#chosen is on the verge of a panic attack at any given moment i think

[i3utterflyeffect]

more human sticks ✌️

alan sometimes tries to resolve disputes between the CG and Chosen i think (such as all the snacks Mysteriously Disappearing while everyone in the CG insists they didn't take them all) but I don't think he'd be a huge fan of trying to negotiate with Chosen; which is partially due to them getting a little violent when he tries to get them to stop doing something but moreso due to him still feeling terrible about everything still

[nobodyfamousposts]

Mominette: Changes

Conner got a message from Marinette.

As soon as he saw the words "Something happened", he didn’t even wait for the rest.

He immediately got to Paris and burst into the Bakery. Tom and Sabine looked confused and worried, but let him go upstairs to where Mari and Adrien were.

The normal thrum of his siblings was weak, almost muted.

He rushed up to Marinette’s room, his mind racing the entire way. Was everyone safe? Are they okay? What happened?

He burst into the room.

He saw Marinette and Adrien. They're fine, but worried and Marinette looked almost on the verge of a panic attack. Adrien was comforting Marinette and getting her to breathe.

He saw Plagg and Tikki. They're fine. But similarly looked worried.

He glanced around again, growing more agitated.

He seaw Adrien and Mari. He seaw Plagg and Tikki. He did not see his siblings.

He was about to ask—more like demand what happened.

But was interrupted by a voice he’d never heard before.

"Conny?"

He turned to the chaise where there are three children wrapped in a blanket.

Three human children.

He could barely feel it, but the magic was still there, in them.

“What…happened?” He asked the duo. Because this was definitely not normal.

“It’s an akuma.” Adrien explained, being the calmer of the two at the moment. “She has the power to bring toys to life, but…they’re already alive.” He shrugged, helplessly.

“My magic inside of them mixed with the akuma’s.” Marinette said, looking extremely worried. “If we defeat the akuma and return everything to normal, who knows what will happen to them?”

Tikki nuzzled Marinette, mournfully. “I’m sorry, Marinette. This has never happened before.”

Conner’s attention had turned back to the three. All of whom somehow looked smaller despite being bigger than before.

The boy—blond hair and green eyed—Chaton—reached out a hand for him. And Conner couldn’t stop himself from reaching back in turn.

The boy smiled.

“Conny.”

The girls—one with dark blue hair, the other fully black—Littlebug and Minimouse—looked up at him. One curled in on herself and shivered. The other moved the blanket and patted the chaise, a clear invitation for him to join them.

He…really wanted to.

They look all of four years old. Bigger than they had been as dolls, but oh so much more fragile. Chaton’s hand in his own was so tiny and he couldn’t help but worry he would hurt him.

“M’cold.” Minimouse murmured, shivering.

And that pretty much settled it.

Within seconds, Conner was sitting on the chaise with all three siblings wrapped up in the blanket and curled into him.

“I’ll watch them.” He assured his parents.

The two paused, looking back to him in concern.

“Conner…”

“You both need to defeat the akuma, right? I’ll protect them.” He promised. And he meant it.

“It may help.” Plagg rationalized. “He’s got your magic, Spots.”

“Plagg?”

“There’s conflicting magic in your kids right now.” He explained. “The longer it stays, the more trouble it can cause. So the sooner you take out the akuma, the better. And he can keep them stable in the meantime.”

“But…what about after?” Marinette asked, still very much worried.

Tikki hung her head. “Plagg’s right. We won’t know until it’s over. But it would be best to resolve this quickly.”

Marinette looked over to her children, biting her lip in worry.

Conner nodded to her. “I’ll keep them safe.”

Adrien rested a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s…let’s be quick.”

Both of them were clearly holding back tears as they kissed each of their kids on the head just in case. With whispered words, they transformed and were gone, leaving Conner alone with his siblings.

Conner did have magic from Marinette. It was weak due to the conflict with his Kryptonian DNA, but it was there. It was the link that let him bond with his family. It allowed him to sense where they were and how they were doing. And now, it let him help with the maelstrom inside the three tiny bodies clutching to him.

But there was only so much he could do. Due to his limited magic and limited experience in using it, he was only able to mostly serve as a rock to try and keep the three grounded.

“Conny…hurts…”

Perhaps for the first time, he actually cursed his Kryptonian side.

“I know.” He said softly, trying to soothe them.

All he could do was try to hold them together while waiting for the akuma to be defeated and hope that there would still be four of them when Ladybug and Chat Noir returned.

“It’ll be okay.”

__________________________

By the time the akuma was defeated, the three had passed out and Conner was exhausted. He barely responded to the two thuds on the balcony above them or the sound of the door springing open.

“Conner?! CONNER!”

“Mom…?”

She knelt in front of him, tired and worried. He didn’t like that expression. He wanted to reassure her, but apparently he didn’t feel any better than she looked.

“Hey!”

Oops. Sorry, Mom.

“Marinette. You need to cast the Cure.” Dad told her, firmly.

“But…what if…?”

“Don’t overthink it.” He said, taking her hand in his and resting his forehead against her own. “Trust your magic.”

“You c’n do it, Mom.” Conner whispered.

She clenched her eyes shut, but nodded.

Would there be any permanent effect of this?

Would they go back to being normal non-magical dolls?

Would they be okay?

Please…please let them be okay.

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

The Cure swept through the room and then throughout Paris. But all three only had eyes for the children and the effect the Cure would have.

Conner felt rejuvenated by the effects of the loveliness. His energy and focus restored, he looked down to the three children clinging to him.

To find three still very human children clinging to him. Asleep. But oh so alive.

“They’re alive.” Conner reported, awed.

“They’re…but they’re human?” Adrien asked in astonishment. He separated from Plagg before moving forward and touching Chaton, ruffling his hair—and yeah, that was real, all right. He looked up to Plagg and Tikki as she also reformed. “They’re just…they’re human now?”

Marinette gaped. “But how? I mean—is this okay? Are they okay? Did it not work?” She was almost on the verge of panicking again.

Minimouse didn’t like the noise, apparently, as she frowned in discomfort and curled more into Conner’s side. Conner placed a hand on her head, soothing her.

Tikki floated down to her as well and kissed her head for a moment. She appeared to be sensing something—analyzing, maybe? A minute passed before she parted from Minimouse and looked up at the three.

“It’s settled. The akuma’s magic is gone.”

“But…why are they like this then?!” Marinette asked.

“The Cure restored everything to how it should be.” Tikki explained.

“Shouldn’t they be dolls then?” Adrien asked. “Not that I’m complaining.” Because he certainly preferred his kids alive regardless. But this was…a surprise to say the least.

Tikki nodded to her chosen. “Conner received magic from you, Marinette. But as a result of the process made to make him, his magic is naturally rooted in stability and grounding.”

Conner blinked in surprise at that. “Is that how I’m able to have Kryptonian powers and magic?”

“In a way, yes. Your magic has focus in boosting your abilities and stabilization. When you used it to deal with the warring magic in your siblings, you did help stabilize them, but you…um…apparently convinced them that this is how they should be.”

Conner’s eyes widened. He looked up at the gaping Marinette and Adrien in shock. As well as growing horror as the full extent of what he’d seemingly done hit him.

“I…I didn’t mean to.”

Well, he did, apparently. But he didn’t know this would happen. He hadn’t meant to change them—or keep them changed. He’d just…wanted to anchor them. To keep them alive and safe. He hadn’t wanted to force anything on them.

In an instant, arms enveloped him and he was in the comforting and reassuring hold of his mother.

“You did everything you could for them and more.”

He felt his eyes watering.

“I’m so proud of you, Conner.”

Okay, yeah. Definitely watering.

Another hand rested on his shoulder. He glanced to the side and saw a smiling Adrien.

“It’s a surprise. And it’ll be different. But we can make this work.”

“But…but I changed them.” Conner murmured, uncertain.

“They were already changed.” Plagg replied in a blasé manner, floating lazily nearby. “You just held them together so the warring magics wouldn’t rip them apart. And given that they’re each more magical than you—no offense, kid—you aren’t capable of forcing them into a form if they didn’t want it.”

Conner froze. “Wait…what?”

Plagg rolled his eyes. “If they wanted to be dolls again, they would be. Keep up, kid.”

Tikki gave a giggle. “I think they wanted to be like you, Conner.”

He blushed. “They…what?”

But she had a point, didn’t she? The Dolls didn’t get to move about as openly as he did. They weren’t understood easily by anyone outside of himself, their parents, or the kwamis. They struggled to do things he could accomplish with ease. And though they liked that he would carry and hug them…they sometimes looked like they wanted to return the favor.

Conner had been jealous of them. Wishing in some ways he had been more like them. He’d never considered they could have felt the same towards him.

Even in their sleep, the three clung to him.

They were like this…because they’d wanted it. And he’d helped them keep it.

He drew them a little closer. And in turn allowed himself to be drawn closer as well when Marinette and Adrien also joined them in the growing cuddle pile.

All six of them stayed together for a while after that.

There would be things to do because of this. Arrangements would need to be made. Explanations given. History and paperwork and legalities.

But for now, they were together and safe.

[thewritewolf]

Kitten Love

Hello! This fic was written for @anotherblog1234, who you’ll find more on instagram or deviantart than on tumblr! Psyclopathe, I hope you enjoy this fluffy one shot! :D

@mlsecretsanta

Marinette isn't complaining when Adrien suddenly asked her out, although she *is* very worried about their first date... Meanwhile, Adrien - who hadn't thought this through - is struggling to come up with a good first date idea.

Enjoy!

Read on

Ao3

.

Adrien paced back and forth in front of the windows in his rooms. His face was a mask of determination and his hands were folded behind his back as he put all his focus into the task at hand. He suddenly stopped and stood straight, turning on his heels to face Plagg as he put his fist in his hand. Naturally, the cat kwami was simply watching him, bored out of his mind.

“Okay, I’ve got it - Imagine this,” Adrien began, “A candlelit dinner at the most prestigious restaurant in all of Paris. I hire a violinist to accompany us. The perfect, classic romantic date.” Adrien put his hands on his hips and grinned.

To his annoyance, Plagg just yawned and scratched behind his ears. After a few moments he looked back at Adrien. “Oh? Was that all? I assumed there was something more than that.”

Crossing his arms, Adrien pouted and asked, “What’s wrong with a classic candlelit dinner?”

“‘Classic’, huh? Unoriginal, overdone, cliche.” Plagg shrugged. “I mean, I don’t care either way, but if you’re gonna bother me about this, at least make it something new.”

“Yeah, okay, fine.” Adrien rolled his eyes and got back to pacing, ignoring the gross eating noises Plagg was making. If two years wasn’t enough to help him tune it out, nothing would be. His eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. “What about a theater production? Or maybe an opera!” A grin spread across his face. “She’s gone to plays before, so I’m sure she’d love this one!”

Frustratingly, Plagg remained unmoved. In a deadpan voice, he said, “Right, staying quiet for hours at a time in the dark, surrounded by strangers. Ideal stuff for talking and getting to know each other.”

“We know plenty about each other!”

“Kid, look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to spend the whole date learning about her.”

Adrien struggled to meet his kwami’s face and folded immediately, his shoulders hunching forward in a sad slouch.

“Besides,” Plagg continued, ignoring his chosen’s distress, “I know you and you’d probably take her somewhere way too high class.”

“It is what she deserves,” Adrien said, glaring at Plagg.

“But isn’t not what she’s used to. For someone like Marinette, it would all be too overwhelming. Think something simpler, more down to earth.” Plagg pulled out his second cheese wheel. Adrien was running out of time with Plagg being even moderately invested in helping plan this date.

“Down to earth… What about a trip to our cabin at the Alps? That’s pretty earthy, right? And it’d be just the two of us for a weekend. Well,” Adrien conceded, “and maybe the Gorilla stopping by to check up on us.”

Plagg stared at him. “This is a first date, young man. Not a honeymoon. You’ll give her a heart attack if you do something like that.”

“Plagg!” Adrien whined. “What should I do! You’ve shot down all of my ideas.”

“Jeez, kid, just go somewhere that you’re both together and having fun.” The kwami gulped down the last of his cheese and zoomed into the air. “Now leave me out of this!”

The last thing Adrien saw of Plagg as he vanished under the bedsheets was his ears and long tail. He put a hand to his chin.

“Together… having fun…”

Adrien’s face brightened. This idea was bound to be a winner!

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

“Marinette, you look fine. You can stop that now.”

She paused in the middle of another brush stroke and shot her kwami a desperate look. “I can’t just look ‘fine’, Tikki! I have to look perfect!”

