#and Des has more time to get used to being away from the farm too

[theconfusedartist]

Hm

Somehow, despite my meticulous research and information retaining skills, I've been writing Desmond’s DOB as 1984 instead of 1987

I've been using this date and Alex's DoB to figure out when things happen in the timeline. I already got screwed over once when I found out Alex was born in 1979 and Dana was 9 years younger, and had to change a bunch of things around to make them fit the original canon, but this?? this might be (strained squeaky voice) a small problem

[f0xgl0v3]

Various Pjo Character hc: games and Pets apparently

In honor of my snake shedding and scaring my socks off while he does so because for a solid moment I got to stare into the black void of my room and consider that a entity would chose to announce its presence by crinkling a like chip back before I realized and screamed, “it’s you” at him and grinding all day in royal high because the Dev team is setting it on fire but I still want to be a pretty princess in the game.

It is only day two of midwinter break please my marbles have already scattered,

Octavian; if he had access to the game. Would’ve played royal high. He strikes me as a dress up type of guy. Does profit trading but refuses to diamond farm. Also doesn’t like switching over to different rh like games. Again, like exclusively uses it for the dress up aspect, thinks everything looks really pretty. He has all of the stuffed animal items/stuffed animal like ones. Gets oddly heated about the game too. Like, would argue with someone about a value of an item and then leave to server hop. Yeah he’s that one I’m sorry guys. Also his dorm is so bare bones, refuses to spend a lot of diamonds on it until he can do it all at once. But Octavian likes a lot of games where he has total control of his character and everything about it. Really liked Animal Crossing, also feels like he uses the sims purely for character customization; has a bunch of mods and then just never uses them. Has all of his friends/probably the cohort as sims too. Doesn’t like rpg-rpg games that have like fighting mechanics, just feels like the sort of guy to not like video game fighting.

Octavian also had a rabbit. His family had a lot of animals (because he had a lot of family-) and he got to be the rabbit kid. His was the like toasty colored ones with the big lop ears. Sadly it was given away when he joined the legion. But he feels like a rabbit guy, it comforted him a lot.

Jason: you know the wolves life games? For a few certain amount of you I have just unlocked horrifying memories that your brain has tried to hide of emo wolves and if not then you don’t want to know. But I feel like he’d play them, they’d be the first ones once he gets on, along with like obbies. I just feel like he’s the type of guy to like a good obby. But also warrior cats ultimate edition. The first thing my man does when he enters the mortal world is get sucked into warrior cats because I feel like he’s that type of person. Also clangen. He feels like a clangen sort of guy, along with that Mario games. I also feel like he’s in a similar Octavian boat where he doesn’t like games with big fighting mechanics, just doesn’t find it that interesting or something he’s looking for in a game. He is however an open world type of guy, likes exploring.

I want to say he’s a dog guy and would’ve had a dog. But at the same time Jason feels like he’s deeply benefit from getting a cat. Cat’s are just soothing on the soul, also he just feels like the type of person to have a cat on his lap or laying on his chest. Silly little white cat for Jason Grace, or the scraggliest stray cat that was bestowed upon him by the distribution system.

Hazel: any of the like fighting games? Don’t particularly think she likes Roblox much, but if she is playing it’s either one of the games where everyone hates each other and you get to beat each other up or bee swarm simulator. Hazel either is having a de-stress day and it is through being stressed and upset at strangers in the beat ‘em up games, or by tending to her bees and being upset at other people and npcs in bee swarm simulator. Really likes other competitive games too? I don’t know she just strikes me as that type of gal to get waaay too invested in something like a Mario party. Also turn based rpg games, something’s ticks me as someone who’d like that.

Obviously she has Arion but Hazel also feels like she’d vibe with a dog, maybe a cat but I just see more dog with her. A silly little lab for the silly little lady.

Frank: does not play. I genuinely can’t think of Roblox games that are tame enough for him. Actually scratch that tycoon games. The super chill ones where no one interacts with each other and you just exist and build out your little space. He likes those. Enjoys seeing the progress he’s making in something. He’s also an animal crossing player, along with the casual tycoon games. However I’d also say he plays like CoD, just casually and he’s extremely average at it but I feel like he just, does that.

Frank feels like he’d have a really like barely a pet-pet. Like either a fish dude or he has isopods. Just strikes me as someone who can’t deal with a very like aaaaa pet. Or a ragdoll cat. Those are the options I present to you dear reader. Or an axolotl, he’d be an axolotl man.

Larry: Larry plays natural disaster survival. Larry is a menace to society. Also bloxburg, makes pretty okay builds but on a slightly different note feels like a Sims guy to me. I dunno, him and Annabeth get to be in the same boat. Also those really bad mobile games.

Larry gets a pet turtle or a bird. He also just feels like a bird guy, already joked about being a pirate I think he likes giving Camp’s eagles look overs and is happy when it’s his turn to look after them. Also just feels like a man who’d have like 50 pigeons.

Dakota!!!: I almost forgot my man. But Dakota. Dakota plays horror games, he can’t handle them but he still plays it. He is so loud when he plays too. Doors, fnaf, poppy playtime, the list goes on. I think he also sits there and is like, “oh I’m super good at them and like super brave” and it jumps cuts to him screaming because a monster is right behind him. He’s still super brave and great in battle, but he gets so jumpy once you put him in a dark area and instill paranoia. Also can’t play mafia because he screams a little too much.

Dakota is a hamster type of dude. He had a couple growing up and probably would’ve had another one if uh. Events didn’t happen (it’s literally so unfair what happened to him like aaa-). I feel like he had the really small ones.

Okay uh, that’s about it for the random headcanons I’ve spewed. These are 100% my opinions and probably don’t weigh on anything. Thank the Gods I managed to keep Bryce out of it (but if you ask me he is the opposite of Frank, plays CoD and is so annoying about it and very invested-). Anyway I’ll try and actually do something! Possibly New Rome things? Or more Camp Jupiter map, I want to finally put that one to rest. Or Dakota hc finally. We’ll see what happens.

[teecupangel]

This is gonna be long, honey soooo… buckle up.

We have Desmond linked to the God of Wine, Dionysus / Bacchus with this fic (show some love and kudos this please, I adore this concept).

However, what if Desmond by chance ( Isu bullshit)  that he absorbed when he touched the Eye as he time travels back In the Renaissance before the Auditore family execution event, it manifested in him having demi-god traits but with two Gods I have in mind.

1. Aphrodite or Venus, goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation. Accidentally becoming a matchmaker for people like Des incidentally shoved a man by mistake who the man then bumped into a woman, BOOM! the two madly fell in love at first sight and married with children or his charm increases, making people fall in love with Desmond. This adds angst if Desmond discovered this power,  He has low self-esteem and is severely traumatized (fuck you William for that). He would believe they really don’t love him especially the assassins and it’s just a illusion they do. Actually they do, the power only boosted his charisma but Desmond doesn’t know this shhhhh.

2. Eros or Cupid, god of carnal love. 16 year old Desmond with his newfound freedom after running away from the Farm. It’s no surprise he could be a sexually liberated man especially he’s a hot bartender to hook up in the back alley of Bad Weather. He might dabbled in BDSM, he’s a switch, but preferably doms. He also got a vasectomy to avoid impregnating a woman no Elijah in thishe believes that he shouldn’t have children, after having narcissistic father and possibly an emotionally neglectful mother can do that. An ability to sense lust or desires of a person in eagle vision could be possible.

With that being explained, regardless of which God, these abilities have pros & cons. Desmond when he is in the Renaissance, he’ll be low-key but he can’t stand out and without the currency to have a peaceful life, we needs a job. By some gift of the universe or it hates him. He ended up as a bodyguard of Rosa in Fiore by saving some courtesans from aggressive drunken men while in his clothes devolved in rags by the heat of the Eye when arrived, making him look like a beggar, good thing it was night time so his face wasn’t seen by the girls.

Its been weeks doing this job, Desmond have saved plenty coins but not enough to buy land far away and live his life maybe as a farmer or open a tavern. Lately, he been feeling unwell, no matter he drank to quench his thirst, his throat is dry as if he been in dessert with no water survive and started having hot flashes. It could just because of the clothes he donned, not a single silver lining of his skin is shown except the upper part of his face and hair but he was assumed it was if it were the fact he started having wet dreams, from memory of his many hook ups in New York or some constructed with people with no faces. He gets aroused, yes, but he has self-restraint but he also frustrated and losing his rationale.

“Dezmund~” Bianca, a courtesan who been attempting to lure him to bed. The other courtesans entertaining the patrons who had too much wine, too busy to notice the two, giving them a sense of privacy. “Bianca” he nodded with one brow raised at her. Bianca practically started to entice him with her usual flirting to him. You know what, fuck it, he thought, he proceeded to ———————

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Yeeeaaaahhhh…i won’t be too detailed so it won’t be overbearing. So giving you the mental picture is that Desmond used his knowledge of BDSM, blindfoled and tied Bianca and used her mouth to empty his frustration while he is still completely clothed. He gave her sweet aftercare and realizing his symptoms are gone and his mind is clear and —- oh fuccccckkkkkk he unintentionally created a chain reaction after this event involving himself more to the Brotherhood, the Auditore family and Leonardo

Anyway, thanks for reading this till the end, mwah <3

======================================

Additions by teecup:

… that sounds like Desmond has the curse of an Incubus, needing to ‘unload’ his pent up energy to another person.

And you know who would be fascinated by it?

Leonardo Da Vinci.

Perhaps it was during one of the times that Leonardo went to a brothel to find ‘inspiration’. Maybe it was because he had been nursing a crush on Desmond who was unattainable to his eyes, a simple bodyguard meant to keep everyone safe.

He would see the complicated expression on his face. The frustration in his eyes.

And the flushed cheeks.

Oh, Leonardo would be smitten but he’d try to act like a friend, as any attraction he might have pales in comparison to his worries concerning Desmond’s wellbeing.

Desmond sees him and finds himself being unable to lie to Leonardo.

He needed to tell someone about his problems and he trusted Leonardo.

So Leonardo listens and…

Things start to snowball from there.

At first, it was simply Leonardo trying to help Desmond while studying his ‘affliction’.

Then it became more for the thrill and pleasure they would receive from one another.

Desmond becomes Leonardo’s muse and sometimes his model…

Maria Auditore saw Leonardo’s potential and started commissioning him…

Federico comes in to get one of the finished commissions and… finds Leonardo and Desmond in a very compromising situation.

Instead of leaving… Federico decided to join in.

And Desmond knew that Federico was hiding something but it would be a while before he realized that during this time, two years before the fated day that the Auditores would be executed, Federico was already on his way to becoming a member of the Brotherhood…

…

Also… maybe Leonardo and Desmond have an open relationship which will give us more option for Desmond to ‘partner’ up with (like maybe… La Volpe??? XD)

[sugarwyns]

Just a fun idea

   If Nova was a romanceable npc in mtas then what dialogues would she have ( like one for each relationship level (Acquaintance, Buddy, Good Friend, romance), you can skip levels or add more lines if you want )

Introduction:

Hiya! I haven't seen you around yet, so I'm assuming you're new - I'm Nova, one of your fellow builders! Come find me if you need a buddy to go ruin diving with.

Birthday:

My birthday's on Summer 15. When I lived in Seesai, I spent every single birthday at the beach. I can't really do that anymore here, so my new thing is just sitting by the oasis.

Acquaintance:

If you ever need to get ahold of me, ask Kor or Daphne where I am, they'll probably know! Oh, wait, but...what if you don't know where they are...hmm. I'll get back to you on that!

Kor told me you're from Highwind! That's cool, I've always wanted to visit. You think I'd be...blown away?...Sorry, that was bad. Ignore that!

Uh oh! I forgot my pass to the salvage yard expires today...you think Rocky will let me extend it for, like, a discount...?

Buddy:

Moving to Sandrock gave me a bit of culture shock. I do miss Seesai a lot, but I really think I'm better off here than I was there.

There you are! Daphne stopped by earlier to give me a few melons from the Moisture Farm...care to share some with me?

I love collecting minerals and whatnot from the desert, but I am so intimidated by the Boxing Jacks there. Every time I see them coming from the corner of my eye, I can't help but yell!

Good Friend:

My brother lives in Walnut Groove. He's a real successful Builder there. To be honest, I don't care for building that much, but...it's a stable job, at least. Don't know if I'll live up to the expectations he's set, though.

I used to be the apprentice of a well-known Builder in Seesai. She was really kind to me, even when I made mistakes all day. I was so sad when my apprenticeship ended! In fact, she made me my bandana and pickhammer as a parting gift. I try to write to her every few weeks.

I have a really small collection of Old World stories and movies. It gets boring watching and reading the same things over and over again, though, so I hope I'll find more stuff in Sandrock to mix up the collection!

Romance

Confession Accepted:

Oh? I can't believe it, you beat me to it! Of course I accept.

Confession Rejected:

I'm...really flattered, I promise, but...I'm so sorry, I just don't think we're at that level with each other...

General Lines:

I made you this bracelet the other day. You don't have to wear it, if it's not your style! Buuut...I do have a matching one, sooo...

I've wanted to visit Seesai for a while, but I was always too nervous to go through with it. I think if you're by my side, though, I'll be able to manage.

Hey! What are you doing today? You wanna go eat at the saloon? I'll pay, don't worry!

Honey?...mmm, no. Sweetie? Hmm...Oh! Sorry! Just trying out nicknames for you...baby?

When I first got here, I felt like I had something to prove. I don't even know who I was trying to prove something to! But now that you're here, I feel like the last of that pressure came off of my shoulders.

Festivals

Day of the Bright Sun:

• I put in a few accessories I made over the last couple of weeks. I hope whichever person ends up with them likes them!

Showdown at High Noon:

Wow, the atmosphere is amazing! Everyone is so amped up for this. I didn't participate in anything like this back in Seesai, so I can't wait to see who comes out on top!

Day of Memories:

This festival has different ways of being celebrated in other cities, but they all have one thing in common - they're all so beautiful.

Tour de Rock:

I'm so bad at sandrunning. Maybe I'll just...watch and cheer everyone on!

Running of the Yakmel:

Can I tell you a little secret? I'm kind of scared of Yakmel! They're cute, but they're huge! I try to avoid the ones around the outskirts of town when I can.

Winter Solstice:

I've been looking forward to eating some skewers all day! What better way to kick off the start of a new year?

[stylesloveclub]

i feel that many of my fav fictionalrrys go unwritten/have less content far too often :((((( last night we took a dip into the land of sugar daddy h, and today i'd like to take u on a journey to cowboyrry :)

cowboyrry who always wears a stupid cowboy hat :( that makes him look 10x more stupidly attractive (me thinks he has a large collection, some embroidered with flowers and leaves, while others are solid colors with a shiny pendant to act as an accent. me also thinks he has his initials embroidered on some)

cowboyrry who does the majority of his farm work without a shirt on, his bf jeans so low on his plushy hips that u can see his pretty fern tattoos :( he gets all glowy under the sun bc of how much he's sweating from the work and heat combined :(

cowboyrry who lifts u into he bed of his truck and hands u a glass of homemade lemonade to sip on while he works :( he keeps u trapped with his hands on either side of ur thighs while he waits to see if u like ur drink :( and when he hears ur soft hum of approval as soon as the sweet, tangy liquid touched ur tongue, he presses one kiss to each of ur cheeks and then the corner of ur mouth :( he pulls his shirt over his head and leaves u with a wink, and a stupid flutter in ur tummy :(

cowboyrry who makes u wear his cowboy hat every time u r*de him :( as soon as u mount his lap, his hat is on ur head and he's so smug bc his pretty girl is in his lap, stuffed full, wearing his cowboy hat :)

cowboyrry who grunts deep from his chest whenever he lifts bales of hay :( the sound is so rough and raspy and holds lots of similarity with he groans he lets out when... well yeah. and the minute u hear it ur head is in the gutter :(

cowboyrry who coos and pets ur hair away from ur face when ur on ur knees for him :( he makes u take frequent breaks bc as much as he loves watching and feeling u choke on him, he knows u forget to breathe sometimes (every time) :( he also leans down and nips at ur lips every so often bc h is a firm believer that kisses r the best reassurance :(

cowboyrry who softly mocks u when u go dumb on his c*ck :( his thumb rubbing tight circles on the head of ur cl*t while u spasm around him :( he uses his free hand to smooth away ur baby hairs and wipe up ur pretty tears, all the while he's "look at u, my lil cowgirl, all bent outta shape cos o' her man's c*ck, hmm? atta girl" all in ur face, his lips brushing urs, cocky smirk twisting his oh-so-kissable mouth upward when he sees u start blushing even more :(((((

do what u must bestie 🫡

-t*mmy r*ding anon 😵‍💫

ONLYYYYYYY U COULD MAKE ME BE INTO COWBOYRRY . BC cowboyrry would have his initials embroidered on his hats that just fits him and he's also shirtless more often than he needs to be and when he IS in his shirt it's drenched and clinging to his abs . he's hella ripped from his cowboy work and has the meatiest yummiest biceps but also the softest hips and pretty pink lips :( he lifts u up and carries u around and puts u wherever he wants and he always wants u around :( and ofc u get hot n bothered bc he's just ... such a man doing heavy work and he's so strong and sweating and grunting all hotly and it just makes u a little w et ........... and oka y.... OKAY MAYBE I GET THE COWBOYRRY HYPE ....... bc like he'd totally get u to ride him in the back of his truck and have u put on his cowboy hat andhe'd be looking up at u w a smirk as u bounce ont op of him .... and yeah he is a soft mocker ..... u know i love soft mocking :( making fun of u when u get tired of riding him and being like "need me to do all the work ? not cut out for the cowgirl life hm ?" n it makes u blush bc ur trying ur best and he loves getting head bc cowboyrry is epitome of Common Man and he will actually legitimately out loud say Save a horse ride a cowboy to get u into bed w him

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Various PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Kaden (@chasseurdeloup) SUMMARY: It's definitely not a horse-themed meet cute. CONTENT WARNINGS: none.

