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mwolf0epsilon · 6 years

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El plan de Ernesto y la promesa de Héctor

Summary: In which Coco comes across a small problem relating to her gigantic friend’s nightly visits, Ernesto begins plotting something quite nefarious in order to get rid of Hector once and for all, and Hector makes a promise that he might not be able to keep. Characters: Ernesto de la Cruz, Coco Rivera, Hector Rivera. Setting: Gashadokuro AU, inspired by @melcecilia14‘s posts [X] [X] [X] and a continuation of my own fics [X] [X] [X] [Things are starting to pick up on Ernesto’s side of the story. You can also read it on Ao3!]

—{Enjoy}—

There was no denying how much Socorro Rivera loved her two best friends, siblings Julio and Rosita. The two were always there for her, no matter the circumstances. She could talk to them about just about anything, be it her concern for the bitterness that steadily grew in her mamá’s heart with each passing day where her papá remained away from home, the anger she felt towards the older kids who relentlessly tormented her and made fun of her family, or even of just how much she missed her papá and how he’d sing to her every day and every night. Coco could recall whole afternoons where she’d confide to them the stories she could recall of better times. Those very few years of her life where mamá and papá would sing and dance and laugh like there was no care in the world… She’d tell them of the letters containing poems and songs, and decorated with small doodles Coco knew her papá had absentmindedly added to the paper, mind wandering away from body as he carefully considered his words, while also letting his imagination run wild. Her favourite doodle was that of a xolo puppy he’d seen on the streets one day. A cute little thing that had followed him around for a while, before tío Ernesto scared it off. Tío Ernesto really hated xolos, which was odd since he liked chihuahuas so much. Maybe it was because xolos didn’t have soft hair to pet? Regardless of his distaste, the puppy had caught her papá’s attention enough that he’d doodled it on the letter so that Coco could picture it perfectly.

Mamá didn’t much care for the drawing, or the letters, at least not anymore. Once upon a time, she would sit down with Coco and read them to her, and then carefully turn the paper so that she could see the drawing more clearly. Those had been the days where her mother still openly loved and missed her father, heart unmarred by bitter hatred that was fed daily by the gossip of housewives and preconseptuous nuns. Stories of her loving father leaving his family for fame and younger women, like kindling to a fire. Poisonous and vile falsities dreamt up by people who couldn’t keep their nose out of another’s lives and personal adversities. These were all things Coco confided to her dearest friends. She was never afraid to talk to them about matters that would otherwise be ignored and let to fester. There was, however, a topic that she didn’t really talk about with the two: Señor Esqueleto and his nightly visits.

In general, her gigantic skeleton friend was...Well, to put it lightly, a hard topic… Especially after what happened with Rodrigo Sanchez. The older kids kept their distance after the incident, but that didn’t mean they didn’t talk about it behind her back, focusing on what she’d claimed when she’d been trying to calm Rosita. She meant it of course, that Señor Esqueleto would never hurt someone on purpose. Just because he was bigger didn’t mean he was a bully, much less the monster they claimed he was. That was just loco! His gentleness was why Coco liked him so much! He could be just as terrible as Rodrigo and his friends, if not worse because of his size, and instead he went out of his way to be kind. Sure he was clumsy and that often caused trouble (He’d admitted to having derailed a train by accident, which was where those silly stories of a monster skeleton came from to begin with!) but he tried to fix his mistakes whenever he could. Still...As nice and caring as Señor Esqueleto was, how could she ever explain this to her friends? Her mamá and tíos didn’t believe her when she told them, nor any of the adults at the market for the matter, so could it be possible that Julio and Rosita wouldn’t either? Julio didn’t believe in magic and Rosita was easily startled, so making it seem like Coco wasn’t crazy, nor that the giant skeleton posed no threat, would be near impossible! But, then again, these were her best friends! They should believe her! They weren’t as closed minded as the adults in Santa Cecilia and she trusted them! So why did she feel so hesitant about sharing her secret with them? She didn’t know, but she’d have to reconsider this much sooner than she’d expected.

It was a calm afternoon in May. Three hours after lunch, while Coco was sitting besides her mother in the workshop, Imelda interrupted her shoe making lessons to bring her some news. “I spoke with Julio and Rosita’s parents this morning.” she said as she carefully set down her tools, moving to inspect the seams she’d completed on her latest project. A pair of riding boots. She was waiting for a response, if the delay in the topic was anything to go by. “You did?” Coco offered, peering up at her mamá with interest. It’s not that her mother and her friends’ parents didn’t talk often, far from it! It was more that they rarely did unless they were at the market or much later in the afternoon when the shop was closing. It was the only time they had, well, time to do so. “Yes.” Imelda replied after putting down the boot she’d been examining. She turned her attention fully towards Coco, a small smile on her lips. “It seems something’s come up and they need to go to the family ranch to deal with a few personal matters that will take at least two weeks to manage.” “Oh...Is everything ok? Is Julio’s and Rosita’s tía alright?” Coco frowned, worrying for the gentle old lady that had visited on the last Dia de Los Muertos. The one who’d given her and her friends a few homemade sweets under their parents’ nose. Dona Carmelita. A very sweet old woman. Coco hoped she hadn’t fallen ill after her husband passed. “Rest your head mija, Dona Carmelita is fine. This has to do with Señor Roberto’s passing. The family has to tend to his last will...However, because there will be no children attending, there was an issue with what to do with Julio and Roita.” This made Coco perk up. Julio and Rosita weren’t allowed to go? “Where will they stay if their mamá and papá are away?” She asked out of curiosity. This is when Imelda’s small smile seemed to grow. “Why, I’ve offered for them to stay at our house while their parents are away on business. That way, they will be looked after and I will be able to send a letter informing them that their children are in good health.” Coco couldn’t help beam at the idea as she listened to her mother. Julio and Rosita were going to be staying at their house for two whole weeks? That was amazing! They’d be able to do so many things together! The young girl was practically jumping for joy at the thought. “They get to sleep over? That’s great!” She cried out happily, which made her mother chuckle. “Indeed...Now, how about we stop your lesson for now and you go on and tell them the good news? I asked their parents to let you be the one to tell them.” “Thank you mamá!” Coco called out as she ran for the door.

How exciting! She’d get to hang out with her friends for two whole weeks! That was practically an eternity! They’d be able to have slumber parties and tell spooky fun stories and have all sorts of adventures! Nothing could ruin this for Coco! And that’s when it downed on her, halfway out the door, that at least ONE THING could actually spoil her fun… Señor Esqueleto...He visited every night and her two best friends were coming over to stay two week’s worth of nights in her room.That...Was going to be a massive problem. “....O-Oh no…” The youngest member of the Rivera family felt her heart drop. If her friend showed up during the night he might spook her best friends! And then they’d cause a lot of noise, and then mamá and her tíos would wake up, and then there’d be BIG TROUBLE for everyone. What was she going to do?!

---

Unbeknownst to the young and worried Coco, far away from Santa Cecilia in Mexico City, Ernesto de la Cruz was fretting over his own dilemma. It had been days since he last left the hotel room he’d holed himself in ever since his horrific encounter with the gigantic skeleton that he knew to be his deceased ex-partner, Hector Rivera. The event had shaken him so terribly that Ernesto hadn’t dared set foot outside, for fear of being found and cornered by the tremendously sized spirit that he was so certain was out looking for some revenge. This of course, was a huge setback for him. He’d just reached a very delicate stage in his musical career where he NEEDED to keep the public hooked. A stage where he couldn’t afford to become some crazy hermit holed up in an hotel room, mumbling insane stories about vengeful spirits the size of mountains. Or so his agent, Marcelo, insisted. “Ernesto it has been ages since you’ve last performed! If you keep this up, your fame will plummet faster than an acrobat with butterfingers!” Exclaimed the thin, wiry man, of physic that Ernesto found to be similar to Hector’s. He’d always found it morbidly fascinating to observe the man’s movements. More refined than that of his ex-best friend, but less heartfelt. He was less taller, his jawline less sharp, but the similarities were ironic in many ways. One would even say this was Ernesto’s way of showing he missed Hector, by mingling with people that reminded him of him...But no, Marcelo was nothing like his ex-partner in crime. Marcelo was much more conniving and clearly a money-grabber. A serpent masquerading as a gentle garden snake, ready to bite you if things didn’t work his way...Like now, where he disregarded Ernesto’s fears as soon as he smelled a weakness that could ruin them both. “You have to pull your weight amigo, or else there won’t be much of a future for you.” “I know Marcelo, I know! You've been hammering away at the topic for quite some time now amigo” He hissed, spitting the last world as if it were bile in his mouth. Hell would freeze over before he ever considered the greedy bastard as a friend. “But it’s just...I’ve taken ill, as you can see.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He’d made himself sick with worry just from the thought of those massive phalanges, and the rags covering up the ashen ribs, spine and pelvis. And those soul-piercing sockets that burnt with blinding yellow light... Ernesto looked terrible. Disheveled and pale, clothes in terrible need of a wash. He looked like he belonged out in the streets with the homeless instead of a lit up stage. “I can see that, yes.” Marcelo conceded as he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he looked him up and down. Those dark eyes of his infuriating Ernesto with their judging spark. “What I ask of you is that you get better faster!”