“Somehow, I don’t think Adrien will be able to tell the difference between your tenth and your fiftieth time brushing your hair.” Tikki glanced toward the pile of clothes on her bed. “Or, for that matter, your second or tenth outfit.”

“But I need to-”

Tikki zoomed in front of her face. “Relax, Marinette. He already cares about you. The fact that he asked you out is already proof of that. And besides,” she added, landing on her shoulder, “didn’t he say to dress casually? Surely you won’t need to worry too much about your hair if that’s the case.”

“I… guess,” Marinette said, biting her lower lip. She stood up and started pacing her room. “But this could be my one and only chance to make sure he falls for me. I have to really nail it. Otherwise, I might lose him for good.”

“Marinette… I know for sure that he thinks the world of you. There isn’t anything you can do to scare him off now.”

“You can’t know that! I don’t even know what I’m going to say when he gets here!”

Tikki seemed like she was about to respond when her antennae twitched and she glanced toward the trapdoor. She smiled and said, “You’d better figure it out fast,” before phasing into Marinette’s purse.

There wasn’t any time to puzzle out what she meant before there was a knock on her door.

“Hello?” Came a very familiar voice. “Your parents said you were up here. Can I come in?”

A surge of panic filled her as she glanced around her room at the many Adrien posters and she dove for the door, blocking it with her body. Her drastic measures weren’t necessary as Adrien didn’t even try to open it.

“Are you okay? I thought I heard something fall.”

“Y-yes! I’m fine! Just, um, just finishing getting ready. I- I’ll meet you in the living room?”

There was a pause from just below her. “Okay. Take your time!”

She listened to him trudge downstairs before letting out a sigh of relief. Tikki emerged from her purse and crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at her chosen.

“What? I can’t have him see all this!” She gestured to the pictures of Adrien modeling and the pile of discarded clothes. “Now I just… sit here for a minute and go into the living room.”

“You know,” Tikki replied while looking at one of the larger posters, “you probably can take them down soon.” A smile warmed her tiny face as she turned her attention to Marinette. “Then you can start replacing them with pictures you take on your future dates.”

Her heart raced and her head felt light as she stood up. “Future… dates…?”

“Mhm. The ones I know you two will have.” Tikki returned to her purse, poking her head out as she added, “Now go get that boy!”

Marinette nodded resolutely and marched down the stairs. She could do this! All this time, she’d been getting better talking to Adrien. Getting to understand him as a friend. They knew each other, they had a great foundation to build a relationship off of. Adrien wasn’t anyone to be scared of.

That’s what she was telling herself as she turned the corner and entered the room. Adrien was seated on the couch facing away from her, but he must have heard her enter since his head whirled around to look at her. When she saw how his face lit up when his eyes landed on her, saw the bouquet of tulips (her favorites!) that he’d brought her, she realized she was right, even as her heart jumped to her throat.

Adrien wasn’t scary.

He was just very, very painfully cute.

...Marinette wasn’t sure if this was any better.

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

The walk to their destination was meandering and filled with light conversation. Questions about her latest designs, his photoshoots, classwork, everything to pass the time. Once she got into the groove of it, past her own nerves, it was almost like talking with an old friend. Which, she realized with a start, he was. Two years of friendship and now it was turning into something more. She couldn’t be happier.

...At least, that was what she thought until they finally arrived. She glanced at Adrien in confusion.

“...An animal shelter?”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I know it’s not the usual first date, but… they’re having a special meet and greet with kittens today,” he cleared this throat and added, “among other things.” He looked back at her bashfully. “...Is that okay?”

She clapped excitedly and hugged him. “I love it!” Her eyes flew open and she was gripped with panic for a moment. Was this too much too quickly? Was she invading his space? But those doubts melted away when he returned the hug.

“I’m glad,” he whispered. “Now come on! We’ve got baby kitties to pet!”

As he grabbed her hand and pulled her along, Marinette felt herself loosen up. Adrien spoke with the receptionist and was given directions to a room in the back. When they entered the room, they were immediately greeted by the sounds of over a dozen tiny kittens meowing at everything they could find. Including each other. The door opening attracted the attention of some of them, who immediately began trying to climb their way up the smooth waist-high wall blocking them from the only exit.

Marinette glanced over at Adrien, who almost looked on the verge of tears from happiness. She could understand the feeling as she stepped over the barrier and was immediately mobbed by kittens trying to climb their way up her dress. The kitten who had climbed the furthest found itself snatched up by Marinette and given kisses to the top of its head. It mewed in protest as she sat down.

After a few moments she noticed the one she was holding was the only one that was still near her. She looked up and immediately covered her mouth with her hand when she saw where they had all gone.

Just like her, Adrien had sat down and immediately began drowning in baby kitties. Almost all the kittens in the pen were drawn to him, clambering awkwardly over her date. A few were sitting in front of him, mewing as if to attract his attention. Others were making good use of his Agreste-brand jacket to get a good foothold as they climbed. Four sat all in a heap in his lap, purring contently as his hands briefly darted between them. One particularly intrepid kitten sat on top of his head and meowed in triumph… at least until Adrien picked him up and set him back on the ground.

Remembering what Tikki had said, she pulled out her phone and took a few pictures of the ridiculously adorable scene. Her giggling drew his attention and her breath caught when she saw just how happy he was. She was well acquainted with his model smile - it stared down at her everyday - but this was one that she had only seen drawn from him a few times before. She reflexively took another photo before setting down her phone.

His eyes trailed downward and his head tilted curiously when he saw what was in her lap.

There was amusement in his voice as he asked, “Is that the only black cat you like?”

She glanced down at the same time that the kitten looked up at her with big, green eyes. With her index finger she scratched it between the ears, coaxing a purr from the little guy.

“Well, at least this one doesn’t tell cat puns all the time.”

Adrien smirked. “Furreal? But cat puns are clawesome!”

“Sometimes, but there are other kinds of puns out there.”

“Hm…” Adrien tapped his chin. “So you’re saying Chat Noir should expand his act.” The black kitten meowed loudly, making Adrien laugh. “Not you, kitten noir.”

Marinette giggled despite herself. The time passed by quickly after that and eventually Adrien emerged from the pile of kittens, stretching his legs as he did so. They still tried to cling onto him and Marinette had to check him to make sure no determined stragglers were still hitching a ride.

“Are you sure we can’t play with the kittens some more?”

“We can come back later if you really want,” Adrien replied as they reached another door. “I just thought you’d want to see what’s in here.”

Curious, Marinette gently pushed open the door… only to see a glass maze filled with-

“Hamsters?” Suspicion bloomed in her gut.

“Yeah! I heard you wanted one when- um…”

“Adrien… When what?”

“When we… have a family together?”

A pit of dread opened up in her gut. In a small voice she said, “...What? How did you-”

Adrien was rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “So you know like two weeks ago when you left behind your sketchbook and Alya found it and gave it back to you?”

Her jaw dropped. “No…”

“I was the one who found it.” He wrung his hands in front of himself, unable to meet her eyes.

“Did you-”

“Read it? Yeah.” He looked as embarrassed as she felt and she buried her face in her hands. How was she ever going to look him in the eye again? “I didn’t mean to! But it was already open and I immediately got dragged off to a photoshoot and the designs were so good…” He looked at her apologetically. “I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.”

“But…” The word was said with such sly confidence that it made Marinette look up at him again. “For what it’s worth, I think Marinette Agreste doesn’t sound half as nice as Adrien Dupain-Cheng.”

[nightwingshero]

All I Wanted

So...I did a thing. @sapphicvalhallas maybe I wasn’t as innocent as I claimed. Anyway, so I’m gonna be honest, I just wrote this out because I got inspired by a few songs. Mainly Misguided Ghosts and All I Wanted by Paramore. Hence the name. But...yeah.

“Do you think he’ll be happy?” I whispered, glancing up at Rowan as insecurity ate at my insides. She met me with a glowing smile as she stuffed the little booties in the gift bag with the paper.

“I know he will be. Having a miniature version of himself running around? He’s going to be ecstatic.”

I smiled, feeling reassured as I finished tying the bow around the plastic stick and setting in the bag. I was about two months, or at least, that’s what one of the doctors in the Project had said. Luckily, she still stuck with the doctor/patient confidentiality. The idea that the family was growing elated them, and I was curious if she had been more excited than I was. But that was what led us here, Rowan and I, away from her cabin in the woods with Jacob, and getting out of the ranch from John’s watchful eye.

If I was being honest, deep down I was terrified. So fucking terrified. The absolute joy the woman expressed, forced me to put a smile on my face, but I didn’t feel it. I went home, vomited up all the anxieties, fears, and trauma that went along with news like this for someone like me. Not that I was alone. No, many women have had to deal with stuff like I had, and I reminded myself of that. But to me? That defining moment haunted me enough that even the bliss twisted my nightmares into reality. Something that was supposed to be uplifting, showed me just how much my heart still bled.

But this was a new beginning, the real fresh start of my life, unlike what had happened when I first moved here. The blotched arrest, the constant fighting…falling in love with the enemy, and the ultimate betrayal. It was like I had free fallen into absolute chaos and it wasn’t until I realized what made me happy, that I was able to breathe.

“Wren?”

My eyes snapped back up to Rowan’s dark brown ones, a bit startled. “Hmm?”

Rowan frowned, leaning forward to squeeze my hand. “Hey, are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine! I was just deep in thought. Did you say something?”

She opened herself, but there was a sharp knock on the door, drawing both of our attention. Without waiting to be called in, Jane burst through the door. I smiled at the presence of my favorite redhead, something smart on the tip of my tongue, but I stop as her frantic eyes meet mine.

“Sister Wren, we need to leave. Now.”

Rowan glanced at me as my frown deepened. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She swallowed, closing her eyes briefly. “The ranch. It was attacked. The alarm had been triggered.”

“When?” Rowan demanded. I couldn’t move, let alone speak, as I went cold.

“About 20-30 minutes ago—”

“That long?!” I shriek, shooting up. “How the hell am I just now hearing about this?” I stormed out of the room, heading outside with both women on my heel.

“I just found out—”

I yanked open the driver side door and climbed in. Jane looked at me in shock, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need my Chosen driving me around, I only relented sometimes for John’s sake. I didn’t trust Jane to throw caution to the wind. I glared at her through the window. “Get in the fucking car.”

She pursed her lips before climbing into the passenger side, Rowan climbing in the back. I didn’t think about seatbelts, I had barely given Rowan enough time to close the door. Gravel flies as I slaw on the gas, Jane looking at me like a crazed woman, and in this moment, I was.

“John is still at the bunker, right? Has he been informed?” I asked. “Fuck, Randy is at the house. Was he the one that called? I hope he’s okay.” Jane hesitated, not saying a word. I looked at her, but the second our eyes met, she looked away. “Is he at the bunker, Jane?” I breathed out, panic rising in my chest from her silence.

“Wren—”

“Damn it, Jane, where the hell is my husband?” I snapped. “He went to the bunker like he had planned, right? He told me this morning that that’s what—”

“He never left.” She whispered, but it was as if she screamed it straight in my ear, a ring beginning to sound. “He stayed home, he wanted to make sure he was home so he would have time to surprise you with a date night. He…he insisted that he wouldn’t beat you home from the bunker.”

The sound that escapes my throat is strangled as I grip the steering wheel tighter, my foot pressing down a little more. Rowan clutches my shoulder. “John is surrounded by Chosen all the time, there are guards stationed at your home 24/7, Wren. I’m sure he’s fine.”

I tried the best I could, but I began to panic, on the verge of hyperventilating as my mind ran wild with the possibilities. Finally, I turned on our drive with Jane insisting I slowed down. I paid her no mind as I left a trail of dust behind us. My heart sank as we passed the YES sign, bullet holes and blood stains tainting the white paint. Jane squeezed the door handle as we came around the corner, slamming on the brakes and coming to a skid.

Jumping out, the breath escaped from my lungs completely. Blood, bodies, and chaos covered the lawn of my very home. I staggered, my hand over my mouth as I saw faces of my own loyal followers and people I had once helped, lifeless. A few more of our people milled around, trying to do what they could to clean up the devastation, but their faces were grim, heartbroken and mournful for the family members they had lost. I looked crazed as some newer members spoke to our Chosen, shaken and a bit hysterical, as they eyed me.

“Is that--”

“The Judge, his wife. You know Sister Wren, don’t you?”

“Does she know?”

