#i really do want to at least learn conversational spanish because of how it's sorta kinda needed to navigate life in Utah now

[greaserink]

love that I've taken 3 different language classes accumulating to 7 years of learning and yet I don't remember a single word from each peace 'n love

[ballorawan740]

SCP Scenarios: When their kids swear at them (REQUESTED)

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Requested by: @Astro_KeySimp

WARNING: Swearing (sorta)

Ok so I kinda made the reader into the child since don't remember if you wanted the reader to be a child or not, so if it wasn't to your liking, then I'm sorry, but I can make a separate version on where the reader isn't the child

It kinda became more of the SCPs and doctors being dads than their reaction to their kids swearing

SCP 073 (Cain)

Cain was walking around with you since you were bored and there wasn't anything to do

Being unaware of what some of the staff were saying, ye went over to grab you some food for later in case you got hungry

Once you both went back, he watched you play with some Legos and was talking as if it was your Lego friends talking to you

Cain looked away for just 10 seconds and heard you shout out "Wow! He said that her baby's such a bi-" which shocked him as he heard it

Cain looked around and made sure that nobody was around the room and was somewhat surprised that you was the one saying this

Being a good dad he is, Cain explained to you carefuly that you shouldn't say that word because it's bad

And being a sweet shy child, you obliged and stopped saying the word

Til this day, Cain had no idea about where and who you've heard the word from and is very much more self-aware

SCP 076-2 (Abel)

Abel is that type of dad who would teach you all the bad words and encourages you to say them

It's the researchers who had to teach you top not to say those words

One time, Dr Glass came in to examine you and had rewarded you as usual since you were so cooperative

You drew a picture of you and Abel talking in a garden with bright coloured flowers

Simon asked if he could see your drawing and saw that the conversation you and your dad had was those of swearing

This surprised Simon since you knew so many at such a young age but wasn't totally shocked since he knew that you were Abel's child

And knowing him, he wouldn't teach you to be nice, so Simon took the job as a mother hen and taught you to not use those words around people

SCP 999 (Tickle Monster)

Ok, so I'll keep this SCP short since I, again, don't know what I should write for this adorable, squicky, neon-orange, bubby blob

Another SCP who doesn't cuss

This adorable squishy boi here was about to have a heart attack when he heard you swear fir the first time

He had to ask you worryingly where you heard that phrase and you just said some guy wearing a white jacket

999 sighed knowing that you'll grow and couldn't do anything to stop it

He did, however, mention that you should try and avoid saying those things to anyone and that they'd most likely have a heart attack since you were his child and you won the genetic lottery for being the cutest and outgoing child in the world

The only other person who knew of this was Dr Glass (sucks to be him ngl, he do be a mother to everyone) and he had to help poor 999 with teaching you better words

SCP 682 (Hard to Destroy Reptile)

YAY! Another SCP who would teach their kid to swear

682 has such a dirty mouth like 076 and would 100% teach you all the words he knows

Similarly to what happened with Abel, you were taken for an interview with Dr Sophia Light since she was assigned to you

She's such a sweet and kind doctor to be around and would teach you anything and everything you would probably need to know all the while keeping an eye on you in case you become overly aggressive like 682

You were just eating some sweets Lights had given you for good behaviour and overheard some researchers swear

Remembering what your dad had taught you, you just repeated those curse words while clapping at your achievement

This had shocked Sophia and that researcher since you were known to be a moderately shy and quiet child who normally wouldn't say those things despite being 682's child

Sophia had to ask if you understood the meaning of those words and shook your head as an indicator for no

She had to carefully find her words and told you to never speak of those words again and took you back to 682's cell

You went and hugged your dad and told him that you learnt from the doctor that those curse words were bad and neither of you should say them

682 had a headache after that

SCP 049 (Plague Doctor)

I have a hard time thinking that 049 would teach his child to cuss and would avoid swearing in front of them at all cost

Like, he barely swears anyways but he wants to stay classy and sassy for his innocent child

Just like the other day, his kiddo, you, was curious about the whole surgery thingy he does on the dead bodies, so you asked him to teach you and so he did (like the good father we nevah had)

So you learnt some new, yet difficult, words (cuz we all have a nonexistent pea-sized brain) and somehow, you managed to fit in a curse word

This did surprise 049 as he had remembered that he didn't teach you those foul words

He had to give you a talk about using such words and you teared up since you thought that people used them to express their affection to others

Unsurprisingly, 049 took his sweet time looking for the guy who 'taught' you this and wanted to use him as a case study for your future lessons

SCP 035 (Possessive Mask)

Another parent with such an amazing influence on children

035 would teach and enable you to use swearing as a form of expression

So you were free to say whatever you want as long as they aren't directed to our mask here, especially if it's in a negative way

Otherwise, you'd be punished (No not like that! He'll just ground you from your favourite TV show/movie)

The researchers were surprised, not about you swearing, but how you use them through expression

Except for this poor guy who was new to the foundation and bumped into you by accident

This rookie found himself listening to you cursing like a sailor (maybe not that much but more or less on the same level as Samuel L Jackson)

Word got out and everybody laughed at the poor rookie and told him more about your background and how you love to swear (apparently swearing will prolong your life, so you'll basically be immortal here)

035 was impressed by the whole ordeal and rewarded you with more shows to watch whenever you're both free

SCP 105 (Iris)

Iris would accidentally swear in front of you and whenever she realises it, she would tell you to not swear at people since it wasn't very nice

So she would use words to replace the swearing like "oh fudging hell not now" and "no sugar honey ice tea"

The foundation felt that it was slightly unnecessary but went with it anyways

They'd even go as far as saying that it's ridiculous, but who are they to judge?

Iris was your mother and she's a single mum too, so she felt the need to be overly beating but would occasionally let you decide on your own since you were only 12

The foundation members did tell her that you will eventually grow and more of these words will be used but she just hesitates

As a teen, you did begin to use foul words more often and Iris would argue about how you're using them, especially towards her, your own mother

Needless to say, you both felt bad and made up

SCP 106 (Old Man)

Now this old man right here doesn't exactly speak, or at least very rarely

And if he does, he'll most likely be talking to you or the foundation staff if he needed some help finding you

He'll most likely be able to understand what the researchers are saying, even if they aren't speaking English

My own personal hc is that 106 understands English, German, Spanish, French, Chinese, Arabic and Indonesian and probably many others

Every now and again, somebody would come in and teach you new words and give other lessons like maths and poetry (our favourite)

You came back home to tell him all the things you've learnt as he watched you in awe as he braided your hair

You've even used some new phrases, including swear words while talking and 106 was pretty impressed

I feel that he's quite neutral with swear words since words are words and are used as a form of verbal communication

So I don't think they'll be much change in his behaviour to whether you're swearing or not

SCP 096 (Shy Guy)

Now with 096, all he does is scream

So basically, somebody else would have to teach you some words

It's not to say that 096 is a dumb animalistic creature with no soul and just kills people who look at his face

He isn't stupid since he manages to find anyone who looked at his face from the other side of the globe

And he seems to understand what the researchers are saying, or at least on a more intermediate to moderate level

You'll learn about swear words from the other researchers, whether they'll be teaching it to you intentionally or you've overheard them

The foundation could really care less, but would at least prefer that you chill a bit if you got carried away

096 would act all cheery when you learn more new things as it's not like the foundation would let him out anyway, so he'll be living the outside world life from you (How relatable, but more with babysitting and dating, cuz I'm too pretty for anyone to date XD)

Like with 106, I don't think 096 would have any special reaction towards swearing, but would probably be screaming internally for a bit since he knows that it isn't a nice word

Dr Jack bright

This mf right here is one of those parents who would be kind but firm

Bright would most definitely give in to your curiosity and teach you whatever you want to learn but would warn you of the dangers

Depending on what it is, he would even go as far as giving you your own personal guard who would stay with you and train you

And unfortunately, this guard has such a foul mouth, so you're constantly exposed to such words

Luckily for the both of you, Jack Bright doesn't really care about swearing as long as you're not being extremely inappropriate if you were to work

He would even joke around with you sometimes and would even start the conversation with swearing

For instance, he'd just surprise you with a "Yeet his mf outta my sheithole"

And yes, you did laugh at his antics

Some would even say that you're an exact clone of him but more stable (for now)

Well, Bright is an amazing dad, but I'd say just below Dr Glass

Or maybe even on par with him

Like Bright is a goofy dad that has all the terrible dad jokes and Glass would be the type of dad to look out for his kid

Dr Simon Glass

Dr Glass would most definitely avoid using swear words, especially if you were under 15

Even if you were over 15, he'd still avoid swearing unless he wants to make a joke or 2

So most of the time, you'd learn all the swearing from other people and SCPs

Sometimes you would swear by accident and Glass would just look at you, slightly disappointed

I'd say he doesn't exactly care about you swearing per see, but would rather you avoid it

It's cuz Simon is the best dad a dad could ever dad and nobody could prove me wrong here

He's also one of the top best dads compared to the others on the list

He's basically your best friend so he'd let you vent and its the 1 time he'd let you swear to show your emotions

Simon would 100% know your thoughts and behaviour

He's just that good at reading people, especially you - almost to the point where people would say he's an SCP cuz I swear he's just empathic and telepathic

As mentioned before, Glass would be the type of dad to care for your mental health

It's not that the others don't, it's just that Glass is a top their God of Psychology and would come to you before you even know you have depression

He would even crack a joke sometimes

So every so often, he would shout out "LANGUAGE!!!" from across the room before you could even bat an eye and say anything

Dr Alto Clef

Another top tier dad, but swearing addition

Your godfather would literally be Jack Bright

Then it's Kondraki and Glass

He would let you swear on a daily basis and would join you

Sometimes you be looking at your Oppas/Noonas and be like: "Oh fxxk me!" and Clef, who's in the next room, be like: "Yeah, fxxk me too!" (Yes but no sis! No incest pls!)

Other times, you would be in the same room as Clef and Bright and you'd join them in being chaotic

And poor Kondraki  is just there at the back trying to do his work peacefully

One time, Kondraki had to grab a Simon Glass to help stop the chaotic trio

And OML did it end so well

You were easy to manage tbh, with the exception of you swearing

Clef and Bright would most definitely encourage you to swear more

Especially Clef since he does have a twisted sense of humour

Dr Benjamin Kondraki

Kondraki is totally the type of person who would tell their kid to mind their own language

But he secretly doesn't care and his child knows it

His style of parenting is similar to Simon's

And yes, Simon is your #1 godfather/uncle

You'd go to him for emotional support since Kondraki sucks at that

Sometimes you'd swear at him and he'd get mad though

So yeah, running to Glass is a wonderful idea

And we all know that Kondraki doesn't mean what he said

He's just extremely introverted, but he's rather sensible - Usually...

Anyways, he would ask Simon on tips and advice on how to get you to stop swearing so much and he just gave Benjamin a parenting book (Like fr guys, let Glass have some rest, he's tired of babysitting over 100 dozens of pets in the zoo and all the other babies who work in it)

[greenninjagal-blog]

The Space Between Us

Alien au? Alien au! I have no self control! Please accept this one shot that quickly spiraled into 23 pages of Virgil being a disaster in space. (If you guys enjoy it, let me know because I’m considering making it a series.)

Summary: The cosmos is a Gigantic place and somehow Virgil’s past still catches up to him.

Words: 11400

TW: Human trafficking, Human experimentation, dehumanization, fighting rings, 

Quick taglist: @chelsvans @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection  @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on Ao3 || General Writing Masterlist

“Tell me again why this is absolutely necessary?” Virgil asked, watching Logan’s hands dance across the console. On any other day the sight would be comforting. Every time his digits landed on a key, his nerves glowed with sparks of multicolored light through his transparent crystal skin, creating a beautiful firework show right in front of them all. Logan had told him once it was called Lightdancing, an evolutionary adaptation of the Tenkarie people: their bodies were near invisible in dim light, and they could control the pulses of light just enough to attract other cave dwelling creatures to them before striking the killing blow.

Now, though, the sight made Virgil’s stomach churn. Logan’s lights were a calculated system that he had trained to hone better than most of his race: he could make any part of his body glow at a brightness ranging from a flickering candle light to a flood light, he could make his whole body radiate or he could make just the tip of one of his sixteen fingers, he could even change the color of the light with just a thought. Virgil had always been glad that Logan was the only Tenkarie that dared venture from their caves on L0-G1C; Logan’s kind had perfected the use lights and dancing which made all other creatures become so nauseated they couldn’t fight back or become so mesmerized by the swirling motions that they didn’t see the attacks.

(Of course, because Virgil was rather distinctly human, it took longer for either of the effects of Logan’s fighting to work, which had saved both their lives more than once.)

However, in contrast to the usual focus of Logan’s fingertips on the control panel, lights were flickering all over his body, up and down each of his four arms and burning from the notches around his neck. The lack of control was enough to make Virgil’s stomach churn.

“Because its Remus,” Roman replied, although it didn’t help that he said his brother's name the same way he might have said puppy kicker.

“And we care about Remus because....?” Virgil prompted, running his fingers over his satchel again, checking the latches to make sure they were still there, still closed, still containing the supplies within. “If my memory serves me correctly, Remus was the one that set us up to be ambushed by those space pirates the other week. You know, the ones that nearly killed Patton?”

“We care because, in Erefrenian customs, blood bonds are the most sacred of bonds.” Logan supplied distractedly. “And Remus invoked the Oath of Brothers, which means that if Roman were to ignore his call for aid, Roman’s honor would be forever stained which would prevent him from crossing to the planes of heroes after his death according to the religion of his people.”

“Yeah that,” Roman says, even less excited than Logan at the idea. The bone spikes along his spine had been secreting that red poison that usually only happened when he got annoyed or anxious. Virgil had learned quickly to stay away from him when he was like that: touching it merely made Virgil’s limbs feel pins and needles, but the Orlun thief had screamed until unconsciousness.

It was one of the (very) few perks of being a Deathworlder, Virgil supposed. Most of the things that hurt the other species out here usually had a looser effect on humans because humans rarely made it this far. In fact, it was illegal for humans to get this far by at least sixty doctrines (all of which Logan had filed away in his room). 

Humans were juggernauts-- the alien versions of the boogie man told to children to keep them from acting out. Virgil had seen some of the written documents about his kind, and the tales of bloodshed and terror invoked by merely existing were pretty horrifying. Graphic depictions of humans tearing aliens limb from limb, scientific studies on the amounts of chemicals that humans had absorbed and withstood against, an interview with a survivor of a human rampage who revealed the bite marks left by the so-called beast.

