#i have disintegrated at an alarming rate

[that-random-ink]

Pride month is over

Wait no AAAAAAAAAA *Disintegrates*

[evesaintyves]

Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, rated M, eleven 200-word drabbles. Warning for mentions of abortion.

 She must have fallen asleep. She thinks it’s a fly crawling up her neck, for a minute, and nearly swats it before she realises it’s his mouth. Her heart gives a squeeze that is aching at the same time that it is sweet—how little it takes from him, these days, to wring a few drops of nervous hope from that tired old thing. But she turns to him, anyway, and they don’t speak but he kisses her a little, and fuck, there goes her gormless heart again.

Read it on Ao3.

I wanted to say a few things about what went into this fic below - and I will be talking about abusive relationships and abortion from a secular, pro-abortion-on-demand perspective, so if that's likely to trouble you I recommend giving it, and the fic, a miss.

This story is set around chapter 7 of Deathly Hallows, "The Will of Albus Dumbledore," when Lupin and Tonks leave Harry's birthday party to avoid being seen by Rufus Scrimgeour. This period of canon gives us several glimpses into how Lupin & Tonks's relationship is going and it strikes me as a really scary and unsafe time for Tonks. Lupin's unhappiness is so evident even Harry notices it, while she's described as "radiant," - meaning pregnant, but also that they're clearly not on the same page. Around this time we see Tonks facing some of the disturbing realities of being married to Lupin: Bellatrix's pursuit of her in the battle of seven Potters, having to flee from her boss so he doesn't see them together. Tonks's mentor is dead (and we see when that happens that Lupin's not all that interested in supporting her as she's reeling from it), Tonks's family is pretty unhappy with her (according to Lupin), things are unraveling.

(I'd like to point you to two takes I really love on how off-kilter their interactions are right before this, around the time Mad-Eye dies: Fallen Warrior by @bikelock28 and Mandible by @saintsenara - both of these authors have had a huge influence on my writing and my thinking about hp canon.)

I've always been kind of obsessed with this particular moment between Lupin and Tonks - when we see Lupin seize Tonks by the wrist and haul her out of the burrow. It's an alarming interaction, to me, that suggests the possibility of a very frightening dynamic setting up between them. Tonks is an adult, she's aware of the consequences of being seen together. I'm not even convinced she had to leave in the first place instead of changing her appearance or just making herself scarce upstairs for a while. There's no argument that leads Lupin to grabbing her out of desperation - he just says bye to Harry and hauls her away. Not by the hand, like he's trying to keep her from tripping or something. By the wrist, so she can't let go, which seems even more likely to unbalance her. It's a dismissal of her autonomy at the very least, he's treating her a bit like a child, and it's probably quite embarrassing for Tonks. The way she makes excuses for it the next day, in the context of everything else we're seeing about this relationship, only makes it all seem unhealthier. If I witnessed this interaction between a friend and her new husband, I'd be checking on her.

And in the midst of this rapidly-disintegrating relationship with this escalatingly-discontent and reactive husband - Tonks is finding out that she's pregnant, something that will complicate things even further and tie her to a man who does not really seem to want to be with her.

This fic came to be as I was thinking about the way Lupin talks about Tonks in "The Bribe," when he reveals that she's pregnant and they've split up, in a way that respresents this development as something abhorrent and humiliating but also downplays his culpability for it: ...then Lupin said, with an air of forcing himself to admit something unpleasant, "Tonks is going to have a baby." And how devastating that attitude might be for a Tonks who is happily pregnant.

But we don't really know how happy she is to be pregnant. We never hear about it from her. We see her as radiant in an early appearance, sure, and the baby ends up getting born, but that's all we really have to go on. And I have to wonder what options Tonks might have had if she didn't want to be pregnant or wasn't sure. She'd have had access to a legal abortion through the muggle health system up to 24 weeks, but there's evidence in canon that wizards are fearful of and disgusted by muggle medical practices (e.g. Arthur's stitches in OoTP). And wizarding society seems pretty regressive in some respects: people get married and have children young, there's no mention of divorce or blended families or out-of-wedlock babies - and yes, that's also because these are childrens' books (and books that privilege a certain kind of familial love above all else) but this is the text and the universe we have to work with. Notably, the immortal human soul demonstrably exists in this world and I think it's pretty safe to assume that most people believe in it - it seems to be pretty common knowledge that a dementor can remove the soul from the body and that ability is encoded into the wizarding penal system. What does that mean for abortion access in that world? Do wizards believe that an embryo or a fetus is an ensouled person and that it would be murder, or something like that, to terminate it? Even if a magical abortion is legal, what are cultural attitudes toward it like under this belief system? How difficult or inconvenient is it? I'll leave the particulars of how the wizarding legal and medical systems function to someone smarter than me, but... I work in health care, and I've seen the ways that even vague or minor barriers to access - stigma, embarrassment, misinformation, wait times or travel requirements, the levels of executive function and emotional regulation required to keep multiple appointments and talk to a bunch of providers about a sensitive issue - mean that some people who need care won't get it. We don't really know if Tonks unreservedly chose to keep her pregnancy, or if she just didn't have meaningful access to another option, or if access was just hard or unpleasant enough that she didn't make a decision until it was too late.