There words barely register, and I rushed to the house, not caring for a second if Rowan and Jane were with me. The hairs on the back of my neck had stood on end as I ran. Randy was with John, John was safe. I repeated it tom myself over and over as I made it through the threshold. My legs push harder to get me up the stairs faster, and I stumble to a stop as I come to the top.

The door is barely open, just ajar enough for me to see the sunlight coming through. My heart hammers against my chest as I take a step forward. Normally, he would either keep it shut or decide to keep it open wide. I shouldn’t be this scared of a door, but I’m shaking. Suddenly I’m a heroine in one of those horror movies I force John to watch. We’ll both laugh at my comparison to Laurie from Halloween, and that’s the only comfort I can cling to in this moment.

“John?” I called, taking another step. “Baby, are you okay?” Nothing, but silence. My breath quickens even more. “This isn’t funny, you stubborn ass. Just please tell me you’re okay.”

I picked up the pace when I got no reply, a panicked sob choking me. “Please be okay. For the love of God, baby, be okay.” I shove the door open, looking and seeing nothing at first. But then I take it in, the messy desk, papers scattered, his laptop on the floor, and that’s when I finally find him.

I’m on my knees in seconds, my hands on his chest, as the tears pour. His eyes are closed, a tint to his cool skin that doesn’t settle well with me. He’s blue. He’s too fucking blue. “Baby, I’m here. I got you.” I cry harder when he doesn’t move. I barely notice the blood soaking through my jeans. I’m too busy shaking him. “John, wake up, I’m here. It’s okay.” I pull at his hand to place it against my face, but its cold and it won’t stay. My eyes squeeze shut as a painful wail finally escapes, all my feelings refusing to be bottled any longer.

I grab him, pulling him on my lap as I cradle his head, my lips pressed against his forehead as I cry. I rock back and forth, because I don’t know what else to do. The movement disturbed something in his other hand, drawing my attention. The frame was broken and the glass shattered, but our wedding picture was still in decent condition. My rocking increases as I sob harder. “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!”

I squeeze him harder, willing him to open his eyes. To cough, and scoff, only to make a stupid remark that would only make me smack him on the arm. To snap at me to stop because I’m making him dizzy. But none of that comes and I hear a distant shrieking as my hand fists his hair, placing my forehead awkwardly against his. I hadn’t had the chance to tell him, he would never know that I was carrying our child. And I was alone. I would have to do this all alone, without my partner, my anchor. It was crushing, I could barely breathe. As the soreness in my throat builds, I realize that I had been the one shrieking. “You promised! You swore to me that you would never leave me!”

Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me back, but I only held on to my husband tighter. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, let go. But the person was stronger. And I turned as they ripped me away and swung blindly. Jacob dodged it with ease as I tried to pull away, only to slam my fists against his chest. He pulled me forward, engulfing me in a hug as I collapsed against him. “He’s gone, Jacob. He’s gone.”

“I know.” Jacob replied, his voice gruff. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t offer condolences, just stood there as I fell apart. I pulled away, glancing to see Rowan and Joseph there in the doorway, both silently crying. “Get her out of here, Ro.”

Rowan nodded, gently pulling on my arm. I followed, allowing her to pull me along. I was too numb, too out of it to protest. This wasn’t real. This didn’t feel real. I wanted nothing more than to just go back to this morning, laying in bed with him laying on top of me and snoring lightly. I would give anything to go back to two nights ago, to relive the fight we had. The way that he had slipped down the stairs to carry me up from the stairs because I was too stubborn to sleep in our room. I wanted his arms around me.

“I’ll get you some tea.” Rowan whispered as she helped me to couch. I say nothing in response, and she leaves.

I had been sitting there what felt like hours, a mug full of cold tea in my hands. I had only been sipping it here and there. They had already carried him out, plans on what to do next being thrown around. I couldn’t believe it, even as I sat covered in his blood. The sound of someone clearing their throat drew my attention to see Joseph standing next to the now lit fireplace. I couldn’t remember when that had happened.

“May I join you?” he asked softly. I just nodded aboundingly in response, still struggling with finding words. So, it’s silent for a while, until he decides to break the silence. “I’m sorry for your loss, Wren. This is hard on all of us.”

I sniffed, glancing down at my cup. “I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t think for a second that they would attack here, because…”

“Because of you?”

I looked at him, his soft eyes meeting mine. “I still have some friends…they didn’t exactly understand, but they love me. I thought that they wouldn’t attack either of us because of me. It was so stupid, because I lived in my own world where I believed that we were untouchable because I was an ally at one point. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. And John paid the price for my pride.” My voice broke as my shoulders sagged.

“That wasn’t pride, Wren. You wanted, and wished, for a happy future for the both of you. There is nothing wrong with that.”

“I can’t do this without him, Joseph. I just can’t.” I sobbed.

He placed his hand on my shoulder. “It will hurt for a long time, I know. But you can—"

“I’m pregnant…I’m pregnant and John’s dead, Joseph. He’s gone, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Joseph hesitated, a bit shocked at the reveal, but brushed it off. “He left you everything, Wren. You and the child are well taken care of. It’s in his will—”

“I don’t give a fuck about his will or his money!” I shrieked, my eyes squeezed shut as a broken sob wracked my body. I want my husband!” I began to shake, my breath quick. “Who am I without him? What am I if I don’t have him? How the hell am I supposed to do this without my other half? I can’t do this alone!”

“You are not alone.” He replied softly with passion. “I know you’re not religious, and you don’t believe in what I preach. But you hold a pivotal role in our community, an example of strong faith and leadership that people follow. This community is your family, Wren. We are your family.” Joseph whispered, his voice softly giving way to that Georgia drawl he could sometimes hide.

“False faith? I’m pretty sure that’s a sin, Joseph.” I sound hollow, a shell of myself as the words tumble out. Words that was meant to be something like a joke coming across robotically and empty. All I could do was stare at my blood covered hands numbly.

“You had faith in John.” His name cuts deeply and its enough for my eyes to meet Joseph’s. Despite the fact that they were technically the same color, they were so different than John’s. A serene calm vs the playful mischief that my husband always portrayed. “The trust you had in him, the love you had for him, created a loyalty that spread and touched those he was loyal to, bringing you into a family that welcomed you with open arms, that still accepts and loves you. Your faith in him was enough for that. And he…he loved you more than he loved himself.” My face contorted, fresh tears following the trails of old ones as the pain throbbed. “That was something John struggled with every day. He would take, because he loved himself more than he loved others. And you saw that, didn’t you? The night you first met him.”

“The Cleansing.” I replied lowly and Joseph gave a single nod.

“That’s right. And it was your fear of him not being able to love you in return, not as you did him, that drove you two apart before. My brother John was loved by few and feared by many. He wasn’t always like that. When we were young, he was full of joy, easily preyed upon. He wanted to watch the world burn. And after he met you, after this started, John would have done it all for you if he had to. Because he finally understood what I meant. He loved you more than he loved anything.”

“Except you.”

Joseph hummed, closing his eyes momentarily. “Do you have any siblings, Wren?”

I knew he already knew the answer, but I appreciated that he was giving me the courtesy and respect to offer me the chance to tell him myself. “No.”

“Well, when you have siblings, there’s this…feeling. This bond that is interwoven in your very nature to protect and love them. Jacob knows that better than all of us. But it isn’t a bond or a love you choose.” Joseph placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “You are the bond, the love, he had chosen. You’re what kept him in the light. At the end, it wasn’t Eden’s Gate that gave him the redemption he longed for…it was you.”

My face contorted as my heart twisted painfully. “He didn’t always do good, but he loved me. He loved this family and his people. He learned to love, Joseph. And for this to happen to him…?”

“We can’t explain the bad that happens. Only fight it with love and faith.”

I scoff lightly, but Joseph doesn’t say anything. “How did it happen?” I whispered. “Nobody has told me.”

Joseph shifted, removing his hand as he looked down at his book. “Jacob believes it was a sniper. Someone came in, and John fought, but it was a sniper that…”

I swallowed, clenching my teeth as I glared tearfully at the flames. “Grace.” I hissed. He glanced back at me as I dug my nails into the meat of my thigh.

“What do you plan to do?”

I looked at him, the fire in my eyes burning as my mouth twisted in a sneer. “What I’m meant to do. I’m the Judge, Joseph. So that’s what I will do. I will Judge their actions accordingly. All their sins, their transgressions.”

“And then?”

“And then I will release every once of Wrath that I have left for what they’ve taken from me.” My voice is icy and dark, but I don’t care. “They will not be given forgiveness. They aren’t worthy of it. And they’re going to realize just what John’s death has cost them. And I will show no amount of mercy.”

[littledreamybeth]

Leaving you

A/N: This is bullshit... I really should stop writing forever... But you decide so here we go... sorry for any kinds of mistakes...

Summary: Harry’s public life becomes to much for Y/N

All my life I had been the one who’s heart got broken every damn time, but never had I imagined that one day I would be the one to break someone else’s heart. Especially if that person didn’t do anything severe.

Especially if that person was Harry Styles; the kindest, loveliest and the most amazing person I’ve ever met and had been with.

When I chose to date him, but I hadn’t expected to feel miserable as I was doing now.

I’ve really thought I was capable of enduring all the hardships that our relation and Harry’s public life brought along, however, I came to conclusion that I had been terribly mistaken and had totally underestimated myself. The constant hate plus cyberbullying, the paparazzi being hot on my heels for 24/7 straight and thousands of cheating rumors circling around on tabloids about my boyfriend apparently meeting another hot super model behind my back- all of these incidents just overweighed my mental capacity and added even more fuel to the fire, namely; my fucked up insecurities. This heavy burden was more than I could ever handle or carry on my shoulders.

Unfortunately, I had to choose. It was either my mental health, which was far more important to me than anything else at the moment because I was almost at the verge of going insane, or my relationship with Harry that would keep me unhappy. It’s not that I didn’t love him; I’ve given my heart to him bits by bits, sacrificing everything that I had left only to receive his love and to hold his heart in my hands. Now, I realized how badly the consequences influenced me.

It had never occurred to me that I would suffer so severely under our relationship.

I had been always someone with major insecurities and after starting to date Harry, they didn’t get any better. I thought perhaps he could help me to defeat them so I could change into the strong young woman that I had dreamed of being. A young woman who loved herself the way she was. I was still far away from that destination.

Additionally, to my fucked up self, I started to develop paranoia thanks to damn paparazzi. There had been no moment in which I could step out of my house-somebody found where I lived unfortunately- without being bombarded with thousands of questions. I wasn’t even the famous one, so why following me around?

Also, the rumors about Harry added some trust issues and who would ever want a girlfriend who thought you would cheat on her whenever you went out with your female friends? Harry didn’t deserve such a girlfriend like me.

I tried to explain my problem, hoping he would comprehend the issue and why I had chosen to break up.

But Harry didn’t take it positively at all.

We were standing in the middle of my living room, his tall frame hovering over mine, making me feel small.

“You’re leaving me? Why?”

I articulate with the correct words so he wouldn’t be offended at the end. It wasn’t his fault anyway. “Everything is getting too much recently, Harry. I don’t think I can handle it. I’m not feeling well at all.”

“If that’s so we can get you professional help, how about that? I can arrange a meeting with the best therapist in London?” He tried to compromise. I could see panic being reflected in his green orbs. The fear of losing me.

“I don’t think it will help. Harry, it’s not that what I want.”

He looked at me confused.

“What is it then?”

I sighed, “I need a break from your public life. I know we’ve been together for a long while, but I still haven’t got used to it and I’m sorry that it took me so long to tell you. I thought could get accustomed to everything, but I didn’t. I want my private life back. I want to live in peace.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, love. Maybe we could leave until you feel better then?”

“Mental health conditions do not change overnight, Harry.”

“What do you want me to do, then?”

“Nothing,” I said, although it was quite obvious what I intended with this conversation.

“You’re very eager to get rid of me, aren’t ya?” His voice, which once held a soft undertone whenever he would speak, sounded so poisonous and unfamiliar in a sudden, I couldn’t recognize it at all. For a moment, it felt like as if a stranger that I’ve never met or heard before was talking to me and not my loving boyfriend. When I dared to look into his eyes with the last ounce of courage I had, a shudder went through my body from head to toe because I could clearly see the anger fuming behind his usually gentle green orbs. They were emitting complete darkness, making me feel little under his piercing gaze. Not being able to withstand the eye contact any longer, my glance fell down to his hands which he had so tightly fisted into two balls, I practically saw his knuckles turning very white. He flared his nostrils. His chest heaved strongly with every intake of breath. I knew he tried to stay calm, but despite his attempts, he was going to explode soon and if that happened, oh lord, you had to run as far as you could and search for a hiding place.