Ernesto rolled his eyes and turned to face away from his manager. He should have hired the other one, the short stubby man with the peg leg. At least he’d had less of an attitude. Still, hindsight cast aside, Ernesto did worry for what may happen to his career if he didn’t indeed get “better”. But how? How did one deal with a haunting on such a large scale? Going to church hadn’t helped at all. There were still stories of the beast roaming near the tracks, so any attempt to pray for protection and for Hector’s wicked soul to go away, hadn’t fixed the problem. Ernesto couldn’t afford to risk another encounter. He’d been lucky the last time, but who’s to say the odds would keep favoring him? What if the next time, it wasn’t the locomotive he crushed, but Ernesto’s compartment? A shudder ran down his spine as he thought about getting turned to canned soup by a gigantic skeleton foot. That was not a dignifying way to go… No, he refused to be an ant in the presence of his ex-best friend’s monstrous spirit. He’d won the first time after he’d pulled all the weight, he’d win again even with such terrible odds! Hector wouldn’t take his well deserved fame from him. Dead or alive. He’d just have to find the monster’s weakness, is all! In fairytales there was always the brave hero who killed the beast, always something to give him the upper hand. And, as Ernesto considered this, he got an idea of what might be the skeleton’s core weakness. “You know what...You’re right.” He said with a smirk as he turned to face Marcelo once more. The other seemed taken aback by the renewed vigor of his words. “How about this: You work with the PR team, pull some strings, do your magic and set up for my tour’s next grand destination. Then, in three weeks, I’ll be ready to be received by my adoring fans who’ve missed me so terribly after learning I was recovering from a terrible, most horrific illness that nearly took my life.” He circled around the other man, maintaining eye contact as he smiled and carried on explaining his idea. Marcelo seemed intrigued. “And then, after these three weeks of rumours and brilliant PR marketing have finished, BOOM. A set of posters with the exact location of my next concert.” He waved his hands with grandeur in his intent. Setting the image for his manager. “Ernesto de la Cruz! The Grand Homecoming Concert! Santa Cecilia’s greatest musician!” He span around and walked towards the window, right index finger tapping away thoughtfully on his chin. “Some words could be changed here and there... That artist who did my posters for that one concert in Mérida could be in charge of working on the finished thing, add some subliminal messages to entice the public... We’ve got ourselves a sensational comeback mí amigo…” And an opportunity to get rid of a few thorns in his side. Because if there was one thing that he knew was Hector’s weakness, it was those two girls of his. If he could make them, say, “mysteriously” disappear in some sort of terrible accident, then the monstrous ghost would follow them into the afterlife. That had to be the solution for all his troubles.

---

Coco was at a loss for what to do. She’d been forced to swallow down her worries when she’d gone to Julio and Rosita’s house to tell them about their parents’ plan. The two had been excited of course, unaware of their friend’s plight as her mind raced to come up with a solution for her problem. She would either have to tell them, or she’d have to figure out a way to keep them from seeing Señor Esqueleto. But the question now was how. How do you hide a colossal skeleton from someone? As she walked around town in deep thought, Coco pondered on this. It couldn’t be harder than hide and seek, right? Just make sure the “seekers” didn’t find the one hiding. But, then again, her larger friend wouldn’t be aware of the fact he needed to hide in the first place. No, trying to hide Señor Esqueleto wouldn’t work. The glow of his eyes would be a dead giveaway on it’s own. She’d have to tell them. There was no other way. Turning a corner that led to the market, Coco stopped in her tracks when she saw something up ahead. Another crowd, like the one from that day when Señor Sanchez yelled at her. The young Rivera girl gulped as she contemplated investigating the matter. Last time, when she’d gone to see what had caused the crowd to form in the first place, Coco had been saddened by the state in which the gigantic skeleton had left the fountain. She’d brought it to his attention that same night where she’d interrogated him, going so far as to mentioning how many fond memories she’d had of the fountain. He’d looked quite guilty, or as guilty as a skeleton could look, and admitted to having not been looking where he was going. And then the mess he’d made afterwards was caused when he’d crouched down trying to fix the fountain, only to bump into the stalls and damage them as well. In the end, he’d opted with leaving it as it was since he couldn’t seem to fix it without making it worse. Could it be her friend had once again made another huge mess?

Coco pondered on it for a while before shaking her head and moving off to head back home. She could worry about that later, no point risking another scene if Señor Sanchez was around. As she walked along, she listened to the murmurs of the crowd, stopping only when she heard the exchange between two ladies. “What a horrible sight...Do you really think Ricardo was right about hostile spirits?” One of the ladies asked the other, who was quick to cross herself and hiss at her friend under her breath just barely loud enough that Coco could hear. “Dios mío, cállate!” She scolded “The devil hears those who speak of his work!” “Cálmate, solo preguntaba.” The first woman sighed as she straightened the hem of her dress. “It just seems, impossible...” “I’ve seen the drunkards of Santa Cecilia, Silvia, its very likely that they probably caused the ruckus to begin with.” Said the one clutching at the beads of her rosary, seeming far too nervous to believe her own words. “You heard what the police said. They could barely understand what that man was saying...” Coco felt her heart drop into her stomach. The police were involved? What had happened the night before? “Pobre señor García...Su esposa estará tan molesta cuando llegue a casa, solo para descubrir que su esposo ha sufrido un gran susto!” “Pobre? No me hagas reír, Silvia! Ese hombre es un cerdo!” the woman with the rosary laughed, shaking her head at her friend. “Sí, aunque es trágico que Madalena regrese de visitar a sus familiares, sólo para descubrir por otros que su esposo ha sido institucionalizado, no se puede negar que su esposo no era un santo. En todo caso, esto es un castigo divino!” “Divine punish--Teresa! As distasteful as senõr García may be, no one deserves to be scared to the point of becoming a bumbling madman! You heard him screaming about the giant skeleton, that is no way for a kind woman like Madalena to see her husband!” At this point Coco moved on, not even daring to glance towards the crowd as she moved on. She was still worried about Julio and Rosita, yes, but she had at least one night before they came over. She needed to talk to Señor Esqueleto about his clumsiness. One thing was breaking a few stalls and a fountain. Another was scaring the town butcher to near death!

---

Marcelo had gone off to do just as Ernesto had told him, leaving the mariachi alone with his thoughts and schemes. That had to be it, Imelda and the girl, they had to be the key piece into getting rid of Hector once and for all. He just needed time to prepare, is all! Really, it was for the best. What right did the dead have to remain in the living world? None! It was unnatural, unprecedented, an abomination! Hector was an abomination! His presence an affront to mankind. He had to be dealt with. Not just because he didn’t belong among the living anymore, but also to protect Ernesto’s integrity and well-being. Just the knowledge that the monster was out there had nearly ruined him, and that simply wouldn’t do! Ernesto was in reality, quite appalled by all of this. He hadn’t been much of a believer of the paranormal. He’d gone to church like any good kid should and he’d even prayed every night just like his father told him he had to. But really, did going to church every sunday really account for much more than a few beliefs? The strength of a god felt comforting, but the possibility of hell had always frightened him silly as a child, until he realized how oddly absurd it all was. And then Hector had to ruin the small bliss he’d found in not believing all that bullcrap everyone talked about of the afterlife. Beliefs he’d been spoonfed as a child. And now he had to go back to that shithole of a town, Santa Cecilia, just to get this to stop. Only then would he be able to go back into a stable and comfortable life as a musician. Hector’s wife and daughter would ultimately pay the price for his insolence, but that was all for the best really. What could a temperamental widow like Imelda, or the stupid brat that had distracted his best friend so much, ever offer to the world? Nothing, that’s what! The only time Imelda had contributed even a little, was by having at least a decent taste in guitar designs. The white calavera guitar was a staple of Ernesto’s image as a musician, and that at least he owed Imelda. Not enough to spare her from his plan, of course, but just enough that he’d at least make her look decent in the eyes of the town after she tragically passed away. He’d bet even Hector would be grateful for a dignifying death for his wife. “You’d best content yourself with your familia, amigo...After all it’s all, it’s what you died trying to get in the end.” Ernesto muttered darkly to himself as he passed around the hotel room in search of some discrete clothing. He needed to consult the library about a few matters. It wouldn’t be good to ruin his PR campaign if people were to recognize him. But he couldn’t risk ruining his grand plan either. Asking about angry spirits would get him nowhere, but recorded accounts might prove his theory right.

---

At nightfall, after her mother tucked her in for the night and left to go to her room, Coco began to count the seconds. She knew to wait before her friend showed up, she also knew to be fairly patient in general despite being of such a young age. Tonight however, she was far too antsy to do so. As soon as she could no longer hear her mamá’s footsteps, little Coco flung her covers off and went to get her coat. Tonight she’d wait for him at the balcony. Seated out in the cold, as she waited for the giant skeleton, Coco couldn’t help let her gaze wander up into the stars. She remembered nights where her tired father would come sing to her their secret lullaby. In some of these nights, they would go out onto the balcony to sing beneath the stars. Then, when they were done, her papá would hold her and point out the constellations. Coco never asked if the ones he showed her were really constellations (“The Silly Xolo” wasn’t in any of the books that her uncles had on that particular matter, nor was there one called the “Giant Mariachi Hat”), but then again why should she have? She could still see what her father drew out in the sky for her and it felt all the more special that he’d not only written her a song just for her, but also that he’d make up star formations just to make her laugh. The memory alone made some of the anger Coco was holding onto, melt away. It gave way to sadness as she thought of her father and how his letters had stopped coming. Was he out there now? Maybe, looking into the stars like she was? Did he still sing her song, like she did? She knew he did, deep in her heart.