There's a tendency in some Remadora fic— including one of mine, in a way I didn't think much about until later—to frame the hypothetical of Teddy being aborted as a regrettable tragedy, thankfully averted by the power of true love, and not as a reasonable response to the difficult circumstances and something everyone might have moved on from and been fine - and I think that's understandable. Teddy's important to trajectory of Tonks and Lupin's lives. It's okay to love these characters and want everyone to be as happy and whole as their situations allow. And I think that we have some (at least mildly gendered) expectations that of course our faithful Tonks wants to stay married, wants a child with the person she loves. But I wanted to depict this slice of their relationship with sympathy for a Tonks who is seriously considering ending her pregnancy - who has at least as much reason as Lupin to just want shut of the whole thing. I would have, in her position. I have seen friends locked into horrible situations with abusive partners by pregnancy.  I think you could argue that not having Teddy and getting out of that relationship might have meant a different outcome for Tonks in the battle of Hogwarts. And I think that it's entirely possible for Tonks to have wanted an abortion that she didn't end up getting - for whatever legal, cultural, or psychological reasons - and for Teddy to still have been a welcome and loved child when he was born.

Anyway, let me know what you think.

[image: from francis bacon, three studies of figures on beds, 1972]

[cybervesna]

One hundred-four degrees Fahrenheit

Type: One-shot (Dogtown Nights) Rating: Mature Relationship: Kurt Hansen/OC, Kurt Hansen/Wiosna Blazkowicz

Idk if someone's gonna read it, if so I hope you enjoy it.

Heavy smoke from his cigarette covered his view as he exhaled the substance from his lungs. Despite temporary blindness, his eyes were still focused on one place or rather a person. 

Right in front of him lies the object of his interest. Wires all over, allowing her to get lost in the depths of cyberspace. The netrunner most likely had no idea that she was being watched. Her boss was like an eagle preying on her defenseless body. 

But he doesn't want to hurt her, no. He's admiring and mesmerizing every inch of her. He's making sure that the movement of her cleavage caused by heavy breathing isn't out of order, and that the drops of sweat forming on her forehead evaporate as soon as they appear. 

He inhaled the deadly substance again and kept it in his lungs as he checked her vitals on his HUD. 

One hundred two degrees Fahrenheit. 

It wasn't alarming, yet a little too high for his liking. Two degrees more and an emergency cooling will freeze her. 

This time the smoke escaped through his nostrils, making him look like a dragon whose fire was responsible for the increased body temperature of his prey.

One hundred degrees Fahrenheit. 

Good, he thought. She either moved to lighter tasks or is about to dive out from the cybernetic void.

He observed her, carefully. The steady breathing was like a lullaby to his nerves. Calming, and reassuring nothing will happen, and he's just paranoid for having all the bad scenarios forming in his head.

One hundred four degrees Fahrenheit. 

***

It's hard to describe something that the human mind can't comprehend. Yet, somehow Wiosna could see everything in a simplified way, trying to make sense of the data around her. 

First was the darkness, and from it came light. No. The light was her. Or maybe she was the darkness? 

Lines of code disintegrated with every passing second, yet can she even measure time in such a place? And why is she staring right at herself? There are no mirrors in cyberspace. 

“Interesting. Emotions truly can be transferred into data.” 

She heard her own voice, but it wasn't her who said it. 

“You should vocalize your concerns.” Wiosna’s reflection insisted. 

“You already know what I'm going to say.” 