Harry was unrecognizable when he was mad. Dangerous even. But he would never raise his hand against me. At least that’s what I was hoping.

“You can’t wait to leave me.”

I shook my head unbelievingly, gaping at him. Although I was freaking scared, I still tried to hold my ground. “That’s not true, Harry. You know that. Stop twisting my words so you have a reason to be angered.”

He snorted. “I have a fucking reason to be mad. You’re leaving me and act like as if it wasn’t a big deal to you. So, excuse me miss if I’m getting upset at you for making me feel unworthy to your standards.”

“Standards? What in god’s name are you talking about?! I gave you a fucking valid reason why I chose to end things with you and all you gathered from what I’ve said is this? I never claimed you were being unworthy, I just stated that I don’t think I can keep up with your life anymore. It is affecting my mental health, don’t you get it? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and I have no privacy, for fucks sake. There is no day in which I���m not followed around by rude people showing their cameras into my face because they need some new headlines to gossip about. The majority of your fandom hates me, and I can’t even walk on the streets without fearing of being attacked. People call me ugly, they call me fat and unfitting for you. So, for the love of god, show some understanding! Stop making everything about you!” Another wave of tears was brimming my eyes. I was so tired of crying.

I really hoped I had spoken some sense into his stubborn mind, but unfortunately my speech had achieved the exact opposite reaction than I was expecting. Instead, things started to escalate.

“About me?!”

A loud bang echoed through the entire room. My wall had a dent.

“I’ve told you before!” Harry yelled. I was sure the entire building was able to hear him by now. His outburst made me flinch and back away a few steps in fright.

“I’ve told you exactly what you’d get yourself into if you chose to be with me and do you want me to remind you of what you answered back then?! You said you could handle it! It was you who said that as long as we have each other, our love would overcome everything! You fucking promised me my life was not a bother to you, you assured me that you wouldn’t run away like the ones I’ve dated before you because there was no way that you were like them. You promised to stay!! Look at you now; you prove that you���re no different than anybody else I was with!”

He was right. He was completely in the right and I couldn’t blame him for that.

“I know…” I whispered underneath my breath.

Harry groaned and went back and forth, his fingers grasping his chocolate curls so tightly, I feared he was going to rip them off his skull. Anguish was written all across his face.

“Fuck!” he screamed. The next time I looked at him, he was on the ground.

“Love, please,” he begged on his knees, his glossy eyes staring into my soul, “I’m ready to give up anything for you if you stay. Ask me anything you want, and you’ll have it, I promise. You’re the reason why life is getting easier for me every day. You give me a little bit of normality at times where I feel so out of place, as if I didn’t belong to anywhere in this world. I’m so sick of people seeing me as the Harry Styles. I’m sick of people putting me up on a pedestal or using me. I hate hiding a part of me in fear that I might get criticized. You, however, you see the real me. You don’t judge me but embrace who I am. You accept me. Please, I need you or I will lose myself. You’re my guardian angel that I need to keep.”

He slung his arms around my legs, hugging them so tightly that I couldn’t move from my spot. His desperate cries rang through my ear drums and found their way down to my heart, cutting it into two halves. My lungs burned from the lack of air. I just noticed now that I had stopped breathing. I was incredibly conflicted. I knew leaving him would make things less complicated for me than staying.

As selfish as it sounded and no matter how much I loved him, I had to improve my mental condition and focus on myself before I invested anything into our relationship again. My well-being was what mattered the most. Call me a fucking bitch for breaking Harry’s heart but believe me when I tell you that dumping him was the hardest challenge I’ve ever been through.

“Harry…” I sighed, trying to pry off his arms from my legs, “you know I can’t. I’m wasn’t made for this public life.”

I gazed down at him. Shoulders hanging low, his head pointing to the ground and his legs crossed, he sat there in a deafening silence. The tension between us made me a dizzy a lot. I took this short moment of quietness to gather my thoughts and to plan the next steps in my head.

And then, Harry’s voice reverberated through the room.

“If I leave through that door, this is it,” he said without any emotion behind his words. His dull and tired eyes met mine. Raising his arm, he pointed at the front door. “If I leave through that door, I won’t come back, and you will never see me again. I’ll cut you out of my heart. So, choose wisely, Y/N because there are no second chances.”

I tried to swallow the big fat lump that had developed in my throat, blinking away the tears in my eyes. My voice wavered as I answered, “Maybe that’s the best for us.” I avoided looking at him in the eyes, but I knew I had destroyed the last remains of hope that was left in them.

Why did my heart feel so heavy? It was better for him if he dated someone who was in his league, wasn’t it? Someone who didn’t mind changing their private life for a public one. Someone who was stronger than me.

Harry choked out a few heavy sobs before he raised up from his spot and faced me. The image of this broken man in front of me would haunt me forever.

We shared no words, no physical affection, no ‘I love you’s, nor did we bid each other farewell. We were just staring at each other. Maybe this was the perfect final opportunity to memorize every single detail of him. To engrave how he looked like up close. To imprint the shape of his lips, the size of his nose, his dimple and the twinkle of his beautiful green irises. However, he gave me no time to do such because, before I could even blink, he was already headed to the front door.

He turned to me for the very last time. His hand searched for something in his pocket, and suddenly something landed in front of my feet with a loud thud.

My eyes widened as I caught a glimpse of the foreign object. The world around me was spinning, and it gave me the terrible urge to throw up. It couldn’t be! With trembly fingers, I picked up the dark velvet box.

“You know, when I came here, I really thought I would leave this apartment with a smile on my face, knowing that you’d become my future wife,” Harry commented, the bitter tone of his voice couldn’t be overheard. “Instead, I’m leaving with a broken heart and shattered hopes. Congratulations, you have what you wanted.”

The door fell shut and he was gone.

I was frozen like a statue, couldn’t do anything but to stare at the velvet box in my hand. My insides were churning as I opened the lid and discovered a gorgeous diamond ring hiding underneath that took my breath away. It sparkled wonderfully in the light.

I saw the effort behind it, knowing exactly that Harry had trudged from one jeweler’s shop to the next because he was a very picky person who just wanted to find the perfect ring he could propose with. I saw the disappointment attached on his face every time when he found none but also excitement when he finally did. I saw the large smile decorating his lips when he admired the ring and when he said, “That’s the one.”

Placing the ring in the middle of my palm, I could feel how it burned and pierced through my skin. I couldn’t even look at it properly, not only because my vision was completely blurred by my tears, no, also because the ring was mocking me. I had been so determined to end my relationship with the man I could’ve called mine for the rest of my life, but now I was ashamed. Guilt swarmed through my body. My heart was under fire, paining, aching, bleeding. I landed on my knees and cried and cried and cried.

I could only hope that my decision was worth crushing the unique heart that I once held in between my hands.

 Harry

The small metal object felt incredibly heavy in my hand. My head couldn’t really process that I was going to do what I had planned the moment I had exited her apartment. Y/N’s and I’s breakup had left severe injuries that hurt and tore me apart. All this time I had strongly believed she was the one. I was so sure that she was different, that she would stay by my side regardless of who I was. I had told her the obstacles our relationship had to deal with, but she just waved it off, telling me she would fight against those if she had to. She had lied. I felt so betrayed.

I had trust issues, anyway, resulting from former unsuccessful relationships. So, when I had met Y/N, it took me a long while to regain my trust towards love for fear of being let down again. She broke my walls that should protect me from pain and now I had nothing to keep me safe anymore.

I shook my head.

Previously, I had emptied a box full of memories into my fireplace. Now, I was looking at them and letting the past flash before my eyes. Every happy memory that we both had created together would not be existing anymore. I took a photo in between my thumb and pointer finger. When I saw her smiling face pictured on it while I was kissing her cheek, I broke. Why was she doing this to me? Why was she hurting me so much? Have I ever meant as much to her as she did to me?

I threw the photo back into the fireplace and ignited the lighter. I hesitated for a moment. Was I really going to destroy valuable memories?

A snort escaped my lips. She threw our relationship away as if it was a piece of garbage so why did I care if I erased everything out of my life that dealt with her? I had been serious when I told her I was going to cut her out of my life.

Suddenly, the fireplace lit up and filled my living room with soothing warmth. I watched as the flames swallowed the last remains of Y/N’s and I’s relationship. Another tear slips down my cheek as I let my memories or anything that reminded me of her burn down into a pile of ashes along with my heart.

[zacharybosch]

Playing Dead - chapter 5

in which will and hannibal finally have a conversation

chapter 1: tumblr / ao3

chapter 2: tumblr / ao3

chapter 3: tumblr / ao3

chapter 4: tumblr / ao3

read chapter 5 of Playing Dead below or on ao3!

Will left Beverly and Miriam at the café, with instructions to meet him the following day at a nearby park. On the walk back to the house, he turned over in his mind the options he now had laid out before him. He could do just as he said he would, kill Hannibal and wipe him from memory and then take off somewhere new. It was an appealing thought, to be cut loose and on the road again; so much of his life he had spent solitary and transitory, and he liked it that way.

He could take Hannibal and disappear into the night, lead Beverly and Miriam on a wild chase across the continent. Maybe even take a foray into Asia, though it would be far more difficult for him to blend in. But what was life without a little danger? It had been too long since he’d had a real thrill. Moving Hannibal in his current state would be difficult, though. Would his body even hold together through the upheaval of a cross-continental race into oblivion?

Or he could attempt the change again tonight, one last time. There was a good chance that it would fail again, just as it had failed so many countless times already. It was the jagged friction between them, the months of bickering and sullen silences that made up the roadblock on their path to the future; Will’s blood could flow freely into Hannibal’s body, but the spark, the vital essence that would transform Hannibal from human to vampire, was not getting through.

Will could snap his fingers and make it all go away if he wanted to; it was a perk of his vampire nature that he could choose what bothered him and what didn’t, fine-tune his feelings to be perfectly in line with whatever a given situation required, and to do so wouldn’t bother Will in the slightest. It was an act as simple as choosing whether to sit or to stand, and the resultant feelings would be no less authentic for it. Every emotion would be deep and true, from the word go right up until the moment he decided to stop.

But Will was stubborn, sometimes to a fault. He didn’t want to give it up so easy. They would go into it as equals or not at all, and Hannibal had to understand that Will was not a toy to be played with or thrown out of the pram as the whim took him.

Will arrived back at the house with no real decision made, and as he crossed the threshold from the hallway to the sitting room he could see Hannibal, entrenched on the sofa in his ostentatious silk robe and gearing up to greet Will with what was no doubt some terribly clever and cutting remark.

Will held up a weary hand, and to his faint disbelief Hannibal actually paused. “No. Not tonight, Hannibal. No more of your barbs. I’m sick to death of it all. We have more important things to think about right now. We’ve been found.”

“I see. Beverly and Miriam, I assume?”

“Yes. They cornered me at the market.”

“And I suppose now you’re going whisk me off into the night again, leaving them another flimsy murder scene to discover? Your last one evidently didn’t work out so well, if they’ve managed to find us.”

Will groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “This is why I don’t want to fucking turn you, Hannibal. Everything is a problem for you these days. You’re in the middle of the longest, shittiest tantrum I’ve ever seen. A vampire’s temperament is formed largely by the mood they were in when they were turned, and I do not want to turn you when you’re like this and then be saddled with your eternal bad mood.”

For a few seconds, Hannibal was perfectly still, his face blank while he tried and failed to select the appropriate emotion. When he did speak, it was careful to the point of hesitation. “I didn’t realise you were having second thoughts about this.”

“I’m not having second thoughts,” Will sighed. “I just… You make it hard. As much as I’ve been able, I’ve always lived my life alone, and I’ve taken great pains to keep it that way. Right now you’re really making me regret ever trying to integrate into society. It’s difficult, okay? Turning a human is difficult. If it wasn’t, there would be a hell of a lot more vampires running around. It’s not just your body that needs to accept the change, Hannibal. You need to be open to accepting it and I need to be open to giving it. If we’re out of sync then it’s not going to take, no matter how many times we try. It’s mental as much as it is physical, and lately I’ve been struggling to remember why I liked you so much.” Will sat down heavily next to Hannibal and put his head in his hands, and then laughed bitterly. “We should’ve tried when you sucked my dick. It would’ve worked then, I guarantee.”

“This is the first time you’ve acknowledged that encounter.”

“And that’s the first time you’ve acknowledged it.”

“I would’ve done more, if you’d asked it of me. I expected… hoped… that you would,” Hannibal said slowly, a not insubstantial amount of old hurt underlining his words. “But it seemed to mean little to you in the grand scheme of things.”