Almost every species out here was just as scared of him as he was of them.

The problem came from the ones that weren’t scared. 

Which, of course, was how Virgil had ended up hundreds of literal light-years from Earth, on a ship with three aliens whom he was pretty certain he would end up dying for sometime very soon. Yurinks were crafty, shameless, bold, creatures, and they were notorious for visiting Earth and abducting humans for individual sale. Weslors ran fighting rings and humans were almost always the safest bets for some quick cash. Quitans were a fan of skinwearing, which was not something that Virgil ever wanted to see, based on the name alone. And Pol’turs loved learning how things worked and paid very handsome prices for human subjects on the space black market.

Virgil, himself, had sold for 300 griot. (Which was apparently a lot, based on the way that Patton’s eyes had quite literally bugged out. Virgil was still trying to figure out the conversation ratio of American dollars to griot and getting nowhere with it.)

“I hate him,” Roman said under his breath as he threaded through the spare armored uniforms in the storage, trying to find one to fit over the rigid bone plates along his back. His tail squirmed behind him as he searched, dragging the spikes through the air. “I hate him so much.” His bone claws cut through the fabric and he growled as he tossed the ruined clothes to the floor. “We’re gonna save him and then I’m going to toss him off into space, myself.”

Logan made an affirming noise, using his lower left arm to nudge his visor back up his nose. Virgil had only caught sight of Logan’s eyes once or twice, as most light strained his sensitive eyes. They had paid a pretty griot for a repair and a spare of his light blocking visor after the first time some space smugglers had surprised them and managed to break the lens. Logan’s pained scream was the worst thing that Virgil had ever heard and he had sworn he’d do anything to avoid ever having to hear it again.

(That had been the first time that Roman and him had truly worked together on something, Virgil noted absently. Between Virgil’s uncharacteristic bloodlust and Roman’s furious wrath they had taken out the smugglers in less than five minutes and they hadn't been very nice about it.)

Looking from the back, Roman resembled a stegosaurus to Virgil. If, like....stegosauruses ran around on two legs, flourished a sword, and were prone to acting like every minor occurrence was a slight against them personally. His red-ish skin had the appearance of leather but was twice as thick, his bone plates were slimmer rounded triangles than Virgil remembered from his kindergarten picture books but they ran from the based of his neck all the way down his back and to the tips of his tail which he liked to use as a spike-ball-and-chain attack along with his ridiculous sword. Virgil couldn’t count the number of times that Roman had nearly taken him out along with the enemy. His claws were only a few inches long but Roman whined like a baby when they broke-- which was ridiculous because his bone plates literally grew back overnight, and the ones on his forearms were made to be taken off and thrown. (Logan had indeed informed Virgil that Erefren grow new bones every moon cycle and proceeded to lose the old ones which Virgil had then mentioned that humans did that too sorta! With their baby teeth! And Roman and Logan had both looked unnerved by that information.)

“I’ve got it!” A voice sang from the ceiling, which was about all the warning Virgil got before a child sized figure vaulted down from the rafters of the teleportation deck right onto his shoulders.

“Jesus! Pat!” Virgil yelled as he stumbled swaying to accommodate the new weight that had stuck itself to Virgil’s back and then wrapped around to hug his chest. “Give a guy a warning, will you?”

Patton giggled, hooking his legs around Virgil’s waist so that he could sit comfortably, swinging the two other satchels he had been sent to fetch from his hands. Roman accepted one of them readily.

“What's a Jeeezus?” Patton asked, stressing the syllables as English terms never really fit right in his tongue. As far as Virgil was aware no species were equipped to speak human languages, although Roman’s Erefren dialect involved some rolling syllables. He probably could have picked up Spanish, if Virgil hadn’t barely passed Spanish III with a C minus. 

To be fair though, that year had been bad. Janus had been in his class, and then he hadn’t. And it was hard to focus on conjugation of verbs when the golden student of the entire school who had sat next to him had been declared dead and Virgil had been the prime suspect of it.

That, and Virgil was pretty terrible at picking up new languages. He had only managed to figure out how to communicate with Logan by luck: hands raised with the fingers spread was a symbol of innocence and fear for the Tenkarie, while a sign of rage and fury for Yurink. This, of course, had also been in the middle of an illegal Weslor fighting ring which Logan had been dragged into and essentially sentenced to die in after being separated from Roman and Patton. 

(Virgil tried not to think too much about those days. Alien blood was still blood and it was very not-good to feel dripping from his hands, even if it was him or them, even if it had been his life on the line, even if it wasn’t another human with heterochromic eyes and smug smirk. Virgil had fought nearly six times before Logan had been his opponent, and that was six times too many.)

Regardless, Virgil was lucky that when Roman and Patton had come for Logan, Logan had remembered his reluctance to fight and insisted that Virgil come with them in an escape. Roman and Patton had their hesitations but Logan wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

(And Virgil who did not understand Common, had honestly thought that Logan had come back to kill him officially. Not a good first impression.) 

Logan had made him flashcards to study from and taught him common in the sitting area of their ship. The endless hours of memorization, the drills, the sentences, all of which helped him more than he thought the others knew. They were something to do with his mind and Virgil had been in desperate need of something to do with his mind those first few months that wasn’t thinking about Earth or home or boys who were dead.

“We could go to Earth,” Logan had offered once during one of their sessions.

Virgil had blinked looking up to from the practice reading he had been studying with a bewildered look. “What?” It had taken a moment for him to realize that he had spoken in English rather than Common, but Logan must have picked up on the meaning of the foreign word anyway.

“You were… badly, ah, stolen,” Logan had said, pointing at the flashcards. “We could give you back.” He had used his lower two arms to mimic the motion of handing something off.

It had been so touching, the way that he had scaled down his speech to match Virgil’s progress, had offered despite Earth being the infamous Deathworld, had been looking at Virgil like he was living being and not just some animal. Virgil had cried.

He should have wanted to go back to Earth, should have wanted to go home, but instead he had begged in his broken, garbled Common for Logan to let him stay in space with them. And Logan had glowed nearly blindingly with purple light, a relief light, a content light, a happy light and promised that he wouldn’t have to go back if he didn’t want to.

Perhaps that had been the day the Virgil had realized he’d die for Logan.

And once Virgil had decided that for Logan it wasn’t hard to decide it for Patton too. The Reytin was just so nice. Even back in those first months when Virgil didn’t know how to talk to them and Patton had been so obviously terrified of him, the alien had made sure that Virgil was eating, that he was sleeping, that he had space when he needed it. Though, Virgil really suspected that their friendship had blossomed so quickly because of Patton's rare Reytin ability to see emotions with his frog-like eyes. Once he realized that Virgil was actually terrified of everything, and it wasn’t just ploy to kill them (or maybe despite that….Virgil hadn’t gotten a straight answer from him), Patton had done his best to befriend him back to good health. 

And Virgil liked being on the ship. He liked his room, which was filled with stupid alien plants he had managed to collect and the weird shapes of the bed. He liked being right down the hall from the kitchen so he could smell when Patton was cooking something, and the way that he could always hear Roman singing in his room. He liked slipping out to the observation deck and just seeing Space the way no other human really had. 

(Its stupid really, that sometimes he forgot it had been three years. Its stupid really, that sometimes he still turned to ask a question of someone who was never going to be there. Its stupid really that he could be so happy and still feel the gaping hole where someone used to be.)

“Oh this is so exciting!” Patton said happily, shaking his hands in the air to show his excitement. “Isn’t this exciting, guys?”

“Exciting isn’t the word I would use,” Virgil said hoisting the smaller creature from around his waist to settle him on the floor carefully.

“More like Vexing! Or perhaps burdensome! Irksome! Problematic!” Roman snarled, finally finding the armor that would fit around his plates and slipping it on. “You know what? Let’s forget it! Remus got himself into this mess and he can get himself out!”

“Now kiddo…” Patton warned, and wow, Virgil sometimes forgot that the alien who was half Virgil's height and twice as lively, was also older than all of them combined. Reytin lifespans were literally off the chart. Patton had been around way back when humans were first declared illegal on this side of the cosmos. “You know that we can’t do that! He invoked the Oath of Brothers so we have to!” 

“We don’t have to do anything,” Roman griped. “Worse case, my soul just becomes eternally damned and I’m shamed by the rest of my race until I die a lonely, lonely death on some distant planet!”

“Must you be so dramatic?” Logan asked.

“You won't die alone!” Patton said, “We’ll be right there with you! Probably even die right next to you as well!”

“No offense Pat,” Roman said glumly, “But that makes me feel like I’m gonna be the cause of your death.”

“It’ll be fun!”

Thankfully before Roman could explain exactly there was nothing fun about making all his friends die, Logan cleared his throat and made his upper two palms glow with a soft blue light. Green and pink bulbs flashed up and down his neck. “I have mapped out the perceived trajectory of the enemy ship so we should be able to beam directly into the hold. However because of possible miscalculations I believe that I should be--”

“--The first to beam aboard as I am the only one who is not affected by the lack of gaseous properties and the extreme temperatures of the expanse of space.” Roman, Patton, and Virgil chorused together. 

“Must you all?” Logan asked, with just enough fondness in his tone for Virgil to know that he wasn’t actually bothered.

“Change up your speech sometime, Teach,” Roman suggested, and then he sighed dropping his head. “You guys are really willing to do this for me? These are mercenaries, you know. If this doesn’t go well they’ll likely sell us for parts.”

Virgil really didn’t need the reminder. Just the thought of once again having his arms restrained, having his clothes striped away, being reduced from a person to a thing used for entertainment, was enough to have Virgil eyeing the door back to the rest of the ship. Even on the off chance that they didn’t try to take him apart to see how he ticked, they would still sell him for griot. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, survive being thrust back into the fighting rings. He’d shake himself apart before they managed to drag him into that dust riddled death trap.

Patton reached up and tugged the edge of Virgil’s under armor tunic, drawing his eyes away from the door and down to his friend. Patton, of course, was smiling, imitating the human action of bearing his teeth (something that Logan had explained was incredibly threatening to all other species and you may want to avoid participating in that activity with Roman in the vicinity, Virgil). 

It was silly things like that that make Virgil hopelessly certain that he would do anything to protect his friends. He didn’t need to worry about being caught and sold off because the others wouldn’t let that happen again, and in turn, he wouldn’t allow them to be taken away either. They were a family, for better or worse.

(He wasn’t going to lose someone again. Not like before. Not without a fight, a trace-- not without Virgil doing every single thing he could to get them back first.)

“We’ll be fine!” Patton told Roman brightly.

“Yeah, cheer up, Princey,” Virgil added, hooking his satchel over his shoulder, “Worse case scenarios are my thing.” He offered out a folded fist, palm up and Roman dutifully knocked his own knuckles against it, as an upside down fistbump (a signal of friendship in Erefrenian). 

Patton let out a chittering and jumped up to knock his own knuckles with them. And Logan’s left forearms flickered pastel pink from the wrist up to his neck and he begrudgingly added his own to the pile.

“Everyone remembers their part of the plan, correct?” Logan asked, letting his two lower arms finish typing a final sequence into the control panel.

Patton sprung in the air, jumping Virgil’s entire height, and shook his palms. “I’ve got the emergency pods and the armory, using Virgil’s thingies to shut down the access to the lower rooms and blocking off escapes as I make my way to the medic bay!” 

“I’ve got the crew quarters to where I’ll use Virgil’s thingies--”

“Can we not call them thingies?” Virgil grumbled. “They’re just EMPs. Barely enough to take out the door locks. And it's likely they won’t do much of anything if this group has an emergency system reboot in case of an electrical surge. It’ll buy us five minutes, max.”

“--Virgil’s thingies,” Roman repeated with his tail rattling in that way that said he took pleasure in Virgil’s annoyance. “To lock as many of the doors as I can, before travelling to the cell blocks to get my brother and his crew and move them to the medic bay where Patton will have the necessary supplies ready incase of injuries.”

“I will take the Bridge,” Logan said, “and act as the major distraction, as Tenkarie are very rare and it is likely that they will have never encountered nor have preemptive measures against my Lightdancing. Once I have control of the bridge I will cut off the communications to other ships in the area and start inputting the redirection course. Once I have the new coordinates I will send them to Virgil for him to implement.”

“I’ve got the engineering deck,” Virgil said, finally, “To make sure they don’t try to blow us all up with the warp core and whatever. Then I’ll redirect the teleporting course and get us home while the rest of you take out the bad guys. Piece of cake.”

Logan’s neck notches glowed red, “There should be no stopping for cake--.”

“Idiom,” Virgil interrupted quickly, “Human saying. Means it should be easy.” 

Logan hummed musically, which sent a vibration of multicolored lights off his shoulders and down under his clothes. “Ah, interesting. This should indeed then be a piece of cake.” He picked up one of the teleportation bracelets from their charging pads and fixed it on his upper right wrist. “I’ve already added in the coordinates to the watches, so merely wait for my signal and press the button.”

Virgil would be lying if he said he didn’t have a little bit of anxiety over their plan. It was pretty slapshot compared to the things that they had put together before, but Remus’s transmission had been shoddy, even after Roman and his combined efforts to clean it up. It was hard to remember that Remus was every bit a ship captain as Roman was with how he had appeared in the picture dressed in ripped and tattered clothes, oozing green poison from his forearm plates, and bleeding profusely from a wound on his forehead. He had been leaning heavily on the communication panel, gritting his teeth through the pain, but his tail had been dancing in the air behind him in the same motions that Roman’s did when he saw a new sword to add to his collection. 

Remus had invoked the Oath of Brothers, spit up blood on the console, and then relayed as much information as he could about the attacking ship. They were lucky, in that way. Most of the Pol’tur ships followed the same base model, which meant that the Bridge was always going to be at the bottom, the engines would be at the top and the engine core center would be between them.

If it was possible Virgil was sure they all would have wanted more time to make a better plan, but they all knew that Pol’turs loved to work quickly. They had already lost three days chasing after the ship, and in that time, Pol’turs could cut apart fifty Reytins like Patton.

They were working mostly on the assumption that the Pol’turs would save Remus for near last, and they were going to be absolutely fucked if they had chosen to chop up the other Erefren first.

In addition, their plan had Virgil avoiding most of the fighting. well, as much as he could while being on an enemy ship. Virgil himself wasn’t sure how he would do in a lot of combat, but they had seen what happened when one of the others were in danger (when Logan’s glasses had broken, when the space pirates had almost shot Patton through both his hearts, when the spikes had been pulled from Roman’s spine by the Quitans before the new ones had grown in--). He could fight, and he could fight well, but the cost was a little bit of Virgil’s sanity and his ability to sleep through the night.