The vision fractionated into a glitchy matrix of data as it transformed itself into a red mist filling the void around the woman. There was something familiar about it, like an image she had seen before. The red mixed itself with the darkness in a way that resembled the northern lights. 

The entity inside her becomes stronger with every jump beyond the Blackwall. Grows like a parasite inside Wiosna's inner world. If it can take her form now, what else is it capable of doing? 

Being a menace to her for sure.

Wiosna felt how the rogue AI manipulated her code to cause some chaos. Nothing serious, just a few short circuits, and an overheat deamon. In Wiosna's opinion, it was meant to piss her off, rather than cause actual damage.

That's enough. Was the last thing echoing around them before the netrunner went back to the mortal realm. 

***

“Wiosna, for fucks sake, wake up!” Kurt screamed into Wiosna's face as he shook her shoulders. 

All the systems around them turned into an orchestra of alarms, loud enough that he didn't know if she could even hear him in this mess despite being inches away. 

Kurt held her cold, lifeless body in his arms. The drops of water on her face turned into frost because of emergency cooling. He knew that the purple shade of her skin was a result of preventing her from overheating, as most of the electronics in the room burned one by one. Regardless of all the logic, it planted in his head a scary question. 

What if she's already dead? Does life have any meaning without her?

He knows better than that. He's a soldier. There's no time for grieving in his life. 

Put yourself together, Hansen! 

Allowing himself to panic, even for a minute was unacceptable. But those intrusive thoughts were louder and louder in his head, as the mind tried to make a plan for every possible outcome of this situation.

Is that how Wiosna feels all the time?

Kurt remembered how Wiosna tried to describe to him what was in her head. Of course, he read all the reports on her state, but doing it in her own words felt more intimate. He wished she would describe him more. 

She has to, when she wakes up, right? 

His hands cupped her face and he took a moment to look at her once more. The only thing in the world that he cares more about than himself. She can't be dead. Kurt gently kissed her forehead and felt how his warm lips melted the frost it touched. 

“Hm... That made me warm inside.” 

He wasn't sure if he heard it, or if it was just his imagination. Kurt moved his head to look at Wiosna again. Her blue eyes were wide open, staring at him with sparkles between the ocean of blue. And of course a smirk on her face.

This fucking woman…

“I see you missed m-” 

But Wiosna never finished whatever she wanted to say, as Kurt's lips silenced her. At least for a second until she pulled him away. 

“Fuu! You just smoked!” She screamed in disgust. 

“You almost fucking died!” 

“What? I had everything under control.” 

Kurt dropped her face as relief on his face disappeared. 

“Control? Where? Where was your fucking control when your body hit one hundred six degrees!” 

“Please, like it's the first time…” Wiosna waved her hand as if she was casting a spell that silenced all the alarms.

Kurt observed as she sat on her chair and pulled out the plug from her deep dive port. He felt anger build up inside of him, yet at the same time, he couldn't be angry at her. 

“Do I mommy you whenever you go out for a mission? You think I don't worry you will get a bullet to the head? I do, but I'm not stopping you from doing your job. So don't stop me from doing mine.” 

“This is different.” He growled. 

“How so?” 

“I can't fucking protect you there.” Kurt's voice became deeper. Every other Bargest soldier would start praying for their life at the sound of it.

But Wiosna instead just rolled her eyes at him. “So you don't trust me that I can take care of myself?” 

“The fuck? I didn't say that!” Kurt touched the bridge of his nose as he thought about how to explain what he meant. The Colonel reached for the hand of his lover. It was still cold, as if she spent this whole time walking through Siberian snow without gloves. “I guess, I meant that three minutes ago I was freaking out, you're dead and all I could do was just hold your body. So I started to consider if I should kill myself too… It felt like I failed you.” 

Kurt hated that. Those moments of weakness when emotions take over logic. He hated how it only happened with her. Wiosna made him soft. She made him weak. And yet… He never felt better. Never felt stronger than with her by his side. 

He stared into her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the emotions behind them. But instead of that, he felt as her hand gently left his grasp. His eyes instantly looked at the place where it left a freezing sensation on his cyberware that he already missed. But he felt it again, this time on his cheek, as her palm guided Kurt to look at her once more. 

Nothing. Wiosna's emotions were encrypted better than the data she worked with. 

Kurt leaned into her touch, kissing the inside of her palm without breaking eye contact. It's when he noticed something. Wiosna's brows slightly went up, and her lips parted as a result of his action. And before he could do anything more, her cold lips were glued to his. 