“It was a mistake. I hadn’t planned it. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Then why did it?”

“I don’t know. I wanted it.”

“Have you wanted it since?”

Will looked sidelong at Hannibal, a beat of silence before he responded. “Not enough to do anything about it.”

“But you have wanted it.”

“Please stop poking at me and just say whatever it is you have to say.”

“You’re falling into old patterns, pointlessly rebuilding walls between us that had already been torn down. It hurts us both, and makes us hurt each other in turn.”

“Maybe I like to hurt.”

“Then there are more mutually satisfying ways to hurt than this. Will, you said that for the change to take hold, you have to be open to giving it. You’re sealing yourself back inside your forts. Come down from your high tower and understand that opening yourself fully to me is not the weakness that it would be with any other human. I am not one of them. I came into this life only so that you could take me beyond it. Perhaps waiting for the change has made me sour in these past months, but I’ll not apologise for it. All this time I have been waiting for you, Will. I would not have waited for any other.”

And there it was, the tiny admission that was Hannibal’s equivalent of rolling over and exposing his underbelly. It was the Hannibal that Will hadn’t seen in months, the Hannibal who sat across from him in therapy, at dinner, late at night in front of the fireplace; the golden spiderweb cracks in the porcelain exterior, tiny glimpses of the tender flesh beneath. Will was Hannibal’s one weakness, and Hannibal had always wielded it as a weapon. His soft parts were quicksand, ready to swallow Will up at the first tentative touch.

“You make me weak,” Will said, though there was no anger or resentment in his words.

“We make each other weak,” Hannibal countered, “and drive each other to reckless and cruel actions. But together we are still stronger than any who could hope to stand against us.”

“You would paint the world red, wouldn’t you? Leave cities awash in blood.”

“Only for you,” Hannibal said. And then, for the second time that evening, he was on the verge of hesitation when he asked: “Do you experience love?”

Will smiled. Hannibal might as well have torn his own heart out and laid it in Will’s lap. “I did when I was human. Or at least, I experienced something that felt like it. But the things I feel as a vampire don’t really map neatly to the human range of emotion. Love is part of a feeling that I can experience, but it’s not a whole feeling by itself.” Will shifted in his seat to look at Hannibal fully, at the proud, aristocratic line of his nose and the pillow of his lips. He looked more like a vampire than Will ever had. “Why do you ask?”

“A little apprehension, I suppose.”

“Worried that you’ll fall madly in love with me after the change?” Will asked, half-joking.

“To the point of foolishness, yes. It is a concern. You’re already… important to me, Will. More than I can adequately convey. I wouldn’t have let you anger me so if I didn’t care about you. But I’ve no wish to be a slave.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve never experienced emotion as others do. I never wanted to. But when I knew you in Baltimore you were nothing but emotion, a restless sea of churning feelings that you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, control. You had a panic attack in the foyer of my house. I don’t want to become a vampire only to discover that every emotion is a consuming tidal wave. I find the idea of being overwhelmed like that to be repulsive. If that’s what life is like for you, I would rather remain human.”

“I wasn’t sure if you remembered the panic attack thing,” Will said. “Those were extreme circumstances. I’d been playing at being human for decades, and I’d let human weakness creep in. When… when I don’t fight what I am, all emotions are optional. I can view and dissect them from the outside, choose what to feel and exactly how much I want to feel it. Nothing is overwhelming. Everything is possible.” Will placed a cool hand against Hannibal’s chest, and felt the weak thud of his heart. In that moment, he was decided: Hannibal would die for the final time tonight. Will would bite over his heart, sink his teeth into the fluttering muscle and drink deep. And if their stars aligned and their blood was true, he would arise the next day burning brighter than the sun. “You don’t need to be concerned, Hannibal. You’ve never really been human. You can choose to love me or not.”

“Just as you have chosen?”

Will tilted his head and parted his lips, and let his fangs slide out on a purposeful exhale. “Yes,” he said, all teeth and covetous eyes.

“I fear my choice is already made,” Hannibal said, and he sounded just like he had miles away and months ago, patching up a savage bite mark on his arm, staring at Will’s reflection in his bathroom mirror and promising never to stop him.

“I know you’re just telling me what I want to hear,” Will murmured, mouth suddenly very close to Hannibal’s ear, “but it’s working. Maybe there’s truth behind it. Maybe there isn’t. I don’t care either way. You’re sly, and tricky. I like that about you. Base anger and pettiness was never very becoming of you.”

“What else do you like about me, Will?”

“I like your teeth. Fangs would look beautiful in your mouth. I like the way you walk. Your penchant for manipulation. The way you manoeuvred me back in Baltimore, serving me that fucking human steak, god… I don’t think it was even a truly conscious decision on your part. You just couldn’t help it. You slide people into these situations even when you have no reason to. You’re a snake.”

“Would that make you Eve?”

Will ran his lips over the fine skin of Hannibal’s neck, tracing the pattern of veins and the dip of muscle. “It was hardly Eden I was in, but you were my passage out into something new. Fuck, you smell so good. Take this off.” Will pulled at Hannibal’s sleeve, dragging it down to expose his shoulder and chest. His other hand still lay against Hannibal’s chest, and he began to move his fingers against Hannibal’s impossibly warm skin, desirous and possessive.

“Kiss me,” Hannibal said, and Will was on his mouth almost before the words had left his lips. “Bite me,” Hannibal said, and Will pulled Hannibal’s head back and sank his teeth into Hannibal’s shoulder. “Fuck me,” Hannibal said, and Will moaned into Hannibal’s skin.

Will gathered up Hannibal’s trailing robe and slung his arm under his knees. “Put your arms around my neck.”

Hannibal did as requested, and Will picked him up as though he weighed nothing at all. “I’m not fucking you on that damn couch. I’ve half a mind to burn the thing. I don’t ever want to see you sitting on it again,” Will said between kisses, the heat of Hannibal’s mouth too intoxicating to resist.

They made it to the bedroom, and Will threw Hannibal down on the bed with no great care for how he landed. He stripped quickly and inelegantly, and was back sprawling over Hannibal within seconds. He licked at the bite wound on Hannibal’s shoulder, a few sluggish drops of blood still leaking out, and then they were kissing again, Hannibal breathless and overheated.

Will was hard, harder than he’d been when Hannibal had sunk to his knees in Baltimore; harder than he’d been two hundred years ago in the middle of an orgy that still made him colour a little to think of it; harder than he’d been as a green boy in his first ever tumble in a haystack, feeling as though his whole body might explode.

Hannibal was half-hard at best. He doubted greatly his ability to maintain an erection, weak as he was after so many months of being drained of all his blood, and though Will kissed him thoroughly and rubbed his hard body luxuriously against him, Hannibal’s doubts proved correct.

“It doesn’t matter,” Will said, already working his way down Hannibal’s body. “It means now I can do this.” He took Hannibal’s soft cock into his mouth, dragging it delicately between his fangs; if Hannibal had been fully hard, his cock would’ve been too thick to safely fit and Will’s teeth would’ve torn it to shreds. Will laved his tongue over the pliable flesh, wrapping the lushness of his lips around the faintly swollen head and then pulling back to open his mouth wantonly and let the dangerous points of his teeth peek out.

“I would let you,” Hannibal breathed, staring at Will’s teeth where they hovered over his tender flesh. “I would let you do anything.”

Will smiled savagely, and licked a long stripe up the length of Hannibal’s cock. “Ask me when you’re changed.”

Will sat up then, and pushed up Hannibal’s legs from where they were splayed about his hips. He gave his own cock a few long strokes, then rubbed the head against Hannibal’s body, smearing pre-come between his cheeks. “Do you like it to hurt?” Will asked, already breaching gently with a finger.

“Spit on me once. That will suffice.”

“In all my years I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so filthy,” Will said, and then pushed Hannibal’s legs back further.

“I’m, ah, I’m sure you ha--” Hannibal’s words were cut short as Will let a long trail of saliva fall from his lips and land hot on Hannibal’s hole.

“Oh, I have heard plenty worse,” Will mused, pressing the head of his cock into Hannibal’s body and pushing in excruciatingly slow, “but, fuck, it’s your mouth that makes it sound so, so…”

Will fell forward onto his elbows and rolled his hips, and for the next few minutes words were put aside in favour of the fevered clutch of their hands, the crush of their lips, the push and pull of their bodies in tandem.

Will bent his head and bit gently into the flesh of Hannibal’s chest, directly over his heart. “What does that feel like?” he asked, his voice little more than a husky murmur.

“Like I want to die.”

“Good. Hold onto that.” Will sank his teeth further into the heaving muscle, sucking and licking at the blood that overflowed from the wound. Hannibal twined his fingers into Will’s hair, sighing and moaning at every swipe of his tongue and thrust of his hips. Truly, Hannibal couldn’t think of anything so transcendent, so purely blissful as this. He had thought that being hauled over his butcher block and drained like a sacrifice at the altar of Will’s godhood was the peak of ecstasy, but the memory of that first draining now faded into nothing. This was his true arrival, the moment he had sought his whole life before ever he knew that such a thing existed.

Will pulled his mouth away briefly, and bit his own wrist to let a spill of bright blood come forth. He held it against Hannibal’s mouth, urging him to drink, and then bit down anew into the meat of Hannibal’s chest. The pull was harder this time, Will drawing out great mouthfuls of blood every second, and Hannibal knew that he must drink deeply of Will in turn. He released a hand from Will’s hair and used it to hold Will’s wrist more firmly in place, difficult though it was to coordinate his limbs. He felt light as air and just as insubstantial, as though Will’s blood would fall into his mouth and through the back of his skull.

Even as his life began slipping away, Hannibal could feel the heat rising within him, though he could no longer tell if it was the warmth of Will’s blood dripping messy over his face or if it was the rushing tidal wave of his orgasm. Will was biting him, and he was fucking him, and he was killing him, and he was filling him with new life so that he need never die again.

Keeping Will’s bleeding wrist clamped to his mouth was a struggle. Hannibal barely had strength left to hold himself together any more, so he let his arms drop to the bed and let the blood smear over his face and trusted that Will would do what needed to be done.

The last bright image that seared itself into Hannibal’s mind was of Will above him, mouth dark and bloody and hanging open in pleasure as he spilled himself inside. The terrible searing light of him expanded and blinded and burned Hannibal up where he lay, a great flare in the darkness of existence as his human life crumbled to ash and drifted away on the winds of oblivion.

[lunaschild2016]

Worth Fighting For: Chapter 73- I Know Your Secrets

A/N: Sorry for the wait between chapters! Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: 'Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.' (James O'Barr, The Crow) V Roth is still Mother to this world and I am just one of the children singing my own tune into the night.

Rating M ( Language, Violence, There will be smut, Angst, Tragedy, Romance, Fluff) 

@kenzieam  @pathybo  @jaihardy @every-jai  @ericdauntless @beautifulramblingbrains  @bookgirlthings  @jojuarez26 @oddsnendsfanfics  @offroadinjandals  @singingpeople  @iammarylastar @irasancti  @captstefanbrandt  @clublulu333  @fuckthatfeeling  @tigpooh67 @ex-bookjunky  @jughead-wuz-here  @badassbaker  @beanzjellly @beltz2016  @meganbee15 @affabletimelady  @scorpio2009  @gylisaa @geekybeyondallreason @violetsonthelam @kyloswarstars@emmysrandomthoughts @kgurew @beltzboys2015-blog @slytherin-princess-25273  @whatwouldbuffydo666  @jaiboomer11  @holamor @wealwayskeepfighting  

**I promise I have put the read more option in but it has been glitching.**

Chapter 73 - I Know Your Secrets

Kat

I can hear the whispers of the nurses as they move around my darkened room. It’s late and I should be resting now that the flurry of activity, from the moment I was wheeled into the hospital, had died down completely. I looked much worse than I really had been but there had been no telling that to any of the three that had found Al and I locked in battle. If Raze hadn’t been there I am pretty sure Eric would have hauled me off to his apartment first. The stab wound on my side had been enough of a motivator for them to take me to the cities hospital right along with Al.

I was so stupid holding back like I had but at the time I had the goal in mind. Get information from Al by baiting him while also stalling enough to let someone witness him attacking me. I knew there was a timer counting down until someone went after me after I didn’t go back to the fear landscape room so I knew someone would come, I just couldn’t guarantee who it was going to be. Really, it didn’t matter to me who saw only that a witness was there to back me up. So I held out. I didn’t even strike first, honestly. That was Al. Did I say something that I hoped he would get pissed about and lash out? Absolutely. But I could honestly say, physically, I did not attack the coward.

