Wonpil said with a shrug.

"Oh so you're, uhm, you're gay?" the boy asked

"Yup," Wonpil responded with a smile.

"Oh, I uh, that's cool, uh, same," the boy mumbled awkwardly.

There was that little devil on Wonpil's shoulder again, pushing him to offer up his services, this time it was shouting at him too loud to ignore so he decided to test the waters. "Yknow, toys like this can definitely be more fun with a little help," Wonpil said, putting on his best customer service voice just in case the boy was less than receptive.

"I-I mean I don't really have anyone to help me so.." the boy trailed off with a shrug.

"Do you want someone to help you?"

"I mean, that'd be nice but finding someone is easier said than done," the boy responded, clearly not picking up on what Wonpil was implying.

"I dunno, help could be closer than you think."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're dense," Wonpil said with a sigh, "Lucky you're cute."

"Hey!" the boy said before actually registering what Wonpil was saying, "Wait you think I'm cute?"

"What's your name?" Wonpil asked, preparing to make his offer perfectly clear.

"Oh, uh, it's Jae."

"Well, Jae, I’m Wonpil and I'm offering up my services and knowledge to help you figure out your new toy," Wonpil explained, enjoying the way Jae's cheeks turned pink as he talked.

"O-oh."

"Feel free to say no, but you're very cute, and I'm very gay, and I'm really good with my hands," Wonpil said, punctuating his last statement with a wink.

"I-I-" the boy started to talk before stopping to take a breath and collect himself, "I think that sounds nice."

Wonpil beamed, "Good!" he said happily, "Just wait right there for a second."

The boy nodded and Wonpil scurried off to the counter, "Gimme a pen and a sticky note, I'm trying to get a cute boy to dick me down, " he said to Sungjin as he slammed his hands down on the counter.

"Too much information," Sungjin said with a sigh before passing the requested items to the smaller boy. Wonpil scribbled down his phone number and grabbed the sticky note, tossing a "Thanks!" over his shoulder as he rushed back to Jae.

"Text me when you're free," Wonpil said as he handed the paper to Jae.

"Thanks, yeah, I will, is there, uh, anything I should buy, yknow while I'm here?" Jae asked.

"I can bring options, we'll experiment before I make you buy anything," Wonpil responded with a wink.

"Sounds good, I'll uh, I'll text you then," Jae said and Wonpil nodded, smiling brightly as Jae turned to leave. 

Wonpil waited until he had left the store before scurrying back to the counter, "Mission get cute boy to dick me down is a success,” he said happily.

“Congrats, buddy,” Sungjin said before reaching behind the counter and grabbing a basket full of items, “Now go put all this back out on the shelves.”

Wonpil sighed as he grabbed the basket, “You’re no fun,” he pouted before heading off to do what he was told.

Jae wound up texting Wonpil that day, the both of them settling on a night that week to meet up at Jae’s house. Wonpil was perfectly punctual, knocking on Jae’s door exactly when they had agreed to meet. The door swung open a few moments later, revealing Jae in casual clothes, his hair still wet from the shower he had to have just taken. “Oh, Wonpil, sorry I totally lost track of time, please come in,” Jae said, stepping aside and allowing the smaller boy to walk inside.

“You’re fine, I mean if all goes well we’re only gonna get messy right?” Wonpil said with a wink as he slipped past Jae.

Jae chuckled as he closed the door, “Fair point,” he said before taking a breath, “So, I’ve never done this before so like.. Bear with me.”

“No worries, we’ll move at your pace,” Wonpil said as he stepped closer to Jae, “That just means you’ll have to be the first to kiss me,” he continued lowly, looking up at the taller boy.

Jae gulped, “Can I kiss you?” he asked at a near whisper.

Wonpil nodded, “Please do.”

Jae closed the distance between them, bringing his hand to Wonpil’s cheek as he leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Wonpils. Jae was about to pull away when Wonpil reached up and grabbed him by the back of the neck, keeping him there to deepen the kiss. Jae squeaked in surprise but recovered quickly, falling into rhythm with Wonpil and even opening his mouth slightly and allowing the smaller boy to slip his tongue into Jae’s mouth. 

Wonpil moved his hand up from the back of Jae’s neck and into his hair, tangling his fingers into the strands and tugging gently. Jae let out a soft moan into the kiss before breaking it off, pulling back just barely enough to speak though their noses were almost touching. “What happened to moving at my pace?” Jae asked with a slight chuckle.

“I’m a very impatient person,” Wonpil responded with a shrug.

“Well maybe we should move at your pace, then,” Jae suggested.

Wonpil smiled, “In that case we should move this to your bedroom,” he said with a wink. Wonpil loosened his grip on Jae’s hair, allowing him to pull away and lead Wonpil to the bedroom.

As soon as they entered the room Wonpil dropped the bag that he had brought to the ground and pushed Jae onto the bed before climbing on top of him to reconnect their kiss. He brought one hand back to Jae’s hair to tug on it gently, Jae put his hands on Wonpil’s hips, squeezing gently as he tried to hold back the whine that bubbled up in his throat. This time it was Wonpil who broke the kiss, “Where’d you put the toy?” he asked as he sat up still straddling Jae.

“Drawer,” Jae said, gesturing to the bedside table. Wonpil crawled off of Jae, moving across the room to grab his bag and pull out a couple of items before returning to the bedside table and pulling Jae’s toy out of the drawer.