Wiosna always kissed him as her life depended on it. Kurt learned by now, that maybe the face doesn't show much, but her kisses are a testimony of everything she feels. A language of passion, that she calls “talking without words”. He had to admit, as many lovers as he had, no one saw it that way. But he gets it. Wiosna's kisses are to die for. 

Even now freezing as she is, Wiosna spreads her fire on Kurt, burning everything on its way. And he doesn't want to fight it. Like flames dancing around each other, consuming everything on their way until there's no air. 

“You just complained I smoked!” Kurt gasped in between his heavy breaths. 

“Don't fucking remind me and enjoy this.” 

[insane-control-room]

altar

Joey comes to ask for forgiveness. He says he's sorry. Henry doesn't think that's enough.

RATED: T - suggestive comments/behavior, uncomfortable situations

WARNINGS: Emotional hurt, tied hands

Length: medium (1750 words)

Ao3 link here. REMINDER: you must be signed into Ao3 to read my work on the platform due to AI scrapers targeting my work.

inspired by this drawing by @twinktor-frankenstein :) go check it out its great :D

Joey stared at the man around the corner, his heart rate accelerating as he observed him. Henry was resting in a hammock, one leg off the side so that he could rock himself as he relaxed. Joey stared, and bit his lip, slowly finding that he was losing his nerve. He was about to slip away when an eye opened, immediately fixing on him. 

A wave of panic crashed over Joey, and he made a move to disintegrate and disappear, but it was too late for him. Henry had made it to him in less than five bounds, his calloused, firm hand wrapping around Joey’s exposed forearm. 

“Joey,” he greeted, smiling, but there was something uncomfortably cold about the flash of his teeth. “What are you doing here?”

Joey stared at him once again, throat dry, hands trembling. Henry’s smile was still bland and neutral, but with a frigid emptiness laying beneath it. It made Joey quite uncomfortable, rather perturbed by the lack of emotion on his old friend’s face. He looked at him quietly, brows furrowed as they stared at one another in silence. 

Henry’s hand tightened sharply on Joey’s arm. 

“I asked you a question. I expect you to answer,” he spoke slowly, clearly, that low voice making Joey want to tremble. “What are you doing here, Joey?” 

“I… I wanted to…” Joey looked to the floor, finally breaking his gaze from the other man. He steeled himself with a breath, though still could not bring himself to look at Henry. “I wanted to ask you to forgive me, Henry.”

“Forgive you,” Henry repeated, staring at him. His smile made his soul ache painfully, yearn to escape. “You’re here to ask me to forgive you.”

“Yes.” Joey said, simple and soft. “I am.” 

He was not sure what he was expecting. A punch in the face, maybe. Being shoved away with the door closing in front of him. Maybe even a good kick between the legs. 

Joey was not expecting laughter. It was low and amused, tranquil but with some darkness lingering on the edges of the mirth. It made Joey’s lungs constrict. Henry released his arm at last, and folded his arms as he looked at Joey, raising an eyebrow. 

“Forgiveness,” he commented, “Is less-”

“For the person you’re apologizing to, and more for yourself, I know,” Joey restrained himself from snapping at him. “Stop messing with me, Stein, and take me seriously. I’m sorry for what I did, okay? For all of this. It never should have gone down like this, and I never should have dragged you down with me- what are you doing.” 

Henry sighed, raising an eyebrow as he lifted the tie he had pulled from beneath his collar. Joey, unsure of what the man was playing at, frowned. Henry put his hand out, gesturing with four fingers once for Joey to put his arms forward. 

Joey did so, and was baffled by the loop Henry tightened around his wrists. It was loose, though, but Henry’s firm hand came to Joey’s arm once again when he tried to pull away out of instinct. A vague sense of alarm rippled through him, but he was confident that Henry would not harm him, resulting in a conflicted meld of emotions. 

“Henry-”

“On your knees.” Henry calmly demanded. Joey stared at him, and watched Henry’s eyes harden. Swallowing harshly, he opened his mouth to protest, only for Henry to cut him off again. “Do you want to be forgiven or not? Show me you mean it.” 

Joey’s mouth closed slowly, and he hesitated, glancing to the floor again. It came closer as he knelt down slowly, discomfited but trying to put on a brave face (he was failing miserably at that, and they both knew it). As he moved down, the fabric of the tie tightened around his wrists, and honestly, he felt like crying, though he ignored that urge as hard as he could. 

