#yes the second one is kind of a fever dream I had after being severly sleep deprived

[delirious-and-slightly-murderous]

Oh friend you've so many exciting WIPs but please tell me about The Color of Corn and The Nightmare Before Christmas!! 💕✨

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Wow okay so, first The Nightmare before Christmas. This one is kinda a 2x1. As it happens with some of my WIPs when I have 2 stories from the same idea I just put them in the same file. And whichever picks my interest most wins and gets written. (If I do write it that is😅). So first is a pretty standar TNBC AU because well, Jack Skellington Andrés, that's why. Here's the snippet:

The wind howled as it collided with the cold stone of the tower.

Martín shivered despite not being cold. He felt queasy and anxious, he hoped he had calculated the dose of deadly nightshade right, he didn't want a repeat of last time.

He took his bag and balanced himself on the edge of the window, looking down at the darkness below. He wouldn't die, he couldn't but the doctor had been nice enough to make him capable of feeling pain. And it hurt, it hurt like nothing else did. 

He clutched his basket tighter and took a deep breath, thinking of a crooked smile and the moon reflecting on pearly white teeth. He needed to go out, to be free for at least a while. And seeing Andrés was worth the couple minutes of debilitating pain.

He closed his eyes and let go.

The impact with the ground was hard and painful. His mind whited out, scrambling his thoughts. All he was capable of was an incoherent tidal wave of 'hurts, hurts, HURTS, holly Satan's undies, it hurtsssss!'

Slowly, after an eternity of fire that stretched into the space of a minute, he became increasingly aware of himself. Everything burned and he felt all over the place. He opened his eyes to confirm and yes it was going to take a while. 

Thankfully one of his arms has stayed attached, which would make it all easier. He put his other arm back in place, and started the long and tedious process of retightening his seams and putting everything back in place.

By the time he was done, the pain had subsided into a dull all encompassing ache that he could push to the back of his consciousness. He checked his limbs one last time and started walking towards the town center. His body heavy and aching but his heart light and fit to burst.

He didn't notice his nose and left nipple lying half visible at the bottom of the tower.

(So yes that's part of it, it's a work in very slow progress🥴)

And then the other idea is basically a cracky Christmas fic. 

So the premise is that it's post mint (and maybe post bank too, idk), and the banda plus Martín are all living in the monastery or something. It's the day before Christmas and Martín's longing for Andrés gets so bad while watching him ignoring Martín and flirting with the women that he wishes he could have a life without Andrés and those pesky feelings of his and proceeds to get black out drunk. 

So next morning he wakes up and at first everything is normal and then bam! Andrés is nowhere to be seen, he is apparently married to SERGIO and they have KIDS! While all the rest is pretty much the same, he's still a criminal mastermind. 

So he's trying to figure out what the hell's going on and how to wake up from this nightmare when Christmas day comes around. And his husband's estranged brother shows up. His raging libertine and homosexual diva of a brother shows up. A brother Martín apparently HATES with all his heart. 

Oh and said brother, Andrés by the way if you had any doubts, not only shows up in the most mind boggling and gayest outfit, he doesn't come alone. He's accompanied by his two (2) boyfriends! A tall, tall and stoic man who goes by Marsella and a twink named Aníbal (who by the way one of his and Sergio's 'kids' can't stop flirting with). 

This is Martín's worst nightmare. He wants to wake up right now. Or possibly die, he's not picky.

Here's the snippet:

Martín was going crazy. That was the only possible explanation. He had finally drank too much wine and he was currently lying in some hospital bed in an ethylic coma. No other way around it.

Waking after getting so drunk to find himself in bed with Sergio was not at all what Martín had expected. And while he started silently panicking and trying to remember at which point of last night's drunken debauchery he had decided to pay Sergio a visit, the other man had woken up and smiled at him. 

Martín's brain had short circuited when Sergio, SERGIO, Andrés' nerdy librarian of a brother had kissed him. He had kissed him and pushed his very impressive morning wood (and who the fuck knew Sergio was so well endowed, Martín would be horny if it wasn't you know, Sergio) against him while simultaneously slipping a hand into the back of his pants and between his ass cheeks. 

Martín had become so impossibly rigid it felt like he would snap like a guitar string. When he was once again capable of movement, he had Sergio's tongue halfway down his throat and an insistent pointer finger pushing against his clamped up asshole. 

He had scrambled out of bed so hastily that he had almost cracked his skull open on the bedposts. Not saying anything before running to the bathroom like a soul out of hell. 

Hours later after the weirdest breakfast of his life where he finds out he and Sergio are apparently married and Andrés is nowhere in the picture, here he is. He went to sleep in the hopes of just actually waking up.

But apparently the universe is laughing at his misery. 