He tossed the items down on the bed next to Jae, “Yknow, in order for this to continue you’re gonna need to not be wearing pants,” Wonpil said with a wink. Jae was quick to react, shimmying out of his sweatpants and tossing them to the ground. He paused for a second before realizing that he hadn’t been wearing any underwear and bringing a hand up to cover himself shyly. Wonpil chuckled, “You’re cute, here, I’ll make it fair,” he said before shedding himself of his clothes. He reached down to pull Jae’s shirt up, the older boy lifting himself up to allow Wonpil to tug the fabric up over his head.

Wonpil tossed the shirt to the ground before crawling back up on the bed and sitting himself next to Jae. He brought a hand to Jae’s chest, using a finger to trace gentle patterns across his skin while his other hand went back to Jae’s hair. Jae squirmed awkwardly like he was unsure of what to do with himself, Wonpil decided to take mercy on the boy and moved his hand down. Jae gasped as Wonpil wrapped his hand around his dick, he stroked him a couple of times before realizing what he had forgotten and pulling away. Jae looked up at him with hurt in his eyes, “I brought some things,” Wonpil said.

Jae looked at him curiously, “Should I be nervous?” he asked.

“Only if you’re afraid of feeling good,” Wonpil said with a wink. He reached for the items on the bed, picking up the bottle of warming lube he brought and showing it to Jae, “Step one of my genius three step plan.”

Jae watched as Wonpil cracked open the lube and drizzled some over his hand before moving back to wrap his hand around Jae’s dick. Jae hissed at the cold sensation of the lube as Wonpil stroked him before he felt it start to warm up. Wonpil continued to stroke him slowly, his clean hand still tugging on Jae’s hair gently. With a particularly strong tug on his hair, Jae couldn’t hold back the low moan as his hips bucked up into Wonpil’s hand. Wonpil smiled, “So you like having your hair pulled,” he hummed, “We’ll play with that another time,” he said with a wink.

Wonpil pulled his hand away from Jae’s hair to grab the soft silicone fleshlight, “Let’s see if I can make you fall in love with this,” he said. He held it up for Jae to see before positioning it over Jae’s dick, using the hand that was already there to line Jae up with the opening before lowering the toy onto his dick. Jae let out a moan as Wonpil began to move the toy up and down, his pace quickening until he had Jae squirming beneath him.

“Pil -ah- please,” Jae gasped.

“What do you need?” Wonpil asked softly, not slowing down the pace of the toy.

“I need to cum, please,” Jae begged.

“Aw, do you need my permission? That’s so cute,” Wonpil cooed before pulling the toy completely off of Jae, “But I can’t let you cum so soon.”

Jae let out a whimper as his hips bucked desperately, “Please, no, please I-” he whined, cut off by Wonpil hushing him.

“Shh, baby, you’ll get to cum just not yet,” Wonpil soothed, waiting until Jae calmed down before sinking the toy back down on his dick. This time he picked up the other toy he had brought, a small vibrator that he promptly switched on and pressed to the outside of the fleshlight. Jae moaned loudly as the vibrations traveled through the silicone surrounding his dick, his hips bucked wildly as he tried to get more stimulation.

Eventually, Wonpil just held the toy still, letting Jae fuck up into it at his own pace, enjoying the way the older boy was falling apart in front of him. It didn’t take much longer for Jae to reach the edge again, he wasn’t subtle about it in the least, the movement of his hips was getting sloppier and his moans were louder and more desperate. Wonpil waited just a few more moments before turning off the vibrator and pulling the toy away.

“Come on,” Jae whined desperately, “Please, Piri, I need to cum please.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have the real thing, though?” Wonpil asked.

“Fuck, wait, seriously?”

Wonpil laughed, “You didn’t think you were gonna have all the fun did you?”

“I-I don’t know what I thought,” Jae responded.

“Cute,” Wonpil hummed before setting the toys down and moving back to straddle Jae. He grabbed Jae’s hand and moved it to his ass, “I try my best to think ahead,” he said as Jae felt the jewel on the end of the plug Wonpil had put in before he had arrived.

“Holy shit, Wonpil,” Jae muttered softly, “Can I?”

“Go for it,” Wonpil responded with a smile. Jae grabbed the end of the plug gently, pulling on it slowly and watching the way Wonpil’s brow furrowed as the plug moved. Jae experimented a bit, pulling it out just enough for Wonpil to feel the stretch before pushing it back in. “Now who’s a tease?” Wonpil said cheekily, trying to maintain his composure though there was a slight tremble to his voice.

“Karma’s a bitch,” Jae responded, wiggling the plug around gently so it brushed against Wonpil’s prostate making him let out a moan.

“If you -ah- if you don’t quit teasing I’ll never let you cum,” Wonpil said between gasps as Jae continued to wiggle the plug around.

Immediately Jae relented, pulling the plug out of Wonpil’s ass slowly and setting it to the side, “Not even gonna risk that,” he said making Wonpil let out a chuckle.

“Good boy,” he hummed, not missing the way Jae bit his lip, a hint of a blush ghosting his cheeks, “God, you’re like an endless list of kinks to explore,” Wonpil said with a smile.

“S-Shut up,” Jae responded quickly.

“Oh don’t worry we’ll experiment with that later,” Wonpil winked at Jae before reaching behind him and grabbing Jae’s dick gently. He lined Jae up with his hole before sinking down, letting out a low moan as he lowered himself down fully. He paused to let himself adjust to the intrusion, the plug had helped to prep him but the stretch still burned slightly.

Jae brought his hands to Wonpils hips, “Fuck, that toy sucks,” he gasped out.

“Hey, that’s not fair to the toy, I’m incomparable,” Wonpil said with a giggle.