The small Rivera girl’s thoughts were interrupted as she felt the balcony tremble lightly in warning of her friend’s approach. The twin yellow lights came next, as Señor Esqueleto took notice of her almost immediately. He looked almost surprised to see her outside already in the cold. It was time to scold him. Standing up tall and putting her hands on her hips, doing her best impression of her mamá’s disapproving stance, Coco glared up into the blinding eye sockets. “You said you’d be more careful!” she started, noticing how her gargantuan friend’s surprised look crumbled into a guilty one. He knew what she was talking about, of course he did. “You scared someone badly! That’s not ok!” The giant skeleton rumbled softly in distress, before kneeling down to write in the dirt as he’d done for the past few nights whenever he needed to communicate with her. His writing was getting better too. It was looking less like chicken scratch and more legible. “It was an accident!” As if she hadn’t known that. “That doesn’t make it any less bad!” Coco replied, peering down at the reply from the edge of the balcony. Reading it upside down was a bit of a challenge, but she was getting the hang of it. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry” “It was even morning when you left...How did you get caught?” Coco frowned. He never stayed around so close to sunrise, so how had that happened? And why? “I don’t know.” Now that was silly. How could he not know how he got caught? He’d probably made some noise, or didn’t leave fast enough, or...Or anything really! Señor García could have been out for a late night walk for all she knew. She didn’t get to talk to him much, she didn’t like the smell of blood he carried because of his job. “I was going away but I stopped. I don’t know why.” Coco frowned as she watched him quickly erase the message to write another one. “I thought I hurt him by accident, but he was just screaming and screaming. I didn’t know what to do.” Her friend looked upset. She wondered just how badly he’d felt when he’d looked down and realized he’d frightened a person half to death. Probably not very good. It must have been a very scary experience...But speaking of of scary experiences... “I guess it wasn’t entirely your fault...But uh...You really have to be careful from now on! And uh, I have something I need to tell you.” Coco admitted, changing the subject so as to keep them both from dwelling on it for too long. Her friend looked upset enough that she didn’t need to tell him off for too long. “My best friends, Julio and Rosita, they’re going to stay over for two whole weeks...And uh, well, they don’t know about you.” If skeletons could blink, she was sure Señor Esqueleto would be doing so, as he stared at her with his head cocked slightly to the side in curiosity. He was probably wondering why she was making it sound like such a bad thing. “They’re going to be staying in my room...And uh, that means I gotta introduce them to you? And you to them? And uh…” She gulped “You’re going to be...Probably kind of, really scary to them?” She could see him mouthing something, very likely a simple “oh” of realization as he caught on to the issue. Of course. Giant spooky skeleton. That wasn’t the sort of thing kids were used to seeing, right? Even if for him it didn’t feel unusual. Still Señor Esqueleto knew to follow one rule. Hide. Hide when he visited his favorite little tiny. “That means you can’t show up so soon, you have to let me tell them and then I’ll bring them out to meet you, ok?” And hopefully they’d see he was nice and not go out screaming into the night.

Almost immediately a large smile seemed to overtake the giant skeleton’s “face” as he nodded eagerly. Coco could tell he was excited to meet her friends. Maybe eager to make more friends? It wouldn’t be too odd a thought, she knew he must be quite lonely with being the way he was and people being scared of him. “Ok, then tomorrow you get to meet them. But you gotta promise you’ll be really careful ok? No more scaring people either. I don’t like those mean stories they make up about you…Promise you’ll always be good, ok?” Señor Esqueleto nodded once more, raising his hand and opening up the palm, miming a scout’s honor gesture, before he lowered his hand and carefully extended his pinky finger in her direction. She couldn’t help smile and do the same, her much smaller pinky dwarfed by the massive size of his phalanges, but it was the thought that counted. A promise was a promise.

With that done, the pair went on to do as they usually did. With Coco perched up on her Señor Esqueleto’s head as he walked calmly around Santa Cecilia, being mindful of where he walked, while humming that odd and strangely familiar tune of his. It was such a soothing melody that it comforted her through out the night, until she drifted off into a fitful slumber that held none of the worries she’d carried with her all day. When the sun began to rise, Coco found herself waking up in bed, her friend nowhere in sight. The doorframe of the balcony was slightly misshapen, which answered how she’d gotten back in bed after falling asleep. Still, damaged or not, she couldn’t help but smile at the door. Señor Esqueleto had put her to bed and tucked her in. And to make it better, she’d dreamed of her papá that night. For a moment, she wondered if her papá would become friends with the colossal skeleton when he came back home. Coco really hoped so.

---

The library proved useful in the end. Ernesto could barely believe how many books had been made just to report odd occurrences relating to superstition and the supernatural. It was almost ridiculous...But it helped him immensely. Several books spoke of demonic apparitions, shadow people that fed on negative thoughts and feelings, possession, angry spirits… But one book in particular had caught his attention the most. “Legends from Across the Globe - A book on mythical creatures belonging to other cultures”. He’d be embarrassed to admit he’d enjoyed looking through the curious collection of cultural horror stories, but Ernesto would not deny he didn’t feel slightly “enlightened”. Apparently, there was a japanese folklore monster called the Gashadokuro, which so happened to be a giant skeleton. Reading about it had been...Err...Disturbing. And their description did not quite match what he knew of Hector’s death, so the fact he’d come back as something of that kind was...Well, not too good. It certainly said a lot about his ex-best friend. But then again, this was México, not Japan, so what did Ernesto really know? From what he could tell, spirits seemed to be very odd with picking how they looked or came back to haunt. The skeleton thing was probably just a huge coincidence...Or maybe, now that he thought about it, it had more to do with some old conversation he’d had with Hector early on in their tour.

“Don’t look so glum, Hector. You’ll be back before you know it, and you’ll have a lot of money in your pocket to boot! You’ll be able to provide for your family!” Ernesto had said, giving his friend a rough pat on the back as they rode the train to their next destination. “I know but...I just, I miss them…” Hector had sighed, looking sadly out the window of the train at the landscape. “I miss my girls Ernesto…” “You’ve been gone little more than two weeks amigo! What’s there to miss?” “A lot...Two weeks is a lot! It’s an eternity for a child.” Ernesto shook his head at the remark, unable to understand that at all. Two weeks was NOT a lot. It certainly hadn’t left the impact he’d wanted when they performed. “I just, I wish I could see them every day and still be able to provide for them.” At that, Ernesto couldn’t help laugh. “You’d need very long legs to accomplish that.” Ernesto chuckled, which made Hector pout in reply. “My legs are long enough as they are, any longer and I’d look ridiculous.” he mumbled as he crossed his arms. “Then what would you rather? Longer legs or just being large enough that they did not look disproportionate?” Ernesto asked, laughing harder at the thought. “What….Like a giant? Goodness no! I’d be too large to play my guitar!” Hector couldn’t help join in the laughter at the absurdity of the remark. “Although, I’d certainly be able to travel from town to town in one day. I’d see my girls and be back before sundown so we could perform.” “You’d scare people half to death as well!” “Oh I would not…” “Would too and you know it Hector.” Ernesto found himself wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as he settled down from his laughing fit. “But díos would it make you memorable...Millions would come to see the dashingly handsome musician, Ernesto de la Cruz, and his abnormally sized partner and fellow musician, Hector Rivera!” “Ajá, muy gracioso ... Eres un comediante de verdad.” Hector rolled his eyes, although the smile on his face betrayed what he really felt. “Sí, mi madre también lo pensó.” Ernesto grinned “Although, for that act I think we should give you a better look. Maybe we could paint your face to look like a calavera.” “So I’d be what? A giant skeleton?” “You’d be memorable.” “And I’ll bet you’d be riding on my head singing your heart away while I played a guitar too small for my hands.” “...Ok now that you say that, it seems less ideal. Ah well, back to the drawing board…”

Ernesto frowned as he recalled that particular conversation. It seemed like it had stuck with Hector after death, enough so that it influenced the appearance he took. A giant skeleton. It’d be flattering if it wasn’t so annoyingly ironic. The monster that was haunting him was one of his own creation, and Ernesto hated it. But it did make him slowly believe that perhaps taking care of Imelda and Coco would indeed be the solution. After all, that whole conversation had stemmed from Hector’s desire to see them, so maybe that was what he did when he wasn’t hunting him? It would make sense...But also be a problem. What if that damned spirit had found a way to reveal to them what Ernesto had done? They’d ruin his reputation! He couldn’t allow that, not now, not ever!

In three weeks, he’d be in Santa Cecilia. In three weeks, he’d make Hector’s two precious girls perish in a terrible “accident”. In three weeks, he would be saved. What he did not know, is that three weeks were more than enough for a few things to be set in motion. Like how Coco would be introducing her two best friends to her tremendously sized secret friend. Like how Imelda’s dreams would once more betray her and make her wonder just what happened to her missing husband. Like how Julio and Rosita would insist in figuring out where Señor Esqueleto came from. Like how Hector’s own mind would begin to mend as soon as he caught sight of one particular poster… Ernesto de la Cruz,

The Grand Homecoming Concert,

Santa Cecilia’s greatest musician!

#Eps Writes:#Disney #Pixar #Coco #Gashadokuro AU #Fanfic

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paganvamp · 3 years

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Saving Grace: Chapter Four

Grace and her friends meet the new kid, but Grace realizes he might be hiding a dark secret.

This chapter is basically just a recap of the gang meeting Stefan for the first time, but with Grace involved CW: Language, brief mention of bullying?, mention of car accidents

2009 AD: The First Meeting

“Ow! Fuck!” Grace swore, cradling the tip of her burned finger to her chest.