Because an undeterminded amount of time later, something wakes him and he immediately knows he's still trapped in this nightmare. He stays relaxed and doesn't open his eyes, hoping whatever it was that woke him will just go away.

"¡Papi!" 

Martín's breath dies inside his chest. Now there are a number of things wrong with what he just heard. First 'Papi' is not a word he often hears. If he does hear it, it normally comes from his own mouth in a much breathier tone while in the middle of much more interesting activities. And secondly if for whatever reason he somehow changed his preferences and it's his current partner calling him that, well it sure as hell wouldn't be in a female voice. 

His hysteric internal monologue is interrupted by another, this time distinctly male voice.

"Papi, wake up." 

That's when he notices that he knows those voices, they are familiar. He wonders what he did to deserve ending up in a hell like this. He would greatly prefer the stereotypical flames and eternal torture over this any day. He feels sick and holds back his nausea.

Finally he opens his eyes to come face to face with Tokio and Denver looking down at him.

"Hola papi, what a grumpy face, sorry for waking you. Papá said not to do it, but aren't you going to say hi to your kids?"

This time Martín doesn't hold back anything.

As he is expelling what feels like his whole stomach, he's distantly glad that he managed to be spectacularly sick all over Tokio's ugly shirt. 

(I've really got no excuse for this😅)

And finally the Color of Corn is a thingy I talked about here.

But you can have another snippet, this one goes immediately after the other one:

The sun is burning and ruthless. The air is wet and heavy, oppressing. The dense sheen of sweat covering his skin doesn't help with the stifling atmosphere, making him feel sticky and disgusting. Finally when his uncle decides to make a pause and rest, they've worked about half of the field. Martín feels ready to throw himself into a lake of freezing water, letting it consume him, dragging him down to the bottom like a dead carcass. He lost his shirt a while ago. He couldn't take the uncomfortable feeling of cloth rubbing against drenched skin anymore. He goes to sit at the back of the tractor, wincing at the touch of the scorching metal. Relaxing slightly as he eats soggy jam sandwiches and warm beer.

"You know you can go right?" His uncle asks, sitting beside him and looking at the horizon with dead and glassy eyes. "There is nothing stopping you from taking your things and fucking off. You aren't a kid anymore."

Martín stares at him thoughtfully, then he directs his glance to the faraway line where the sky meets the earth. There is nothing to see, just miles and miles of golden corn as far as the eyes can reach. Truth is Martín doesn't know how to answer. Logically he knows this, he is aware of it and has thought of leaving more than once. He's thought exactly that, taking his things and leaving. But he also knows he is never going to do it. He is utterly incapable of it. He doesn't know what he would do. His whole life all he's known is his little town in the middle of nowhere Argentina, and the golden shine of corn. And, even if he doesn't like to admit it, if he ever left he would be completely lost. As far as he can remember corn has always been present. His constant omnipresent companion. Want it or not, it's his life and always will be.

"Yes I know,'' comes his absentminded answer.

His uncle stares at him for a minute. His tired eyes seemingly looking for something.

"What happened to that friend of yours, Andrés was it?"

"What with him?" He says sharply, his tongue cutting, mimicking the exact feeling that name evoques.

"You two used to be attached at the hip and now it's been a while since I last saw him."

Martín has been trying to forget all about that. If he's being honest, he's not doing a great job of it. But Martín has never been terribly honest, not even with himself, and he's not going to start now, so he enjoys telling himself he is forgetting.

"That's because he's going back to Spain. Haven't seen him since he told me."

"Well, he's been calling you, did you know?" His uncle scratches at his beard. "You should call him back."

"I don't want to talk about this." That's not a lie, Martín really does not want to talk about Andrés, especially not with his uncle.

"You are aware both phones are connected right?"

Martín becomes rigid. "He's getting married."

"I can respect limits, but don't fool yourself like that." The older man shrugs and gets up to keep working.

Martín feels angry. His uncle doesn't understand. Couldn't possibly understand. Life is easy for a man like him. He wants to tell him to go to hell.

When finally his anger dies down, choked and overwhelmed by the infernal heat, Martín almost laughs at the recognition of his anger towards his uncle for what it truly is. The anger and spite of an immature kid when confronted with the ugly truth.

Martín knows that he's lying to himself. He just doesn't know about what.

When night falls, they go back to the farmhouse. His uncle goes straight to bed but Martín cannot fall asleep. He's bored of himself and his own mind. He goes out and lies down in one of the cornfields, feeling gravity press down on his chest. He falls asleep imagining the sea of corn rocking him gently.

Everything is dark, there isn't a single noise, not even from insects. The corn is still, not moving one bit, consumed by the darkness.

(I'm really proud of this one😊.)

So that's it. Wow this got long. Hope you liked it and thank you for asking friend.

🥰

(P.S: Did my ask reach you? I'm severely traumatised now😑)