“Yeah, you really are,” Jae responded. Wonpil winked before lifting himself up slowly until just the tip of Jae’s cock was still in him before sinking back down. Both boys let out a moan as Wonpil continued to ride Jae, he set a quick pace from the start. Having not gotten any attention yet, Wonpil was feeling particularly needy, his pace was sloppy from the start, paying no heed to accuracy as he chased his own high. Jae’s grip was tight on Wonpils hips, “Wonpil, please I’m close,” he whined desperately.

“Hold it back,” Wonpil instructed, stopping his movements to grind himself on Jae’s lap, maneuvering himself until he felt Jae’s dick brush against his prostate. Wonpil cried out as he kept that angle, going back to lifting himself up and sinking back down quickly so that Jae’s dick brushed his prostate every time.

“Fuck, shit, Wonpil please I can’t,” Jae gasped.

“Just -shit ah- just a little longer Jae,” Wonpil managed to get out between moans. Jae bit his lip, his face scrunched up as he did everything in his power to hold back his orgasm. Wonpil brought his hand up to wrap it around his own dick, jerking himself quickly until he felt his orgasm rapidly approaching. “Okay, I’m close, you can cum,” Wonpil gasped quickly. Almost immediately Jae was letting out a broken moan as he came, Wonpil following close behind, his release landing on Jae’s stomach as he worked himself through his orgasm. 

Wonpil waited until they both caught their breaths before lifting himself off of Jae, biting his lip at the feeling of Jae’s cum leaking out of his hole. “Shower?” he asked hopefully.

“Definitely,” Jae responded, waiting for Wonpil to get up before following suit and leading the way to the bathroom. Jae turned on the shower and they waited for the water to get warm before hopping in. Both boys helped each other get clean, Wonpil giggling occasionally as Jae ghosted his hands across the smaller boys body.

Once they were clean they hopped out of the shower, drying off quickly before heading back to the bedroom. “Tired or hungry?” Jae asked as they both collapsed back in bed.

“Hmmm, both,” Wonpil said with a smile.

“How about we order take out and then you can stay here tonight?” Jae offered.

“That sounds great,” Wonpil responded happily, snuggling into Jae’s side as the older boy grabbed his phone so they could pick a place to order from.

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Being Human - Chapter 07

<= Chapter 06

Summary : Snatcher gets a boo boo ! Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/62121352

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

New chapter ! I hope you'll like it ! I had a lot of fun writing this one ! Thank you so much for your likes, comments and reblogs everyone !!! I READ YOUR TAGS AND I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM !! Thank you so so so much !! Your comments and reblogs/likes are the best thing there is to keep me writing, you're all so amazing !!

The "Oh The Humanity" AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings​ !

Happy reading !

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Chapter 7 - “Well, isn’t that fantastic!”

Snatcher knew very well the kids were aliens. After all, from their attitude, their written language being very different to what he knew, their magical hats and hourglasses… It would be stupid to think those little girls were perfectly human. A mere human wouldn’t have been able to fight him like they did. The ghost knew all of that. However, when he had been brought into the children’s spaceship, it still shocked him quite a bit, whether it was psychologically or, well, physically.

The bow-wearing kid had suggested they all teleported back there, so they would have access to a whole range of equipment. Moonjumper had been tasked to stay in the Forest, guarding the village and its undead inhabitants. Snatcher hadn’t told his minions about it yet, but if he had to be honest, he didn’t want to face any of them again at the moment.

The situation was already more than humiliating as it was.

Snatcher was used to teleportation or, well, he thought he was. But teleporting using magic and teleporting using science were very much different. When the ghost’s body materialized in the little girls’ spaceship, he felt like his insides were being. The very instant his feet touched the floor again, he fell down forward, losing all sense of balance. He barely noticed it as the nausea that attacked his stomach was simply overwhelming, preventing him to feel anything else but that. He almost closed his eyes, only for them to reopen quickly when his body hit the pink carpet violently. His teeth chattered loudly as his chin collided with the floor, crushing his tongue at the same time. A cry left his lips as pain spread into every part of this useless body, his nausea only intensifying with that.

Why did he feel so sick?! He used to teleport all the time! This wasn’t fair, he thought furiously while he clenched his teeth from pain and irritation. Soon enough, he was surrounded by the two kids, who immediately put the Time Piece down and came to help him:

-“Snatcher!” exclaimed the hatted brat, kneeling near his head, putting her hand on his shoulder to shake him a little bit. The ghost didn’t want this, he hated to be touched, the sensation was unbearable, even more now that he was feeling so bad… At the simple thought of it, his revulsion only worsened.

-“Are you okay?” asked the bow-wearing kid, in a tone that was more than worried. The shade would have laughed in her face if he could: of course he was not okay! How could she even ask him that? Was she blind? At least, she knew better than to touch him… However, no coherent words left his mouth as his chin and tongue hurt too much for him to say anything. He mindlessly brought his hand to his face, clenching the lower part of his face while letting out a high pitched sound.

Being human again was the worst.

He felt a soothing sensation on his shoulders: the hatted kid was rubbing him gently, as a way to comfort him. But it did the complete opposite: he didn’t need comfort! He was a murderous ghost, who had stolen hundreds of souls, who had lived for centuries! And now this brat was petting his shoulders?

This could only be a joke.

Ignoring the pain in his limbs, he tried to push the other away, though pathetically. He wanted to tell her how stupid she was to try to calm him down like a baby, how disrespectful it was, how much he didn’t want to be touched at all… But he couldn’t. It hurt too much.