“It’s a fire. You aren’t supposed to stick your hand in it.” Chloe’s voice was flat and unamused, a perfectly groomed brow raised as if questioning her sister’s intelligence.

“Yeah well you were supposed to put the fire out before I grabbed the candle!” Offering to teach Chloe how to control her magic had not been one of Grace’s brightest ideas. Chloe had just recently displayed signs of Tapping into her power, and as Grace had been practicing magic for the past four months, she’d felt qualified to teach her younger sister all about magic.

She had been wrong.

“Mom said if we blow up the house, she’s putting us both up for adoption.” While Grace’s control of her magic was vastly better than Chloe’s, it tended to slip when she became angry, irritated, or frustrated… all of which seemed to happen constantly around her sister. Another problem was that, while Grace had the basic magic skills that every witch had, she was also gifted with a completely different skill set to Chloe’s. As she’d found out four months ago, Grace had the rare ability of divination – essentially, she could see the past or future. Usually, her ‘visions’ came to her in dreams, like the one in which Elena had returned to school after her parent’s deaths. But her mother's grimoire had also mentioned a technique called scrying, or using a reflective surface to see the past, future, or even other people in the present. In addition to her divination skills, Grace was also an Empath, able to “read” the feelings and emotions of everyone around her with a touch, or simply by concentrating on them hard enough. Altogether, Grace’s particular talents tended to lie in psychic acuity.

Chloe, on the other hand, had demonstrated the much more common elemental manipulation. While all witches had a limited control of all four elements, such as lighting candles or making a feather float in the air, some had particularly strong control, usually over one single element. Chloe’s was air. For the past hour, Grace had been standing ten feet away from her sister in their basement, lighting a candle and waiting for Chloe to conjure a gust of wind strong enough to blow out the flame. When that had gotten boring, she’d switched to lighting the candle, then attempting to snatch it quickly away from its original spot so Chloe’s blast of air would have to flip on a dime. This particular time, Chloe hadn’t been fast enough, and Grace too careless, and she had scorched the tip of her finger.

“We’ve been at this forever, Gracie!” Chloe whined. “You made me get up at 5:00 in the morning for this. Can’t we just go get ready for school?” At the word school, a feeling similar to the one she’d felt that morning four months ago slammed into Grace. Elena’s coming back today. After Elena and Jeremy moved out of the Forbes’ house, where they had lived for a few weeks while their sudden new guardian Aunt Jenna found them a house of their own, Grace hadn’t seen much of either of them. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She saw plenty of Jeremy, high out of his mind and hiding from his aunt and sister around town. She had no doubt he’d find a spot in the Stoner Pit saved for him when he got to school.

“Yeah, alright,” Grace sighed, “We’re done for now.” Pleased with this, Chloe made her escape before her sister had the chance to change her mind, Grace following her upstairs much more slowly.

“How did it go?” Cecile asked in a voice that suggested she already knew the answer. Grace just made an irritated noise in the back of her throat while Chloe said,

“It was fine.”

“Gracie, come here, I want you to see this.” Cecile waved her eldest daughter over to the kitchen table, upon which several old books were laid out.

“What are these?”

“This one,” Cecile answered, pointing to a smallish book bound in red leather, “is my personal grimoire." This, Grace knew already, as her mother had let her read it after dropping the 'you're a witch' bomb. "And this one,” she pointed to a larger one this time, its deep brown cover cracked a bit, “is your dad’s.” As Cecile and Joseph had explained shortly after Grace’s horrifying realization that day four months ago – an event which she privately referred to as ‘The Incident’ – she had been entirely wrong about her childhood. Her parents were not Wiccans – or not just Wiccans, anyway. They were witches, with real magic, and that locked door at the end of the hall was filled with all their grimoires, amulets, herbs… anything that might have been linked to magic in any way was locked in that room, kept secret even from their own children. Because, while the Sinclairs were originally part of the Tremé Coven, they had broken from them due to their leader’s increasing violence and heavy use of Sacrificial Magic. So, they moved to the Quarter, where the King had an extremely strict no magic policy. Anyone caught practicing would be ‘dealt with’ in a highly unpleasant way. Which was why, eventually, they’d had to flee to Mystic Falls – the King had been coming for them, and he was pissed. In the four months since The Incident, both of her parents had been teaching Grace everything they knew. This was not to say the proverbial door at the end of the hallway was unlocked - her parents still had secrets, and whatever they were, they were holding them close to the chest.

“What’s this one?” Grace pointed to the biggest, and oldest by the look of it, book on the table.

“That’s Sheila Bennett’s ancestral grimoire. She’s allowing you to borrow it for a few days in the ‘spirit of learning’.” Grams is a witch? Logically, Grace had put together that ‘cousins from Salem’ had meant ‘cousins who are witches’, but she didn’t consider that the Mystic Falls Bennetts might be those witch cousins.

“Does that mean Bonnie…?”

“Only time will tell, Gracie, but the Bennett line is a powerful one.” It would be amazing to have a friend who was a witch, who she didn’t have to hide this from, who she could learn with. Chloe didn’t count, as their relationship was far too tenuous. They loved each other, of course, but they were so different it was hard for them to get along.

“Gracie! Are you giving us a ride or am I leaving your ass here?” Came Chloe’s irritated voice from the driveway, unknowingly proving Grace’s point to herself. Grace rolled her eyes.

“I’m coming, Chlo, relax.” Scooping up her bag and giving her dad a kiss on the cheek as she passed him, Grace made her way out to the car all three sisters had been forced to share since Chloe rear-ended Matt’s truck in their own driveway. His truck was fine, but Chloe’s car privileges had been revoked for three months, one for each dent in the hood of her Honda. Matt. That was another issue. After the crash, Elena had broken up with Matt and then basically ghosted everyone. He was convinced they’d be getting back together once the school year started up again and she’d had time to heal. Grace wasn’t so sure. It seemed that pushing Elena to decide regarding her future with Matt was the single good thing to come out of that night.

As she reached for the door handle, Grace glanced at her reflection in the mirror and felt the slight dizziness she had come to associate with what she called a ‘vision’, or a premonition of the future.

“Seriously, what are you so worried about?” Grace saw herself, sitting in a booth at the Mystic Grill across from a guy she’d never seen before.

“Shouldn’t you tell me? You know, with your magic superpowers and all?” The guy teased, clearly deflecting.

“That’s not how it works, and you know it, Stefan.” Grace reached her hand across the table, laying it atop his own in a gesture of comfort. “Don’t worry about Katherine, okay? That bitch is going down.”

“Grace? Gracie, are you okay?” Aimee’s face came into view, inches away from Grace’s. She looked concerned. “Did it happen again?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Aimes, it happened again.” Grace was shaken, not necessarily by the vision but by how close she had come to getting them all killed. “Maybe you should drive today.” Grace had barely gotten over her driving anxiety after the accident, and this close call set her heart racing.

“I second that.” Chloe stated, though Grace could tell from the way she bit at her lip that she was just as concerned as Aimee.

“Sure thing. What did you see?” The youngest Sinclair sibling asked as they piled into the car and out of the driveway.

“I’m… not sure.” Grace had no idea why she would have been plotting revenge against a girl she’d never met with a guy she’d never met, but she knew her visions tended to only go about a year or two into the future. Which meant whatever this Katherine girl had done would be happening relatively soon. “Some guy and I at the Grill.”

“Ooh,” Chloe singsong-ed from the backseat, “Like a date?”

“No, not like a date.” Grace’s visions also came with emotions, or impressions, a factor relating to her Empathic abilities most likely. She hadn’t felt any romantic attraction coming from either of them – but an intense bond, the kind of friendship borne out of hardships. Whoever ‘Stefan’ was, Grace trusted him with her life and hated to see him upset. Which was surprising, as Grace didn’t trust easily or quickly.

“But was he cute?”

“I don’t know, Chloe. That’s not what I was paying attention to.” Knowing that wasn’t the answer her sister wanted, Grace sighed in defeat. “Yeah, sure, he was cute. If you’re into the broody, quiet type. He had good hair.”

“I want to know the second you meet this guy. I think you might have just divined my future husband.” Highly doubting that, Grace agreed to her sister’s request anyway. As they pulled into the school parking lot and Aimee parked in Grace’s reserved spot, her attention shifted back to the more pressing issue – finding Elena.

“Chloe, if you have a class with Elena, I want you to act like everything is completely normal, okay? Don’t bring up… just don’t bring it up.”

“Yeah, because I figured ‘hey, remember a few months ago when your parents died’ would be an enjoyable conversation starter.”

“Neither of us will say anything, Gracie.” Aimee promised. “And we won’t let anyone else, either.”

“Good. And I swear, Chloe, if you’re twenty minutes late again, we’re going home without you.” With Chloe grumbling in protest, the three sisters clambered out of the car and headed off to their respective friends.

Elena had already arrived by the time Grace found Bonnie and Caroline on the front lawn. It was obvious Caroline had just walked up the two, and Grace heard the tail end of their conversation.

“How is she, is she good?”

“Caroline, I’m right here.” Elena pointed out. “And I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Really?” Caroline didn’t sound convinced.

“Yes! Much better.”

“You poor thing.” Caroline leaned over and hugged Elena, clearly shocking the other girl. “Grace! I was just making sure Elena was feeling better.”

“And I was just telling Caroline that I’m fine.” Elena sent Grace a look that clearly said she was not ready to deal with Caroline at such an early hour of the morning.