I hadn’t even pulled my own knife at any time during the altercation, preferring to get in some really good damage to him with everything that Eric had taught me. I was being a combination of cautious and cocky and that was what got me the knife in my side. He pulled his own from his pants and I had hesitated, torn between taking my own out or removing the one he had and turning it on him. The hesitation had been enough to make the decision to remove the knife before he could use it useless. He was able to use his height and weight to stab me in my side during the struggle before I was able to break free and then retreated. I prevented him from getting me too bad but it had been bad enough.

I huff out a breath of anger and annoyance at myself that turns into a moan. The older nurse turns to look at me and her eyes narrow as I bite my lip. When she turns back to her co-nurse I can hear her whispering again about Eric. For what seems like the millionth time I hear the word sadistic. My fist clenches to my side as I grit my teeth together to keep in the scream I want to let loose.

Eric’s order that I am to receive no heavy pain medications has all the nurses in the area hissing his name under their breaths. One was even brave enough to say something along the lines of it being only logical considering he is one of Jeanine’s. Oh, that had me almost launching myself off the table in fury.

The person I am most angry at regarding what has the nurses all bent out of shape is myself. Because the only reason he gave that stupid order was that he knew it was what I wanted. It damn sure isn’t what he wants, no matter how livid I know he is with me right now. I knew it killed him to leave me like he did know I was going to be in pain. There was nothing for it though. I knew the second I saw Jack in the corridor that both Al and I were going to be questioned and truth serum was going to be administered. I couldn’t risk being doped up and trying to fight the serum if I needed to. I know Eric saw that too. I wish he had been able to stay in the room for the questions but he wasn’t. He along with the others were on the other side of the glass listening in as Jack, Raze, Chase, and Zach all questioned me in regards to the events. I had been able to lie but I hardly needed to. Every question asked I was able to say with truth even if it wasn’t the entire truth.

I am not sure what trouble I am in. Everyone was stoic and I think to wait until they could question Al. I had messed him up pretty badly even though I had tried to hold back. I had come close to losing it a few times and I can admit that when I did was when he got the better of me. I had been trying to taunt him into giving me something of why he did what he did. The only clear thing was he blamed me for everything and that he was obsessed with Tris, maybe even had always been.

Al had been on the verge of telling me before Raze jerked him off of me and knocked him out cold. Part of my goal was achieved, by all appearances he looked like the attacker. He was the one with the knife to my throat spitting down on me in his rage while he was trying to finish me off. Screaming his guilt about the first attempt on me. That alone was worth it.

They should have been done questioning him hours ago but I still haven’t heard from or seen any of them. I know a guard is posted outside of my room. I hear the nurses grumbling when he checks everything and anything they bring in to give me.

I keep hoping that someone will come in and tell me something before the sleep medication I heard being ordered and approved is given to me. I know my time is up when the younger nurse turns to me with the syringe in her hand and a well-meaning smile on her face.

“This will only take a few minutes to fully take effect and then that should help you sleep through most of the pain.”

I grumble out thanks even though I wish I could rip the IV out. I watch as the solution slowly gets plunged and makes its way through the short clear tubing where it will travel along the plastic inserted into my vein. I feel the rush of it marking its path until it joins with the blood flow and is lost to me. A part of my mind is analyzing everything occurring with my body, reasoning it out as I start to lose control, trying to keep myself from panicking at the loss of control. As my eyes become droopy and my body both feels heavy and relaxed; the panic that was building starts to fade and I have a hazy thought that they probably gave me some kind of calming serum or anxiety medicine because the panic fades until just peace invades me. I am out whether I want it or not and can only hope the god-awful dreams from the past few weeks don’t visit me in an Erudite run facility of all places.

Luck or something seems to be with me because for once in I can’t remember how long I don’t dream at all. Or if I do I don’t remember.

Candor Justice Complex

Uploading of classified materials. Authorization:  Leaders Only with Level Five Clearance- Jack Kang, Max Cornell, Andrew Prior, Eric Coulter

Accused: Kat Prior

Administered Truth Serum via IV under the supervision of Jack Kang of Candor and Dauntless Leaders: Raze and Eric

Additional witnesses:

Candor: Jane Connor and Wesley Smith

Dauntless: Four Eaton and Chase Oldham

Jack Kang: Kat Prior, you are being administered truth serum so that your role in the incident that occurred today at approximately 1117 hours. I caution you not to fight the serum as it could further exacerbate your injuries and cause considerable pain. Do you understand what I have said?

Kat Prior: Yes, I do.

Jack Kang: State your full name, please.

Kat Prior: Kat is the name that I have chosen for Dauntless but my birth name is Mary Katherine Prior.

Jack Kang: Your faction of birth?

Kat Prior: Abnegation.

Jack Kang: You are currently in training to become a member of Dauntless, correct?

Kat Prior: Yes, I am.

Jack Kang: Thank you for helping us to establish that the serum is working. Now we will move on to the incident at Dauntless in the dorm room. You were found engaged in a struggle with Albert West. Did you initiate the altercation?

Kat Prior: No. I did not.

Jack Kang: There is a reason to believe that Albert was the one that had previously attacked you as well as your sister, did you have any prior knowledge of this?

Kat Prior: I had no reason to think, before today, that Al would have ever been involved in any kind of act of aggression, much less towards my sister. He was always very reluctant and vocal about his distaste and distress in regards to being violent at all. He also seemed to look up to or care for my sister greatly.

Jack Kang: You had never had any previous altercations with him or witnessed him being aggressive?

Kat Prior: No. The first time I saw Al behaving that way was today during the attack.

Jack Kang: The two of you were in the dorm alone at a time when you were supposed to be attending training. Witnesses say that you left to go to the bathroom. How is that you ended up in the dorm?

Kat Prior: I left the room where the fear landscapes were being held and intended to go to the restroom. I was feeling unsettled from the previous night and wanted to wash my face. I can’t explain why I bypassed any other restrooms other than I just went to where I was most familiar with. The two places I most commonly use since my time coming to Dauntless are either the Transfer dorm room or the restroom near the Dauntless-born training room.

Jack Kang: Can you explain why there was a knife on your person at the time of the attack?

Kat Prior: After the attack on me in the dorm while I was sleeping I began to feel exposed. Shortly before the attack on my sister, I managed to sneak a knife away during our training exercises. I felt better when I had it on me. It was a bit like I felt prepared should anything or anyone else attack me. It was instinctual in a way. We have all been being trained day in and day out to be prepared to act. I wanted to be prepared.

Jack Kang: Yet when you were attacked, and you saw that Al had a knife and had used it, you did not draw your own?

Kat Prior: I honestly was surprised at his attack. I can freely admit I thought and still think he is a coward. By the time he had pulled his own knife, there was no point in me pulling mine, not to mention I didn’t think of it. I was focused on trying to keep his from me and getting him down as quickly as I could.

Jack Kang: Did you have the intention to kill Albert West?

Kat Prior: No, I had no intention of killing him. When he attacked I was only thinking about stopping him. He had already admitted to me that he was behind both attacks and I knew that Leadership needed to handle this. Although I can admit now, that had it come down to it and there was no other way, I would have protected myself by any means.

Raze: It has been brought to our attention by an accusation that you were given the knife by a member. Is this true?

Kat Prior: Absolutely not. No one but me knew I had the knife and I wanted it to stay that way. That was what made me feel safer. That no one would expect me to have a knife to protect myself. That was the only purpose of my having the knife. For the feeling of safety and protection, it gave me and the knowledge that should anyone attack me I would have something to defend myself with. No one gave me the knife or had any knowledge of my having it.

Jack Kang: We are done with questioning. Thank you for your Candor.

Questioning concluded. Investigation pending and under the purview of the faction the subject belongs to. Candor has concluded that the subject was defending themselves and as such there was no criminal intent.

Dauntless will take the matter further as per their own factional laws.

Eric

I watched the ice blue eyes of Jeanine Matthews as she absorbed the document before her and made sure to keep my face clear of any emotion. It was too early to feel smug but I could already see her frustration and anger behind that icy exterior she likes to maintain.

There had been no keeping things from Jeanine now. Not with this last attack and the information that leaked it had to do with both Prior girls but also hints that somehow Marcus Eaton was involved. We had known this was going to happen and that she was going to want to be updated. There was also no way that it could be kept from the other leaders of all factions any longer. The investigation had gotten to that point.

We had the bastard. It had come at the cost of yet another goddamn attack on Kat, but it had gotten the job done. Al had spilled everything and under the truth serum had admitted, with no small amount of pain, that Marcus had been behind it all.

It was a good thing they hadn’t let me in that room by myself and that Zach, as well as Chase, had been there with me. They had helped me keep my shit together when it all came out. I don’t know how Four was able to manage it.

I frown as I look around at the others with me at the table when a thought hits me in regards to Four. Because for the life of me, I don’t remember him being in the room when I stormed out after Al was done spilling his guts. In fact, I can’t remember him heading back to the compound for the fucking meetings we have all been stuck in since leaving the MedCenter. It is early in the morning the day after Kat and Al fought but there have been several meetings already, having begun at dawn and I don’t remember Four being in one of the ones he should have been in.

I would ask the others but now isn’t the time. Right now, in this private meeting with Jeanine, Max, James and myself; it is all about the fact that Jeanine isn’t liking what she is hearing in regards to Kat. She has been passing all markers and tests that are given to those that might be divergent. Right now it is about making sure that it is driven home that Kat has become counted as removed from the list and distract the bitch with someone else she has it out for.

Jeanine purses her lips together and lays the paper containing the transcript from Kat’s questioning on the table. As soon as she heard about the attack she had sent out the demand for truth serum administration. It had worried the hell out me but it wasn’t something that could be bypassed anyways. We already knew we were going to have to give it to Al and I couldn’t rig it to make it look like I had given the serum to Kat without raising suspicion.

I had to stand by and hope that she would be able to resist. I had to hope that my telling the nurses not to give her any pain medication would help with that too. That had been the only reason I had given that order. To hell with knowing she wouldn’t have wanted it, at that point, I didn’t give a fuck about what she wanted. She sure as hell hadn’t given a thought to me not wanting to have her laying in that goddamn bed.

Either way, she was able to bypass the serum while still looking and sounding exactly like someone under the influence of it. It probably helped that almost every bit of her answers were true. The only one that was a lie she worked in with the truth so seamlessly that it hadn’t been noticeable to anyone. The only reason I knew it for the lie it was because I recognized my own damn knife.

Zach had pointed out to me as we were being forced to leave her at the MedCenter under guard that she had been truthful in everything else. I knew he was trying to calm me down and it worked somewhat but not fully. Because I knew what she wasn’t saying. She hadn’t gone there to kill him but she had sought him out purposely. She had meant to turn him over to us...to me...but not until she got her answers first. Not before she got her hands on him to get her own revenge and justice.

I know her too well and what she was going for. It was and is the exact same thing I would do. It still is leaving me feeling things that I am still struggled to handle fully.

Max clears his throat as Jeanine picks up a glass of water and takes a dainty sip. I know she is stalling for time to be able to come up with a plan to still keep Kat on the watch list.

“As you can see, given the normal indicators for divergence have failed to present themselves, as well as this new development; it is safe to say that we can move forward and remove the candidate from the list.” Max’s tone was unemotional and just matter of fact but he didn’t stop there. “Of course we can and will continue to be vigilant for the remainder of training. There are still the fear landscapes as well as the final test, and given the intensity of those if there is any divergence it will present itself then as it has before.”

Jeanine sets the glass down and looks over to Max before letting her eyes fall on me. “I will expect to be kept up to date on all matters regarding those in question from here on.”

I didn’t even bother giving any signs of agreement, having already decided to let Max handle this next little bit. It was this that had me itching with anticipation. All this time there has been this hold that Jeanine has had on Dauntless, on me, something dangling over our heads that has us making deals with the devil that she is. I don’t know what Max’s deal was or what his drive could be. What I do know is that after our meeting with Jack and Andrew, before the one we are having now, it felt like everything had changed.

I could almost see years worth of troubles, frustration, and burden, if not lifting from the older man’s shoulders at least that there was an end in sight after the final verdict.

Marcus Eaton was being removed from his position as a leader and then would stand trial for his numerous crimes.