Patton plucked his own teleportation watch from the pad and hooked it on, before offering Virgil his. Well it wasn’t really his, the same way that the red one wasn’t Roman’s and Patton didn’t own the blue one. They were all Logan’s pet projects, but he had tailored them to their favorite colors. It felt a bit like coming home when Virgil clicked the locking mechanism into place and the screen lit up with the digital alien symbols.

“I shall see you all soon,” Logan said matter-of-factly, as if he couldn’t see all the ways that their plan could go wrong. Then with barely more than a breath he clicked the activation button and his form flickered out of existence.

Roman made a nervous noise with the back of his throat, which ended up sounding a bit like the first bars of a Disney song Virgil had forgotten. Virgil gently tapped his tail with the toe of his boot, avoiding the glisten poison spikes. Roman startled just enough to laugh.

“Its funny, you know?” He said, glancing towards Virgil. “A year ago Remus told me he had taken in a Deathworlder, and I thought he was crazy. A Deathworlder? But now that I know you guys I can’t believe I didn’t get my own sooner.”

“Remus has a human on his crew?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, I wonder if you know each other!” Patton added.

Virgil bit back his original comment, and let the weight settle in his stomach. If Remus had a human in his crew there was even more of a chance that Remus was dead, because the Pol’turs had chosen to save the mysterious human for last.

“Earth is a big place,” Virgil said instead. “Like really big. They’d probably be from like Russia or something.”

At the blank stares he got, Virgil tried rewording, “We probably never have met before. Or speak the same language.”

"There's more than one human language?"

Virgil breathed through his nose, warding off a memory of rolling Rs and failed pop quizzes. "Yeah," he said, "Humans can't agree on anything."

Roman thoughtfully crossed his arms, but Patton made a chittering again and bounced, “Oh well! Now you guys are gonna meet! All the way out in space! How cool is that?!”

Virgil hid a smile in his shoulder. Trust the Reytin to find the bright side to everything. 

Roman looked like he had more questions (questions that Virgil wasn't exactly enthusiastic to answer; Earth was a sore topic for him) but mercifully each of their watches let out several musical bars from Patton’s favorite song. The alien shook his palms one last time, beaming at each of them.

“Oh this is gonna be so much fun, guys!” He said right before pressing the activation button and disappearing.

“I’m so going to kill Remus for this,” Roman grumbled, one hand on his sword hilt.

And, really, Virgil agreed with him on that. Tossing Remus into the airlock and ejecting him directly into the void sounded like an excellent plan for when they got back to their ship alive and whole and safe.

“Let’s do this,” Virgil said and jabbed his thumb into the activation button.

***

Predictably, their flimsy plan fell apart within seconds of them appearing on the ship. Starting with, exactly, Virgil did not appear in or near the engineering deck. Instead he had landed approximately two feet above a box in the Cargo hold of the Pol’turian ship, which likely meant he was somewhere left of where he needed to be.

It also meant that the Pol’turs in the Cargo Hold had a grand view of his body blitzing into existence, landing on a crate, and then tumbling off it with a lot of English cursing. It was a mere matter of luck that Virgil was able to roll his body to the side just before the first BZZZTTRRRT of their blasters went off.

(There was an actual name for the guns that most aliens used, and Virgil was pretty sure that it started with a hard K sound but he had never been able to remember it. He stuck to calling them blasters in his head, and hoped somewhere back on Earth George Lucas was proud of himself.)

The Polyfurnish of the crate hissed and sizzled as it took the brunt of the attack meant to vaporize Virgil, and the human hissed another curse as his hands dug through his satchel.

One of the Pol’turs-- the deep purple one although Virgil hadn’t truly been able to catch sight of how many there were-- shouted something in its language. Probably something along the lines of “Stop”, “Surrender”, or “Kill him”. Virgil wasn’t exactly a fan of any of those options.

He had heard them before-- too many times. The hundreds of variations of the terms spat and yelled and cheered down at him, and he scrambled away from the edge of a sword, as he tasted nothing by dust and dirt as he dodged another attempt on his life, as he desperately backed away from an opponent who couldn’t understand that Virgil didn’t want to fight, please, stop, please, I’m sorry, please I don’t want to hurt anyone--

Virgil curled up as another gold blast ricocheted off the top of the crate he was cowering behind. The air was cooler here, he told himself, the air was cooler and the floor was slicker, and he was surrounded by shelves of goods. He was not in a colosseum and he was not in a fighting ring and he was not alone.

He had the others to regroup with and no time to panic over the past here and now. Virgil gritted his teeth, remembering the feel of Roman’s knuckles bumping his, the sight of Logan’s excited lights, the sound of Patton’s laughter, and then his hand wrapped around the homemade smoke bombs in his satchel.

He yanked the pins from their sockets, wound back, and launched them over the crate into the mass of where all the shooting was coming from. Almost immediately the shoots veered off course, and the cavernous room echoed with high pitched screams. Virgil ripped his turtleneck up and over his nose and then he grabbed the edges of the nearest shelf and hoisted himself to a higher area, out of the range of the low hanging gas.

It was a pale red, near pink thing: a concoction formed by Logan out of Roman’s poison that had taken them literal years to perfect. Virgil was mostly immune to it, the same way he was mostly immune to most poisons that horrified the other species. Inhaling it made his head dizzy and his limbs a little numb, which was just unpleasant enough that he tried to avoid inhaling anything when he had the chance. Other species though...they weren’t so lucky. According to Logan, inhaling it allowed it directly into the bloodstream where it would swiftly ignite all the pain sensors in the body and could make one feel like they were being stabbed everywhere at once.

(He knew this, Logan admitted, because it had taken him many times to get it right. His scientific journals recorded experiments #1 through #357 as “unpleasant” and “ill-advised” and Virgil had nearly throttled him when he discovered that Logan had used himself as a test subject.)

Using the shelves he boosted himself another level until his head was parallel with a box of what he thought were floating Welsor hearts, before he scanned the ground under him. There were three Pol’turs on the ground writhing in pain, blasters discarded, and pale smoke floating ominous above them. Their usually languid tentacles flopped up and down on the floor like a bunch of fish out of water.

The glass container next to his hip exploded, missing him by mere millimeters. Virgil cursed as he scrambled up another level, eyes darting around to find where the hell that shot came from. His armor took much of the hit but it was sizzling with heat in a way that was decidedly not-comforting. 

“Up there!” Something shouted.

Another blast missed his ear and a container of Sblorp fangs shattered and sent the teeth spilling to the floor. Virgil kicked his feet through the lower shelf pushing through a crate and a dozen jars of various indeterminable body parts and squeezed his body in the place of them. The crashes on the next isle were rather satisfying.

He ripped the pin from another smoke bomb with his teeth, and felt his tongue buzz slightly as the proximity to the toxin before he launched it out at the direction of the other shooter. There was another scream and Virgil took the time to roll into the next isle and leap back down to the floor. 

The gas still hadn’t cleared around the original three Pol’turs, but they had gone unconscious from the pain, with a few seizing tentacles here and there. Virgil would feel bad about it, really he would, but the last time he had been in a room of Pol’turs they had been discussing how nicely his skull would look in the centerpieces of their tables and tried to buy him for 270 griot.

 His skin tingled the same way he thought it might right before he would get struck by lightning back on Earth. Virgil ignored the feeling in honor of sliding across the polished flooring to the nearest fallen mercenary and hoisting it up as a shield, while he grabbed its blaster from the floor. 

Two blaster shots sunk into his Pol’tur shield and it dissolved into ashes in his hand. Virgil cursed again, raising the blaster with his other arm and using his ash coated hand to slide the trigger, because this blaster-- like all other blasters-- were not made for human anatomy at all.

The last Pol’tur was a sickly orange color, like some type of invasive evil moss with long arms. Virgil grinned as the blast exploded forth in a dangerous golden ray of death. The heat singed the edge of his fingers, although the mild numbness prevented him from feeling much more than the slight pressure he assumed was warmth. The shot went wide, and the kickback sent Virgil to the floor, but it was enough. 

The blast shattered though several items on the shelves and Pol’tur scrambled back to avoid the avalanche of perishables-- scrambled back right into the pink fog of Virgil's last smoke bomb. It was screaming before Virgil could even sit back up.

Virgil inhaled heavily, sucking as much oxygen into his lung as he could afford and breathing it out through his nose. He squeezed his hand around the handle of the blaster, and tried to pretend like his skin didn’t feel too small. His empty hand-- the one that had held the Pol’tur-- was trembling, shaking, burning.

“I just think you’d be better off spending time with someone else.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Storm!”

“What was it like, Virgil? When you killed him?” 

His hand was covered in soot, tingling from nerves and poison and the heat of the blast that had annihilated all evidence of the living, breathing alien.  

“It wasn’t….” Virgil breathed heavily, “I didn’t….” 

He sucked in another breath, two, three, seven breaths, until he could feel the masquerading gas in the air turn his face numb, and the voices in his head went back to threatening buzzing. 

“Fuck,” he whispered softly, and pushed himself off the ground.

Virgil took the blaster with him, and made a private note to ask Logan to look into building communicators for times like this. There were an untold number of things that could have happened to get them mixed up: the Pol’tur ship could have barrel rolled at the time of, or before the final teleportation codes were in, it could have slowed or sped up, it could have marginally changed direction. All of which just proved that only stupid people like Virgil, Logan, Roman, and Patton would dare attempt a teleportation on a moving ship. Virgil tried not to think about what would have happened if his coordinates had been a little lower in space, a little closer to the box he had landed on, a little more personal and prompted whatever was inside of the crate merged with whatever was inside of Virgil.

It took him a moment to realize that the lights had started flashing an interspaced red and yellow series: a visual alarm to the crew.

“Fun,” Virgil mumbled, hugging the wall next to the exit, with one last breath, and then punching the exit lock. The hydraulics took a moment to work (probably due to excessive use of the doors and wear on the components), but it opened to reveal a brightly lit, completely empty hallway. Virgil raised his blaster, checking both the direction before he stepped out and punched the door closed behind him. Then he lined the blaster up with the door controls and fired.

You know, for safekeeping. The last thing they needed was the Pol’turs inside to wake up with a vengeance and come after them before they were off the ship. 

(If he was still on the ship by the time that they woke up, Virgil was pretty sure he’d be dead. But hey! Surprising things happened all the time when one lived in fucking space.)

The floor was springy under his feet, some mixture of carpet and flooring that Virgil didn’t know the name of, just that it was weird and he didn’t want it in his Sims House. He could feel the fibers through his shoes as he hugged the wall and sprinted towards where he thought the Engine room would be located.

He could hear the sound of more blasters echoing from the depths of the ship, some yelling, some cursing: all lovely signs that Roman was doing his best to be the most annoying moving target anyone had ever seen. Virgil found his lips curling into a smile as he faintly at the noise.

“Oh come on!” Roman taunted, “I’m a big guy! Surely, you can’t be that bad of a shot!” 

There was deafening BZZZTTRRRT, a clamorous crashing, and an ear splitting series of screams. 

Virgil flung around the last corner but in time to see Roman stand up from a kneeling position over a clump of bodies that had probably been more alive a few seconds ago. There were blaster marks all along the walls, and several had blown through a wall revealing a cozy living quarters with giant sword slices in the beddings and floors.

“Oooh, so close!” Roman said with faux-empathy bordering on smugness which at this point should just be his default to the mass. “Maybe next time you’ll think more before attacking an Erefren!” He spun at the sight of Virgil coming around the corner, pointing his sword and then shaking his tail in a greeting.

“Roman,” Virgil sighed in relief. “You okay?”

“Virgil! It seems like I got a little off course! Checked the prisoner cells but they were all empty. And then a few new friends of mine had some fun things to say about Remus.” Roman looked feral as he bared his teeth. He jabbed his sword down into the corpses and something wheezed painfully. Virgil didn’t look at them, didn’t look at them, didn’t look.

“Do you know where he is?” Virgil asked.

Roman used the edge of his shirt to wipe the blue grey blood from the tip of his blade. “Not yet, but if you give me a few more minutes with these lovely fellows of mine I will!”

It did not take “a few more minutes”. Roman hoisted on still gasping Pol’tur up by its gangly neck and it had already started blubbering in a mix of languages. Virgil watched the halls while Roman took notes from their new best friend. 

Half a minute later Roman dropped their captive to the ground with a fire in his eyes and turned to Virgil with his bone plates clinking, and dripping poison.

“He was on the Bridge.” He said, coldly, “He didn’t know if they had finished with Re or not, but he was up there”

“Okay,” Virgil said.

“The rest of his crew, Virgil,” Roman growled, squeezing the hilt of his sword. “His friends! His family!” He stared down at the shaking cowering alien life. “They..!”

The back of Virgil’s throat tasted like his stomach acids. 

Remus had tried to have them killed, he had sold them out, he had been a thorn in their side since before Virgil had become part of the team.  Between the harrowing escapes and the near deaths, it wasn’t hard for Virgil to absolutely despise him.

But his crew? His entire crew? In three days? 

Just….gone?

Condensed into the memories with a snap, removed from the future in just a blink. The initial attack on them must have been bad and bloody for Remus to call them for help, a surprise ambush type of attack. And for all Virgil hated Remus, he couldn’t help but wonder if Remus had had plans with them-- had they been discussing visiting the bars on L3-012 or shopping on K5-369 or relaxing on C2-276? Had Remus made plans with the people he had been close with and now those plans were meaningless because the people he had made them with were dead and gone and never coming ba--

The Pol’tur on the ground giggled something hysterically, one last brave blubbering comment, and Roman took the toe of his boot right into the creature's soft flesh. Its tentacles flopped on the floor with a plu-plat. 

“Virgil,” Roman hissed, without looking up.

Virgil blinked and swallowed hard, “Right, Engines,” He said, turning to go back to his task but Roman reached out and hooked his claws on Virgil’s shoulder, stopping him there.

“Change of plans,” The Erefren said, “You’re coming with me to the Bridge to get my idiot brother.”

Logan was on the Bridge too. Roman didn’t need to have Virgil come with him-- in fact, Virgil shouldn’t come with him. Too many people, too close to fighting, and Virgil couldn’t wipe away the feeling of grit on his hand. 

His entire crew. In just three days. 

Roman didn’t mention anything about how Virgil was shaking from head to toe, and Virgil didn’t point out the way that Roman’s voice wobbled with silent pleading. He just nodded at the alien and let him lead the way towards where they suspected the examination rooms would be.