—

When Kaden got a call from Marge at the front desk to come down to the shelter quickly, he assumed there was another monster that had been brought in that was wreaking havoc in the place. He sure as hell didn’t expect it to be because someone left a horse there. “You told them we don’t have a place to keep them, right?” he’d asked over the phone. She assured him that she had and that they had left before they could do anything and that he needed to get there as soon as possible. Putain de merde. 

Now he was sitting outside, holding the lead to a horse who was grazing on the grass in front of the animal shelter. She seemed sweet – skinny, but that wasn’t too surprising considering the assholes and ditched and run a whole fucking horse. “You got any idea where you can go?” he asked the equine. Her only answer was to continue munching on grass. “That’s what I thought.”

Kaden sighed. He was out of ideas. 

Wait. That guy. Dairy farm guy. “This might be your lucky day,” he said to the horse who was still simply grazing without a care in the world. Kaden sent a message and now all he had to do was wait for him to head over here with that trailer. 

—

Surprised to have heard from the Animal Control guy this soon, Monty was passing off his chores and hitching the trailer to his truck in minutes. All he was told was that there was a horse—nothing on the animal’s status, not that he figured the guy had much experience with horses. Not a common sight in animal shelters, after all. 

Twenty minutes later and he was pulling up at the provided address, climbing down from the truck and grabbing the small sack of horse feed—not part of his equines’ typical diet, but he had a feeling the horse could probably use the extra calories. And, when he laid eyes on the animal and the man holding her lead, his heart broke. 

Walking over to them at a steady pace, Monty flashed the man a thankful smile. “Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, giving her a thorough inspection. She didn’t seem to mind the attention, her coat twitching beneath his hands as he ran them over her side and back. Digging out a handful of the feed, Monty held out a palm for her to eat from. From there he finally returned his attention to the man, who’s name he hadn’t even learned yet. “Lo siento, amigo—ah, I’m Monty. Monty Rivera.” Reaching out with his free hand to shake, he gave the man a nod. His gaze quickly jumped back to the horse that was nudging his shoulder for more feed. “Thank you for letting me know about her—poor thing. I know, I know.” He took out more feed and held it up, smiling at the way she jammed her nose into his palm. “Not as bad as she could be, all things considered. Needs a bath, and needs her hooves trimmed… and some good, healthy meals, obviously.” She did have a beautiful amber champagne coat, despite it being a little raggedy. 

He glanced back to the man, now looking apologetic. “I… hate to ask, but we’re a little short staffed on the farm today, and multiple animals are giving birth. I might not have extra hands when I get there, and I’m not sure how well she’ll take a new place with lots of other animals around. Could use the help getting her to the paddock… if you don’t mind.” 

—

There were definitely worse ways to spend time on the clock than sitting around with this horse waiting for the trailer to show up. Kaden was just glad he wasn’t going to have to figure out what to do with her overnight. Something about watching her just nibble and graze, her ears occasionally twitching back and forth, her tail swishing away any flies – it was mesmerizing, peaceful in a way. So much so that he nearly jumped when he heard a voice. 

Shit. Thankfully, it looked like this was the farmer alright. Kaden pushed himself off the rock he was sitting on, wiping the dirt off his hands on his jeans. Not that he had any lingering doubt, but there was a sense of relief seeing how easy he took to the horse and how calm she was around him. Sure, he knew better than to get too invested in the animals he encountered on the job but that never stopped it from happening, even if he had only known this horse for about a half an hour. “Kaden Langley,” he offered, shaking Monty’s hand. Afterward, he reached out to give the horse a pet, too. “Yeah considering I think she was being kept somewhere just outside of downtown, I expected worse.” A pit dropped in his stomach when he realized he could see a little of her ribs on her side as he stroked her dusty coat. “Not sure what the hell they were thinking or how they never got caught.” Then again, most of the department’s time was spent wrangling monsters confused for animals so he guessed it made sense enough that this had gone under the radar. 

Kaden had fully expected that this was probably the last time he’d see the horse and planned to give her a small goodbye. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he was dreading it a little even though it was one of the many he had on the job and something he should probably have been more used to. “That so?” he asked, holding back the smile threatening to pull the corners of his lips upwards. Guess it wasn’t time for goodbye just yet. “Yeah, I can help. I’ll follow in the truck after we get her loaded up. Still on call and all that.” 

—

The zombie quietly shook his head, running his hand down her nose. “Trophy pet. Pay a lot of dinero for a pony with a rare coat, don’t think about how big she’s going to get when you ‘renovate’ the garage into a stable… nowhere for her to run? No wonder they dumped her, she’d have been an anxious mess. Must feel better already, being in an open space like this.” 

When Kaden agreed to help, Monty brightened. “Gracias, appreciate that.” Leaving the animal control officer with her for a moment more, Monty went back to the trailer and unlatched the gate, swinging it open and securing it in place. Then it was a matter of laying down the ramp, and… good. Taking the small bag of feed deep into the trailer, he set it down as bait, then retrieved the orange slices he’d brought with him. 

Returning to the pair, he exchanged the lead for the fruit, clicking his tongue and giving a very gentle tug to nudge her in the right direction. As she turned, her eyes landed on the trailer and her ears flicked back. “Give her a slice,” Monty instructed softly, “then keep leading her to the trailer with more.” She didn’t seem thrilled about the looming confinement, but the oranges were too enticing for her to outright refuse. Stamping her crooked hooves a little harder, the mare let herself be led right up to the ramp, then stopped. Her eyes widened and nostrils flared with a defiant huff as she jerked her head to the side, shifting her weight from one side to the other. 

“I know, niña, I know.” Switching places with Kaden, Monty figured that if she decided to bodycheck him into the side of the trailer, he’d at least probably come out less harmed than the officer… if only because of his regenerative traits. Still, she refused to budge, and the zombie huffed out a breath. “All right. Let’s try…” He looked around him before plucking a rope off the trailer wall and began tying a small loop at the end of it. A few knots and adjustments on the horse’s head later, and a bowline hitch was set in place. Removing the standard lead and setting it aside, the farmer gave another encouraging tug on the new halter combo, and she gave a petulant whinny before finally moving up and into the trailer. Success.

It wasn’t a long drive from here to the farm, though the going was certainly slower now that he had some precious cargo in the trailer. Pulling up by the barn, Monty was thankful that the unloading went a lot smoother. Seeing her walk with such an uneven gait, though, he realized that the hoof trimming was going to have to take priority over getting her into a field. “Change of plans,” he said to Kaden, again looking terribly apologetic. “Stay here a moment, I am going to go grab my farrier kit. I need to take care of these hooves now.” The shoes could come later, he figured.

Returning with the kit in hand, Monty had Kaden hold the horse still as he went to town on each foot, one by one, slicing them down and cutting out the excess sole until they looked perfect. The mare, to her credit, was only cantankerous for the first foot until she realized how much better it felt. From there, it was smooth sailing. Finished, Monty left the rolled-up sleeve of tools in the trailer and returned to Kaden. An additional lead was attached to her neck with one person on either side of her, and off they struck. 

“I imagine you must not work with many horses,” Monty chuckled, glancing over at his companion for the afternoon. “What is it, usually? Dogs?”

—

Kaden was no expert with horses. He liked them well enough and knew how to ride well enough to get into some tough spots in the woods and mountains for hunting that just weren’t practical to take by foot and no fucking way were any vehicles making it through. He was never the one with all the horse knowledge, he just helped out where he could. Monty, on the other hand, clearly was well-versed. The hunter nodded as he swapped the lead for the orange slices. He may not be the expert, but he knew enough about luring animals to get the gist. 

He held his hand out flat as her soft muzzle and whiskers brushed against his palm to take the orange slice. “Yeah, that’s it,” he said calmly, unable to keep the hint of a smile off his face. He took a slow step back before holding another slice just out of reach. She reached her neck out far as it could go, shoving her head towards the fruit, but her lips couldn’t grab it. “You’re going to have to come get this one yourself.” She pulled back and stretched out again, far as she could without lifting a hoof. It still wasn’t enough. And so one foot drifted up as she leaned forward. And then a little more. And a little more until she’d taken a step forward onto the ramp. The first clang of her hoof on the metal made her jump back, startled by herself. Kaden pushed his hand out a little closer and the scary sound was quickly forgotten as the mare gobbled up the treat. 

Getting up the ramp was easy enough but when she was faced with the walls threatening to surround her, the mare was warry. Kaden was wondering if she was about to bolt. Or worse. He didn’t have to wonder long before Monty slid in to swap places. Kaden was all too happy to let him proceed from there. He watched from the outside, waiting to see if he was going to need to help any but he sure as shit didn’t know how to do any of what the other man was doing. “Guess I called the right guy,” he said once the horse was loaded up and they were ready to head out to the farm. 

Once they arrived, Kaden wasn’t sure where to start. Thankfully his only job was to hold the horse while Monty did all the hard work. That much he could do. Though she was a little restless at first (and he couldn’t blame her, it looked to him like fixing her hooves was some full-scale operation), she calmed down quick enough. “Facile à faire. Tu vas bien,” he muttered to her as he stroked her forehead. He knew she had no damn clue what he was saying but it seemed to help. The occasional treats he slipped her probably didn’t hurt, either.

When that was all said and done, Kaden followed Monty’s lead and took the other rope. “Yeah not a typical call, that’s for sure,” he replied. “Usually it’s dogs and cats, yeah.” And monsters. Mostly monsters. “Occasional raccoon, squirrel, even deer. One moose. First horse, though. Take it you’re pretty familiar with them, though. How long you worked with them?” Looking around at the landscape as they walked, he had to admit, it wasn’t half bad out there. “Pretty nice piece of land you’ve got out here, too.”

—

"A moose?" Monty grinned enthusiastically. "That's wild. I've never seen one of those in person… not sure I'd want to…" They weren't exactly known for being friendly, after all. "Oh, uh… since I was thirteen, or so." Nevermind that more than a century had passed in between now and then—nearly two. "Always been working on farms, ranches, that sort of thing. Time I spent working at an orchard was awful boring. Too many people, not enough horses." He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thank you, though. It is… somewhat unfortunately close to the pit, but we make do. It was cheap to buy, at least." The slight odor in the air was not dissimilar to the one wafting through town, so it was likely that Kaden hadn't even perceived the change. "What about you? How long have you been doing what you do?" 

The horse between them was shockingly well-behaved, seemingly enjoying the feeling of having her hooves cleaned up. But as they neared the gate, her anxiety kicked in again. She might not have realized that there was a wide-open pasture beyond it, or perhaps there was simply something about it that she didn't like. Horses could be weird like that, Monty had found. 

"Hey, hey," he cooed, stopping to try and let her acclimate. "It's alright, niña. No more garages for you, I promise." 

—

“Surprisingly wasn’t the toughest day on the job, either,” Kaden added. “He got stuck in a fence so just a matter of getting him out.” The jobs that were monsters were always worse, not because he didn’t know how to deal with them so much as he didn’t know how to explain his methods as part of his job. Those were the reports that Gary griped at him about the most, always asking him how he was supposed to write anything up with no real info. He always figured it out, though. 

“Thirteen?” He raised a brow. “Would have guessed it was about since you could walk.” He seemed the type. “But yeah, I prefer working with animals to people, too. Even the cats who’d rather scratch me than get in a carrier.” Having tougher skin than most certainly helped there, though, he had to admit.

“Oh, uh, me?” Kaden wasn’t sure why the question threw him for a loop, it was simple enough. Still, he could feel sweat forming between his palms and the lead rope. “Only been in town a few months or so. Never worked animal control before that. Well, not officially but, uh…” Right, great, he was doing a stellar job looking like a normal fucking person. “I just worked a lot of odd jobs in the past. Shit like that.” None of that was suspicious, not at all. Putain.

It seemed like Kaden’s nerves were contagious as the horse grew agitated when they reached the gate. He had a feeling that the other man was going to do a better job soothing the mare than he was. Instead of trying, he carefully walked around the front of her towards the gate, slowly handing Monty the second rope so the hunter could open the gate nice and steady, hoping that might alleviate some of her stress. Less doors, more open field was probably nicer for her if he had to guess. 

—

Shrugging his shoulders, Monty looked a bit sheepish. “I mean… yes, mi familia had goats and chickens growing up, so I suppose I was tending to them the moment I could walk,” he laughed. “The horses, though, they made me wait until I was a bit bigger before I could handle them. I would sit on the fence and watch tio ride them around, training them. He took me with him a few times, before I was big enough to ride my own. It was really something.” Realizing he was rambling, the zombie pressed his lips together. “Anyway.”

Kaden’s answer, while not that odd on its face, was made odd by the strange delivery. It was… charming, in a strange sort of way. He smiled like he was trying not to laugh, and exclaimed, “Oh! Well that’s exciting then, a change of pace! I would welcome you to town, but I’m sure it’s done a good enough job of that on its own already.” There was a knowing hint of sarcasm to his tone, but he wouldn’t elaborate further. This place and all of its flaws had given him more than it had taken, so far. He wouldn’t speak ill of it. 

Giving Kaden a thankful nod as the second lead was passed to him, Monty continued to reassure the horse as the gate was pulled open. Once it stood fully ajar, her ears swiveled forward curiously and she gave a mighty swish of her tail. “Want to go check it out? Come on, love,” the man encouraged her, taking a step forward. She followed, craning her neck to give Kaden a sniff and a nudge in the chest before her hooves hit grass. And when that happened, she stood stock still, her muscles tense. For all the world, she looked concerned, but Monty was smiling. “¡Oye, there you go!” He unhooked the second lead, and then the first, leaving only the halter in place. The horse gave a loud whinny and took off into the pasture, galloping as fast as her legs could carry her and tossing her head in the air.

Swinging the gate shut again, Monty watched her with an expression of pure joy on his face. “Thank you,” he breathed, looking at Kaden and shaking his head. “She’s perfect. I am so glad she’s here.” With uncharacteristic boldness, he clapped a hand to the man’s shoulder. It wasn’t a hug, but it was just about all he could muster. 

—

“Ahh, so I was almost right.” The corners of Kaden’s mouth couldn’t help but turn upwards while Monty talked about the farm. He couldn’t say why, maybe it was just nice to hear something, well, nice for once – about a childhood that wasn’t just training and school scattered in between more training. “Anyway, yeah I’ve already had some memorable encounters in Wicked’s Rest. Come to think of it, guess this is a weird sort of town to attempt stability but here I am.” That’s what he was aiming for, right? Putain, hell if he knew what he was trying to do anymore. Other than run away from his fucking problems.

The soft snuffles and nudge from the horse shook him out of his thoughts and a laugh bubbled up in his chest. “Hey, there, it’s still me,” he told her and it seemed to be good enough for her. As she stepped away, Kaden held his breath, trying to keep steady as he watched the mare try to make a decision of what to do next, where to go. She may not have been human, sure, but he was damn familiar with that feeling. Her whole world had just turned upside down and this whole new place was laid out before her, exciting and fucking terrifying all at the same time. Hell, it was how he felt stepping off the fucking plane. 

And then, she bolted, broke free and ran. It was the best damn thing he’d seen in a while. 

Kaden was already smiling as he watched the mare explore her new home and the hand on his shoulder only widened it. “I’m glad I could get her here. Not every animal I see gets this kind of outcome,” he said, nodding towards the trotting horse. “It’s nice to see it work out. Even better to know she’s in good hands.”

He could have stood there all day watching her explore the pasture, but he’d have to leave eventually. That familiar pit hit his stomach whenever he realized his part in the success story was at the last chapter. It was a bittersweet moment walking away after getting invested and as much as he tried not to be an idiot who got invested, he always did. Still, he wasn’t leaving right that second. He’d save that feeling for later. He turned towards Monty to see if there was any rush and hell if the man looked just as thrilled as that damn horse. Kaden couldn’t help but watch him admiring the mare’s new found freedom for a bit.

