#but it’s. gone. the natural transmission was lost

[bookwyrminspiration]

it’s incredible how in a single generation you can completely and entirely disrupt the transmission of culture and language and by incredible I mean somebody sedate me

[tinynerdz360]

Future Ghost Chapter 11 New Mission

Krik sat in his office waiting for an important call from command.

Kirk's computer terminal beeped with an urgent hail from Starfleet Command. He tapped the screen to accept the call. Admiral Nogura's stern face appeared, his brow furrowed.

"Captain Kirk, we need to discuss your report on the stowaway...this time traveler, Danny Fenton," the Admiral said, his tone clipped.

Kirk tensed. He had a feeling this conversation was coming, but he wasn't looking forward to it. "Yes, Admiral, I’ve made a detailed report on him. What else would you like to know?"

Nogura leaned forward, staring intently through the screen. "Is there any possible connection between this boy and the disappearance of Amity? Ensign Gray brought us concerning findings about unusual energy signatures at the crater site. But damn it, Kirk, we've lost so much data from the wars. It's beyond frustrating." The admiral shook his head wearily. “What baffles me is that nobody, and I mean nobody noticed a whole city was gone. All these decades, not a mention of it.”

Kirk blinked in surprise, not expecting that to be the first topic at hand. It looks like Chekov’s friend had gone to Starfleet with her findings. Kirk chose his words carefully. "At this point, we haven’t asked him about it. We had some concerns about his ability to handle such news. He’s already stranded in time. We’re giving him more time before we break the news to him. But as far as we can tell, we don't have evidence directly linking Danny to Amity's disappearance.” However, Kirk knew more than he was letting on. The boy's abilities, his true nature...but Kirk needed to protect him.

"Our scientists have been studying the site and noticed some unusual phenomena." The admiral's eyes narrowed. "For one, there's a distinct lack of signs of weapon use. No residual energy signatures, no debris patterns consistent with known weaponry."

Kirk nodded. "That is strange. Have the scientists there found anything, maybe in historical documents?"

The admiral shook his head, frustration evident in his tone. "That's the problem, Kirk. With so much data lost during the wars, we can't even pinpoint exactly when the city vanished. It could have been at the beginning, in the middle, or even after the conflicts ended."

Kirk's fingers drummed on the armrest of his chair, a nervous habit he'd never quite been able to shake. "What about the crater itself? Anything unusual there?"

"Yes, and it's deeply concerning." The admiral's image flickered, the transmission wavering momentarily before stabilizing. "The crater is in a state of stasis, almost as if time itself has stopped within its boundaries. The soil remains barren, no signs of life or growth. It's as if the very essence of the place has been drained away."

Kirk tapped his chin in thought. “Maybe these energy beings from this Zone Danny mentioned have something to do with it?”

The admiral's expression turned grave. "It's a possibility.”

Kirk's thoughts turned to the enigmatic teenager under his command.

"There's something else, Kirk." The admiral's voice jolted him back to the present. "The energy interference around the crater is playing havoc with our equipment. Sensors malfunction, scanners give false readings. And some of our scientists...they've been affected too."

Kirk sat up straighter, alarm bells ringing in his head. "Affected how?"

"It's like they're in a trance. They keep leaving the site, drawn away by some unseen force. We've had to establish a quarantine zone just to keep them contained. Once they're far from the crater, they return to normal with no memory of the place."

Kirk met the admiral's gaze, determination etched into every line of his face. "I'll get to the bottom of this, Admiral. You have my word."

The admiral nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. "I know you will, Kirk. But be careful. We're dealing with forces beyond our understanding. Tread lightly and keep a close eye on that boy."

"Oh, and Kirk," the admiral's voice cut through Kirk's musings, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand. "There's another situation that requires your immediate attention."

Kirk straightened in his seat, his eyes sharp and focused. "Go ahead, Admiral."

The admiral's face was grave, the lines around his mouth and eyes deepening with concern. "We've lost contact with the science vessel USS Hades. They were studying a newly discovered planet, one with the ruins of a long-dead alien civilization."

Kirk frowned, a sense of unease settling in his gut. "Lost contact? For how long?"

"Nearly 48 hours now," the admiral replied, his voice tight. "Their last transmission mentioned a distress call from the planet's surface, but we haven't been able to raise them since."

Kirk's mind raced with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last. A distress call from an unknown planet, a science team gone silent... it had all the makings of a mystery and a dangerous one at that.

"We'll investigate immediately, Admiral," Kirk said, his voice firm and resolute. "I'll have my crew prepare for departure within the hour."

The admiral nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his face. "Good. But Kirk... be careful. We don't know what you'll find down there."

Kirk's jaw tightened, his eyes hardening with determination. "We'll take every precaution, Admiral. But we will get to the bottom of this.

Kirk stood from his chair, straightening his uniform as he moved towards the door. The conversation with Admiral Nogura played over in his mind, the weight of his responsibility as captain pressing down on his shoulders. He had to ensure the safety of his crew, but he also felt a strong need to protect Danny, the mysterious teenager with abilities beyond anything he'd encountered before.

Kirk called his senior officers in for a meeting about their next mission.

Kirk turned to his senior officers, his expression grave. "We have a situation," he began, his voice carrying the weight of command. "The USS Hades has gone silent. They were studying ruins on a newly discovered planet when they sent out a distress call. Our orders are to investigate and render assistance."

Uhura's eyes widened, concern etched on her face. "A distress call? What could have happened?"

"Unknown," Kirk replied, his brow furrowed. "But we'll find out. Spock, I want you to coordinate with the science department. Gather all available data on that planet and the Hades' mission."

Spock nodded, already mentally compiling the necessary information. "Understood, Captain."

Kirk's gaze shifted to Scotty, the ship's chief engineer. "Scotty, I need the Enterprise ready for anything. Make sure all systems are at peak performance."

Scotty grinned a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Aye, Captain. She'll be purring like a kitten."

Kirk allowed a small smile before his expression turned serious once more. "There's one more thing," he said, his voice low. "The admiral has concerns about our young stowaway, Danny. He wants us to keep a close eye on him and report any unusual behavior."

McCoy frowned, his protective instincts flaring. "Jim, the kid hasn’t done anything wrong. We can't treat him like a suspect."

Kirk held up a hand, his eyes understanding but firm. "I know, Bones. But we have our orders. We'll handle this delicately, but we need to be vigilant."

As the meeting adjourned, Kirk's thoughts turned to Danny. The boy was an enigma, his abilities both fascinating and potentially dangerous. Kirk knew he would have to tread carefully, balancing his duty to Starfleet with his instinct to protect the young hybrid.

The crew bustled with activity as they prepared for the mission, a sense of urgency and anticipation filling the air. In the science labs, Spock and his team pored over the limited data on the mysterious planet, searching for any clues that might shed light on the Hades fate.

And on the bridge, Kirk sat in his command chair, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen as the stars streaked past. 

Chapter 12

[orassian]

Greetings, Orassian nation. My name is Aŋro J'Bassim, and I will be your news hostess for now. The Central News Agency offered me this position after the previous host went AWOL. Rumour has it she was a conflicting person carrying dangerous beliefs on her back. It was quite rude of her to disappear on the nation's watch in this way. Let us hope the law enforcement is investigating her case, determining where she has gone.

Our news will be short for today. Her Excellency oversaw the construction of the war temple in Yellidzõkh city. No doubt, many warrior-priests were invited to witness such an event in jubilant praise of the Divine Saviour, the War God. Our people flocked to the opening ceremony to be one of the first inside the house of Their divine radiance.

The People's Ascendance Initiative went into effect, as was authorised by the Matriarch. Any person, be they Orassian or of other species, could undergo a procedure to acquire psionic capabilities far quicker than what were done during the era of the former Tribunal. Our society is moving increasingly towards integrating psi-communications into our daily life, and we would not want the rest of our non-psionic citizens be left behind.

In our other news [STATIC] our scientists made a crucial discovery in shielding tech [LONG STATIC] we remain optimistic, however.

Ghaem! Why is it not working properly? Come on, fix it people!

[STATIC]

/ SIGNAL LOST /

/ DETECTING SYSTEM OVERRIDE /

/ HOMING ONTO THE INCOMING TRANSMISSION /

One, two, three... Testing reception. Interference signal stable. Turning on video feed now.

Good evening. Erhrdra D'Kara here, the High Executive Officer of an independent news organisation 'People's News Republic'. I was a previous hostess of the Orassian state news, before I found asylum in another interstellar state. The nature of it I cannot reveal for security reasons and for the safety of my employees.

Our mission is to bring you unbiased news and deep-dives into the authoritarianism propagated by the state media. There will be a lot to unpack in the incoming months.

Starting with the first bombshell: our sources on Prophet's Promise and its colonies confirm that the Matriarch has sent a special enforcer task group to disperse dissidents and silence vocal opponents. Those enforcers were reported to be the same person in appearance and behaviour clad in dark power-armor, suggesting the use of clones. Despite the common consensus on the capitol against cloning, the Matriarch seems to disregard such.

Our anonymous sources have confirmed to be in possession of an enforcer's body, after their brutal assault on their hiding place. Upon autopsy, it was revealed that the clones were heavily modified cybernetically, and their cranium was completely enveloped in circuits designed to suppress free will of the affected person. Such modifications were also used as a transmission relay for direct commands, but the source of those could not be determined.

The ethical implications of such discoveries are appalling. Not only the Matron Council is actively complicit in these highly deplorable methods, but the Matriarch does not seem to mind it either. But, of course, the Matriarchy would not comment on such if they were approached with this question.

For tonight, this is all. More truthful coverage about the individual lives of our citizens under the oppression of the Matriarchy is coming soon.

This has been 'People's News Republic'. Truth to the people. May it guide us away from the darkness.

/ TRANSMISSION END /

[quirkwizard]

Do you think that you could explain to me how Transmission works? What does it mean when it say that it's a quirk that "defies the laws of reality" and "works on the cellular level"?

So I’m confused on how gearshift works. So to my understanding anything deku touches he can make them speed up which includes objects because of the second users flashback. But how does it control the trajectory of objects? Also could he use it to speed up the bodies natural healing process. What about using it in reverse and slowing down things?

I'm not sure if I could answer the cell part as it's not expanded on. The most I could guess that it's simply meant to give an idea of how thoroughly the Quirk affects targets now or how it's now able to work on the user when it seemingly couldn't before. I can talk about the rest of it.

"Gearshift" works by simply speeding up targets the user touches. Its comment on "defying the laws of reality" is an overdramatic explanation for how it ignores things like inertia. It's only speeding up how things move in space, so it can't heal the user or cause things to slow down. I'm not sure if it can control the trajectory of objects either, the flashback doesn't give us enough context to say whether or not that's the case, and I couldn't find anything saying that. Though this could have been something lost once it gained more and more power with "One For All", sacrificing all control in favor of power like all the other Quirks had gone. Either way, Izuku doesn't seem to have any real control over what he can move. He can control how fast they are moving, as seen with the various gears he uses on Tomura and him suddenly starting and ending the effect, but he seemingly can't move them around like, say, "Poltergeist" could do with objects.

[hellguarded-moved]

≥ INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM: @hellhunted ( "SOURCE" );

' why was it me who was the only one who lost everything? ' [ freshly demonized ra/ig angst? ]

he clasped her features firmly in his hands; clawed, scarred. hands that have seen one too many struggles already, and yet, still managed to be so selfish.

he was so happy to have her back. he'd gone through hell and back, quite literally, to bring her back. it nearly brought tears to his eyes, the way they were glistening in the setting sun while his head tilted and an awfully lovesick smile pulled at his lips. bits of stray hair falling into his eyes. perfect. everything was perfect.

they could just go back to how everything was before. whatever time spent apart was negligent— did she even remember it at all? he didn't think to ask. didn't think to care about what she wanted at all. she'd been born mortal; surely she'd long since made peace with her death, knowing of her origins?

so why did he have to interfere with natural order?

fingers tensed against cheeks, and he pulled her forward to press his lips to her forehead— no more affection was allowed when she so abruptly, so forcefully, yanked herself free from his hold.

it had left him speechles. eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

" what's wrong? " what a question. " didn't you miss me? aren't you... happy? "

the domain of the living and dead was never yours to control.

