#looking back through a few old outfits and posts lol

[deadghosy]

I love your work so much imagine ben Drowned in hasbin hotel.

Them crawling out of the TV and alistor is like I don't like tv but can you mess with vox😭.

SURE!! LOL! 🦆💗If anyone wants to do a creepypasta! Reader, I will make it a fanon version cause that’s most easier since I’ve always seen the fanon side of creepypasta when I was into the fandom💗

HAZBIN HOTEL X BEN DROWNED! READER

prompt: after jumping into a tv to hide from being stabbed by Jeff…you accidentally went into a show called HAZBIN HOTEL……

Your dumbass didn’t even check what was on tv…it was just left on as you are now falling to a city in a shape of a…..pentagram?

Welll shit…you are in a hell cartoon…

Meanwhile with Jeff: “where the fuck is that short tacked bitch…” he said holding his knife tightly as his eyes glanced at the tv. “That bastard!”

MEANWHILE WITH YOU: You pointed to a service pole and started to surge through the electrical wire into some random old tv box. You pressed your hand through the tv screen and came out of it. As you came out of it a gasp was heard to see a bunch of characters…..oh boy…

After basically getting chased around the hotel and interrogated…they let you stay by Charlie’s words as she was excited to have another member to her crew at last. 

Few weeks later, they have gotten use to you. I mean Alastor still keeps an eye on you as you play games and go through electronics around the place.

Angel thinks it’s funny for you to hack Valentino’s page to make his bio say “I have a small dick.”

Vaggie makes you go out on errands until she can find you a decent duty at least. But she appreciates how you help around a lot.

Husk thinks your pretty annoying because of your gen z & gen alpha humor. I headcannon ben and you to basically be a media specialist to learn the lingo around and to understand the generation.

“Hey husk…” “hey kid…” “you’re so not alpha male…” “…the fuck?” “Sooo not slay.” “Get the fuck out my face.” *cue you doing a gremlin ass laugh*

I can see Velvette making fun of you for wearing the link fit😭 she would be confused as if you were a stinky cosplayer kid-

“GOOD HELL?! What are you wearing dear..” the female vee says as you look down to your link outfit. “What’s wrong with it? I think I look ✨f a b u l o u s✨” you said with sass

“You look horrendous. THAT’S what you look like.” Velvette says. You rolled your eyes as she snapped her fingers giving you black converses, tan brown pants, and a green hoodie. She had let you keep your link hat as you actually liked how you looked.

Maybe when you get back to slender’s mansion you can spend his card to buy an outfit like this.

I imagine Charlie or niffty trying to wipe off the blood tears of your eyes thinking you were crying as you stand there like “what is going on-🤨” most definitely the face look like this “:T”

Angel dust brought you a gaming set from a thrift shop as you smiled happily at this and started to play….only to find out it had knock off versions of the games in the human world….impta?! (GTA) PENTACRAFT?! (Minecraft) hellmon?? (Pokémon)

You immediately thrown the gaming set outside and decided to go hack Vox’s system for fun again.

I can imagine reader sending random “if you don’t like this, Lucifer is coming for you.” posts to random sinner to fuck with them.

I can DEFINITELY see Alastor asking you to go mess with Vox’s tech even if he doesn’t like those picture boxes. “Ben/Reader, my fine fellow..I got a favor to ask of you.” After he asked you to go mess with this dude named Vox. You smiled as you transported into your own tv and go to the vee tower.

You hacked into Vox’s system as he spit his coffee out to see “nya cat” on all his computers and devices as you snicker seeing Vox’s face trying to fix it. You laughed showing yourself as your bloody tears roll down your face because of laughing. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” Vox asked angrily

“IM YOU! BUT BETTER! GET HACKED LOSER!” You said before disappearing from his system as Vox claws his desk in anger.

Alastor had a good chuckle when you told him what you did. “I never liked this picture boxes…but you my friend, are true entertainment.” After this your relationship with Alastor grew as he would pay you handsomely with snacks as you go and piss Vox off on any other day.

Valentino and Vox hate your guys to the point they want to kill you while Velvette is just chill with you as she helps you with your outfits and aesthetics.

I imagine since Ben drowned also looks like link, you have long hair like link but sometimes cut it down to bit length to not trip on it.

You give off that “new worker at McDonald’s” vibes as you would just play around instead of helping the residents😭

“Can I have keycard?” “….how about no?”

I imagine you just tapping on and off a lamp post boredly as Valentino keeps going towards it and away from. “On….off…on…off…” you liked to mess with people

You had tapped on sir Pentious’s device once and it exploded…yeah you were pretty much banned from his room and lab. But it was worth it.

You definitely wrestle with husk as husk will just try to claw out your eyes only him to just get pepper sprayed by you.

“AGG MY FUCKIN' EYES!!” “I didn’t know this shit would work on demons..”

Lucifer was definitely intrigued with your appearance as you seemed like a human. But also had a demonic appearance. So he questioned you and you just kept saying “SWAG!” He got tired of it and demanded you as the ruler of hell.

It didn’t work as you just shrug with a “:D” face and transported into a wire. Lucifer was bamboozled as he just stood there like “what just happened”

You showed niffty how to beat any person during a game as you, yourself is a hacker and can beat any game personally.

You looked at the phone that you stole from that flat faced dude as you smirked having an idea as you transported into the phone to try and go find Jeff. And lucky you did as he was sitting on the couch watching wrestling.

“Heyyy buddy.” You said looking through the tv to see Jeff. He scoffed seeing that his favorite program was ruined by your face. Jeff turned off the tv. Your face was like a pikachu shocked face. “THAT BITC-”

[kozachenko]

I swear to god, Zanmu has just been on my mind recently, she's taking over my fucking brain please send help

Artist's Note:

Why is it that everytime I do a drawing of Zanmu I always make the canvas size fucking huge and it ends up being a living nightmare to fucking export. I swear to god I had to go from 1200 DPI to 600 to 350.

Exporting hell aside, I loved working on this piece. With Zanmu's design, I wanted to combine all the design details that I love and have seen in other people's drawings of Zanmu and give them my own personal touches. First of all, her sleeves were inspired by @amemenojaku's design for Zanmu, and I absolutley love that detail because not only does it make her feel more regal, it also can be a callback to Satori and old hell, and also gives me the idea that Satori's fashion sense was inspired by Zanmu because IRL a lot of historical fashion was inspired by what the nobles were wearing at the time, and since Satori was around since when Old Hell used to be Hell, she probably took some wardrobe inspo from her (or it could be my headcanon that Satori could've been Zanmu's royal advisor or she was in her court or something but that theory is kinda grasping at strings from other headcanons I have, but that's for a different post). Also, the eye makeup she has was inspired by @jothelion's drawings of Zanmu, and like, I fucking love that detail because it just adds so much like omg I just love it sm.

And now for the design details I put in. I gave Zanmu tassel earrings because I think they'd look great on her. I also really like to exaggerate her hair and really try to make it look wild, as well as having little grey hairs here and there. I also try to add some wrinkles to the corners of her eyes, but TBH I don't know how visible that detail is, since the image is pretty fucking big. I also really exaggerated the tassles/strings on her outfit, since I really wanted to play around with the potential flow they could have. Also, big fan of giving Zanmu longer sleeves and pants. IDK why but I just like how it flows better. Also big fan of making her taller, idk why a lot of fanart makes her short. Also, I placed her horns closer to the front of her head as I just think placing horns in that position looks cool.

Also, if you're wondering about the halo, I took some inspiration from a few of Caravaggio's paintings where he often depicts saints with this very thin halo around the top of their heads. I just liked that detail a lot so I thought I'd include it.

Fun fact, I was originally gonna make the four skeletons Chiyari, Biten, Enoko, and Hisami but I didn't like the prospect of having to draw four more characters, so I chose to replace them with skeletons (if you wanna get silly with it, Zanmu got Hisami to kidnap Aya, set up some skeletons with bones from her bone collection and told her to take a picture of her).

I kinda gave up on Zanmu's feet and the one skeleton's hands (as if drawing hands normally is hard enough but NOPE, HAD TO MAKE IT LIVING HELL FOR MYSELF BY MAKING IT A SKELETON) and the quality of the image may suffer because of how much I had to fucking compress it (Zanmu's presence alone was enough to make the computer lose all of it's desire and motivation to export the drawing of her lmao), but I have been hacking at this piece for a while now, plus I need to learn when to call it quits when it comes to drawings). Also as I was fixing up the hands there was one spot where I forgot to clean up with the sketch and I can't fucking unsee that now and it's going to fucking bother me until I fix it but fixing it requires going back and putting my computer through hell so yeah.

So yeah, that's about all I have to say with this drawing, it was fun but also a nightmare lol

[accio-victuuri]

(candy vault) : alexander mcqueen shoes, nike off white and yibo’s missing mole 🤍

this fandom has lots of candies in the past years and there are ones that fall through the cracks or things that i simply wanna talk about. also for the benefit of new turtles who probably missed it & a good trip down memory lane for those who’ve been here for a while. i made other posts similar to this before and i haven’t done a good old mini compilation so here ya go. ^^

2/23/2021 WYB was in Beijing, participating in the recording of CCTV’s Lantern Festival program in the evening. The actual broadcast was 2/26/2021.

In the materials initially sent out by YBO, for the photos, you couldn’t see AM shoes. Maybe the shoot was better off focusing on his face, which I totally agree, but it was like they didn’t want to focus on it that much. We only saw the shoes when they released the BTS video where it would be tricky to crop it out.

During the actual performance he changed into a more comfortable looking Jimmy Choo shoes. He was wearing AM outfit so it made sense that the shoes should match too. This should’t really be a big deal or even a CPN, only because changing shoes is sort of normal at events like this. Maybe he was more comfortable with the Jimmy Choo, although the choreography for this performance is not that complicated like his other routines. The way I remember it, WYB usually sticks to the shoes he has on.

The CPN alarm bells started going off tho when ZZ flew from Beijing to Shanghai wearing the same style McQueen shoes. He had shooting back in 2/24 and there were some talk that he was more than a half hour late as planned on set. So going by our collective galaxy brain, they could have spent some time together during late 2/23 and some time on 2/24 which is after the CCTV shoot. WYB probably lent the shoe to him or he just got it from their shared closet lol. This is why ZZ was sort of late, because he was with WYB. The pattern of ZZ being later than usual on set when he is with WYB is something that still happens this year. I’m not implying that he is slacking off when he is with WYB but more of just adjusting his schedule so he can accommodate the love of his life. they both deserve that in between their busy schedules.

maybe this is why YBO didn’t want to highlight that on the materials they released 2/26 ; because they knew where the shoe went 😂😂😂

While we’re in the subject of shoes, let’s take it further back with their matching nike off white in 2018. It’s one CPN that is often given as an example but I haven’t discussed on here.

AAAAAHHHHH! I miss the days when they could still wear Nike shoes. Oh well….

Looking through the airport pictures of ZZ before joining the CQL group from 2016 to 2018, there are no pair of Nikes that could often be seen in pictures of him. There are 2 back in 2017. Before CQL, ZZ had quite a variety of shoes, including a few pairs from Adidas. Like WYB, it is obvious that he likes to buy Nike co-branded products, likes to grab the latest models, and even buys more for collection.

Now let’s focus first on the shoes, it’s a collab of Nike air vapormax X off white. There are two shoes of the same style but in different colors. The black model will be available at 3/30/2018 and the white will be available at 4/18/2018. We know that at the time, WYB will surely have what’s new when it comes to NIKE. It’s either it will be sent to him cause he has a relationship with the brand or he will buy it himself. He is known to always wear the latest designs released. He is also a collector, so he most likely bought the black and white version.

WYB wore the white version on 4/28 and ZZ wore the black model on 5/8 based on photos.

As for ZZ, he was recording an episode for a show and he also used this shoe for the rehearsal. It is the same show where he had to dance and the choreography was taught by WYB. We’ve seen this in the BTS and ZZ talked about it himself.

WYB was seen again with the pair during PD101 on 5/10. It’s funny cause this is the same day where XZ was filmed candidly behind the scenes and he said he hasn’t seen LWJ all day.

These two. Honestly. They only formally “met” and then started shoot 4/16 and it hasn’t even been a month but they already have a couple shoe and ZZ was out there emoting about missing LWJ/WYB? It’s a common discussion that leads to alternative timelines like DT or 2017 or it could just be that it’s one of those rare instance where you connect with someone so quickly.

I have 3 possible explanations:

1. It’s totally unrelated. They bought their pairs separately since they like the style and collab.

2. WYB gave the shoe to XZ. I am a fan of both of them giving gifts to each other. And if you are someone who believed XZ gave him a lego set even before they started filming as a gesture of goodwill then this should make more sense to you. Also WYB is known to give gifts and that includes shoes ( for example SDC 3, he gave out multiple pairs ). This reasoning is not necessarily a CPN of them being boyfriends, but more of being close enough to give each other gifts. and not just the usual one you would give to a colleague cause if WYB only has the white and XZ has the black, it’s a couple shoe. WYB low key hinting at the prospect if them being a pair and XZ accepting it.

3. They bought it together, as you would when you’re with a friend and are scrolling through shopping apps together. I think there are fake rumors of that, the two, in between takes scroll through their phones and buy each other stuff or same style clothes. Again, it doesn’t necessarily mean boyfriend behavior, but more of being close enough to do that.

A clue for that is WYB was seen with the black pair during CQL filming around early 6/2018. You can clown that he is wearing ZZ’s shoes or he did buy the 2 kinds for his own and ZZ got the black only.

Lastly is the stolen mole!!!!! ♥️

Since cpfs are obsessing over WYB’s very visible mole from the Bazaar shoot.

It’s one of my favorite fake and it basically says, The reason why WYB cares so much about ZZ’s mole under the lip, is because WYB also had one like this when he was little. The elders in the family said it’s something good and it means he will have a happy life. However the mole disappeared. Or i guess in his case it’s not as prominent and has faded instead.

While filming, GG has scenes where he didn’t have make up or it gets taken off because of the heat. WYB looks at him closely and points out his lip mole, saying that he had something like that before but it disappeared. GG then added that his mom told him that his mole appeared only after a while when he was young.

That’s when WYB said GG stole his mole. When it disappeared, the mole transferred to GG 😂😂😂

Maybe this is why WYB is so fixated with his mole that he even includes it in his drawing of XZ/WWX.

-END.

[knickynoo]

Back to the Future Part II, The Novel by Craig Shaw Gardner: Thoughts, commentary, and general ramblings

Part 6: A weird-looking old man and a little guy in a leather jacket.

Previous posts here

• Instead of describing Doc as a “crazy, wild-eyed old man,” Old Biff says, “a weird-looking old man,” which is just so personal, lol

• There’s an interesting scene where Marty is almost caught in Biff’s garage. The shouting between Biff and his grandmother isn’t there to alert Marty, and instead, Biff just walks straight out to the garage. Marty thinks it’s Doc who has come to rescue him and calls out, which Biff hears. Marty then hides in the car, and waits as Biff looks around a bit before getting distracted.

• I really want the full scene of Doc scrambling to get that new hat and bike so he can head over to Biff’s house. The book mentions that he’d bought the bike a few hours prior (then had to wait for it to get dark enough) but I’d love to see how that played out. I also want Marty doing his shopping for his Inconspicuous outfit.

• Marty has a very funny response to Doc reminding him to be careful at the dance since his other self is there with Lorraine. “Yeah, that’s right! Hey, that’s cool, Doc. Maybe I’ll say hello to myself.”

This is followed immediately by, “’No!’ Doc felt like he might have a heart attack.”

And what I want to know is: is Marty just being a wisenheimer, or is he genuinely considering stopping to chit-chat with his other self? I could honestly see it going either way with Marty.

• This chapter is giving me a few good chuckles so far. Marty enters the dance and it says, “He stepped through, and found himself in the same alcove where he’d had that heart-to-heart with his future parents—the one about being nice when your son sets fire to the rug.”

Why don’t we have any definitive information on The Rug Incident? That story should’ve been included in the comics. I need to know what unfolded that day. Why did Marty set the rug on fire? Was it purely accidental? Did little Marty go through an arsonist phase?

I demand answers.

• When we return to Doc, who is still riding his bike all over the place, he ends up at the Peabody farm. There’s a cop there talking to Mr. Peabody, who’s recounting the alien encounter he had. Which…doesn’t make much sense to me since this is a week now since the “flying saucer” originally crashed into his barn. But I guess this has been an ongoing ordeal, and Otis has been trying to get someone to take him seriously.

Anyway, Doc is worried that they might actually stumble upon where he’s hidden the DeLorean behind the billboard, so he goes over and announces that he saw the spacecraft take off wayyy in the other direction. The police officer and Otis immediately take off in search of it.

• I wish I got a dollar for every time in this novel that Marty has said, “Yo, Doc!” because I would have many dollars.

• Lester (Wallet Guy) describes Marty to Biff as, “A little guy in a leather jacket.” So true, Lester. He IS just a little guy in a leather jacket.

• Ok, OK!! So! Two things to mention about the scene after the dance where Marty runs into Biff outside the door. After Biff calls him chicken, Marty once again recalls that, per his mother’s repeated suggestions, he’s supposed to count to 10 when he’s upset. And as he wrestles with his feelings, he thinks, “Maybe he always felt he needed to do this because he was so short.” !!!!! May I direct you to this ask and poll? There you have it, folks. Marty (book Marty, at least) is quite aware of his height and ALSO aware that it might be the reason he wants to fight at the slightest provocation.

• I already always feel bad for the Western Union guy when I watch the movie, and this makes me feel even more sorry for him. He gets no closure!!! He will NEVER know what the 70-year-old mystery letter was all about. The most disappointed voice Marty has ever heard!!

• We close with the scene of Marty running back to the clock tower. However, his revealing his presence to Doc is pretty different in the book than it is in the movie. We’re told, “Marty stepped out of the shadow of the courthouse. He tapped Doc on the shoulder.”

I mean. It definitely doesn’t have The Flair of Marty running full speed and dramatically spinning Doc to face him, but it is funny. He just. Steps out from the shadows and gives him a little tap. A gentle, “Um, hi, hello, I’m back.” Amuses me to think about.

This is how I imagine it, btw.

• The book ends with Doc passing out and Marty legitimately fearing that Doc may have just DIED before his very eyes, and how will he ever get home now?

I guess we’ll find out in the part III novel! Stay tuned.

[lowkeyrobin]

Hey! So if you're writing ghostbusters things right now (apologies if you arent, my Tumblr is acting up and it's not letting me see some of the fonts its just squares 😑) anyway I would love to request a podcast x reader of you're up for that because the dude does not get enough love 😔😔

I was thinking like the reader was childhood friends (mayyybeee first crushes?) but the reader moved to NYC and is now a regular at rays occult and now meets the reader again? What do we think?