Two heads are better than one, and all that. 

It was less of a guessing game when the halls and doors were labeled and Roman was very fluent in Pol’turian. Roman was quick to move, quick to sort his way through the poorly designed areas, quick to move. Virgil kept the pace as well as he could, watching the halls behind them for stragglers attempting to get the drop on them and Roman cut down anything in his way. 

Blue grey blood splattered across their shoes, filling the air with a sickly sour smell that made Virgil want to gag. He settled for squeezing the handle of the balster and counting out his breaths again as he avoided Roman’s tail striking forward at astonishing speeds and squeezing his eyes shut when he thought he saw a pair of mismatching eyes in the reflection of the lights.

There was no way for them to go quietly through the halls, not with Roman stomping hard enough to shake the entire ship and his poison attacks turning every enemy into a screaming, begging, crying puddle.

“Roman!” Virgil yelled as heat billowed around them, and the taller alien stumbled back, hit the wall and fell to his knees.

Virgil snarled at one of the mercenaries and fired three times at them. Between the near misses and the scattered yells of “Deathworlder!” they retreated into nearby rooms and locked the doors after them. Virgil tore one of his EMPs from Roman’s belt and sent it flying down the hall to keep them trapped there for a little bit, before he turned to check on Roman.

His shirt was smoldering, and one of his bone plates were cracked, but he just looked out of breath and angry, “I’m fine.” His claws scraped the floor as he stood up. “Armor took most of it.”

Virgil checked the hallway again. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, like a cancerous lump that he couldn’t get rid off no matter how much he swallowed or coughed. It pulsed to a beat that he wasn’t sure he could replicate: too fast and yet the space between each thud had felt like forever. It was so loud he almost was afraid of missing the sounds of another attack.

(An attack where Roman’s armor wouldn’t be enough, where he wouldn’t be able to wheeze off the pain, where he’d hit the wall then the floor and he wouldn’t be able to get back up and it would be all Virgil’s faul--)

Roman’s claws pricked his shoulder as he looked. With a slightly trembling hand he pointed in the direction they needed to go and Virgil did his best not to let his churning stomach get the better of him. 

“Virgil! Roman!” They both spun at the voice; Roman in particular struck out with his tail, and just narrowly avoided impaling Logan’s crystalline chest on spikes.

Logan didn’t even flinch, not that he could really. His lower arms spread with palms out to signal innocence but his upper arms were busy holding up the profusely bleeding Erefren that was leaning mostly on him. Logan’s arms were flickering with so many colors Virgil couldn’t keep track of them. (Vaguely it reminded him of a disco ball, of party lights, of something so Earthly it would have made him laugh if he wasn’t so busy trying to hold back a panic attack.)

“Remus,” Roman breathed, reaching forward, impossibly gently.

“Ro’mn,” Remus slurred, shifting his head ever so slightly. His blood was pooling down the left half of his face, his eyes were partially glassy, but other than that he looked remarkably like Roman: they shared the same face with a strong jawline, the same dark dark hair curled the same way, and the same long tail with dozens of bone plates. The only real difference was the tinge of white in Remus’s hair, the oozing green poison leaking from his bone structures in place of Roman’s red, and the gaps where someone had torn out his bone plates before Remus had grown new ones in.

“Didn’t think…” Remus’s head lulled to the side, showing off the smile he was desperately forcing on his face, “didn’t think… you were comin’.”

“I’m throwing you out of the airlock,” Roman told him.

“‘ounds fun…” Remus murmured, dropping his head back to Logan’s back, and wincing like each inhale was a battle.

“They had him on the Bridge,” Logan explained, “When I arrived, they were attempting to retrieve information from him through barbaric methods. I may have gone overboard with my retaliation.” Logan shifted Remus’s weight slightly, drawing a groan from the other alien. “I am by no means a medical examiner, however, I suspect that he may have several rib fractures, and a few wounds that need to be looked at and well bandaged.”

Roman nodded, although Virgil didn’t think he actually heard anything. Virgil was an only child himself, but he could guess that even if Remus had been the biggest asshole in the entire cosmos seeing him reduced to this weakened, bloody, broken mess was terrifying. From the stories of their childhood, Virgil had always guessed that Remus was as lively as they came. But this version of him couldn’t even stand by himself.

Roman’s head shot up, “Patton. Where’s Pat? We’ve got Re, now its time to get out of here and get him help--”

“NO!” Remus shouted lunging forward suddenly. Logan stumbled at the change of weight, nearly dropping him to the floor, but it seemed that the movement had taken most of the rest of his power. “I can’t… They have…Jay… I prom’sed…”

Virgil checked the hall for enemies because that was easier than looking at the desperation in Remus’s eyes. His voice was scratched and grated like a glass under the assault of a diamond. He coughed so violently it dragged out a glob of purple blood from him.

“Remus, you can’t--” Roman said.

And despite Remus looking like a simple breeze could end his life, he grabbed at Roman’s outreached arm, above the danger of the forearm spikes.“Me and... my crew,” Remus coughed, weakly. “The oath…” 

“I talked to one of those bastards,” Roman countered, forcibly soft, forcibly strained. “Re, your crew is--”

“Ro…” He pleaded, “Please.” 

Roman made a noise like something in him was physically shredding him apart. Virgil suspected it was his hero complex, which usually manifested the urge to save every living being he saw. Lost wasn’t a good look on Erefrens, Virgil decided right then and there. Hopeless and terrified and sad-- all of them made Roman look wrong. 

“What's wrong, Vee? You look like you want to say something.”

“....It’s nothing.”

“What? Not even a joke? Come on, I know you--”

“Let it go, Ekans.”

Virgil blinked away the unwanted memory.  He sighed out of his nose and reached up to hook on the back of Roman’s armor collar. “Let’s go.” 

“Virge…” Roman murmured.

“If we don’t do this now,” Virgil said, “We’ll regret it.” 

He didn’t wait for the others to catch up with his train of thought, or maybe he wasn’t waiting for his own train of thought to catch up. He tugged Roman back a step and nodded at Logan. “We’ll double back and find any crew that’s left and get Pat. You take Remus to the engine room room and get the codes ready for us to get back.”

“For real?” Roman said.

“Understood, Virgil.” Logan nodded back. He glowed purple softly, around his neck notches as if he had expected this after all. “Don’t be late.”

“Time is a construct.” 

Remus laughed like he was choking on a handful of rusted nails. Roman tensed at the sound, gritted his teeth, and then tightened his grip on his sword. Resolved hardened in his eyes, burning through the lost expression like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm. 

“Right,” Roman said, “Let’s go.” Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand and took off in the direction they had come from. “Any guesses where the guy’s gonna be? Or where Pat is?”

Virgil felt his stomach churn. He closed his eyes and let Roman pull him along as he tried to remember the 3D diagram of a Pol’turian ship. “Well if I was in cargo, you landed near the prisoner blocks, while Logan was on the Bridge...that means that while Logan was doing the calculations the ship probably did a half roll on the longitudinal axis, which he couldn’t have accounted for. Since this ship appears to be the same as the other makes and models of Pol’turs that means that Patton probably ended up in the medical bay. And if I had to guess that’s where any last member of the crew would be as well. Take this left here.”

Roman nearly stumbled over his own feet. “How in the name of the Great God, Disney-- have you memorized all the maps?”

Virgil furrowed his brow at the alien, “Haven’t you?”

“Well yes, but--” Roman’s face flushed with a bit of his purple blood, “Nevermind, Deathworlder.”

The medical wing of the ship was easy to get to compared to the other places. It seemed that either the Pol’turs had wisened up for an ambush or they had fled when they had the chance. Either way they only came across two mercenaries and Roman made quick work of them. 

He knew they had arrived by the buzzing of air, the tingle of his skin that made him feel too big and too small at the same time. The walls were bare and there were four rooms lining them, each with a number engraved in the door and the lock panels glowing red with what Virgil guessed was the Pol’turian symbol for “closed” or “locked” or “dangerous chemical inside do not release”. Virgil reached for another EMP, but his bag was empty. There were scents around them, faint scents: something metallic, something sour, something clean, something, something, something--

Something that smelled like blood. So many different kinds of blood.

Virgil swallowed hard. He hadn’t known a lot about Remus’s crew, but he knew that Remus had had a dozen different species with him. A dozen different species that hadn’t survived the encounter. 

“Pat!” Roman yelled down the hall, brandishing his sword. 

“Roman! In here! Help--” A voice that was most definitely Patton’s yelled out.

Roman didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward to the room the voice had come from, almost feverishly, desperately, and he didn’t bother with the password. With a swift violent motion he jabbed his sword into the locking panel and then pried open the door with his claws and his hands.

Virgil thought that it would have been one hell of a sight: if he had been strapped to a table, a knife jab from death’s door, begging, pleading, crying and knowing that all his friends had been taking to the room before him and had not come back out intact? If Virgil had been bleeding out and clinging to the slippery bit of hope that was a miracle, and then he saw his captain’s brother literally prying open the door with his bare claws to get to him---

Virgil thought it would have been pretty awesome.

Not something that should have warranted a knife being thrown at them.

Roman let out a curse in Erefren and it was one of those don’t-repeat-this-don’t-tell-Patton curses that Roman specialized in. He staggered back, clutching his shoulder where the knife had sunk in all the way to the hilt, Jesus! What the hell! Virgil kicked the rest of the door open, dropping low as scalpel skirted by where his body should have been, and then he sprung back up with his blaster set on that asshole. 

Except.

“Virgil!”

The room was small, almost claustrophobically small. Just standing in the doorway made Virgil’s breath shorten (his cell back at the Welsor fighting rings had been bigger than this--). And it was lit with cold harsh white light, nearly blinding, if it weren’t for the greyed walls and the splashes-- the splashes of faded pink and blue and other colors that Virgil recognized all too well as blood. The table took up most of the room, leaving just enough space for a Pol’tur to sweep around and a small hand tray of twisted instruments.

In fact there was a Pol’tur on the ground right there. Limp and unmoving with an eye scoop so far in it’s skull there was no way it was coming back out.

But Virgil wasn’t staring at the body. 

“Don’t you get tired of being everyone’s favorite person?” 

It couldn’t--

“Just shut up and help me with these conjugations, will you?”

This wasn’t--

“What do you mean no one can find him?” 

He hadn’t--

The detective had looked at him with such a pity that it had made Virgil’s entire body flinch. He squeezed the plastic cup in his hand, crushing it, letting the fragments cut into his skin. He couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel anything. The man was still talking to him, talking softly like anything louder would shatter the fragile reality around them, talking so quietly Virgil couldn’t hear a single thing he was saying at all over the sound of his own heartbeat.

“You’re wrong,” Virgil had croaked. “He’s not dead.”

But he had been.

He had been for nearly two years now.

And everyone had thought that Virgil had done something to him, had thought that Virgil was the last to see him, had thought that his dark clothes and his eye shadow and a few sneers in the hall had meant that Virgil was suddenly capable of killing Janus Ekans in cold blood.

Except.

Except that Virgil was staring at Janus --fucking-- Ekans right now.

It was unmistakable, the shape of his face, the curve of his lips, the slimness of his nose. The wispy brown hair that turned golden under the summer sun, the mischievous eyes danced with different colors, the flick of his tongue that moved so freely when he let it, the tattoo of two theater masks on his chest that no one was supposed to know about-- Virgil could have spent days naming things, committing them to memory, staring in disbelief at him. This was the same boy who had sat next to him in Spanish. The same Janus who had been convinced he was so completely untouchable up until Virgil had dragged him off his stupid, golden pedastal.

It was the same Janus who was currently wrapped around Patton like a boa constrictor cutting off the alien’s ability to move and had a knife perched ever so closely to one of Patton’s eyes.

“What the hell?” Virgil had said because-- because--

Because Virgil had asked Logan once if there was a race that could pick through minds, pull memories from heads, change the way someone thought. And Logan didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t lie to him. There were no alien types that could break into a mind and drag illusions into reality and there were no races that could bring ghosts back from oblivion.

“Virgil,” Janus said barely a whisper, barely enough to be heard, barely enough to mean anything. The knife was tilting in his hand, tipped like he wasn’t sure what he was saying, wasn’t sure what he was doing. “What-?”

Partially drugged, Virgil thought with absolutely no room to breathe in his chest. Partially drugged, holding a knife to Patton’s weakest point, and alive. 

“Janus,” Virgil said, ”Put down the knife.”

He’s still partially strapped to the table, bound by his left ankle and sporting a lovely series of cuts on the side of his face as if someone had started carving scales into his cheek for funsies. If Virgil had to hazard a guess he would have assumed that Patton had dropped in literally as the Pol’tur was taking Janus-- Janus, alive, breathing, real-- apart one centimeter at a time, then proceeded to win a very cramped fight in the room. Virgil would even say that Patton had started taking the restraints off of Janus when he had gained enough consciousness to realize that he needed to defend himself. 

(The fact that they found something capable of drugging a human, a Deathworlder, was concerning, so concerning, terrifying--)

“Virgil….You are not real,” Janus said, slowly, blood dripping down his neck. “You cannot be real. None of this is real.”

“I’m the one thats not real?” Virgil muttered. “You’re the one that was declared dead.”

He laughed. Virgil’s stomach swooped.

For a second, a brief fleeting second, he could have sworn that this was all a dream. A fever dream in which Virgil would blink himself awake from and find himself on the floor of Janus’s stupid, giant ass room surrounded by a dozen cans of off-brand energy drinks, a half eaten bucket of popcorn, and the credits for a horror movie scrolling on the screen. For a second it felt like he would roll over and bump elbows with Janus who had woken up an hour previously to study for that stupid Spanish test that wasn’t until Monday. For a second it was like he was seventeen again and his biggest worry was figuring out if it was too weird to ask to run his hands through Janus’s silky hair.

“Of course, I was declared fucking dead!” Janus said, like it was the obvious thing that would happen, “I am dead. I have to be, because there’s no other way that the kid who's afraid of going outside made it this far into space.” 

“Janus, put down the knife.” Virgil took a step forward, a half a step, but Janus just squeezed the knife tighter. 

“Why don’t you come and make me?” Janus smiled at him, smiled, smiled, smiled.

Smiled like he knew that this was a dream and nothing he did was going to matter. Smiled like they were back on that balcony of his room with their feet swinging between the bars and two Seagrams gone each and they were going to get in a shit ton of trouble for it. Smiled like he had never been dead and Virgil hadn’t had to bury the thought of him.