“Hey, Care, weren’t you supposed to show me the plans for the festival?”

“Oh my God, I almost forgot!” Caroline exclaimed, lighting up at the prospect of getting to show off party plans. She turned back to Bonnie and Elena. “See you guys later?” As she was dragged away, Grace looked over her shoulder to see Elena throwing her a thankful smile.

“So, I assume you’ve already done your customary run through of all the male real estate for the year?” Grace asked. Caroline knew everything about everyone, and sometimes used that power for good. Mostly, though, it was used to help herself and her friends determine if there was anyone worth dating, considering most of them had grown up together. Grace’s last relationship had ended two summers ago - July 13, 2008, to be exact - when a drunk driver slammed into her boyfriend Bryan’s car on the Wickery Bridge, killing him instantly. Grace had been in the passengers seat, and everyone had told her how lucky she’d been, to only end up in the hospital for a week. If only they knew…

Caroline, determined to help in the best way she knew how, had decided it was time for Grace to “get back on the horse” when it came to boys. Grace was trying to share her friend’s enthusiasm. Throwing a wrench in Caroline's plans, however, was the fact that while Grace was certainly not ugly, she tended to be "such a good friend" that she was rarely thought of as girlfriend material. Still, she might as well play along.

“Of course I have. I heard a rumor from Kelly Beech that there was a hot new guy in the office this morning, but so far I have yet to confirm.”

“Kelly Beech with the gross hair? We talk to her?” It wasn’t just Kelly’s unkempt hair that had kept Grace and her friends from associating with the girl, but it did contribute. Bonnie liked to say, ‘If you can’t bother to take care of yourself, why should I care about you?’ Possibly not their finest moment, but hey – it was high school after all.

“Uh, we do when she was the only student in the office this morning who might have noticed any new additions to the severely lame male population of our school.” Grace laughed.

“Okay, okay, fair point. But since we don’t have confirmation on whether or not she was telling the truth, doesn’t that put Kelly a step ahead of us?” Caroline came to an abrupt halt as if the thought were so horrific it froze her in place.

“You’re right.” She sounded scandalized. “I have to do some recon. We’ll go over the festival plans at lunch, yeah?”

“Only if you promise I’ll be the first to know whatever you find out.” Caroline smiled at her friend.

“You always are. See you!”

“Bye!” As Caroline headed off towards whatever she felt would give her information, Grace turned toward her locker. When she got there, she found it was situated next to possibly the worst person imaginable.

“Tyler Lockwood.” She groaned at the sight of the football jersey; his last name emblazoned on the back. She didn’t necessarily hate Tyler; she knew he was Matt’s best friend, and that had to mean something, right? He was just such a douche. Not to mention a giant reminder of her worst mistake, and her biggest loss. He smirked at her.

“Sinclair. You’re looking delicious this morning.” Whatever awkward guilt he had seemed to feel at last year’s bonfire had disappeared quickly, as though he had somehow done such a good job pretending it had never happened that he had convinced himself of the fact.

“Fuck off.” She rolled her eyes, nudging him to the side with her elbow so she could get to her locker. That’s when she noticed the locker on the other side of hers. And the person currently opening it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She muttered to herself. Vicki Donovan normally wouldn’t elicit any kind of reaction from Grace, positive or negative. But after Elena broke up with Matt, Vicki had decided Elena was a bitch and didn’t care who knew it. Which meant she thought that all of Elena’s friends were bitches, as well. Not to mention the fact that Jeremy followed her around like a lost puppy, which was just pathetic to watch.

“Grace Sinclair. What a lovely surprise.” Vicki clearly wasn’t any happier with this arrangement than Grace was. Grace consoled herself with the thought that Tyler would be spending most of his time on the football field, and Vicki in the Stoner Pit. She would barely have to interact with them. But even for a few minutes, standing between them made Grace want to throw up. The barrier she’d erected in order to block out others’ emotions was shaky at the best of times, and currently all she could feel was the pain and anger radiating off the two of them in waves. She’d felt the same pain in Matt’s presence, to a much lesser extent, and knew it had something to do with his and Vicki’s mom. She knew Tyler’s dad was an asshole. And, yeah, she felt bad for them. But that didn’t mean she wanted to deal with their emotions on the daily. She had her own to deal with, especially with Tyler around. Hurrying as quickly as possible, she filled her backpack up with everything she would need until lunch to ensure she wouldn’t have to come back here and risk running into either of them. It was possible she’d have class with Vicki - if Vicki showed up - but at least then she could put a whole classroom between them.

“Çe n’est pas juste.” She muttered to herself as she slammed her locked shut, falling back on an old habit of talking to herself in French. As is my lot in life, apparently…

Caroline was nowhere to be seen when Grace finally made her way into the lunchroom hours later. She was so busy looking for her, in fact, that she slammed right into the back of someone.

“Oh, fuck, I am so sorry!” She swore, whipping her head around to face the person she’d nearly knocked over. And that was when she froze completely. Jesus fuck. Those broody, dark eyebrows, blue-green eyes, and strong jaw had been lurking in the back of her mind all day. Stefan.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Fuck, had she said his name out loud?

“Uh, no. No, sorry, I guess I just… heard there was a new guy at school and figured it had to be you.” She didn’t think he believed her, but he pretended he did.

“Well, yeah. I’m Stefan Salvatore. Sorry about…”

“Oh, no, that was totally my fault!” He smiled her off and held out his hand for her to shake. But when she accepted it, an icy chill slid down her spine. Witches could sense life, part of being the Servant of Nature, or so her dad had told her. Where she would have felt a warm, pleasant hum on any other person, Stefan’s hand felt… wrong. Cold and dead. Lowering her psychic shield, she purposely dove as deeply as she could into his emotions, and it was all she could do to keep from physically staggering backwards. A maelstrom of guilt, pain, sadness, and curiosity barreled into her. There was a touch of anger, too, and hopelessness. Some paranoia, or at least anxiety that someone would find out something he didn’t want them to know. She hadn’t known it was possible for one person to feel so much, so negatively, in one lifetime. She almost instinctively slammed her shield back up, but just before she did, there was another emotion that niggled at her consciousness. A hunger, a yearning for… something, something that he knew he shouldn’t want. She pulled her hand from his grasp. “Um, if you’ll excuse me, I… I need to find my friends.” She heard her own voice as if from a distance, still trying to reel herself back into her own mind, her own emotions. She wanted to shake Stefan off like a dog does water. Before she could fully turn away, Stefan’s voice stopped her.

“Wait! I never got your name.” He smiled and it seemed so genuine, so kind, that it was hard to believe there was something so wrong inside of him.

“Grace. My name is Grace.” She turned and fled, not staying to look for Caroline. She didn’t want to know what Caroline had learned about Stefan Salvatore. She’d learned enough.

Grace sat in her car in the parking lot, a faint psychic headache thrumming at her temples. She’d gone too deep, spent too much power on Stefan, and was already bone tired. But she ignored the pain, ignored the fatigue. For the life of her, she could not reconcile her vision and apparent fondness and devotion for Stefan from that morning to the cold, slimy feeling of his hand in hers. She’d been doing this long enough to know what life and death felt like, and Stefan had felt like death. Adding to that the barrage of horrid, negative emotions swirling around his own head, she didn’t know what to think. Obviously, Stefan had some major secrets. Maybe they had something to with this Katherine girl from her vision? Either way, Future Grace clearly liked Stefan, so he couldn’t have been too bad… right? Grace was pulled quite abruptly out of her reverie when a knock sounded on her window. She turned her head to find Caroline doubled over, staring at her as if she had come unhinged. She motioned for Grace to roll her window down.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry, Care, I just… needed some air.”

“’Some air’? What, you can’t answer your phone and get air at the same time?” Where is my phone? Grace distantly looked around the car, patting her pockets. Her phone was nowhere to be found. Shit. It must have fallen out of her pocket when she rammed into Stefan in the cafeteria.

“Sorry, Care. I think I dropped it. Did you happen to see it inside?” The other blonde rolled her eyes.

“I swear to God, Grace, you would lose your head if that was possible.”

“Well, you’d be there to screw it back on for me.” Caroline rolled her eyes again but couldn’t hide her smile.

“Do you have enough air yet? I wasn’t planning on spending all of lunch standing outside your car.” Resolving to deal with the ‘Stefan issue’ whenever it next became a problem, a la Scarlet O’Hara, Grace followed Caroline back inside. Of course, had she known how much of a problem it would become, she might have prepared herself a bit better.

It was customary for Caroline, Grace, Elena, Matt, and Bonnie to meet up at the Grill after school. Unlike the years before, today Elena had wanted to visit the cemetery beforehand, and it was a complete question mark as to whether Matt would even show up; Caroline, Grace and Bonnie decided to go together. Grace hadn’t run into Stefan since their original meeting in the cafeteria, and she wasn’t sure whether or not she was glad of that, but either way she barely held in her groan as Caroline repeated to Bonnie all she had managed to learn about the handsome newcomer.

“His name is Stefan Salvatore. He lives with uncle up at the old Salvatore Boarding House. He hasn't lived here since he was a kid. Military family, so they moved around a lot. He's a Gemini, and his favorite color is blue.” Even for Caroline, that was impressive.

“You got all that in one day?” Bonnie scoffed; a tad incredulous.