Anyway hope you write this and have a GREAT day/night 😊

it's okay!! my requests r open as long as my mailbox is available haha, can't rlly stop ppl from requesting if it's still up so yeah dw ; but yeah of course! this actually sounds rlly fun to write lol ; have a good day/night to you too! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy :) ; also since we don't know much about podcast I kinda made some stuff up, I've watched both afterlife and frozen empire at least 3 times each so... hopefully I gathered all the canon podcast lore idk ; also reqs back open! gonna post the rest of the queue then work on anything yall send

PODCAST ; i think we're alone now

summary ; a little childhood best friends/first crushes reunite at rays occult books

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; we don't know a whole lot about podcast so I made some a lot stuff up lol ; also I'm just using Logan's name as podcasts legal name bc idk what else to call him + I just use actor names to fill in names in other movies/shows

track ; i think we're alone now ; tiffany

word count ; 1k

masterlist

Your first crush was silly and dumb, being on your at-the-time best friend, Logan, or Podcast, as he was now mostly known. He always had a fascination for film and commentary, no wonder he had his own podcast.

You'd recently moved to New York, surprisingly, where Podcast also lived these days. You reconnected over social media and found out you'd be living near each other again like the good old days, and decided to meet up once you got comfortable in the new environment. And that's what had happened. You now await his arrival at Ray's Occult Books, where you skim through the bookshelves, reading each spine to see if any title jumped out at you.

The bell above the door jingles, causing you to look up to see who it is again. Him, thankfully.

He scans the store, looking for you. Ray nods his head toward you, leading him right to you.

He smiles as he approaches, stuffing his phone in his jorts pocket. "Hey"

"Hey," you reply, a soft smile pulling on the corners of your lips.

"Uh, how are you?" He asks, clearly struggling to make conversation.

"Good, I like your outfit," you reply, pointing out his colorful collared shirt. Even now, it reflected his curious and extroverted personality.

He glances down at his shirt, having forgotten what he was even wearing, "Oh, thanks! Uh, do you wanna go walk around or something?" He asks, glancing over at Ray, staring you two down at the counter.

"Sure"

You end up strolling around the city, catching up and talking about life until you retrieve to the basement of Ray's Occult Books, where Podcast was currently living for the summer. He already told you how he was supposed to be at summer camp and how he'd been consecutively lying to his mom. You already knew that was pretty in character for him. He wasn't great at fitting in and would've rather stayed with people he knew and his other actual friend, Phoebe.

You let some of the mini marshmallow pufts climb all over you, using you like a giant stool. A few use your arms as little slides. Logan takes a picture, framing your goofy smile while another mini puft jumps off your head and onto your shoulder.

A few slide down your left arm back onto the desk, then use your right hand as an elevator to go again. As you hoist a little group back up to your shoulder, Logan is now recording on his phone, laughing behind the camera.

"They're so cute," You happy-pout, looking at him for a moment.

Oh, how he wanted to pull the Uno reverse card on you with that, but he couldn't. He thought about it far too long, then backed out because he was too scared, but told himself it was just to late.

You look around his room, two of the little pufts sitting on your head like Remy in Ratatouille. You note all the posters and little trinkets and things around the room, making a weak assumption that he just liked collecting little random things.

You notice the orange lava lamp sitting on his bedside table, turned on, and providing an orange glow throughout that corner of the room. It shines off the side of Logan's face, creating an omniscient kind of glow that you can't look away from.

Denying you still had a crush on him would just make this even worse.

He looks back at you after saving the video to his photos and putting it in his Friends and Shenanigans folders, catching you quickly looking away. He raises an eyebrow, seeing your slightly jittery movements as you use your hand as an elevator for the mini pufts again. They don't keep it a secret though, 'oo'ing and 'ah'ing and bouncing on your shoulders and head.

You can feel your face flushing, attempting to hide it by not looking back at him.

The mini pufts land back on the desk, skattering behind the array of glass jars. You look back at him, seeing he's already looking at you. He's close, closer than you remembered, you felt closer to him, really.

You look down at the mini pufts at your feet, wondering if you'd zoned out as they slid you across the floor. You look back up at Logan, giving you that same soft look you were giving him.

Look, what a funny, simple word. There was no other word for that almost hypnotizing gaze shared between the two of you. There was so much tension. So much so that it was killing the mini pufts. They wanted to shove you into each other to just kiss already.

"I think we're alone now," He quietly speaks, glancing down at the desk where the mini pufts had flee'd from.

The beating of your hearts was the only sound as you pressed your hands against his jawline, his hands slinking down to your waist. You press your lips to his for a moment, then again and again before properly pulling away.

He opens his eyes, a grin painting his face. He pecks your lips once more before he knows you'll say that you have to leave.

"I have to go, I think my mom's waiting outside"

"Okay"

He watches as you stumble up the basement stairs, your face flushed. A smile still tugs at his lips, cheeks a light shade of pink.

The mini pufts come out from hiding and cheer him on, then flick the lights off to reveal colorful LED lights and a disco ball. He sighs with a pout, unable to hide the joy behind it.

"Okay, okay, party's over. We have an episode to record"

[marimbles]

Ey I forgot to post this here but! I wrote a lil ladrien fic!

Word count: 3.2k

Summary:

Ladybug sniffed. “I saw through you right away. You look just like a celebrity trying to sneak past the paparazzi.”

Adrien frowned. “Well, I think I blend in better than you do. What are you supposed to be, a film noir detective on holiday?”

Or, Incognito Adrien runs into I'm-Not-Here Ladybug on the bus.

Mr. Perfect Disguise

13:38

adrienagrestbrand

HALLELUJAH! My shoot was canceled!

lahiffesbeats

oh sweet!

wait the one with Lila?

adrienagrestbrand

Yes!!!

Apparently she caught the flu

lahiffesbeats

uhh why are you so excited that lila’s sick. that’s not cool man

adrienagrestbrand

Oh um I’m not excited that she’s sick! I’m just glad to have some extra time.

One of my mom’s movies is playing at this indie cinema downtown. Want to go see it with me?

lahiffesbeats

aw man, i cant :( im watching chris

adrienagrestbrand

Maybe you could bring him?

lahiffesbeats

nah, he can’t sit still during a movie lol

maybe alya is free?

adrienagrestbrand

Uh, you don’t think that would be a bit awkward?

lahiffesbeats

why

adrienagrestbrand

I mean, Alya is great, but we never hang out with just the two of us.

lahiffesbeats

ok so ask marinette

adrienagrestbrand

I don’t think Marinette would want to go with me 😅 Last time we went to the movies together, Gorizilla showed up and it was kind of a disaster.

I think I’ll just go on my own. I’m not sure the movie would be that interesting to any of you anyway, haha.

lahiffesbeats

well i know for a fact that marinette would be 3000% down to go to literally any movie with u but ok lmao

adrienagrestbrand

What do you mean? How do you know for a fact?

lahiffesbeats

nvm

have fun dude!

adrienagrestbrand

Sorry, but would you mind covering for me? I told Gorilla I was going to study with you.

lahiffesbeats

sure thing bro. i’m honored to protect your scandalous sneaky ways

i’m proud. honestly i might tear up

adrienagrestbrand

Thanks

And shut up

Gorilla will drop me off in a few, OK? Then when the coast is clear I’ll head over to the theater

lahiffesbeats

How are you gonna get there

adrienagrestbrand

I’ll take the bus

lahiffesbeats

the bus?

mr. famous rich boy teenage heartthrob model adrien agreste is gonna take the bus

adrienagrestbrand

Yes

And shut up

lahiffesbeats

bro i hate to ask but have you ever been on a bus

like do you know how it works

adrienagrestbrand

Yes!!!!

No

But how hard can it be? You just get on and pay the driver and ride it, right?

Wait, do they give change back for 100€?

lahiffesbeats

probably not lol

just take my travel pass

adrienagrestbrand

Really? You’d do that?

lahiffesbeats

ofc. i’m very invested in your teenage rebellion

u can give it back tmw

adrienagrestbrand

Thanks, Nino!! You’re the best

lahiffesbeats

yeah, yeah. i know

just have ur bodydude drop u off here and i will help u turn on Incognito Mode. for maximum stealth

i will make you a kit

adrienagrestbrand

A kit?

lahiffesbeats

yee

for Operation Teenage Rebellion

just trust me

see u in a few

adrienagrestbrand

See you

— — —

“Uh, Nino, are you sure about this?”

Adrien frowned down at his outfit. Nino’s “Incognito Mode” had turned out to be a pair of sunglasses, his signature red hat, and an old denim jacket with a mysterious stain on it, which he insisted Adrien wear to hide the fact that his shirt “cost literally a million Euros, dude.” He’d even made Adrien swap out his orange Agreste-brand sneakers for pair of Nino’s old Nike slides, which were the only thing small enough to fit him.

“Have I ever led you wrong?” Nino grinned. “Just trust me.”

Adrien opened his mouth to name a time or two when Nino had, maybe, actually, led him wrong, but before he could say anything, Nino was nudging him out the door.

“Sorry, man, I really gotta get back to Chris. And you gotta get to the bus.” He shoved a plastic sack into Adrien’s hands. “Later! Keep me posted.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Adrien peered into the bag. It contained a neon yellow sports drink, a pack of American crisps with a cartoon cheetah on them, and a plastic blue card, which he assumed was Nino’s transit pass.

The bus would arrive in just a few minutes. Adrien hurried down the steps of Nino’s building and jogged to the corner to wait.

Soon, the bus rolled to a stop in front of him. He climbed aboard, pulling Nino’s hat lower over his eyes. The woman in front of him drew a ticket from her pocket.

“Oh—shoot.” Adrien reached into the bag and grabbed the blue card. The plastic rustled loudly. Blushing, he tapped the plastic card on the reader with a beep.

There was photo of Nino on the back of the card. Adrien’s hand shot back. He glanced up nervously at the bus driver, who was busy adjusting his mirror. Adrien’s muscles relaxed.

He followed the woman into the aisle. At this time of day, it was a crowded ride—standing room only. He squeezed through to an empty space next to a girl in a sunhat, pulling out his phone.

adrienagrestbrand

Why didn’t you tell me your transit card is also an ID??

lahiffesbeats

eh, they never check

how is operation teenage rebellion going

adrienagrestbrand

Well, I’m on the bus, at least.

lahiffesbeats

:’) proud of you, bud. my little rebel bro. breaking the law and everything

adrienagrestbrand

Wait, using someone else’s travel pass is illegal???

Before Adrien had a chance to fixate on the horror of his father bailing him out of jail (in this outfit), the bus took off with a lurch. He stumbled forward, nearly dropping his phone and treading on the toes of the girl in the hat.

“Sorry,” he said with a wince. So much for staying inconspicuous. He reached out and gripped one of the metal handlebars, tucking his other hand into his pocket. His fingers found his Marinette lucky charm, rolling the beads between his fingers.

“Oh, um, it’s fine!” The girl ducked her head. “It’s not a problem.”

Adrien blinked. There was something familiar about her. And something strange. Maybe it was the dark trenchcoat, which looked too heavy for the mild weather. Or maybe it was her wide-brimmed hat, more suitable for a beach than a crowded city bus.

He glanced down at her black leather gloves. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was trying to hide, just like him.

The bus rounded a corner, and despite his hold on the bar, Adrien staggered to the side. His free hand was thrown out wildly to try to keep his balance, and he nearly hit the girl on the nose.

“Sorry! Sorry,” he said quickly, scrambling back into place. His neck burned underneath the collar of his jacket.

“Don’t worry about it,” the girl mumbled.

Adrien shoved his hand back into his pocket and froze. His lucky charm was missing.

He scanned the floor and spotted it next to the girl’s boot.

“Um, excuse me, miss,” he said. “Would you mind handing me that? I dropped it.”

The girl peered down where he was pointing, face still hidden from view. Then she seemed to stiffen, frozen in place as she stared at the charm.

“Um, miss?”

She scooped it up and held it out to him, head bowed. “Here you go.”

“Thank y—” he started to say, but the words got lost on their way out. The girl’s hand was still outstretched, and he stared at the gap between her sleeve and her glove.

It was bright red, with a black spot.

The bus hissed to a stop. People clamored to their feet.

“Ladybug?” he whispered.

Her head snapped up. He caught a glimpse of her wide eyes through a pair of oversized sunglasses. Then she shot to her feet and pushed past him.

“Wait!” he called. He stumbled after her, down the steps and out the door. “Wait, please!”

She didn’t turn around. Just strode quickly down the street, the brim of her hat flopping with each step.

He broke into a jog and to catch up with her. “Ladybug!”

“I’m not—uh—who’s Ladybug?” She let out a breathless laugh. “Or, I mean, of course I’m not Ladybug. Why would you think that?”

“I, uh, saw your suit. Could you stop for a second?”

“No! I have to ca—I have … important business to attend to.”

“Um, before you do that, would you mind giving me back my lucky charm?”

She came to a halt, and he almost ran into her.

“Right,” she said quickly. “Here you go.”

She shoved the charm at him—he had to fumble not to drop it—and kept walking. But Adrien wasn’t willing to lose her that fast.

“What kind of business?” he asked quickly, dropping the charm into his plastic sack.

“Superhero business. Top secret.”

“Well, if it’s superhero stuff, then, um … why isn’t Chat Noir here too?”

“Because! It’s not—he isn’t—” She let out a little huff. “Because he wouldn’t get it. I have to do this alone.”

“I don’t think you ever have to do anything alone,” Adrien said. “Maybe he would get it if you explained.”

Finally, she stopped. Even with the double layer of her mask and her sunglasses, he could feel the weight of her gaze. “Why are you following me, Adrien?”

He blinked. “I … I didn’t realize you’d recognized me.”

“Well, um, that disguise isn’t very good.”

“It’s not?” He glanced down, suddenly feeling very self-conscious of the stained jacket and open-toed shoes. There was even a hole in the toe of his sock—Plagg kept stealing all of his good ones, and he always forgot to ask Nathalie for more.

Ladybug sniffed. “Not for me, anyway. I saw through you right away. You look just like a celebrity trying to sneak past the paparazzi.”

Adrien frowned. “Well, I think I blend in better than you do. What are you supposed to be, a film noir detective on holiday?”

Ladybug stiffened, and Adrien’s stomach dropped. He’d done it again. He’d let a stupid joke fall out of his stupid mouth, and now his lady was upset with him—this time, with Adrien him.

But Ladybug didn’t scoff, or cross her arms, or do any of the things she usually did when she didn’t like his jokes. Instead, she groaned, flattening the sides of her big, floppy hat to her head.

“This is so embarrassing,” she muttered. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It’s—it’s not that bad,” Adrien tried, but Ladybug just buried her face in her hands.

“Ugh! This stupid suit!” Her head snapped up. “If you have any better suggestions, Mr. Perfect Disguise, I’m all ears.”

“You could just … detransform?”

She froze again, and before she could say anything, he went on in a rush.

“I mean, if you don’t want to be noticed, couldn’t you just take the bus as, like, yourself? And then just transform when you get to wherever you’re going? That would draw less attention. Unless, by chance, you daylight as a circus clown.”

He laughed awkwardly, mentally kicking himself for cracking another bad joke. But to his surprise, she laughed too.

“Nope,” she said. “That’s Chat Noir’s civilian identity. I’m just a normal girl with a normal life.”

He clung to the echo of her laugh, letting it fill him up with a hesitant sort of confidence he couldn’t resist testing.

“Aw, come on, mila—Ladybug,” he dared to say. “I’m sure there is nothing about you that isn’t special. Spots or no spots.”

“You’re wrong. I’m super normal. The normalest.”

“No way.

“Yes way! I bet—” She seemed to hesitate. “I bet I could sit behind you at school and you wouldn’t even notice me.”

“Lies,” Adrien said. “I would definitely notice.”

“Right. Well … um, wow, would you look at the time!” She let out a nervous laugh, glancing down at an invisible watch on her wrist. “I’d better be off. It was nice to love you, Adrien—I mean, nice to see you. Bug out!”

She spun on her heel, and without his permission, his hand shot out to stop her.

“Um,” he said, “do you—I mean … well, I still don’t get why you’re in disguise. Do you need help with something?”

“No! I mean, thanks, that’s okay, but I really need to … oh.” Her voice trailed off, mouth falling open.

“What is it?”

“I was going somewhere, but I guess now I don’t … need to.”

“What do you mean?”

She held his gaze, biting her lip, and then released a breath, her words spilling out in a rush. “I heard you and Lila were gonna have a photoshoot today, so I was going over there to, like, stake it out and stop her from whatever terrible thing she was planning. But I was worried that if I wasn’t suited up already I’d have to find a place to transform and that could take forever because do you even know how hard it is to find a decent hiding place in one of the biggest cities in Europe?”

“Well—”

“And by the time I hid and transformed and got back, who knows what kind of damage she could’ve done? So I was like, ‘Okay, I’ll just have to suit up beforehand so I’m ready for action at a moment’s notice.’ But there really isn’t much that can cover a whole supersuit, so I stole—borrowed—my mom’s coat and the hat she bought for her trip to Côte d'Azur last year because, I mean, she literally never wears it, and I was gonna put it right back when I was done, and I couldn’t use any of my hats because they don’t have a big enough brim to hide my mask. Because, like, even with sunglasses on you can still see it, so I thought I could just kind of, like, bow my head and it would be fine—”

“Ladybug—”

“—and of course Tik—my friend told me it wasn’t a good idea, but I just couldn’t let anything happen because I’m the only one who knows what Lila’s capable of. So I’m the only one who can stop her.”

At last, Ladybug paused, breathing heavily, looking flushed beneath her mask.

“This is about Lila?” Adrien asked. “What were you afraid she was gonna do?”

She was definitely blushing now, pink spilling out from under all her layers of disguise. “Well—I don’t know! She would think of something! She’s a liar. Or—I mean …” She breathed in, closing her eyes briefly. “She is at high risk for akumatization. Or getting others akumatized.”

Adrien nodded. “I know.”

“You—you do?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I thought you did, at one point, but then you started doing all these photoshoots with her, and you guys seem pretty … friendly.” She made a face at the word, like it was something slimy and poisonous. “I mean, like, being all cuddly and couple-y and—like, if you’re dating Lila, that’s … that’s fine, I just have to, um, warn you that—”

“We’re not dating,” Adrien cut in. “We’re not even friends.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” he said firmly. “The photoshoots are my father’s idea, and I kind of let Lila do what she wants with them because, well, I made a deal with her.”

Ladybug frowned. “What kind of deal?”

“I told her I would do the shoots with her if she’d leave my friend Marinette alone. Lila got her expelled from school temporarily. She almost got her akumatized. It was terrible.”

“You … you did that?” Ladybug asked, sounding strangely distant. “You did that for Marinette?”

Adrien nodded. “She’s really important to me. I couldn’t let anything else happen to her. I mean, I hate having to hang around Lila and pretend to be her friend, but”—he shrugged—“it’s worth it. To keep Marinette safe.”

Ladybug appeared to be in some kind of daze. She wandered to the edge of the walkway, sinking down onto a bench.

“Is something wrong?” Adrien asked.

She shook her head slowly, taking in a deep breath. “That’s, um, really nice of you, Adrien.” A pause. “You’re a good friend.”