Patton made a noise, a small whimper, and Virgil felt it in his chest. The near silence of the room, the soft muted buzzing in his head, the fuzzy dream like quality of reality-- it all shattered at the sound. Shattered like glass, like a mirror, like the concept of “forever”. It shattered and Virgil was suddenly hyperaware of how small the room was, how cold he felt, how metallic the air smelt. 

“Hm, just as I thought,” Janus said softly, smile dropping into something wistful and disappointed, “I really am just seeing thin--”

Virgil didn’t give him the satisfaction of finishing; he surged forward, throwing his blaster to the side, and using his left hand to catch Janus’s wrist millimeters from putting that knife in Patton. He twisted his hand, pining his fingers into the soft flesh of Janus’s nerves until his hand jerked open on reflex and the knife fell into the open air.

Janus froze, inhaling so sharply Virgil was certain that he took all the oxygen in the room away. 

He was warm, Virgil realized absently. He was warm and had a pulse and for some reason both those things made Virgil’s chest hurt. His skin was soft and his breath was sweet and Virgil had gotten punch-drunk stupid on less.

Which probably explained why, how, when, Virgil’s lips ended up on his, pressing firmly, and tasting like something from a past Virgil had thought he had given up on. Virgil had always been stupid, but this was another level of stupid. This was incredibly dumb, unbelievable, ridiculous. 

Janus’s mouth was on his, and Virgil’s hand was tipping his head back ever so slightly, and Patton had managed to scramble out of Janus’s absolutely shocked slacked hold.

“You’ve always been so annoying,” Virgil gasped between breaths, “Always thinking you know everything. Have you ever considered you might be wrong before?”

“You’re--” Janus whispered, “Real? For real?” Then, “Don’t you know what the fuck consent is?”

“Fuck you,” Virgil told him.

Janus grabbed him by his collar and yanked him forward again. “Since you asked so nicely.” 

“Don’t be cute.” 

“Don’t be coy.” Janus shot back because he was still the same asshole who needed to have the last word. He bit at Virgil’s lip, and then pulled back to show off a wolfish grin. 

Virgil was stuck somewhere between wanting to smash his stupid smug face in and wanting to kiss him until he lost all sense of direction. Janus was like that, Virgil remembered suddenly, even when they were kids, when Janus was trapped on that pedestal everyone had put him on, when Virgil couldn’t have cared less about him and somehow had ended up unsure how to live without him.

“Not that this isn’t the fucking cutest shit I’ve ever seen--“ A voice behind them called and Virgil stiffened.

“Language!” Patton interrupted, as Roman grunted through the pain of still having a surgical knife in his shoulder. 

“--But can the two of you save your weird-ass….human…. greeting custom…. for some other time?” The Erefren snarled with one hand clutching the hilt and then yanking it out with a wheeze that Virgil felt physically. His purple blood spouted out from the wound but Roman didn’t seem to care, beyond tossing the knife to the floor.

“That’s an Erefren,” Janus said because he’s just as good at stating the obvious as he is at kissing. “That is not Remus.”

Roman snapped out something in his native tongue, which by the stress on the syllables was probably not nice and definitely not Patton approved. The Reytin even puffed up, shaking his head in a way that normally prefaced an hour long lecture on manners and the reintroduction of a swear jar. 

However, Janus just laughed that pretty stupid little laugh of his but when he opened his mouth the words were all forgein. It took Virgil a moment to catch up, a moment to realize that he hadn’t even fumbled, that Janus had actually spoken Erefrenian and it had been grammatically correct enough that stunned Roman for a whole half second. 

“You speak Erefrenian?” Virgil asked.

Janus blinked up at him a smug looking expression on his face. “You don’t?”

Virgil had a good response, he did. It was a response that had been some-three years in the making and Virgil had been ready to wipe that prideful expression of his face. But before they could do anything the entire ship lurched to the side, taking gravity with it. Virgil let out a yelp and grabbed for Janus and clung for stability.

(Space had done wonders for Janus’s abs, Virgil thought distantly.)

Roman slammed into the door frame and stumbled out into the hall, with all the grace a drunken ballerina, and cursed again when Patton landed on top of him.

“That’s our cue to leave!” Roman growled.

“Ya think?” Virgil shot back. He lunged for the end of the table where Janus’s bare foot was still strapped to the table. He didn’t look at the rusted color on the buckle, at the stiffness of the leather strap, at the rawness of Janus’s skin where it was biting into his ankle. He didn’t, didn’t, didn’t--

His hands shook. Janus reached over and clasped his forearms, the fabric of his tunic, him. 

“Virgil--” Janus said, softly, unsuredly, with no trace of that previous pompous expression on him. “I--”

There was blood on his face, trailing all the way down his neck in scarlet silvers from the cuts. His hair was sweat matted, pressed and tousled in a way that made Virgil feel a certain rage in his chest, like someone had been running fingers through his curls while they sliced him apart. His eyes were still slightly glassy from whatever they put in him. There was an unspoken question on his lips, in his eyes, through his fingers as he clung to Virgil. 

“I’ve got you,” Virgil told him, practically scooping him up. Janus heaved a breath as his feet touched the ground again. “Us humans have to stick together, right?” 

Janus Ekans was alive. 

It sounded surreal even in the moment, because Virgil had been mourning him since they were seventeen and stupid. Everyone else had moved on, had buried his memory, had forgotten about him. But he was not dead, and Virgil had not killed him. Somehow he had ended up in space, ended up with Remus, ended up here on this ship in the several billions of lightyears from anything they had known previously.

There would be no more late-nights-turned-early-mornings study sessions, no more sneaking over the gated walls of the Ekans mansion, and no more scaling the lattice underneath Janus’s balcony. They were never going to go stargazing on the hills outside of town again, never going to ruthlessly text each other under the desk during History class, never going to skip prom together to go trespassing in the woods somewhere to find Mothman. He was never going to butcher Spanish past participles in the cozy corner of the school library after hours and he was never going to get to listen to Janus brag about obtaining his Seal of Biliteracy finally despite his proficiency in about three languages. 

Janus had disappeared right before senior year. And Virgil, who had been the biggest thorn in his side, the biggest instigator of all their fights, the wild and unruly punk kid that lived in detention-- Virgil had stopped looking for him. Because everyone said he had died. Because everyone said that Virgil had killed him.

But Virgil could feel Janus’s pulse, could hear his heartbeat, could see the way his chest moved as they stumbled out of the room. 

Part of him was afraid that if he let go now, later, ever, Janus would disappear again. Shimmer and fade like a mirage in the desert.

“Careful Virgil,” Janus said breathily. “I almost think you missed me.”

“I hate you so much,” Virgil said back, as Roman and Patton led the way toward the engine rooms by blade and alien jujutsu and well-placed pun.

“Somehow, I don’t think you mean that, at all.” Janus said, grinning.

And then he closed that last little bit of space between them again.

[Next installment: Stars Die (But We Don’t)]

[hijinae]

                     KANG JINAE — TASK OO1.

          ❝ maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. maybe it’s about                unbecoming everything that isn’t really you, so you CAN be who you were                                                       meant to be in the first place.

GENERAL INFO

full name: kang jinae. nickname(s): jiji. nae. ( and jenni was her english name ). gender & pronouns: cis-female / she & her. sexual & romantic orientation: pansexual / panromantic. age & dob: twenty-six. 311092. birthplace/hometown: léon, france, tho she was only there for the first two months of her life, until the doctors gave her the all clear & her father moved them for the first time of many. parents/siblings: kang jaejin ( father, alive, currently lives in chile and hasn’t seen his daughter since she came back to korea ). kim nari ( mother, deceased ). no siblings. pet(s): one sphynx KITTEN named juju !! astrological sign: sun: scorpio. moon: sagittarius. rising: virgo. dominant hand: she writes with her right, but does literally everything else like a left handed person. handwriting style: very neat and organized. language(s) known/spoken: she’s currently fluent in: french, english, spanish, mandarin, japanese, korean and portuguese. she wants to learn: german and russian. religion: wiccan. current living arrangements: lives in a relatively high end penthouse-like apartment. ( FLOOR PLAN | MASTER BEDROOM | LIVING AREA | KITCHEN | RECORDING STUDIO ) occupation/major: retired idol / recording artist.

PHYSICAL

picture reference: HERE. blood type: a. nationality: korean. skin tone/color: normally, her skin is very milky. birthmarks & scars: she has a couple scars from childhood that came along with being a little adventurer, but nothing major. she has a strawberry shaped birthmark that’s about three or four shades darker than her skin tone that can be found the back of her left shoulder. she also has one on the outside of her right wrist. height: ~158cm ( 5′2″ ) build: lean, slim. hair color: normally, it’s black. right now, she has it dyed purple, tho. hair length: just a few inches short of being all the way to her hips. eye color: brown, naturally, but she’s known to wear a lot of colored contacts. diet: she eats what she wants, when she wants, however much of it she wants. as an idol, she had to do a lot of dieting and she’s over it. people should be able to enjoy themselves without worrying too much; of course, they should take care of their health ( both physical & mental ), but they don’t have to be a size 00 in order to do so. exercise & level of fitness: she does light cardio and weight lifting, along with some yoga. it’s nothing too serious because she mainly does it to keep herself feeling good and flexible. it also helps her endurance, which is a plus. she’s a runner, tho, so she does that the most and on the daily. how’s their posture ( or lack thereof )?: when she’s working, it’s normally very proper out of habit. when she’s just relaxing, she can be known to slouch a bit. typical style of dress: when she’s at home, sweatpants and a sports bra is what she’ll always be in. she’ll throw on a tank top if she has a guest ( depending who it is ).

her street style varies. sometimes she’ll wear a dress or skirt, sometimes it’s jeans & a tee, sometimes it’s something baggy. and she’s always seen with either a hat or face mask. body modifications: piercings: each lobe is pierced. she has an industrial in her right ear & three cartilage piercings in her left. she’s looking to get a venom tongue piercing, she just hasn’t decided when.

tattoos: THIS ONE on the underneath of both wrists. THIS ONE between her boobs. THIS ONE on her back. THIS ONE on her right thigh ( nsfw ). and THIS ONE on her right rib. a waning crescent on her right ring finger ( to represent @ofdaeseong‘s moon phase when he was born ), her zodiac symbol on her right pointer finger, three dots on her right middle finger, middle knuckle. a waning crescent on her left pointer finger ( to represent @ofazcmi‘s moon phase when she was born ), three dots on her left middle finger, middle knuckle, and saturn lineart on her left ring finger ( bc get it ?? marriage, left ring finger,,, saturn,,, the only planet with a ring ?? no ?? ok then. )

MANNERISMS

how does your muse walk?: normally, it’s sorta soft and airy, like the summer breeze. she’s really shy, tho, so if she’s walking alone, she’ll try to make herself as small as possible in hopes of bringing the least amount of attention to herself. how does your muse talk?: very clear and concise with her words and pronunciation. she’s also very animated, so she talks with her hands and makes a lot of facial expressions. what accent/dialect does your muse talk with?: thanks to her training, she primarily speaks with a seoul dialect. how would you describe the tone of their voice? are they loud or quiet?: she’s definitely on the quiet side, but her vocal tone is sorta low. raspy at times, too, which is why she prefers to sing the r&b / soul genre. she feels it fits her vocal style much better. what does their laugh sound like?: she doesn’t make a lot of noise when she laughs ( or does much of anything tbh ), it’s just slight wheezing depending how hard she’s laughing. if she gets to laughing too hard, tho, it’ll sound like she’s crying.   how does your muse typically smell?: roses !!! it’s a light scent if it’s during the day time and she normally mixes it with a hint of vanilla if she’s going out at night. what kind of air do they carry?: sorta timid, maybe a little standoffish if she doesn’t smile. when she smiles, tho, it’s very warm and sweet. do they have a(ny) catchphrase(s)?: not really ?? i mean, she says i love you a lot, but that’s about it. what are their nervous ticks?: shakes her legs, bites her lip / cheek, crackles her knuckles, pinches herself.

PSYCHOLOGY

what makes your muse happiest?: roses. her kitten. her friends. bubble baths. night time. music, most importantly her guitars. art museums. banana milk. ice cream. deep conversations. filming / photography. cooking. gloomy days. clean bed sheets. body pillows. cuddles. warm tea. smiles. surprises. learning. losing herself in a good book. scented candles. holding hands. what upsets them the most?: herself. impatient / rude people. forgetting things. nightmares. does your muse have any quirks?: she has a tendency to talk to herself ? mainly bc it helps get a handle on her thoughts and everything. what are their hobbies? how frequent do/can they do them?: making music, primarily and she does it daily. reading, which she does every night before she goes to bed; at least a chapters worth. photography, and that happens usually only when inspiration strikes. cinematography, primarily only becomes a thing when she’s making a b-roll to be used to make a lyric video or something for one of her songs. cooking, whenever she feels like doing it. do they have any guilty pleasures?: she doesn’t do anything that she feels guilty about, so no ?? is your muse an extrovert or an introvert? neither?: she’s definitely much more introverted, unless she’s comfortable with you. do they have high or low self-esteem? what about confidence?: she has low everything tbh are they easily stressed and how do they normally respond to it?: normally, she just tackles the situation head on and focuses on getting it done. then, once it’s not an issue anymore, she’ll freak out. what is your muses worst fear?: losing the people she loves. what is your muses biggest dream?: to become a good mom, daughter, friend, and someone her people can be proud. is your muse a morning person or a night dragon?: she’s both; just depends which one she needs to be. how intelligent is your muse? do they acknowledge it?: she’s a lot smarter in a sense of street smarts than school smarts ( but she’s always been a straight A student ), but she definitely doesn’t acknowledge it. there’s so much for her to still learn and room for growth; she’s never going to consider herself intelligent. to her, she’s dumb, but she’s not stupid. describe their sense of humor: it’s really easy to make her laugh considering she laughs at everything. her favorite thing, tho, is when someone mispronounces something.