" you didn't lose anything... i brought it back! brought you back! so that we could be together... always... " the words slowly died on his tongue. as a demon himself, since birth, he had no idea what it was like to possess a ( full ) soul, to possess humanity— he'd set out to discover what it was like, but it was a concept he could never fully grasp... he could never be like her— but now, she was like him.

it hadn't once dawned on him that there was much more that the once-priestess had lost with her forceful ressurection. something beyond the hellhound's comprehension. something that had slowly, but surely, started to fill his heart with guilt.

" i... i'm... i'm sorry...? haven't we promised each other forever? " ah yes, part of their wedding vows— who would've thought that silly puppy would've taken it so literally. and so here he was, thinking he was doing her a service. now that there had been some distance made between them, he could fully, properly, see into her eyes... were they even hers anymore? a gleaming pair of emeralds, brighter yet darker at the same time than the brown hues he was once used to. her very figure was different. was this still the woman he loved?

of course she was. who else would it be?

he'd brought her back.

so why did she look at him with such hatred in her eyes?

" rashida? " a call. soft, gentle; could she hear him?

[tempest-toss]

Teaser

This is the final transmission of Bravo Team. In the span of a week, we have been broken up. The assault on this... this piece of shit mansion has gone to hell.

Brenda has been lost in the underground. I hear nothing but water from Sapphire. Cristoffer is talking in circles on channel three. I hear... animal grunts? from Sven's radio. Static from Iroh. I hear humming from Winona but no response to my calls. I hear rope I think from Agent Epsilon. ANd the others... ack.

My foot is caught under a piece of metal. I hear nothing but nature around here. This was a fucking disaster.

Quill, I know you can hear us. With Marcos gone to werewolf land and the others out of commission, I am now your standing superior. Ack. I order you to abandon your post as sniper outside. You are to enter the premises, and secure as many of us as possible, and secure the object. Please. Please I want you to find us alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EVENT: IN AND OUT STARTING SOON!

[umichenginabroad]

Abhi in Paris Week 8: Grinding & Going 13,000 feet high!

Hi folks, I'm back again with a life update. This week was filled everything from grinding for labs & exams to going to the top of the French Alps :) Europe has SO much to offer, Iove it!

Monday: Diving into ENSEA's Lab (March 4th)

Monday marked the beginning of a typical week at ENSEA, but with a twist—a dive into the world of communication systems labs. At ENSEA, our labs are equipped with cutting-edge circuits, sparing us the hassle of fumbling with breadboards. Armed with a signal generator and spectrum analyzer, I delved into the intricacies of signal processing, the hum of machinery adding to the excitement of my first lab experience at ENSEA.

Tuesday: Bonjour to Progress (March 5th)

Tuesday brought with it a sense of progress as I delved deeper into my French studies. The evening was dedicated to conjugating verbs and mastering the art of giving directions, a testament to the strides I've made since arriving in France. Honestly, I'm proud of myself. I've gone from being completely lost to only being slightly lost :) Anyway, after class, I went back home to make gnocchi with a cream & tomato sauce and sip on some French wine.

Wednesday: Lost and Found in Geneva (March 6th)

Wednesday dawned with the promise of adventure as I embarked on a journey to Geneva aboard the TGV Lyria. A small hiccup at the train station—mistakenly heading to Gare de l'Est instead of Gare de Lyon—only added to the thrill of the adventure as I narrowly caught my train.

Arriving in Geneva, I was greeted by the breathtaking beauty of Lake Geneva and the iconic Jet d'Eau. The city's old town beckoned with its labyrinthine streets and centuries-old architecture, while the allure of luxury watch boutiques and designer stores added a touch of glamour to my explorations. A leisurely dinner at a charming Italian eatery in the heart of the old town offered a taste of Geneva's culinary delights, though the city's prices served as a reminder of its upscale reputation. Geneva is something else - there's no poverty, the streets are sparkling. I couldn't find a single grocery store, but saw a million boutiques and designer store. And to top it all of, the price of anything is absolutely insane. You'd have to be a millionaire to live there.

Thursday: Scaling Heights in Chamonix (March 7th)

Thursday was a day of adrenaline-fueled adventure as I journeyed to Chamonix, a spot for outdoor enthusiasts nestled amidst the towering peaks of the French Alps. Opting for a hike up Aiguille du Midi, the height of the French Alps, I found myself navigating treacherous icy paths and sheer cliffs—a thrilling yet nerve-wracking experience for someone not accustomed to such terrain.

Reaching the summit via the Telepherique de L'Aiguille du Midi (a cable car that scales up 10,000 feet), I was rewarded with sweeping vistas of the majestic Mont Blanc massif and the surrounding alpine landscape. Standing atop the glass box jutting out from the base station, I felt a rush of exhilaration mingled with awe—a moment suspended between earth and sky, a testament to the raw power and beauty of nature.

Friday: Back to ENSEA's Grind (March 8th)

Friday saw me returning to the routine of classes at ENSEA, where I immersed myself in the world of power engineering lectures and labs. For the first time, I had the opportunity to work with high-powered lab equipment. It's the equipment used for power transmission in the real world, not the normal miniature circuits we use in lab.

Saturday: Versailles: A Window to France's Glorious Past (March 9th)

Saturday was dedicated to exploring the opulent splendor of the Palace of Versailles—a testament to France's rich history and grandeur. From the glittering Hall of Mirrors to the meticulously manicured gardens, every corner of Versailles had a deep history of the French monarchy. It was one of the most beautiful palaces I've ever seen!

Sunday: Rest and Reflection (March 10th)

Sunday offered a much-needed respite from the whirlwind of travel and adventure. With a visit to the gym and a tough cycling class, I took the time to recharge. I spent the evening catching up on work and grinding for an exam the next day!

My goal is to never stay still. I've only got so much time here! So, next week, I'm off to Edinburgh, Scotland, and then Cork, Ireland for Saint Patrick's Day!

À plus tard! Abhi Athreya

University of Michigan, Aerospace Engineering 2025 ENSEA in Cergy, France

[savagenewcanaan]

Michael Savage New Canaan Ten Traditional Muscle Vehicles

With the appeal of motion pictures like The Fast as well as The Furious, Gone in Sixty Seconds as well as The last Trip, there has been some reference to the great old muscular tissue vehicles which were commemorated in movies like Bullit, Vanishing Point and also naturally The Dukes of Hazzard collection. This top 10 listing looks at several of the muscle auto icons born from the late 60's and also very early 70's.

 The major measure of these autos is power, with Brake Steed Power (bhp) being the term flung around most frequently. What this describes is the power released by the engine before the transmission, generator, differential, water pump, and also various other parts sap its power. If you are utilized to Kilowatts, after that think about that 250kw translates to 335.26 bhp.

 The 1969 Pontiac GTO

 Conceptualised to gain attract the more youthful market, Pontiac placed a 6.3 litre V8 engine into the midsized Tempest shell, creating a cheap rapid car. To the shock of Pontiac's advertising and marketing group the GTO became massively popular and also in 1969 they fitted it with a 6.5 litre V8 which might kick out 366bhp. The Judge was birthed.

 The 1970 Buick GSX

Michael Savage New Canaan

 Once again the concept right here was to squash a beast of an engine right into a midsized body, in this instance the Buick Skylark. In 1967 the Buick GS came to be recognised as a standalone design available as a sedan and convertible.

 The 1970 version was provided an impressive 7.5 litre engine efficient in producing 400bhp. The GSX body can be found in yellow or white just, including in the photo which made this cars and truck an unique classic.

 The 1967 Chevrolet Camaro

 There were different options available to those buying a very first generation Camaro, the Z28 bundle being one of the most interesting. With a 4.9 litre engine, power steering, disc brakes on the front and a four speed hands-on gearbox, the Z28 was produced racing - creating up to 400bhp.

 The Plymouth Roadrunner

 Developed to defeat 14 secs over a quarter mile, the Plymouth Roadrunner was stripped down to the bare fundamentals, sacrificing also the rugs in order to make this into a monster of a maker. It included a beefed up guiding, brake and shock absorber and a 6.3 litre engine which pressed 335bhp. An optional boost originated from the 7.0 litre version's 425bhp.

 The Dodge Opposition

 Hitting the market in 1970, the Dodge Opposition was a hit from the get go, offering greater than 80,000 in the first year. Although numerous alternatives were provided, the R/T is the model which draws in one of the most interest with its 7.0 litre Hemi engine rejecting 425bhp. Later on designs lost the story, with the '72 model going down to a meager 240bhp. See the Challenger in the cult timeless flick, Vanishing Factor.

 The 1966 Ford Fairlane GT

 Introduced in '62 with a 3.6 litre V8, the Ford Fairlane was provided a transformation in 1966, total with a 6.4 litre engine capable of 335bhp. As if this were inadequate they chose to upgrade to a 7.0 litre NASCAR engine with 435bhp. Rigid front suspension and also disc brakes provided the vehicle much better taking care of, and the brute power kicked the dial over 60mph (100km/h) in six seconds.

 Oldsmobile 442

Michael Savage New Canaan

 The Cutlass model was outfitted with a cops spec engine with the ability of 310bhp. The 442 refers to the four barrel carburettor, four speed hands-on gear box and the twin exhausts. The 442 had a credibility for its handling when contrasted to various other muscle mass autos, many thanks to its enhanced springs, shocks as well as the calming safety of an anti-roll bar.

 The 1968 version was redesigned as a hot sports car, with a 7.5 litre block blowing up 390bhp.

 Plymouth Barracuda

 Although the Barracuda was launched in 1964, simply a couple of weeks before the Ford Mustang, it was not till 1970 that Plymouth obtained larger popularity with attractive lines and also some serious roar under the hood in the kind of a 7.2 litre 390bhp. The various other choice was a smaller sized 7.0 litre Hemi block which knocked senseless some added power at 425bhp!

 Despite having an overhauled suspension the power was so much that the 'Cuda gained a credibility for difficult handling.

 The 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS

 The 1965 Chevelle SS sported a 6.5 litre block pushing 375bhp, which was all too much for the front end of the car, making for some pretty terrible handling. Fortunately this was attended to with the revamping of the suspension as well as the addition of disk brakes on the front.

 1969 saw the introduction of the leading engine specification, which was included in the El Camio pick-up as well. The 1970 SS was powered by a 7.4 litre V8 with 450bhp drawing the Chevell to 100km/h in just 6 seconds. Later on designs were readjusted for unleaded fuel and also the power result experienced considerably.

 Dodge Battery charger

 Bo as well as Battle each other's ride of selection, the Charger was launched in 1966 and some 37,000 autos were offered in the initial year. A 7.0 litre Hemi reputedly rejected around 500bhp, though it was formally rated at 425bhp. This beast reached 100km/h in just 5 and a fifty percent seconds. The Hemi engine choice was available till 1972.

[atlanticcanada]

'This is still evolving': Health experts urge caution as illnesses continue into 2023

Monday afternoon, Nova Scotia’s top doctor dropped into a mobile vaccination clinic at the Sackville Public Library to get his COVID-19 bivalent booster dose.

“I'm at the end of my 168 days after having COVID infection in late July,” said Dr. Robert Strang. “Now I’m eligible. I can get my booster dose.”

His message in the post-holiday season -- update your immunizations.

“Flu season is starting to be on decline, fortunately, but we still have COVID around and we're seeing some signs of an increase in COVID,” he added. “Which is not unexpected after all the socialization around the holidays, etcetera.”

“The new variants, even the so-called ‘Kraken,’ it is an Omicron strain,” he said. “All the evidence would say there is still good protection against severe disease.”

That message – one Nova Scotians at the clinic take seriously.

Daniel Momberquette stopped by to see if there were long lines at the clinic. Discovering little to no wait, he chose to get his COVID-19 booster and his flu shot.

“I’d rather err on the side of caution,” he said. “I think people have fallen into a false sense of security about the numbers. Unfortunately, they don’t publicize the numbers as much as they used to and I wish they would.”

“I started hearing about more people getting infections, so I decided to get it,” says Leigh Martell. “I want to be safe and I don’t want to get too sick. I have two little kids at home that I need to take care of.”