“Okay, Joey,” Henry smiled at him again. “That was a good start. Try again.”

“Try- try what?” Joey asked, confused and upset. Henry’s smile relaxed him just a touch, encouraging. Joey wracked his empty head, shaking it in an attempt to figure out what Henry wanted from him. “You want me to apologize again?” 

Henry did not reply with words, only smiling once more. Joey took a deep breath. 

“I’d like to apologize,” he started, his voice tight. He paused, clearing his throat to loosen his words. “For everything I’ve done to harm you, and- and everyone else. But, you first. You didn’t deserv- hey!” 

Henry, his hand still on the end of the tie, had yanked on Joey’s arms with it, making him pitch forwards off balance. To add insult to injury, Henry’s jacket suddenly landed on his head, blocking his vision entirely as he landed harshly on his hands. He scrambled back onto his haunches as he yanked down the jacket over his face, opening his mouth to give Henry a piece of his mind- only for it to go dry immediately. 

Henry’s shirt had been partially opened, and Joey struggled to keep his eyes from dipping between the fabric and onto his chest. Henry’s hands were on the straps of his suspenders, pulling them off his shoulders deliberately, still smiling down at Joey. 

“Henry,” Joey mouthed, looking up at him with wide eyes. He fought the liquid that threatened to build up within them, blinking rapidly and it went away. Henry’s blank smile stung like wasp bites. “I’m sor-”

“Are you?” Henry asked calmly, with an icy edge as he removed his suspenders. He sighed as he snapped them between his hands, making Joey flinch at the twang. “Are you truly sorry, Joey?”

“I am,” Joey tried to keep a whine out of his tone, getting more stressed, watching the suspenders twirl around Henry’s hands. At least it was a distraction from his chest; as lined with muscle as it was. Feeling warmth trickle into his face, Joey looked away. “Really.”

“Are you, now?” Henry asked quietly, snapping the metal tipped straps once again. Joey could not meet his eye. “Joey. Look at me.”

He glanced up, and then broke his gaze again, face blazing with shame. 

“Joey.”

He repressed a shiver as the suspender strap came under his jaw, forcing him to look up at Henry once again. The metal clasps of the suspenders were strikingly cold, bringing forth the shudder Joey tried to hide. Mercifully, Henry tossed aside the suspenders upon noting the uncertain discomfort with which Joey was eyeing them, but he made no comment on it. Joey bit his lip as he watched the arch of the elastic. Slowly, he managed to look back at Henry. 

“I-” Joey swallowed down his nerves again. Joey’s eyes strained to remain on Henry’s form, focusing as hard as he could on his eyes. He mumbled his next words. “I said that I was sorry.”

“Said?” Henry laughed again. It was like ice on his arms, causing goosebumps to rise up. “You said. There’s just a small problem with that, Joey. You say a lot of things. Make a lot of promises. Talk up a pretty picture. It’s rare that you deliver on it- like you are right now.” 

Joey’s mouth was full of cotton; dry, stiff and unable to say a single word in his defense. Half lidded, Henry’s eyes came to his mouth, and then his hand did, a gentle caress on his jaw slipping up to a grip on his mouth. 

“Do you think that you’re able to get whatever you ask for?” Henry laughed, eyes crinkling with humor. Joey did not know what he found so funny. “You said you’re sorry. Do you really think you deserve forgiveness, Joey?” 

Joey kept quiet. He did not really think that way, but knew that saying anything was not going to be a good idea. There also was the fact that Henry’s strong hold on his face prevented him from saying anything coherent, anyways. Joey’s hands tightened on his own knees, digging crescents in the fabric with his nails. 

“Said,” Henry scoffed, though his voice was sunshine; and he leaned even closer, starry smile even brighter than before. “Maybe you should try begging instead.” 

Now the tears began to drip. Henry jerked his hand away from Joey as though his skin burned him. Staring down at him, his smile was gone. 

“I’m sorry,” Joey choked, sniffling as he tried to keep his roiling emotions under control. “Please, please, please forgive me. If you don’t, at least say so. I’m trying, I promise, I’m trying to make it count. Henry, please forgive me!”