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES

are they currently in any sexual or romantic relationships?: they are in neither at the moment. what is their experience with relationships?: she’s been in one official relationship with @hwvngahri, but they’ve broken up for various reasons. however, they’re still unable to completely let go of one another. how does your muse view the idea of friends with benefits? have they ever had one? would they ever?: she doesn’t really have a view on them. so long as both parties are single, it’s really up to them, isn’t it ? and she hasn’t had any friends with benefits nor does she think she’d ever have any, but then again, life works in mysterious ways so she’s not completely closed off to the idea. how important is sex to your muse?: it’s not the most important thing, but it’s still really important. after all, you should be with someone who you enjoy and who enjoys you. what are their biggest turn on and turn offs?: in her own words: “i can get behind everything except the nasty stuff that involves bodily liquids or feet.” in terms of non-sexual things, she likes honesty, kindness, loyalty, the usual stuff. and she’s primarily turned off by disrespect. does your muse find it easy to make friends?: not,,, terribly. as i mentioned before, she’s shy. like,, really shy, so she finds opening up sort of difficult. but at the same time, she just wants to spread love and warmth to everyone, so she’s always very nice. how important is friendship to them?: it’s Very important. quantity or quality of friends?: quality will Always beat quantity any day of the week. how important is family?: i mean, it’s important, but more so the family she’s chosen for herself along with her maternal grandparents. the relationship between her and her father is VERY strained. are they close to their family? why or why not ?: they aren’t, not really. besides her maternal grandparents, as i mentioned above, who took care of her when she moved back to sk. her dad just hasn’t really been able to form much of a bond with her — jinae thinks this is bc he blames her for his wife’s death — and it’s something she’s carried with her throughout her whole life.

FAVORITES

activity: playing guitar / singing. animal: cats !! and owls beverage: warm tea or banana milk. book: when breath becomes air. color: purple !! designer: doesn’t have one; prefers not to wear them. food: anything with chicken. sweet stuff. flower: roses !! lilies !! gem: ooooh, she has a collection of these and she likes them for different reasons, but if she had to choose a favorite, she’d probably go with moonstone or opalite. holiday: all of them, especially halloween. she just likes having an excuse to either dress up or shower the people she loves with affection. mode of transportation: @ofdaeseong‘s bike or walking. movie: the craft. and if you didn’t see that coming, i,,, don’t know what to tell you. musical artist: she has Multiple, so i’ll list a few that she listens to regularly: emotional oranges, jay park, the rose, tinashe, kiana lede, kehlani, just to name a few. quote / saying: “if it harms none, do as you will”. it’s the basis of her beliefs and pretty much dictates how she goes about everything in life. scenery: she Loves the woods in the dead of winter. or spring sunsets. scent: roses !! and pretty much everything floral. she also likes the smell of pine and the earth after it rains. weather: gloomy and cold. vacation destination: she’s been to a lot of beautiful places, but she’s never been able to experience the caribbean; which is where she’d like to go before making a final decision about her favorite vacation spot. as of right now, tho, canada is in the lead.

ATTITUDES

greatest dream: she just wants to become the best person she can be. both for herself and the people who are important to her. greatest fear: losing the people she loves. most at east when: when she’s with her best friends, @ofazcmi and @ofdaeseong and / or when she’s playing her guitar. least as ease when: she’s put on the spot. worst possible thing that could happen: she doesn’t make her mom proud or loses her friends. biggest achievement: helping make her mom’s dream come true; even if she didn’t last as long as she would’ve liked. biggest regret: she doesn’t have any. everything happens for a reason and nothing in the universe is coincidental. most embarrassing moment: pretty much every day of her life tbh. biggest secret: she’s a survivor of abuse which is why she has nothing to do with her dad anymore. top priorities: her friends. her music. life.

EXTRA TIDBITS

001. she gives everyone a nickname, and i mean Everyone ------ usually pokemon related ------ she may not call you by said nickname, but it helps keep her from forgetting.

002. the most sentimental person you’ll ever meet; she keeps everything. you two went to see a movie 10 years ago ?? she’s still got the ticket stub. you gave her a birthday card 19 years ago ?? she’s still got it. and every gift from her usually includes something she’s made herself.

003. her camera roll is Filled with funny animal pictures. she looks at them anytime she needs a laugh.

004. her personality does a complete 180 after she’s had a few drinks. the veil is dropped, along with all of her insecurities, & she finally shows the woman she really is.

005. everything she does is very light. her touch, her steps, the way she writes, etc. she’s just very soft; so much so that sometimes it’s hard to tell if she’s actually touched you or if you just imagined it. sorta like if you have your phone in your pocket & you think you feel it vibrate, but you can’t actually tell so you have to check ? yea, like that. bc of this, it’s also rly easy for her to sneak up on you.

006. watches a lot of asmr videos ://////

007. there’s only four people in this entire world that she would actually throw fists for and that’s @ofazcmi, @ofdaeseong, @rhyominnie & her daughter.

008. she has an ear for accents, so if she listens to it a few times, she can ( usually ) mimic it perfectly. and sometimes she thinks it’s fun to use one of those accents when she takes a trip & meets someone new. it sorta gives her an opportunity to get out of her own skin for a bit, which she, strangely, finds therapeutic.

009. it took her a long time to actually enjoy her birthday / halloween. for the longest time, she always felt guilty that she was the one here instead of her mom, and that she had the ability to have fun, but over time, she slowly began to realize ( with the help of her friends ) that she was allowed to enjoy herself; that it’s what her mom would’ve wanted. now, it’s her favorite and she also uses it as a way to pay respects.

[madness-of-void]

Little Distraction

Also On AO3

Theme: Kids

Based on this post

The thing about accepting a date from some dude that sat next to you in your advanced photography class just because he was cute was...well...

It was a bad idea.

Stiles could tell that all the dude wanted was to get in his pants. Bad. Add a notch to that belt above the fornication bed. Not that he minded. Stiles hadn't been laid in a few years. He was quite surprised by his ability to ignore his libido and breeze by classes like it was nothing.

But he did miss sex. Sorta. He didn't need it, per se. He could live without it. And besides, he liked getting to know people before he decided to share something completely intimate with them.

But this guy, this incredibly cute dude in his advanced photography class, with the dimples and curly red hair and pretty blue eyes, just...no. Nothing fun about him. All he had going for him was the looks. Now, if his efforts were more focused on trying to engage Stiles in some type of interesting conversation rather than attempting to give him a boner from under the table in a fucking public place...

Out of all the first dates Stiles had ever been on, this one had to be the worst.

He had no idea how to get out of this uncomfortable situation. Not a single clue. Sure, he could tell the guy to go have intercourse with a cactus, but he has calmed down a lot since his high school days. He wasn't as much of an ass as he used to be. Though he was definitely considering it. Wasn't like the dude didn't deserve it.

Thankfully, a blessing in disguise showed up.

And what was said blessing?

A baby.

An adorable, rosy cheeked, olive skinned, tousled black haired, stunning golden-green eyed, Gameboy onesie wearing baby.

Instantly, Stiles forgot all about his terrible date. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.

Now, Stiles adored babies. They were just so small and cute and innocent and sweet – how could anyone hate them?! His eyes focused with intense joy on the little tyke, even when the father (at least he thinks it is the father) got in the way briefly. All he saw of the maybe dad was the back of his head, which was the same black as the baby, and the fact that the guy was made of muscle. Other than that, the world revolved around the bouncing baby boy in the highchair.

“Oh my god...so cute...” he whispered, leaning in closer.

“I am?” his date asked, a smirk forming.

“Shhhh! Shut up! I'm gonna talk to the little guy.”

“Uhhhh...”

Stiles waved at the baby, grinning like an absolute idiot. “Hello! Hi! Hi there!”

His date proceeded to look even more confused than he was already. Not like Stiles cared. There was a baby behind his date. And Stiles would not be distracted from a baby!

The baby stared back at Stiles, brows furrowed deeply. It was too damn cute! Ugh! Stiles wanted one! He started making faces, ignoring what was likely words of annoyance from his date. He blew up his cheeks, crossed his eyes, and stuck out his tongue.

To his delight, the little tyke squealed happily. Loudly.

Score one for the Stiles!

He started to play peek-a-boo, a classic hit for babies. And, as expected, the little guy loved it. Laughed hysterically! Stiles could feel his chest swell with joy. With pride. This had to be the best thing in creation! Almost better than curly fires! (Which was saying something, because nothing was better than a good batch of curly fries.)

Eventually, the little shrieks of pure, awesome joy pulled the supposed father's attention away from the menu and towards what was making his boy so noisy. Which was when Stiles became slightly distracted. Wasn't hard. Baby daddy was just...just so...unfairly pretty. He could see where the squealing tyke got all his good looks from. Every. Last. Bit. Of. Them.

“I think your date left...” the guy said in a surprisingly soft voice.

Stiles allowed his attention to be pulled away, finding that, in fact, his date had left him. He shrugged, sputtering with no cares to give. Dude's loss. Babies were a godsend!

“He was only in it for the bedroom game, anyway.” he snorted.

The pretty man's face fell, like he felt it was all his fault somehow that Stiles had lost his date.

“No no no no!” He hurried over to the chair his date once occupied, sitting in it backwards and motioning towards the still giggling baby. “It's totally cool, man. The kid is way better of a conversationalist!”

The guy snorted, a smile forming. (Revealing the most adorable bunny teeth, holy hell.) “Thanks, I guess. Sirius is pretty smart for his age.” He turned to the baby, that smile growing as he ran his fingers through the thick mop of black on the child's head. “Aren't you?”

The little guy, Sirius, beamed at him. All gums. All cute.

Stiles held back all the fanboying he wanted to do. Held it in very tight. Because he didn't need to lose his cool now. Later in his dorm would be a-okay! Now? Nope!

“Sirius, huh? Like...Sirius Black? Or like the star?”

Pretty guy's ears went bright red and he flinched lightly. “Um...both?”

“That's awesome, man. He's gonna be the coolest kid in school.” Stiles leaned in a little closer, careful to keep the legs of the chair not too far off the ground. “Isn't that right, little dude?”

Sirius garbled, still all gums smiling. Goddamn...so friggin' cute!

“Derek.”

“H-h-huh?”

“My name?”

“Oh! Oh, dude! Okay! Cool! Uh, I'm Stiles.”

“What kind of name is Stiles?”

“A much safer one than my real name. Trust me. I think only my mom and babcia could say it without tripping.”

“Ah. Polish, I presume?”

Stiles flailed, nearly falling forward. Crisis was adverted, thanks to Mr. Derek. But little Sirius thought it was funny as hell. So...score two for the Stiles.

“You, uh...you know Polish?”

“I know a lot of languages.”

“Oh wow. Neat. I know, like, the bare minimum of Spanish and Polish. Yeah...I've never been real good at learning languages. Though I'm taking sign language at school right now. Doing pretty good in that.”

“School?”

“Don't freak. I'm over twenty-one.”

Derek hummed, looking thoughtful. “What are you going to school for?”

“Photography. With a minor in criminal psychology.”

“Sounds like a tough load.”

“Eh. I like it. I'm being challenged, and I'm also challenging my professors.” Stiles held a finger out for Sirius, scrunching his face up as he grinned. “They're not as good at conversations as you are, little dude.”

Sirius screeched giddily, taking Stiles' finger and attempted to place it in his mouth. Stiles laughed, tempted to lean forward to let the baby nom on his finger. But he knew what would happen if he tried, so he just watched as Sirius fruitlessly tried to pull him towards the mouth.

“He's usually shy...” Derek confessed quietly.

“Wha? Really? He seems like a totally bubbly kid.”

“No. He's...pretty shy. Usually cries when people talk to him.”

“Huh. Guess that means I'm special. But not as special as you, Sirius! Man...someone needs to get you a wand.”

At that, Derek chuckled, ducking his head in order to hide his smile. Score three for the Stiles? Score three for the Stiles!

“So...he yours?”

Derek nodded, a fond gaze directed to Sirius followed. “Yeah. All mine.”

“Where's his mom?”

“In prison. Where she belongs.”

“Ouch. Well, if that's where she belongs, then good. Sirius here doesn't need that kind of bad influence.”

Derek gave Stiles this look. A look that questioned why Stiles didn't ask about his son's mother. Or at least any further. And Stiles wanted to. He really did. But he felt like this was one of those times he needed to put a cap on his overwhelming curiosity. Especially with something that sounded this serious.

“So, how old is the future badass wizard?” he asked, changing the topic quickly.

Tension bled out of Derek, and he smiled as bright as the sun. “He's about five months.”

“Wow! Five months!” Stiles brought his attention back to Sirius, who was staring at him like he was waiting to have the attention returned. “You're such a big boy! Pretty soon, you'll be driving and picking up chicks! Or dudes!”

Sirius giggled, leaning forward in the highchair and slamming his hands down repeatedly.

“Or maybe just collect dogs and cats. Or birds and lizards. Or hamsters and fish. Or rats and guinea pigs. Sometimes pets are way better.”

Sirius giggled more, a little drool slipping out of his gummy smile. Stiles laughed at that, taking a napkin from his table and wiping up the dribble.

“You're really good with kids.” noted Derek.

“Yeah, well, I love them. They're cute. I mean, they can be nightmares, but I still love them.”

“Most people your age don't think like that.”

“Most people my age aren't as intelligent and ambitious as I am. I really fit my Slytherin traits. Minus the shrewd part. I don't even know how to be shrewd. Or maybe I am and don't realize it.”

“Slytherin, huh?” Derek leaned back in his seat, smirking. “Hufflepuff.”

“Dude! No way! You heard that Slytherins and Hufflepuffs are supposed to be the best of friends?!”

“I've heard.”

“Slytherpuffs for the win! Or, as my mom likes to call them, Honey Snakes.”

At this, Derek let out a loud, sunshine laugh. Made Stiles' heart swoop right into his gut. Especially when Sirius joined in, sounding hysterical and gripping at the highchair.

Stiles, for lack of a better term, might be fucked.

~+~

Apparently, Stiles was still a sucker for hot advanced photography class peer. Maybe it was because Sirius' inhumanly pretty father was far out of his league. Like, beyond out of it. So out of it that even if Stiles waltzed right up to him with every quote of love he could muster, and every promise of happiness, and confessing his undying affection for little Sirius...he would still be way bellow the bar of what was in Derek's league.

Which is why Stiles was stupid enough to accept a do-over date with his classmate.

Which he regretted almost five seconds in.

His date thought that rock climbing at the state park was a great idea for a make-up date. A superb idea, actually. Because he would not shut up about it the entire ten minutes it took to drive there. And once they were scaling the wall, Stiles huffing and puffing and swearing profusely under his breath, his date had the gall to invite him for Netflix and Chill after a few rounds on the wall.

Mr. Nice I'll Give You A Second Chance Guy went right over the edge of the wall, and became a splat of goop on the ground.

“Are you serious right now?” Stiles spat, gripping tightly at the colorful and fake rocks.

“What?” his date asked dumbly.

“Netflix and Chill? Really?”

“Well yeah. Do you not like the idea?”