Strang says flu season is waning but COVID-19 cases are on the uptick.

Nova scotia's latest respiratory report recorded 140 new cases of Influenza A, 165 of respiratory syncytial virus (RSV), and three flu deaths between Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve.

The province’s latest COVID-19 numbers show 73 people were admitted to hospital because of the virus over the two-week period ending Jan. 3, and it added 19 more deaths to Nova Scotia’s total of 694 lives lost since the beginning of the pandemic.

The Department of Health and Wellness has also confirmed that two cases of the new Omicron sub-variant -- known as “Kraken” -- were also detected late last month.

“I think it's fair to say that this is a more infectious variant that we've seen so far,” says infectious disease expert Dr. Matthew Oughton. “But that’s just about transmissibility,” he says.

“It doesn’t speak to the severity of the cases … and very clearly after the months and months of primary doses, of boosters, as well as to a certain extent, natural infection, we have a population that is more immune now than it’s ever been.”

“That’s not to say that this will cause zero disease, but I think it’s safe to say that the current boosters available to us will still continue to be effective,” Oughton adds.

Epidemiologist Susanne Gulliver remains concerned.

“When you infect more people, there's more infections, [that] means there's a greater chance of death and Long COVID,” she says.

The St. John’s based researcher at NewLab Clinical Research would like to see more data on COVID-19 made available to the public more often.

“It would be nice if the provincial governments gave out numbers on a more frequent basis,” she says. “People aren’t masking, and unfortunately, they need to be told to mask,” she says.

“This new variant, it’s the same ‘song and dance’ as we had with Omicron,” Gulliver adds.

Before the holiday season, several Nova Scotia emergency departments (ED) were dealing with record numbers of visits and struggling to keep up.

According to the province’s online reporting, average overall visits have decreased, but many emergency departments remain at or above 100 per cent acute care capacity.

In November, the head of the IWK Children’s Hospital said Nova Scotia was seeing extremely high numbers of children sick amid a "perfect storm" of respiratory illnesses.

Monday, the interim head of the IWK ED said there has been a slight reprieve.

“Overall, our volume has definitely gone down on a day-to-day basis,” says Dr. Emma Burns.

But she says the hospital is still seeing children sick with COVID-19 and RSV.

“We’re still seeing a fair amount of acuity,” she says. “We have a winter uptick every season … the difference this year was that the peaks coincided … they came earlier than expected, and they were larger than expected.”

“Just before Christmas, things felt really dire,” she says. “I’m glad to say we’re now in more what we would expect to see at this time of year.”

When asked what the post-holiday outlook might be, Burns says it’s difficult to predict, and that means precautions remain important.

“If you're sick, and you can, please stay home. If you're sick and you can't stay home please wear a mask, wash your hands, get any vaccines that are available to you,” she says.

Back at the vaccination clinic, Strang said it’s all part of dealing with the current reality.

“This is still evolving,” he said, “still lots that we need to learn.”

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/JspgKuY

[spyglassrealms]

Alone Together

Every now and then, someone will ask, "why is it still called first contact?" They think they are clever, apparently, by pointing out that we already know intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe, and so it should simply be called 'contact.'

But it is clear that they do not understand the weight these words carry.

Far back in 2145, humankind made first contact on a small, airless, inner moon of Uranus. Except... no one was there to greet us. All we found were the remains. Within a week, our understanding of life in the universe had gone from hopeful optimism to somber concern: had we really been so close to contact, only for our elder and only counterparts to vanish? Research on the ruins revealed that the ancient starfarers had wiped themselves out in a catastrophic civil conflict, and we feared what that meant for us. We resolved, then, that we would do better, not only for ourselves but for the ones who had come before us and lost their way. We had given up one kind of loneliness -that of simple ignorance- for another, far worse kind of loneliness: that of the sole survivor.

Our loneliness was not to last, fortunately. In 2191, the crew of the Arete mission to Proxima Centauri encountered a species of lifeform on the frigid moon Calypso which exhibited unusual intelligence, and in time discovered the great settlements they inhabited. After two years of study, the Arete explorers established rudimentary two-way communication with the Calypsians and grew a conversational relationship with the people of one nearby settlement. Humankind was overjoyed: here, at last, were the interstellar neighbors we had longed for.

But eventually the Arete mission had to return to Earth, and the Calypsians would not achieve interstellar radio transmission for a hundred more years. Even once they were able to commune with us across the great void, we found that our species were too different to have much in common aside from scientific interest. Thus, we were faced once more with a new and uniquely tragic kind of loneliness -almost that of estranged cousins.

In 2220, our prayers seemed to be answered at last by a stray radio signal from Tau Ceti. Though it took time, we were able to decipher its meaning and sent a return message, followed by a probe. The initial course of contact was slow, as is always the case with remote contact from across the emptiness. Over patient years of interaction, we learned how to communicate with the skae, and eventually sent a crewed mission to their homeworld of Ra'na: Andromeda One, the first of many.

We discovered the skae were a younger civilization than us, by several centuries, and so took responsibility for teaching them to be more like us. We taught them the secrets of nature and technology that they had not yet uncovered- of black holes and quarks, of the microchip and the fusion reactor. They accepted our gifts with wonder and gratitude, and in turn taught us their ways of terraformation- new methods to accelerate the healing of our own world and transform others from dead waste to bountiful gardens. Together we founded a coalition, to unite all civilizations seeking starflight under the common purposes of curiosity and betterment. But although this was everything humanity had ever wanted, we still felt the pangs of loneliness: the burden of the elder and mentor.

It was our good fortune, then, that elder civilizations were watching us. Just a decade after founding the USSC, Earth received a radio message from the star Epsilon Indi. It was a direct greeting, excited and hopeful. "We are shyxaure of Delvasi and ziirpu of Virvv. We saw you," they said, "and you have done well. We have ached to reach out for centuries, but worried over what would follow if we did. The alliance you have forged with the people of Tau Ceti is assurance that we are, truly, alike in thought. We are proud to call you neighbors, and hope to soon call you friends."

While we waited for their embassy ship to arrive as promised, humanity reveled in passing a test we had not known was ongoing. We had proven ourselves worthy of contact, worthy of inclusion into the interstellar community... and yet, a new loneliness seeped through the cracks of our joy. We had anguished in isolation for so long, all the while our cosmic seniors watched from not so far away. For hundreds of years, we had not realized there were new friends just beyond the horizon. And so, in secret, we mourned this loneliness: that of what could have been.

In the centuries that have followed we have discovered even more sapient beings around us: the rimor of the Eridani Network, the Xib Zjhar of Xiilu Qam, the pluunima of Niima. We are connected to each other in many ways, but the most important of these is simply that we share the gift of sapience. In this vast and quiet universe, any fellow intelligence is infinitely precious because we are the only ones, as far as we know. Every contact event is first contact, all over again, ​because every new civilization that we encounter will expand our horizons just enough for us to wonder: "was that last contact? Is there still someone else out there, or is that the end of roll call? Are we alone together, now?"

This, the grandest and most poignant of all mysteries, is why the motto of the Coalition is "solum habemus invicem et stellas" – "we only have each other and the stars."

[radical-revolution]

H.H. TENZIN GYATSO, THE 14TH. DALAI LAMA

Lazy Dalai Lama! Lazy Tenzin Gyatso!

In my experience, training can change the harmful mind. In Tibet there is a saying, ‘People who come from Amdo are short-tempered.’ Losing one’s temper, therefore, is equivalent to saying one is showing signs of being an Amdo. And, you see, I come from that part of the world! Since being fifteen or twenty, my mood or mental function has obviously undergone some change. These days hardly any irritation comes, very little. Even if it does sometimes come, it quickly disappears. And that is due to my own effort and training. The result is a marvellous benefit — I’m always happy. I lost my country. As a human being, I rely on friends, but I have lost my mother and my tutors. I have some new tutors now, some new gurus. However, most of my old tutors are gone. Old faces disappear; new faces come. Yet I am always happy, without problems, because I can see the way life is.

As long as we are under the domination of ignorance, there is no permanent happiness; that’s natural. If we are really disturbed by the way life is, then our responsibility is to look for salvation, nirvana. Suppose a monk says our direction is towards nirvana, and that if we can, we should implement those methods that bring us towards nirvana. In my case there’s not a lot of time, so it is difficult. And another thing is my laziness! Lazy Dalai Lama! Lazy Tenzin Gyatso!

But thinking about these teachings or these advisors as much as possible, we can see that disturbances take the form of superficial phenomena. Things come like ripples on the water — something comes and then it passes, and then another trouble starts — comes, goes, comes, goes, comes, goes. Consciousness is beginningless and endless. And phenomena never change that basic nature. We should realise this and take it easy, and this will give us some peace; we shall get some peace. That is ‘Bishop’ Tenzin Gyatso’s way of thinking! My own experience is that the mind can be trained, can be changed — that is definite.

Shantideva explains in the text here [Bodhisattvacharyavatara| that, in order to over- come ordinary enemies, you need strength and weapons and so on, whereas in order to overcome the enemy. within, delusion, you need to develop wisdom and realise the nature of phenomena; then you don’t need any other weapon. or strength. This is very true. Actually, when I received the teaching, the oral transmission, from Khunu Lama Rinpoche, I remarked that the Bodhisattyacharyavatara says that delusion is humble and weak, ‘But,’ I said, ‘this is not true because it’s very forceful and strong.’ And Khunu Lama Rinpoche immediately responded by saying that we don’t need an atom bomb in order to overcome delusion. And that is the meaning here: in order to destroy the inner enemy, we don’t need weapons. We simply need to develop firm determination and wisdom, some realisation of the nature of mind, the nature of negative thought, the nature of phenomena.

Once we realise the nature of mind and concentrate on it, and once that knowledge, that wisdom, becomes part of us, then it works. So, in a way, it’s easy and very cheap! Unless you are a millionaire or billionaire, you can’t buy external weapons, can you? Shantideva spoke in this way.

**From; The Nature of Mind-

[whimsicallyreading]

“I just realized I’m desperately in love with you-“

Prompt Day One for Rowaelin Month

~

"Rowan, take a picture of that one. It's so cute." Aelin fawns quietly.

Rowan gives a long-suffering sigh. "There are a thousand of them here. Do you have to pester me into taking a picture of every seal pup we come across?"

"Her name is Fleetfoot, and yes. Isn't that the whole reason we are here?" Aelin looks at him equally annoyed, a strand of gold spun hair freeing itself from beneath her parka.

"I'm here to study the behavioral patterns of tiger seals and orcas in a rapidly shifting environment. You are here to keep our equipment functioning. If you keep talking, neither of us will finish our jobs and escape from this wasteland." Rowan switches the lens of his camera to focus on two male seals who were squaring up with each other in the distance.

Rowan nearly threw his camera over the boat and jumped off into the coastal waters of Argentina when he realized who had been assigned to assist him on this expedition.

He'd insisted that only he and one other make the trek across the Antarctic. Insisting a large group could impede the quality of his research. When they agreed, Rowan thought they would send him with Lorcan or Brullo. Both were accomplished survivalists and scholars—valuable additions to any team.

Instead, it was Aelin Ashryvver who waited for him at the dock. The most annoying newbie on his floor. Dorian insisted that her knowledge of mechanical engineering would make her invaluable.

So far, she was just a verifiable pain in his ass.

She sat around bored as Rowan spent the day writing notes and snapping photos. Occasionally she helped him set up microphones. On one instance, she fixed their ATV. It was the first and only time he'd found her truly useful.

Rowan couldn't wait to go home.

"Alright, we have the cameras positioned. We should head back to the base. The temps are dropping. We need to warm up and eat."

Aelin nods quietly, she would never admit it, but the severe temperatures are taking a toll on her. It was amazing how important something like fat is in a frigid environment. Rowan is naturally covered in layers of dense muscle. While Aelin is fit herself, she's still small and the first to feel the effects of persistent cold.

Watching the seals, she occasionally found herself jealous of their thick layers of blubber that kept them comfortable. She should have carb-loaded before they set sail.