He sat down beside her. “You know Marinette, right?”

“Yeah,” Ladybug said. “Yeah, I know her.”

“Then please don’t tell her about this. I don’t want her to feel guilty or anything. She has enough on her plate already. She does so much, and she cares about people more than anyone I know, and I don’t want this to be one more thing for her to worry about, you know?”

“Right.”

Adrien pulled his lucky charm from the sack. “She’s the one who gave this to me. Maybe it’s silly, but I feel like it brings me good luck. I always carry it with me wherever I go. My Marinette lucky charm.”

“That’s …” She looked down, hiding her face under the brim of her hat. “That’s really sweet.”

“Maybe … maybe this is what made me run into you today. At least, I feel like it’s good luck to see you.” He paused, smile faltering. “But maybe it wasn’t so lucky for you that I, like, chased you down. Sorry about that.”

She raised her head. “No! I’m really glad we ran into each other. Maybe that thing is lucky after all.”

“But you don’t need luck anyway, huh? You’re Ladybug.”

She laughed, and for the first time, she leaned her head back, lifting her face to the sky. “Trust me. I need all the luck I can get.”

For a moment, they just sat there, watching the people passing by. It was strange, to sit side by side like this with Ladybug—exactly like he’d done a thousand times before, but nothing was the same. A bench instead of a rooftop. The street instead of the sky. And Paris, bustling all around them, instead of twinkling from below.

He liked it like this. (He liked it any way, with her.)

“So,” she said, “were you not actually supposed to have a photoshoot today?”

“I was, but it was canceled.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because Lila has a huge zit.”

Ladybug’s eyes widened, and then she snorted as her face crumpled with laughter.

“I’m serious,” Adrien went on. “It’s enormous. Like, a category 5 disaster event.”

“You’re lying! They’d just cover it with makeup.”

“You can’t cover a geographical landmark with makeup,” Adrien said gravely.

Ladybug doubled over, clutching her sides as she howled. He laughed with her, feeling almost weightless with the thrill of it. He was laughing with his lady, without his mask. He’d made her laugh, and she knew it was him, and when she lifted her head again, the smile on her face (big, bright, beautiful, brilliant) was for him, Adrien Agreste, and no one else.

Finally, Ladybug straightened, nudging her sunglasses up on her nose to wipe at her eye.

“Wanna go out with me?” Adrien blurted.

She froze. “What?”

“I mean—sorry!” Adrien shook his head quickly. “I was on my way to a movie. And since you’re free now, and you’ve already got your disguise, I thought maybe you’d want to … come with me? Or—or not! I don’t mean to presume any—”

“Yes,” she said.

“Wait. Really?”

“Yes, I’d, um …” She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’d love to go with you.”

Warmth shot through him like a firecracker, and he felt his face split into a grin. “Great. I’ve always wanted to see a movie with Beach Vibes Sherlock Holmes.”

She laughed. “Lead the way, Mr. Perfect Disguise.”

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 20)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 12,880

Summary: An invitation takes Horacio and Javier back to Medellín, a city that has changed as much as they have since they were last in it. Amongst the celebrations, can they find a way to reconcile the old with the new?

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Emotional smut, religious themes, discussions of canon-typical violence and past trauma, grief, healing, allusions to period-typical prejudices, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: So, this chapter took on a life of its own and ended up a lot bigger than it was originally supposed to be, oops lol. The initial idea was for this and chapter 21 to be chapter 20, but, as you can see, it didn't quite work out like that 😂

The majority of chapter 21 is done, I just need to finish it off but life (and covid...again) have been getting in the way lately.

After that, I just have chapter 22 and a short epilogue to do, then fin. So, I promise we are very nearly there now! Ideally, I'd like it all done by the end of autumn, but that might not be possible...let's see how it goes.

Thank you once again to anyone still reading and waiting for updates, your patience is greatly appreciated (as always, please feel free to drop me a line if you’d like to, I love hearing from you!)❤️

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested (and there's quite a few new points for this one, as I ended up doing a lot of research lol).

Chapter 20: Something Old, Something New

Dappled light filtered through the Venetian blinds, splintering across the polished wooden furnishings and along the plush carpeted floor, bathing the hotel room in tints of gold. No traces remained of yesterday’s rain after a warm start to the morning, and the forecast miraculously looked promising for the hours ahead.

Horacio stood facing a floor-length mirror, his fingers wrestling with his jacket and a Cattleya orchid buttonhole until he tutted and gave up. It was the final addition to his outfit: a three-piece mid-grey suit, a pale olive green dress shirt, a bottle green tie and dark brown shoes.

“Come here.” Javier abandoned fastening his burgundy tie, letting it hang untied and loose around his neck. Instead, he took the buttonhole from Horacio and delicately pinned the flower on his left lapel. It matched the one already placed on his navy blue three-piece, which he had teamed with a rose-pink dress shirt and black shoes.

“Thanks. It’s been a long time since I’ve worn one of these. I’m out of practice.” The last wedding Horacio attended had been a friend of Juliana’s, and for some reason, attaching a flower to his jacket was trickier than his CNP lapel pins.

“At least the last time wasn’t your own wedding…which you never actually made it to.”

“Fair point.”

Javier smoothed down Horacio’s lapels, slow caresses on either side, chestnut lost in charcoal as he took all of him in. “Beautiful.”

“Likewise.” Horacio’s fingers slid up to Javier’s tie and worked their magic, managing a knot neater than Javier could ever make. He positioned and repositioned it at the collar until it was symmetrical.

“Satisfied?”

“Hmm, not quite.” He took hold of the length of the tie, pulling Javier down a couple of inches to his height, fresh mint and aftershave hitting their senses as they settled into it, careful not to squash the flowers at their breast.

Javier breathed hard against Horacio’s mouth. “I take it we haven’t got time for—”

“Absolutely not.” Although Horacio was panting as he re-straightened Javier’s tie, the sight of each other in formal wear a distracting novelty. “We’re meeting Steve downstairs in 5 minutes.”

“Shame. I miss Madrid already.”

“Our bed will still be there when we get back.”

“Who said anything about a bed?”

“Come on, we can’t be late,” Horacio reiterated with great reluctance, avoiding the look he knew Javier was giving him. “You ready?”

Javier took a deep breath and picked up the invitation from the nearby nightstand, his eyes scanning over the details one last time.

Juana Marisol Vargas Restrepo

Y

Felipe Gabriel Trujillo Rojas

Con la bendición de sus familias, te invitan a celebrar su boda

(With the blessing of their families, they invite you to celebrate their wedding)

El sábado, 21 de enero de 1995

(Saturday 21st January, 1995)

A las tres de la tarde

(At 3 in the afternoon)

Iglesia del Señor de las Misericordias, Manrique

(Church of the Lord of the Mercies, Manrique)

Recepción a seguir en el Jardín Botánico de Medellín

(Reception to follow at the Botanical Garden of Medellín)

“I think so. Of all the churches in Medellín, though.”

Horacio let out a wry huff to match Javier’s. “I know. The bride’s choice, apparently. Plus, it’s close by for the reception.”

Javier hummed, his eyes still glued to the invitation as if the antidote to the discomfort simmering in the pit of his stomach was hidden between the lines.

“You okay?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine. It was always gonna be like this. Wasn’t it? Being back here.”

“I don’t think there’s a way around it. But at least it’s a celebration this time.” Horacio placed a gentle kiss on Javier’s forehead. “And it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

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

After locating Steve, they shared a taxi to the church, where they met Connie and Olivia on account of Olivia being in a particularly fussy mood.

“I think it’s the travelling and being out of routine. She was up early this morning. So, of course, she’s tired now.” Connie gestured towards Olivia, fast asleep in her dad’s arms, before hugging Javier and Horacio.

“You look stunning, love the dress,” Javier said, noticing he owned a shirt in the same shade of turquoise.

“Aw thank you, you all look so handsome!” Connie stood back to admire them then leaned in to kiss Steve. “And not hungover?” she added with a raised brow, rubbing away the smudge of lipstick left behind on his cheek. “I take it I need to thank Horacio again for keeping you in one piece?”

It took Horacio a second to get what Connie was referring to. But then he remembered a paralytic pair of DEA agents slumped in the back of his car, alongside practically carrying Javier to his bedroom, removing his outer layers and plying him with water, then lying him on his side with a pillow behind his back.

Horacio had been heading for the door when a slurred noise over his shoulder stopped him. One that sounded suspiciously like “Stay.” He couldn’t prove it or ask for clarification. But nor could he leave. So, he stayed until he was reassured Javier was safe and sleeping soundly. Then he tiptoed home, relieved the next day to find Javier had no recollection of any of it.

“I don’t know about that,” Horacio said in the here and now. “We were all on our best behaviour for today.”

“Yeah, Murphy needs his beauty sleep these days. Isn’t that right?” Javier threw a wink in Steve’s direction and wondered if Connie’s choice of words meant what he thought they did.

“Well, some of us actually have to go to work, Peña,” Steve shot back with a self-satisfied curl of the lips.

Connie playfully slapped Steve on the shoulder. “Ignore him, he’s just jealous.”

“Can’t even deny it.”

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

Guests began to file up the stone steps into the church, the Murphys following once they had roused Olivia awake, with Javier and Horacio hanging back at the top of the stairs.

Their arms rested over the balcony wall as they surveyed the road beneath. There was no CNP vehicle parked up this time, but instead, a hive of activity with guests being dropped off and a space reserved for the bride’s imminent arrival.

“It feels like a fucking lifetime ago, doesn’t it?”

“It was.”

“I, er, never saw her again. Helena, I mean. I secured her a visa – figured it was the least I could do after everything. But she took her kid and ran before I could give it to her. Her neighbour said she was staying with her sister in Peru, but…who knows?”

Javier wasn’t sure if she even had a sister, but he always hoped it was the truth. He always hoped she and her family were safe and that she found the strength to put what happened behind her. But of course, he had no fucking clue if these were comforting lies he’d told himself over the years. It wasn’t love, whatever they had. Far from it. He knew that back then let alone now. But for a short while, they cared in their own way, and as much as their circumstances and jobs allowed them to.

“Probably for the best. It wouldn’t have been safe here.”

“No, I made sure of that.” Javier’s hand dug harshly into the jagged stone, leaving dents in his skin until the subtle and discreet touch of a finger made contact with his own, pulling him out of his spiralling self-flagellation. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t plan on bringing all this up. Especially not today.”

“It’s okay. And it’s not like we ever really talked about it at the time.”

It had been a sore point for Horacio, not that he understood why back then. Of course, he knew Helena wasn’t the first or the last, but he could see whatever they had, however short-lived, went beyond the mere transactional. He’d never seen Javier so worried for an informant, and as it turned out, he had every reason to be. Then, she stopped being a threat and became yet another victim.

“Funnily enough, no. You just took it out on Steve instead.”

A knowing look eased the tension in an instant.

“Could you blame me?”

“Absolutely not. Especially when he was encroaching on your territory.”

Javier couldn’t resist a wink, which caused a muttered “Fuck you” followed by their shoulders shaking in unison.

Once calm was restored, Horacio turned to face the church, the wall bearing the brunt of his weight. “Looking back now, though, I don’t think I should’ve been so surprised by what you did for me in Cartagena and Tolú.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I did the same for you that night here in Medellín.”

Javier joined Horacio; both now stood side by side, their gaze meeting in an acknowledgement of the rich history that existed between them that no words could ever fully convey.

And with the scattered remnants of their past now confined to distant memories they could at last put behind them, they made their way into the church. 

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

A waterfall of roses, carnations and orchids tied together with matching ribbons cascaded a rainbow of purple, yellow and white down the rows of pews. The flowers were supplied by the mother of the groom, who conveniently was a florist by profession. Every August, Medellín burst into bloom for Feria de las Flores, so if anyone was going to be in charge of the arrangements, it was her.

Candles lit a path from the aisle to the altar, reminding Horacio not only of Día de las Velitas but of his and Javier’s recreation of the festival during their first Christmas in Laredo. He was about to take a seat when he caught a flash of green dress uniform in the wings of the church and a pair of dark eyes picking him out of the congregation.

He excused himself to the sacristy at the side of the altar.

Trujillo peered out to the pews as his hands alternated between fidgeting with the knot of his tie and his cufflinks. “Is she here yet?”

“Not yet.” Horacio straightened Trujillo’s tie knot. “But it’s still early.”

“Yeah.” Trujillo nodded and took a deep breath.

“She’ll be here before you know it. So relax. I think we’ve been through worse.” Horacio’s lips stayed neutral for an impressively long spell until he caved.

“My hand was steady as a rock on that rooftop. But today?” Trujillo held out his hand to show the hint of a tremor.

“You ended something once and for all on that rooftop. Something that needed ending…for your father, Alfredo and Sebastián. For you. For Colombia. But today is the start of your future.”

“I always thought they would have been here for this one day. So, thank you. For being here instead. For coming back...after everything. For all those early morning drills and target practice. And for the free drinks.”

They laughed at the fact Horacio was a man of his word and hadn’t let Trujillo buy a single drink since arriving here.

“It’s the least I could do. And if you ever need anything, Felipe, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Likewise…Horacio. That goes for Javier, too.”

Their silence was an acknowledgement that they had just shared an ending and a beginning of their own, no longer comrades in arms or superior and subordinate, but something different again, something equal.

“I thought my ears were burning,” came a voice from the doorway.

“Great way to kill the moment, Peñita.”

“Sorry. I wanted to wish you luck. And offer you some Dutch Courage, if you're interested?” Javier produced a hip flask from behind his back. “A present from Search Bloc,” was his answer to the quizzical looks he was met with.

“Just a taste, then. I don’t want Juana thinking I’m drunk.” Trujillo took a restrained swig. “Any last-minute advice?” he asked Javier, passing him the flask.

“You want marriage advice from me? Er, don’t do a runner before she gets here?”

“Good one, brother.”

“He did warn you,” Horacio added, shooting Javier a pointed look.

“True. Although,” Trujillo lowered his voice and glanced at the doorway, “neither of you might be married, but…you’ve been through a lot together. And I think it’s made you stronger. So, you must be doing something right.”

A wordless nod and one last swig for good measure were exchanged.

Javier and Horacio were unsure if it was the alcohol or something else causing the heat to rise in their cheeks. But either way, they were in quiet agreement with Trujillo’s assessment.

It wasn’t long before the words “She’s here!” were whispered with barely contained glee from beyond the door, and it was time to take their places.

The ceremony, even the drier elements, passed quicker than most weddings Javier and Horacio had been to. It was the first one Javier had attended since…well, not even his own now he thought about it because he never made it to the church. He never saw Lorraine’s dress either, as, unsurprisingly, she had changed out of it by the time he was forced to explain himself. Not that Javier really could explain at the time. But then, it was much easier to understand something was wrong once he knew what was right.

Between Felipe’s pristine uniform and Juana’s mantilla veil, memories of Horacio's Mamá wearing a strikingly similar black veil to his Papá’s funeral came to mind. But once upon a time, they had also stood at an altar like this with their shared life ahead of them, and even though the injustice of it being cut short would always linger, on this occasion, Horacio chose to cherish the fact it existed in the first place.

Furtive glances travelled between him and Javier as they bowed their heads to pray during the candle ceremony and for the exchange of rings and arras coins. It was a silent confirmation that whilst these rituals weren’t an option for them in the eyes of the law or church, their unofficial versions were no less significant. 

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They moved on to the reception at Jardín Botánico de Medellín in the evening, a place Horacio hadn’t been to since his youth. The wedding meal was to be served under a spectacular orchid-shaped wooden canopy in the centre of the gardens. Tables dressed in white linen were decorated with flower arrangements to match those at the church, and favours included coffee beans and orchid seeds.

The newlyweds sat at the top table surrounded by close family and their padrinos and madrinas, the echoes of war still loud and everlasting given the notable absences. Javier, Horacio, Steve, Connie and Olivia sat on the next one, along with some familiar Search Bloc faces and Carlos Holguín staff.

At the adjacent table were Martínez Senior and Junior. Horacio and Martínez Senior had only crossed paths at occasional ceremonies and dinners, even though their fathers worked more closely in the past. As the war on drugs kicked in, it became apparent the two men had polar opposite approaches to their jobs. And whilst Horacio made Escobar his mission, Martínez took a different path, specialising in FARC operations in the jungle instead. Until their paths converged, that was.

“Do you think he knows?” Javier muttered over the rim of his champagne flute after Martínez Senior’s eyes briefly fell on them.

“About us? Why would he?” Horacio replied into the palm of his hand as he scratched his upper lip.

“I dunno. He knew about everything else. And he must have questions.”

“I’m sure he does. But do you think he’ll even want to speak to us? I already know he hates my guts.”

“He might be pleasantly surprised you’re not dead. You never know.”

Their hushed conversation was thankfully drowned out by Olivia interrogating Connie about everything from the guests’ outfits to the flower arrangements and when the food was coming, whilst Steve caught up with Jacoby.

The tables were soon full of plates and dishes bearing carne asada, lechona, patacones, arepas, tamales, milhojas, concadas, cuajada con melao, fruit salads and the centre piece Torta Negra Colombiana, decorated with flowers to match the colour scheme.

The cutting of the Torta Negra followed before the space was re-arranged, guests spilling out into the surrounding gardens, refreshing their drinks at the various pop-up bars or walking amongst the flowers and trees.

By dark, a dancefloor was unveiled in the centre of the canopy with a band playing cumbia, vallenato, merengue, bambuco, salsa and beyond.

Once the bride had thrown her bouquet, the single male guests gathered to place a shoe beneath her dress. Javier managed to escape the ritual in favour of sitting back and watching from the sidelines. But at the risk of inviting prying questions from his former colleagues if he did the same, Horacio reluctantly added his shoe to the pile. Typically, his was chosen by Juana, which, as per tradition, meant he would be next to marry.

From several feet away, Horacio could see Javier’s suggestive eyebrow and overt smirk, and they were even more brazen close up when Horacio re-joined him.

“Should we pick out rings, or…?”

An eyeroll was the only answer Javier was ever going to get to that question, and it came right on cue.

“Because, er,” Javier continued regardless, clearing his throat and casually glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot, “seeing you in your shirt stays this morning got me thinking how fucking good you’d look in a wedding garter.”

As Horacio was hit with a barrage of mental images and a dry mouth, a large cheer erupted as the next tradition got underway. This time, all male guests – not just the single ones – were rounded up to remove their belts, the idea being that the man with the longest belt was the winner. Of what exactly, Horacio was never sure when this had played out at past Colombian weddings he’d been to.

He stood opposite Javier as they fumbled with buckles, unhooking the leather straps from their belt loops and pulling them off in one swift motion. Their eyes remained fixed on each other from start to finish, an act fuelled by Javier’s last words.

The sound of cheering pulled them back with reluctance to the proceedings, and even though their belts were probably slightly longer than they used to be, they weren’t declared the winners. 

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As the drinks flowed, so did the dancing, regardless of whether the paired-up guests knew each other or whether they could actually dance.