We had done it. I knew that this would please Jeanine but I also saw the other side of that coin. With Marcus gone, there was a very strong chance that all the cards she had to get her way and have any kind of control over Dauntless, were going to disappear after his removal. There will have to be another leader elected and with all the deference and respect I saw from other leaders to Andrew Prior, I already knew who was likely to be chosen. If he was elected, there could be some real chance for change around here.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I missed the beginning of Max informing Jeanine of the new developments. By the time he is done, I can tell my guesses are correct. She is pleased but I also see in those eyes she is already calculating.

“I am assuming that the emergency council meeting that also included the request for all faction leaders or representatives present is to inform us of Marcus’ immediate removal?” Jeanine asks, knowing full well that is the case. That it is the protocol even if it has never had to be used before.

“Yes. There will also be the call for the immediate election of a new leader.” Max agreed without looking at her.

Did he guess how she would react to the possibility of Andrew being elected? Would his knowing or at least suspecting her obsession with the Prior’s change how he might vote, for fear of rocking the boat with her?

“I see.” Is her simple reply with her lips thinned.

The loud sounding of my phone alerting me to code 240 possibly 217 pierces the strained quiet. The codes are both indicators of an assault but the second one notes that there might have been an intent to kill. The only time we use codes is if it would be a high profile or priority incident. Where details cannot be given over message but would need to be given in person.

Once again I am leaving a meeting, to the obvious and vocal displeasure of Jeanine, but this time I head with Chase to Control.

He beat me by seconds and is already barking out orders as soon as we reach the secured area. Zeke is in there furiously working on the monitors.

“Report.” Chase snaps out formally before I can get to it.

Zeke’s head snaps up and he takes us in, maybe looking for anyone else that might be behind us. It strikes me once again, that I am not seeing Four. He should be here already and especially right now.

For a second I forget why I am even in control as the thought that maybe he snuck back to the MedCenter strikes me, and suddenly I have rage flowing through me at the thought of him alone with Kat.

Then the report Zeke is giving Chase and I registers.

“There was an attack, it looks like by some factionless, in Abnegation last night.” He gets out in a strained tone and I can see the worry in his eyes.

For a moment, time stands still and I all I can think is that Marcus got to Andrew and Natalie. All I can think is that I have failed Kat and how she is going to react to this news.

“Details. Now.” Chase barks out and is already moving on his own to the monitors and computers.

“Marcus Eaton never turned up at the Hub this morning and all attempts by phone or messages to reach him failed. A member was sent to check on him and found him unresponsive and in critical condition in his home.”

“Marcus Eaton?” I choked out in disbelief. “Marcus Eaton was attacked?”

Zeke nods and looks up to me, then I see his eyes slide past me to look over my shoulder. I turn my head and catch sight of a familiar figure. Four is standing in the doorway, fists clenched at his sides but otherwise silent and expressionless.

“You said that factionless are suspected?” I ask while my eyes are still locked onto Four’s.

“There was one person that came forward and said there had been some factionless men in the area earlier that day, just before dinner that had been confrontational to a few of the Abnegation women there. They did eventually leave but they were heard to be throwing back yelled threats as they left.”

Four looks surprised for a moment, relieved and pleased even before it is gone. Gone so quickly that if someone hadn’t been looking for it or any kind of reaction they wouldn’t have seen. But I did and I turned my head from Four to look at Chase.

“We’ll put together a team to go investigate. This will be classified just like the investigation into Marcus has been. Zeke, take Rob and head to the MedCenter to get more information on Marcus’ condition and post a guard there. Chase, you and I will head to the Abnegation sector and meet up with the group there.” I issue the orders and turn to face Four, who is still standing in the doorway. I debate for a second before I make a decision. “Four, take Wes and Cecil to the factionless sector and see what you can get on the group from the previous day. Also, pull any footage from that entire time until Marcus was found. See if we have anything that came up on our vid surveillance.”

Four gives me a tense nod but I am already moving on to the next step. My phone is out and I have updated Jack and Max. I will let Max handle if he wants to inform Jeanine or not and also contacting Andrew.

I am typing as I walk beside Chase. My thoughts are running a million miles a minute but there is one big question on my mind. Would Four actually have had the balls to pull something like that off?

Chase and I take a transport ourselves, with him driving. We aren’t ten minutes out of the complex when he speaks up from beside me, his voice quiet but firm. “It was Four.”

My head was buried in my phone, sifting through all the information and all the intel that is being fed to me via messages. Four did the surveillance portion of my orders, but as expected there isn’t shit on the cameras that give us a clue to who might have pulled off the attack.

I pull my face away from the screen and look over to Chase. “It if it was then that would be putting more weight to those peanuts he is passing off as his balls.” I scoff with a smirk. “The more likely story, the one I know we are going to confirm when all is said and done,” I say meaningfully, “...is that it was factionless.”

Chase glances at me and a ghost of a smile lift the corners of his mouth. He knows what I am doing but he isn’t going to say it. He better not say it anyways. Because fuck if I am doing this for goddamn Four. I just know it would kill Kat if fucking Tobias went to jail for doing what we all want to do.

What I wanted to do and would have...eventually. I can give him a pass for taking away the pleasure I would have had for that deed because in the end it just did me the favor of getting him out of the picture as a threat to Kat and her family. I refuse to let this make me like or respect him.

[brittysaucefanfic]

Operation: Voltron

Part 20

Lance

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Lance's breath is caught in his throat as he waits.

Sendak has his full attention as he looks Lance over. Lance likes to think that curious deja vu look has nothing to do with Lance himself. He prefers not thinking about the consequences if Sendak actually recognized him. Sendak takes his sweet time looking him over, or maybe time has just slowed for Lance. Like a cliche slow motion shot in a movie.

"You must be the man we talked to about a job earlier." Sendak says, looking away and turning back to the doorway Lance stands in. He gets the hint, and lets it swing shut behind him before stepping forward with a cocky smile, heart racing so loud in his ear he feels like the people can hear his fear from it.

"That's me, what are we looking at exactly?" Lance says, stepping forward more with all the cocky confidence he could muster. Leandro, his alias for the mission, was a cocky asshole who objectified women and had a penchant for irritating people. So like his normal self, but ten times worse.

"What's your name?" Someone asks harshly beside Sendak. A brute of a man stands beside Sendak, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Lance recognizes him, from a file he was given by Keith before this all started. Apparently they had been able to get some people on the inside of Zarkon's operations. This guy was called Antok, another alias. The bottom half of his face was covered in a mask.

Lance makes sure to wipe his expression of any recognition.

"The name's Blue Lion, but you can call me Leandro." Lance says, chucking his hip out and reaching into his jacket to pull out a toothpick to chew it. Like he said, asshole. Had to be the biggest asshole on this planet. Someone else speaks, standing closer to Lance than Sendak. There's four of them, Sendak, Antok, this guy and a woman.

"I thought the Blue Lion was caught and arrested by the FBI?" The guy says, slim with a creepy looking face. Eyes just a little to wide to be normal, smile sharp, and teeth even sharper, like vampire fangs. A shiver tries to break through, but Lance cools it with a smile. He picks his toothpick out of his mouth and uses it to point at the guy.

"Amateur, the real Blue Lion, me, would never be caught." Lance says. He hears a snort in his ear and fights off the urge to scowl at Pidge, clacking his teeth hard, making Pidge hiss. She had outfitted Lance with a very discreet ear piece, shoved so far into his ear that if he rubbed his ear, it would probably harm his eardrum. He also had a tooth microphone, and the latest of contact lens cameras. If Pidge typed into the lens thingies he would see floating words in front of him.

It was a last resort, didn't want Lance to be caught reading thin air.

The group seemed to take it as it was, moving on and laying out the plans for the heist. It seems more complicated than necessary. The woman was to charm her way close to someone with a key pass into the building and swipe it off him, then give it to the creepy guy to use to get the truck into the gates. Antok was chosen to run the cameras on loop for five minutes while the heist went down.

Lance would be smuggled into the building, and had less than five minutes to get the jewels and get back to the truck without being seen. Easier said than done when he realized they left a lot of pertinent information out, that Lance already knows of from Keith. Which includes hand and eye scanners, and a layer of personnel guarding the warehouse, then he had to locate the jewels and get through it all backwards and back to the truck.

Within five minutes.

The heist was to go down tomorrow night. So Lance had until tomorrow night to prepare his tools and knowledge for a heist he wasn't ready for. It isn't the first time Lance has had to do rush jobs, but this was just a bit insane. Lance agreed anyways, despite the glint in Sendak's eye promising him much misfortune if failed.

The thought of what Sendak would do to him if he saw past the cocky smile sent a surge of impractical panic through his chest. He could feel it tightening on the way back to the Castle, heart pumping faster than normal. He's pretty sure he's having a slight panic attack. And why wouldn't he? Sendak physically clamped a hand over the creepy guy's mouth to avoid giving Lance the information he needed for a heist. Which probably meant Lance was recognized. Which was bad. And panic inducing.

Lance marched back into the castle, ripping out his contacts and pulling out his ear piece before the entire team was inside the building. He marched over to the workbench Pidge and Hunk uses, setting the devices down more gently then the anxiousness in his veins suggested possible. The tooth would have to be taken out by Pidge, lest Lance ruin the technology. This team may be a well payed and government sanctioned operation, but Lance doubted they had all the money in the world. 

Lance paced around the room, rubbing his hands together, babbling in a mix of languages. He had no control over what he was saying, breakdowns like this rarely allow him to make coherent sentences in a chosen language, despite his mind being clear. He could hear the sounds of footsteps cautiously tracing his path as he worked from one wall to the other, mind working like a freight train. 

“Lance?” Allura asked, her accent slipping, making the alias sound more like ‘Lonce’. Lance ignored her probing question, preferring instead to keep pacing, but he halted as he came face to face with Shiro. Shiro seemed to actually look concerned, but Lance doubted he really cared. Lance was a criminal, and the person who tormented his brother for three years.

"What's wrong Lance? Why are you so anxious?" Allura said, now standing behind him. Lance whips around, knowing that Allura was the one he should be wary of the most out of everyone. He knows what she did, what caused her to leave the military. He knows just how dangerous she really is. His breathing picks up again and his eyes unfocus.

Is he hyperventilating? Probably.

"Because he recognized me! Sendak recognized me, he had to of. And that's bad, for everyone, but especially for my health." Lance said, throwing his hands in the air then bringing them down to start chewing on his nails. Which sucks, because he just got them done not too long ago. He broke away to babble again. He should really stop that.

Lance stepped around Allura and continued pacing.

"I spent years making sure that guy thought I was dead, that he finished the job." Lance said, so quietly he was positive no one could hear him. But he didn't care, he just wanted to get out of here. Take off the anklet like he's so tempted to try, and go off the grid. Collect every dollar he's stashed away and live on a farm or something. Retire.

But Keith would hunt him down.

Right? He's been so vigilant, tracking Lance's every move, hunting him down like the BloodHound he's named after. Maybe Lance will never be free, always forced to look over his shoulder and live a life of secrecy. He's on the verge of a complete mental breakdown when he's forced to a stop.

Hands on his shoulders stop him in his tracks, clamping down hard. Not painful hard, but like forceful hard. And not forceful hard as in he has no choice but to obey, but forceful hard as in very persuasive. And not persuasive as in threatening, but persuasive as in relaxing. What was he doing again?

Right, freaking out, he forgot.

The hands on his shoulders force him to turn, and dark violet pools fill his blurry vision. It only takes a second of looking into those eyes to clear his eyesight up a little bit, no longer caught in a panic induced meltdown.

"Breath." Keith says. A simple and lonely word, which should be useless against the state Lance was spiraling into. Keith demonstrates by breathing really loud and slow, and Lance knows what he's doing. But he soon finds himself sucking in a deep breath, the tightness on his chest loosening, as he breaths in time with Keith's. Keith nods, slowly, and after a moment Lance nods back. He can breath again.

"Better?" Keith asks.

Lance takes a second to calm his frazzled nerves, sucking in slow breaths to calm down. His arms drop to his sides, now that he wasn't chewing away a nice manicure. It takes a moment, but Lance musters up a shaky smile.

"What are you, a one word wonder Kogane?"

Keith cocks an eyebrow then snorts, clapping Lance lightly on the shoulder.

"At least we know you aren't broken anymore. Now let's get you prepared for a heist." Keith says. Lance huffs in indignation, but he dutifully follows Keith's lead, prodding at the man to start up an argument. Something about hippos maybe, Lance doesn't care. Nor does care for the eyes following his movements across the room.