-“Oh my pecking God, Snatcher, drop the soon-deh-ray act!” grunted the older child, probably rolling her eyes as she spoke. The shade couldn’t quite see her face from the way he was lying on the ground. He wanted to reply that it had absolutely nothing to do with whatever she was saying, even if he had no idea what it meant. Yet, the younger brat beat him to it:

-“I don’t think he wants to be touched, Hat,” she hinted, her voice full of concerns. It seemed to be more than enough for the other to realize her mistake though. The latter quickly took her hand back:

-“Oh, right…!” she said, apologizing immediately after that, guilt audible in her intonation: “Sorry…” At her answer, the ghost let out a groan, not linking the idea of being this vulnerable, but… Well, at least, no one was touching him anymore. He tried to lift his head, only to feel more pain on his chin and in his mouth. He felt blood filling up his mouth and he coughed some on the carpet. It was probably because of how his teeth had bitten his tongue on accident. The sight made the little girls pale up instantly, their breath caught in their throat as they stared at him with clear fear and worry in their eyes. The little hatted brat straightened up and ran to the kitchen, telling her friend that she was going to fetch the first-aid kit. The latter remained at the ghost’s sides while he was trying to pull himself together. He managed to roll to his sides, still very much disorientated by his sudden fall. The younger child made a sympathetic face, smiling at him sadly as she tried to comfort him again:

-“Don’t worry,” she assured him: “Teleportation does that to everyone at first.”

The shade eyed her with suspicions and irritation. He opened his mouth and attempted to speak, though his words were barely understandable, considering how he couldn’t move his tongue very well anymore:

-“What do you mean?” he asked, wincing at the pain.

It took the kid a few seconds to understand him but, when she did, she tilted her head on the side, staring into space as she tried to explain:

-“Well… It takes a while for someone to adjust. Hat and I had to be trained for that a few years back and, yeah…” she giggled a bit, a look of nostalgia appearing on her features: “Let’s say that those were not enjoyable times!”

The recent revelations made Snatcher suddenly very intrigued regarding the past of the little girls. To be completely honest, he never really cared about the past of anyone, since any person entering his domain was fated to die. Why would he care about the story of someone he was going to eat the soul of? However, now that he had crossed the path of those two children… He couldn’t deny that he had been quite curious about some things, even though he didn’t really show it.

Well, who wouldn’t be after meeting two alien brats who had their very own spaceship without any adult supervision? With those same kids having powerful artefacts and being trusted with them? This obviously brought a lot of questions.

-“Trained?” he couldn’t help but repeat the word, too intrigued to ignore what she had just said.

-“Yeah!” she answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: “What, did you think they gave spaceship to anyone where we’re from?” she questioned, almost laughing at him for his confusion. The ghost felt his cheeks reddening from the embarrassment and he turned away, feeling his mood worsening even more. He should have known better than to ask questions… Cluttering sounds could be heard in the distance as the other kid was trying to find the first-aid kit. The younger one apologized when she realized she had offended him:

-“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to make fun of you,” she confessed, an expression of guilt taking place on her face. Snatcher grunted in response, wanting nothing more than to continue sulking as they were waiting for the hatted brat to come back. Though, eventually, his curiosity got the best of him and he turned back to her:

-“So you need to have some kind of… Licence? To drive this thing?” It made sense, with hindsight. Who in their right mind would give such a thing to young inexperienced children?

The shade tried to sit, though it was easier said than done. He managed to swallow the blood accumulating in his mouth and rubbed his chin slightly, only to cringe at how much it stung. Yep, he was not touching that again. Next to him, the bow-wearing child winced but quickly tried to hide it as she answered his question:

-“Yep!” she confirmed, doing her best to sound cheerful despite all the bad things currently happening: “Well, to be fair, Hat is the pilot expert,” she admitted, tilting her head on the side: “I can fly a ship, but I’m not as good as her at it. She’s in charge of piloting the ship most of the time while I check on the engine and the machine room. But sometimes, we switch!”

The ghost nodded mindlessly, slowly processing what had been said to him. This was definitely a lot, especially with everything that was happening at the same time. Snatcher felt almost relieved when he heard the kitchen door opening again, violently slamming into the next wall as the hatted brat joined them back, running quickly with the kit in her tiny hands. She proudly put it on the ground next to the shade, trying to catch her breath as she announced, beaming:

-“Found it!” She quickly opened it, revealing many healing items, along some the ghost couldn’t quite recognize as they looked extremely weird to him. Perhaps it was because they were aliens and, thus probably had very different healing processes. However, there was still basic stuff in there, such as bandages, disinfectant, a thermometer, scissors… At least, he wouldn’t end up with some alien thing on his injuries. Well, he would probably end up with a bandage on his chin, but for his tongue… He wasn’t sure how this would heal. It wasn’t like he could put a bandage over his tongue and call it a day…

The two little girls proceeded to look into the kit, throwing anything they didn’t need behind them, forming a pile of items next to them. Soon enough, the bow-wearing kid brandished a particular bandage with a proud “ah-ha!”. It was a pink bandage with a black kitten on it.

-“You can’t be serious,” said Snatcher with a deadpan expression. There was no way, absolutely no way the ghost was going to wear that thing, especially on his face. He might have turned into a disgusting human, yes, but he still had some dignity left!

His reaction offended the younger child more than he first thought. She opened her mouth and her eyes wide, staring at him as if he had insulted her entire family:

-“What?!” she exclaimed, pulling back from the shock: “What’s wrong with my bandages?!” She approached said bandages to her chest, as if she was trying to protect them from Snatcher’s words.

-“What’s wrong?!” he repeated, unable to believe how she couldn’t see the problem with it: “They’re kids’ bandages! I’m not going to wear those!” he answered, outraged and staring at the items with disgust. Who did she think he was? He wasn’t a child!