They hop on the snow ski and traverse quickly over the powderlike substance.

~~~

When they reach the Terresen South Pole station and ditch their coats, they fall to the floor in a cascade of flurries. Rowan's spine straightens for the first time that day. Their coats were dense. With the additional weight of all of the equipment he carried, there was a perpetual bend in his spine.

It was a huge relief to be inside a climate-controlled building—light layers, freedom movement, and feeling in all of his extremities. Tossing that coat off was the pinnacle of his daily routine on this mission.

That is until he realized it was freezing.

Walking over to a light switch with urgency, he flicks it a few times. Nothing happens. Anxiety wells in his gut, and he hits the wall a couple of times before flipping the switch again.

"Shit," Rowan hisses.

"The power is out," Aelin's eyes widen with the realization. "That's not good."

"I thought I was the scientist, but look at you stating the obvious," Rowan growls as he shrugs his jacket back on. It wasn't nearly as frigid inside the insulated building as it was outside, but it was still bitterly cold. Keeping warm would be their first step in survival. Without heat, shit could hit the fan for them very quickly. Thankfully their satellite phones should still be functioning; he'd charged the battery the day before. There should be enough juice in the phones to send out a mayday call even without power.

Aelin doesn't put on her jacket. Instead, she heads in the direction of the lockers with a look of determination plastered on her face. It was a look he'd slowly begun to grow familiar with, mainly when Rowan was holding a ration packet she wanted. It made him uneasy.

"Where are you going?" Rowan calls after her, picking up her jacket. He wouldn't be held responsible for his younger, female partner freezing to death. HR at the University would have his head on a stick if she died on his watch.

He follows Aelin to her locker, where she's already sliding a grey jumpsuit over her clothes.

"I can fix the engines," Aelin pulls her zipper up. The jumpsuit covered head-to-toe, but they weren't nearly as warm as their snow gear. He could already see a slight blue-ish tint to her lips. "They probably just stalled. All I need to do is go down, diagnose the problem, and fix it. Easy as pie."

Ignoring the massive oversimplification of their situation, knowing it was a lost cause, he focuses on the immediate problem. "You need to keep your jacket on," Rowan thrusts the article of clothing at her. Her color was concerning him, and the longer she went without the thermal garment, the higher his stress became.

Aelin gives him a long-suffering look, all too similar to the one he gives her. "And get my hood or a sleeve caught in one of those beasts? Those machines are massive. Getting snagged could rip my arm off or kill me. It's like you don't even have a master's in engineering and a spotless safety record," she smiles at Rowan's scowling face. "Oh wait, that's me. Let me do my job, Dr. Whitethorn."

Before Rowan could argue, Aelin was gone down the stairwell towards the engines.

Dragging a frustrated hand through his hair, he tosses her jacket on the floor. His time is probably better spent getting through to their mission handlers on the satellite phones anyway.

~~~

Two hours later, Rowan has long finished his call with Dorian.

Their expedition leader had asked if they wanted a recovery team sent out to them, but Rowan hesitated. He was on the mission of a lifetime. He'd spent years waiting for approval to research at the southernmost tip of the world. It would be a devastating blow to his career and his pride for it to be cut short. The selfish part of him wanted to stay. The rationale, reasonable part of him was aching to stay the full duration of the expedition.

"You know, Dr. Whitethorn," Dorian spoke carefully. "There is a reason we chose Aelin to accompany you. She may be green and lacking a doctorate, but she's a miracle worker at what she does."

"Are you asking me to put my life in the newbie's hands?" Rowan asked without his standard vitriol. The situation and the cold had left him with no energy to be spiteful. He'd heard talk of her capabilities amongst the guys, and he'd seen a fraction of it when their snowmobile broke down. Rowan thinks back to the look on her face when she'd gone down the stairs. The steely determination of a warrior marching off to do battle.

Dorian laughs as if there was something funny about two of his most stubborn colleagues getting stranded in the south pole by themselves. "I'm not asking you to do anything. It's your call."

Rowan closes his eyes and contemplates their options. His head told him they should call the extraction team before they were nothing but frozen corpses. Yet, his heart didn't want to leave so soon. There was still so much work left to do.

Could he rely on Aelin?

"We will stay for now. Expect a call in twenty-four hours with a progress update." Rowan disconnected the transmission without any of the standard formalities.

After the fruitless call, he checks their food supply. Rowan scans the shelves, comfortable they wouldn't go hungry any time soon. Their only concern would be keeping all their shit from freezing, including their water. Rowan triple checks that everything is insulated, sealed, and stored away before moving on to other essentials, like batteries.

Another hour passes as he takes inventory, and Rowan is starting to feel the cold more than before. His nailbeds slowly shift from blue to white beneath his thick gloves, and he can't control the slight quaking spreading up his limbs.

When Rowan hears the doorway to the stairwell creak, he goes to check in with Aelin on her progress.

What he finds when he opens the locker room door sends his heart to his throat.

Aelin's hands loosely grip the zipper of her jumpsuit as she weakly attempts to free herself. Her face is a ghostly white, and her movements sluggish.

If she weren't moving, he'd have thought she was already frozen.

"Aelin, are you good? Talk to me." Rowan rushes to her and helps Aelin step out from the jumpsuit.

"I fixed the engine," Aelin coughs into the crook of her arm, her voice scratchy from the cool air. "It will be a couple of hours before they can catch up and heat the building."

Rowan rips off a glove and holds a bare hand to her cheek. Aelin's skin is freezing to the touch, even to his own icy hands. He notes that she isn't trembling the same way he is. It's not a good sign, the biologist in him notes. He knows it's her body growing too weak to keep itself warm.

"Sit down. You're freezing," Rowan helps her slide to the floor and looks at the discarded jacket that's still lying there. It won't warm her quick enough.

"Rowan?" Aelin speaks from her slightly slumped position.

Rowan is pacing, trying to think. They don't have a means of warming water for a bath. Laying next to the generators is too risky.

"Rowan," Aelin murmurs, her eyes drooping. "I can't feel my feet."

Rowan looks at her, and for a moment, she looks like an ice princess. Her blond hair is slipping from its braid and coiling across her colorless face. The cerulean blue of her eyes was the brightest color he now saw regularly beside the southern lights. They stood out even more starkly now.

It was all wrong.

"It's going to be alright, Aelin. You said the power is back on?" Rowan lifts her into his arms, her freezing nose burrowing into the crook of his neck.

"Yeah," she rasps against his shoulder. "But it will take a while for the building to heat."

"We don't need the whole building to heat. Do you trust me?" Rowan trots down the hall, careful not to bump her against the narrow doorframes.

She mumbles something incoherent into his shirt. "I trust you."

Rowan is thankful that the cold keeps the flush from his face. He reaches the desired room and fiddles with the control panel on the wall. A wave of relief hits him as the room behind the heavy door audibly hums to life.

"Okay, here we go." He says more to himself than Aelin. Rowan ditches the jacket and pulls his long-sleeved tee over his head. The buttons of his pants are next, leaving him in only his boxers.

Turning around, Aelin looks weary but not surprised. "Nice abs."

"Thanks," He says and kneels next to her, eyes searching her face for permission.

Aelin dips her head, "I'm not shy, Whitethorn. Don't fret."

Rowan helps Aelin maneuver her stiff limbs out of her garments until she is left in nothing but her bra and panties. Her face is pained as even more of her is exposed to the cold.

"Hurts," Aelin grits through her teeth, and Rowan gathers her up again. The icy room is like barbs against his exposed skin, but he's not in a position to complain.

The minute he carries her into the balmy air of the sauna, Aelin flinches. "Oh, that smarts."

"I know. It's going to suck for a bit while your blood recirculates." Rowan consoles softly, knowing he would also feel the cramping as they got their blood moving.

Drastic temperatures changes weren't the ideal way to warm up, but they'd spent far too long in the cold. He needed to get Aelin shivering again. It was the body's natural defense against the cold, and when a person could no longer shiver, it meant they were dipping into the realm of hypothermia.

The sauna was an added addition for the comfort of the researchers who visited the Southern base. It was a great tool to warm people after spending hours in the harsh climate. He'd heard tales of it from colleagues who'd visited the base before but hadn't yet saught to use it himself. Rowan was too focused on the mission. It hadn't carried any appeal for him until this moment, and now he was beyond grateful for its existence.

Rowan sits on the floor instead of the bench so that Aelin can curl up comfortably in his lap. Skin-to-skin contact was one of the best ways to help a person regulate their body temperature. He soothes a calloused hand over the length of her arm, trying to spread what remained of his warmth to her skin.

Aelin's cheek rests against his chest, and Rowan uses one hand to free her hair from its braid. The curtain of gold fans across her back, and he has to resist the urge to run his fingers through its waves.

He'd noticed how beautiful she was the day they first met at the university. Out of respect, he'd immediately repressed those thoughts. They were professionals, and Rowan wasn't about to ruin his reputation fawning over the new, young blonde on their floor.

But with her laying half-naked in his lap, it was hard to disregard how pretty she was. It wasn't even just her appearance. The girl was magnetic in every way. People paid attention when she walked in, and she claimed the lion's share of air in the room.

Fenrys and Conall flirted with her remorselessly. It secretly irked him. Rowan had long since memorized the way she laughed and how she'd smile as she shoed them away. It was all good-natured fun for them, but it always made Rowan irrationally angry. The time she'd showed up at the annual Christmas party in a green velvet dress with an open back nearly left his brain on the floor. His eyes had raked the smooth plains of skin, only turning away when she'd tried to catch his eye.

If he'd been paying attention, he would have seen her look of disappointment.

Rowan had written it off as an infatuation—a natural response to seeing an attractive woman. The scientist in him wanted to boil it down to chemistry and hormones. Cold facts that could diagnose the way he felt every time he laid eyes on her. Yet, as Rowan laid there with a hurting Aelin in his arms, he began to wonder if there was something more.

Her pain was making his chest physically ache.

A pair of arms snaked around his waist, and his body jerked. Aelin looks up at him sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm just really comfortable."

Rowan relaxes, "It's fine."

The steam in the room is slowly building. Rowan can feel the cramping beginning in his legs. Aelin's weight on his thighs was not helping the slightest, but there was no way in hell he'd move her.  

"My body is aching," Aelin says lightly, but he can hear the strain in her voice and feel a slight tremble running through her.

"That's good. Can you feel your feet?" Rowan can no longer resist, and her hair parts between his fingers like strands of gold silk.

Aelin tightens her arms around him, "Yeah. A bit. I didn't realize how numb they got until I took off my boots."

There's a slight tickle at his back, Aelin's finger tracing a pattern against his skin. A flush of warmth rushes through him, not from the sauna.

He's in unending deep shit.

"Aelin," his voice wavers uncharacteristically. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

The fingers on his back continue making their delicate patterns. "No."

"Aelin?" He asks again, but she cuts him off with a groan.

"Stop asking me questions and just kiss me," Aelin grips the back of his head and pulls his lips down to her's.

An inferno blooms inside his soul.

Aelin could never be a winter queen. She was the raging embodiment of summer. A burning ember he'd carried from the north into this land of ice. As his lips move against hers, he swears his body is lit ablaze, and when Rowan opens his eyes, he's delighted at the flush he finds unfurling across her cheeks.

"It's suddenly a lot warmer." Aelin laughs, looking more lively even as her body starts to quake from the warmth finally reaching her.

He kisses her cheek and tilts her ear towards his lips, "Aelin?"

"Another question?" Aelin's smile curls into something feline. "Is this that scientific curiosity the university is always going on about?"

"I just realized I'm desperately in love with you,"

Rowan lets the truth fall from his lips. It was just the two of them. They were the only human souls in this far corner of the earth. There was no one to stop him as he finally lets the emotions he'd been repressing until the moment Aelin was in danger wash over him.

"That's not a question," Aelin responds after a moment, her tone light and jovial.

Rowan smiles. "It's not."

Aelin curls back up against Rowan, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers. An embarrassing sound of contentment escapes her, which worsens her blush.

Not forgetting their original purpose in the sauna, Rowan grips her hands and massages them between his. "You have no response?"

"Not one that HR is going to like." Aelin winces as her hand spasms, and Rowan methodically works to ease the ache.