“Joey-”

“I’m sorry that our studio wasn’t working out, and I’m sorry that I put more on you than you could take, and I’m sorry that I didn’t know where to stop,” Joey went on, sobbing harshly. The crushing weight of his failures felt like shackles on his wrists, tied to the heavy chains with naught but Henry’s tie. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me, please forgive me for everything I’ve done to wrong you. Please. I- I am begging you, Henry. I’ll keep begging you until you believe me. Please, please….”

“Joey….”

“I don’t know how to make it up to you,” Joey looked up at him miserably through his streaming tears. “I’m sorry that I don’t know… please, give me a chance. Please. I’ll- I’ll do anything, just say it, please-”

“Okay- okay- I-” Henry looked down at him with a torn look, smile completely gone, jarringly made uncomfortable by his own demands. After a moment of shifting where he stood, he knelt down and put his hands on Joey’s shoulders. “Maybe that was a little cruel of me. We’re both in this hell.”

Joey looked at him with the saddest, wettest eyes Henry had ever seen. Henry quickly spoke to try to get rid of them. 

“I can’t forgive you,” he said quietly. Joey’s gaze broke away again, and his tears restarted. Henry lifted his head despite the fact his tears burned his hands. “Not yet, okay? If I see you really mean it-”

It was Henry’s turn to be cut off, Joey’s bound arms coming down over his shoulders in an awkward, but tight, hug. 

Henry slowly hugged him back as he cried. 

“It’s okay, Joey,” Henry soothed, though they both knew it was not okay. “You’ll make it. I believe I can forgive you, one day.”

Joey almost believed him. 

[rpstartersinc]

* 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝟏.

feel free to change pronouns / wording!

" i have credits, take them! "

" you have my heartfelt gratitude. "

" is that a bounty puck? is that me?. "

" i can bring you in warm, or i can bring you in cold. "

" you think there's really something to worry about? "

" that's the understatement of the millennium. "

" is it true that you guys never take off your helmets? "

" i didn't mean to alarm. "

" i like those odds. "

" i'm simply being pragmatic. "

" this is extremely generous. "

" i will help you. "

" there will be no peace until they're gone. "

" so much for the element of surprise. "

" you know, you're not so bad. "

" i thought you were dead. "

" i did disintegrate a few of them. "

" i'm a mandalorian, weapons are part of my religion. "

" i'm surprised you waited. "

" i'm surprised you took so long. "

" i could use a crew member of your ability. "

" your reputation was not unwarranted. "

" you are both hunter and prey. "

" how do i know i can trust you? "

" stop touching things. "

" you want some soup? "

" one of us is gonna have to move on, and i was here first. "

" so, you think i'm some kind of mercenary? "

" can i play with him? "

" this is more than i signed up for. "

" nice beside manner. "

" so what happens if you take that thing off? they come after you and kill you? "

" i did my job, he's safe. "

" are you sure you don't want an escort? "

" that's my line. "

" you damage one of my droids, you'll pay for it. "

" i'm a hunter, i'm looking for some work. "

" if you're looking for work, have a seat, my friend. "

" you can't just leave a child all alone like that. "

" is she dead? "

" i hope you don't plan on keeping all that stuff for yourself. "

" you take the first watch. "

" look at you, asleep on the job, old man. "

" you done? "

" make the best deal for yourself, and survive. "

" looks like i'm calling the shots now. "

" you're smarter than you look. "

" i didn't really know if i'd ever see you in these parts again. "

" so, this is a mandalorian... i thought they'd be bigger. "

" tell me why i shouldn't cut you down where you stand? "

" i don't trust anybody. "

" see, i know who you really are. "

" maybe that code of yours has made you soft. "

" you always were paranoid. "

" we're not killing anybody, you understand? "

" aren't you a man of honour? "

" i told you that was a bad idea. "

" i'm not in the mood to play soldier anymore. "

" i've run into some problems. "

" droids are not good or bad. "

" none will be free until the old ways are gone forever. "

" you got a real thing for droids, don't you? "

" trust me, nothing can go wrong. "

" don't be so dramatic. "

" he's trying to eat me! "

" get me close to him, and i'll kill him. "

" i see nothing but death and chaos. "

" you have something i want. "

" i'm telling you to get out of here. "

" that was unpleasant, i'm sorry you had to see that. "

" your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation. "

" i would prefer to avoid any further violence, and encourage a moment of consideration. "

" if you're asking if you can trust me, you cannot. "

" if you go near this child, i will have no choice but to kill you. "

" i'm not gonna make it and you know it. "

" let me have a warrior's death. "

" i won't leave you. "

" that was a joke, it was meant to put you at ease. "

" we should at least discuss an escape plan. "

" watch your feet, it's molten lava. "

" you don't have that kind of firepower, pal. "

" there is nothing to be sad about, i have never been alive. "

" that was impressive, very impressive. "

" it looks like your guild rates have just gone up. "

" some of my favourite people are bounty hunters. "

[lucagray813]

Abstract

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 3,656

Characters: MK, Pigsy

Relationships: MK & Pigsy

Summary: As MK struggles with change, time spent with family might be just what he needs.