Javier’s next partner was a familiar face, though, who had at least taken a few dance classes to get to know some locals when first arriving in Colombia.

“Is Steve with Olivia?” he asked, grateful for a slower number so he could catch his breath and talk.

“Oh, no, she’s with the Jacobys. She’s made friends with their daughter, Chloe - they’re around the same age.” Connie twirled underneath Javier’s outstretched arm and back around again. “Steve is conveniently helping Horacio with the next round of drinks. He always did have hips as stiff as a board. I had to practically drag him up for our first dance.”

“That…doesn’t surprise me.”

“And what about Horacio?” Connie whispered into Javier’s shoulder as their feet slid across the floor in time with the music. “Does he need to loosen his hips, or is he a dark horse?”

“You should know a man never dances and tells. But…” Javier spun Connie on her heel again, pulling her close so his head was near her ear this time. “I can assure you there’s nothing wrong with his hips.”

“That doesn’t surprise me either. When did you say you were heading to Manizales?”

“In a couple of days.” Javier swallowed hard now the subject had been raised.

“How’s he holding up?”

“Okay. We’ve not really talked about it since Madrid. Figured we’d deal with it after the wedding, but -” Javier scoffed, cutting himself off mid-sentence.

“Now it’s nearly here,” Connie finished for him.

“Exactly. But I guess we couldn’t hide in Spain forever.” As tempting as it was some days.

They somehow made it to the other side of the dancefloor, narrowly avoiding multiple couples before escaping back to their table once the song was over.

“How’re you finding being back again?” Connie asked.

“Weird.”

“Yeah. Definitely weird at first.”

Their shared laughter came like a sigh of relief, a release of tension now they had spoken the truth out loud.

“But different.”

“It’s not like last time, right?” There was uncertainty in her unblinking eyes, a plea not only for reassurance but for honesty as well.

“Trujillo said anyone left from the cartel with half a brain cell skipped town or went underground before Pablo’s body was cold. They’ve been tracking down anyone dumb enough to have stuck around. So, no. It’s not like last time. I promise.”

His tone was soft but he looked Connie in the eye until she nodded, needing the conviction as much as she did.

“I know I never visited Madrid like I said I would – blame your ex-employer for that, by the way – but for what it’s worth, I don’t think Medellín’s the only one who’s different now. So, whatever happens, Javi…”

“I know.”

His hand found its way to hers on the table and gently squeezed. An acceptance that there was no denying traces of the past, as they had already discovered, but a translucent overlay had been placed on top of it now. Whether the two could co-exist in the long run, nobody yet knew, but at least it was finally the chance of a future for them and Medellín. 

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Horacio picked one of the quieter bars, reeling off a list of drinks to the bartender and perching on a stool while he waited for his order.

“Thought you might need a hand.”

Before Horacio could respond, Steve had already sat on the adjacent stool, his back to the bar to accommodate his long legs.

“You sure you’re not just avoiding the dancefloor, Agent Murphy?” There was a hint of a mock interrogative tone to his voice as he turned sideways to face Steve.

Steve held his hands up in surrender. “You got me there. Although…” He dipped into the inside pocket of his black suit jacket and pulled out a couple of cigars. “Courtesy of the groom, if you’re interested?”

Horacio broke into a laugh. “He paid up, then.”

“Damn right.” Steve held one of the cigars closer to Horacio, tempting him despite the conflicted look Horacio was giving it. “I won’t tell Javi if you don’t tell Con.”

Horacio sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He put the cigar between his lips and took the lighter from Steve, hovering the flame near the foot until it took.

Steve did the same, a woody haze soon encircling them.

The bartender appeared with a trayful of drinks and once he was gone again, Horacio lifted a beer bottle and slid it across to Steve. “I never got a chance to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“Stechner.”

A scowl stormed across Steve’s pupils, and he took a quick hard swig from his beer bottle, placing it back on the table with a little more force than intended. “It was my fuckin’ pleasure. You should’ve seen his face. Covered in blood and tears in his eyes when my hand squeezed his throat.”

He swapped his beer for his cigar, relishing in that sweet memory as a ring of smoke hovered above his head like a misplaced halo.

Every now and then, Steve still surprised Horacio. Because occasionally, Horacio caught glimpses of the turbulence that raged beneath the surface. It was a clumsier, more unrefined version than he was accustomed to, but he recognised and understood it nonetheless.

“Not sure I’d have been able to stop squeezing,” Horacio confessed.

“It was touch and go for a minute. But rumour has it, the new Country Attaché, Alana Cortés, and Messina were roommates all the way through their Academy days. And for a few years after…before Cortés took an assignment in Mexico out of the blue. But now she’s back.” Steve toasted the air with his beer bottle. “So good luck to our old friend, Bill, trying to pull her strings.”

Horacio raised his glass to meet Steve’s bottle, although there was an ulterior motive to leaning forward a fraction. “I take it you’ve heard nothing else about the photos?” His words were delivered towards the floor in case of the minutest likelihood anyone around them was the world’s best lip reader.

“Not a thing. But I’d handle it if something did happen; you have my word. Cali’s beyond my remit, but I’d put good money on Stechner’s attention being there now he can’t use us anymore.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Oh, and you were right, too.”

“About what?”

“Javi tryin' to shut me out.”

“Well, thanks for not letting him.”

They bowed their heads and returned to their cigars, a surprisingly comfortable silence sitting between them.

“How was he in Madrid?” Steve asked in the end.

“Good, mostly. There were bad days, obviously. But he sleeps better now.”

“He’s not the only one.”

“No. I think there’s a lot of that going around.”

“It’s weird though, right?”

“What’s that?”

“Being back. Like it was all just some fuckin’ dream. Like it wasn’t really me on that rooftop. Like everyone knew it should’ve been you in that photo instead.”

Horacio might not have been there for the final showdown, but he'd seen enough newspapers and bulletins to know that photo well. The one where Escobar’s limp body was held up to the camera like a trophy, now the hunt was over.

“Yeah, well, I made sure it wasn’t me, didn’t I?” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve had to make my peace with it. And so should you.”

“I played out that moment so many times. Thought about all the ways we’d catch him. Over and over, I let it run through my head. But I wasn’t expecting him to look so…pathetic. Like any other son of a bitch criminal runnin’ scared when his time’s up.”

“Because that’s all he was. But it was real. And he’s gone. No matter what happens, they can’t take that away from us.”

“But now what?”

“Now, we live our lives. We don’t forget, but we move on.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Just as they toasted their drinks, they were rumbled.

“Might’ve known this is where you’d be hiding. Found them!” Javier called over his shoulder.

Trujillo followed behind Javier; his police uniform now exchanged for a lightweight guayabera. “Anything to avoid a dancefloor. Blondie, are those my cigars?”

“I think you’ll find they’re mine now, Major. I might have a couple of spares lying around, though.” Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out more like he was performing a magic trick.

Trujillo rubbed his hands together. “Now you’re talking.” 

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Once Steve had braved the canopy to pass Connie her drink, the four men retreated to a deserted part of the gardens where pine tables and chairs with canvas covering them were dotted amongst the trees. White lights hung across the branches like fireflies and lanterns lined the decked walkways, the party and dancing reduced to a murmur in the distance.

The quartet sat around one of the pine tables, the first time they had been together like this since the old days back at Carlos Holguín.

“Can you believe we’re finally here?” Trujillo asked, savouring the spicy scent of his cigar as it combined with the fresh floral notes of the forest.

“At your wedding? Barely.”

Trujillo rolled his eyes at Javier’s teasing and shook his head. “You can tick comedian off your list of career options.”

Steve sucked in air through his teeth at their war of words. “See what I had to put up with.”

“Says the white boy who needed me to be his fucking translator 24/7.”

A collective braying sound travelled around the table this time before it morphed into laughter and Steve making use of any Spanish swear word he could think of.

“But in all seriousness...no, not really,” Javier replied in earnest after they returned to their cigars.

“Sometimes when I wake up, it takes me a minute to remember he’s not still lurking out there somewhere.”

“But he’s not.” Horacio’s eyes glowed with steely determination, needing to put a line under this once and for all. “You made sure of that. You gave Medellín a future. And now it’s time to start yours.” He raised his glass to the centre of the table. “To Juana and Felipe.”

“To Juana and Felipe!” Javier and Steve echoed as their drinks clinked with Horacio’s.

“And to Colombia,” Felipe added.

“To Colombia!”

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Once the cigars were stubbed out, Trujillo and Horacio were pulled away for a Search Bloc reunion, leaving Javier and Steve to their drinks.

“I was telling Carrillo about Cortés earlier.”

“How did you find out about her, by the way? You never said on the phone.”

“Just some good old fashioned slightly off-the-record detective work, that’s all.”

“You covered your tracks, though, right? Because they’ll know it was you who gave her my intel. Even if they can’t prove it.”

“’Course. Although it wouldn’t take a fuckin’ genius to figure that out. Same with Stechner’s busted face. Don’t think anyone bought it was your handiwork.”

“To be fair, there’s a critical shortage of geniuses in the DEA. Present company included, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Steve retaliated by raising his middle finger in response to Javier’s trademark wink. “But most people hate Stechner as much as we do, so no one came asking. Never saw him around the school again after that, although I’m sure he must’ve been prowlin' about somewhere.”

“More than likely. So, er…no one’s mentioned the photos either?”

“No. And like I told Carrillo, even if they did, I’d handle it, Javi. I promise. There’s more shit on Stechner out there, I fuckin’ know it. Messina was getting too close, remember. I don’t think I’ll have to dig deeper, but look at it as an insurance policy.”

“Makes sense. And thanks, Steve. For Stechner. For the intel. For reassuring Horacio, apparently.”

Javier laughed at the thought of them engaged in something resembling a heart-to-heart. But if truth be told, it brought warmth to his chest to realise the two men could be considered friends-of-sorts these days. Not that he dared tell them that.

Steve gave a lazy salute with one hand whilst the other took a swig of his drink. “Don’t expect that to become a habit, by the way.”

And there it was, right on cue, just as Javier anticipated. “Oh, no, of course not.”

“It was a one-time-only Wedding Special kinda deal.”

“Right. Exactly.”

Javier took a long sip of his drink to hide the smirk threatening to explode into an undiplomatic laugh if he wasn’t careful.

“Any idea when you’re moving back to the States?” Steve asked, seemingly oblivious to Javier’s impressive restraint.

“Not really. It depends on Horacio’s visa. We haven’t decided on the best route yet. I’d forgotten how much fucking paperwork’s involved.”

It was no wonder Javier held such disdain for bureaucracy when the wrong piece of paper was the difference between crossing a border and not. When someone’s life was reduced down to a list of rigid criteria without much consideration for the sacrifice and hardship it often took to get to that point in the first place. It was why he had done his best to help informants get an American visa wherever possible, even if it meant bending rules until they snapped.

He knew Horacio had more options than most – more than his grandparents’ generation did – and they had been lucky with their past visas. But he tried not to think about the fact their future would be in the hands of an officious government administrator. One most likely not prepared to bend any rules in the slightest.

“You got that right. Don’t s’pose he’s thought about law enforcement?”

Javier shot Steve a sharp look. “Hilarious.”

“I thought so. And what about you? Any ideas what’s next?”

“Me? Fuck, I dunno, man. Guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“You’ll both figure it out, y’know.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. You always do. You’re like me and Con. We’ve had our rough patches, several of ‘em while we were here – and a few more since we left, come to think of it – but somehow, we get through it. Same as you and Horacio.”

“You drunk, Murphy?”

Steve contemplated that as though he hadn’t considered the possibility until now despite the array of empty glasses covering the table. “Fuck, I think I am.” He let out a loud snigger before hushing himself. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“My lips are sealed.” For all of Javier’s stoicism, he stood no chance, and it wasn’t long before they were giggling like schoolboys.

“About the rough patches, though…” Steve said once they had calmed down. “Any tips?”

“Someone once told me it’s okay to not always be in the same boat even if you’re in the same storm. Sometimes, you just need your own boat. But as long as you’re trying to sail in the same direction...and want to be in the same boat as much as possible, you can get through it.”

“Huh. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but that actually makes sense. Who do I need to thank?”

Javier smiled, almost able to smell fresh churros if he closed his eyes hard enough. “Someone a lot older and wiser than us.”

“Figures. And my point still stands, by the way.”

“What point’s that exactly?”

“You might not have worked out the finer details yet, but…” Steve gestured for Javier to move forward as though he was about to share highly classified intel. “The worst’s over now. We don’t forget, but we move on.” He nodded sagely before dropping his voice to little more than an alcohol-infused rumble. “This is your happy ending, Javi. Go live it.”

As they returned to the party, Steve alternating between leaning against Javier and patting him enthusiastically on the back whilst attempting something vaguely resembling Spanish, there was no doubt in Javier’s mind that Steve was wasted and probably had been for most of their conversation.

But when it came to the sentiment behind Steve’s garbled words, something told Javier that didn’t matter.

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Maybe it was Horacio’s age or the quiet life he had become accustomed to, but he couldn’t keep up with Search Bloc’s drinking. The aguardiente shots were in full flow when he left them to it, doubling back towards where he had left Javier and Steve.

He made it past the bustle of the bar and round the corner towards a small rock garden with a walkway to the trees lying beyond.

“So, the rumours were true, then.”

Force of habit made Horacio momentarily reach for where his gun holster used to be as he spun around to face the voice from the shadows of a wooden bench.

“Depends which ones you’re talking about,” he replied in a measured tone now he knew the source of the voice. “You can’t believe everything you hear.”

“Well, let’s put it this way...you certainly look well for a dead man, Colonel Carrillo.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

“Not at all. Vengeance isn’t my style.”

“Nor mine these days.”

“So I’ve heard. Congratulations on your retirement. I’d say that beats jail, wouldn’t you?”

Horacio scoffed as he sat on the opposite end of the bench, his brow flexing at such an expertly delivered blow. “I guess I deserved that.”

“I think we both know what a man deserves and what a man gets are rarely the same thing.”

“True. But you’ll always be Colonel Martínez: the man who stopped Escobar.”

“Perhaps so. But was death not the easier way out?”

“Easier than what? Vengeance?”

“Justice.” Martínez gave Horacio a long look from his end of the bench. “Gaviria was the one who wanted him dead. It’s no wonder you two got along so well.”

“I did my duty. As Gaviria did his and you did yours. We played the hands we were dealt.”

“Yes, and he dealt mine well when he signed my son up to Search Bloc before offering me your job.”

Realisation slowly spread across Horacio’s face, and without meaning to, he gave Martínez a look tinged with pity. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I kept him alive. He was transferred to a new intel unit instead…where he intercepted radio transmissions from Pablo the day we caught him.”

A curve of a smile formed on Horacio’s lips. “Funny how it works out sometimes.”

Horacio was reminded of his own double-edged sword of a path to becoming leader of Search Bloc. The journey began with Javier and a briefcase full of cash being deposited in the lap of General Jaramillo, forcing the General’s greedy hand to appoint Horacio as head of the anti-drug squad and make him a Colonel. A job that was already a poisoned chalice on account of his predecessor winding up dead at the hands of the cartel.

Javier using gringo money to buy Horacio a promotion had been a bone of contention between them back then. Too many heated discussions under the influence led to an argument where “Everybody works for somebody" and “Don’t ever mistake me for one of your whores again” were the last words to hang between them in a heavy fog of smoke, whiskey and undefinable tension for several weeks. During which time, Horacio was even more ruthless than usual. And as if to prove a point, Javier practically became a temporary resident at his favourite brothel.

The hypocrisy of the situation had sat uneasily under Horacio’s skin when he had always taken such a hard line on bribery from the narcos. Was this really any different?

But conversely, if he hadn’t been allowed to build his own force of incorruptible men, he would never have led the operation on Gacha. He would never have ended up in those quarters in Tolú with Javier. On his cot with Javier underneath him.

“Yes, it is. I did tell Gaviria I would bring Escobar into custody unless he resisted. But of course, he resisted.”

“Then maybe Escobar didn’t care about justice as much as you think he did. And there’s nothing you could have done about that.”

“Aren’t we supposed to care about justice, though? And I don’t mean the vigilante kind you and Los Pepes were so fond of administering.”

“You sound like the gringos I used to work with.” A surge of nostalgia rose in Horacio’s chest, and he’d have been surprised if it wasn’t showing on his face. Although, of course, it was one gringo in particular he had in mind.

“If you think I wanted Escobar to be extradited to an American jail, you’re mistaken. He was our problem to deal with, not theirs.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t give a fuck about a corrupt form of justice. How would that have been better than what I did? So many judges, politicians and journalists were bought or killed alongside our men. He wanted Colombia to bleed, and he’d have done whatever it took to make sure he didn’t remain in a cell. You, Trujillo, Search Bloc…you cauterised the wound that no one else could.”

“For now. I think we both know this was something of a Pyrrhic victory. And not the end.”

“Two things we can agree on.”

Reluctant smiles crossed their faces despite everything.

“I think our fathers managed a few more.”

“So I was told at Papá’s wake. How is your father doing these days?”

“He’s fine. Retired now but relieved the hunt is over. I think he hated watching from the sidelines.”

“I know the feeling.”

The distant drumbeat of the live band carried on the gentle breeze through the garden, whispering like ghosts through the plants and trees surrounding them.

“I may not have agreed with your methods, but I was very sorry about your father.”

“Me too. And for what it’s worth, I think my father would’ve been sorry about my methods as well.”

“I cannot imagine how losing a parent so young would have changed my path. And to be clear, this isn't to be taken as an excuse, but by your own ethos, you played the cards you were dealt, did you not?”

Horacio laughed. “Something like that.”

“I must admit, you were a tough act to follow.”

“Was I?”

“Yes. The level of respect you commanded from your men wasn’t easy to replicate.”

“You still got invited here, though.”

“True. And I accepted the invite despite my suspicions the groom was assisting Agent Peña before his departure.”

Horacio’s jaw ticked in anticipation of the treacherous tightrope he would need to tread here. He and Javier were out, done, without their badges or weapons. But Trujillo wasn’t.

“Suspicions or evidence?” he settled on in the end.

“Suspicions based on what I witnessed. But I think there’s irrefutable evidence his and Peña’s unfaltering loyalty rested with you rather than with me.”

“Trujillo also fired a bullet through Escobar’s skull.”

“Yes. An act I don’t judge him for in the circumstances. And rest assured, I have no intention of reporting my suspicions to anyone. Major Trujillo’s motives aren’t the ones still eluding me.”

Horacio swallowed down the dread burning the back of his throat like bile that was in danger of choking him if he didn’t get rid of it quickly. “What are you talking about?”

“You never struck me as a man afraid of death. And whilst I can understand the ambush might have made some reconsider their career choice, I wouldn’t have put you down as one of them.”

“Do you really think there was anything left for me in Search Bloc? My superiors already had your name on their lips to replace me long before I was shot.”

“In Search Bloc, perhaps not. But I’m sure the CNP would have allowed you back once the dust settled. They forgave you for far worse than being shot.”