Silence fell in the room as Snatcher’s eyes were fixed on the children’s. It was like time had stopped, no one was moving. The only thing echoing in the room at this particular instant was the constant whirring of the ship and the trio’s breathing. And, after what felt hours to the ghost, the silence was violently interrupted as the kids burst into laughter, a loud and hysterical laugh. They rolled on their sides, clenching their stomach as they couldn’t help but laugh at him. Snatcher, on the other hand, was surprised by their reaction, though his astonishment was soon replaced by another powerful wave of embarrassment hitting him. His face reddened again: how dared they mock him?!

-“Shut up!” he yelled, though he sounded extremely ridiculous with the way he was talking, since he still couldn’t move his tongue very well yet. The girls’ laugh intensified even more, so much that the little vacuum cleaner, who had stayed away at first, finally approached them. It slightly bumped into the hatted brat with a short high pitched sound, as if it was asking for what was happening. But said girl ignored it, unable to focus on anything else as she was still laughing on the floor.

-“Stop it!” barked the former shade, his voice full of anger and shame. But, then again, his words were deformed by his difficulties to speak.

It took the brats a little while to finally calm themselves down, not helped by Snatcher’s furious demands. The bow-wearing kid had tears on her cheeks, having laughed too much.

-“Oh my God, Snatcher,” breathed the hatted kid as her laughter was dying down: “They’re just bandages! You’re not going to throw a tantrum for some pecking pink bandages, are you?”

Snatcher’s rage and embarrassment intensified at her words:

-“Throw a- Of course not!” he countered, his voice loud.

The younger kid giggled and handed him one of the bandages, which was big enough to fit the injury on his chin:

-“Well, if there’s no problem… Put it on!” she insisted.

The ghost glared at the kids: they were mocking him. He squinted, hating how weak he was at the moment, how he was unable to chase them or hurt them in this fleshy body. If only he still had some of his powers… But there was nothing inside of him, no powers left, no souls either. It was all just gone.

He groaned and sighed, taking the item from her quickly, making them giggle even more.

“Keep laughing,” he thought to himself: “I swear I’m going to get my revenge on you two as soon as I get my old body back…” It was a promise. Without losing any more time, he rapidly untied the item and stuck it on his chin, wincing at the contact. God, it just stung so much.

More snickers could be heard from the children, earning them a dirty look from the spirit.

-“There, it’s on my face! Happy?!” he fumed, attempting to cross his arms, only to stop when he noticed how many sensations it brought him. He resigned himself to keep his arms on his knees instead.

-“Oh, very,” assured the hatted brat with a smug smile on her insufferable face.

The shade gave them another murderous look, before glancing around him, feeling the nausea slowly fading. Well, at least the younger child hadn’t lied: it was disappearing just like she had told him. He put his hands on the ground, trying to push himself back up, only to stumble in the process. The movement made his head spin and he would have fallen again if it wasn’t for the two kids, who reacted quickly enough to catch him.

-“Hey, hey, stay with us,” said his older ex-contractor, any trace of smugness gone from her face: “Here, lean on me,” she told him, putting his hand on her small and yet strong shoulder. She was quickly imitated by her younger friend, who held the ghost by his hips so he wouldn’t fall backwards.

-“I don’t need you,” hissed the ghost, utterly humiliated by how weak he was. He couldn’t believe he needed the help of two children just to stand up!

-“Yeah, sure,” replied the hatted girl, rolling her eyes: “Keep telling yourself that,”

The ghost wanted to retort something, but he was cut short by the bow-wearing kid, who spoke up with concern in her intonation:

-“Maybe you should rest a little? We’ll take you to our bedroom.” she suggested, lifting her head to meet his dizzy eyes: “Hat and I can look for a solution while you take a nap,” she paused, hesitating, before whispering to her friend: “To be honest, I think he really needs to sleep a little, don’t you?”

-“I can hear you,” he reminded aloud, irritated: “And I don’t need to sleep! What I need is my body, now.”

However, he could feel the little girls taking him to the bedroom, leading the way to the purple door as the hat-wearing brat interjected:

-“Well, I think you could use a rest too. I mean, have you even seen your face?” she asked, raising an eyebrow: “You kinda look like a ghost. In a bad way, I mean.”

-“Well, isn’t that fantastic!” he answered, his voice full of sarcasm. Yet, he still continued walking, very well aware of how he would fall down again without the kids to hold him up. The door opened quickly, its sound resonating in the room as they walked forward. It led to a hallway, in which there was a long window. The spirit could see space through it, a vision that made him grow dizzier: it was a lot to take in, after all. He then muttered to himself, remembering the little girl’s words: “Plus… I don’t really want to see my face, right now.”

The kids exchanged a concerned glance, as they guided him to the bedroom, the other door opening as swiftly as the one before. Snatcher felt his limbs becoming heavier and heavier with each step. Who knew walking again after hundreds of years could be that hard? He could feel an increasing pain in his muscles, making his teeth clench. Everything hurt so much.

He tried to resist when the kids brought him to what looked like a huge pillow pool so he would lie down. Eventually, the hatted child pushed his back forward, making him fall on the soft and colourful cushions. His body hit the smooth pillows as he felt the air leaving his lungs from the shock. The latter woke up more pain in his body and he couldn’t help but cringe at all those new awful sensations coming back to haunt him.

-“Hat!” gasped the younger child, looking at her friend with a reproachful expression.

-“What?” replied the brat with a shrug: “He’s on the pillows now, isn’t that what you wanted?”