“Oh, please, I got all that between third and fourth period. We're planning a June wedding.” Grace and Bonnie shared a look behind Caroline’s back as they settled into a booth. Conveniently, Grace found herself facing a booth holding both Matt and Tyler, and spotted Jeremy and Vicki conversing in the back. Shit, it really is the only local hangout isn’t it? The gang generally had movie night at Grace’s house every Thursday, but considering the Grill was chock-full of people Grace wanted to avoid, she was considering making movie night an every day thing. Matt spotted them then and, ensuring Elena was nowhere in sight, made his way over.

“Hey, Matt!” Grace smiled at him brightly. She’d hardly seen him all summer, despite living next door. Matt had buried himself in workouts with Tyler and hanging at the Grill while his sister worked, and Grace had her own things to deal with.

“Hey yourself, Margot.” Matt was the only person Grace allowed to call her by her middle name, and only rarely. This, the first sign of his mood finally improving, was one of those rare exceptions.

“Um, hello?” Caroline interjected. “What are we, invisible?”

“Hello, Caroline, it’s very good to see you.” That signature smirk seemed to Grace like the sun breaking the clouds. Maybe he really can move on. “How’s Elena doing?” Or maybe not. Bonnie answered for all of them.

“Her mom and dad died. How do you think? She’s putting on a good face, but it's only been four months.”

“Has she said anything about me?” Caroline and Grace exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“Oh, no. So not getting in the middle. You pick up the phone and call her.”

“I feel weird calling her. She broke up with me.”

“Give it more time, Matt.” The sound of door opening drew everyone’s attention, and Elena herself walked in… with Stefan.

“More time, huh?” Before anyone could respond, Stefan and Elena reached their table.

“Hey, I’m Matt. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi. Stefan.” Elena smiled at Matt a bit awkwardly.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Grace looked imploringly at Caroline. The girl’s talkativeness had never been more helpful.

“Uh, so, were you born in Mystic Falls?” Some of the tension broke as Elena, Stefan, and Matt ended their mini stare-down. Caroline obviously already knew the answer to that question, but had to ask the guy something - she wasn’t about to admit she’d learned his entire life story without his knowledge.

“Mm-hmm. And moved when I was still young.” Caroline seemed to falter, so Bonnie picked up the slack.

“Parents?”

“My parents passed away.” Oh, shit.

“I’m sorry.” Elena told him, with grief evident in her voice. “Any siblings?” Grace took the banal conversation as an opportunity to lower her shields slightly, feeling out those around her. Caroline was her typical bundle of neuroses, with an unsurprising note of longing, likely for Stefan. Bonnie was also in her usual mood, quiet support supplemented with a tinge of humor and excitement. Matt, also, was dealing with expected feelings of jealousy, insecurity, hope, and an increasingly unrequited love. It was Elena and Stefan that threw Grace for a loop. If Grace had thought Matt’s jokes were like the sun breaking through the clouds, then the crack in Elena’s hard shell of grief was the goddamn aurora borealis. For the first time in months, there was hope, and humor, and… attraction. She’s into him. Stefan, too, had more positive emotions in him now than he had at lunch. There was hope and curiosity, and attraction, but… a strange attraction. Not quite an obsession, but something more than a simple crush. It was intense and was fueling a strong determination paired with an iron will. A strange thing to feel for someone you just met.

“Grace?” She snapped back into her own head at the sound of Stefan’s voice saying her name.

“You still in there, Margot?”

“I gave you one pass, Matthew.” She warned, using his full name to help make her point. “Don’t push it.” He held his hands up in surrender as she turned her attention to Stefan. “Sorry, I zoned out. What were you saying?”

“I asked if you lost anything at school today.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out her phone. She gasped, relieved beyond words.

“Oh my God, thank you! You’re a literal lifesaver!”

“Well, I couldn’t leave it in the cafeteria to be trampled.” Shaking off the horror of that mental image, Grace thanked Stefan once again. He smiled at her, genuinely, as he assured her it was no problem. Suddenly Caroline perked up with an idea.

“Grace, to show your thanks, why don’t you buy Stefan a drink for the party tomorrow night?”

“You mean ‘please provide us all with alcohol’?” Grace laughed. Grace was only a year older and certainly not able to legally buy alcohol, but both of her parents kept a large enough stash of wine and liquor they never noticed when a few bottles went missing. Not that there wouldn’t be plenty of kegs already there, of course. But why drink from a keg when you could have 15-year old bourbon?

“I’m missing something, what party?”

“It’s a back to school thing at the falls.” Bonnie shrugged, trying to make it seem like they didn’t look forward to this party all summer.

“Are you going?” He asked Elena. Always a matchmaker, Bonnie answered before Elena could even open her mouth.

“Of course, she is.”

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memorylang · 4 years

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Week in My American Pandemic Life | #44 | September 2020

September felt like a good month to share another slice-of-life blog story (since my last one was pre-pandemic, last December!).

Leading into Sept. 2020, I knew that it’d be the month in which I’d find out whether I was going back to Peace Corps Mongolia in October. If so, I’d need to be ready to repack my belongings and head back overseas. If not, I’d find out for how much longer I’d need to wait.

The longer I’ve been back in the States, the more little activities I’ve picked up. But still, my heart’s with the Peace Corps. I want to go back as soon as I can. With that in mind, though, here’s what I’ve been up to!

Most Every Day

These events encompass my stateside weeks 26 to 30 (being Aug. 28 to Oct. 1). I've been doing mostly ad hoc projects depending on Peace Corps’ timeline. Since my summer weeks, my most recurring roles have focused around two task forces and two boards on which I’ve been serving amid the pandemic. Beyond these, I’ve been focusing on readying for graduate school and seeking a strong spiritual life.

I spent most of September in Reno, so my week-in-the-life stories encompass those periods. My weekends largely blurred with my weekdays, so weeks tended to mesh together. Still, each day had enough recurring events that I’ll start by describing those common threads.

Long Before Dawn

I usually rose between 3 and 5 a.m. I’d basically fling myself out of bed to shut off my alarm so as not to wake my younger brother. Then I’d leave the room and spend my morning in the house’s kitchen/dining area.

From then till 9 a.m., I’d mostly work on language exercises from the classical Latin textbook I've been using with a long-time friend who’s been tutoring me this rich language. Around 9 a.m., we’d hop on our video call. Even on weekends we tended to call. We chatted usually for a couple hours, finishing around 11 a.m. or noon, depending on our start.

Besides Latin daily, I’d a few other activities I’d do usually sometime between about 4 a.m. and 1 p.m. These were for spirit, for fun and a bit of escape.

I’d continued my quarantine habits of reading more Scripture. At the month’s start, I’d pray a rosary and read a Psalm a day. A friend and I had finished reading our daily Proverbs chapters in August, so we’d decided to take on a Psalm a day. Then my other friend and I had concluded our rosaries. So, I’d read a Hebrews chapter with my Psalm a day. After I finished Hebrews, my other Bible study group had begun John. So, by September’s end, I was reading a Psalm and John verses a day. Good times.

Daily App Streaks

Around 8 a.m. I’d get in a power nap to recharge. Usually after 8 I also didn’t tend to receive messages from friends in Mongolia, for that approached their midnight. If I received new messages, those tended to come after 6 p.m., which was their morning.

On the learning side, I’d also keep up my Duolingo streak. I’d surpassed over 150 days, so I figured I might as well keep at it. I mostly used Duolingo to practice Latin and seldom had touched the Spanish and Chinese lessons as much as I used to. Sometimes my daily Duolingo lesson feel like bad medicine, but I remind myself that languages stick best when I rehearse them. Other days feel great!

A bit after my morning nap would be my 9 a.m. Latin tutorial. Either right after it (closer to noon or 1 p.m.) or long before it, such as when I’d wake up or shower, I do my Scripture readings, Duolingo and also Pokémon tasks. I’d never set a specific time for these.

Mostly to break up the hard stuff, I’d keep up Pokémon GO and Pokémon Masters EX streaks. The freemium games offer daily bonuses for simple activities. In terms of self-tending, I remember that humans ought to set aside time each day for play. At least by playing free games, I needn’t spend money. They get me out of the house, too!

Habits of Isolation

When I’m not out of the house, the pandemic surely does weird stuff to me. Free time seems to lead me to check my email inbox, perhaps too often. I think that the habit stems from my ambiverted itch to have social contact after spending hours alone glued to topics. I also just like helping people and brightening their days, given how unevenly the pandemic affects us. More innocuously, I check my Google Calendar too to make sure I don’t miss deadlines. I try not to stress so much…

When I caught myself staring too long at that inbox, I’d go outside an hour or few to a walk around the neighborhood, thank God and weigh whatever might be on my mind. Reno, Nev. had had plenty of smoke from NorCal fires, so I’d definitely keep on my facemask. I loved being outside, but toxic air made me less eager.

Around 3 p.m., I’d get in a second power nap. Though, on some weekdays my youngest brother had his online class at 3. So, I try to nap a little before, so he could have the room to himself.

Our family usually has dinner around 6:45 p.m. or 7. Attendance varies depending on who’s at the house by that day. At minimum would usually be Dad, my tita /TEE-tuh/ (Filipina stepma) and me. At most, there would usually include four more, being my youngest brother, a family friend who's also our tenant, my youngest sister and her boyfriend. Sometimes by brother’s still on campus, the family friend’s at work, and/or my sister and her bf aren’t visiting till the next day.

As a side note, when I’d first started coming up from Vegas to help at the Reno house, Dad had only purchased a dining table with four chairs. Then he’d purchased four more chairs, which most of us had opposed. Once everyone else had come up for their fall semesters, though, we conceded that Dad won.