******

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[matthewaaronthacker]

Ciudad de Mexico

There are an estimated 70,000 prostitutes in Mexico City. Somewhere between 2500 and 5000 of those are under the age of eighteen. Some of these women and children are refugees and runaways tricked with the promise of a job and a future. Some of these women and children are physically kidnapped. The children frequently are forced into prostitution by a parent or other family member. Many of them are forcefully drugged until they become addicted which improves compliance with their captors and pimps. Some of them are expected to turn upwards of eighteen “tricks” (sexual acts) a day just to keep from owing their pimps money. While they work the streets they are continually watched by “falcones” - men paid by the pimps to prevent the girls from running away. Misconduct results in beatings. Sometimes beatings are just a part of everyday life. I just returned from a mission trip to Mexico City, and these women and children, along with the missionaries there serving them daily, are the people we went to serve.

The story of our Mexico mission trip begins before we even set foot on a plane. Just a few weeks before we’re scheduled to leave there is a major miscommunication (due either to translation issues or cultural communication quirks) between our team and the Mexico City team that threatens to blow up the whole trip. About two weeks before we’re scheduled to leave, I wake up with a stuffy nose, headache, and dizziness. "Allergies" I thought, no big deal. A week goes by and things get worse rather than better. I’ve got a sinus infection. I have never, in my entire life, had a sinus infection. About four days before we’re set to leave I start taking a heavy-duty antibiotic which destroys my stomach - Montezuma’s revenge before I even get to Mexico. About a week before we’re set to leave, one of our number starts running a high fever with several other unexplained symptoms earning him a trip to the doctor and a test for Lyme disease (thankfully negative). He goes on heavy duty antibiotics a couple of days before the trip. His fever only breaks the day before we’re set to leave. Another of our number has passport issues. He has to drive to Atlanta the day before the trip and stand in line at the passport office to hopefully get one printed right then and there. The day before we’re set to leave, the leader of our mission trip has sudden unexplained jaw pain. His face swells up like he’d been punched. He gets in to see a doctor the morning before we get on the plane and gets heavy duty antibiotics for an infected parotid gland. I’ve always had difficulty with spiritual warfare. I “believe” in it, on an intellectual level, but it’s hard in everyday life to acknowledge that circumstances are ever more than just coincidence. In this case though, it’s obvious that something is actively working against this trip, and that was a new experience for me.

The mission we went to serve is called El Pozo de Vida - The Well of Life. They have offices and ministries all around Mexico City specializing in three areas: Prevention, Intervention, Restoration. From their main offices, they run a company called Nunayu, a restoration project, where they teach former victims of sex trafficking to make and sell jewelry. Using virtual reality goggles, I watched the story of a Bangladeshi woman, 23, forced into prostitution at age nine by her mother. She was given drugs to make her develop more quickly. The drugs and the hard life make her look fifty instead of twenty-three. There is a safe home for underage girls rescued from sexual slavery. The roof of this building is trimmed with razor wire. The doors to the outside require keys to open. Visitors aren’t allowed cell phones. These precautions are in place to protect the girls from themselves as much as from outsiders. These children are so severely brainwashed that they will borrow or steal cellphones from visitors to call their pimps. They want nothing more than to return to their previous lives. El Pozo works to provide restoration for these girls. They provide for their physical well-being through free medical care and a live-in nurse at the home. They address their emotional and psychological well being through individual and group therapy sessions. They tend to their spiritual needs through daily prayer and Bible study and they attend church services, though only in small groups of two or three – girls have attempted to escape at church before. El Pozo tries to give these girls a normal teenage life. While we were there we got to celebrate a quinceanera (15th birthday) for one of the girls. I’m not a dancer, but it is customary for all the men at a quinceanera to dance with the birthday girl, so I did – extremely poorly. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time for most of our dance and she stepped on my toes more than once. It made her giggle and blush and it felt good to me to be the reason her and her friends were laughing. El Pozo has a second home for women who are over seventeen. This transition home is free while the women are working or going to school. Finding a job is difficult for a former prostitute. Pimps and johns don’t make good professional references. This ministry cares so tangibly for these women that they do not stop with rescuing and offering housing. They reach out to local businesses and make connections so these women can get jobs and earn livings.

God often orchestrates situations to accomplish many things at once and in the moment, most individuals involved only see one little sliver of that grand design. As with spiritual warfare, I “know” that but rarely recognize or acknowledge it when I experience it. I take a medicine that is quite effective at dealing with my chronic depression but has the unfortunate side effect of increasing my anxiety. Our first day in Mexico City, the fifteen of us piled into a van with no air conditioning to visit the El Pozo offices. It’s not hot in Mexico City. It rarely gets above 84°F the whole year, but fifteen people packed in with instruments and bags and no air conditioning in barely moving traffic... things get pretty hot. I made the mistake of sitting in the very back of the van nowhere near any open window. When air gets hot and stale around me I start to feel claustrophobic. In this instance, I was fighting with every thought and prayer against the onrush of panic. I was too embarrassed about being on the verge of a panic attack to ask anyone to pull over. I was on the brink of screaming and diving over seats in attempt to find fresh air when the van suddenly stopped, dead, in the middle of a Mexico City street. We were out of gas. I was ecstatic to be among the ones piling out to push the van a quarter mile or so down a busy street to the nearest gas station. I see this as God’s orchestration for at least two other reasons. It was an excellent team building exercise. At the end of the week, one of our number said, "on every mission trip I've been on, there's always at least one person about whom I'm thinking I've had just about enough of this person and just need to get away but there's no one like that on this trip". Everyone else agreed. Secondly, our guide, Rodrigo, (who was driving the van) said he was scared to death about what we'd think or do when the van ran out of gas. Presumably, there are some mission teams that would have just sat on the side of the road while he tried to get a tow truck out there. Because of our take-whatever-comes attitude, Rodrigo said we were one of the best teams they’d ever had.

I woke one morning in Mexico City feeling a strong desire to get just the guys together and share my story of sexual sin. I struggled most of my adult life with an addiction to pornography. This addiction was so strong that I even carried it secretly into my marriage. By God’s grace, I have been free from the bonds of that addiction for many years now, but there are permanent scars in me and in my marriage. However, I’ve chosen not to be ashamed of it anymore. It is probably the most powerful part of my redemption story. It is a wonderful testament to God’s power to rescue and to redeem. I didn’t fully realize it until after I’d gathered these men together and shared with them, but every time that I’ve shared my story with others God has moved powerfully in some way. Men have chosen to open up and confess their own struggles. Men have chosen to fight back in ways they never could before. Men have even been rescued completely from their own addictions. God’s strength is made perfect and glorified through my weakness. (2nd Corinthians 12:9, paraphrased obviously)

Pornography, like prostitution, is a form of human trafficking. Despite the illusion the of proud “porn star” in America, most girls and women do not engage in pornography willingly. Though somewhat indirectly, my problems with porn had contributed to the enslavement of the women at El Pozo. Lust, pornography, adultery, prostitution – these are not different sins. Jesus said so: “But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart” Matthew 5:28. These are all just different points on single sliding scale of sin. When we asked the people working for El Pozo “what can we do to help?” the overwhelming answer was “go back to America and try to change the culture”. America is the biggest driver of the problem. It would take several books to fully explain that but here’s a quick stab at it. Sex trafficking is an economic problem. The use of pornography generates revenue and it generates demand. There is an economic pressure produced by consuming pornography on the Internet that incentivizes both women and traffickers to get involved. And that economic pressure doesn’t stop with pornography. Many who utilize prostitutes started with pornography. If there’s money to be made enslaving girls for porn, there’s money to be made enslaving them for prostitution. America is the largest consumer of online pornography by a huge margin. America by-and-large creates the economic demand that drives human sexual trafficking. If we could change that culture, we could literally change the world.

In America, prosperity dulls the shine of the miraculous. Dulled glory brings about dulled passion. Dulled passion diminishes hope and expectation in God's future graces and redemptive works. The women who work in this ministry are passionate. They have hope in God's future plans. They have faith in His strength to carry out those plans. They go boldly into the darkest places, not because they feel they are bringing the light into those places, but because they are obediently following the Light that's already on Its way there. When they speak of the love of Christ they do so without a shred of doubt because they witness it daily. "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few" (Matthew 9:37) In our short week there we saw hundreds of prostitutes, and dozens upon dozens of their enslavers (pimps, falcones, johns). Maybe thirteen or fourteen people working daily to free them all. Jesus' heart is for the enslaved, and the people of El Pozo are His hands and feet in a part of the world rampant with literal slavery. "He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners" Luke 4:18/Isaiah 61:1.

Because of the work they are doing, the people of El Pozo have a unique perspective on the power of forgiveness. They walk with women who were kidnapped or forced into prostitution by a parent, sometimes before the age of ten, women who were forcibly drugged, who were raped multiple times a day for years. They see these women give their hearts over to Jesus, and they see them forgive. I struggle to forgive the old lady who merges onto the interstate at 40mph and these women forgive their parents, their captors, their pimps, their rapists. That's a powerful act. That's a level of grace I find hard to even imagine.

The most impactful time on the trip, the most surprisingly, selflessly, good act I witnessed was the El Pozo Block Party. Once a month, the people of El Pozo, along with sixty to eighty volunteers from all over Mexico City and mission trips from all over the world, bring food, drinks, music, and gifts into one of the most spiritually dark and dangerous parts of the city. At 9pm on Saturday night we walked down to the heart of the La Merced marketplace. At this time of night all the street vendors are gone, all the sidewalk shops locked by graffiti covered steel rollups. There’s a 12’ high chain-link fence separating the sidewalk from the street. Along that fence, dozens and dozens of men are lined up. Some are johns, some are pimps and falcones, and, perhaps strangest of all, some are there just to watch. Along the steel covered shops there are dozens and dozens of prostitutes. Military style police vehicles drive back and forth down the street all night with lights flashing. A group of twenty or more police officers in tactical gear marched by in formation. The sun has set and the street lights are few and far between. It’s dark in all the ways a place can be dark. But here, like a tiny candle flame in this vast ocean of darkness, is this group of sixty or so people just having fun. This wasn’t evangelism. There were no street preachers, no pamphlets or Bibles being pushed into people’s hands. Just a group of people handing out hotdogs and churros to the pimps and johns, carrying long stemmed flowers with notes of encouragement to the working girls, groups walking down the side streets inviting anyone they passed to the party, teenagers painting little kids fingernails (the children of the prostitutes), a six foot tall white girl with flaming red hair laughing and talking with the dirtiest homeless guy you’ve ever seen, gringos trying desperately to remember anything from 12th grade Spanish 2, three guys with guitars, microphones, and a PA system that had no power because there was nowhere to plug it up… it was amazing. El Pozo treats this block party like it’s their neighborhood. Like they’ve just invited all their best friends over for a backyard barbeque. There’s no judgement or animosity, no calls to repentance or haughty eyes looking down on the sinners. Just Jesus’ love poured out on those most in need.

I'm a cynic. It is an area of great sin in my life. I confess that my judgy inner-monologue has often gone like this: Oh, you spent three grand to fly to a poor country and give some poor kids Bibles? Now you're a 'new man' in Jesus and you're going to go on two mission trips a year because you've had a 'mountain top experience'? This trip made it clear to me that, yes, that's exactly how it's supposed to happen. God expects us to go and be refilled by encounters with Him. That's part of why we go to church every week. We should go on mission trips as often as we're able, not just because the poor kids need the Bibles, but because we need to give the Bibles. I already had a heart for helping people deal with sexual sin, but this trip fueled that in a way nothing else ever has. There is a power in seeing with your own eyes. God moves something inside you when you physically touch someone who's been extraordinarily hurt by someone else's sin - your sin. Sure, that fire in me will wear off, but hopefully by then I'll be preparing to go back or go elsewhere and be filled up again.

I've struggled for over a month to write this. That is mostly because the experience was so amazing, so important, and no matter how hard I try, these words just seem to fall miles short of conveying that. Part of that is pride and part of it is fear of portraying something so important as uninteresting. When I think about the way God has moved in men's hearts whenever I've shared my story, I feel like He's saying to me "I'll do the work, you just start the conversation". In the same way, my words will never be adequate to describe what I experienced or to change minds about human trafficking or sexual exploitation, but here's my stab at starting the conversation. I'm so thankful that I got to go on this trip. I'm so grateful to God and to all those who supported me in prayer and financially for the profound experience I had. If you have questions or thoughts on this letter, sex trafficking, or pornography I’d love to hear them. It would be an honor to share more or talk with you about my trip or my experiences.

Thanks again for all your support!

If you’d like more information or want to support El Pozo de Vida, please visit their website http://www.elpozodevida.org.mx/