The shade slowly turned his head towards her, gritting his teeth:

-“You…” he hissed darkly, looking daggers at her. But it didn’t scare his ex-contractor in the least. Instead, she just smiled smugly at him again and made a few steps back:

-“Take a little nap, now, we’ll be back later!” she sang to him, gesturing to her younger friend to follow her. The latter glanced at them with hesitation, wondering if she should stay with the spirit or not. Eventually, she approached the other brat, maybe guessing the ghost would be better alone.

She wasn’t wrong, in a way. But the ghost couldn’t stay here and do nothing! What if Vanessa decided to attack the village while he was gone? Sure, he had recruited Moonjumper for help, but that didn’t mean he trusted him completely. No, it was more like a last resort, in the worst-case scenario…

-“Wait!” Snatcher tried to stand up again, only to fall down into the pillows again. He tried to turn back again, only to see the kids walking out of the room.

-“See you later, BFF!” exclaimed the hatted girl with a smug face. The other child gave him a small smile and waved at him.

-“Sleep well,” she wished him: “We’ll be back soon, promise. Rest a bit in the meantime!” And then, they were out of the room, the door closing behind them.

Snatcher stared into space as he was trying to process everything that had just happened. It took him a few moments and he used that time to recover his breath a little bit. He glanced around him and eyed the pillows with distaste. There was no way he was going to sleep when his ex could be freezing back his part of the forest! Ah, as if he couldn’t resist the urge to sleep! Snatcher was above all that, he was dead! He didn’t need sleep! His eyes closing more and more as his body slowly sank in the pillows meant absolutely nothing! It was just his body playing tricks on him, nothing more!

And then, the former soul-stealing ghost fell asleep. -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

Hum, I sure wonder what's going to happen in the next chapter :) Probably something full of fluff !!!! ...... Or not, who knows :)c

=> Chapter 08

[girlofmanyfandoms]

Advocates

A/n: So, I feel bad for not posting lately, here’s my AU where I take a slightly different take on the Keeper of the Lost Cities series. A few changes that I’m trying to make: more friendship-based, no love triangle, probably more gay, more racially diverse cast (without any harmful stereotypes). I’ll try to stay true to each character’s personality!

I’ll also take this time to say there’s stuff I haven’t released yet, so tell me if you want me to release those!

Disclaimer: This is in no way hating on Shannon’s series, I just wanna see where the story would go if we took a slightly different approach!

Warnings: I didn’t edit this at all-

Word count: 2868

Tag list:  @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @bookwyrminspiration @holesinmyfalseconfidence @percabetn @an-absolute-travesty @linhammon-roll-bromance101 @linhamon-roll @holesinmyfalseconfidence @linhamon2 @a-lonely-tatertot @loverofallthingssmart

Let me know if you want to be added or if I forgot to tag you!

“Uh, no boys, she’s sitting with me.”

Jensi raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with her sitting here, Marella?”

“Nothing! I just need to pull her to the side for some girl talk.” Marella pulled Sophie’s sleeve, navigating across the cafeteria to an empty booth in the corner. Sitting down and adjusting herself, she extended a hand. “Marella Redek. No nicknames. I know the ins and outs of everything around here.”

“Sophie Foster,” Sophie introduced, shaking her hand, though her response came out as a murmur. She brushed her hair out of her face, trying to shrink as small as possible. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

Marella nodded. “You must’ve caused the Council a lot of trouble if you’ve gotten your way into Level Two right after being with humans. What was it like, by the way?”

“Pretty normal, I guess. Well, not for me, I was a highschool senior at 12, and my parents wanted me to attend community college instead of an Ivy League. Even the newspapers were talking about it, and that ticked my parents off big time.”

“What?”

“I know, crazy, right?” Sophie started digging into her lunch. “Why would the news choose a story about a child over actual breaking news?”

“No, I meant those words you used. A high school, college, a new paper? What do they mean?”

“Oh, that’s right! Those are more human terms, sorry,” Sophie apologized. “There are levels of human school: Preschool, which is usually ages 1 to 4, elementary school is from ages 5 to 10, middle school is ages 11 to 13, high school is ages 14 to 17, and college is at least four years, and gives you the certification you need to get a good paying job. Newspapers are just mini books made completely of paper that tell you what’s going on in the world.”

“Oh,” Marella said, looking off into the distance. “I guess I never really thought that human school would be so different from Foxfire. We just have these levels, and then the elite levels. What was your human family like?”

Sophie tugged out an eyelash, which didn’t go unnoticed on Marella’s end. “U-um-“

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be pushing you so much on your first day. I should be helping you adjust.” She toyed with her food. “So, how’s our world been for you so far?”

“A little overwhelming,” Sophie admitted. “I don’t feel half as glamorous as anything around me. We don’t exactly have crystal houses and fancy ball gowns in San Diego.”

“You don’t?” Marella shook her head vigorously. “Right. Sorry. Let’s get back on track. Anything you think you’ll need to know that I can help you with?”

Sophie clutched her knees, now rolled up into a ball. This Marella girl was a bit intense at first, but maybe she wasn’t so bad. After all, she had saved her from sitting with some yes-boys. The declared leader of them seemed friendly, but a little too hyper. No, she decided, Marella wasn’t half bad. “I don’t know. Anything really, you know best.”

“Alright, then. This place is sort of a maze, try to find someone with a similar schedule to you so you can walk together until you know your way around. You know Stina Heks?”

Sophie shivered and nodded, thinking back to seeing her raging through the halls screaming about someone making her bald. She could’ve sworn she heard her say “Disney,” too.

“Stay away from her. Stereotypical bully, not afraid of fighting dirty. The Vackers, Keefe Sencen, and their little bubble are all the buzz. They’re pretty nice, and Sencen’s a bit of a flirt, but if you don’t like attention, maybe steer clear from them.”