Weekday Mornings

Mondays through Fridays are my dad’s workdays, so morning routines go a little differently. Regardless, I’d usually still be up early, from that 3 to 5 a.m. range.

Tita would usually come downstairs around 5:15 a.m. to begin fixing breakfast for my father and whoever else was at the house. My stepmom reminds me of my mom in this way, waking early to fix food for everyone. I thought of both of them when reading of the woman in Proverbs 31:15, “She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family [...].” I hope I’ll be a caring parent, too.

Tita had retired some months after marrying my pa, which gave her more free time. If she wasn’t down around 5:15, she’d had asked me to come knock upstairs on the master bedroom door in case she and Dad overslept their alarms. I give her a hand when she needs it. Tita would also fix Papa coffee and unload the dishwasher from the night before. I’d help her reach higher shelves and take things to or from the garage.

And Tita and I would chat a bit. I hadn’t known much about the Philippines geographically. I felt surprised to learn that her home province's language is Bisayan, not Tagalog. She said it’s because she’s from Bohol, in the Central Visayas. We’d chat about Asian culture and our Catholicism, too, like the Bible and prayers. I’d also vent about life sometimes. She is a patient soul.

An Early Breakfast

Often between 5:45 a.m. or 6, my papa would come downstairs and enjoy the breakfast his wife made. Dad would also sometimes ask me to do things or comment on my ‘inability’ to do them. I tried to ignore the comments that I felt were a bit rude, since Dad told me I’m going to meet lots of mean people in life. He means well...

By 6:15 a.m., Dad would take off for work, so he’d kiss his honey goodbye and wish me a good day. Back when I was the only one staying at the house with Dad, I’d carry his bags out to the car; but by September, usually Tita would do this. I appreciated that she’d alleviated some of my burdens. She let me focus more on my own tasks, like language studies.

After Dad left, Tita would return upstairs to sleep. In the afternoon, she’d resume cooking to prepare dinner. I’d often still be in the kitchen/dining room since I usually had my computer and notebooks set up there. The house hasn’t really had many other tables on which to work.

Dad tended to get home around 6:45 p.m., hence our family’s usual mealtime. Whoever was nearby would set the table and summon the others. Afterward, we’d all usually pitch to put away the dishes and table mats while Pa and Tita got ready for their evening walk (or while Dad got distracted watching politics on the news). Tita had us leave food out for the others who’d missed dinner.

And now to share the unique activities of my week’s days!

MONDAYS: Non-Profit + Chinese

Mondays and Tuesdays were my Chinese days. Besides the usual Latin in the morning, I’d have a Chinese call in the evening with a teacher whom I’d met through Discord and reddit. The Chinese woman happened to have more free time through the pandemic, and so she felt happy to work with an eager student like me for free! I’d prep for our calls by reading her textbook and watching tutorial videos she’d taped. She encouraged me to give feedback, too.

Before our half-hour Chinese calls, Monday afternoons were also a bit busier. My siblings and I had our Foundation calls to go over the non-profit we were building to honor our late mother and help others. I usually just told people around me that my calls were to catch up with my sibs, which was also true. Since June, we’d been meeting to incorporate as we built up for our Oct. 8, 2020 launch.

Foundation meetings reminded me of extracurricular boards on which I’d sat during my undergrad and brought to mind my experiences in national public relations and advertising competition courses during my final years in journalism school. I felt like I’d been doing this type of work for years!

My siblings and I later moved our meeting time to Thursday afternoons to better accommodate school and work schedules.

And Mondays weren’t all-work-and-no-play. Usually by Monday nights I could find the new episode of “Crash Course: Linguistics” available on YouTube. I really liked those. Plus on Mondays, I could often find online versions of the newest Japanese “Pokémon Journeys” episodes with English subtitles. I’d gotten back into the show in Mongolia when I’d heard that its lead protagonist finally became Champion. Amazing to see!

TUESDAYS: Chinese + Social Justice in Psychology

Tuesdays continued Monday’s Chinese. At 8 a.m. I hopped onto a call of language learners through the National Security Girl Squad (which welcomes men, too!). We’d discuss current political events and interests in Chinese, which definitely helped my vocab. The group reminds me of folks I’d met while participating in the U.S. Department of State Critical Language Scholarship (CLS) Program 2018. Many involved in our calls had also done CLS!

After the Chinese call finished at 9, I sometimes slipped up a bit swapping back to Latin. But, I figure I just need to toughen up that mental acuity.

At 4 p.m., though later moved to 5 p.m., I’d hop on another Zoom for an entirely different topic. I've been serving on the Social Justice Task Force for Division 36 of the American Psychological Association! We focus on how we can live social justice within the Society for the Psychology of Religion and Spirituality. I’ve learned so much from these scholars, practitioners and doctoral students. They even appointed me Task Force secretary from early October.

Tuesday nights I also get another Pokémon break, in the form of Spotlight Hour in Pokémon GO. Sometimes I jog over to a local park for this. The event lets me catch some rarer Pokémon before dinner, hehe.

WEDNESDAYS: Advocacy + Scripture + Calls

Surprisingly similar to my undergrad years, Wednesdays tended to be my ‘gauntlet’ for the week. Once I got through Wednesdays, I got through the week.

On a couple Wednesdays, I’d gotten scheduled on behalf of the National Peace Corps Association (NPCA) conference calls with Nevada Rep. Horsford’s and Sen. Rosen’s offices. I experienced a bit of stress coordinating these activities as a citizen advocate, but I found the thrill of mobilizing decades of Returned Peace Corps Volunteers rewarding. (I even got to meet one in-person who teaches at the Uni of Nevada, Las Vegas!) Thanks to our efforts, Rep. Horsford opted to co-sponsor some urgent Peace Corps legislation, and I even got to publish an advocacy article in the NPCA’s WorldView magazine!

At Wednesday noons, I’d reconnect with a Christian friend with whom I read a Scripture chapter a day. We’d studied abroad together in Shanghai, China 2017, actually! We’d catch up about life, reflect on our readings and chat about our foci for the week. God, I love fellowship.

On a couple more Wednesdays, I had my virtual meetings with the Honors College at the Uni of Nevada, Reno. Timing tended to place our External Affairs committee and Community Advisory Board meetings on Wednesdays. I also wound up as secretary for the latter! Meanwhile, I served as co-chair of our Alumni Task Force; its meeting fell on a Thursday. For some reason, other calls with friends tended to stack up on Wednesdays, too.

By the night’s end, I was usually pretty tired. But, Pokémon GO had its legendary Raid Hour! So I usually jogged to the park or someplace for another cool Pokémon before it changed. Fun times.

THURSDAYS and FRIDAYS: Recentering

Thursdays and Fridays tended to be similar in terms of functions. Sometimes I’d have web conference events on these mornings. Otherwise, I’d usually sprinkle excess meetings from Wednesdays into Thursday afternoons.

Thursday mornings I’d have a quick check-in call with one of my fellow evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteers who was also telling her story. Thursday afternoons became my siblings’ and my family foundation’s new meeting time. First and third Thursday evenings, my Knights of Columbus College Council also prayed rosaries together over Zoom.

Thursday and Friday mornings tended to be better for my Latin since I’d fewer outside stressors. I’d shifted my least urgent business to Friday afternoons. I’d usually get out any last emails Friday before the weekend or queue them for Monday.

SATURDAYS: Wildcards

Saturdays varied. Sometimes they were like Fridays were fewer responsibilities. I did my own things, usually catching up on my Latin or working on personal projects. I saw national and state parks on one weekend!

Saturdays were also the first of Dad’s couple days off. So, he was at the house, too. Sometimes Dad heaped on responsibilities, busying my weekend.

SUNDAYS: Workdays

Sundays were pleasant. At 4 or 5 a.m., the American couple I’d befriended, who still worked in Mongolia, led their weekly Bible study video call with Mongolians. When my alarm successfully woke me up, I’d sign onto Zoom to chat with them about our week’s readings. I’d usually gain new insights, share what’s up in the States, and they’d mention what’s new in Mongolia. Then we’d offer our prayer intentions and sign off within the half-hour.

Dad tended to get up a bit later on Sundays. Our family did a few activities together if he wasn’t out shopping with Tita. Besides fixing together a hardier Sunday brunch, our main activity would be to see the Sunday liturgy on one of the tellies upstairs. We tended to watch Fr. Nathan Mamo and the students from Our Lady of Wisdom Newman Center since that was the parish we’d attended in Reno. Sometimes my sister or I would appear on the videos, too. We’d occasionally help with the readings or psalms since we used to serve at Masses pre-pandemic.

Given the many morning activities, my Latin-tutoring friend and I tended to call off or call short our calls on Sundays.

Sometime after the liturgy, Dad often had me or my siblings come outside to help him with yard work. Dad works on his days off—been his way since before I was born, judging from stories of my older half-brother. I figure it’s from his childhood on the farm or maybe past life as an army officer. Dad works hard.

Well, it’s a busy life, but I’m grateful to have finally been receiving Pandemic Unemployment Assistance. That’s let me stress less while I wait to get back to the Peace Corps. I’m an extremely fortunate soul.

Into October

Toward September’s end, I found out I wouldn’t be returning to Peace Corps Mongolia until Jan. 2021 at the earliest. This led me to prioritize readying my things for my future redeployment. It also gave me the comfort to let teams and friends know I’d be around longer. I felt weird knowing I’ll be in the States this year for such holidays as Hallowe’en, Thanksgiving and Christmas. But, God opens many doors.