Right. The horse. He cleared his throat a little and snapped his gaze back towards the paddock. “So. What are you going to name her?” he asked.

—

Before Kaden had turned to watch him, Monty had admittedly been doing exactly the same thing. Arms crossed and hooked over the top of the gate, face half buried behind them, he recognized that a familiar (but never acted upon) feeling was blooming in his chest. Dang it. Snapping his gaze forward the moment he noticed Kaden turning, he did his best to act completely natural as he felt the other’s eyes on him.

The question was a welcome break from the tension caused by being so seen, and Monty gave a thoughtful hum, lifting his head to run a hand through his unruly mop of hair. “... Manzanita, I think. Little apple.” He watched her trotting around the grass for a few moments more before glancing at Kaden, struggling to pull forth the words he wanted. This animal control officer seemed like a good man, a good person to have as a friend. And if he was trying to be more sociable, then this was someone he wouldn’t mind spending time with. 

“Kaden,” he started, his body language doing little to mask his nerves as he shifted his weight and brushed his palms on his jeans, “you’re—welcome any time. Here, I mean—to see Manzanita, or—” Or me. That wasn’t a thing you could just say to people, he’d sound like a whackjob. “Or me.” Whackjob it was. His eyes widened a little and he let out a nervous, breathy laugh, trying to backtrack. “I just mean—you can stop by. Whenever. We’re pretty much always here.” It wasn’t really helping, was it? Jesus. Dragging a hand over his face, Monty could do nothing but laugh at himself, even if he felt like dying inside. “Better at talking to animals than people, in case you couldn’t tell. Trying to work on that,” he muttered from behind the shield of his palm, giving Kaden a sort of pitiful, hopeful look. 

—

“Manzanita,” Kaden repeated, letting the word roll off his tongue as best he could. It definitely didn’t sound as nice when he tried it. He furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. “Yeah, it doesn’t work quite as nice in French. P'tite pomme is the best we’ve got.” It fit her, though. She looked like a Manzanita. 

The hunter was content to keep leaning on the fence and simply watching the mare in the pasture and he figured Monty would be the same, so he was a little surprised to hear the other man’s voice. Granted, it was less speaking, more sputtering. He had to bite back the bits of laughter threatening to spill out. It was like watching a baby deer trying to figure out how to walk, wobbling and shaky and adorable in all of their awkwardness. 

“I see. It all makes sense now,” he said, a sly smile across his face as he turned to face Monty. “You didn’t need my help at all and this was all a ploy just get me out here to the farm.” Kaden knew he shouldn’t tease too much given the earnest look on the other man’s face – there might even be some blushing under his hands there. “But yeah, I’d like that.” He reached over to give  him a nudge with his elbow. “Considering you’re not that bad to talk to.” That and, though he wasn’t about to admit it outloud, he was pretty sure this was the most he’d smiled in a while. He wasn’t going to dig into why, he wasn’t sure he wanted to lest that ruin it all. 

—

Monty tried to pronounce the French in response, finding the roundness of the language to be more difficult to navigate, and made a face. “Mhm, sí, I think I will leave that one to you and your countrymen,” he laughed. 

The farmer’s mouth hung open in silent protest as Kaden spoke, head shaking side to side as he worked up the nerve to respond. The nudge to his side jump started his voice and he finally let out a defiant huff. “Excuse you, amigo, I did need your help! And you were very helpful!” he argued through a smile, but his voice quickly softened. “But—good.” Alan would be pleased. With another chuckle, the zombie tried to wave away his nerves with a dismissive hand gesture, which of course did very little for him. “I have a friend that insists I try to meet people.” Pursing his lips, Monty watched Manzanita slowly settle herself into the grass for a good roll through the soft blades. “Besides the hands, he’s about the only person I talk to.” It wasn’t meant to sound sad, but Monty figured a person like Kaden might know where he was coming from. “So anyway, congratulations. You’re my first success story.” Chatting online was one thing, but managing to convince someone to spend more time with him after meeting him in person? That was a feat in and of itself. He smiled gently and turned his head to look at Kaden again, burying his fingers deep in his hair as he leaned against the gate again. “I know a farm isn’t exactly, you know…” The statement hung in the air, and Monty didn’t really know how to finish. Let the assumption do the footwork, then. “So we don’t have to meet here. Unless you’re really just interested in seeing Manzanita again,” he teased.

—

“That so?” Kaden's face scrunched at the word friend. Not because he was surprised that Monty did or didn’t have many friends so much as he hadn’t thought about his own situation. He wasn’t sure if he had anyone in town he’d call a friend. The only person he could think of calling that was– His throat tightened and he swallowed to force out any memories threatening to rise to the surface. It didn’t matter. Now wasn’t the time and there was shit all he could do about it. “Funny enough, not sure I’ve made a whole lot of friends in town yet, myself.” His voice was shakier than he’d like, constricted by the emotions that had gripped him. He gave a small cough to try and clear them away. He glanced back to Manzanita, trying to drink in the joy of the moment again and leave the past where it belonged. 

Turning back to Monty, all awkward and earnest as he leaned against the gate, made that easy enough. A smile fell back onto his face as he tried to fill in the blanks of the other man’s sentence. There were a few ways that could go and Kaden wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. Or what he wanted it to mean, if he was being honest. Maybe it was best not to overthink shit. “You like coffee?” he asked, stupid smile still spread across his face, he was sure of it.   

—

He knew it. It was a joyless victory, though, because Kaden clearly wasn’t okay with that fact. Or rather, there was some underlying thing-–a memory, maybe—that was making it a painful realization. “Well then, I guess congrats to both of us are in order,” he offered, trying to lighten the moment if he could. 

“I do, actually… now you mention it.” His smile took on a more playful edge, and frankly, he was impressed with himself. This was going great! It never went this great. Maybe getting out all that crap he’d been bottling up with Alan not that long ago had more good than he’d realized. Maybe he was finally not an emotionally constipated weirdo who panicked at the thought of being alone with a stranger. And in a date setting no less—not that that’s what this was. Not exactly. Was it? He didn’t know, and for the moment, chose not to dwell on it. Not when he was doing such a good job at being normal, for the most part. 

“When’s your shift end?”

—

“Well good thing the one thing I scouted out in town was the best coffee places.” Kaden had to admit, this almost seemed too good to be true. Go on a case, come out with a– well, he wasn’t sure if it was anything other than coffee. Still, a relatively normal moment, in Wicked’s Rest? He hadn’t been there that long, but he’d been there long enough to know that things almost always went a little sideways. If there was another shoe about to drop, he didn’t want to even think about waiting for it, though. Not to mention, he was still on a farm and it still smelled like a farm, mixed with the scent of low tide that was lingering around the entire town. Alright, he didn’t need to be pinched to know it was still very much real. Maybe he should just fucking accept that on occassion something decent could happen to him. 

He wasn’t certain, but he was pretty sure that it was the question that made his stomach do a small flip. Putain, that was stupid. “Uh, good question.” Kaden took a quick glance at his watch. “I’ve got a few hours still. Unfortunately.” 

—

“That’s perfect, plenty of time to get this girl all cleaned up and properly fed, wey. No problems.” The day was still pretty young, and the coffee shop he had in mind was one that was open late, anyway. “Well, tell you what—I’ll get the lady settled in, clean myself up, and meet you at that place downtown in a few hours, eh? What’s it called… Latte to Love?” He shrugged, not understanding the play on words (they weren’t his strength, especially not when they were in English), but was smiling all the same. “And don’t rush yourself. No pressure, no problems.” Was he repeating that for Kaden, or for himself? Hard to say. 

Once the pair had reached the barn and their respective vehicles, Monty gave Kaden another handshake, this time with both hands. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said cheerfully, “And I look forward to meeting you again in a less… professional setting.”

—

“That’s the one. Should be a pretty easy rest of the day, I hope.” Damnit, Kaden hoped he didn’t curse himself by saying that. He just wanted a nice, normal, simple shift. The last thing he needed was to run into a monster on the way to the fucking coffee shop. It would be his luck. “Sounds good to me. Considering I’d rather not show up with animal pi–” Wait, was that too crass or… Putain, he was overthinking shit now when he wasn’t before. Stupid “Uh, animal bodily fluids on my clothes. Tends to happen. Definitely not one of the highlights of the job.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck, hoping that his face hadn’t gone red at all. 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said, mirroring Monty’s grip as they shook hands. “See you soon, mon ami.” Hopping back into his truck and driving back to the shelter to put in the paperwork for this case, Kaden couldn’t help but continuously glance at the clock, trying to make the time go faster. He just hoped he wouldn’t run into Andy or Alex when he stopped back at the cabin – he didn’t want to deal with the fucking third degree they were gonna give him. 

[its-deputy-caleb]

Hello!! i saw that requests were open!! i was wondering if you could do a modern au (or yara without anton) where everyone gets to live peacefully! i hope its not too much to ask for clara, juan, yelena and camila (or any characters of your choice)

i love youre writing so much! thank you for writing this in advance <3

FC6 — Modern AU!

okayy so i had major writers block, then i read this sad ass poem and got inspired as hell. these are a lot longer than expected but i hope you like them!! they feel more like a short fic than HC's but im hoping that's okay and that it still feels in character cause idk and with a new addition of zenia i don't feel confident in these at all lmao pls enjoy !!

Clara García

Clara lives along the affluent east side of Barrial in Valle de Oro. Her home isn’t over the top, in fact she downsized after she refused to conform to the snobbery of her parents but it still held a beautiful ocean view and a large living space.

There was lots of spots to enjoy the view (in fact almost every room in the two story Villa had access to it) but nothing beat the top floor balcony which never failed to make her feel at ease. It was like the sea breeze could just lift her up and carry her away from all the burden of family and responsibility.

Her library is the favourite part of her house. It’s small compared to what she’s known in her childhood home but it holds all the tales, poems and histories which she fell in love with. Clara will spend hours resting on an armchair or couch, reading idly before she eventually falls asleep.

Fresh from university, Clara intends to use her education and her power to enter politics. Whilst this peaceful Yara is free and happy, it’s far from perfect and so she dedicates her life to demanding better for Yara’s poor and disadvantaged.

Clara, with your help of course owns a charity for Orphans of Yara (something her family weren’t too happy about). Despite her not having the same experience, the people she considers family— Dani, Juan, Lita, Julio and yourself have all struggled and so the two of you regularly go to visit the children with gifts and homemade foods.

Sometimes, Clara does need a break from time to time and you’ll gently sit her on the couch with her back to your chest. The two of you will just soak up each others warmth as you read her favourite poems to her, leaning down for kisses during the verses.

Juan Cortez

Juan may live in a peaceful Yara, but that’s not gonna change his lifestyle much. His workshop and home is the abandoned San Telmo Lighthouse in El Este where it is very much still a mess.

The hazardous weapons, technology, chemicals and god knows what else are mostly contained to the workshop section of his home (but let’s be clear he practically lives there) whilst the old lighthouse has been restored to a level that’s liveable.

Surprisingly, the kitchen has a rather flashy edge to it. Not in the sense anything is new but his own upgrades and trinkets means the appliances have a fancy grade quality to them. Juan will never admit it but you’ve seen him countless of times dancing around the kitchen with music whilst he either makes dinner or dishes for Guapo.

His job is somewhat ambiguous… on paper he’s a ‘weapons expert’ but for who— well that depends on how much. But those bigger higher paid jobs from governments don’t come often so he’ll take smaller jobs like repairing hunting rifles from the neighbouring farms and tinkering with the odd car that needs repairs.

His favourite thing to do is spend quality time with the two people he loves most, that being you and Guapo. Sometimes you’ll go for walks along the beach, or even fishing out on a boat (even though he’s too impatient to catch anything and Guapo eats the bait before it hits the water). But as long as he’s with you, he’s the happiest man alive.

Juan has a tendency to get lost in his work, unintentionally losing track of time whilst he drills, welds and tinkers with scraps of metal and industrial composites. That just means you have to drag him off to bed so the two of you can spoon up and he can snore in your ear like the loveable old man he is.

Camila ‘Espada’ Montero

Camila’s home is a version of what her father envisioned only much smaller. Her snug farm tucked away in the mountains of Madrugada has the best sunsets and fields for the few horses she owns.

The house itself is quite small, giving room to the grazing paddocks she has strewn around the property but it doesn’t feel small inside. The open living room is perfect for snuggling in front of the fire on a cold night, where you can just enjoy the peacefulness of nature.

Her favourite part of the house has to be the backyard and porch area. Camila can either sit there with her morning coffee alone or she can set up fairy lights and a table to invite her large family over for dinner.

Espada has a whole rang of community based jobs which she manages all at once. On weekends she’s down at the farmers market selling her own collection fruits and vegetables whilst buying some for herself. Other times she’s training, helping people both with horse riding and her skills with her sword.

Of course, you’re with her every step of the way. Some of your mundane domestic activities together end up being your favourites. Both of you have to check the fences each morning whilst walking the dogs— with your hand in hers and the crisp frost blowing from your mouth, it feels like a real life dream.

You love the life you’ve built together on her farm and even though you enjoy the hard work of farm way of life (you had to in order for Carlos’ blessing) but sometimes you just love collapsing into a hot bath together. Your limbs are tangled and steam floats off you but its so different to the sweaty labor of working with horses.

Bembé Alvarez

Bembé lives in a surprisingly cozy apartment above his local business in Segunda. It’s mostly unliveable space but with a little bit of hard work (and money) he transforms it into a pretty welcoming home.

His shop is on the flashier end, turning Yara’s old furniture, ornaments and antiques into newly restored luxury items which fetch a high price. He loves arranging his store, finding spots for new art works and sculptures amongst the array of coffee tables and armchairs.

It’s a stark contrast to the warm bedroom and living space he calls home. Bembé’s bed catches the light in the morning and it softens some of the exposed concrete walls which he’s decorated with house plants and some artwork he kept for himself instead of selling.

Obviously his job as a small business owner is pretty similar to the Black Market King only he’s not smuggling anything and instead buying, restoring and selling his goods. He still deals with all the worldwide customers as well as a few locals which always keeps him busy.

When he does take time away from work, he loves spending it with you. Bembé often takes you out to drinks or a nice dinner if the evening calls. Sometimes its eating delicious street food from local restaurants and others its a fancy night out in Esperanza.

Of course, you can’t always find the time between work schedules but your favourite time together is curled up in his bed late at night. Both of you snuggling as you watch the town’s skyline out the large wall length window.

Yelena Morales

Yelena lives in a cramped, highly overpriced apartment in Esperanza but she totally justifies it to you and everyone else that it’s convenient to get to university by walking.

Her home is definitely in need of some TLC as most apartments are but she’s covered all the chipping paint and rotten panelling with house plants, artworks and her favourite pieces of clutter which make it feel like home.

It’s a tight squeeze with a barely passable kitchen and even smaller bedroom but her pops of colour make the rooms feel much larger than it is, and it’s perfect for curling up on her bed to watch movies or study.

As a student of Espinoza University she’s pretty much living the university life of cheap foods and stacks of textbooks but she’s incredibly smart. Yelena is heavily involved with all the University unions, clubs, protests and activism groups— not to mention she writes for the campus paper about issues she’s passionate about.

Young, and in desperate need of some fun the two of you try to get out as much as possible whether that’s lunch with friends or partying with Yara’s nightlife. But whatever you do, it’s always done together, with your arms linked and fingers intertwined.

Sometimes when you’re both feeling adventurous you sneak out onto the rooftops of the university. Resting against the ventilation system, the two of you watch the city skyline as Yelena tucks her head into your neck and the two of you just cuddle for hours into the night.

Zenia Zayas

Zenia absolutely adores her hometown of Esperanza, and after moving out of her father’s home she bought herself a large and modern industrial, studio apartment.

There’s almost a full one-eighty degree view of Esperanza and the water, along with multiple large windows which are perfect for natural light and inspiration (although not great for sleeping in when the sun comes blaring through the bedroom).

Her favourite room has to be the corner designated to her work as an artist. It’s littered with canvases against the windows and paint of the walls from broken spray paint canisters. She can be in her element for hours in her space and it never ceases to make her feel inspired and at home.

Obviously, Zenia’s occupation is an artist but it ranges from form to form. She loves her signature spray paint and street style, using her platform to promote freedom of expression to Yara but she also loves to sculpt just like her father had. 

It’s not often but the two of you will get dressed up in fancy attire to premier her artwork at the galleries across Yara. It’s always those moments when you’re most proud of her, and you make sure she knows it with a string of kisses and hugs whilst journalists take her photo and critics applaud her work.

But your favourite moments (and Zenia’s as well after she confessed you’re her biggest source of inspiration) are when the two of you are wrapped up in bed together. Her large mattress is encased in the yellow glow of the sunset, leaving you beaming as you kiss and just hold each other in an embrace.