Sophie let out a bitter laugh. “Easier said than done. The Vackers are the ones who found me. Fitz brought me here, Alden sent him out to find me, and Della helped me get ready for Foxfire.” Sophie paused to pull out another eyelash. “I don’t think Biana likes me much.

Marella’s eyes widened in shock as she leaned back and blew out a breath.

“Is that bad?” Sophie was panicking a bit now. What had she screwed up now?

“Well, it’s not good for your social status, that’s for sure.” Marella started slicing her food, which resembled Jello. “If you’re on her bad side, you’ll want to stay away from Maruca, too. They’re best friends.”

“Great,” Sophie sighed. One day in and she already had a long list of people to avoid. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Oh, yeah, but I’ll stick to school stuff. Your most difficult subjects are gonna be Elementalism and Alchemy.”

“I can help with that,” a boy called, sliding next to Sophie in the booth and placing his tray down. “Dex Dizznee, by the way.”

“Sophie Foster.” She grinned a bit. Edaline had gone without her to the apothecary and mentioned the “Disneys.” This must’ve been who Stina was shouting at. “I saw what you did to Stina earlier. Wicked move.”

“Finally, someone understands the genius! She deserved it, too, after what a pain she was last year. That’s where the alchemy comes in handy.”

Marella rolled her eyes, and Dex leaned back casually. “Don’t act like you don’t think she deserved it Marella. You know she did.”

“Ok, it was kind of satisfying seeing her run around like that-“

“Yes!”

“-but don’t take it as a sign that I’ll join in. I have a reputation to protect.”

Dex snorted. “Yeah, as the gossip girl.”

“I don’t gossip, I have connections,” she corrected.

“Whatever you say madam,” Dex relented jokingly. “What about you, Soph? Got anything you could build a reputation for?”

“Not really,” she expressed. “I don’t want the spotlight. I just want to make it by here.”

Marella took a bite of her lunch and scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

“Tell you what, my next class is Multispecesial Studies, I can walk you to Alchemy,” Dex offered.

“Really? That would be great, thank you!”

“No problem. It’s hard making it by for people like us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marella chugged down her lushberry juice.

“We’re different, special.”

“So, outcasts?” Sophie rested her head in her hand and stirred her drink nonchalantly, taking in the view of the cafeteria. It was remarkably pristine and clean, its white walls with blue accents not showing a hint of grime. With the barstools at tables all around the center and the booths to the side, it looked like every diner’s dream.

“No, not outcasts. Think more sideline supporters.”

“So, advocates,” Sophie helped. “I don’t really see that, but maybe one day. Right now I just want to pass.”

“Well you can’t do that on an empty stomach,” Marella chided playfully. “Eat up. Lady Galvin is a stickler for accuracy.”

————

Fantastic. Sophie had only been there one day and she had already ruined her Alchemy teacher’s favorite cloak. Marella was right, Alchemy was tough. She’d have to take Dex up on his offer. She wandered through the halls, trying to find the way to her next class, P.E. She strolled like this for a few more minutes before a snobby voice called to her from down the hall.

“Lost, new kid?”

Sophie winced. Great. The number one person on her People To Avoid list had already found a way into her world. She attempted to speed walk, but the clacking of leveled boots followed quickly, and she was spun around with a harsh push.

Stina laughed, and for a 12 year old elven child, it sounded quite maniacal. “Why so frightened? I don’t bite. Much.”

Somehow Sophie sincerely doubted that. There had to be some fangs behind that evil smirk. But maybe she could play it cool with this demon in disguise.

“I’m not frightened, just lost. Do you think you could point me to P.E.? I don’t want to be late on my first day.” Sophie held her breath, hoping she came off as casual.

“My pleasure,” Stina grinned a sickeningly sweet smile. “In fact, I’ll walk you there. Wouldn’t want our newest prodigy to miss class because of some weak instructions, now would we?”

“No, of course not.”

Stina linked their arms, acting as if they were old pals going on a walk in the park to catch up. It was silent except for the shuffling of their shoes, so Sophie made sure she was hyper aware of her surroundings, trying to memorize the numbers on each locker and how they connected to the twisting, winding paths of the school.

At this point, she was sure Stina planned to do something crazy to her, like stuff her in a locker or hide her body, so she had to think fast. Luckily, this was her specialty.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” Sophie began, stopping abruptly. Stina stumbled a bit, but regained her composure in seconds. “I forgot something at my locker! Oh, I’m so sorry, but Edaline told me I’d need what was in my locker. You go ahead, I shouldn’t keep you from your class! Don’t worry, I’ll find my way to Phys Ed.”

Sophie speed walked away, leaving Stina in the dust. Once she rounded the corner, she took off, speeding through corridors and halls until she ran out of breath. Giving up, she rested her head against the wall, trying to clear her head when she was forced to her feet and slammed into a locker. There was a click, and through the slits, Sophie could see Stina’s eyes crinkled in smugness and satisfaction. Yet through all of this, the only thing Sophie was thinking of was, That was pretty lame on a scale of bullying-ness.

“Good luck getting out of there, Foster,” she remarked. “Now, you get comfortable, I have some business to attend to.”

“Gonna go sharpen your claws?” Sophie snapped.

“No, newbie, I’m going to put the princess of Everglen in her place. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated!”

And with that, Stina clacked away, her footsteps receding and the silence finding its way to creep back in.