Horacio huffed sarcastically despite how unwise it was to get sucked into the conversation. “I can assure you my decision was never about them. And it’s nothing you didn’t do for your son.”

That seemed to be the winning blow as Martínez nodded in concession. “True. We can’t afford to be afraid of death in our profession. But when it comes to the people we love, I must confess…I can’t apply the same rule.”

Horacio gripped the edge of the bench and focused intently on his feet, fearing even glancing in Martínez’s direction would fill in the few remaining blanks. He managed a minimal grunting noise in his throat that he hoped sounded like agreement.

“However, many times, I’ve asked myself why a man such as Peña would have destroyed his career so recklessly, and so close to the finish line. But I’ve been unable to settle on an answer.”

It wasn’t quite the change of subject Horacio hoped for. “Well, for starters,” he began, raising his gaze from his shoes at last, not out of a newly acquired sense of bravery but because he knew he needed to be convincing. “I wouldn’t read too much into Judy Moncada’s Get Out Of Jail Free Card.”

“Oh, I didn’t. I know Peña’s role was only a small part of something a lot bigger than he, you or I could control. But I have to wonder what leverage they had over him to make a deal with the devil impossible to refuse.”

Horacio had no intention of engaging further, but it wasn’t the first time he had wondered about the gap he left that was hastily – and bloodily – filled by Los Pepes. Would they even have been necessary if he'd never left? Or would they have tried their luck in approaching him with the offer of an allegiance? It caused his stomach to swoop if he focused too much on the people involved in that hypothetical scenario. But then he thought of Javier, and he knew with every fibre of his being if their roles had been reversed, he would have done the same.

“I’m sure every man has his reasons if the price is high enough.”

Martínez cocked his head in Horacio’s direction with a creased brow, holding eye contact for a fraction longer than Horacio was comfortable with. “Quite.”

Drunken laughter followed by a sniggered hush abruptly cut through the loud silence. The two Colonels – past and present – turned around to be met with the sight of Javier trying to control the swaying bulk of limbs belonging to his former partner.

Javier spotted them first and halted in his tracks, hoping the dim lighting hid the flash of horror on his face at the sight of two parallel universes colliding in front of him on a garden bench.

Steve apparently was oblivious to what they had stumbled across as he carried on along the path back to the party with just about enough of his faculties remaining to reunite with Connie.

“Everything alright?” Javier asked, fingers twitching on his right hand as he looked from one side of the bench to the other, then back again.

“Yeah, fine.” But Horacio’s eyes found Javier’s in the flecks of light from the lanterns hanging amongst the tree branches and told a more complicated story. “We were just comparing notes.”

“Oh yeah? Any interesting findings?” Javier’s eyes stayed fixed on Horacio’s or the floor for the most part, only risking a brief glance or two at Martínez.

“A few,” Martínez chipped in as he studied them more carefully than they were likely aware of. “Some that I will never be able to excuse or forgive, but I think I understand one thing more clearly now.”

“What’s that?” Horacio asked.

“I always believed there were two types of people in this world: those who rely on hope and those who rely on faith. But now, I see some rely on both.”

Before Javier or Horacio could formulate a response, Martínez announced it was time to locate his son as they had early shifts in the morning.

Their farewell involved little more than a handshake, a stern nod and an exchange of “Good luck.” But it was a necessary formality for all parties. A mark of mutual respect that wasn’t quite an offered or accepted olive branch but at least a truce. And that was enough. 

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

“You okay?” Javier asked once Martínez had disappeared from view.

“Yeah. Well, I guess it was inevitable at some point.”

“Didn’t expect it to go like that, though. What the fuck did he mean? Just before he left. Does he know?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t think he’s telling anyone anything either way.”

“Agreed. We don’t have to stay if you’d rather -”

“No.” Horacio was quiet for a second, craning his ear towards the sound of the band behind the large cluster of trees they had sat amongst earlier. “I’ve got a better idea.”

He looked around them in all directions, twice, to be on the safe side, then took Javier by the hand and escorted him along one of the walkways. However, they branched off in a different direction than before, Horacio surprising himself with childhood memories of the layout of this place that he assumed were lost to the sands of time.

“What are -?”

“You’ll see.”

The path spiralled in circles, leaving them surrounded by greenery until they arrived at a softly lit water fountain in the centre. They were somehow closer to the sound of the music, even though they had moved further away from the party.

As they stilled, Javier looked expectantly at Horacio, who was already removing his jacket, placing it carefully on the ground and rolling up his shirt sleeves.

Javier did the same, still not understanding what this was all about, but the look in Horacio’s eye made him want to find out.

Horacio stepped closer, moonlight casting reflections from the fountain, illuminating the spark of hunger glinting in his pupils. “I’ve spent all night watching you dance with half the wedding party.” One hand dropped to Javier’s waist and tugged him forward into his hold. “It’s my turn now.”

Javier’s breath hitched as Horacio pressed them together, his hands automatically falling to Horacio’s hips to steady himself. “You only had to ask,” he said, the smoky timbre of his voice vibrating against Horacio’s ear.

“I thought line-dancing was more your thing.”

Javier nipped at Horacio’s earlobe in revenge. “That was when I was a kid. And you weren’t complaining about my dancing skills on our anniversary.”

Horacio let out an agreeable sigh as he chased the scrape of Javier’s teeth. “No, I wasn’t. But as nice as that was, we were hardly moving.”

“True. And if you must know, the Texas Two-Step got me several phone numbers back in the day. Lorraine’s being one of them. She was more into it than me, but it was actually kinda fun…for a while anyway.”

Memories of Saturday nights spent at old Texan dance halls and barn dances suddenly filled Javier’s mind. The faded aroma of leather and iron rust lingered alongside stale Lone Star beer, cigarette smoke and overpowering perfume as he led his partner across the worn wooden floor in time to the likes of Laura Canales and Hank Locklin.

His gaze would travel around the room – which was easier during a do-si-do – sometimes to make sure they didn’t collide with other dancers, sometimes to give anyone who caught his eye a discreet once-over. If he happened to hone in on a male dancer's tight-fitted jeans and fluid hip movements, it could easily be disguised as admiration for his female partner.

Not that it ever led to any encounters. Not there anyway; it wasn’t anonymous enough. But it was still a temptation. And yet another instance of feeling caught between two worlds: to have the tangible heat and beauty of a woman in his arms whilst fantasising about a mysterious, alluring man from afar, knowing he could never do the same with him in front of an audience.

“Juliana taught me to dance too. Or tried to, at least. She competed a lot when she was younger.”

Horacio smiled at the unexpected memory of them practising in her parents' kitchen, her father watching them like a hawk, glaring every time Horacio put a foot wrong or his hands fell lower than her waist despite the fact she was a grown woman. And his hands had already done much more than that whenever they had the place to themselves. His relationship with her father was the polar opposite of his relationship with Chucho, now he thought about it.

It wasn’t Juliana’s fault, though. And when they were alone on a crowded dancefloor, before his job and life came between them, before he understood the strange, borderline resentment twisting in his chest if he clocked male dancers with a particular look or build, they were content.

One of their favourite clubs ran a cumbia contest on the first Saturday of each month. The prize was tokenistic, free drinks on their next visit, but that didn’t matter on the occasions they came first when Juliana would tell her parents the good news at church the following day. The look on her father’s face as Horacio tried and failed to stifle a smug expression at her side would always be priceless.

���You ever danced any cumbia?” he asked Javier now.

“Some. At parties, weddings, quinceañeras…but that’s going back before I came to Colombia.” There might have been a few hazy nights in clubs and bars over here as well, but dancing hadn’t been his modus operandi in those days.

“So, you’ve never done it with a Colombian?”

Javier’s brow quirked of its own accord, and his tongue swept deliberately across his top lip. “No, er, you’d be my first.”

Horacio kept an impassive expression with his mouth, but his darkening pupils gave him away. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

“You know that won’t be necessary.”

Somewhere in the middle of their flirtation, they loosened their embrace, one hand linked in the space between them as their feet stepped back and forth, then side to side, their movements mirroring one another. Quick, quick, slow, quick, quick, slow.

Without warning, Horacio pulled Javier across his body and under their arms, spinning him around with force, then bringing them face-to-face again.

“Lucho Bermúdez was one of the great musical legends here in Colombia. Still is after his death last year. Mamá and my Abuelas listened to him all the time whenever the whole family got together. Do you know the name of this song?”

Horacio waited until their noses were almost touching to ask as their feet subconsciously glided over the paving stones beneath them.

Javier merely shook his head, their legs intermittently brushing together as their hips popped to the beat before he was spun once, twice, thrice until he was dizzy and out of breath.

“Tolú,” Horacio whispered as they reconverged, his lips skimming Javier’s and his eyes flickering shut as flashes of them on his cot in their shadowed quarters flooded into view.

Javier teased his bottom lip over Horacio’s, moustache swiping back and forth until they shuddered, a different first time as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

But they never stopped dancing. Horacio looped through their arms until he had his back to Javier, one hand each gripped at Horacio’s waist. They shimmied sideways, their free hands entwined by their shoulders to guide them back and forth, switching their hold each time they travelled across the floor. Another spin, another brush of legs, or an electric look making it clear which memories of Tolú they were thinking of.

The song ended, leaving only their charged breaths and the evening breeze rustling through the maze of trees protecting them from prying eyes.

Then, the band struck up again, so they kept dancing. Their bodies and minds synchronised as they paid homage to the country that had brought them together in the unlikeliest circumstances, Horacio interjecting with memories from childhood whenever old classics were played. He was even forced to swear on the cross between their chests that he had nothing to do with the band playing Noches de Cartagena of all songs.

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

By the time Javier prised his eyes open, unwelcome rays were already bursting through any gap in the blinds they could find. He craned his neck above Horacio’s still form, his watch on the nightstand reading 8:45am; ouch.

He’d survived on minimal sleep plenty of times, but he couldn’t remember getting home from a wedding past 5:00am before. If he was honest, they were tempted to call it a night once their private party for two ended. But it would have been rude to miss out on the dancers – professional this time – costumes and confetti of La Hora Loca. When in Colombia and all that.

They still had a few hours before they were to reconvene with the wedding party for the ultimate hangover cure of bandeja paisa, so Javier’s nose and moustache brushed over the nape of Horacio’s neck, arms slotting around him from behind.

A serene purr soon followed as Horacio stirred and leaned into Javier’s touch.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

Javier’s lips now worked their way to the side of Horacio’s neck, concentrating on a sweet spot below his ear.

“Liar.” Although Horacio’s whole body arched and his head tilted to give Javier what he wanted.

“Surprised I was awake before you, to be honest.”

“It took me a while to get to sleep…all of two and a bit hours ago.” Horacio winced into the pillow at how little rest he’d actually had.

“Everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah.” He raised his head and shifted so he was lying face-to-face with Javier. “I was just thinking about my family.”

“Makes sense.”

“When we arrived, we were so focused on the wedding. I didn’t let myself think about what comes next. But now…”

“I said the same to Connie last night. But…maybe we’re ready to rip off the band-aid.”

“Maybe. Part of me just wanted to get it out of the way when I was lying awake. But you nodded off in record time.”

“I think you wore me out.”

“But you enjoyed it, though?”

“It was perfect.” Javier closed the space between them, seeking out Horacio’s lips until he was met with a hum of agreement.

Javier pushed his luck, ducking below Horacio’s ear and descending over the column of his throat. Testing the waters to see if Horacio wanted the distraction Javier was more than willing to provide. “And how’s this?”

“Pretty fucking perfect too.”

Their kisses started languorous due to their lack of sleep, building to something fervid as Horacio nipped at Javier’s pout, catching it between his teeth until it was plump and swollen.

Javier retaliated, coaxing Horacio’s tongue towards his with expert flicks, tasting faint traces of last night’s cigars, until he captured it and sucked, long and thorough.

Limbs tangled between bedsheets soon became Javier whimpering facedown into a pillow whilst Horacio dipped and devoured, creating a slick glide between Javier’s thighs, the relief visceral when lining up and pushing forwards.

Horacio experimented with bracing yet measured rotations as he mouthed along the expanse of Javier’s trapezius, lost in a sea of broad muscle. He’d always loved watching the fabric of Javier’s shirts stretch and strain at his upper back, an eye-catching contrast to the narrow hips his jeans hugged oh so tightly. And now, the shirt wasn’t required, and he was the one setting Javier’s skin alight, triggering a visible response to every touch or movement like putty in Horacio’s hands.

Javier loved being vindicated that there was nothing wrong with Horacio’s hips whatsoever. Of being denied any forewarning of what came next from biting down on a pillow with his eyes screwed shut, the only way he could avoid prematurely spilling all over the sheets beneath him. It was a close call several times, calming breaths required to refocus, a request for Horacio to stop or slow down needed before it was game over.

Knowing he reduced Javier to begging because it was too much put Horacio on thin ice, and any more pleas like that would have finished him off. But the throbbing of his cock was in sync with his pulse, loud and insistent, and keeping still wasn’t having the same effect anymore. The salty taste on his tongue as it swiped over the nape of Javier’s neck where the silver chain still remained was an aphrodisiac he couldn’t ignore.

“Fuck me,” he rasped against Javier’s ear.

Without hesitation, Javier flipped onto his back, the loss of contact causing an ache of frustration. But it was replaced by straddling, groping and grinding, propelling Horacio up the mattress until his thighs were encased around Javier’s head.

Now it was Javier’s turn to feast, spreading Horacio with vigour, darting, licking, kissing, leaving trails of saliva, moaning as his cock was engulfed and fingers danced over his balls.

The scratch of nails scored Horacio’s ass as he worked Javier over, lapping with greed, hollowing his cheeks, bobbing his head and switching up the strength of suction, putting everything they had learnt in Madrid into practice.

They pulled off before it was too late, grabbing the bottle of lube and lying supine across the mattress with Javier underneath Horacio.

Javier’s feet were planted flat on the bed, giving him enough purchase to buck upwards with force, one hand holding on at the waist whilst the other roamed freely across the plains of Horacio’s chest, kneading fistfuls of pectoral muscles and skimming over his rib cage down to his thighs.

Javier caressed each thigh in turn, circling and massaging with his thumb, marvelling at how the span of his hand only reached a fraction of the way around them. “I meant what I said last night. About how good a garter would look on you.” His glutes clenched as he propelled upwards for extra emphasis.

The seed was sewn in Javier’s head as he watched Horacio dress for the wedding. It wasn’t the first time Horacio had worn what was a standard part of his dress uniform. A trick of the trade amongst police and military to avoid sanctions for a creased shirt. But it was the first time Javier had seen the shirt stays sitting snugly around Horacio’s muscular thighs. It was the first time he wanted to slip his fingers underneath the neat straps, maybe twang them or pull them tighter with his teeth whilst on his knees. Or as Horacio rode him with his back to Javier, one side of his shirt unclipped, underwear and a single garter tantalisingly removed, the other kept secured in place.

A guttural groan rumbled through Horacio’s chest like he had read Javier’s mind. “What kind?” he breathed out, surprised by his eagerness to indulge Javier and how fast his hand shot to his cock.

Javier choked back expletives at Horacio’s question and the sight above him. “I was thinking something leather…with a buckle…to match your belt and boots.” Each punishing thrust broke up his speech with strained grunts as he spread Horacio’s thighs wider, manoeuvring him up and down at the same pace. “Maybe one on your arm too….and a harness…to go with your hat…cowboy.”

“Fuck,” Horacio panted into Javier’s mouth at an awkward angle on the pillow, stroking himself roughly. Sparks of arousal multiplied with each wrist jerk as he pictured the look Javier gave him during the belt contest. Imagined him buckling the firm yet supple material until it bound tightly against Horacio’s sensitive skin like armour only they were allowed to put on or take off.

Javier’s hand replaced Horacio’s as he let his cock be held in stasis, basking in the heat and comfort of their joined form. His fingers journeyed back to Horacio’s mouth, tracing over it until Horacio parted his lips for Javier to feed two, then three digits inside.

Horacio sucked down, tasting himself as well as Javier as he swirled and licked, swallowing past the knuckles; faster and greedier. But it wasn’t enough.

Maybe it was the false pretences kept up the previous day and night combined with what lay ahead, but Javier seemed too far away. He always did when they were in public, but even more so when wearing a three-piece suit at a romantic wedding that wasn’t and couldn’t be theirs. It was why they still relished the time they could spend alone. And why they had needed Madrid. Because all those hidden looks and blink-and-miss, ‘accidental’ unseen brushes of hands could only be suppressed for so long. Last night, it had spilt out as inadvertent foreplay. But now, they needed more.

“Turn around,” Horacio said after releasing Javier’s glistening fingers.

They lay heart-to-heart, Horacio on his back, legs wrapped around Javier. Javier’s tongue skimmed across the breadth of Horacio’s chest, taking his sweet time working over each nipple, the scrape of teeth causing Horacio to lift upwards until Javier plunged him back down again.

And Horacio didn’t resist, his mind and body in free flight as the weight of Javier anchored him, allowed him to feel each and every nerve vibrate, his arms sliding above his head in complete surrender, offering them for Javier to claim.

Javier plotted a course across any patch of bare skin he could reach, licking up and down Horacio’s underarms, inhaling the musky scent of sweat before switching to his triceps, then biceps. On the left, he mouthed his way along the muscles; any marks left intentional reassurances and promises for their present and future, their bodies mapped stories of their lives.

Along the right, he eased up when he came to the faded scar at the mid-point of Horacio’s shoulder, placing tender butterfly kisses over the blemished skin, blinking away visions of a bullet tearing it open and taking care not to let his teeth make unwanted contact with their past.

He gradually dragged his mouth away until their gaze met, the rise and fall of Horacio’s chest compelling Javier to lay his head on it, soothed by the steady beat and the massage at his scalp.

Satisfied, Javier lifted Horacio’s arms back above them, sweeping over the peaks and troughs of fortified shoulders, forearms and wrists until they slotted through fingers that clamped around his like a vice.

Javier rocked in a pounding rhythm, Horacio’s legs rising higher, pushing Javier deeper as compensation for being unable to reach out and touch. Horacio honed in on the lifeline at his fingertips, the stimulation against his prostate and the safety of Javier’s forehead, all thoughts about the upcoming days put on hold.

But Javier could sense Horacio needed more again. It was written all over the beautiful agony of his face and the silent request in his eyes.

So, hands unlocked to let fingernails brand skin, tug at damp strands of hair and graze over stubble, the metallic ice of the cross contrasting with the fire burning in the core of their chests as they danced more synchronised steps only they knew.

A change in angle caused a slow build of release to skirt the edges of Horacio’s limbs, toes curling as jolts of pleasure transformed into overflowing currents. The fuse was lit, a chain reaction of heat stoking a fire in the pit of his abdomen on the cusp of burning him from the inside out.

Another snap of hips, his own hand jerking his cock in a frenzy, a rush of white noise, shuddering, shaking breaths and a release of molten bliss across their stomachs.

The ripples kept coming as every sound, quiver or fluttering around Javier’s cock pushed him closer to the edge. With one final thrust, he finished inside Horacio, a desperate growl tearing from his throat, the brunt absorbed by Horacio’s left shoulder.