[eric-the-bmo]

Neighborhood Watch S2 Ep1: Shindig

Hello!! We finished the first session of season 2! And jesus christ- a lot happens, it was a bit disjointed! But I’m here to try and make sure it’s all coherent! (my own personal comments will be in the tags) So let’s go!

A week has passed since the Season One finale; the Dome’s been dropped, and everyone in the Main Cast knows that John is a monster. Since the Dome is gone, the rest of the town had been unlocked for us to explore!

During the week, Song buys new flowers for her house at the florist- she runs into Louis, who’s been buying native wildflowers to improve his lawn. He runs into some interns who work for the mayor, who offer him some free seed packets for some newly discovered flower- They grow quick, with thick thorny vines and stems, and are ready to bloom within a week with beautiful tie-dye-esque colors. Louis declines, not trusting anyone who’s a part of the government, and the florist owner, Kathy, is wary of the flowers due to how quick they grow; they can very easily become invasive.

Song does archery practice with Amira in her backyard- Amira has not mentioned John being a monster, and Song hasn’t asked her about it. Amira does mention, however, that while hiding in Song’s house during the s1 finale she found a black book with a red gem. That’s one of Song’s spellbooks, and Song vaguely says she uses it to help protect herself. Amira shows interest in it, and Song discreetly tries to sense if Amira has the potential to become a magic-user- but Amira’s aura indicates she doesn’t have any ability for magic at all, which is odd because all humans normally have the capacity for it; the center of her soul is dead-blue.

Shelby starts her Twitch-streaming again, with the internet being back up, and when she’s not busy with that John spends time with her; Not only because she’s his friend, but as a way to make up for making her worry so much (and to avoid the rest of the Main Cast). Sometime during the week John tries to go the park, but sees Louis there and immediately turns around to go home. He also fills in Emmett about the events of taking down the Hunter, omitting the fact that he is one himself.

Markus keeps to themself for most of the week, ordering take-out (there’s only one Uber driver in Greenville, btw, his name is Kyle and he sells weed on the side) and healing from their wounds. At some point, they get rid of Emmett’s corpse with carrion beetles, and use his bones to make bonemeal for various projects- including their worm farm. Towards the end of the week, they decide it’s been long enough- They march right up to the Doe/Waters household and knock on the door. Shelby is busy streaming, and so John answers. He freezes when he sees it’s Markus, and in a cold panic he closes the door. Through the window he sees that Markus looks sad, and they walk away. John feels awful, and is still reeling from the cold panic, but he doesn’t want to make it awkward by opening the door again, and they’ll want to talk about that night, oh no, god you fucked up- And so he decides to head to the park, as part of him still finds nature to be calming/ feeling a bit like home. He people watches, observing the librarian reading a book, until it starts to get darker out, and begins his walk home.

Meanwhile, going back to Markus walking home, I feel it’s time to mention that some more neighbors have moved in during the week- Two of them being Heath and Sammy Clark. Heath, a 5′6 blonde guy, jogs up to a dejected Markus and invites to him and Sammy’s get-together (in fact, they’ve sent out invites to the entire cul-de-sac). Markus doesn’t seem too into it, and heads home.

On the topic of new neighbors, I’ll summarize them now:

The Clarks have moved in across from Phil. Heath is an outgoing trans man, and Sammy is a very quiet and hairy ginger man who’s almost 7ft tall.

Bonnie McMurry moves in next to Shelby and John. She’s a sweet older lady in her mid 60s and lives alone, though she had a bunch of odd-shaped boxes with her labeled “Lois”. Shelby had asked about it, revealing Bonnie had an adult son who passed some years ago. During the night, loud music can be heard from her basement.

William Krieger is a socially awkward and reclusive man with a pencil stache. He keeps his pet rats in his many coat pockets.

Kenneth Feinstetter lives across the street from Louis. He is a loud and boisterous man with glasses who will tell anyone willing to listen to him about his ridiculous conspiracy theories regarding Greenville.

Some moving trucks come in at midnight. Lucretius Wayne introduces himself to the neighbors, sending out gift baskets of high quality. He’s charming, and even the Pattersons like him.

Louis recognizes Lucretius as the vampire Lestat. His ex.

But the time for the Clark’s party is here, and Markus decides they’re going. They get all dressed and give themself a pep-talk about how they’re going to make friends. They head outside and see the Pattersons are heading over to the party as well, and for a moment consider heading home, but then Lucretius appears with some wine and greets the Pattersons; Karen waves at him, and Bob seems... jealous? Markus decides to go, if only to see this drama unfold.

Louis doesn’t like being left out and decides to go. As he’s walking over, William approaches him and wants to be invited to the party. Louis makes a comment about if William is really going with a jacket that has so many pockets, and William responds he’s got to bring his family with him. Louis doesn’t like William, who’s standing far too close to him, and so when Philip approaches Louis takes his chance to leave. Kenneth approaches Louis and asks if he’s seen anything weird, or out of the ordinary? Louis almost says no, but then mentions that he’s never seen Lucretius leave his house til after sundown- he might as well try and direct suspicion towards his ex.

Song decides to bring some wine over, and as she exits her home Lucretious greets her; They compare the wine they’re bringing, and he offers her his arm. She takes it, and together they walk to the Clark household. Louis sees this, and though his expression remains calm, his grip tightens. The Sampath family is going; Amira waves to Song, and she and Lu wave back.

Markus approaches the Pattersons and asks how Karen is doing (bc, yknow, The Curse), and she says she’s doing much better. Bob thanks Markus, who says that while they don’t like each other, they don’t want his wife to die, and Bob says he’ll owe Markus a favor because of their help. Markus squirms away.

John and Shelby are going as well; John prepares a snack tray to bring along. As the two of them leave they hear music coming from Bonnie’s basement; as much as John wouldn’t admit it, part of him is glad he’s away from the noise.

The Clarks are greeting people as they enter; John approaches, sees the rest of the Main Cast and seriously considers leaving, but Shelby interprets this as general social anxiety and reassures him it’ll be fine. He makes eye contact with Song as she approaches- her gaze hardens, and John looks away. Lucretius asks Song if everything is okay; she responds by saying not everyone in the neighborhood is getting along at the moment. Lucretius is invited inside by Heath.

Inside is very spacious; the archways leading to the different rooms have been altered to be taller, and even then Sammy has to bend over a little bit to avoid hitting his head. There’s snacks, drinks, etc. Sammy offers Philip some alcohol, and he turns it down. Markus is in awe of how tall Sammy is, and heads to a corner to vibe. They can hear the spiders behind the bookshelf in their corner. William shows up to stand next to them, and Markus bluntly tells him that they want him to go away (”Please go away. I can say it in four different languages if you’d like.”) William’s smile starts to fade at Markus’ insistence, and he actually starts to look angry, but then gets distracted by a snack tray and scurries away.

John and Shelby have bumped into Kenneth, who’s informing the both of them about some kind of drama going down on Twitter. John doesn’t have social media, so he doesn’t quite know what he’s talking about, but he likes listening to people talk and wants Kenneth to like him- especially since Kenneth doesn’t know about his monstrous nature. Shelby brings up the fact she’s a Twitch Streamer, upon which Kenneth looks her up on the Internet, and then awkwardly excuses himself.

Everyone starts to vote for which party game to play. John approaches Philip, who’s trying to tune his guitar to bring some extra entertainment to the party, but Phil is having a bit of trouble tuning it. Lucretius appears and offers to tune it, and plays a flamenco riff (and winking at Louis), absolutely showing up whatever Phil was planning to do (John doesn’t interpret it that way, though, and thinks it’s nice how Lucretius helped out Phil). Markus and John both notice Bob Patterson and Louis going off into one of the other rooms of the house- Bob has noticed Louis’s reactions to Lucretius, and asks if they know each other. Louis tries to play it off- not every person with a southern accent knows each other, Bob- but Mr Patterson wants to know if Lucretius is anything similar to the monster he saw the previous week, if something supernatural is going on. Louis says nothing supernatural is going on with any of the new neighbors, in response Bob whispers something to him before storming out. Louis, apparently a bit shaken by what Mr Patterson had whispered, takes a moment before leaving the room and heading back to the party.

The group has decided on Two Truths One Lie. Some highlights:

William glaring at Markus the entire time

Almost every normal neighbor hoping that Markus’s “I have over 300 bugs at my house” bit is the lie

Everyone immediately guessing Philip’s lie (divorced but on good terms)

Kenneth putting one of his truths down as him “knowing the truth about this town.” Song asks him what that means, and Kenneth invites Song over to his house to look at his charts and notes some day.

Lucretius smiling at Louis the entire time is was Louis’ turn (we find out Louis is allergic to wool)

Flirting with Song when it was her turn (He’s been flirting with her the whole party, I should add.)

And then it’s Lucretius’s turn. He grins, and gives his options: 1) He was born in Louisiana. 2) He has a skin condition that prevents him from being out in the sun 3) ...And he’s bloodthirsty monster.

Louis knew this, but Song doesn’t pick up on the danger; like almost everyone else, she’s incrediby charmed by Lucretius. John was too, actually, but as soon as that was said, John realizes that Lucretius’s charm is all part of a lure to get prey, and that he could be something similar to John. Markus realizes the danger as well, and deduces that everyone in this room could be in danger- so they summon a bunch of cockroaches to scare everyone away. Almost no one notices it was them who caused the roaches- except for William, who’s been staring at them the whole time.

People start running away in the chaos- Heath faints, Sammy tries to stomp the bugs (shaking the house with this, actually), and Louis tries to get ahold of Song, but Lucretius has taken her hand before he could do anything and has gotten her out of there. Lucretius offers to walk her home, and she accepts. Once outside, John tries to make eye contact with Markus- a “did we both notice the same thing” kind of look. Markus sees this and looks almost panicked, an “oh god not again look” (Unknown if it was fear about John or the event happening), before their gaze becomes sad. A monstrous roar appears from inside the house, and Markus races inside. John tries to head in too, but Louis calls out to him and says they need to talk. John anxiously says something about getting rid of the roaches and attempts to get away, worried Louis wants to talk about That Night, but the Crooked stops him (”John. This isn’t about you”). 

Meanwhile, inside, Markus sees Sammy angrily stomping at the roaches. Markus, not wanting to have their bugs killed, leads them out with food. Sammy corners Markus and, speaking for the first time, growls a comment about how he didn’t see what Markus did was necessary, and that he knows about their kind and would appreciate that Markus never do that again. Markus stammers an apology and runs home.

Louis leads John to his house, where he asks what John knows about Lucretius. John tells him (how the charm is a lure, how he might be like him), and Louis says that John is strong enough to take him on in a fight, but not strong enough to survive; Song is in just as much danger in Lucretius’s presence as she is in John’s. At this comment John tense and seems angry, and Louis said it wasn’t meant to offend: He needs John’s help to kill Lucretius, after all. Stakes, garlic, crosses and etc might be useful. Also, Louis tells John, Bob knows about Lucretius, the house shook when Sammy tried to kill some roaches, William has rats in his pockets- there’s a Lot more to deal with than John being a monster, or even Louis’s ex being a vampire.

Meanwhile, Lucretius has walked Song back to her house. He says it was a pleasure to hang out with her this night, and Song agrees- but the night isn’t finished yet; Would he like to come inside for some coffee?

He accepts, and is invited inside.

[pugwitharug]

The Griefers Playing Minecraft

I decided to make a little sequel to this post after wandering around for like an hour looking for cacti (spoiler: I didn't find any) and I wanted to experience the lovelies once again. It's gonna have the same basic beginnings as the first post but I don't feel like writing it all out. I'm lazy and tired deal with it

🐇Tulsi Ain🐇

Redstone specialist. She makes every type of farm, all the grinders, and it's all so efficient. She makes me jealous cuz I can't do shit

She steals everything from the villagers lol, but she levels up the traders to their highest level. She probably traps them in boxes or something so she doesn't have to track them down all the time

She has these huge farms of animals, mainly cows, so she can get leather to make books, to make bookshelves, to make an effective enchanting table. She puts so many enchantments on her tools

She named a diamond enchanted sword Zenith...........my darling...............

She tries to capture the bunnies and make a little bunny pen. She gets mad when they keep jumping away. Slippery little fuckers

In terms of a house, she leans more to stone. Polished stone and bricks with cobblestone and mossy bricks dotted around as accents. Of course, everything is redstoned and automated

She spends a lot more time on Minecraft than she'd like to admit, but she likes it and it's fun shut up

I feel like she wouldn't mind being on some sort of roleplaying server, or somewhere she can have a job like a blacksmith and get paid in ores and live a life in a nice little village

She makes a skin that looks like her.......with the wittle bunny ears.........and her apron with a little oil stain on it, just like her real life one..................

She would make tutorials on YouTube for redstone and how to make the farms and stuff. She wants to help people learn

Baby bunny I love her so much

🗡️Elowen de Bhaldraithe🗡️

She loves fighting the monsters! She likes jumping into dark caves or the Nether or the End and just beating the shit out of all of them

She's not that good at fighting at first but shhhh no one else must know

Crossbow is her main long range weapon, it packs more of a punch than a normal bow, along with the magic arrows. Other than that, she uses an iron sword cuz it looks most like her real life swords

She defends villages from pillagers and takes over their outpost when they're all dead. Actually she just defends a village in general. Not for the villagers but for the XP and stuff. Definitely not for the villagers /src

If she does make a house of her own, which she probably won't, she'd use dark oak and spruce. Nice comfy and dark feeling, just like her :3

She tames wolves and brings them along on her journeys. She takes great care to make sure they're healthy and safe. She's sad for a week when one of them dies but will deny any relation to the stupid game you showed her

You know she's a softie at heart of course :3

She wanders around looking for loot--she fishes a lot to feed the dolphins to guide her, she looks for ruined Nether portals, she looks for the spooky mansions cuz sometimes they have loot, anything you can think of

(btw have they gotten rid of the jungle temple things cuz I haven't seen one in years and idk if it's bad luck or if they're just gone)

If she got invited to be like a town protector or a mercenary or something on a roleplay server by Tulsi or Lucan, she'll join, but she still prefers to play by herself

She'll get really focused on it and if you come in and ask her a question she'll jump and fall off the cliff face she was trying to navigate. She throws the phone at you and you don't even know what you did wrong

*sighs* cat wifey......I love her

🐯Lucan de Bhaldraithe🐯

He likes building! He likes making cool things! I like to think he has a secret eye for design so he doesn't need to look at too many tutorials to make things look cool

He audibly gasps whenever he sees a cute mob. Pandas, polar bears, foxes, the itty bitty kibby cats, bees

Listen, he's not a cottagecore kinda guy, but.....he will make a house in a flower field near a beehive because he thinks it's cool

He might try to make a little town in creative mode first and make sure it has all the supplies he needs so he can switch it to survival and live in comfort :3

He'd also play on the same roleplay server as Tulsi! He'd probably be an architect and get paid big bucks (aka stacks of emeralds) to make new buildings for people with new roles

He doesn't understand potions or redstone lol. It just doesn't click with him. He's a smart guy in general don't get me wrong but he just doesn't understand it

Ooooh and banners! He likes making cool banners and hanging them on the outside of houses and using them as waypoints and stuff. Those he does have to follow a few tutorials tho cuz it can be confusing with the layering and stuff

He loves taming animals and will not hide his sadness like Elowen does when one of his wolves dies

He'd also like the allays but when he frees them he just gives them a random item so they don't fly off and it's like...a piece of andesite and he can't figure out how to give them a new item so it never gets to do its job

He loves that you introduced him to this game cuz now he associates it with you, who he also loves! He's such a puppy please I love him--

🐮Balsam Taureau🐮

(that's not an actual last name it's just 'bull' in French)

(please give him a last name I am BEGGING)

Anyways, he's not the best at what you would consider the essentials at Minecraft. He can't make cool buildings like Lucan without a strict tutorial, he doesn't understand redstone like Tulsi does, and he gets shit on by hostile mobs cuz he tends to just run headfirst towards them (blame the bull instincts)

But you know what he is good at? Farming

He has these big sprawling farms that spread out across the plains, or he has the cool terrace farms, either way they're really cool

He grows a lot of crops and he knows all of the most efficient layouts for all the crops cuz he is the Plant Dad and that is canon

He also keeps a bunch of livestock and somehow has the best luck with the chicken eggs (even though he keeps accidentally hitting the chickens with them lol)

He tames horses and names them after the people who are important to him... white and black one named Sage....a ginger one named Lucan.....a brown one named Tulsi......he loves them all and I love him

He doesn't go mining often enough to find rare ores cuz he spends most of his time checking on his crops, so all of his tools are iron

He also won't admit it but he doesn't like going into caves.....he enters one, hears a cave noise, stops, and turns right the fuck around XD he's not about to deal with that

Really the only way he gets rare stuff is by getting paid in the server. He doesn't wanna venture out too far

Your honor he's a Good Boi who just wants to tend to his crops leave him be

[ursiiformes]