By my last week this September, I still really felt ‘abroad.’ I haven’t settled much into the U.S. since returning. I feel more like I’m ‘just visiting.’ I wonder when I’ll feel at home again. I try to keep in mind that home is wherever I feel secure, safe and comfortable, welcomed and belonging in my community and space. Now that I’ve a bedroom again in the Vegas house where I’d spent middle and high school, that could help.

Usually once or twice a week Dad still has a yard task or chore for me to do, but those have been less frequent since fall set in. I think now that there’s more for me to attend to in Vegas, I’ll probably return there from late October. Let me know if you want to chat! Love to hear how people’ve been weathering this pandemic.

As for this blog, more to come! I look forward to writing about diversity, considering both nature and people. Remember to vote, American friends! What a year we’ve had.

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

#Peace Corps #Mongolia #story StayHome #Nevada #WithMe #Las Vegas #fall #patience #USA #memoryLang #God #Catholic #memoir #memorial #COVID-19 #Coronavirus #Christian #Reno #politics

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inhalareexhalare · 5 years

Photo

With a spiritual kiss of "we'll meet again," I leave a sleeping Karu with a promise to bring home a pasalubong.

Pasalubong may be translated into souvenir but all the pure gentle love and homely coziness of the word is sacrificed, so here: pasalubong.

Today I traverse an unfamiliar path.

So much excitement!

I haven't felt like this in a long, long time. As expected, I overestimate time. I'll probably reach our meeting point very early haha

2018-11-24 09:06 Philippines Saturday

Someday, these new babies will grow a little more like this.

The Rotarian commandment slab. My mom and dad both contribute/d to this goodwill organization with blood, sweat, and tears.

Oh damn I didn't notice the smell until I looked closely. It's a dead dog's body. Looks like it was torn to pieces. Did somebody want something from its insides? The face is gone.

Cruel. I wonder what happened? And why?

Century City Mall. I reach my destination! More insight and discoveries await.

I like his brand by the way. It fits my practical needs and suits my masculine style.

All that's left is wait. Malls usually open at 1000 and this one does too apparently.

And then Isla texted me if we can meet at 1030 instead. (I thought I told her I'd be on free data haha I hope she checks her FB. Can't respond via SMS.) Sure can! This is exactly why I brought Hudson.

To Karu:

2018-11-24 09:39 Philippines Saturday

Isla's running late HAHAHA

It's unusual if on foot or within campus, but definitely usual on the road. Road plus car means heavy traffic. Hahahaha

The entrance lights are so cute, but I still think it's a waste of electricity and energy.

Five more chapters and I'm done with this book. I've decided to stop still for now though. Let the tales sink. Suck it in. Take in the environment around me.

Breathe.

Feel.

Focus.

2018-11-24 11:00 Philippines Saturday

I had the most interesting talk with Theodore today. HAHA

Ever since that day I impulsively expressed that I thought he was a chill person and I feel easily comfortable around him, he never gave up on trying to get along with me despite my seemingly cold and antisocial nature.

I'm very grateful for that. I haven't had a more one on one talk with him than this so it feels stupid yet heartwarming HAHAH

Karu's been having a lot of bloody nightmares lately. So this is what an experienced fighter can dream about. Vivid sensory pain and lucid fight sequences.

2018-11-24 11:26 Philippines Saturday

Isla and I will get noms first.

A fascinating concept. Well, the concept of a food court is old, but the way they pulled it off is new! I thought it was just one restaurant!

And wit, there is wit everywhere! The number one social language: humor.

sneakpeekLET ME IIIIN!!

okay back to food court

I am so proud of Isla. She's quitting work to pursue med schooolll CCOOOOOLLL

We talked about everything over lunch. Also the future potential Peak resident psychologist thing. She pointed out that ethically, it's not recommended for people with close association with each other to be psychologist and patient due to conflict of interest and high possibility of dependency.

I'm now wondering if it's actually God's gift that I am antisocial.

But I must be careful about this matter. I've been bothered about this topic for years. Because to my experience, most toxic feelings root from a sense of alone-ness and as cheesy as it sounds, sometimes all you need is a friend.

Then again, a psychologist is not a hired friend. I think the better thing to do is be kind and maybe also a friend, but must focus on helping the patient make other friends, generally.

Open and widen their horizons.

On to books. There’s time!

There’s a lot I wanna showww

also a dead fly I found n a back cover

iSN’T IT JUST AMAZING HOW THEY MANAGE TO APPRECIATE the ART OF TELLING A STORY SHORTLY ON ONE PAGE?

2018-11-24 12:00 Philippines Saturday

A LOT HAPPENED

I deviated hahahaha I didn't paint Karu as the horizon.

I painted the horizon as something in his perspective. So you could say he IS the perspective.

Early in our relationship, I used to share my anxiety to him and told him I'd be so happy to die holding hands with him.

And breaking up once in our relationship (it was a wise decision too—due to his need to clarify his own feelings on his own first), I told him how I'm happy to see the horizon beside him, "holding hands or not."

The horizon being the vision, the future, the hopes and the dreams that we move towards.

2018-11-24 16:19 Philippines Saturday

Pasalubong! A grasshopper, because he used to be nicknamed "Tipaklong" back in the varsity team (arnis, basically a wooden extension of the arm. Simply, stick arts.) Or was it back in taekwondo days?

Tipaklong is grasshopper, as you may have already guessed, and he was called that because he's swift and light on his feet. More of a kicker.

We had bloody fun today.

So much love.

My appreciation for Isla is immeasurable.

2018-11-24 18:00 Philippines Saturday

Watching Karu sleep soundly while I prepare dinner for us feels so comfy.

This is my treasure.

It's warm in the heart. I'm happy when I see him rest because he usually barely does. And it's self-destructive.

As the second eldest in our siblings, I always had a sense of fulfillment and ease when my siblings (even the eldest brother) were at ease.

I remember fanning my little sister Nynaeve to sleep when there was a blackout. Also patting her thigh lightly in a slow rhythm to help her get to sleep.

I'd tell Justice (the youngest brother) stories and trivias that kept him interested, curious, and full of wonder with life until he got to sleep.

I'd ask so many questions to Kevin, whether he knew the answer or not and watch him be passionate about some things, especially mechanical apparatus or toys.

Sigh.

Life is hard. But God is good.

2018-11-24 20:00 Philippines Saturday

An unexpected guest of Karu's is here. I quietly stepped out of the house to hang around at my secret spot again.

I don't feel hatred. Or sadness.

I'm just in my quiet space at the moment. Although I am taken aback by the (I'm sorry to say) unpleasant surprise. (I though we discussed that any guest must be given the headsup first whether it's a good time to visit here or not. Apparently it only applies to Karu, oh well x_x)

(Yknow, actually, Karu probably only forgot because he's busy tending to himself. I understand because he's currently depressed.) I'm still staying out here though. I don't wanna have to deal with people right now.

I'm making distance to give it more thought, and see a better perspective.

Karu's depressed and prefers to keep away from me. Since Gallagher is more than welcome to be in his presence, maybe that will be best.

I have a tinge of envy but I think this could help Karu sleep better.

I'm way calmer with facing my heavier moods now. That's good.

Monsters, of course, never really disappear. We don't get to destroy them. Destruction only leads to more destruction.

We don't lose our monsters. We just learn to live with them better.

Must never forget to pray.

Walking is so liberating!

2018-11-24 23:05 Philippines Saturday

Karu asked to read my entries and of course I let him.

Karu tried to explain. He said that towards myself, like to Theodore and Job, he feels like a moving-forward person. So it becomes difficult at times that he's facing a problem that he doesn't feel ready to confront yet. This is the difference with other people, who don't know his stories yet, so he can freely talk about past stuff.

I cried a bit, and tried to hide it since he didn't have to know, but he found out the truth anyway, from realizing that, in this case, he cannot rest in a place like me then.

I've become a walking irony. I'm the one who always tells him to rest, but apparently he cannot because he feels too driven to take the move forward around me, leaving behind the important patient wait for the heart to catch up.

We cleared it all out in the later half of our conversation though.

Turns out Karu has a fear of being vulnerably at his worst around me. He feels that he will destroy me like he did to other people.

He feels like I don't deserve to witness his shitty parts.

But destruction is a two-way thing. There's stimulus, and then there's reaction. He can't take all the blame for "destruction." Breaking up for example is not a full reason to lead to a person's psyche to fall apart. That didn't happen to us. In fact, it only made our individual identities stronger and more solid.

God does not allow man to separate what he has put together. For a sacred union to fall apart, there is only one reason: a severe lack of faith.

I told him he's just gonna have to trust me.

I shared how it's also difficult for me to find the words or even just the voice when I'm being shitty. But we have to strive to tell our story anyway.

That's the thing about trust.

Trust doesn't have a certain guarantee. It's a leap of faith.

I told him that I married both his two sides, I married a beautiful bipolar musical man, and I want to get to know both of them, even the shitty parts, so I can understand and give love accordingly.

I am glad that he feels somewhat better, although he is still in his down. I like how he's started to open up a little and I feel like we're closer now than ever before.

I encouraged him that when I see his shitty sides, I don't really think how shitty it is. It actually reassures me and I think, "oh, he's just as human as I am."

We hug the “night” with many lofs.

2018-11-25 03:00 Philippines Sunday

#paint #story #corpse #cry #books #food court #art #pasalubong #tipaklong #sleep #cook #quote #vulnerable #monsters #chrono4 #quiet #marriage

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