They didn’t move, preferring spent velvet kisses, the world now in slow motion.

Javier concentrated on Horacio’s nose and forehead, pouring everything into each gesture of affection until he whispered, “I love you. And it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“I love you too. And I know.”

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

They dozed a little too long after wearing each other out for the second time in 24 hours, so Horacio went ahead first, leaving Javier to shower and join him afterwards. But it made little difference to the proceedings as plenty of other guests were slow off the mark, too.

Tables were laid out around the nearby restaurant owned by Juana’s parents, leftover flower arrangements used as decorations because it would have been a shame to waste them. It was a much smaller space than the botanical gardens, but not all guests from the night before were expected to attend. A fact that brought immense relief to Horacio because he wouldn’t have to make conversation with a certain Colonel again.

Whilst waiting for Javier, he worked his way through his belated first coffee of the day and took a bite out of an arepa.

“Is there room for two more?”

Horacio raised his head to find Connie with Olivia in tow. “Of course.”

Connie did her best to encourage Olivia out of her hiding place behind her legs. “Come on, sweetie. Do you want something to eat?”

Olivia peeped out from behind Connie, eyeing Horacio with suspicion.

“Don’t mind her; she’s just a little shy and overtired this morning.”

“Some arepas are going spare if that helps?” Horacio kept his voice low and gentle, peering around Connie until he drew a curious expression out of Olivia.

Olivia looked up at her mother, who nodded for reassurance.

“Go ahead.”

Olivia left her hiding place and took the chair between Horacio and Connie, mumbling a thank you as she ate.

“Help yourself, too.”

“Oh, no, thanks. I’ll wait for Steve, whose painkillers should hopefully be kicking in about now. I don’t feel too bad, but I left him groaning into his pillow. Were you and Javi in the same state this morning?”

Horacio fought down a smirk with every strength of his being. “Something like that.”

“I knew it was a smart move to travel to Cartagena tomorrow instead.”

“Where are you staying?”

“A resort just off La Boquilla beach. Steve and I would’ve preferred something quieter, but there’s more to keep kids busy where we’re at.”

“I don’t know the area well, but it is a nice coast up there. With plenty more arepas.” Horacio directed his last sentence at Olivia, who had already made a start on her second.

She slowed her chewing before smiling at Horacio, who had remembered a trick or two from the younger days of dealing with his nieces and nephews. If all else failed, food usually won them round.

“I’ve only seen Medellín and Bogotá, so it’ll be nice to get out of the big cities for a change.”

Horacio cleared his throat and took a long sip of his drink. “Yeah, it will.”

Connie leaned across the table to retrieve a freshly replenished pot of coffee and poured into her cup. “It’s a shame we won’t get a chance to see Manizales this time. But we’ll be thinking about it anyway.”

Horacio was startled out of his own coffee and met Connie’s eye, unsure how to respond before settling on a silent nod of thanks. “Maybe next time if all goes well.”

“I think we’d like that. Breaks like this are few and far between now we’re both back working.”

“How’s Miami these days?”

“Busy now we’re juggling our schedules with Liv’s. And we still have bad days sometimes, of course.” Connie gave Horacio a pointed look when talking of bad days, choosing her words carefully with Olivia in earshot. “But things are better now we’ve got more routine again…more stability.”

“Sounds familiar. I find being in the same country helps, too,” Horacio added with a wry smile.

“Exactly. Now we’re out the other side.”

“Yeah.”

They shared a knowing look, not wanting to say too much in front of Olivia about everything they had been through. It was hard to believe how much had happened and changed in the last few years, and it was clear everyone was still processing it all.

“How’s your arm doing now?” Connie asked in a hurry, keeping the mood light for the sake of her daughter. 

“It’s as good as new. Well, almost. The ranch kept me moving. I think I built back more muscle than I had before. And I kept up strengthening exercises in Madrid.”

“Wow, you’re doing better than most of my patients. I never had to tell you off once.”

“I don’t follow many orders, but it wasn’t worth my arm – or life – to ignore yours. So, thank you.”

“Try telling that to Steve...or this one here. But seriously, I’m just glad I could help. Especially when I hear you might be making ranch life more permanent?” There was a conspiratorial tone to her question. A question she clearly knew the answer to already but was having fun asking regardless.

“That’s the plan, hopefully. Madrid was always supposed to be temporary.”

“But it helped?”

“Yeah. It was exactly what we needed. And maybe you’ll find Cartagena is what you need.”

“I think we will.”

There was that look again, one that spoke volumes about their shared understanding, even if their experiences were different.

Horacio’s gaze drifted up to Javier, who still wore his aviators until he flopped down at their table, already reaching for a cup and the coffee pot.

“Morning.”

“Afternoon, Javi,” Connie greeted with a wink.

“Very funny. But looks like I still beat your husband.”

“Don’t suppose you saw him on your way over?”

“Nope. I’m sure he’ll appear once the food does.”

Javier was right, of course. A worse-for-wear Steve arrived as the bandeja paisa was brought to the tables before they tucked into huge hot trays of beans, rice, chicharrón, chorizo, carne en polvo, plantain, avocado, fried egg and more arepas.

They ate in comfortable silence, letting the food work its magic and fill them up for the rest of the day, highlights from the reception still fresh in everyone’s minds despite their current weariness.

Before long, it was time to wave the newlyweds off on their honeymoon to Bequia. Their goodbyes were short and sweet, knowing they would be keeping in touch long after the celebrations were over, especially when Trujillo’s parting words were, “I’ll be waiting for my ranch invitation in the post.”

And even through the loud crowd of well-wishers, he managed to hear the mumbled “Cheeky fucker” echoed back at him in unison.

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

Javier and Horacio stayed to finish their coffees once the beeps of the wedding car disappeared into the distance, the majority of the party now dispersed and leaving them sat alone.

“Pops rang just before I left the hotel. Think he wanted to check in before…well, y’know.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. The only bit of news he asked me to pass on was about him being offered first refusal on Ciro’s and Malena’s place.”

The fact the Ortegas were selling up wasn’t a surprise. Javier and Horacio had spent last Christmas in Laredo again, where Ciro and Malena had brought around a fresh batch of sopaipillas over the festive period. In the preceding months, they had gone back and forth on moving, but by December, they were set on putting the farm on the market in the New Year.

Horacio nodded slowly, his brow drawn tight across his forehead as he considered this new development carefully. “Makes sense.”

“Do you think he’ll seriously consider it at his age?”

“I think he has to. We buy the majority of our feed grain from them. Selling to an outsider could risk price hikes and shortages, or the new owners might want to supply to someone else. It’d be a big gamble. But if your father bought them out, then kept their staff on, used their expertise, maybe even increased the livestock with some of the extra land…I think it could be workable.”

Horacio was aware he was being watched and glanced up to face his audience. “What?”

“Nothing.” Although Javier knew his face told another story. “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak such fluent cowboy before.”

“I’m not a—”

“Not yet,” Javier finished for him. “And I never said it was a bad thing.”

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

After every funeral, an additional service was held exclusively for CNP officers to attend. Whilst gravestones were located across Colombia in countless cemeteries, a modest wooden cross bearing a name was planted for each loss in the consecrated soil around the corner from Carlos Holguín.

Horacio had paid his respects here more times than he wished to remember, but he still wasn’t prepared for how vast the sea of the dead had become since his last visit. It was a silent expanse covering the grass for as far as the eye could see, the sole sign of life the weeds and wildflowers shooting up between the rows he walked through.

He recognised some names and could clearly picture their ashen-faced relatives as though it was yesterday when he stood on their doorsteps, hat in hand and solemn expression fixed in place. Others were indistinguishable from the rest. An indicator of the extent of the collateral damage and how long he had been away now.

As he stood in his civilian clothes, he felt strangely underdressed. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to wear his usual ranch attire since being back in Colombia and had returned to the beige khakis and polo shirts that felt like an unofficial uniform of their own. One that allowed him to get away with wholly unofficial business in the past, but today wasn’t about him. Today was about them. All of them. No matter who they were.

Perhaps against his better judgement, with the help of Trujillo, he had located the graves of Diana Turbay and Carolina García Velásquez. He didn't allow himself to remember Carolina’s name at the time, even though she had been plastered all over the papers alongside mysterious references to an “unidentified officer of the National Police” leading the raid on La Dispensaria. A story eerily repeated with Diana’s death.

He didn’t linger at their gravesides. But on those occasions, just like this one, Horacio bowed his head, recited a silent prayer and made the sign of the cross.

“Lo siento,” were the only words spoken before he retreated from the churchyard.

He had done all he could here for now, and it was time to…not forget but to move on. It was time to face his fears and look to the future. It was time to let old ghosts rest once and for all.

[bugfayce]

Managed to dig up some old concept designs for Amelia all the way from late January to February, putting them all under the cut because there is a lot

(Note: the dude with the goggles and nails in his head is my ol1 oc Francis who I haven't posted here yet)

She's been through a LOT of different changes and iterations, started off as a loose concept on January 22nd when me and my friends found out there were multiple pushers and it's been a downhill spiral ever since then. She is my specialest girl in the world ever 🫶🫶🫶 I hate her so much.

Initially her mask was gonna be more inspired by the gp-7 and gp-5 (ShM-62 if ur a NERD abt gasmasks) but I changed that after seeing one of the cover artworks for STALKER:SoC and finding out abt the gp-4 lmao.

Might revisit the idea of her using an oxygen mask instead of a regular hose one day, but I do also really like what she has rn.

She was also almost a dude at one point but it just didn't feel right 💔💔💔 need my evil women or I will die.

I really REALLY liked the super clunky radio speaker, I based off of a picture of a Hungarian soldier with a giant speaker on his chest that connected to his gasmask. Unfortunately she wound up just looking like an outfit for the reagents lol. I'll see if I can maybe incorporate it back into her design somehow.

There isn't rlly too much to say abt her story since I didn't think abt it that much until I had a 3-4 month long artblock. Initially she was going to be a massive kleptomaniac and her gimmick would be spraying you with gas AND taking an item or two from your inventory but that was slowly scrapped over the course of a few months.

At one very brief moment she was going to be this super washed up kid of a millionaire who stole items cause she was super greedy or smth (which is why she's wearing a suit in one of the pages) but that was also scrapped.

All in all, I'm very happy with where she is rn, one of my favourite ocs ever 🫶🫶🫶

Yap sesh over now ok bye!!!! Feel free 2 ask questions if u have any :333

[taylormereditholivia1989]

I am still so grateful that @taylorswift liked the post of me and my sister Kate during the Lover era! For sure the most surrealist thing that's ever happened!

We are finally seeing Taylor live this year!! We have dreamt of seeing her live since we were young (7 and 4 years old). Money has always been tight for us. Our Mum and Dad knew how much we really wanted to go to the Speak Now tour in Belfast but unfortunately could not make it happen. ❤️

By the time 1989 and reputation came to Dublin, I eagerly watched videos of the tours on YouTube and posted updates on my tumblr. However, by then my little sister Kate was seriously struggling and repeatedly hospitalised with the (then undiagnosed) and vert rare connective tissue disorder that is Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Kate unintentionally lost a significant of weight during these years and stopped getting nutrition from her food. We were terrified and didn't know what would happen.

We were born with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and Dysautonomia, but these were only diagnosed last year. 🦓🦓💛💛

I have dealt with my symptoms from my early teens. My sister Kate has struggled since childhood. This has made socialising and forming solid friendships impossible as we are typically too ill to meet up.

Kate has a knee operation coming up soon. I have kyphosis surgery. We don't yet know if this will be before or after the eras tour in June. We hope everything works out and we can see Taylor live to celebrate all the eras.

To see Taylor right in front of us at Dublin Night One still feels too good to be true. This is what we have been waiting for all these years. I can't wait to sing and dance with Taylor and thousands of other fans for one magical night. I can't wait to have the best evening ever with my parents and my sister. This is what Kate and I have spent hundreds of hours sitting around the fire, carefully analysing verses and discussing hidden meanings. 🔮

Kate and I use a wheelchair part time. We do, however, plan to stand during the eras concert in the front right with our parents for a once in a lifetime experience. We will wear our braces and keep our pain medication topped up. We will get through the night. We know laughs and memories from the tour will last us a lifetime. We have many more tests and examinations left to carry out, but no doubt your jams (especially the tortured poets department as well as future music you are probably already working on). 🤣

We most look forward to hearing the song marjorie live. We both cried when we first listened to it. Taylor describes her grandmother beautifully. We feel especially connected to our grandfather when we listen to this. We discovered a few months back that we inherited our rare genetic condition from our grandfather. He passed young as it went undiscovered. We believe listening to marjorie helps keep his memory alive because we think of him. 💙☀️

We are lucky to have Taylor's music as a form of therapy. We relate to her quirks and her awkward and lovable sense of humour. We genuinely believe Taylor is the funniest person to ever live and we are entranced by how she is so unapologetically herself. Being 5ft 10 and seeing Taylor in the media has really helped me to be more comfortable and accepting of my height and my overall appearance.

@taylorswift if you just so happen to see this post or catch a glimpse of our sequin dresses, curly hair and ever-glittery eye makeup on stage please know: Kate and I are beyond ecstatic to celebrate at your concert. We are going to sing and dance like we have always dreamed of doing. Please ignore our clicking knees and hips if you just so happen to hear them up on the stage. I can say with almost 99% certainty any clicking will be our 22 and 19 year old bodies just doing their thing lol. 🤣

P.S. We can't wait to see your extremely sparkly outfits, shoes and makeup (we really REALLY love glitter in case it wasn't already obvious!!) in person. We love how unhinged you are with sparkles!! 💜

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

- Anna (and the slightly more monotone but equally as funny, Kate). 🩷🩷

[jerzwriter]

What's Forever For Universe Things Unsaid Part 3/3

This fic is part of a new Tobias & Casey AU, What's Forever For? (Learn more about it here.) For those who follow my T/C HC, their background is a little different here. A headcanon will be posted in the next few days. 😊

Book:                   Open Heart (Post Series-Alternate Universe)

Pairing:                Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey)

Rating:                 Teen

Category:            Angst/Short-Series/AU

Warnings: Divorce/mention of miscarriage

Series Summary: Three days. That's all that stands between Tobias and Casey Carrick and the end of their marriage. The house is sold, they've said goodbye, and now they just have to wait to make it official. But what happens if one (or both) have second thoughts?

Chapter Summary: Tobias is heading to Casey's parent's house to pick up their son, Kyle. Both of them have so much they want to say, but insecurity, fear, and other factors stand in their way. Can they overcome the obstacles? Or will this be the end?

Words: 2.5 k

A/N: Participating in @choicesflashfics, I was ambitious and used prompts #1 and #2 this week! Also participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge prompt Love (painful love, but love.) I wanted to do one more quick edit - but I won't have time to do so for a while, so I'm going to be all Elsa and let it go. (Then I'll edit on Saturday and be mad at myself... you understand lol) WFF? Universe Info & Masterlist Tobias & Casey Masterlist All Works Masterlist

Monday evening.

The sun still shone so brightly that Casey didn’t need a light on as she stared at her reflection in the mirror of her childhood bedroom. Something to be grateful for… winter's darkness was finally lifting. She would be sure to include that on her gratitude list before going to sleep tonight. Well, attempting to sleep. It was a new habit she had recently adopted, desperate to find any bit of joy to carry her through.

If the mirror could talk, it would reassure her she was beautiful and that the outfit she was inspecting was as lovely as the dozen that had come before. But Casey remained unconvinced. A quick glance around the room, and suddenly, she was back in high school, every ounce of self-confidence, gone.

But that insecure teenager didn’t exist anymore. She had been replaced by an accomplished physician, one of the brightest of her generation… admired, respected, and renowned. Until recently, she had it all. One half of the dynamic duo… the Doctors Carrick: medical marvels by day, loving… excessively so… couple by night. They did it all with aplomb and looked damn good as they did. When baby Kyle came along, the picture was complete. Everything was perfect. Right? So how’d she end up here?

She pulled a pink sweatshirt over her head and tossed it on the growing pile of rejects scattered on the floor. Apparently that insecure teenager had never been too far away after all.

She had already decided to wear her old baby blue jeans that fit like a second skin. Comfortable and worn, they were like an old friend, and she needed that more than anything. Sure, they looked great on her, and there was a time when he couldn’t keep his hands off her when she wore them, but Casey pushed that out of her mind. That wasn’t why she chose them, she insisted. It had nothing to do with that at all.

A soft cream-colored cardigan over a lacy camisole was the next contender. She twisted around, studying her reflection… No. It was too much. She couldn’t look like she was trying; she couldn’t even bring herself to admit that she was. This could easily turn into a nearly wordless handoff of their son. Parenting agreements, custody arrangements… all part of her new world. Tobias would likely see her for all of five minutes without a care about how she looked or what she wore. But… if he noticed… she couldn’t have him thinking she was primping for the past hour, even if it were true. 

A deep sigh escaped her. She didn’t know if she was brave enough to keep her promise to Sienna. Her confidence was stronger when telling him the truth was an abstract idea and a full day away. Now that the moment approached, courage seemed to escape her.

I love you, Tobias. I never stopped. I think we rushed into this, and if we try a little harder, I know we can make our marriage, our family work. I love you, and I don’t want to live without you by my side. Do you still love me? Do you want me, too?

It was easy when she practiced it a thousand times in her head. Ashe envisioned a beautiful rom-com ending for a love she knew would last forever – together or not. But as the moment approached, it was a past conversation that kept creeping into her mind.

“I can’t do this anymore, Casey. I’ve tried, we’ve tried… we always end up back here. This isn’t what we got married for. We have to accept… I know it’s hard, but… but… We’re not going to make it. Our marriage, it’s over. I have nothing else left to give.”

She survived hearing those words once, just barely; but she was unsure if she had the wherewithal to do it again. The numbing acceptance that defined her new reality was temporarily interrupted by a vision of a happy ending. But what if he said no? Could she remove the bandage and expose the wound once more? She wasn't sure she could.

The sound of voices near the front porch pulled her from her thoughts. 