“I would...if it was actually watching Netflix and chilling out on the couch with snacks! Not you, again, trying to get into my fucking pants!”

“Hey!” called the person in charge of the wall from bellow. “There are kids here!”

Stiles glanced down, so not in the mood for any of this shit. “Bite my ass!”

The coordinator, or whatever he was called, gawked at him in horror, while those around him either scowled or snickered. Stiles' date scoffed above him.

“What the hell's wrong with you, dude?”

Stiles opened his mouth to answer, to hiss and curse at this bastard for making him think that he was actually going out with Stiles for more than just sex. Scream it to the heavens so everybody knew what this dick was all about.

But a blessing came.

And that blessing was Derek, walking a bike next to the wall, wearing bike shorts and a tight fitting tank. He was a marvelous site to see from where Stiles was. But nothing could compare to seeing little Sirius. Who was sitting in a neon blue bike carseat, wearing baby sunglasses in the shape of a wolf and a snapsuit that covered up his sensitive arms and legs. And...

“OH MY GOD! HE HAS A TINY BIKE HELMET!”

Of course that caught the attention of everyone nearby. And Sirius noticed him before Derek did. That loud squawk of joy proved it. Derek looked up at the wall, immediately breaking out into a knee destroying grin. He waved at Stiles, while his son smacked his knees repeatedly in excitement. Stiles, the best he could, waved back enthusiastically. Almost fell off the damn wall.

He was certain his date was saying something. Probably along the lines of how Stiles was being distracted by a baby again. But, alas, Stiles was distracted by little Sirius. Again. So, in order to make sure he didn't cause bodily harm to himself, he reclined down the wall. Nearly tripped over himself as he tried to get the equipment off, ecstatic to see Sirius and Derek again.

Especially since he had been thinking about them for days.

Once free, he raced over to them, instantly gripping the sides of the carseat and making noises at Sirius. The tyke screeched happily, keeping his shaking fists close to him. Stiles stuck his tongue out, blowing raspberries. Sirius did the same back.

“Fancy seeing you here.” teased Derek fondly.

Stiles snorted, smirking at the single father. “I'm starting to wonder if you have Stiles Is Having A Bad Date I Must Intervene With My Child senses.”

Derek quirked his brows up, saying a lot more than his words did. “Bad date?”

“Bad date.”

“Same guy?”

“Same guy.”

“Mmmm. Trying to make it up to him? Or is he trying to make it up to you?”

“Well, he was supposed to make it up to me. But then he offered Netflix and Chill. So...needless to say...bad date.”

“What's wrong with watching Netflix and relaxing on the couch or bed with snacks?”

Oh, pure innocence. This man just went up yet another level out of Stiles' league. “Unfortunately, the meaning doesn't translate to that anymore. It means Netflix and Sex, basically.”

Derek wrinkled his nose, as if someone had shoved something rotten in his face. “That doesn't make sense.”

“I know! Really sucks 'cause, dammit, I wanna actually Netflix and actually Chill!”

“Baaaaaaah!” Sirius interjected, now grabbing at one of Stiles' fingers and trying to insert it into his mouth.

“That's right, future wizard! It sucks!”

Sirius grunted, fighting hard to get that finger into his mouth. His father laughed lightly, shoving a binky into his mouth instead. Sirius didn't look the least bit amused, but he took it for what it was worth and just kept Stiles' finger captive. Not like Stiles minded. It kept him away from his very bad date.

“Well, if you want to leave, I was thinking about returning the rental and going out for lunch...” said Derek shyly, ears tinted pink.

Next to Sirius and all other babies in the universe, Stiles decided right there and then that Derek's ears going pink was the cutest thing ever created. So was the shyness. There was no reason for it, since the last time they saw each other they talked for hours on end while making faces and/or noises at the five month old. But it was endearing as hell. So, so endearing.

Stiles slumped dramatically, sighing with relief. “Oh my god, yes! Please take me away from here.”

The single father beamed, ducking his head slightly. “Your wish is my command.”

Oh yeah. Stiles was beyond screwed.

~+~

Life was unfair to him.

Just...so unfair.

Not only had Stiles not bumped into Sirius and Derek since the rock wall date (thank you midterms), but he was swindled into a third date with his classmate. How he was swindled? Oh, it was fairly easy. His so called friends wanted to do a group date, which Stiles agreed to. Group dates could be fun! But what he didn't know, until he arrived to the club with the other half of the group already waiting for them, was that advanced photography classmate was going to be there. And that his friends basically shoved Stiles at him.

He was getting new friends after this.

Fuck them. Fuck them hard. With a cactus.

The minute they entered the club, which was a poor place for a group date, by the way, Stiles stormed away from the group. Right to the bar. If he was going to be stuck here with these dillweeds, he was going to drink like it was going out of style. No dancing. No socializing. Just drinking till he felt wasted, then he was calling a cab to take his drunk ass home. He didn't trust what these assholes would do if he allowed them to 'take care of him' while drunk. Probably toss him over to advanced photography peer and allow him to do whatever he wanted to Stiles.

The very thought made Stiles sick to his stomach.

He made himself very cozy at the bar almost instantly, telling the bartender what was up. She gave him a look of pity, volunteering to call him a cab when she felt he had had enough and would escort him herself to the cab when it came. Even told the other bartenders that Stiles was going to be the only customer she would serve until he went home. That...had to be the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. He breathed out his thanks, to which earned him an adorable smile in return.

She was plain adorable, really. With her little Spirited Away dress and hair tied up into several braids.

(He wasn't going to flirt with her, though. She had a ring. He respected that kind of shit.)

As the night lagged on, he was fortunate that his 'date' barely bothered him. Just came over from time to time, asking if he was ready to dance yet. Each time, Stiles said no. And the bartender, who he learned was named Kira, would glare thunderbolts of death towards the dude. Advanced photography classmate would always huff and pout and stomp off, obviously not used to being told no at a club. But he should be used to Stiles blowing him off. This would be the third time now.

Sadly, Sirius or his dad weren't there to save him.

But Kira was! And Kira was super nice. And a great listener. Maybe a bit of an enabler whenever he would pour out poetry about Sirius and Derek. Especially when he lamented about the fact that he was not remotely close to Derek's league.

“I bet you are. I mean, he lets you near his kid. No guy, or girl, who has a kid would allow someone not in their league to be near their kid. Especially a five month old.”

At this point, Stiles was definitely a little spent. He was swaying slightly on the stool and smiling like a dope. “Really? You think tho?”

“Of course! That is such a young age for a child to be around a stranger. He must really trust you to have you around his son. Especially if the mother is behind bars.”

Huh...Stiles never really thought of that before. Maybe it was because he had only interacted with Sirius and Derek a few times, or his borderline crippling self-doubt, that made him feel that he was nowhere near Derek's league. Maybe he was in Derek's league. And that would mean he would be able to hang around Sirius and Derek all the time! Or, well, most of the time, but still a lot of the time!

Kira was definitely a horrid enabler.

“Okay, you know what?”

The new voice made Stiles groan, his rising happy mood flattening. He turned around to face his so-called date, sourness consuming his face. His date looked furious. Scary furious. For a split second, Stiles felt like he may be in danger. Even with Kira to back him up, who had told him that she used to be a Mixed Martial Arts competitor, he was spooked. He quickly tensed himself up, ready to fight back if he had to.

“What?” he spat back, defiance in his stare.

His 'date' grabbed him by the wrist, yanking him off the stool. Stiles near about screamed, startled by the strength. His heart sped up and all thought process went out the window. He could feel the alcohol lowering his abilities to stand straight and to think properly on how to respond.

He suddenly became incredibly terrified for his life.

“You are going to dance with me. And you're going to dance with me right now.”

The force behind the voice only made Stiles that much more scared. He pulled back, his panic fueling him now. Which was still spotty because of the alcohol.

“N-no!” he tried to say forcefully, but it more or less came out like a terrified child.

His 'date' yanked him again, trying to drag him to the dancing floor. Stiles screamed, attempting poorly to pull away. He could see Kira rushing up to him, ready to help with this assassin glare plastered in her dark eyes. He could also see a lot of other people starting to notice the commotion. So he screamed louder and fought harder, hoping that it would deter this creep and maybe Kira could avoid kicking anyone's ass.

Then, something happened that Stiles did not expect.

Just as Kira approached, fists poised to go, with this jerk raised his own fist to her...someone grabbed at his wrist, holding it in place.

And that person was Derek.

“H-hey! I know you!” Stiles' drunk mind supplied.

Derek gave him a terse smile before twisting advanced photography peer's arm behind his back. The guy cried out, clearly surprised and not happy.

“Hey! Get off me!”

“Let go of Stiles. Now.”

Derek's voice made Stiles' blood run cold. But it was also a bit of a turn on.

(Okay, he was drunk enough.)

Stiles' 'date' spat on Derek's face, which earned gasps from the small crowd that had accumulated around them. Somewhere from that crowd, a woman shouted, “Kick his ass, Der!” And, well, Derek obliged.

He took the creep's other wrist, twisting it away from Stiles and forced behind the back. Then, Derek kneed him in the gut. Advanced photography peer doubled over, swearing with venom. Again, Derek kneed him...right before he handed off the guy to Kira. And Kira went to town before tossing him over to the bouncers. Stiles' 'friends' raced off after the bouncers and his 'date', arguing that Kira and Derek were in the wrong.

Once it was all done, Stiles gawked at Derek like he was some sort of supernatural being. Which, to be honest, the dude had to be! He kept showing up whenever Stiles was having a bad time with his classmate! Maybe he had a sixth sense. A Stiles focused sixth sense.

“You okay?” Derek asked him, swimming in worry.

Stiles nodded, a little disoriented. “Where's your little guy?”

“Stiles...I can't take Sirius to a club.”

“I know..but where is he? I miss 'im.”

At this, Derek ducked his head to hide his smile. But Stiles saw it. There was no way that could be hidden from the Stiles!

“I'll call him a cab, Der.” offered Kira, patting the single father's shoulder.

“Waaaait...you know Derek?”

“I would hope so. I'm his sister-in-law.”

So that's why she was being an enabler! Sneaky sneaky lady. Like a fox.

“It's okay, Kira. I'll take him home. I'm the designated driver for Erica's bacherlorette party, anyway.”

“Is there enough room?”

“I drive a minivan.”

Kira nodded, the words 'good point' lingering in the air. “Well, I'll leave him to you, then.”

“Thanks, Kira.”

“Yeah! Thanks Kira! You're badass!” Stiles echoed, grinning like a dope again.

She bowed, smiling giddily as she pretty much skipped to the bar.

And that's all Stiles remembered. Besides the throwing up near Derek's shoes and passing out.

Next thing he knew, he was being woken up by baby babbles and a tiny hand touching his face. He groaned, trying to get himself put together before opening his eyes. Which was not happening. Not with a splitting headache and stomach flips.

“Sirius...you have to leave Stiles alone, champ.”

Wait...was that Derek's voice? Stiles opened his eyes, his sloppy mess of a self be damned, to see if he was having hallucinations of some kind. Nope. Not any hallucinations. That was Derek, looking so warm in his sweats and burgundy thumb hole sweater, crouching down to scoop up his son away from Stiles. Sirius squawked in protest, making grabby hands at Stiles. The farther he got away from Stiles, the louder Sirius got. Right until the point he started to wail.

“Shhh...Sirius...Stiles is sickie. We have to let him sleep.”

Sirius did not like the explanation, his wailing turning into infuriated cry-screams. Which hurt both Stiles' head and heart. He sat up, feeling dizzy and groggy. Derek noticed immediately that Stiles was awake, and looked ready to apologize for his son. But Stiles didn't let him. Just held out his arms – telling the father that Sirius was more than okay to be near him. Sirius got louder, almost flying out of Derek's hold in order to get to Stiles. Luckily, Derek was a bit more coordinated than that and passed off his son without a tumble.

The very second the little guy was in Stiles' arms, he smothered his face into his shoulder and calmed down. He sniffled here and there, accompanied by bitty hiccups. It was the cutest! It also made Stiles fall in love just a little bit more with this kid.

“He really likes you...” breathed Derek, face soft and vulnerable.

Stiles smiled, rocking the little guy back and forth carefully. “Yeah, well...I really like him. So...”

Derek nodded, looking that much more vulnerable.

Shockingly, Sirius fell asleep on Stiles, which meant that Stiles was not going anywhere. Might as well make some small talk.

“Um...so...this is your place.”

Derek flinched, guilt crossing into the vulnerable. “I...you...you said you didn't want to go back to your place. You were...worried about that guy attacking you in the middle of the night.”

“Mmm...makes sense. I mean...he did scare the hell out of me. I seriously thought he was going to hurt me. At least...I think so. A lot of last night is a blur. Guess that's what happens when you wallow your anger in booze.”

“That'll do it.”

A hesitant, awkward silence fell over them. Only Sirius' breathing filling the room. Then, Derek sat down beside them, staring fondly at his boy.

“He never does that with anyone except me. He won't even do that with his aunts, or his uncle, or my parents.”

“Really? Huh. Guess I'm special.”

“Guess so.”

The silence fell over them again, this time not so awkward. Still hesitant! But not awkward. Then, without any prompting, Derek started leaning in. Stiles leaned in as well. And, before they knew it, they were kissing. Not anything heated or passionate. Just...soft, gentle, sweet, quiet exploring. It was the best kiss Stiles had ever had. So much emotion...so much...trust. He felt like this was some type of honor and he had to respect it whole heartily.

And he would.

He definitely would.

As Derek pulled away, Stiles unconsciously chased. That earned him a kiss on the forehead and a hand running down his arm carefully. It was all so mind blowing. He was half certain that he was in some sort of dream. But Sirius shifting slightly in his hold told him that it wasn't. That it was all very real, and very amazing.

(Amazing was not a strong enough of a word, but that was the best he could think of.)

“Wow...” he whispered, staring deep into Derek's gaze.

Derek grinned like the sun, staring just as deeply into Stiles' eyes. “Yeah. Wow.”

“I, uh, you, you free Friday?”

“Well...I think I can work something out. I'll have to see if someone can watch Sirius for the night.”

“What? No! Bring him! I love star wizard!”

Derek gaped at him, stunned as all hell. “Are-are you sure?”

“Uh, yes? I know that dating you means dating your kid, in a way. And I would love to get to know you two better. Especially Sirius 'cause, no offense, I have fallen in love with your kid. Not in a creeper way! Just...y'know...”

“Stiles...I know what you mean. And thank you. For caring about my son.”

“Of course. I'm not a total douche.” He swallowed, laying back against the cushions. “Now...if you excuse me...I gotta try not to puke all over your kid...”