________

Sophie had no way of telling time. This she had learned when she realized she had in fact left something in her locker: her Imparter and the Ruewen crest. She let out an audible groan of frustration, and tried to occupy herself with her temporary home. There were books about unicorn breeding on the shelf above her, to which Sophie wrinkled her nose. Next, there was a box of animal pins, glittering and shiny, and she was very tempted to stuff a few in her pocket, but she restrained herself. She took to examining the pictures on the door with what little light she had and realized, to her disdain, that this was Stina’s locker.

Sophie shivered in disgust and tried patting herself out and getting the Stina vibes off of her.

“Well, if I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well take advantage of it,” she decided. Sophie put all of her energy into memorizing the photo album beside her, and wound up with some lovely photos of baby Stina, along with some other cherished memories. She was scanning through Stina’s diary and chuckling to herself at her inevitable revenge when yelling came from around the corner. Sophie dropped the journal and shuffled forward a bit, peering through the slits. This could be her saving.

“MESS WITH BIANA ONE MORE TIME-” Maruca had her pinned to the wall and looked ready to murder her, but Stina remained unfazed.

“Relax, duchess, you might be the heir soon,” Stina responded coolly.

That was the breaking point. Maruca opened her locker, which was, unfortunately, next to the one Sophie was trapped in, and slammed it shut.

“Maruca!” Sophie yelled, but Stina rattled in her locker, and shouted curses over her, both to insult Maruca and to put an end to Sophie’s escape plan.

Maruca was quick to exit, and soon enough it was just Stina and Sophie, trapped in their lockers, trying to determine the other person’s next move.

“Do you happen to know how to break down locker doors?” Stina commented dryly.

“Would I still be here if I did?”

“Fair.”

“You got a hairpin?” Sophie asked. “Or some thin piece of metal you can slide in between the crack of our lockers? I might be able to break out of mine by picking the lock.”

“And what about me? Gonna leave me here to rot while you run free?” She harrumphed. “I don’t think so. If I’m suffering you suffer with me.”

“I’ll get you out too, just answer the question and slide the metal through the crack.”

Stina huffed, but Sophie heard the sound of metal on metal scratch as something hit her foot. “My family crest. Do not scratch it.”

“You got it.” Sophie used her fingernails to get a little bit of extra room before sliding the crest through the door. She maneuvered it a bit, and the door let out a click as it swung open. Sophie fell forward face first, but sat up and whooped in victory.

Stina cleared her throat. “I’m still here.”

“Oh, I know,” Sophie poked smugly. “But if I’m going to break you outta there, you’re going to owe me a favor.”

“I do NOT-“

“Fine, then stay there. And spend all day, heck, maybe even until tomorrow, stuck in that cramped locker with no food or water whatsoever.” Sophie began to stroll away slowly, biding for time just in case Stina changed her mind about the offer.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Just get me out.”

Sophie cheered to herself silently and crouched down in front of the locker and got to work. Stina was peering through the slits in the locker, and for a moment they felt each other’s breath on their faces and they met eyes before glaring at each other and backing up a bit. The door swung open, and Stina came crashing down onto Sophie.

Stina pushed herself off of her quickly, seeming very flustered. She reached out a hand to Sophie, which she took. Stina shook Sophie’s hand off of hers.

“I need my family crest,” she said, looking off to the side uncomfortably.

“Oh,” Sophie frowned, unsure why she felt a little disappointed. Probably because my back hurts and I was just refused the little she could have given as thanks, she thought. “Right. Take it.”

Stina’s fingers brushed against Sophie’s as she took it back and pinned it onto her cloak once more. “Well.” Stina lifted her nose upon in the air, regaining her haughty facade. “Until we meet again, Foster.”

“Yeah, Sophie nodded, getting back to her feet. Once Stina was out of earshot, she muttered, “Hopefully that’s never.”

Sophie dusted herself off, finally registering her circumstances. She was late for class, and she looked disheveled. Stina had just walked off, leaving her lost, confused, and just waiting for a punishment of her lifetime. Sighing, she walked along the edges of a pyramid.

“Ms. Foster,” a cold voice crowed from behind her.

Sophie recognized that voice. Dame Alina. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Is there a particular reason that you’re not in class right now?”

“Uh-“

“Incoming!” a boy screamed from the top of his lungs, a bunch of verminions on his tail. Alina shrieked and ran into a neighboring hall for shelter. Sophie took this as an opportunity to find her way out of this maze and escape Alina’s grasp. She followed the boy until they reached the Healing Center, where he hid until the verminions passed by. Sophie stopped. She could go in and ask whatever medic was present for directions, but the thought of going anywhere near a doctor made her sick to the stomach.

“Can I help you, new girl?”

Sophie jumped. The boy she had been following was right in front of her, and she instinctively slunk back.

“Chill, I won’t hurt you. The name’s Keefe, but you can call me-“

“Sorry Keefe, but I’m really late for class, do you know where P.E. Is?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and massaged his neck, looking a bit hurt. “Uh, yeah, take a left after the next three halls.”

“Thank you!” Sophie bolted to class and arrived there out of breath.

“Sophie! Just in time for us to start splotching,” Dex waved her over. “It’s easy, you just use your telekinesis to move this marble into the other person. If you succeed, it bursts and you get a paint splotch on you.”

“Great,” she muttered. “You won’t believe what I’ve just gone through.”

“Tell me at the end of class. We’re gonna need all of our focus for this.”

“Alright,” she sighed. She couldn’t be upset, seeing Dex that excited lifted her mood just a bit. And that was just the boost she needed.

________

This was it. It was down to her and Fitz for the Splotching Champion title. Sophie gathered her concentration. She could not mess this up.

The splotcher was thrown in between them, and Sophie gave it her all. The marble exploded with a loud boom, and they were both thrown into opposite sides of the room. Sophie saw nothing but the green paint, and then darkness.