“Shit!” she muttered, pulling the pink sweatshirt back over her head. It would have to do. She glanced at the clock, he was twenty minutes early, and she was unprepared. Already, things were not going as planned.

~~~~~

His hands were still white knuckling the steering wheel, even though he had put the car into park over five minutes before. He glanced at his watch; it was early. He didn’t want to look desperate… or inconsiderate… for all he knew, he could be the last person she wanted to see. For a man who had spent most of his life with assured confidence frequently bordering on cocky, these feelings still left him lost. Doubt, insecurity, confusion, regret… they weren’t in his vocabulary before. He learned that he was infallibly human, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Taking one last look in the mirror, he jumped out of the car before he lost his nerve. His feet were carrying him down the narrow concrete path that led to Casey’s parent’s home. He had been lucky enough to avoid his parents-in-law on previous handoffs. He told himself it would be better when he and Casey settled into their new places. Then he remembered that wasn’t what he wanted at all. It would be better if….

“Tobias,” Rose called out, doing her best to be polite.

His luck had to run out sooner or later, he turned to her with a nervous smile.

“Hey,” he said, not knowing what to call her anymore. The comfortable, Ma, he had used for the past decade sure didn’t seem to fit anymore. “It’s been a while.”

“Mmm. Just another thing we’ll have to get used to. You’re early,” she observed. “Kyle’s out getting ice cream with David. They should be back soon.”

Her arms crossed in front of her chest, and she did not offer to invite him inside. She knew the day would come when she’d have to be more cordial, for Kyle’s sake, but that day was not today.

“OK… I uh… was wondering if…” he stumbled. “You know what, I’ll just wait in the car.”

But before he could walk away, the front door crashed open, and like a vision, Casey appeared. For a moment, she was sixteen again. The boy her parents deemed unsuitable was attempting to make a call, and Rose was in momma-bear mode sending him away. But she wasn’t sixteen anymore, and the decision was hers to make.

“Hi,” Tobias smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry I’m early. I was just going to wait in…”

“No…” she halted. “Mom, I need to talk to Tobias alone. Would you give us some time?”

“You’re of age,” Rose shrugged. “I’ll be in the garden if you need me.”

Tobias’s cheeks turned red and he was uncertain if it stemmed from anger or shame. Their marriage was ending, but did Rose seriously think he’d do Casey any harm? But then again, how could he blame her? For he already had.

The estranged couple settled into the living room, Casey offered to get him a drink. He politely declined. Accepting her hospitality just didn’t seem fair. He sat perched on one end of the couch as Casey cautiously took her place on the other.

“So,” he spoke softly, eyes fixed on his fidgeting hands, “you wanted to talk.”

“Uh, yeah,” Casey stammered. “I just… we haven’t really had the chance to talk since our last day at the house, and… well… it’s just two days away now.”

Perhaps he would have noticed the tears in her eyes if he were looking her way, but shame prevented him from doing so.

“Yeah,” he sighed ruefully. “Two days.”

“I… I was wondering… is there anything we need to… do… before then?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I suppose the lawyers would tell us if we did.”

“Yeah,” she scoffed. “The lawyers….”

Anxiety began to grip her and Casey turned her gaze away, fixing it on Tobias’s keys and phone tossed on the coffee table. Silence weighed heavy in the room, and the longer it hung, the more forming words felt impossible.

Tobias hadn’t intentionally let the silence linger; he was lost in thought weighing what option would be worse… returning to his mother’s and admitting he didn't tell Casey he loved her and didn’t want their marriage to end. Or telling Casey the truth and risking eviscerating rejection once more.

“Casey, I don’t want this. I love you, I’ve always loved you, and I always will. I know you think I just wasn’t meant to be married, and you know what… you’re one -hundred percent right. I never was. Until I met you. If there was ever anybody meant for me, it’s you. We gave up too easily, and ignoring our problems wouldn’t make them go away. I love you, I want you… please, please give us one more chance.”

“Tobias?”

Casey’s voice beckoned him back to the present.

“Yeah…” he startled, “I was just… thinking….”

“I was saying Kyle will be back any moment now, so… if there was anything we wanted to say… now would be the time.”

“Casey,” he started, “this all feels so, so….”

“Wrong,” she finished. “Look at us. We’re afraid to even speak to each other; this is never who we were.”

“It’s not,” he sighed. “We got so lost along the way.”  

“We did,” she choked back tears. “You were my best friend before you became much more…then you were my everything….” she bit her lip, heart and head still battling over what to say.

“I loved being your everything,” he smiled. “And I loved when you were mine… my everything. But we have Kyle, we’re still a family.”

“But what if we didn’t… have Kyle,” she interrupted. “Would you still want any part of me? Or would you let me go?”

“What… what do you mean?”

“If there was no Kyle, just us… would this be it? Would I never see you again?”  

“Oh, Casey,” he gasped, fighting a visceral reaction to take her in his arms. “I hate to think of a world where you aren’t a part of my life. But I’ve got to admit….” He stopped, afraid to continue, but Casey wasn’t letting him off.

“Admit what?”

“The only reason I might… be done… is because I don’t know how I’ll handle the pain of having you in my life, knowing you’re no longer mine. I guess… I have to, for Kyle. But, Jesus, I don’t want to.”  

“You… you don’t want to?” her heart raced at his words.

“No! No,” he said as a single tear rolled down his cheek. “That isn’t what I meant. A voice inside his head was screaming, tell her, but another yelled just as loudly, telling him he had no right.

Their minds both wandered… a montage of their lives flashed before their eyes. Good friends who had become lovers, so in love, they could barely breathe. A life he never imagined but welcomed with open arms. Her face at the altar and his as he carried her over the threshold of their new home. All the dreams, the plans… now gone. He kissed her forehead as she cradled their newborn son. Perfection. There was no way their life would ever be anything but light. Then came the exhaustion, the demands, the misunderstandings, and the fights… real life crept in on their fairy tale and refused to let go. The compromises that left both feeling like they lost, always followed by resentment. Casey lying in a hospital bed weeping, mourning a life that never had a chance to begin. The dark, dark days that followed, when the chasm only widened. They forgot who they were, forgot the promises they had made, and instead of turning to each other, they both turned away. Tension, anger, misunderstandings… they took control.

“You don’t trust me!”

“Why should I? You’re rarely here, and when you are, you're a million miles away. I know what it felt like to be wanted by you… and I don’t feel that anymore.”

“Life changes, Casey! But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you!”

“Really? So I’m the only one you want?”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean? Yes! You are… you... you don't believe me?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Then we have a real problem! Because if you don't even trust me, I don’t know what we have left.”

The bottom fell out, and it never came back. There was no reason for her not to trust him, but he never took the time to understand why she no longer did. He wasn’t avoiding her, but she never bothered to find out what he was. And now, in two days, they were getting the only solution they thought they had. Until now….

“Tobias,” Casey whispered. “I know this may sound crazy, but I was wondering….”

A loud ring interrupted her train of thought… life’s all about timing. She wasn’t snooping, but instinctively turned its way.

Miranda.

Casey fell back into the couch, visibly defeated. Tobias turned off his ringer and threw the phone in his pocket. He tried to pick up where they had left off, but the train had already derailed.

“You’re still friends?” Casey sniveled.

“Yes. Just friends. I never said we weren’t.”

“You have Kyle for the next four days. She's not going to be around him, is she?"

Tobias’s jaw clenched. “No, she's not. But one day she likely will be. Are you telling me Kyle ever around Bryce? He’s never around your friends?”

“That’s different.”

“How? How is it different, Casey?"

“Because Miranda hates me! She was all too willing to tell you how you'd be better off without me. God only knows what she put in your head and I won’t have her do it with my son.”

“She doesn’t hate you! And she never told me to leave you! No, she’s not your biggest fan, but, in fairness, you treated her like shit."

“I treated her like shit because she didn’t respect me. I was your wife, and she didn't know her goddamn place!"

With a shake of his head, Tobias jumped to his feet. "You know what... I didn't come here for this. We've spent countless hours fighting over Miranda, and I have no desire to do it again.”

"I couldn’t agree more. Besides,” she swallowed, "we’ll be divorced in two days. Your friends, and any other relationships you may have, will no longer be any of my concern.”

Tobias shook his head as he shifted on the balls of his feet. "You were going to say something before the phone rang… is there anything... do you want to….”

“No. It was nothing,” she replied. “It's just... this is hard. It's so hard.”

“It is,” he lamented, sadly reaching out to gently stroke her face. His heart felt warm when she didn't retreat.

“Life’s changing for us, Casey…in big ways, but I will always love you. I need for you to know that.”

“I… I do,” her voice quivered. “And I’ll always love you, too.”

“I think I’ll wait for Kyle outside. I’ll… I’ll have him call you tonight before he goes to bed."

“Please do,” Casey wept, no longer trying to contain her tears. “I wish… I wish things had turned out differently, Tobias. I really do.”

“Yeah," he chuckled sadly, so do I. But what did you say the day we moved out of the house? It was a beautiful dream.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she sniffled. “It was.”

Tobias reached over and took her hand in his, grasping it so tight, he never wanted to let go.

“You know, some nights, I have these dreams.... nothing specific, but in them, you and I are together. They’re back when things were still so good, when we were magic, and couldn't have imagined it would change. When I have them, I wake up it feels like you were there with me…you know? For a brief time, I get to have that again.”

“I know,” she wiped away her tears and tried so hard to be strong. “Sometimes, I have those dreams too… and it feels the same way.... but...."

"But?"

"I miss you SO much when I have them. It’s wonderful and hurts like hell at the same time.”

“I know," he sighed. "So, how about this? From now on, when either of us has one of those dreams, we'll remind ourselves the other may be having one, too. Maybe we couldn’t make things work in the real world, but in our dreams, that's something else. We’ll always be together in our dreams… and no one can ever take that from us.”

“You’re right,” she whispered, turning her eyes toward the floor, the pain almost searing. She needed to escape... cut this short... there was no way she could take anymore. “So, Wednesday..." she smiled sadly. "You and me? The courthouse? Will you be there?"

“Our last date,” he half smiled. “How could I miss it. I'll see you there. Good night, Casey." He leaned over and kissed the top of her head as both fought back tears, then he walked out the door without looking back.

In the days that followed, they convinced themselves they were doing the right thing. It would be foolish to go turn back. They didn’t make this choice lightly, and they had reasons. It was cold feet, they surmised, they just had to be strong. But deep down, both knew these were excuses. The truth was, fear prevented them from taking that step.

In the days, and years that followed, they each learned the most painful lesson of all:

Unspoken words never go away, they live forever in our hearts, haunting the corners of our minds. The one question never answered… “What if?” That became their burden to bear.

A/N 2: I'm sorry! It's an AU! It's an AU! They do go to court on Wednesday, and I HC each asks their lawyers, privately, what would happen if they called it off. The lawyers aren't helpful, telling them the perils of calling things off, only to file again, and in their experience, most couples end up filing again. Discouraged, each of them puts on a brave face and signs the papers. They leave the courthouse together, and Tobias walks Casey to her car where he tells her, “So much, we give it so much, and with one signature, it's over." 😭😭 But it's not over, their story hasn't reached its end.

In this universe, I want to explore real life. Where problems aren't miraculously solved. Friends and family aren’t always supportive. Issues don't disappear. Where pride and stubbornness take charge and leave people broken in their path. But we will also see the resilience of the human spirit and how people can move on, even when their heart is broken.

Will they end up together in the end? Perhaps. (She said cagily.) But if they do, it's a long and winding road that will highlight how love exists in many forms. How it morphs and changes over time, and most importantly, how… when its real… it never ends.

Perma: @a-crepusculo @animesuck3r @annoyingmillenialnewbie @crazy-loca-blog @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @gryffindordaughterofathena @genevievemd @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @secretaryunpaid @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesmonthlychallenge @openheartfanfics

OH: @annfg8 @binny1985 @coffeeheartaddict2 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @ofmischiefandmedicine @peonierose @youlookappropriate

Tobias Only: @icecoffee90 @kyra75

[hummingbird-games]

Dev Diaries

March 5th, 2024

So. We're 3 months into the new year. Huh.

Updates from me? I started a new job! I've been reading/catching up on a toooooon of manga lately (I'm also sloooooowly making my way through a nonfiction read and can't help thinking how Corey would heavily sympathize with me. Sigh.)

I also got another free month of Spotify (lol, I think I'm the only person I know who only uses the free plan because I'd rather spend that money elsewhere??) so I've been on a listening spree and flagging songs for a writing playlist I will use for the majority of the HSDJY 2 drafting process moving forward.

I still have yet to play BG3. My family gifted me the physical edition, so I've been impatiently waiting for it to ship out. It's been 84 years JFJEHFJHJF!!

Hmmm...nothing else interesting has happened to me (that I can publicly share ☠️) so on with the game development updates!!!!!

What Has Gemini Been Up To? -> TKD (again)

March 16th!!! Y'all, this is the deadline the team and I are working towards for a finished and published game 😭 unfortunately my plans for full voice work won’t be realized by then (but they will be realized. Just in a few months. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if y'all get the updated HSD 2 demo before the fully voiced TKD….)

What Has Gemini Been Up To? -> HSD:JY and Ko-fi

Ko-fi first!!

It’s only been a few months (since November??) but I’m super proud of my posting consistency! Granted, I’m a little anxious about how posts will look moving forward once I start moving major updates and general silliness to Tumblr. But. We shall cross the bridge when it appears.

March snuck up on me and I only have the free and any-paid-support ready, but the subbies are just There™️. That being said...when I'm quiet or posting non-Hummingbird content here, there's 99.9% chance I've made a free post on ko-fi.

Tumblr is looking like the other social media platforms right now with its flagrant support of AI, and it gives me a headache trying to decide how to keep everyone informed as well as share posts from my peers and new kids on the block. Anyhoo!!!

High School Daze goodies??

At the time of this post, a couple things have been happening that I haven't had the time (or the energy) to talk about. The obvious? HIGH SCHOOl DAZE: JUNIOR 2 HAS AN ITCH.IO PAGE!! I...have no idea when the full game will be out. I have an idea...but I don't want to say it and feel obligated to make that deadline just so I don't disappoint players. (I'm well aware that some people took one look at Crushed, went "Aww, that's nice, Gemini. Now where's HSD??" 🤣)

The first round of sprites have been commissioned!! If you peeped the key art (also done by my sprite artist, heehee she's lovely) you might notice some new outfits, some new hairdos. Fingers crossed I'll be able to update the page--to mirror the debut game's page--at the same time the new demo goes live (which will showcase all of or at least 75% of the common route of the full game. Stay tuned to find out if we'll focus on the friendship route or if I can defeat the Coding Monster to include all the variations for the romances too aha).

Writing wise? Five of the six total routes are outlined. (Florence's I've…barely started 🥲…this pre-production thing is kicking my ass). I’ve started drafting out the friendship route too, as seen by the random posts I’ve made about HSDJY 2. Well, a combination of friendship route + the common route with its lovely variations that aren’t a nuisance at all. Nope. *eye twitch*

I alsooooooo discovered that all the raw and edited music I created for HSD and for personal projects over the years using GarageBand were deleted. And I never backed them up. So. The tracks I made, the jingle for the splash screen, the main theme and it's 2 variations, and alllllll the little cute things I made that are as old as my own high school days are....gone.

Poof!

If I sound very calm about this, what an astute observation! But my anxiety is being used elsewhere, and I decided that I while I can't go back to the original files to tweak them, I've backed up the other files. And I don't mind starting from scratch with this.

But also y'all, please back up your shit. Please. Don't be caught slipping.

That poll I made a while back that now has results and I totally didn't forget about?? The boys won!! And I'm not surprised 🤣 I haven't decided yet if I'll do a live developer stream or a prerecorded one, but either way it'll happen closer to October, the 2nd anniversary date.

What Will Gemini be Up To?? -> Rest?!?!?

I assumed a lot of things about what would be done or not done by March, and that led me to loosely block out March as a 'rest' month. I wouldn't work on any projects, and instead would read, play console and computer games, and basically take the break I didn't take in December.

Well. The Knight Dance is still in production. And I commissioned sprites earlier than expected. And I didn't plan enough ko-fi content to be scheduled in my absence. LOL and I started a new job!? 🥹

But!!! But but but, I do need to take some type of break so I'll do my best to be scarce in this space (and lower the temptation to work because I see y'all are working LOL). Cool? Cool!

- Gemini 💛

[always-andromeda]

“La Belle Fluer Sauvage” for Nick Flynn. Nick has a really rough night at the shelter and comes home to discover reader decided to surprise show up at his place. Nick actually wonders if he’s hallucinating. She’s wearing a sexy outfit and does some moves on the stripper poles to try to cheer him up (Nick isn’t really quite in the mood so it takes some time). She does win him over, and he becomes ridiculously horny for her - would love it if you include extended oral sex/fingering, primal/carnal vibes, real hot and heavy dirty talk, maybe they both take turns trying to dominate one another 😉

Lol sorry for so much detail ahhhhhhhh 😅

Author's Note | lmao, you're totally fine, bb!! in fact, I should be apologizing for this being part of literally the last batch of milestone posts? like damn, thank you for your patience on this one lol.

Warnings | smut (MDNI), y'all read the request lol, we have oral sex (female receiving), fingering, thigh riding, and a little bit of Nick being an ass, nothing else I can think of!"

A Disclaimer | As with any characters that I write who are based on real people, I would like to say that the Nick Flynn I am writing about here is not meant to reflect the real life Nick Flynn, merely the character Paul plays in Being Flynn!

The waiting is what makes the knot in your stomach twist tighter. And not the good kind. Regardless, the pressure keeps mounting with every minute that passes as you sit on the couch. Even though it's entirely the point of the skimpy red lace set that you have on, you felt unsettlingly naked sitting by yourself.

The only thing you could think of doing was stealing one of Nick's old flannel shirts. You buttoned a few of the middle buttons and fiddled with the ends of the sleeves. To say Nick had been having a rough time lately was an understatement. Ever since his father had shown up at the shelter, your boyfriend was seeming to do everything in his power to hold it together. Every time you saw him the circles underneath his eyes seemed to be getting deeper and darker. You can't even begin to imagine how much of a strain the emotional turmoil of his job wrecks on his mental state.

But now you're second guessing your assumption that Nick is just like any other guy; only in need of a quick fuck to relieve his tension. Because when Nick walks through that door looking as exhausted as ever, you feel none of that confidence you had earlier. Especially when he plops down beside you, barely sparing a glance at your unusual appearance.

He groans and leans his head back on the couch, burdened by some work altercation that you're sure you'll hear about later when he feels ready to tell you. But, for now, you push down the rising guilt and advance forward in your plot, bringing your legs up on the couch so you can kneel beside him. Laying your hands on your knees, your arms press your tits together slightly. 

You hope and pray that the awkwardness wears off. That somewhere in the middle of your act, it'll start to feel natural and effortless. The discomfort only deepens when you reach forward to place a hand on his thigh and Nick finally looks at you.

His eyes go wide in the worst way, betraying the same kind of unease that you're feeling. "Something bothering you, dear?" he asks hesitantly. 

You put on a bright smile. "No," you blink rapidly, "Just wondering how your day went."

"About as good as they all are now..." he sighs and runs a hand through his greasy hair.

"Oh," you swallow thickly. "Maybe I can make it better?" you wonder aloud, lifting yourself from the spot on the couch and strolling around it. Nick's turns so his gaze can follow your figure as you walk towards one of the poles mounted on the stage behind where he sits. His brow raises when you grab it and swirl around once, reaching your hand out with a flourish.