Derek rolled his eyes, patting his shoulder as he stood. “I'll get you some Coke and crackers.”

“Oh my god, you're a saint.”

“I do my best. And Stiles? Don't puke on my son.”

“I'll try.”

~+~

Their first official date was at the very restaurant they met at. And a lot of it was spent making Sirius giggle and squeal. They did learn some things about each other, but a lot of their attention was directed at Sirius.

The next time they went to that restaurant, it was for Sirius' second birthday. During that little party, Derek and Stiles' families teased them about being together for so long that Sirius was calling Stiles papa. Which wasn't a lie. No matter how many times they tried to correct Sirius, Sirius refused to call Stiles anything other than papa. So, with Sirius' help, Derek sought to fix it with a proposal.

It wasn't until Sirius' third birthday that they went to the restaurant again.

Their family and friends nearly took up the whole place in the celebration, filling the air with joyful noise. As they ate, Stiles announced that he had a very important question for the birthday boy and Derek. It became uncharacteristically quiet, everyone confused.

He didn't leave them in suspense long. That would be too cruel.

He got down on his knees, making it so Sirius was looking down on him. Then, he asked if it was okay if he adopted Sirius – become his official papa instead of step-papa.

“But you are my papa.” Sirius replied simply, like it was such a silly thing to think that Stiles was anything but.

The innocent response caused everyone to sob. Especially Derek, who was so overwhelmed with emotions that he could only nod his approval.

When they came again, Sirius bragged to anyone that would listen that his papa had adopted him and that his name was Sirius Stilinski-Hale.

Also that he was daddy's star and papa's wizard. Because, honestly, he was.

He really was.

[ofherstory-blog]

will you do all those multimuse questions i reAliZe it"S a lot BUT

not even gonna bother linking this bc SOMEONE wants the WHOLE MEME. basing everything on their main verses, or else shit’ll get wild!!

Which muses have their driver’s license?

teddy probably has one because hermione urged them to teach him just in case! spencer, aria, and alison (though she got hers later, thanks to being on the run for years) also definitely have theirs! aida and sophia are nyc brats, so they probably didn’t get theirs until the summer before they had to leave for college – before that, it was public transportation all day every day. and last but not least, so do juliet, kimberly, and aurelia!

And how many can drive stick shift

spencer definitely learned “just in case.” so did aurelia. they’re the only ones.

Which muse would make the best parent?

i mean, narcissa is canonically, for all her other flaws, a fucking incredible mother. so.

Which muse cries the most?

juliet, probably. my werewolf baby is a big softie!! though she’s probably the type to cry when good things happen more than bad ones - like at emotional scenes in movies, hearing good news from someone she loves, etc. etc.

Which muse never cries?

narcissa. never in public, anyway. i imagine she did more often as a child, but now even in private she’s the foundation of her family, so she rarely – if ever – breaks down.

Which muse is the most ticklish?

to be honest, i just really want louise to secretly be suuuuper ticklish. it’d be a riot.

Which muse is the best singer?

i headcanon that sophia has a similar voice to one of her fcs’ (kim yongsun), so i guess it’d be her! she’s also the one with the most formal music training, so there’s that too haha.

Which muses live on their own? (Don’t live with their parents anymore.)

 making “parents” into “guardians” bc some of their parents ARE DEAD, but anyway!! all the liars as of their tv canon, narcissa, gabrielle (though when she is technically home she’s with her parents, but she’s mostly on the road with xena so it counts), aida, sophia, and aurelia!! i think kimberly lives with the other witchy babes?? though aurelia’s kinda sorta her guardian i guess so idk how much it counts.

Which muse is the bravest?

consistently brave? i’d say gabrielle. i mean, the series starts with her picking up and following after xena – and she never runs and hides after that. not even once that i can remember. she’s bleeding-heart, idiotically brave, and i love her for it.

Which muse is the biggest scaredycat?

probably juliet, which is ironic given that she’s my only muse literally born supernatural lol. but none of them are huge scaredycats so it’s not saying too much, she’s just the softest child.

Which muse is best at sports?

spencer is basically my only athletic one, and she’s damn good at every sport she does too.

Which muse is the smartest?

it’s a toss-up. i’d say spencer has the strongest book smarts, sophia is the most well rounded (book smarts + artistic prowess + social smarts), and louise just has these insane genius plots ALL THE TIME. imagine if she put that effort toward something else, damn.

Which muse is the dumbest?

she’s not actually dumb by any stretch of the imagination, but… bless her lil heart, riley sometimes reminds me of a puppy chasing its own tail.

Which muse has the biggest dick?

i mean, teddy is the ONLY one with a dick (even if only some of the time), so he kinda wins by default lmao

Which muse has the biggest breasts?

i guess alison?? which feels weird to say because sasha was actually like twelve when she started working on pll, but she’s not any more and it definitely shows lmao.

Which muse is the strongest?

physically? juliet, definitely. she never uses it, but being a werewolf gives her an immediate edge over everyone else. after her, probably gabrielle! and mentally, i’d say narcissa.

Which muse is the weakest?

physically louise, just because she’s a tiny child! but at (almost) adult size, probably riley. mentally… possibly dawn?? as a teen anyway, i think she fortifies a bit as an adult lmao. and louise can definitely dish it out but not take it, so there’s that too.

Which muses need glasses to some extent? (All the time/for reading, etc.)

i headcanon that louise ends up taking after the other belcher girls later on, and needs glasses for nearsightedness (though more mildly, like linda) as an adult. she probably fights the notion until she finds herself squinting to see basically EVERYTHING, and tina gives her a pep talk about it too lmao. spencer needs them for farsightedness, but ends up switching to contacts in high school. sophia has extremely mild nearsightedness, and only ever uses her glasses during lectures/meetings to read the board. dawn spends so much time squinting over ancient text in dark rooms that she ends up needing reading glasses before hitting thirty.

Which muses have sent nudes before?

alison sent a lot when she was younger, but hasn’t really since she had to flee. aria sends tasteful ones, like with flowers over the nipples and artsy farsty shit like that. aida sends the most of the bunch, including to jordan for opinions on them! kimberly and spencer both have, but to only a select few people. dawn’s probably “sent” one or two to be rebellious, but just to janice.

Which muses are left-handed?

in my ideal world THEY ALL ARE (can you tell i’m a lefty?). but in reality, only kimberly is.

Which muses prefer bathing over showering?

alison never could relax for anything longer than a quick shower while she was on the run, and spent more days grimy than she’d live to admit. she definitely doesn’t take bathing for granted any more. juliet particularly enjoys bubble baths. aurelia also enjoys baths, but she can’t always find the time between watching over three rebellious witches to draw them.

Which muses belong to a religion?

alison and spencer were both raised christian. alison still somewhat believes (though her faith has diminished quite a lot over the years), spencer doesn’t. riley’s family is loosely christian. sophia’s family is a mix of catholic and buddhist, and she finds them interesting from a philosophical standpoint, but doesn’t really believe either one. kimberly and aurelia are both pagan witches. gabrielle has literally met the greek gods, so… i guess that makes her kinda polytheistic?

Which muses bite their nails?

it’s a bad habit of spencer’s, for sure. it’s a stress reliever that she mostly curbed as she got older, but sometimes when she’s not paying attention it still slips out.

Which muses can’t ride a bike?

louise only rides a tricycle, so there’s that. i feel like she’d be in denial about ever having to switch to a bike too, so it’ll likely stay that way for a while! gabrielle also can’t, but i don’t think bikes were really a thing in ancient greece anyway lmao.

Which muses can change a tire?

aida. teddy also can (thanks again, hermione) both magically and manually.

Which muse is the clumsiest?

dawn, definitely. it gets better as she ages, but as a teenager that girl really is all limb.

And which is the most elegant?

100% narcissa. that girl was literally bred to be elegant.

Which muses are parents?

narcissa, and alison if you count her current pregnancy. gabrielle technically has her weird half-demon daughter (and kinda eve too), but i like to pretend that arc never happened.

Which muses speak another language than English? Which language(s)?

sophia was born in korea, so she actually learned korean before english! she also knows french, minimal spanish and asl, and some japanese. spencer is a crazy polyglot who knows french, italian, german, and some mandarin chinese. aida grew up both signing asl and speaking since her sister is deaf. she also knows a little korean and some spanish! juliet was born in canada, and knows decent conversational french from her mother. kimberly was raised speaking some japanese, so she can also hold a decent conversation. she knows some latin as well! aurelia’s more advanced than kimberly, so her latin is basically fluent. dawn also learns latin as a junior watcher, but in her main verse she only speaks english! in theory, gabrielle’s technically only speaking greek, but she’s still monolingual.

Which muses can cook?

spencer, alison, aria, sophia, aida, juliet, AURELIA, GABRIELLE, kimberly. i don’t know if dawn’s weird-ass concoctions count as cooking, per se, but they’re certainly something edible.

Which muses rely on frozen dinners and take-out?

teddy, probably. louise and riley on the rare occasions that their respective parents aren’t around. narcissa eats classier than that, but house elves have made her food for literally all her life, so she’d probably flounder a bit at first on her own.

Which muses can play an instrument?

sophia literally went to school for this, so let’s start with her! her major was for the piano, so that’s what she’s best at. but she’s also dabbled with some other instruments, including cello, flute, french horn, and guitar! spencer also plays the piano, as well as aria very occasionally. jessica made alison take piano lessons up until her disappearance, but she hated them and never plays any more. teddy’s tried multiple instruments, but none of them ever stick. louise can play a mean cup-and-straw solo alongside gene’s keyboard.

[suranflower]

70 questions

I was tagged by @namjooneh thank you!! 💜 01: do you have a good relationship with your parents? yes 02: who did you last say “i love you” to?  My father probably 03: do you regret anything? I try not regretting anything, that's my philosophy. You already did it, there's no use in regretting, the important thing is you learn the lesson 04: are you insecure? Yeah 05: what is your relationship status?  Single 06: how do you want to die?  In a gas scape -you fall asleep and don't feel anything 07: what did you last eat? Toasts with butter 08: played any sports? Yeah... 09: do you bite your nails?  Nope 10: when was your last physical fight? Does it count if it's with my brother and/or just for training purposes in a kendo course? 11: do you like someone?  You could say so 12: have you ever stayed up 48 hours?  No, but almost. Like I slept four hours in between lol 13: do you hate anyone at the moment?  I try not hating on anyone but I'm so close to hating one person... 14: do you miss someone? Yes 15: have any pets?  A lovely dog! 16: how exactly are you feeling at the moment?  I have period cramps rn 😅 17: ever made out in the bathroom?  Sorta 18: are you scared of spiders?  No lol 19: would you go back in time if you were given the chance?  Probably... But you're asking me today, and today's answer is no. If you ask me again tomorrow I might say yes. I'm just like that 😂😂 20: where was the last place you snogged someone? Looool it was ages ago. Well, maybe not ages ago but at least four months 21: what are your plans for this weekend?  It's five days ahead how can I know? 22: do you want to have kids? how many? I'm still debating about this question. I know that if I have children I will adopt one kid and that will be it for me 23: do you have piercings? how many?  only earrings 24: what is/are/were your best subject(s)?  It was English and Spanish in High school. Last semester it was Classic sociology and Social psychology 25: do you miss anyone from your past?  Yes 26: what are you craving right now?  Fried chicken and cookies 27: have you ever broken someone’s heart?  I might? I'm not sure. I def broke someone's ego 😂 28: have you ever been cheated on?  No 29: have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?  No 30: what’s irritating you right now?  Fucking period cramps and not being sleepy when it's 3:30 am 31: does somebody love you?  Fortunately yes :) 32: what is your favourite color?  All. Lately I go for blue a lot 33: do you have trust issues?  I'm quoting @namjooneh 's answer: "who doesnt in this society" 34: who/what was your last dream about?  i can't remember but I'm pretty sure about three things: a) there was a cut in the dream, like it was actually two dreams and not one? b) my aunt wanted to borrow a black skirt for me because we all had to dress in black for some reason and c) I'm 97% sure Jungkook appeared at some point 35: who was the last person you cried in front of?  Almost did in front of my bff but other than that, idk 36: do you give out second chances too easily?  Depends 37: is it easier to forgive or forget?  forgive, no doubt 38: is this year the best year of your life?  We just started but I have the strong feeling it won't 39: how old were you when you had your first kiss?  18 🙈 40: have you ever walked outside completely naked?  No. I've been completely naked in my own garden and walked a bit around there but... Doesn't really count 51: favourite food?  I love food in general 52: do you believe everything happens for a reason? no 53: what is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?  Shower my dog lol 54: is cheating ever okay?  I'd say that, IN GENERAL cheating is not ok. But honestly? You don't know what happens to people, you don't know what kind of problems -or not problems- a couple has so I think it's different in every case and it's not my saying to make such a statement 55: are you mean?  I am sometimes. And I'm working on it, I don't want to be mean 56: how many people have you fist fought?  One. It wasn't fists exactly because we kicked each other but... Yeah. 57: do you believe in true love?  No. I believe you can truly love someone and not just romantically ofc but I don't believe in this stereotypical romantic thing called ~true love~ Does the answer make sense? 58: favourite weather?  Spring and early Autumn 59: do you like the snow?  Some snow is fine 60: do you wanna get married? No 61: is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? Spanish for baby is "nena" and I can accept it jokingly with (close) friends and relatives maybe. But if a boy calls me like that I'll punch him very hard with zero regrets. And of course no stranger at all, I'll burn with rage... 62: what makes you happy?  Listening to the music I like, dancing, writing, having good dreams, hanging out and laughing with friends, watching movies with my family 63: would you change your name?  Not really 64: would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?  Last person I kissed was my dad a few hours ago, so it'd be easy. Now, if you mean kissing in another way... Yes it'd be 65: your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?  I think that we kinda sorta had a phase like that when we started to know eaxh other. But nothing happened. So I'd be the same now. We just can't see each other as anything else than friends, not even when we had that strange phase 66: do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?  All of them. If not, they're not true friends lol 67: who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?  my litle brother 68: who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?  My bff -I have two girl besties, and I always refer to one as my "best friend" and to the other as my bff and then I call my male bestie who I call "best friend" too or "my boy" lol. 69: do you believe in soulmates?  Mmm... 70: is there anyone you would die for?  Yes. Only one I tag: @fyhjjxxn @chlexcer @seventeen-24 @yoongivesmehope @princess-infinity @narcissisthyeyeon you don't have to do it if you don't want to 💕💕