@forwardintros || ( michiel huisman, male, he/him ) – Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that ROYAL MERCER is a forty-two year old AUTO MECHANIC that’s been in Chicago for HIS WHOLE LIFE. According to the file, they’re a mutant on LEVEL 2 with the power of BEAR PHYSIOLOGY. That must be why they’re COMPASSIONATE and TERRITORIAL. If you ask me, they remind me of tight, black leather with silver fastenings, the rumble of a well-cared-for engine, a kitchen bursting at the seams with knick-knacks, and misty mornings beside a shallow river. They are affiliated with THE MERCER FAMILY.  

under the cut: basic info, appearance, personality info, bio, pinterest link tw for mentions of bullying

BASIC INFO

FULL NAME: royal mercer NICKNAMES: roy, papa bear AGE: forty two BIRTHDATE: may 1st GENDER: cis man PRONOUNS: he / him SEXUALITY: bisexual ;) SPECIES: mutant AFFILIATION: the Mercer Family

APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 6’6” / 198cm BUILD: one of the best words for him is probably ‘beefy.’ he has the sort of thighs you see in those watermelon crushing videos that go viral, with the arms, back, and chest to match. he’s a big dude. HAIR COLOR: chestnut brown EYE COLOR: warm, rich brown, with a hint of gold reminiscent of sunlight through whiskey ETHNICITY: white jewish (irish + dutch) NATIONALITY: us american TATTOOS: several, many still tbd by mun. currently determined tattoos include: a portrait of his first dog, rosie, with her adoption date underneath on his left forearm; a back piece consisting of the silhouette of a bear staring up at the moon – the bear’s silhouette is filled by an intricate dotwork forest of pine trees, and the moon is just as finely detailed even as the dots of it disperse into nothingness just before curving over his right shoulder; four dates on his left pectoral, just over his heart, arranged in a heart and styled as follows: xx.xx.xxxx – the first two are the day he and aneesa first met and the day he moved in with her, the second two are samin’s birthday and the date royal was officially granted legal guardianship over samin. there is an ornate filigree that surrounds them, completing the heart with a baroque flourish. PIERCINGS: both nipples, a tongue stud, and a prince albert SCARS: a small, difficult to see scar through his right eyebrow, a jagged gash across his right wrist from a bad fall as a kid that ended with a compound fracture, a bullet wound in his right shoulder from a night he doesn’t like to talk about, and a collection of small but numerous ones on his hands from various nicks, cuts, burns, and scrapes accumulated over years of working with his hands. OTHER: very hairy, but well manscaped

PERSONALITY

ALIGNMENT: neutral good ZODIAC: sun: taurus, moon: aries, rising: taurus TRAITS: loyal, protective, stubborn, kind, mistrustful of authority figures, irritable yet also chill

BIO

royal grew up on his family's farm outside the city limits of Chicago. it was a strange but wonderful place to grow up – populated by several branches of family as well as friends, it was more of a commune than a simple farm, though they shied away from that word with good reason.

life on the farm taught him a great many things – how to identify wild plants and animals, or avoid being attacked by an angry goose. eventually, the adults of the farm steered lessons in a different direction, focusing on mutant history and relations, with sneaky additions of conflict resolution and de-escalation tactics. after all, the best way to get kids to learn is to trick them into it with a game.

mutations ran in his family, both of his parents were mutants, and two of his grandparents too. royal was the middle of three sons, all mutants as well. of course, they didn't know this when they were born, but they suspected for some time, and royal grew up with the expectation that he would one day develop a mutation.

school was something of a challenge for royal, and royal was something of a challenge for the school as well. he argued with his teachers, sometimes simply for the fun of it, he played copious amounts of pranks on staff and students alike, and worst of all, he got into many, many fights with other students. it started out with him intervening on behalf of other students, but soon this transformed royal into a target in his own right. unfortunately for the bullies, and the school principal, this little seven year old had a wicked left hook and he wasn't afraid to use it.

after royal's mutation manifested for the first time at age eleven, the bullying got worse. other children were ganging up on royal, who soon found himself facing sometimes up to five other children at a time. after a particular incident during sixth grade, in which a bad fight took a worse turn, royal lost control of his mutation and transformed, and bit one of the kids who had been trying to beat him up. the boy needed eleven stitches to close the bite, and so at this point, the mercers made the decision to withdraw royal from public school and finish his education at home on the farm, with more than a little encouragement from the school officials. 

school on the farm was largely unremarkable for royal, except for the fact that now he actually did his work (most of the time). aside from school, the majority of his time during these years was spent helping his aunt and her wife in the garage – scurrying back and forth with tools and water and other ephemera that they needed. soon enough they discovered his aptitude for repair work, and took to letting him help out, with extensive supervision of course. he adored it.

royal managed to convince his parents to let him go back for the last two years of high school, with some caveats. he didn't want to do classroom learning anymore – there was a vocational training program offered through the school district with an auto-mechanic training course. that was what royal wanted to do. he knew that he would still have to suffer through some of the same old boring shit as before, but he figured that getting to do something he actually liked made up for it pretty well.

for their part, his parents wanted him to pick and play a sport, hoping the activity would provide a good outlet for his emotions and thereby keep him out of trouble. they weren't expecting him to pick wrestling of all things, but it did actually (mostly) work. he loved it as much as he loved mechanic work, so the threat of getting kicked off the team was quite effective. there weren't zero fights but there were fewer and they mostly took place off school property, so that was an improvement. right? more importantly though, royal was able to graduate with his peers and obtain his first certification.

college was similarly uninteresting to royal, at least academically. he got his certifications and everything, and that was what he cared about. the social experience of it though was another story. the people he settled in with after high school were some of the first people to ever make him feel like he belonged anywhere outside his family farm. he fell in love more than a few times, but the only one he ever stayed in contact with was aneesa ofori. though it wasn’t love, there was something special between the two of them.

when royal was about 26 his younger brother, roman, disappeared. he had been moving into his own apartment, a birthday present. but he left the house and simply never arrived at his new apartment. the movers were there with his things for an hour before they called his parents, who had kissed him goodbye nearly two hours before. the following 24 hours were a blur of panicked phone calls, tears, and disbelief. the next three weeks? agony. roman’s entire life sat in boxes, stacked in an empty apartment in rogers park, and there was not a trace of him to be found anywhere else. the police eventually refused to keep looking, and it broke royal.

he pulled away from everyone and everything. already living on his own, he visited his parents and the farm less, stopped going out to parties and dinners and game nights with friends. the only thing he did was work, but even that was only part time. the burden of his grief was too heavy for anything else. it swallowed him, and for three long years he lived half a life.

eventually his parents made a decision, desperate to regain one of the sons they had lost. they got him a dog. a rescue. the way she cowered and shook cracked something open in royal's chest. as he would tell it later, that first night where they sat on opposite sides of the living room, him tossing her little shreds of roasted chicken every so often, was the first night he felt anything at all in three years. at that point, he realized he needed some serious help, much like rosie, his new dog. with a little help from his family and friends, he dragged himself into therapy, and began to heal the grief of his brother’s disappearance.

his relationship with rosie developed into a love for the ages – it was also the start of royal’s volunteer work with the animal rescue. over the years he adopted several dogs, and found safe, happy homes for hundreds of others.

at thirty-two royal finally took the chance and started his own business, mercer automotive repair. it took nearly a year to get the location he had purchased up and running, but when he finally did he couldn't have been happier. soon enough, he had a reputation for honesty and quality work that kept customers both new and old coming in the door.

PRESENT DAY

within the past few years, royal moved in with his long-time friend aneesa, to help her raise her teenage son, samin. while he's fully aware of the fact that he isn't the kid's father, it's definitely the role he plays in his life, and he honestly loves it.

his business is still doing well so he can often be found there, but he also spends fair amounts of time at the gym, out in the woods outside the city, home with aneesa and samin, visiting his family’s farm, or spending time in the lesser known parts of the city – the local kink community specifically.

last but certainly not least – after one of the groups escaped from the kappa facility royal began to have nightmares about his brother. horrible, gut-wrenching nightmares filled with freezing blackness and the echo of his brother's voice calling his name desperately. but it's probably nothing, right?

PINTEREST

[link]

[strangefellows]

I am also suffering from 'can't work without a prompt' so I'm here to put one in your inbox but I don't know any guys from your animes so you'll have to pick which one to write about for this one l: “I picked a bad time to become a decent person.”

HILARIOUSLY i was just poking at thoughts abt a character who this would fit perfectly, so here have some thoughts i’m trying to put together through a drabble

----

It was, for a moment, incredibly tempting to throttle the woman in front of him. Deeply so. And yet, for some reason, he didn’t.

(He knew the reason. But if that man could be a world champion of denial, so could he.)

“Why are you like this,” he asked instead, voice flat and hoarse from disuse, with an undercurrent of irritation despite his best efforts (or maybe due to them, he wasn’t certain anymore). “Why.”

She just grinned at him. “You know the answer to that,” she teased. “I’m incurably reckless and terminally diagnosed with Hero Syndrome. And maybe I just like messing with you.”

“I don’t think I would say maybe,” he snapped. “You could have died, you realize. I could list the ways it could have happened, but I’d have to choose whether to do so chronologically or in order of severity, and we would be here far, far too long.” 

She had the gall to raise her eyebrows. “Because you’re just dying to run away again, right?” She asked. “I mean, I’m actually looking at you straight on this time! That’s new.” She paused. “When was the last time you had a shower?”

“First of all, that’s completely irrelevant,” he told her. “Second of all, where are your Servants? Where is--” A pause, hopefully too brief to be noticed, though he has little faith it slipped her nosy insight. “--Kyrielight?” 

By the widening of her grin, that slip had been caught. Damn it. 

“Mash and everyone are around!” She reassured him with a laugh. “This isn’t exactly a Lostbelt, remember? It’s just a holiday Singularity. I’m allowed to wander off!” She had the grace to, here, at least look sheepish. “I...maybe should be more careful where I step, though. I’m learning self-defense but those chickens were definitely the nasty, out for blood, peck me to death kind. I mean, though, seriously, where did the evil chickens come from?? The first time I saw them was Luluhawa, though, so probably--”

He groaned. “The origins of the homicidal farm animals are beside the point,” he grumbled. “They could have killed you. And had you fled in the other direction, it would have been right into a nest of chimera. Do you have any spatial awareness at all?” He grimaced. “Really, I’d assumed the Singularity had been dealt with.”

“It has,” she said with a grin. “You should know these things last a few more days after we de-Grail them. Let me have some last ditch summer fun, okay?”

...alright, no, he really was going to throttle her. His hand connected with his face hard. “And nearly getting pecked to death by angry roosters is your idea of summer fun these days?” He asked, voice faintly muffled. “Why did I bother? I should have let you die. It would have served you right. You need to learn that actions have consequences.”

“Why didn’t you~?” She asked, leaning forward. “I mean, you’ve been pretty hands off and all so far.” She paused, looking insufferably smug; she must have picked up the expression from the King of Uruk, ugh. “You care. You caaare about me, don’t you?”

He looked at her with as much disgust and annoyance as he could muster. “I do no such thing,” he said, attempting to sound disdainful, though it only managed to come off as defensive. “You’re all idiots. It--” He huffed. “It would be a damned pathetic end to this if you died being eaten by a chicken in one of these low-risk, inconsequential, ridiculous Singularities. That’s all.”

“Mmmmhm,” she said, disbelieving. “You like us idiots, though.”

“I do not!” He snapped, startled at the fact he’d raised his voice. “You-- tch, I picked the worst time to decide to allow myself a bit of basic decency. I’m leaving.”

She beamed at him, undeterred. “Awww, saving my life is ‘basic decency’, you really do care!”

“...and I will let you get eaten next time,” he told her flatly. “See if I don’t.”

He spun on a heel to depart, already casting the spell that would take him outside the Singularity -- he had places to be, after all, there were still two Lostbelts remaining -- and still he heard her behind him.

“You mean like the time with Sheba and the leopard?” She asked sweetly, and his breath hitched in surprise before he could catch it. “She told me about that one a while back.”

Well. He had nothing to say to that, save to finish his spell and leave. Damn it all, that woman was impossible. Absolutely impossible.

...why did he always end up fond of the impossible ones? That man had no explanation to give, either, and in all his wisdom, that was one of the few questions that remained unanswered...one of the riddles he couldn’t solve, so to speak. If he had to be sentimental about it. 

Tch. That man had left him more sentimental than he once was. He knew that. And still, it blindsided him at the worst moments. He had a duty to carry out now, again, and his messy, human sentiment would just get in the way. And yet...and yet, her laughter and her smile still lingered in the back of his head, as it always did.

(Perhaps one day, she would be the one to welcome him home-- no. A foolish notion, yet more unnecessary sentimentalism. He had no more wishes left, after all.)

[teecupangel]

There's this manga called Brutal: Confession of a homicide investigator and when I finished it all I thought was, "Desmond in MC's place would be pretty funny especially with his bleeds lol" because with the crap Desmond went through, I feel like he should de-stress some of it in.... different ways

The manga is really brutal with some triggering stuff so it's ok if you don't do this

Nonnnnyy, I’ve been waiting for a continuation and hoping that the author gets better since last year TTATT

For those unfamiliar with the manga, Brutal: Confession of a Homicide Investigator or Brutal: Satsujin Keisatsukan no Kokuhaku is kinda like Dexter (the tv show) except the main character is much, much more unhinged, loves the look of despair of his asshole victims and goes all out to making their death karmic and ironic.

Also… he does pottery (badly), his favorite movie is The Exorcist and it’s implied his first love was a man who died before he could kill him XD

It’s super dark and the manga does not shy away from all the gory details and dark themes (when I say the MC’s victims are assholes, it’s an understatement). Seriously, there’s a lot of triggering stuff in this manga that each chapter usually have a warning label. It’s also short with only 19 chapters due to the author’s poor health so… if you wanna try it out, it won’t take too much of your time.

.

Anyway!

I feel like Desmond wouldn’t do what Dan does to his ‘victims’, mostly because the Brotherhood stresses to respect everyone, even the people they kill. The Hidden Blade is meant to deliver swift deaths, prolonging the death of the target as some sort of punishment would be against that ‘tradition’.

Although, to be fair, if we set this up as Desmond having lost a bit (or most) of his sanity after the Solar Flare, it would work.

Or…

This would be a Desmond who joined the police force after leaving the Farm. It’s highly unlikely since Abstergo would be all over him once he delivers the necessary paperwork and the results of his medical checkups but maybe he gets a lucky break, maybe Erudito is actively helping him by changing all of his information before it could get to Abstergo…

Maybe someone in the Calculations is ensuring he stays away from Abstergo’s radar. Weird computer glitches, strangely timed bad luck, accidents leading to data corruption… No one would think that someone is behind it unless they believe that that someone would be a ‘higher being’.

In this scenario, Desmond would see the worst of mankind and how the world as it is right now let some of these monsters get away. Desmond would use both the skills and techniques he learned from his profession and his childhood training in punishing these monsters the way they deserve to be punished.

In either scenario (Desmond becoming unhinged after the Solar Flare or Homicide Investigator!Desmond), Desmond wouldn’t care if they were Templars or not. As long as they have done something ‘bad’ and got away with it, they become his targets. 

But he’d still wear a hood and a mask to hide his identity.

So when Abstergo ‘finds’ footage of him, they assume he’s an Assassin out for revenge and they wouldn’t think that the other non-Templar/Abstergo related disappearance are related until it’s too late.

The Assassins would think he’s a rogue Assassin, most probably a survivor of the Great Purge that has cut all ties with everyone. They don’t necessarily agree with his ‘methods’ but they let him do as he pleases because (1) they have no idea who he is or even how to predict his movements (2) he’s only targeting horrible people so it’s not technically against the Creed, and (3) they need all the help they can get.

(It would be funny if Desmond’s fake identity’s first name is Dexter. I mean… I’d probably go for Derek as usual if I was to write this (big IF) but giving him Dexter as a fake name would be funny)

.

.

.

Hey, nonny.

You know what would be funny?

If Desmond goes to Japan after the Solar Flare to sorta-chill, sorta-relax, sorta-have a vacation and he just starts becoming some sort of vigilante during his time there. And Dan… falls in love with him. Both as the vigilante and as the nice foreigner working as a barista in the cafe near the police station or something. Just imagine a fusion of cafe au and serial killer au with a heavy topping of yandere from Dan and ‘I have really bad choices in love interests and I know it’ from Desmond XD

[evanhuang14777]

&lt;Cantar del Mío Cid>

My Cid Rodrigo Díaz you will hear what he said to him: Eat, count, of this bread; drink, count, of this wine, / for if you do what I say, you will no longer be a captive.

&lt;El Lazarillo de Tormes> by Lázaro de Tormes

[The blind man] washed the breaks he had made with the pieces of the jar with wine, and, smiling, said: / –What do you think of Lazarus? What made you sick heals you and gives you health – and other gifts that were not to my taste.