You plant a foot firmly on the platform and gracefully slow to a stop before looking at Nick again.

"That was...nice," he says carefully.

You pout, "Just nice?"

Realizing the obvious surprise in his tone, he over-corrects. "That was fantastic, really. I just didn't expect this...why don't you come here?" he looks you up and down, only now drinking in the whole look before urging you over with a sly tilt of his head.

You try not to give into your nerves as you step down from the stage and make your way toward him. Nick notices the way his flannel loosely hangs from you, exposing the thin, lacy straps of the scarlet lingerie laying on your skin. 

As soon as he takes it all in, he's grabbing your hand and bringing you around the couch again and encouraging you to straddle him. His hands rest possessively at your sides and slide up underneath the flannel.

"You look really good in this," he comments distantly.

From your spot on his lap, you look down with a bashful smile. "You actually like the set?"

Nick blinks blankly before shaking his head. "I mean this," he rubs the fabric of his shirt between his fingers, "I like this on you."

You nearly roll your eyes at the sentiment. You should've predicted that the poet would turn to jelly once he saw it. You could put in infinite amounts of effort on your appearance but it wouldn't compare to the simple but tender gesture in his eyes. But you're glad that something is working on him, regardless of if it fits in with your plan. He still looks up at you like you hung all the stars in the sky just for him. It's a type of exclusivity that makes pride swell in your chest. 

"What else do you like about me?" you lean in a little closer and roll your hips, practically daring him to do something to you with the sheer proximity between your bare skin and his.

Nick reacts with a deep breath and swipe of his tongue over chapped lips. "What kind of question is that?" he shoots you a trivial look.

"It's a simple question." Your fingers tease the folded collar of his leather jacket. "I think a smart guy like you should be able to answer it pretty easily."

Nick takes you by surprise, turning you so you're flat on your back against the couch. You adjust so you can sit up and get a better look at him as he begins to travel.

"Hmm, I'm a smart guy now...why don't you tell me what I should be paying attention to, honey?" He leaves sloppy kisses down your jaw before pulling the flannel away just enough to he could continue down your chest. Though his descent down your body is quick, each kiss is filled with vigor; you hear it in how he breathes and hums, waiting for you to answer him.

The closer he gets to your panties, the more your voice falters when you respond, "I think you should appreciate...how hard I try...for you..."

That makes him stop dead in his tracks between your legs. He rests his cheek against your inner thigh and when you look down, you see how his brow furrows.

His tone takes on a note of sincerity, "You know you don't have to try for me, right?"

You reply breathlessly, "I know. But I just– you do so much at that shelter and–"

Nick sighs and starts to chuckle humorlessly, "But that's my job. Not yours. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be just fine, okay?"

You catch how he sleepily blinks. Still, he's nearly salivating being this close to the warmth between your legs. His voice is hoarse as he teases, "Besides, why would you have to try when you already have the perfect answer right in front of me?"

"You think I'm perfect?"

Nick laughs again, "Of course. You know, Shakespeare once said, 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate..." Then he kisses you above your clit.

You groan, mostly from the cheesiness of the line. "I don't think that Shakespeare was talking about pussy, Nick."

"Who knows. It's open for interpretation," he waves your comment off as he hooks his fingers around each side of the waistband. You lift your butt off the couch to allow him to pull the garment down, just for him to crumple it into his pocket. 

Now gazing directly at your folds, Nick drags a long finger up the center of them, gathering the little bit of slick that's formed. It's been a while since he's touched you like this. So you're still sensitive when he dips in, coating his finger in the slick. 

"I take it that I should recite poetry more often when I'm about to make you come, huh?"

"I will slug you if you do, Nicholas,"  you threaten halfheartedly, earning another pompous laugh.

As he pushes the lubricated digit against your entrance and lets it slowly swallow him, he breathes deeply in time with the way your walls clench around him. He continues his recitation, "So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, so long lives this, this gives life to thee."

And with that, he can't help himself any longer. As soon as his finger is buried completely inside of you, his mouth goes to your clit. He circles the bud with his tongue and smiles when he feels it harden slightly.

Hands flying to his hair, you hate the thought of possibly degrading him, but you need more of his face against you. So, using your grip on his dark locks, you begin to faintly thrust against his face, trying to find that sweet spot that you can ride all the way to the end of your rope. That's when his lips wrap around your clit, sending you through the damn roof almost entirely.

Nick lets you have your moment; lets you put an entire show into rolling your hips into the thrusts of his finger and the suction of his mouth on you. He waits for your gasps to get higher and feels your thighs tense up with the consistently building pressure against your clit. Each of your strangled little sounds of pleasure just increases his ego. And that, on it's own, builds him up enough to where he pulls his finger from you and grabs your wrists from where they'd been grasping his hair.

Gathered in one of his large hands, he holds your wrists up and crawls his way towards you again. "I thought that you were trying to impress me?" He chuckles before giving your parted lips a searing kiss. Even though you don't kiss him back, you taste yourself on your own tongue; it's impossible not to, considering you're all over his chin. But based on the way he smirks smugly into the kiss, you know he's enjoying the power play. And a Nick Flynn who is full of himself is one that you don't want to encourage.

Finally recovering from the devastating edge and regaining a semblance of a grip on yourself, you break your wrists free from his hand; a move that he didn't expect you to have the willpower to do based upon the way his brows raise. You push back on his chest until he's properly sitting up and take your place on him once more. But this time, you're planted firmly on his thigh.

Even if you'd been wearing those red lace panties, the material of his dark wash jeans would've overwhelmed your still sensitive cunt. But you commit to the moment and grind down on his thigh, bracing your hands on his shoulders.

"Maybe I changed my mind," you whine, barely able to stand the electric wave that makes you quiver.

Nick can tell that you're not nearly as strong as you're making yourself seem, spacing out each roll of your hips sporadically and reacting severely each time. The sight is almost pitiful.

"Then at least let me help you," he murmurs. With your eyes closed, you feel Nick's hands rest at your sides before they travel down to your hips. Then there's his fingers digging into your flesh and guiding you into a temperate rhythm, turning your pathetic rubs into steady grind against his jeans.

You squeeze your eyes shut as that really makes the coil start to form again in your belly. Like muscle memory, it all comes back quickly. Your body is familiar with this slow burn and is eager to rush through each twist and turn just to get to the ending. Nick is going to absolutely ruin you with this one and you can do nothing to stop it; and what's worse, is that you don't want it to stop.

Long after the end hits you, you're still clinging to him. The climax moves through you so fast that you feel like if you move even a little bit, you might just fall apart. So you stay, waiting for the tension to simply fade away. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, shaking as your arms snake around his torso.

"Fuck, I really needed that," you whisper.

Nick chuckles hollowly, taken aback by the way you attach yourself to him like a lump. He decides on rubbing your back over his flannel. That texture makes the smile reappear on his expression. He hums, "I think I needed that too."

Being at that shelter takes something out of him. Every single day he works his ass off, taking care of people, often to what feels like an unsympathetic audience. He thinks back to his father; always so disappointed that the world hadn't simply folded to his obvious brilliance. Seemingly disappointed with Nick for not bearing the burden of his mistakes. It's thankless work.

But this isn't. And Nick, himself, clings to that. That, here, especially when he's holding you, he has a place where he is treasured.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log 2

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Much less than yesterday, felt sick and sleepy so barely got anything done. It was also warmer inside today.. Very much dreading summer. I still feel like the people who ~~ love warm weather sooo much~~ must also have central heating and air and are able to escape the warmth, or at least have cool airy houses where they can get cross breezes or something.. I just fail to see how ANYONE could enjoy sweating all day because it's like 75F indoors, etc. grrbb,,, the headaches, sleepless sweaty nights, constant physical discomfort, etc. The next few days look cloudy and rainy though so.. yEs.. haha HA

Got a new charger for my old 2004 nokia phone so it actually turns on now, and recorded myself going through the ringtones and games. I might add the footage to a currently not fully edited video of me also looking through other electronics (old phones, turbo twist math, etc.). I love old ringtones actually and if I were rich, I would love to collect old phones specifically just to have a catalogue of what they're like and all of the sounds they contain.

Managed to have a tiny burst of energy and take photos of 3 outfits before my arms and shoulder started hurting and I got too warm.

Sent email to one doctor.

Translated like 3 words for the Avirrekava poem thing I mentioned yesterday. My language document is not organized very well at all so I've kind of lost my flow of working on it. I've heard about people making searchable dictionary type things for their conlangs, so I'd like to look more into that maybe. As well as making a custom font, though I don't know if that's more difficult for syllabaries (so wouldn't be directly linkable to a plain english alphabet keyboard?? eh?). Anyway, I need to finish the tapestry/painting thing/etc. soon though since I have no good place to put it. The canvas is warping a little just laying haphazardly on my closet floor lol.

Made one quick mspaint background image for the next batch of song snippet things for my jokey music youtube.

Edited like 10 minutes of the Giant Worldbuilding Slideshow Project.. couldn't focus on that either since being at the computer today irritated my shoulders and arms.

Notable sights: Saw 6 baby ducks and their parents swimming in a nearby pond!! It's interesting how their colors seem to change so much, and the young ones have the little spots on their back. Not much else, I was not very active lol..

Goals moving forward: Still working on consistent sleep schedule. Focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Plant nasturtiums. Finish and upload videos, edit pictures, post the poll adventure thing that has been sitting in a draft for weeks (I thought I would get it done today, but alas.. I don't even have to do much, just proofread and post it, I just keep having no energy/being preoccupied with other things/hurts to be on computer.. grrr.. I want to continue the story lol >:T).

Notable foods: HAD ASPARAGUS YEaaaaaghhhHHHH!!!!!!!!! Asparagus SQUAD!!!!!!!!!! ... Also a few pieces of smoked gouda with lunch, one of my favorite cheeses.

[funakounasoul]

Miko Month: The Meta History

I gave a quick history on Miko's childhood a few days ago. But what about her "meta" childhood? How did she even come to be? This is a thing I talk about every Miko Month, but it's always fun to revisit. Even on Tumblr, I’ve mentioned the history before, but I think it’s been AGES since compared to Twitter’s “every Miko Month” lol

So sit back, get comfy. We're going back to...Halloween 06? WAIT-- YOU?!

PREHISTORY

Halloween 2006...From 5th grade all through high school, I was a member of almost every single iteration of Band (marching, wind ensemble, jazz, pep, etc). Marching season was almost over and we get to wear costumes for the Halloween parades we do for nearby schools.

I was The Goth-Vampire-Knight-Thing, of course (for those who haven’t seen my Twitter, basically it’s this outfit I put together for my junior and senior years of HS, and that was, actually, how I described myself to anyone who asked). My best friend at the time, though, was showing off the prototype version of the cosplay we were both going to have for a con in '07 - the Azumanga Daioh school uniforms. Here are the finished ones (featuring me and my friend!)

Anyway, by the time we finished the third grade school parade route, we were high on sugar or something and were really goofing around. My friend, to both of us, didn't QUITE look like Yomi and, I dunno, we started goofing around and somewhere along the way "Koyomiko" was uttered. By the time we got back to our school, it was "after school" time and I was just waiting for my mom to come pick me up. We were STILL goofing around, and jokingly tossing around "Koyomiko" this, "Koyomiko" that. 

 And some gears started turning as I went home that evening...

I do NOT have the original sketch of Miko anymore, but she was literally drawn on November 1st (hence her canonical birthday!). And I went to school that next day telling my friend how I made a kid for Tomo and Yomi. She humored me, at least (she wasn't really a yuri fan lol)

A few days later, I would try to draw her digitally. I still used Pixia at the time...as well as tiny Wacom tablet. TINY TINY. Graphire 4 I think? Anyway, THIS is the pic I showed to the world:

DEVELOPING MIKO 

As I said, I decided that she was a child of Tomo and Yomi. Because I love Tomo and Yomi. And they have a kid somehow (science!) Her original full name was, legit, Koyomiko Takino-Mizuhara. I couldn't decide what the dorks would decide to use as a surname lol

This became my Thing for FOUR YEARS! Sure, I did regular canon Toyomi yuri and other fan art and stuff, but the Takino-Mizuharas were basically my main shtick. I coined the term "Azu-Kid." Miko's content was akin to Yotsuba's. Except lesbian moms. And Osaka as an "auntie."

I met Leigh through this silliness. She even brought out her own OCs from a different thing to have as friends for Miko. She was the sarcastic, smarmy, *half*-French (in this iteration) Sachiko Nakamura. Also, her older brother (and INITIAL love interest for Teen Miko)...Hayato

(ahem, yeah, it's really funny, considering what happened over time) COUGH. Anyway. Eventually, I wanted Miko to take the spotlight instead of her moms (which are the bulk of the original content - Toyomi parenting). It started out just as a new generation of Azu, but, over time, I wanted something different. I didn't want to do just comedy. I wanted some drama. So I tweaked it a bit and "Reminiscence & Reflections" became the new draft. At first, the old Azu gang were still part of it, but in the background. And then...they disappeared.

Oh, you bet I was ready to start a webcomic, you betcha! It took a bit, especially moving in with Leigh, trying to get through college (and failing), and less time to art. But eventually, I thought I had it all ready. And I posted this:

I started drawing up the pages on paper and then...then...Why wasn't I happy? Why is it so BORING?! I even thought about sprinkling some supernatural-y stuff in, but it wasn't working. I would slowly stop drawing Miko for a bit. SM and Pony art prevailed. Here's an example of what I DID draw during this “drought period”:

Enter me also unsure of what I wanted to do in the real world. I was in a brief stint at a call center. I was still in the initial lecture phase when I just had...this epiphany. I started scribbling down notes, thoughts, doodled some uniforms and weapons. Oh my god. This was it.

Well, almost. It would take a few more tweaks during the year of 2013, but basically, Raison came to be! And by July 2014, the rest was history~ 

[eddsworldstuck]

i'm busy with Game of Dice stuff *looks directly at the thumbnail i need to draw and matches i recorded that i gotta look through to see if they're worth editing. then looks at the stuff i wanna write for Game of Dice*

i'm also like, waiting for the new Marianas Trench album, Haven, to release on the 30th this month cause i just know there's the chance i might change more chapter titles to the new songs lol. i'm pretty sure the act names are set in stone. last act and its chapters i don't see changing at all from what i already have.

like, the entire tracklist has been revealed but it also matters that the song itself and its lyrics fit to what i wanna name a chapter after (i spent a good hour or so looking through music i listen to for the original timeline act/chapter names before some got renamed).

...on a side note, guess who just changed another chapter name cause one of the songs randomly released and i just saw it appear on my Spotify randomly

that's 4 songs from Haven used for ews chapter names, help

also i just had the easiest time getting Brave Alfonse to +10 in feh and the tord yootooz i pre-ordered earlier in the year is gonna start shipping towards the end of this month i'm gonna hit him with a hammer /j

so august is a good month this year lol :)

anyway on a story note: A1C1 is almost done (not including time i'd set aside in wanting to get it beta read cause i frequently find mistakes after i post lol). but the main thing holding me back is still thinking about entry artifacts. i have the idea of what i want the artifacts to mean but thinking of what they will be and how they solve their puzzle holds me back lol.

anyway again, have these in the meantime

some excerpts from A1C1. it's just about the handles i made for the 4.

random bit from a future act & chapter cause their dynamic is just this to me. the sylph/RT is 🤏 always this close to strangling her fellow derse dreamers [you look closer and see my fingers are touching.]

rough sketches of prospit/derse stuff, using slightly redesigned versions of fancy dreamself outfits i've designed years ago. no i'm not sure if they actually wear these in the story itself or simple dreamself outfits instead, but i like these designs and wanna use them somewhere. idk when this one will finish. ...and also i have a game of dice piece i need to finish. all their designs is based on their class outfits in someway. Tom only kinda where it's mostly the cape and i kinda used something else as inspo. "what's the other inspo?" Captain Dr. X i guess you can consider this piece a successor to a very old prospit/derse piece i made in 2014. ...also i finally got the idea to make this after listening to moonlight daydream on repeat. altho it's a song that would fit the duo instead. no there is not a chapter named after this song, but i was real close on doing so lol.

and rough sketches of the fancy dreamself outfits of the duo cause why not. like the others, SA's outfit is based on her class outfit (Mage, fanon design). RT is the only one not based on her class and is being based on Filipino and Laotian fashion. with some added details. "why is she different?" cause the reason i had years ago when i designed my og idea for fancy dreamself outfits: i wanted Filipino and Laotian inspiration somewhere because i'm Filipino Laotian. this is one of the few times y'all can see her face. we also won't see their dreamselves in ews anyway cause they've already ascended/god tiered.

[saffron-gold-stardust]

Lucid Dreams and Ceasless Nightmares….

Coming up with some forms/designs for Dream and Nightmare because fun >:3

Still pretty early on and workshopping these bit by bit, but I’m enjoying the ride. Sharing these now since I’m gonna have to rest my arm this week, my RSI flared up again pretty badly. Blegh! Anyway I’m gonna ramble about my ideas under the cut, maybe share a few concepts.

Dream and Nightmare belong to Jokublog

But these designs are mine, hee hoo

So yeah, going with “Lucid Dream” for our dude on the left. Lol. It started out as a pun, but the definition actually ended up working so nicely with my ideas; suffused with light, luminous, transluscent… plus the pun. Yep. Had to use it lol. I’ve been having fun painting some crystalline stuff related to these boys’ SOULs, may be considering making Lucid Dream’s outfit liquid-like, as if it was a high shine satin silk, or super-organza. Ok, if you’re wondering wtf any of that means, look up the Armani Privé Coture line from Fall 2021. The fabrics there are INSANEEEEE.

Anyway, hopefully it’s easy to tell from the visuals that this is more akin to a swap!Dream (tho i really dont know much about them aaa) than a corrupted/shattered variant. I’m a big fan of angel wings and all, I’ll slap em on most any chance I get, but honestly if Nightmare is a semi-eldritch horror, then why not Dream as well? Lol

Lucid is main-universe Dream, in that post-Underverse idea i have stewing in my noggin. He ends up in posession of a few extra golden apples through accidental timeline bullshittery. His hand is forced by Nightmare, and to protect his friends and re-balance the multiverse, he consumes them and assumes this form. His body takes it pretty hard, skull splitting completely on the left side from an old wound, and beginning to crack on the right. Everything weeps a liquid gold ooze. His cape-ribbons tear/transform into two smaller tendrils, while a larger set of four burst from his soul out the back and destroy the sun patch. Ouch.

In the midst of this brutal fight with Nightmare, he’s fighting to control the overwhelming nature of his new power, as it fights to take him over. While he generally remains—ha—lucid, he has moments where his control slips away, and a primal, ancient desire to fill the universe with light overtakes him. Somethin’ like that. Still kinda vague on the details. Less happy-crazy or full on stoic-coldness, and more like incomprehensible god energy lol. A little chaotic. Mainly tho, he remains Dream, just desperately trying to save his home and his friends and maybe his brother, if he can hang on long enough.

Here’s some expressions, notably the goopy eyes and phasing in and out of madness. :Db

Noot’s design isn’t a power-up, moreso a redesign for funsies. I wanted to give him something intimidating and regal, play around with how everything is made of goop, and off of Dream’s design elements too. It’s pretty messy atm, still trying to balance things. Here’s a few sketches of that :>

Hey if u got to the bottom I love you, have a slice of cake. It’s apple cake lol