"Say it anyway," Rowan implores. Screw the university. He was tired of living for his work alone. Nothing outshined this moment, holding this woman in his arms. He could find a new job, but if Aelin reciprocated his feelings, he couldn't find another one of her.

"Well, I thought it was pretty obvious when I wore that dress to the Christmas party and then found a reason to walk past your office every day." Aelin huffs and looks up at him, "Don't tell me you didn't know?"

Rowan was speechless.

Aelin's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Rowan, Dorian, and I are friends. Did you know that?"

"What?" Rowan blinks confusedly. That was common knowledge, but he didn't understand why she was bringing that up now.

"Dorian and I go way back. He knew I had a thing for you, and I told him sending me on this trip was unethical when I'm such a new hire-" Aelin trails off, waiting for him to grasp her point.

"Wait," Rowan looks down at her, bemused. "Dorian was trying to set us up?"

"Human recourses won't like that very much either," Aelin grins. "But Dorian would keep our secret. He owes me a lot of favors."

The sauna's temperature had slowly been rising, and Rowan could see that his skin was returning to its usual color. Aelin still looked a bit pale, but it was probably residuals from being so close to freezing.

She'd risked herself to save the expedition and successfully fixed the engines. Rowan didn't believe for one second that Dorian only sent her in an elaborate attempt to set her up. She was bright and cunning. He was lucky to have her along with him.

"You got here on your merit," Rowan presses a soft peck to her lips as he soothes her unvoiced concern. He refused to let her doubt her level of skill. "But if the feelings are mutual, I would love to take you on a date when we get back home?"

"I would love that," Aelin crawls off his lap and holds a hand out. "Come on, now. We need to eat and sleep. We have seals to observe."

Rowan accepted her hand. Forget the seals. He would have a difficult time keeping his attention on them. His eyes were glued to her bare legs as they moved and the way her hair swung free of its constraints.

She smirked over his shoulder. Aelin knew precisely what she was doing to him.

Rowan had traversed to the end of the world to understand the natural universe a little better. While he hadn't unlocked any great mysteries, he couldn't help but think what he did find was better.

[separatist-apologist]

Answering the "prompt"- Lucien "the most daring pilot in the galaxy" and Elain, " his sexy Naboo senator wife" for one person + me. I meant for this to be so smutty. In my head it was so pornagraphic. and you know what, if people like this, it can be multiple parts. I'll write how these two dingbats met.

Anyway, my Elucien SW AU is SFW and rated E for Eww where is the smut?

-

Swoop, duck, fire—Lucien’s thoughts were cut off by a too bright explosion and the warning trills of his nav droid.

You have an eighty percent chance of death, the machine beeped, irritation laced through each tone. Lucien only laughed, rejoining the fray with a relish. Swoop, duck, fire, he told himself, looping away from the spiraling tie fighter. What was supposed to be a routine patrol through the mid-rim had turned into a fire fight and Lucien couldn’t pretend he wasn’t exhilarated. This was what he lived for, the rush of adrenaline, the orange against an onyx sky, and the knowledge that when he left, he’d made the galaxy a little bit safer. Every day the remnants of the Empire were allowed to inch forward made them bolder. This moment and every one after it was a reminder of what they’d lost and what they still had left to lose. Lucien was all too happy to take it all.

He took down another tie with a loud woop of exuberance just as his nav panel lit up with an incoming call. He glanced down, stomach sinking.

Elain Archeron—incoming transmission.

He swore she must be force sensitive. It was like she could see everything he did, knew every promise he broke without needing to be there. He’d sworn this was merely a routine patrol and here he was, knocking out his fourth tie. Lucien ignored the call with no small amount of guilt, focusing on his quarry.

That last blast sent the remaining ties scurrying back for hyperspace, retreating further into the unknown reaches of the galaxy. Let them rot, he though with satisfaction. They deserved no less than a quiet passing, unmourned and unmissed. Lucien looked back to his nav deck, his droid beeping through his helmet.

Should I call Elain back?

“No, BD,” Lucien replied too quickly. Better to ask forgiveness that permission and better to ask when they were in front of each other. She was less likely to shout if he could kiss her as he begged.

Signaling to his squad it was time to head back, each flyer punched the coordinates to Coruscant’s hyperspace lane. With nothing to do, Lucien thought of what excuse he might offer Elain for today’s skirmish. He hadn’t gone looking for it, but Lucien never backed down from a fight. Elain wouldn’t be thrilled and when it came to his wife, the fearsome senator from Naboo, Lucien knew there was no winning the upcoming fight. His best bet was to grovel and hope she missed him so much she was willing to overlook his reckless flyboybehavior.

It took hours to return and by the time Lucien dropped from hyperspace, he was practically sweating. Beneath him, Coruscant was an innocent ball of light, a planet-wide city that drew only the most enterprising of people. Not just anyone could make it on Coruscant—the city swallowed starry-eyed new comers every day, an exacting price for the possibility of fortune and fame. He wasn’t surprise his wife had taken one step onto the planets carved out surface and forced it to bow—Elain was a force of nature in a gorgeous dress. That she’d ever looked his way at all, a no one from Yavin 4, the son of diplomat and a pilot who had made his way to Coruscant looking for a job. Tired of running spice, tired of the endless grind for credits when what he wanted was to make things better. His mother had fought with the resistance, had shot down star fighters, had put a helmet on his head before he’d ever taken his first step. He considered that his legacy and was proud to serve the galaxy no matter how reckless a reputation he'd made.

That the senator of Naboo, the sister to their elected Queen no less, had ever taken more than one look at him still stunned him. Elain had her pick of the galaxy and settled with a man covered in droid oil more often than not. If he’d been smart, he would have never dared anger her lest she get wise and leave him for someone that wouldn’t risk her wrath.

Lucien had never been accused of being smart.

He docked his ship in the naval yard, his clear cockpit rising overhead. The deafening sounds of the hangar nearly knocked him back to his seat. A lifetime of being right next to explosives had left Lucien a little deaf. Loud sounds tended to sound muffled and yet jarring all at once, activating that same adrenaline he felt during an air fight.

Avoiding the members of his squadron, who’d seen the incoming transmission, Lucien all but ran across the city, helmet tucked up beneath his arm. Elain lived in the heart of Republic City, the section of Coruscant dedicated to politics. His wife would be found on one of the upper most levels on 500 Republica, the nicest building in the city. It belonged to her family and before her, Lucien would never have dreamed of stepping foot in the gilded, golden lobby. A glass lift hurtled him upward, away from smog choked air towards the thinner atmosphere where fresh oxygen was pumped in for only those who could afford it.

Elain was waiting in a silky blue night dress, the pearl strung straps caressing the freckled skin of her shoulders. Golden brown curls cascaded about her shoulders, framing her soft, heart shaped face illuminated in the city’s always illuminated glow. When she saw him, she crossed her arms over her chest, pushing the rounded tops of her breasts upwards.

“You promised,” she murmured when the lift closed behind him, leaving him no where to retreat.

He held up his palms. “I couldn’t let them retreat.” It was an admission of guilt, one he couldn’t help but offer. All his excused flew out the window, utterly breathless of the sight of her standing in a pool of moonlight. “Forgive me,” he pleaded, walking to her until there were only inches between them.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Elain reminded him reproachfully. “And I will be left to mourn you.”

“I’m sure there will be a line around the block, starting at my casket. Men from all over the galaxy will come, hoping for a shot at—” “Don’t.”

Lucien shut his mouth, uneasy and mollified. “I’m sorry. Elain, I love you, but…”

“But you’ll always be a reckless flyboy?” she replied, one brow arched upwards. Lucien couldn’t resist the smile that spread over his face, rubbing his calloused hands over the smooth skin of her arm.

“I think you like that about me,” he teased, catching how hard she worked to suppress her smile. “Admit it, sweetheart.”

“I will never,” she replied with all the stubbornness he’d come to cherish. Lucien hauled her up into his arms, fight forgotten. Elain squealed, feet nearly catching him upside the jaw.

“I suppose I will have to torture it out of you,” he warned, walking her through the living room to the spacious bedroom they shared. Elain gasped for breath, her laughter infectious. By the time he tossed her atop the cream duvet, Lucien’s side’s hurt from walking and laughing, too.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Elain begged when Lucien lowered himself atop her. He settled between her legs, sliding the silky material of her night dress up her thigh.

“I need to tell you something,” Elain gasped, rising up on her elbows. “I know you’re frustrated by my requests you stay out of trouble, but I promise I’m asking for unselfish reasons.” “You can’t stand not having a gorgeous guy like myself around,” Lucien agreed, attempting to push her legs wider so he might lie fully between them. Elain reached for his face, stopping him.

“It’s more than that. Of course I need you. You’re my husband.I love you more than my own life, but Lucien, children also need a father and if you’re reckless, who will raise our son?”

Lucien’s brain emptied out, the only sound a soft ringing that never seemed to quite fade. “Son?”

“Or daughter,” Elain amended, eyes searching his own. “I wanted to be sure before I told you—”

“You’re pregnant?” he asked dumbly, warmth filling his chest. “I’m going to be a father?”

Her apprehension melted, replaced by relief. Had she been afraid of his reaction? Lucien sprung forward, yanking her into his arms before realizing he probably shouldn’t be so rough with her. “Elain, that’s wonderful news.”

“It means you’ll have to cut out your more reckless impulses,” Elain warned, her breath hot against his neck. “I have no intention of raising this child by myself.”

“I can ask for fewer patrols. I can train the new recruits,” he swore with only a tinge of disappointment. Elain caressed his face, sliding until the pair were laying in bed facing the other, her fingertips grazing against his cheek.

“You should still patrol,” he murmured, unaware of the relief her words filled him with. “Just not so often. If you must be reckless, at least remember what’s waiting for you at home.”

“My fearsome wife,” he agreed, kissing her softly. “What size helmet do you think a baby wears?”

She smiled then, thumb tracing his bottom lip. “Already planning the baby’s first mission?”

And it was a joke, of course, but he knew she’d bring the baby onto the senate floor with her. Elain would whisper in their little ear, telling them who could be trusted and who couldn’t and all the little tells she’d learned over the years to determine who lied for their own benefit and who truly cared about the galaxy. Their child would be better versed in political warfare than most adults and if they just so happened to be the greatest pilot the galaxy had ever seen on top of all that, well…

“We should get a little hover craft, so the baby can practice.”

Elain’s smile was so beautiful he was blinded momentarily. He cupped her face, unable to believe this was his life. That she was his life. “I love you so much, you know?”

She kissed him back, her lips heartbreakingly soft. “I know you do.”

He settled his knee between her legs, a new thought dawning on him. “You don’t think the baby can—” “Don’t be stupid, Lucien,” Elain replied with an eye roll.

“It was an honest question,” he insisted, sliding a hand over her still flat stomach. Elain nestled her head against his neck, her soft, vanilla scented curls invading his sense. He shifted, nose nuzzling her own.

“A baby.”

“A baby,” she agreed. “Start thinking about names. Goodnames, Lucien. Not ones your droid suggests.”

His outrage was manufactured. “You insult BB-8, who stayed behind so we could be alone tonight.” “I thought I had too much room at the end of this bed.”

He grinned, still cupping her face. Lips touching her own, he asked, “What did I do to get so lucky?”

“It’s a mystery, flyboy,” she replied, carding her fingers through his ponytailed hair. “Don’t mess it up.”

Lucien yanked the covers over their heads. “Wouldn’t dreamof it.”

[squishneedsahero]

Without Direction

The Lost Padawan Part 1

Word Count: 1842

You were raised in the Jedi order, Padawan of Jedi Master Obiwan Kenobi.

You were breathing heavily, heart beating out of your chest as you could only pray no one noticed. You had no idea what was happening, but the Clones had all turned, suddenly going and killing all of the Jedi in one swoop. Master Kenobi had left you at the temple while he went after general Grievous and that was apparently too dangerous for a Padawan. This of course had you upset and feeling useless, so you had been messing around when everything went down. This messing around had ended up saving your life, why you had access to Clone armor wasn't important, but you deciding at that moment to try it on had saved your life.