&lt;La Galatea> by Cervantes

Who is that powerful one who is known and famous from the East to the West ? Sometimes strong and brave, Other times weak and fearful; He removes and restores health, Shows and covers virtue in many, more than once, He is stronger in old age Than in joyful youth. [...] without weapons he defeats the armed one and it is inevitable that he defeats him and the one who has treated him the most, showing shame, is the most shameless. and it is a thing of wonder That, in the field and in the town, A captain of such a test, Any man dares Even if he loses in the fight.

<warning by Juan Ruiz>

«You can smell the fire, which is a very bad smell,

your mouth smells very bad, there is nothing that is worth it,

it burns the assaduras, the leg burns;

If you want to love, owner, the wine does not bother you.

«The drunken monkeys grow old, they

do not walk in their color, they dry out and turn gray,

they do many vile things, everyone hates them;

They miss God a lot and they fail the world.

«When wine is stronger than brains,

the drunks are gnawed like pigs and rooks;

therefore come deaths, strife and shuffles;

Much wine is good in vats and jars.

«Wine is very good in its very nature,

it has many benefits if taken in moderation;

He who drinks too much of it, take away his sanity,

all the evil in the world becomes all madness.

&lt;Tragicomedy of Calisto and Melibea>

“Settle down, my children, there is plenty of room for everyone, thank God. They gave us so much of paradise when we go there. Put yourselves in order, each one has his own place; I, who am alone, will fit this jug and cup, which is no more my life than what I speak of.

After I got older, I don't know a better job at the table than pouring, because whoever tries honey always gets stuck with it. Well, at night, in winter, there is no such bed heater. With two jugs of these that I drink, when I want to go to bed, I don't feel cold all night. I cover all my clothes with this when Christmas comes; This warms my blood; This sustains me continuously in a being; This makes me always happy; This keeps me cool; I see plenty of this at home, that I will never fear the bad year, that a crust of mousy bread is enough for three days. This removes sadness from the heart more than gold or coral; This gives effort to the young man and strength to the old man; puts color to the colorless; courage to the coward; to the lazy diligence; comforts the brains; takes the cold out of the stomach; removes the stench of longing; it makes the cold powerful; makes one suffer the toils of farming; He makes the tired reapers sweat all bad water; heals the redness and the molars; sustains without stink in the sea, which water does not do.

I would tell you more properties about it that you all have hair. So I don't know who doesn't enjoy mentioning it. It has only one blemish, that what is good is worth a lot and what is bad is harmful. So, what heals the liver, makes the stock market sick. But even with my fatigue I look for the best for the little I drink, only a dozen times at each meal. "They won't let me go from there unless I'm invited like now."

&lt;Don Quixote>Cervantes

Wine is mentioned up to 43 times in Don Quixote (1615), the most universal work of our literature. There are few characters more enthusiastic about wine in all of universal literature than the famous squire Sancho Panza, whom Miguel de Cervantes profiled not only as a great fan of wine but also as the possessor of a complete gift in the knowledge of it. “Won't it be good, Mr. Squire, if I have such a great and natural instinct when it comes to knowing wines that, when I try to smell any of them, I guess the country, the lineage, the flavor, and the hardness and twists it has to take.” , with all the circumstances that affect the wine”, Sancho comes to consider.

Another example, when Don Quixote charges against the windmills while Sancho walked "very slowly on his donkey, and from time to time he raised his boot with such pleasure that the most gifted still life artist in Malaga could envy him."

<coplero Alonso de Toro>

In Villalar and Pedrosa,

Bozales and San Román,

wine is no longer worth anything,

they give it almost for nothing;

Well, in Toro, where you were born,

I found, in the buns of the milestone,

a blessed red wine,

which in your life you dress like this.

In the city of Zamora,

on Valvorraz Street,

Blessed Our Lady,

there are so many taverns!

In Casaseca de Chanas

and Casaseca de Campián,

they give us so much wine

that we sing more than frogs.

In Corrales and Perdigón,

and in Fuen del Carnero,

even if the poor man carries a hide,

he will fill it without delay;

In Venialbo and at Fuente

Cantalapiedra and Cantalpino,

the people are very happy

because they drank a lot of wine.

Villarino and La Ribera

and the town of Fermosel,

a lot of wine, in a great way,

and softer than honey.

&lt;'Anna Karenina'> by Leo Tolstoy

Kitty, observes Anna Karenina's first meeting with the man who would later become her lover. Tolstoy relates what the Russian princess Kitty saw at that meeting: He could see that Anna was intoxicated with the wine of ecstasy that she inspired. She knew that feeling, she knew its signs, and she saw them all in Anna—she saw the trembling, bright light in her eyes, the smile of happiness and excitement that involuntarily forms her lips, and the unmistakable elegance, security, and softness of her movements— .

&lt;'Paris was a Party'> by Ernest Hemingway

The novel includes several memoirs by the author of the time he spent in Paris with other well-known American writers who lived there, where they met in cafes and bars to chat. At that time in Europe we considered wine something as normal and healthy as food, as well as a drink capable of bringing you happiness, well-being and pleasure. Drinking wine was not snobbery or a sign of sophistication or culture; It was something as natural as feeding and, for me, as necessary as that. It wouldn't have occurred to me to sit down to eat something without drinking, be it wine, cider or beer. I loved all wines, except sweet wines or those that were very heavy.

[wandaluvstacos]

THE ONLY SECONDS THAT MATTER

CHAPTER FOUR IS UP!

Genre: Contemporary Romance Rating: 18+

Includes: Extensive horse nerdery + cowboys, mxm romance (1 trans + 1 cis), some discussion child abuse, some instances of trans/homophobia (it is rural Oklahoma, y'all), depression, occasional sex scene (but it’s a slow burn for sure)

Victor Ortiz-Bennett had some reservations about moving to Oklahoma, but his late aunt willed him a 70-acre horse farm, and he decides to fulfill his dream of running and operating his own training facility. Victor’s been around the reining horse show circuit for a while, and he’s ready to settle down, travel less, and spend more time with the horses he loves and away from the people he can do without. That is, until he picks up a horse at an auction with a bucking problem he can’t fix, and he has to take her to the one guy who can ride anything– Johnny Stearns, a retired professional rodeo rider.

Johnny Stearns is loud, chatty, eccentric, and fears nothing, exactly Victor’s opposite. However, Victor finds himself sinking into an odd friendship with this new foul-mouthed cowboy without a filter, diving deeper into the mess that is Johnny’s life until there’s no way to extract himself from it. Johnny may talk a tough game, but there’s more to him than he’ll let most people see. Victor knows getting in too deep will mean a rough ride, but if there’s anything Johnny’s taught him, it’s how to stay in the saddle.

Excerpt:

“Whose hat is that?” Johnny asked, pointing to the sombrero de charro that Victor had hung up as one of the few decorations he’d added to the place since his aunt’s death.

“My dad’s.”

“Cool hat. Your daddy really wear it?”

“Sure. He’d used to wear that to charreadas back when I was a kid.”

“What’s a char… whatever it is you said?”

“It’s like a traditional Mexican rodeo.”

“So your daddy was a cowboy?”

“Back when he was young, sure. My mother was hired to work at a Mormon family’s stable at a ranch down in Mexico back in the day, and that’s how they met. When he got a bit older and more sensitive he didn’t do rodeo much, but he still rode and trained horses, along with my mother. I get it from both sides.”

“And your aunt owned this place.”

“Yes, it’s in the blood. The only one in my immediate family who’s not involved is my brother, who’s a booking agent for musicians in LA.”

“Y’all disown him for that?”

Victor chuckled. “Not quite, but I don’t think he’d notice even if we did.” Victor and his brother Oscar didn’t talk all that much, on account of being very different people with vastly divergent interests. The only times Oscar called Victor was when he needed money, which was more often than Victor would have liked. Oscar had always been the “difficult one”; even their father had been willing to admit that. “My parents desperately tried to get my brother involved with the family business but horses scared him. He was into music instead.”

“Well, kids are gonna be the way they’re gonna be. I was kinda hopin’ Taylor’d be into somethin’ like science or computers—might give her a leg up in society. Instead she’s like her uncle and her granddaddy, so I already know she’s in for trouble.”

“There are worst things than an interest in horses.”

“She’s still got time to discover drugs.”

Victor laughed. “Let’s hope not.”

[pyroclaststan]

CW: This is the softest shit I’ve ever written

You’d asked Kingsley to come over and do your hair as a joke [mostly]. You knew they were hesitant to be in your space on the best of days, and almost always avoidant of any kind of touch or personal interactions on any given day. It was made very clear very early on in your friendship how high Chrysanta’s walls are but it’s always made you try harder, tease more, push often—never too much.

Not out of disrespect for their boundaries, but because it was also made very clear early on in your friendship that they had no friends, and if there was one thing you could say Kingsley needed in this world it’s friends. Maybe also someone to pry the stick up their ass loose, too, but even your hero self can’t work miracles.

And here they are: ringing your doorbell, hood up over that ratty cap you’re dying to throw away, feet shuffling, and a bag over their shoulder. Maybe the look on your face as you opened the door shouldn’t have been such a cross between excited and shocked, because they flinch immediately upon seeing you stand in the doorway, arms held wide.

“Do you want me to w-wait until you get dressed to come back?” they ask, looking pointedly away towards the bottom of the stairs for someone tailing them.

A mental note to figure out what’s up with the ‘who’ of that situation one day, but for now you take a look down at yourself. Gym shorts and a tank top: who knew they were such a prude? You that’s who, but only when they are outside of their uniform and around you it seems. That’s why you chose to ditch the sweatshirt you’d had on before answering the door… and it’s also the height of summer in this godforsaken city.

“What do you mean?” you cross your arms and tilt your head, playing innocent, making sure your braid falls over your shoulder. “I’m in my own home, firstly, and secondly: I am clothed. Not all of us need to be covered head-to-toe with eighty layers in this heat.”

They shuffle again, and you know the hand that isn’t holding the strap of their duffle bag is in their jacket’s pocket doing their tell: the clenching and unclenching of long, strong hands; vascular and calloused, often bloodied or bruised at the knuckles but still beautiful in their rough way. You squeeze your eyes to cut that random thought right there, disguising it as a reaction to the intense orange-toned daylight bleeding into your cool apartment.

“Chrysantamum, get the hell inside: looking at you is making me overheat,” you chide playfully, pulling them in by the strap of their bag and catching them off-guard, so much so they half-stumble through your front door, ducking lower than even they need to.

Jodidamente gigante…

Pink cheeks are quickly hidden as they reach up to pull their hat down lower, head bent in attempted irritation. Closing the door and setting the lock as they walk past, you watch as their back hunches so much that it makes you worry about their spinal health, and not for the first time.

“Jules, you can, uh, you can just say ‘come in’ like a normal person,” they huff, removing their bag from their shoulder but keeping it in hand.

“I could, but when have you ever accepted an invitation of mine?” The gaze you direct at them is cutting: visual representation of all the times you’ve extended your courtesy and company only for them to shut you down, cold and completely.

And speaking of cold, is that a bead of sweat on King’s face? You figured they were immune to the heat: they’ve never been about anything but dark colours and multiple layers.

Maldito lagarto gigante. You know, you didn’t curse nearly as much before you two became friends. Not as creatively either.

“That’s… fair,” their shoulders sag, defeated by their own admission and unaware of their agreement to your internal insult. You win two in one. “I should’ve expected you to get h-handsy anyway. You’re tactile.”

“I’m tactile? How many times are you gonna squeeze that hand of yours?”

They freeze at your smug face, hand immediately retreating from their pocket and down to their side like they’ve been caught red-handed. Anathema used to keep a tally of how often they did that but the whiteboard turned black.

A small sigh escapes your lips as you step past them to head towards the couch: neutral territory that keeps you from crowding King until they relax. You know the drill by now. “Oh! And you know the rules: no hats on indoors.”

“W-what?” it’s almost a whine. “I always wear a hat when I’m with you guys.”

“That’s at HQ—this is a home, Sidestep, it’s basic etiquette. Were you raised in a barn?”

“On a farm,” they murmur, giving in to your request. They’re a little bit of a shit from time to time, but they’ve always been respectful of basic manners in private—raised right by someone at some point, you suppose. You’ve always noticed how well they set a table, pull out a chair, take a coat. Classic manners instilled young, that much you can tell.

There’s a coat hook that you put up on the wall recently—for them—and after setting their bag by their feet, their top two jackets adorn it. A bomber and an all-weather? They had to be boiling walking out there. That ratty cap is pulled off and placed over them, too, so you watch as they take down their thick curly-coily hair, swiftly collecting strays back into the bun to no avail. Fidgeting begins once they’re done and realise there’s nothing to thread their hair through, unused to being uncovered.

“How do you not melt out there?” you ask in disbelief, fanning yourself dramatically. “Can you seriously not just put on a single t-shirt, like a regular person?”

“I like the weight.” It’s a short tone that tells you that string of questioning is closed, and instead their focus goes to taking off their shoes and setting them down neatly below their jackets, heels against the wall as a sign they’re staying.

Deliberate motions, unsure emotions.

“Sure, okay.” Leaning far to your left you pat the seat of the couch three times, signalling them to sit their ass down which they do slowly, taking their bag back into their hands.

It settles into their lap as you sit back and watch them: eyes running all over—casing for exits—and hands fidgeting nervously. Inviting them over always feels like entering a kennel pen with the way you have to sit back and wait for them to settle into your space with you, but you’re used to it. It’s kind of endearing, really… in some kind of vigilant way you can’t quite explain. Or at least, it’s become endearing. Traitorous eyes once again find themselves settled on Kingsley’s hands.

“What do you want?”

You startle, face flushing at the thought that they caught you staring and got annoyed, but when you look up they’re still staring straight ahead. This is an opportunity to take in their profile, always having been drawn to their sharp jaw and the pronounced line of their cheekbone since they’ve been unmasked—tracking the cloud of freckles on their skin and some faint scars here and there. Counting the numerous ball hoop earrings that cover the entire edge of their ear, you’re reminded of your old therapy tricks, the calm helping as you quickly gather your composure. Keeps you cool and sane while they become a ball of unrest.

Five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, one you can taste—or whatever combination works best for your surroundings. It’s been a long time since you’ve needed that trick.

Realisation hits that they’re still expecting a response.

“What are my options?” you tease in a soft flirty tone you can’t fight; teasing them is just so second nature nowadays.

King sits a little straighter as they pick up your double meaning, then cover their face by leaning forward into their propped-up palm as if bored—fooling no one in the room. You know they’re anything but bored by how their fingers tap, and soon the leg starts bouncing just as you knew it would.

“That’s up to you th-this time. Just don’t pick anything that’ll have your PR team suing me or breathing down my neck. Remember when, uh, when you dyed it blue?”

“It was temporary!”

“And they still freaked.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you concede with a pout. Not as much freedom as you’d like has came of your stint in the Rangers so far. Sure, you can walk, you can fight, you can muck around to your heart’s content, but you’re still on a leash. One that you’ll be expected to pay off. “I don’t know—I didn’t really plan on you actually showing up.”

A quick frown in your direction. “Gracias por el voto de confianza, polla.”

Okay, geez, so you both rubbed off on each other.

“No offence!” you put your hands up as a gesture of peace. “You just don’t like coming around.”

“I’m not used to coming around,” Kingsley corrects, looking at you, “I like coming around...”

As they trail off your heart leaps at that; your stomach flips, you’re about to respond when—

“…you’ve got A/C” they finish, turning their head, smiling that dammed crooked smile at their own joke.

There’s a quiet huff from you that mimics theirs as your ego deflates a little. That was a jab in true Sidestep fashion, sure, but you can’t help but feel a little… disappointed.

Sidestep—Kingsley, King, Chrysantamum—is looking at you expectantly now. “Well?”

“Dealer’s choice,” you get up, looking anywhere else as you pace. Can’t stand sitting this still this long much less with their gaze on you.

The sound of them lifting off the couch quickly stops you in your tracks.

“What? Y-you’re just gonna let someone do whatever they want to your hair?”

“Not ‘someone,’ you—I’m letting you do whatever you want to it. It’s just hair.”

“It’s not just hair!” they exclaim walking fiercely up the edge of your personal space, surprising both of you. They take a long step back, a pause of quiet as they collect themself and stand straight, making them taller. “Hair is… it’s personal. It’s…” a look of discomfort as they trial off, “intimate.”

You didn’t expect this: for them to get some up-in-arms about hair of all things. Looking at theirs, for the first time you start to think about all the work that goes into those long curls. The care, the maintenance, the time. Cultural and personal significance as well, you assume.

You smile with a softness that melts through you, “That’s why I asked you to do it.”