Now you were still in the armor, but on a ship going who knows where as you just needed to get away from Coruscant as fast as you could. No one questioned why a Clone was on a passenger ship off world but you could only be grateful that they didn't. You could only stand there, stiff backed and unspeaking as you traveled.

Sooner than expected you land and are able to get off of the ship, quickly getting as far away from anyone from Coruscant as you can, talking someone into giving you some clothes from their stall as you did so. You run off and change before getting out of town.

You fall to the ground as you find somewhere that seems somewhat safe to stop. You pull out your lightsaber and study the hilt as tears form in your eyes. The adrenaline was wearing off and the reality of everything that had happened was setting in. You had lost everyone in a single day. Your Master was gone and dead along with all the other Jedi, the Clones you had thought to be friends weren't, everything was taken from you just like that.

You spend the night on the ground, always somewhere between sleeping and crying as all of you just hurt and you felt lost. You were still only a child, yes you were well enough trained to be a Padawan learner but being executed alongside all the other Jedi for warcrimes you hadn't committed made no sense. It was all you could do to keep yourself from completely falling apart, here you were, the last Jedi alive in the entire galaxy and you were just a lost child.

The next day things look no better,  but you get up anyways, dumping the armor before going back into town. You luckily had a few credits in your pocket so you didn't have to use the force to convince someone to give you food. As you eat you are able to sit down and almost relax a little, unfortunately a transmission of Senator Palpatine from Coruscant begins to play across all the screens in the area.

"Citizens of the civilized galaxy," Palpatine begins, "on this day we mark a transition. For a thousand years, the Republic stood as the crowning achievement of civilized beings. But there were those who would set us against one another, and we took up arms to defend our way of life against the Separatists. In so doing, we never suspected that the greatest threat came from within."

"The Jedi, and some within our own Senate, had conspired to create the shadow of Separatism using one of their own  as the enemy's leader. They had hoped to grind the Republic into ruin. But the hatred in their hearts could not be hidden forever. At last, there came a day when our enemies showed their true natures."

Your heart is in your throat and you can hardly swallow your food as you hear him announce these things. You, y/n l/n, had been at Master Kenobi's side for years and he along with the other Jedi leaders had wanted nothing more than for the war to end. But none of that mattered now, the Jedi were gone, the Jedi Order had been wiped out, and only these blatant lies would succeed in reaching the ears of the public. You get up and walk away, back into the wilderness with your few supplies you had been able to grab, planning to just stay here on Saleucami until things settled enough you could get away unnoticed.

You spend nearly a week of your time traveling through the wilderness until you come to another town large enough to have a space port. The place is crawling with Clones but it was obvious that Palpatine was trying to gather things as quickly as possible to maintain his control over the galaxy, meaning the Clones weren't paying any attention to a random teenager. At this point your face is coated with a layer of dirt, which you don't mind since it adds to hide your identity.

Your first stop is to once again get some food and replenish your supplies as well as find a way to earn a few credits for later. It's as you're looking over a fruit stand that you feel a nudge from the force and two men talking nearby catch your attention. It doesn't take you long to recognize the faces, or face, the one face you had to have seen thousands of variations of, many the same but each with a different person behind it. They were clones.

The thing that had you so focused on them was the fact that they weren't wearing their armor, along with the fact that anytime other clones passed by they hid their faces from view. You try not to stare but you keep an eye on them, something was drawing you to them but you couldn't bring yourself to trust a couple stray clones on the spot like that.

Following them from a distance you are able to see that they are avoiding the other clones and one of the two you feel you recognize. He has a tattoo covering nearly half his face and you know you had fought beside him at one point, not that that meant a whole lot at this point. They stop and you can hear them talking about getting off world, they clearly don't want to be caught and it is as they are leaving town that you decide you can trust them.

You follow from a distance, trying to stay undetected, not sure how to approach them but the force was pulling you to do so. It isn't until you are well out of town that you begin trying to approach them, and it isn't until you get close to them that you realize something is off, they had realized they were being followed.

"Who are you?" The tattooed one asks loudly as they turn to face you, guns drawn.

Your heart is yet again in your throat as you step out into the open, both hands in front of you in an attempt of showing you mean no harm. You don't want to answer their question so you make a statement of your own, "you're clones."

You can see their grips on their guns change and you raise your hands a little higher, "I promise I don't mean any harm- I'm just wondering why you two aren't helping the others," you quickly explain, praying they won't shoot.

"Answer our question and might answer yours."

You take a deep breath, okay you can do this, it's just a matter of trust, and your life. Leaving one hand up in front of you you use the other to remove the hood you were wearing and then reach into the folds of your cloak to take out your lightsaber, holding out the hilt without igniting it, simply showing it to them. "I just need to know why the two of you are different."

The two men are more than a little surprised to see the lightsaber in your hand and share a glance between themselves. The fact that you were willing to show your face and the fact that you were one of the Jedi truly meant that you meant no harm.

Hunter looks at Cut for a moment and in almost a whisper says, "I recognize them, they're a padawan." From there he looks back to you and more loudly says, "come closer and we can talk," seeing as you were nearly a hundred feet away.

You take a breath as you move closer, hoping they wouldn't mind the tight grip you had on your saber, considering that they still had yet to put their guns down. You do a decent job at keeping your emotions down and hidden but the two clones know that you're scared, only a few years older than the children they had waiting for them.

Your eyes are locked on Hunter as you get closer, finally placing him and saying softly, "you're Hunter," you glance at the other but know you haven't a clue who he is, "with clone force 99... right?" you ask gently.

Cut nods and puts his gun away, "don't worry kid you don't have to hold your lightsaber so tight, we aren't going to kill you. And yes this is Hunter," he answers you, recognizing how sacred you really were, "I'm Cut, can I ask who you are?"

Your grip relaxes as he holsters his gun, then nudges Hunter to do the same with his gun. You can't bring yourself to let go of the hilt of your saber but you do at least let it drop to your side in a relaxed position. "I'm y/n l/n, Master Kenobi's padawan learner."

That's when Hunter nods, realizing that was when he recognized you from, he and the others of the bad batch had sometimes reported to Cody, the commander under General Kenobi. "So, why were you following us?"

"I- uh-" you stutter a bit as you try to get your thoughts together. You pause another beat before deciding to just share why it was you had followed them, "all of the clones turned against the Jedi and exterminated them, I lost everyone I knew and the two of you are different, you didn't kill me on sight... you were hiding from the other clones... like I am."

Thats when things begin to click for Hunter, while he had lost a close friend he still had the others. You on the other hand had lost everything and everyone, having nothing but a lightsaber and to be killed if recognized. "Okay kid, we aren't sure why the others turned but we are trying to figure it out. We're getting Cut and his family off this planet, then leaving ourselves."

Cut looks at Hunter for a moment then says, "you're welcome to come back to my family's farm with us, take a moment to relax, I'm sure you're tired."

You look at the two, and it's a moment before you accept the offer. There was still hesitation and fear running through your veins, but you had survived a war, you had grown up on the battle field, you could survive this too.

[itstimetotheorize]

The bizarre mystery of the Little Nightmares 2  episode 2 comic

For those of you who are unaware, a few weeks before the little nightmares 2 game was released, the developers had announced that they would be releasing a new 6 part digital comic series. From what we were told, this comic series would update two “episodes”  every two weeks until the games eventual release.

of the many episodes that were seen, the most popular of the six  were the first and last, episode 1 and 6. Naturally, these two episodes gained an enormous amount of popularity due to our main protagonists mono and six being the main focus. However, aside from these two episodes, the other four presented an entirely different character. The four kids seen in these episodes were, the spoon girl, lollipop kid, ghost child and The toddler. 

At first, many fans had assumed the digital comics were created in order to help explain events that had occurred before mono met six in the little nightmares 2 game, in other words, many of us had believed that these comics were classified as prequel material for the events of the game....or at least....that's what we thought....

A few months after the games release, theorist such as myself began to work day and night trying to figure out every little detail  within the game in order to make sense of what the heck was actually going on in the little nightmares world, especially after “that” ending. In the midst of writing my own theories as well as reading and analyzing everyone elses, I began to notice that not many people had gone back to the little nightmares 2 digital comics in order to try and analyze details we might have missed.

Now, out of all of the things we saw and analyzed within the digital comics, there was always two little details that made many of us question the events of the comics, but for the longest time we never really bothered to think about it to much, because at that time...it seemed as though the answer was obvious, what am I talking about exactly? well, I’m talking about something that happened in the little nightmares 2 episode 2 comic. 

In episode 2, we once again watch another new child called “the toddler”  trying to survive within the little nightmares world. Near the end of the episode, the toddler wakes up from a horrific dream where he is killed in the very hole he is resting in. Frightened, he takes no chances and immediately leaves. As the boy marches on, he suddenly hears the terrifying screams of another child nearby. 

Curious, the boy follows the direction of the scream and comes across an old outhouse with a tv next to it, the tv suddenly turns on and the boy immediately becomes entranced by the televisions light.  Sadly, as he continues to stare at the tv, the thin man reaches out from the other side and all that is heard of the child are his frightened screams. 

As the panel draws away from the tv its revealed to us that the thin man had kidnaped the toddler and dragged him into the television.

When first seeing this episode, many believed it was the developers way of telling us that the thin man had spent much of his time kidnapping various kids around the world. Because of this belief, many of us had theorized that despite being locked up in the tower, within the pale city, the thin man was still fully capable of leaving, after all, we theorized that its was his main goal to search for mono and six. HOWEVER, upon reading episode 2, I couldn't help but feel that something was off and I’m sure there were a few others who felt the same. What exactly felt so off about this episode? well, for starters, this may sound strange but...something about that scream the toddler heard in the forest... didn't make sense.

And I know what you are thinking, “ well that was obviously just a kid screaming in horror as he/she was being taken by the thin man”, yes, I understand that.... but......as  I heard that scream over and over again, I couldn't help but feel it sounded like it was almost....”non human”

when the toddler was kidnapped by the thin man and he lets out his own screams of terror, I, as well as other, did not question it, because it genuinely did sound like a child screaming out in horror....so then... why didn't the other scream sound just the same to us?....unless....what if there was something else going on with that other child?...but what? the comics were short and did not present much information to the audience. In hopes of coming up with a breakthrough I decided to once again go back to the little nightmares 2 game and wait to see if some of the events within the game would help.

 As I watched the tower chapter of the game, for what feels like an infinite amount of times, I began to realize something....something so horrific that it could possibly once again topple every theory I had about the little nightmare's world and lead me and many other back to the theory board in order to make sense of EVERYTHING all over again!.... what exactly was so shocking? well.....the screams heard by the toddler in chapter 2....the very screams we believed at the time were just the cries of another terrified child within the little nightmares world....were NEVER the screams of someone we didn’t know!....whos were they exactly?...well.... they were the screams of MONSTER SIX!!!

But what on earth could this possibly mean???!!! Monster six was the final fight within the game, when mono faced her, he had already killed the thin man after being relentlessly chased by him....but if this is true then why was the thin man shown to be alive within episode two of the comics?!....unless.... What if episode two didn't take place before the events of the game...what if...it took place after mono freed the thin man in the game!! 

Perhaps this could explain why the toddler never encountered the hunter in the forest or near the outhouse, the hunter could very well have been already shot by the time the toddler was traveling through!.....but even if this is true, it still doesn't explain why we heard monster sixes scream in the episode or why thin man made an appearance in the forest rather than stay in the pale city were mono was located ...unless... what if something else was going on?

In the game, after the thin man captures six, six is later seen crying out for mono to help her escape the television.

unfortunately, once mono does free her from the tv, the thin man reaches his hand out and kidnaps six once again!

 As many of you may already know... this is the last time we see normal six.  As the thin man once again begins to pursue mono, mono manages to outrun the thin man on the trains by separating the railcars, 

after this moment however, we don't see the thin man again until after mono exits the manhole cover. The thing that doesn't make sense about this whole situation is... why didn't the thin man just reappear in the same area mono crashed the train?

 The thin man clearly has the ability to teleport to different parts of the pale city without the need of the tvs, after all, we even saw him appear in front of mono after he exited the manhole cover near the end of the game.

 So then, why didn't he do the same thing back when mono crashed the train? what was he really doing in that time? and most importantly...where did he go?!...perhaps we were already given an answer to his whereabouts, long before the game was ever released...

What if after realizing he couldn't catch up to mono on the train, the thin man made the decision to search elsewhere. In the midst of his search, did the thin man decide to go back into the television? expecting mono to walk past another screen so he could better find him? just like how he did every other time in the game?

What if the thin man did sense the presence of a child coming near another television...if he did, then what if the child he found on the other end of that television screen.... was never mono...it was the toddler! 

But if this is what happened to thin man during his brief absence, then what exactly happened to six during all of this?....perhaps we were also given an answer to that  as well.

Many of us had theorized that after thin man captured six, six had begun to feel the effects of the towers hypnotic  transmission as she was dragged through the television screen. After she was taken by thin man a second time and thrown back into the towers hypnotic light, the tower could have very well begun the process of turning her into monster six! and judging by how twisted her limbs are near the end of the game, its possible that the process of being distorted caused six to scream out in horrible pain! in the midst of her transformation, her screams could have echoed throughout the tower (just like her music box did ) and was heard by all those that were near a television, including the toddler!

Mono may not have heard her painful screams because he was already to far away from any tv at the time. The only thing he did find of six, after she became lost in the towers transmission during her time in the tower, was the one piece of her that was still desperately trying to cling onto the cruel reality it was fading from, shadow six!

Regardless of what is actually going on, this does beg the question, if episode 2 of the little nightmares 2 digital comics were to really take place in the middle of monos confrontation with the thin man and not before the events of the game, then what about the rest of the episodes of the comics? do they really all take place before the events of the game or is the timeline of the comics just as scattered as our speculations towards how the loop of the game and the little nightmares world is occurring?...honestly....whos to say....until we get some more information towards the lore of this world, everything’s still just a theory, a little nightmares 2 theory!

[13atoms]

Grit (Javier Peña x F!Agent!Reader)

This is my first time writing for Narcos, but I really liked Peña as a character, so here we are. I might do a second part of this, let me know what you think!

Friends-to-lovers, set during s2, no smut but canon-typical nsfw. [4.9k]

*

You sighed, then coughed out a delirious laugh, as the news crackled through Murphy’s radio.

It had been yet another trap, yet another informant you couldn’t trust, yet another victory for Escobar. You, Murphy and Peña were sat in a tense little circle, huddled around Javi’s messy desk. The evening had lasted forever, a whole carton of smokes crumbled into the ash tray, each of you nursing headaches from clenched jaws, palms sweaty, tired of the endless threats from Steve to go and join the agents in the field.

Each stutter of noise on the radio had signalled a new round of tense glances between the three of you, notes scribbled down, short fingernails carving half-moon into palms.

Then, it was over. No fatalities on any side seemed a small miracle, but you knew Javi took no pleasure in hearing that the enemy hadn’t lost anyone either. Shot and bleeding and bruised, every bastard who had walked into that fight managed to scramble away. The transmission from the scene finished curtly, and you felt the three of you deflate.

“Fuck,” Peña muttered.

Murphy slamming his closed fists onto the desk painfully hard.

You exhaled, reeling from the whole evening, stretching back in your chair and wondering what the hell this meant for tomorrow.

“Again,” you sighed, hearing the other agents grunt in shared frustration.

Leaning forward you perched your elbows on the desk, throwing your notes away from you in disgust, letting your head fall into your hands. Your eyes ached, your very bones feeling unimaginably fragile as your muscles untensed and your heart fought to restore calm to your body. It was no good. Adrenaline like this would last hours.

Murphy grabbed his gun from the desk, kicked his chair away as he stood, storming from the room. When you looked up to Javier, worried about what the stupid bastard might do, he just rolled his eyes.

You had a sneaking suspicion that the three of you would be spending your pay checks on whiskey that night.

“Fucking hell,” you declared, more to fill the silence than anything else.

Peña gave a strange little laugh, shaking his head. He copied you, elbows on the table, letting his forehead fall heavily to his palms with the weary exhaustion which had plagued all of you since you first heard the name Escobar.

“What a shit show.”

You nodded in agreement, aching eyes closed. Each blink felt like it would scratch, the darkness of the office only broken by the shitty fluorescent light which created a tiny island of life around Peña’s desk. Everyone else was on the raid, or at home.

Sensible.

“We have to get him. One day. That bastard can’t run forever.”

Peña’s hum of agreement had no conviction, it was as uncertain as you felt, but you liked to imagine he really believed you.

You could feel your body giving up on you, so deprived of everything human for so long in pursuit of a man who always managed to escape back into the shadows. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, the muggy heat parched your lips, your head ached from the smokiness of the room and the sleep which evaded you more and more these days. Your skin felt dirty, no matter how often you washed, stained with guilt and the rivers of blood which ran through Bogotá. It didn’t matter how often Peña told you it wasn’t your fault: you knew your guilt, your sense of inadequacy, would weigh on you for as long as the Cartel was alive and operational.

He felt it too, the hypocrite.

The hunt had drained everything from you. Every ounce of softness and humanity. How long had it been since you were hugged? Since you knew a peaceful night’s sleep or a kind touch? Since you entered a room without imagining the ceiling joists falling under the force of a car bomb? You had slept with a gun nearby since you had joined the DEA here, thinking yourself paranoid. Now, you slept with the damn thing loaded.

“I had such a good feeling about this one,” Peña mused, more to himself than anyone else. You knew he would go home tonight filled with guilt.

Maybe he would take it out on some poor sex worker, fuck away his guilt and fear and frustration.

Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would call you, pretend the phone lines weren’t monitored as the two of you spoke in vague terms. Unable to discuss work on an unsecured line, desperate to hear something real from another human being, exchanging snippets of your shaking voices until one of you finally managed to find sleep.

With nothing else to discuss, the two of you would talk about yourselves.

You never knew how much was true. How much was omitted. You lied sometimes, out of instinct more than anything, and you knew Javi did too. People like you always did. Beneath it all, though, you got the strange sense that you were really hearing something honest about him.

In the deep grumble of his voice, his landline phone cord stretched to his bed as he took the distraction as a chance to drift off, you would hear something real about him. A story from his youth, some reminder that he was real and mortal, a complaint about an injury that wouldn’t heal, some grievance with a dry cleaner. Even the scratch of his stubble as he ran a hand over it sounded like a confession. A reminder you both had beating hearts.

Every word you exchanged, hitched breaths, waiting for reactions or hums down the phone to tell one another you were smiling.

That felt real.

You blinked, wincing at the horrid overhead lights, which seemed to flicker periodically, only when it would really piss you off. Javi was looking at you with concern, the deep lines of his forehead contorted over a raised eyebrow. His badge was in one hand – he’d been fidgeting with it for hours – but his over hand was extended towards you. Palm up, like he was offering it to you.

When you met his eyes you saw worry, mixed with sheer exhaustion, and tried to offer a weak smile.

Someone was moving in a corridor outside, and he waited for their steps to grow quiet until he spoke.

“Are you okay?”

He didn’t need an answer. The weak smile you offered felt like enough to make you cry, and he closed his open fist, nodded his head in understanding.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

He shared the same burden, the same burnout, pulling him to the ground with ten times the force of gravity, yet refusing to let him take a break in pursuit of these bastards.

“Go home,” he offered sincerely, raising that awkwardly hovering hand to clap onto your shoulder.

You closed your eyes. There was nowhere you wanted to be more than your own bed, but as you devoted a second to thinking about getting home, your body felt impossibly heavy.

“I’m exhausted,” you admitted, hoping Javi didn’t notice the tremble in your voice.

“You look it,” he agreed.

With a raised eyebrow and half-hearted glare you had him scrambling to apologise.

“I- I mean, you look lovely, doll. Always do. Just, shattered. I can barely see it –”

When you laughed, he realised you’d been joking, letting his head fall onto the desk braced by his exposed forearms. You glanced at the clock, realising it was gone midnight. None of you would be in the next day. You’d already gotten the time off, knowing the raid would run late.

They usually did.

Especially lately, everything the DEA did seemed to become an unmitigated disaster.

“Give me a minute, ‘til I can be bothered to walk to my car,” you mumbled, knowing Javi would understand your words.

You admired the mussed up back of his hair, looking worse-for-wear after a day of being tousled and pulled at by his twitchy hands. You wanted to fix the piece which was sticking straight up, but your arms felt too heavy to move.

Adrenaline was a funny thing. It left you jittery, pent-up, and yet completely stationary.

It would be fine once you moved, you knew. You’d forced your body through this gruelling pattern often enough.

You rolled your neck, moaning at the tightness in the muscles, and Javi looked up with that damn cheeky grin. He should be exhausted, but there he was, eyebrows raised, eyes gleaming with mischief. You groaned at him. That man could find an innuendo anywhere.

About to look away, you forced yourself to meet his challenge instead.

“I’m starting to see why you go to those fuckin’ brothels,” you drawled. “You think I could convince them to give me a neck rub?”

“I’m sure they’ll rub anything you want, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as one hand remained on the back of your neck, the muscle rock solid from hours in this stupid metal chair. He stretched out his closed fists and stood wordlessly, taking his place behind your chair like it was the most natural thing in the world. You were about to say something when he commandingly rolled your head forwards, tugging your collar down. When his warm hands found your neck, you gave him a rumbling, contented moan far better than the one which had piqued his interest.

For just a second you felt the slow movements on your neck halt, before he continued to clumsily kneed at the muscle either side of your spine. It hurt, his strong hands against all those tender spots, but it was the best kind of ache.

His hands grew gentler, rubbing softly for a moment, before he spoke.

“Better?” he grunted, and you found yourself scanning the room for something reflective, disappointed that you couldn’t drink in the image of Javier behind you.

“Better,” you choked out, your voice unnatural as you felt the closeness of his touch affecting you.

It had just been too long, you told yourself.

Fuck, you wanted him to do that to the rest of your back. Your limbs. Those strong hands learning your body. And more, if he wanted it.

He cleared his throat and stepped away, and you rolled your shoulders, starting to collect your notes and belongings to leave. Javi slipped his jacket on, adjusting the collar and shaking the arms into place, and you fought not to watch.

“That’ll save you some money from the ladies of the night,” he teased, his tone just a little flatter than it ought to be.

You knew him well enough to sense awkwardness in that rough voice.

“Who said anything about ladies?” you shot back. “Are there male prostitutes? Must be.”

Javi seemed a little shaken, less steady on his feet as he took a second attempt to kick his chair under his desk. He was squaring up papers and stationary as if that was all it would take to tidy the mess around his typewriter, refusing to meet your eyes.

“I haven’t met any,” he ground out, “so I’m not sure I can help you there.”

“And I thought you were a connoisseur.”

You were a little taken aback when he didn’t laugh, and the playful smile fell from your lips. You hadn’t realised how much you were waiting for his deep chuckle, his silence forming a strange missing link in your conversation. Looking up at him, you found him staring at your shoes.

“I’m just teasing, Javi,” you started to apologise.

“No, no. No worries.”

He cleared his throat, playing with the notebook, badge, and keys in his grasp. Passing them from hand to hand. He walked abruptly to the door, toeing it open with his shoe, one hand on the light switch as he waited for you. As you joined him, he looked down, that handsome face distorted with a slight frown.

Frowning seemed to come a little to easily to his features these days.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he rumbled, and you nodded gratefully.

He locked up behind you, and you felt a pang of guilt for ruining a perfectly good moment. You could still feel the phantom touch of his hands on your neck, the callouses of his fingers, experienced with women and yet inexperienced in such gentle touches.

The two of you strode down the dark corridors, and you wondered if he’d always walked that far away from you. He was walking a few feet ahead, and it felt like miles.

“I really didn’t mean anything by it,” you apologised, mumbling in the hopes he might not reply.

“No, I… I’m not upset. It’s fine. I’m just tired.”

You hummed, knowing he could sense your dissatisfaction with his answer. You were too dazed to find the right words.

As you stepped out into the muggy evening air, blinking against the flood lights, both of you froze. There was some commotion in the parking lot. Someone in plainclothes detained by a guard and another man dead on the ground, riddled with bullet holes. You weren’t sure why, but even after all the violence you saw every day, the puddle of blood around him made you clench your jaw with disgust.