The look that passes over their face is the closest thing to affection you’ve ever seen. There is sorrow in their brow, but the tiny smile on their lips and the way they hold eye contact with you says… everything. Then it’s gone as quick as it came, eyes averted, hands pulling at the sleeves of their hoodie, their feet shuffling. Those tiny little things that they consist of, live by, exist with. It is always about the little things with them: it occurs to you that this may be a big thing. Maybe they need more time to—

“Alright,” a cracking voice cuts you off before you can ask the question that was still building, “grab a dining room chair, a tall one, and meet me in the kitchen.”

Kingsley’s already moving, mechanically yet fluid in the way they walk over, picking their bag, and navigate around and past you as you’re walking in their path. Nervous muscle and hyper focus—so like them it makes you smile. You diverge by the dining room, heading over to pick up a chair as directed, confused as to why you’re taking it to the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t we be in the living room or bathroom?”

“Living room has nothing we need, bathroom’s too small—I uh, take up most of the space as is.”

You avoid imagining the two of you crammed into that private space.

Looking at them again as you approach, you watch the way they deftly unpack: eyes locked on the contents, right hand grabbing items and tossing them to the left without a single shift in their line of sight. Thinking. These little pieces of themself that Kingsley leaves around your apartment always make it hard to resist inviting them.

It’s too much, too fast for them, sure. But there is something about Chrysanta’s presence in your home compared to anywhere else. It is quiet—it always is despite their size—but it is rooted, in a way they never are to any thing or place or moment. Their steps are slower, their movements more eased, the calm they feel reflected in how little they stutter or panic because they can’t feel you in their confusing telepathic way.

“Where should I set the chair?” you ask softly.

“At the sink.” Not bothering to look at you to respond.

As soon as you set it down, facing the sink, Kingsley’s hand reaches out and turns it around.

“One more, please,” absently said as they set up all of whatever it is they’ve brought, set to boiling water, and wash their hands at the sink.

You muse on how they’ve always reminded you of a surgeon, the way they wash up or are exacting in their ministrations. Absentmindedly, you ponder if they’d have made a good med student, leading you to wonder if they’d ever had plans of what they wanted to grow up to be when they were young—outside of a vigilante. You nearly bump into them with the chair during your daydream before their hand quickly snakes out to catch you by the shoulder.

“This one is for me later, we can leave it over here.”

As swift as they stopped you, the chair is out of your hands, and you realise you’ve never seen Kingsley so… in charge. The way they move through this small space like it’s their own world in yours.

In charge of Charge, you chuckle to yourself at such a dumb joke. Sounds like a tag line to one of those adult movies they make about the two of you. They spare a glance your way.

“Alright, I’m just gonna g-grab some towels. Go ahead and sit.”

“Yes, sir, Marshal, sir,” you call out cheekily as they walk out, following orders with a small laugh.

There is a small well of feelings that has been bubbling in your stomach and you’re not quite sure what to call them. ‘Sir’ sent a small ping of questioning to the back of your mind. The two of you never quite discussed what kind of words Kingsley likes being directed at them. Masculine or feminine, in the way words are gendered. They’ve told you they’re not a woman, but they’ve also expressed that they’re not a man either, or maybe they’re both—it’s new to you, in the sense that you’re not sure where you stand without pre-conceived societal notions as a guideline between the two of you.

Would they like to be called handsome? Or beautiful? Is there something else that fits? Would attractive be a safe word to use? Does anyone compliment them? Should you do it more?

You shake your head, focusing on undoing your braid instead, settling your face back to a small smile as soon as they walk back in. They move the saucepan of hot water off the burner, setting a jar of oil in the centre, then busy themself with a small box they pulled from their bag.

“Shall we?” they ask, looking at you as they put on a pair of tight black nitrile gloves.

“Is this an examination?” you joke nervously, pointing at their hands.

There’s a cringe when you think of your last mod check-up, invasive and impersonal. Your brain can’t help but carry on, thinking of hospitals and your various stays in them. You don’t like them as is, but Kingsley’s proximity to you has made you even more wary of them; the panic they show when you bring up medical attention sometimes is sobering.

“No? I mean… uh, I’m not calling you dirty, but I don’t know how clean your hair is, and you d-don’t know how clean my hands are.”

The look on your face must have been either offence or murder because they take a step back, hands up.

“It’s a health precaution! I’m just being careful,” they croak.

“I wash my hair!” Your tone is indignant.

“I know! I’m just being safe!”

“I feel like I’m going in for a pap sm—“

“Alright alright!” they yell to cut you off, face red up to the ears at your unfinished sentence. “I’ll take them off as soon as I’m done washing your hair.”

“Thank you,” you give their hands one last nervous glance, only eased by the thought of how attractive the gloves makes them look. You sincerely hope the sudden mortification at that is not showing on your face, but they’re already turning their back to you.

“Wait, Kings,” you interrupt, “take off your hoodie.”

“W-what?” You do not miss the look of absolute panic on their face.

“It’s gonna get soaked handling all my hair,” you clarify.

“And my sh-shirt is gonna get wet if it isn’t on.”

“But your shirt will dry faster.”

“You have a dryer—my sweater can be dried.”

“Well… about that...” your exasperated laugh and a wiggle of fingers from your raised hand tells them all they need to know.

“Julia. How the hell did you break your dryer again? I just fixed it!”

“It wasn’t on purpose this time—there was a static build up!” Your hands slap you in the mouth as soon as the sentence finishes. Your eyes widen as Kingsley’s narrow.

“This time?” their voice is low, their eyes sharp.

“I uh, may have broken it to get you over here for dinner that time…” The half-hearted chuckle you let out is fake even to you.

“Julia.” A stern glare.

“…Kingsley?” Utter avoidance of eye-contact.

“That’s incredibly dangerous, first off. And I’m not a maintenance worker. You don’t pay me for that.”

“I can absorb any electricity that comes my way and I pay you in food,” a quick retort, regaining composure. “And I got you to stop avoiding the simple notion of a meal together as if I were threatening you with a gun.”

There is a specific face they make at that, and for the umpteenth time in your life you wish you knew what it was they were thinking.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever—just sit down and shut up.”

From anyone else that would sound rude, but that’s simply Sidestep’s tone. The impact is also lessened by the movement of them removing their hoodie, leaving behind a loose long-sleeve that briefly reveals a long-sleeved compression shirt tucked in beneath. The upper layer had lifted while they were pulling the hoodie over their leaving the outline of Kingsley’s back muscles and bra lines on show before they fixed it.

Just a friendly look at your friend’s back. Friendly-ly.

Mouth not at all dry.

“So what’s on the menu? What are we doing?” you cough as they position themself in front of you, looming even more than usual now that you’re sitting.

They reach behind your head and your heart skips; they gather all of your hair carefully and lift it with the gentlest touch, moving a hand to guide you to sit all the back by the shoulder.

“Luckily your sink is low enough that I can lean you back for this to work,” they hum, setting your hair into the sink and tilting your head back, “I’m uh, only used to doing my hair texture… I’ve never done someone else’s hair.” They swallow hard, suddenly nervous. “First: shampoo, maybe a deep cleanse. An oil or deep treatment mask, heat treatment to that for thirty minutes. Rinse it out, then moisturise, comb, and braid.”

“You’re gonna give me braids?” you smile up at them, the orange light of outside slipping through your blinds against their skin and yours. They look bronzed in the lighting. “Like yours?”

“Not quite,” they laugh. “Something more l-like French braids or not-quite-cornrows. I don’t think your hair could support the protective styles I do. I don’t… think so at least? My curls are much tighter than yours.”

“You don’t know?” Teasing.

“I’m not a, not a fucking aesthetician or cosmetologist or beautician, Ghoulia. I’m a vigilante—I don’t get paid the big bucks to make people pretty, I’m usually the one fucking ‘em up. For free!” They sigh heavily, pulling at their gloves to make a loud slap noise as they let go to shut you up.

You giggle quietly, only for it to grow louder and your shoulders to start to shake as Kingsley pulls you forward to set a towel around your shoulders, then let’s you fall back into place before they lean over to turn on the water and pull out the sink hose, adjusting your hair once more.

“What are you laughing about?” they ask, looking down at you, smiling softly and holding you by the back of the head with one hand.

“Did you just… did you just call me fucking Ghoulia?” you burst out laughing uncontrollably.

“You literally call me Chrysantamum—that’s not a worse pun?” they ask, spraying the top of your head with water playfully before setting to work rinsing the rest thoroughly.

“I mean… yeah! That’s so much worse!”

The laughter carries on for two more minutes, much to Kingsley’s displeasure—and your abs’.

“Sidestep Spa… you could make good money with this.”

“No,” they cut you off. “Hair is… like I said, I’ve never done someone else’s. Hair is personal. It’s trust.”

You stare silently at them, considering their words. Is this you showing trust? Or them? For you, this had been a joke but… not anymore. You understand now, as their fingers carefully and dextrously work through your hair: you feel the mutual connection, respect and trust. It feels like a ritual; some kind of magic never really touched on by most.

A thoughtful look at Kingsley. You think of the things they share with you, and that seem to mean something to them. Food, space, and hair. Those must be their love languages: how swiftly they make sure you’ve eaten and how careful they are right now. How often they sit with you on rooftops for a sunset and a beer. The light pulls and parts; the way their fingers massaging into your scalp threatens to make you melt into your chair, and the rinsing calms you.

You think, suddenly, to your mother. The days of your youth spent sitting between her knees as she pulled your curls and waves into a neat braid before you ran off to cause a ruckus. Of her styling your hair the ways her mother styled hers. Hair that connected to your culture, your roots, your family. It dawns on you that this is what that must be for King, too—especially having grown up viewed as a woman.

Time flies by while you’re lost to the memories and motions.

Even now, as you sit in the chair with a warm towel wrapped around your head and with the hot oil they prepared working it’s magic, they don’t sit still. Instead their hands are busy with small bowls, a brush, and a fork, mixing things together into a larger bowl.

“Making your hair mask,” they comment absently, feeling your gaze on them. “Fresh ingredients are better. It’ll help repair what your stylist’s constant flat-ironing damaged.”

Pelo malo, you remember unkind neighbours saying to you. You remember your mother yelling at them in turn, before pulling you close on your walk home, petting your hair.

You think of your mother’s hands as they mix with a fork. It takes you back to a different kitchen, to the sounds and smells of pancakes sizzling on the cast iron griddle. The ingredients they mix reminding you more of a meal than a hair product: honey, avocado, yogurt, brown sugar, banana, apple cider vinegar. You don’t even bother to ask how they came across some of those ingredients here in the west, you know they have more tricks than they let on.

Chrysanta’s movement back into place directly in front of you drags you back into the present fully, tracing details of their face in the rarest moment of absolute openness. No shields, no walls, no topics. Just their hands as they carefully unwrap the towel, taking great care not to pull your hair or have anything drip onto you instead of the towel.

As they rinse your hair, once again focused on threading fingers gracefully and massaging your scalp and hair, your eyes close.

You wonder what Kingsley’s life is like, outside of you and the Rangers. What their childhood was like. What their youth was like. What their teen years were like. You’re not even sure how old they are now. You wonder about questions you know you can’t have answers to, because you know they won’t tell you. Questions you think might hurt them if you asked.

More so, you wonder what their family was like. Your eyes open and you wonder if Chrysantamum ever sat in a chair like this, with their mother lovingly washing her daughter’s hair at the kitchen sink like a right of passage. If kind hands cared enough to catch every curl, with kind eyes at her child like they were the sun—the light of her life. If she’d smooth down King’s baby hairs with the same long, swift fingers and small smiles, or brush them down just-so. You think she would have been beautiful: both young Kingsley and her mother. You look at them again, while they’re focused, and wonder if their grandmother is in their features like your’s is in yours.

You think about how Kingsley can’t cook: was she not there to teach them? Was their mother not there either? With their hunger now, you bet they needed to eat so much as a child, and it hurts to ponder if they ever went hungry from the way you see them ration their leftovers.

You close your eyes as they part sections of your hair, cool bare skin on your scalp now, and the occasional rat tail of a comb catching stray hairs. Part, a dab of oil, a clip to hold the section: you can practically hear the steps light up in their head. As careful and precise with hair as they are with machines.

You think maybe they like machines because they don’t muddy the waters with feelings. Feelings—accepting or giving—do not come easy to them. And you have learned by now that what they feel is best determined by their actions, not the words they use as sword and shield against others. You wonder how they feel. Looking up at them does not make it any clearer, but…

They rub the mask between their palms to warm it, and you know somewhere in you this is love. This is as close to love as they know, and that is enough for you.

There may be lingering confusion in your feelings: you have always been attracted to men, and they are not a man—but they are also not a woman. There may be some hesitation to take a step from friendship with someone who means so much to you. But whatever you both have to give, when you’re both ready, will be enough for you.

You can imagine that little girl: too tall and lanky and active for their own good. Bruised knees and scratched arms and torn dresses every time they came back into the house in the evening, like you when you were young. Maybe the two of you would have been good friends back then, too. Maybe the world wouldn’t have gotten to Kingsley so much if you’d been there with them. It’s nothing you can change now: you know better than anyone that the past stays behind where it can only hurt you if you try to go back to it.

They look down at you now, the mask application finished, and survey the soft look in your eyes, the light smile on your face with a mirrored one of their own. You too, see the small traces of confusion flash by, but it melts away. The eye contact held as their bare hand comes up, brushing against your forehead softly as if to move stray strands away you know they’ve collected, then down the side of your cheek as if to catch some oil left behind they never dropped. Excuses for intimacy that does not come naturally to them. And right now that is enough.

“Do you think I should cut my hair?” you ask softly, hoping they see in your eyes how much their opinion truly matters to you. More than anyone’s ever has.

The question brings a sharpness to their brow, eyes still soft and searching.

“Do you want to? If you want to, do it—I’ll help. However I can.” Their face hardens. “Don’t ever let those stylists tell you what you can and can’t do for yourself. Don’t ever let them make you their doll.”

The last sentence is spat like venom; there’s a deep bitterness in those words, in that choice of words, but you know that’s a question you cannot ask.

You reach up and gently pull a curl that freed itself from Kingsley’s bun. You watch it stretch, far longer than it looks, and let it rest again, pushing it from their brow. You wonder what Kingsley looked liked with hair as long as yours, or what they’d look like with it even shorter. You wonder what colour they’ll braid in next, what length of braids, and if anyone ever gets to help them.

Their soft gaze breaks, reaching for the hose one last time to rinse the mask from your head. There is a new kind of quiet blossoming between the two of you as they rinse: a maybe, an almost, a sort of. An electricity even your mods can’t match, a feeling in the pit of your stomach even hunger couldn’t touch.

And when they begin to carefully dry your hair you ponder what it will mean in the future—what it means now. There is a soft tap on your forehead, twice, and you know that means to lift the mask but you’re not the one who wears it, so you turn your gaze upwards instead. Chrysantamum is leaned down, far enough to be close to your face, and their face is soft and their ears are red. That bright green gaze looks to your lips and back to your eyes, the tilt of the head a question, one you know well: may I kiss you? Your question. Just as you know the answer as you smile softly like they do, and lean in for them to catch your lips, always soft and questioning—never wanting to lock you in, never asking for more than you’re willing to give, never staying long. You part slowly, smiling softer than you have all night.

They suddenly knock the towel off your head and flee to the living room cackling, knowing you’ll give chase. Always one step ahead. You don’t disappoint, throwing the towel after them and bolting over to catch them in a kiss as they turn around. Charging in. For just a few minutes more you stay entangled, hands at the back of each other’s necks—another small intimacy with grand connotations.

When the two of you settle back into the living room— King on the couch and you between their knees—you wonder if this will one day become a memory you can fondly look back on. If you will remember the sepia tone streaming in through the window, the feeling of their fingers as they separate your hair—moisturising and combing, and of the soft pulls as they carefully weave braids along your scalp.

“Think PR would be pissed if I p-put a teal ribbon in your braid?” they ask with a surprising cheekiness.

“I’m a hero, not a cheerleader,” you complain with no actual objections. “Put a piece of jewellery or something instead.”

You hear their hands ruffling in their pocket, so you turn to look, curiosity piqued. They remove a few small charms, the kind you’ve seen in their own braids, twists, and locs. Pumping their brows at you cheesily, they put the hair tie in their hand between their teeth, moving to get a better grip on the braid they’re working on.

A few pulls you don’t quite feel later and you hear a little “Ta-da!” as your braid falls over your shoulder. You lift it up to get a better look and you see a charm woven in seamlessly: a small piece of turquoise more teal than blue.

You lean forward a little, drawing your knees to your chin with an arm around them, fiddling with it as the two of you fall into silence. The sensations of their hands on you, and the comfort of your home around them.

Right now, this is more than enough for you.

[blackdiamondwrites127]

Epilogue

The epilogue in the ‘Mending Bridges, Meaningful Bonds’ collection.

Fernando and Isabel go on a beach trip with their children.

Credits:

@spooner7308 for beta reading this and giving me handy writing tips!