Peña stepped in front of you defensively. He usually treated you as just another officer, but off-duty his protectiveness always seemed to kick in. Tonight, you felt your heart clench in gratefulness, as he approached the scene carefully, fingers on his holster. You were too exhausted to keep up with the rapid conversation between Javier and the guards, only tearing your gaze from the dead stare of the body on the ground when Peña called your name. A third time. He waved a hand in front of your face, and you blinked rapidly, apologising as you focused back in on the moment.

You expected the off-white flash of his teeth, laughing at your slowness, some snarky comment about seeming slow, doll. His solemn frown, his concern, was more startling than the flash of his palm in front of your face.

“That’s it,” he told you gruffly, one hand wrapped lightly around your bicep, “I’m driving you home.”

You laughed, half in surprise, and he smiled wearily.

“You’re exhausted.”

Ignoring his comment, you frowned, words tumbling from your mouth before you could stop them.

“Can you call me? Tonight?”

You knew it was pathetic. You sounded pathetic. You knew that.

He went to reply, and you found yourself unable to stop speaking to hear the answer.

“I just… I don’t know how I’ll sleep. I think… I want to hear your voice,” you stumbled.

Javier sighed, smiled slightly, gave a surprisingly bashful nod of his head.

“I’ll call.”

The two of you climbed into his car in silence, and you kept your focus on the moving dials of the dashboard as Javi crawled past the crime scene, joining traffic. The radio hummed quietly, indistinguishable from the noise outside, and you rest your head on the edge of the seat. As Javier drove you through the city streets you felt your energy return, as you knew it would. It always happened like this. You would be too exhausted to leave, be tempted to make a camp on the cool concrete floor of the office. Then, as soon as you were almost at your own front door, you would have the energy to run laps of the block.

You watched out the window, catching reflected glimpses of the flex of Javier’s forearms as he shifted gear, the columns of his neck as he shouted to other drivers, and deft way he handled the steering wheel.

Flashes of red and pink lights made you smile slightly as the car crawled through traffic. It wasn’t a part of town you’d visited outside of work, but you recognised the streets. Javi rolled down the window as you passed brothels, the darkness punctuated by flashes of beautiful women who cooed at Javi from their doorways. You refused to let yourself wonder how many he knew by name.

Then you wondered why you cared.

“Don’t want me to drop you off?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

You wondered if Javi had really taken this longer route on purpose, just to make a joke. From the smile on his face, you would believe it. He looked pleased with himself as you gave a groan, trying to hide your amusement.

“Any of them your type?” he goaded again, gesturing out the window, chewing his words.

You shifted in your seat, sitting up properly, blinking back a headrush as everything suddenly felt real again.

“None of them look much like John Travolta,” you noted, smiling as yet another gaggle of women gave the car flirty waves.

A few called out male names, fakes names you presumed, and you saw the man beside you wince. You waved back, smiling. Javier groaned, thumping his thumb against the leather of the steering wheel.

“Travolta? Really?”

You laughed, the lightest you’d felt all day, at the grimace on Peña’s face.

“Yes, Travolta! I’d totally pay a Travolta look alike. You got a problem with that?”

“He’s too soft. No grit.”

“He seems nice!”

Truthfully, there wasn’t much time for films out here. Even less American celebrity gossip. But you remembered him being very popular before you left.

“You could pick up a Travolta look-alike at any bar in this damn city, they’d be falling over themselves. You certainly wouldn’t need to pay them.”

You gave a private smile at the hypocrisy in his voice, as he scoffed over the idea of paying someone for sex. As if he was short on women who found him attractive.

“Yes, but unlike any old bloke in a bar, if I paid they couldn’t fall asleep on me after two minutes.”

Even as the traffic picked up speed, Javi rubbed a hand over his face in frustration, groaning yet again.

“That’s fuckin’ depressing.”

You could hear the unsaid pet name on his tongue, a strange stutter to the rhythm of his sentences, and you wondered why he held it back. The drawl of doll or sugar when he spoke to you was as natural as breathing at this point.

“Yeah.”

The red lights of brothels were far behind you now, and yet Javi was still driving the wrong way, taking a longer route to your place. You bit your lip, looking straight ahead and wondering why he was stalling taking you home.

Hoping you knew the reason.

Javier suddenly shouted, clutched the steering wheel as a car full of young guys cut him off, one hand reaching out like a safety harness across your chest as he slammed the brakes on. As soon as his arm was there, inches from your chest, it was gone again. He was changing gear and honking his horn and swearing under his breath, and you were trying to process the tight feeling in the pit of your stomach. He apologised as he swung the steering wheel, taking a side street to avoid the car ahead, wary of the guns and middle fingers waved from the windows by young men still convinced they were invincible under the cover of night.

You exhaled shakily, blinking away sleepiness as you tried to process what had happened, frustrated at yourself for your slowness.

He seemed to remember himself as the car crawled past sleeping houses, the headlights sweeping across cobblestone, finally in the direction of your place.

“Sorry, darling,” he muttered, fingers tapping on the wheel irately.

“No problem. Can’t be careful enough, at the moment.”

He hummed and nodded, gave you a quiet sideways glance before training his eyes on the road again. One hand rested on the gear shift, curved around so his wrist brushed your thigh as you uncrossed and crossed your legs. He glanced towards you again, something so inconspicuous you hardly recognised it, and you wondered if he knew you were trying not to stare.

The brakes complained under Peña’s foot as he finally rolled to a stop outside your building, the night as quiet as Bogotá ever got. There were a few lights on in your block, the faint shouts of an arguing couple muffled as they drifted on the late night air, a baby crying, faint sirens. All reminders that you were yet to settle this torn city.

Javier cleared his throat and reached for the handbrake, cutting the engine but leaving one hand on the ignition. No doubt it was one of those habits which had saved his life once, and then he could never drop it. You felt the slight movement of the car as his foot finally left the brake, and you smiled privately at how overly cautious he was, ready for anything to go wrong.

He shook slightly at the gear shift, checking it was in neutral.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, if you want. To get your car. Or the next time you need to be in the office. Whenever you need me, doll. Just be safe.”

He swiped at his moustache nonchalantly as he spoke then reached for a cigarette, leaving it between his lips unlit. He pulled a lighter from his pocket one handed, poised to light it as you spoke.

“Thanks, Javi. I really appreciate it, you’re too good to me.”

He froze up, before slowly moving the lighter to the centre console of the car, dropping it into the tray there with a clatter.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he grumbled around the cigarette, but you smiled anyway.

Seeing his prickly exterior come out only meant he was protecting himself from being vulnerable. He looked up at your building, ducking to survey the height of it. You knew it was rougher than where he and Murphy had ended up, but you liked the community of it.

“We gotta get you moved closer to us,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head for show, and you huffed out a laugh.

“I’m fine, Javi. Thank you for the lift.”

As you reached for the door handle he seemed to startle, the bubble of calm inside the car burst as a rush of hot air and noise swarmed through the open door.

“I’ll walk you in,” he declared, stashing his gun beneath his jacket and pulling the keys from the ignition.

“It’s fine, please, you can call me tonight,” you insisted, your feet finally hitting the ground as you got out of the passenger seat.

When you looked back into the vehicle for a gentle goodbye, you were surprised to see something sad on his face. Something disappointed, lonely, enough to make your heart clench.

“Unless you want to come in?”

He was beside you in an instant, the car needlessly loud in the click as Javi twisted his keys in the door to lock it.

“You’ve had a long day,” he reminded you, one hand hovering insistently behind your lower back, refusing to touch or grow further from you as you approached the entrance to your building.

It felt like forever ago, the failed raid, the violence at your office, the feeling of being fused to that bruising-hard metal chair as your heart raced in time with the static of the radio. The memory of Javi’s hands on you had finally vanished for just a second, until he brought it right back.

“You have too, Javi,” you muttered, looking away as you found your key.

“I’ll sleep like a baby tonight,” he grumbled, feet heavy on the stairwell as you ascended to the second story of the building.

“No other plans?”

Your question was supposed to be light-hearted, both of you breathing more heavily as you reached the threshold to your apartment. Key in the lock, you turned to see Javi leaning against the wall as casually as if he belonged there.

“None,” he whispered, “I’m here as long as you need me.”

Who said I needed you?

His arms were folded, fists clenched, and you wondered if he was stopping himself from reaching out.

He followed you inside quickly, taking the liberty of sliding over every lock on the door before you had the chance to. You could see him mentally sweeping the room, craning his neck to look for anything which might make his instincts rear up. You crossed to the small kitchen counter, dumping everything you were carrying down, as he gently paced the small space. He stuck his head into the bedroom, the bathroom, just checking.

Somewhere deep down, you knew why.

He would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

“Drink?”

Peña nodded, and you stepped back to let him raid the fridge himself, needing no permission. He’d been here enough times, though you couldn’t remember a time without Murphy. It was a different feeling, just the two of you. Calmer. Safer. You couldn’t meet his eyes as you moved around to switch on a couple of side lights. You knew you should eat, but you couldn’t walk back to the kitchen. Not while Peña was there.

The shouting had stopped, the baby had silenced, and yet you knew you wouldn’t sleep if you went to bed now.

Not a chance in hell.

You wondered if that was what Javier was doing too: distracting himself from the thoughts which would find him in sleep. By eating everything in your kitchen, apparently.

“I should cook for you, sometime,” he called, though his voice was quieter than you’d expected. Closer.

“You any good?” you teased, straightening up a stack of papers which would immediately slump into a mess again.

“Not really.”

You laughed a little, hearing his matching chuckle behind you. As you turned you found yourself suddenly between his arms, so close you could see the irritated red threatening the whites of his eyes. You wanted to stroke a thumb across those lines in the furrow of his brow, force him to relax until he turned back into the bright-eyed man you’d once known, who relished wasting government money on the finer things in life, and cheered like he’d won a star player when you were assigned to his team.

It seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet here he was, still in front of you. The same man, beneath the exhaustion and the things he’d seen since starting this damn job. As you were examining the lines of his face, the dark circles which never quite managed to overshadow the beauty of his dark eyes, he was staring at you.

He gave you warning, time to move away or speak or – something. He told you what he wanted with heavy eyelids and a light grip on your jaw, in the slight shuffle of his body closer to yours. Then he kissed you, like it had always made sense. It didn’t feel like the first time, he felt familiar. The slight tickle of facial hair against your face, the tensing of his fingers, seeming to engulf your whole skull and guiding you to lean into him as he groaned into your mouth.

The sound of your lips separating made your eyes open, staring wide at Javier like he was a new man. His grip on your face slipped to hands resting on your shoulders as he watched you, waiting for a reaction, bottom lip between his teeth as he bit down a grin.

You smiled openly, only able to look at his face, and he matched you with a laugh. He pulled you with him as he walked backwards, dragging you on top of him as he sat on your couch, muffling your apologies with a kiss as you fell heavily onto his lap.

The couch creaked beneath him as your mouths met heavily, but if Peña had even felt the weight of you, he didn’t flinch. He was kissing you like the world was ending, like he had seconds before the two of you would be gone forever, and he was determined not to miss a second against your skin.

It had felt like that, you supposed. That you would be ripped from one another too soon. Countless times together you had been seconds from death, an inch from bleeding out, hours from being blown up. It could all end soon, the two of you swallowed in flames or a shower of bullets. Perhaps he was making up for each and every time you had called for one another across a soon-to-be crime scene, desperately glad to see each other unharmed.

Peña’s hand on your waist grounded you, dragged you back into the moment, and you poured everything you had into kissing him so hard his lips would be reddened for days. You wouldn’t apologise for the roughness of it – he was determined to bruise you in response, sharing the kind of desperation which couldn’t be expressed in any other way.

Finally his second hand found your waist, gently prompting you to sit up in your straddle across his lap, staring at this new glassy-eyed, wild expression he wore.

“I’m no Travolta,” he panted, the words ghosting across you face.

You sighed. No living that one down.

“He’s not got enough grit for me anyway,” you promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the aquiline slope of his nose, before strong hands guided your lips straight back to his.