Characters:

Isabella I of Castile, Ferdinand II of Aragon, and Juan Trastámara belongs to @weirdbutdecentart

Isabella Trastámara belongs to @lexartsstuff

Juana ‘La Loca’ de Castile belongs to @ellielovesdrawing

Maria Trastámara belongs to yours truly

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

“Do we not have news about the admiral?”

“We do not.”

The royal couple held hands as they strolled around their new palace in Granada. They had recently conquered the beautiful city and have destined it as their new vacation home.

“I predict nothing good if the winter falls on him at sea,” Fernando said.

“Have faith. How hard have you tried to recover Roussillon and Cerdanya. And now you are going to succeed,” Isabel said.

“If God wills it.”

“He shall. And Colon will return. God rewards the perseverant.”

“It is possible. At the moment, at the moment, my troops are waiting at the border in case the Frenchmen backs down,” Fernando said. His wife shook her head.

“No such thing will happen. These are new times for our kingdoms, let us enjoy them,” she said. They stopped at the entrance of a room where their children were.

Juan had little Catalina sitting on his lap. His dog, Bruto, is sleeping by his feet. He was teaching her how to read. Isabella was looking over María's shoulder. Teaching her how to write in cursive. Juana was practicing her musical skills on her brother’s lute.

Smiles came on the parents’ faces.

“Look. We owe this happiness to the peace that has cost us so much to get. It is our first duty to make it last.”

"Found anything?"

"Nope. It's like they never went to the beach at all. Which is weird considering they live close by."

Maria sighs and shuts the old wardrobe closed. Her and Juan had been looking for their parents' swimming outfits for the past twenty minutes now.

"What now?" Juan asked.

"You have some extra swimming trunks right?" Maria asked. Looking over at him.

"Yeah but I don't know if it'll fit padre though," he said. “It’s worth a try than nothing. I’ll go see if Bella has a spare bathing suit that can fit madre,” she said.

“Alright. I’ll go and help Juana with the food.”

The two split up once exiting the master bedroom. Maria goes upstairs and Juan goes to the kitchen where Juana was.

“Any luck finding anything?” Juana asked as her brother joined her to help in preparing food.

“Nothing. Maria suggested we lend them ours though,” Juan said. Taking over in frying the eggs for Juana so she can focus on making sandwiches.

“Will ours even fit them?” she asked. Putting the finished sandwiches in ziplock bags.

“I think padre can fit in one of my swimming trunks and madre can probably fit in one of Bella’s bathing suits,” he said. He placed the fried eggs on a paper towel covered plate to soak up the extra oil.

“That could work. Hopefully they’ll like the trip to the beach,” Juana said. Putting their prepared food into containers before placing them in a large plastic bag.

Juan’s phone rang and he went out back to take it. Maria had come back down, carrying some of their bags with her as well as a mini cooler. Juana raised an eyebrow.

“Since when did we bring a mini cooler?” she asked her younger sister.

“We didn’t because Bella bought this back in Barcelona to contain her cans of Monster,” Maria said, opening the mini cooler to show about a dozen cans in there.

Juana shook her head. “She’s going overboard with this addiction,” she said.

“Which is why I’m getting rid of it,” Maria said. Closing the mini cooler.

Juan comes back inside after taking his call. “Hey guys! Bella just called and...what do you have there?” he asked when he saw what Maria was holding.

“This, querido hermano, is Isabella’s secret mini cooler filled with cans of energy drinks,” Maria answered.

“Um...okay...but Bella just called me and told me that they’re already packing up their wares in the market so we should hurry and get everything in the van,” Juan said.

“Oh right! Let’s get moving!” Maria said.

“I’ll take that!” Their brother took the mini cooler and shuffled off outside.

The three got the things they needed for a beach trip ready in the van and waited on the front porch for Catalina and Isabella to come back with their parents from the village market.

“Juan, what did you do with the mini cooler?” Maria asked her older brother.

“I got rid of it. Threw the cans away and put the mini cooler in the front shed,” Juan said. His sister nods in approval.

“Here they come,” Juana said as he spotted Isabella opening the gate to let the truck. Fernando drives the truck in the property. Catalina, who was sitting at the bed of the truck, jumped off.

“¡Hola! How was the trip to the market?” Maria asked as she, Juana and Juan stood up to greet them.

“It was alright. Everything managed to sell out this time,” Isabel said as she got out of the truck.

“Oh good! Does that mean you don’t have any more chores to do?” Maria asked.

“Yes. We can relax for the rest of the day,” Fernando said. Rounding the truck to put away the table and crates to the shed.

"Great! Hop in the van because we're going to the beach!"

"The beach?" their parents asked. Their children nodded.

"But what about the farm? Who would look after it if we're not here?" Isabel asked.

"No worries! Juana managed to get a favor from her boyfriend and he agreed to watch the farm," Maria said. "Maria! Hernando is not my boyfriend!" Juana exclaimed. A blush on her cheeks.

"But we don't even have anything to wear to the beach," Fernando said.

"I can lend you one of my swimming trunks, padre," Juan offered.

"And Bella has an extra bathing suit that madre can wear," Maria said.

Isabel and Fernando looked at each other.

"Come on! We wanna spend time with you guys at the beach before we head off to the airport tomorrow. Make some memories and all that," Maria urged.

She's right. They'll be heading back to England tomorrow. And although Isabel and Fernando were given their contact information so they could still communicate from afar, their children leaving will still be bittersweet.

"Alright then," their father said. "Let's go to the beach," their mother said.

All five children grinned happily. They piled up in the van, with Catalina driving as usual, and got situated. Juana waited by the gate as the youngest backed the vehicle out of the property. She closed and locked the gate before hopping in the passenger side.

“Everyone ready?” Catalina asked. “Ready!” everyone responded.

With that, they drove off to the beach.

The drive to the beach took roughly about half an hour. Once there, Maria got out to pay their entrance fee and rent a cabin for the day.

"Maria is in charge of our vacation budget," Juana said when their parents wondered why Maria was the only one who got out of the van.

While they waited, Juan was whispering something in Isabella's ear and she briefly looked relieved and freaked out at the same time. Juana raised an eyebrow suspiciously at this as she watched them through the rearview mirror.

Maria soon returned to the van after doing payments.

"I got us cabin seven with the mini bar and karaoke!" she excitedly said.

"A mini bar?" Isabel asked.

"It's a small island counter with a shelf full of alcohol," Juan explains.

"We're going all out today huh?" Isabella asked.

"It's our last day here so might as well go out with a bang," Maria said.

"I won't be having much alcohol since I'm the designated driver," Catalina said as she drives up to their rented cabin and parks the van up front. They got out and Maria unlocked the cabin with the key given to her so they could bring their things inside.

The cabin was small but it had everything they needed for their temporary stay at the beach.

"Let's go get changed!" Juan said after everything was put away for the time being.

Isabel and Fernando were lended their children's spare swimwear and they went to go change into them.

Fernando decided to wear a plain white, sleeveless, shirt to pair with the swimming trunks Juan lended to him.

Isabel, however, felt quite uncomfortable with the one-piece bathing suit she was wearing.

"I feel a bit exposed in this. Are you sure this is how...Infanta María! What in God's name are you wearing!?” she exclaimed upon seeing her daughter wearing a yellow string bikini.

"What? This is my swimsuit," Maria said. Confidently flaunting her 'assets'.

Of course, this is a big 'no-no' to the former Catholic Monarch.

"You're basically wearing undergarments! Cover up or change into something more appropriate!"

"Mamá, this is normal at the beach. Some people wear way less than me on some beaches. Look! Even Bella and Catalina are wearing bikinis too."

Isabel looked when Maria gestured to her sisters and sure enough, the two were wearing bikinis as well.

"¡Mis hijas!" their mother exclaimed.

"It's fine, madre," Isabella reassured.

"But you're all exposed!" Isabel pointed out.

"It's normal on beaches. Trust us," Catalina said.

"Everyone ready?" Juan asked as he came out. Wearing only his swimming trunks.

"Juana's still changing," Catalina said.

"I'm done," Juana said. She was wearing a yellow bikini top and swimming trunks.

"Great! Let's go enjoy the beach!" Maria said.

"I am not going out there like this!" Isabel said.

"Alright, fine. Here. I have a shawl you can use to cover up," she said, rummaging through her bag and handing her mother a shawl.

Isabel gladly took the shawl and wrapped it around her hips. "There. Now we can go," she said.

"Alright! Let's go!"

The family heads out to enjoy the sun, sand and sea.

Catalina brought their beach ball out and played beach volleyball with Juana, Fernando and Juan. Isabella took their mother to the water for a swim. Maria decided to get some tan on while watching her family play around.

"So how do we play this game?" Fernando asked as he stood next to his son, opposite Catalina and Juana.

"It's simple! We just hit the ball when it comes to us and prevent it from landing on our side," Juan explained.

"Alright then. I'll follow your lead."

With that, they started the game with Juana serving the ball.

Meanwhile, Isabel and her namesake were having fun splashing about in the shallow water.

"This is so much fun!" Isabel said.

"I know! The beach is one of the best places to go to during the summer," Isabella said.

"Oh look! I found a shell!" Her mother declared as she picked up a small, pink shell.

"Ooh! Let's collect shells along the shore and maybe we can make them into little souvenirs!" Isabella suggested.

"That's a great idea!"

The two Isabellas then set off to go find sea shells. After the game, Fernando decided to take a break and went to sit next to Maria. As he made his way over, he noticed a group of young men bothering her while she laid on her stomach. The ties of her bikini top undone.

His protective paternal instincts went on high gear as he marched his way to them.

"¡Hola hermosa! Wanna have some fun with us?" one of the young men said.

"No, gracias, chicos. I'm not interested. Now please leave me alone to tan," Maria said dismissively.

"Come on, hermosa. We promise it'll be fun," another one insisted.

Fernando grabbed a discarded shawl and draped it over Maria's back before standing in front of the group of young men. Arms crossed over his chest and glaring at them.

Like the soldier king that he was.

"Papá! I was tanning!" his daughter complains.

"She said she's not interested. Ahora deja a mi hija en paz," he said.

Or rather commanded.

The group scrambled away once they realized that this man was the father of the girl they were trying to flirt with. Maria sits up and fixes her bikini top.

“You didn’t have to scare them off, papá. I was fine,” she said.

“You and I both know that they wouldn’t leave you until you agreed with them,” Fernando said.

“I know. I’m used to getting hit on like that. Especially on a good day but I still stay strong on my answer being ‘no’.”

“Even so, Maria. You should be cautious around strange men. Especially when they're in groups like that.”

Maria sighs and just shrugs. "There goes my tan, I guess," she said. Standing up from her beach towel. Dusting off sand from her lap before wrapping the shawl around her hips. "How are you liking the beach so far?" She asked. Following her father back to the cabin to get something to eat and drink.

"Aside from the encounter with that group earlier, it's been fun so far. Your madre and I really needed this break," Fernando said. Walking alongside his daughter.

They reached the cabin and went inside. Maria got behind the mini bar to fix them some drinks while Fernando looked for something to eat. The others soon joined them when the weather got too hot. They had lunch together and sang karaoke. Maria and Juan fought over who gets to sing the next song while Catalina yells at them to give their parents a turn.

Isabella used this opportunity to go to the kitchenette, sneak a can of Monster from her mini cooler, that Juan did not get rid of, and pour it into her empty glass.

"Bella, where did you get that?" Juana asked. Coming up behind her.

"Gah!" Her oldest sister squeaked in surprise and almost dropped her drink.

She had been caught.

Juana looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow when she saw the mini cooler. "I thought Juan got rid of that cooler," she said.

"Uh...I can explain?"

"Oh please do, querida hermana," Maria said as she came up behind Juana. Arms crossed over her chest and an unamused look on her face. "Please tell us why you have that mini cooler when-" she turns to shout, "-Juan!-" then faces her sister again, "-told us that he got rid of it?" she finished her question with a sinister sweet tone.

Now this was just not fair! Isabella was being ganged up on.

She held her precious mini cooler protectively in her arms as she tried to think of a strategy to escape her sisters that were easily towering over her.

Juan came to her rescue when he snuck up behind his two younger sisters and had the genius idea of covering their eyes from behind.

"Run! Run, Bella, run!" he said. Isabella did just that and booked it out of the kitchenette.

"Bella, come back here!" Maria shouts after her as she escapes her brother's hold. She ran outside after her oldest sister with Juana in tow. Juan went after them to stop them from catching their oldest.

Isabel and Fernando were very freaked out when their four children started to chase each other outside the cabin. Screaming and shouting at each other.

"W-What's going on? Why are they fighting?" Isabel asked. Looking outside through the open door.

"Don't worry. They're fine," Catalina nonchalantly said as she flipped through the songbook. Looking for a song to sing.

"But they're fighting!" Fernando pointed out. Confused as to why his youngest is so nonplussed by her older siblings fighting over a mini cooler.

"As long as no one is drowning the other at sea or burying them alive under the sand then we're all good," she said.

Isabel and Fernando looked at each other in worry.

The chase came to an end with a compromise between the two parties. Isabella would be allowed to keep her energy drinks and mini cooler but with each can, it corresponds to a day where she would not have any Monster whatsoever. That means she'll go twelve days without a Monster once they land in England.

Isabella accepted the compromise, though rather with much hesitation.

The weather became suitable to go back out again and the family got back to doing their activities. Fernando and Isabel got to try out new things that day and building sand castles seemed to be their favorite so far.

"Hey guys! Let's take a photo!" Maria said. Setting up her camera on a tripod.

"A photo?" Isabel asked.

"Yeah! A little souvenir for you guys. Now stand close together in the shot," she instructed as she set up the timer in the camera.

"Photo time!" Juan said and got behind their parents. Wrapping his arms around them and pulling them close together.

Isabella and Juana stood to Isabel's left while Catalina positioned herself on Fernando's right.

"Alright everyone! Smile!" Maria rushed over to Catalina and grabbed her arm in time for the timer to run out and captured the moment.

"Maria! I almost fell!" Catalina exclaimed. Balancing both hers and her sister's weight before they could topple over.

"Let's see how it looked!" Juan said. Going over to the camera to see the photo taken.

The family gathered around to see and the results were pretty good.

"I like how it came out," Fernando said.

"Yeah! Let's have this printed and framed!" Isabella said.

"I think there's a photo printing shop nearby here," Juana said.

"I'll go get this printed later. Now let's get back to having fun!" Maria said.

They agreed and continued on with their day. When the sun was starting to set, they all decided to take their showers and change back into their civilian clothes. They decided, last minute, to have a bonfire jamming session. They rented a guitar and Fernando and Isabella took turns playing it while the others sang to their heart's content.

It was dark out when they packed up their things and took them to the van. The drive back to the farm was quiet as Maria, Isabella, Juan, Fernando and Isabel were all sleeping and Catalina and Juana were the only ones awake.

"So what do you think of this trip?" Catalina asked quietly. Focusing on the road in front.

"As a whole or just these two weeks in general?" Juana asked back.

"As a whole," the youngest answered.

"The first few days in Barcelona were fun. Then things changed when we got to Girona and discovered our parents living in the countryside," the older of the two said.

Catalina nodded in agreement. They initially planned on visiting several beaches near Barcelona and Girona was their first stop. Their plans changed when their van broke down in the middle of the countryside and met their reincarnated parents.

"What about the two weeks? What do you think?" the former queen of England asked.

"It was...a rollercoaster of emotions for sure. The first week was just full of tension and it was almost unbearable. But then the second week slowly got a lot better. At least a little bit. Well, except for the time you punched padre in the face and I had a huge meltdown in front of madre," said the former queen of Castile and Aragon.

"Yes but look how far we've come in just a span of two weeks. Sure it's not entirely fixed yet but it's a start," Catalina said and Juana nodded in agreement.

"It is a start and frankly, I'm glad that our parents made the effort. Having a complete family again is nice."

"Indeed."

.

It was late at night when they had arrived back at the farmhouse. Catalina and Juana woke their parents and siblings up so they could sleep properly on proper beds.

Come morning time, Fernando and Isabel went with their children to Barcelona to see them out to the airport. Tearful goodbyes, tight hugs and promises of a second visit were shared.

The parents watched as their children walked to their gate leading to the plane they will be boarding. Fernando held Isabel close as she cried on his shoulder.

Two weeks of being with their children felt like years and now they're leaving the nest again.

At least now, they have the means and technology to communicate with them from afar.

When they got home that night, they noticed something hung up next to their wedding photo. Upon closer look, the couple couldn't help but smile.

It was the photo they took at the beach yesterday.

Maria had it printed, framed, and had hung it up on the wall before they left that morning. It was a last gift to their parents as thanks for housing them and making the effort to get to know them again.

The photo will forever be a reminder of the family they had gained over the span of two weeks.

And they had a feeling that the family would grow in time.

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Thank you so much for reading this collection! This is possibly the biggest writing project I've ever done and I'm very proud of the result! Again, thank you for the undying support.