Additional Tags: Family feels, dreams & nightmares, dadsy

CW: None

Link to AO3 Version

----

MK couldn't remember the last time he has delivered noodles like this. And after all the chaos of the last year he was really appreciating the simplicity of driving around the city in his tuk-tuk. And it was such a nice day too! The sun was shining, traffic was nonexistent and every song blaring through his headphones matched the good vibes perfectly.

He couldn't help grinning as he pulled up in front of the house he was delivering to, he grabbed the takeout bag from the back and danced his way to the front door. After ringing the doorbell he pulled down his headphones to rest around his neck but he still shuffled to the tinny beat while he waited.

When the door opened, it was a giant of a man that poked his head out, with lavender eyes that were almost hypnotically familiar. In fact, an awful feeling filled MK's chest the longer he stared into them but he quickly shook himself out of it.

Holding up the bag of noodles in front of him he tried to cheerfully exclaim, "I've got your Pigsy's Noodles order!"

The man didn't even glance down before responding, "This isn't my order."

How could he even know that it wasn't his order when he hadn't looked in the bag? He started to ask, "Are you sure about..."

He trailed off as he looked at his hands to find he was holding a peach where he had been certain he had been holding a takeout bag seconds prior. He did a double take and then started to apologize, "Where did this even come from? I am so sorry, your order must still be in the back - just give me two seconds and I'll-"

He cut himself off as he turned around to find the back of the tuk-tuk overflowing with peaches. Freaking out he dived into the pile of peaches and dug through them to try and find this man's noodles. But there was nothing! It was all peaches!

Stressed he gripped at his head, "Oh man! Pigsy is going to kill me!" He quickly jumped out of the peaches and into the driver's seat. He turned to the man and shouted, "I am so sorry about this! I'll go find your order and be right back! It'll be on the house!"

He cringed, it wasn't going to be on the house it was going to be on him - Pigsy was definitely going to deduct this from his wage! The sooner he fixed this the better so he wasted no time turning the tuk-tuk around and driving off as quickly as possible back to the restaurant.

He didn't see how the man cracked and disintegrated behind him - his eyes never leaving his back.

He couldn't believe this! How could he have lost all of the orders!? And where the heck had all these peaches come from!? He looked back and was alarmed to see that the number of peaches seemed to have doubled!

He cried out, "Why does this stuff always happen to me!? I just wanted to deliver some noodles!"

He focused on the road ahead, driving with reckless abandon until finally Pigsy's Noodles was in sight. He came to a dead stop in front of the restaurant, the momentum throwing him forward. He went with it, rolling over the hood and on to the road before sharply stopping and dashing through the front door.

Pigsy was cooking in the kitchen with his back to him and MK grabbed tightly at the end of the bar as he started to frantically explain, "Pigsy! All the orders disappeared! I don't know where they went! There's just peaches everywhere! I'm sorry! I know it'll come out of my wages but I need you to make everything again!"

He brought his elbows to the bar and brought his hands together with his head lowered, "I'm so sorry! Please don't kill me!"

His head snapped up at Pigsy's confused response, "Do I know you?"

He laughed awkwardly, "Pigsy! What sort of joke is that?"

But he definitely didn't look like he was joking and he didn't even seem to have heard anything he'd said about the missing noodles, a little panicked he still tried to play along with the joke, "What? C'mon, Pigsy! It's me, MK!"

Pigsy did not look amused, "Yeah, very funny. You ain't MK. MK doesn't look like that."

MK physically recoiled from this statement, taking a step back, "What are you talking about? Of course, I'm-"

But then he caught sight of his arms, his clothes had disappeared and he could see that his body was covered in fur, movement out of the corner of his eye had him looking behind him to reveal a tail that was undeniably his.

He brought his hands to his face and could feel that it was different - nose and ears more pronounced with thick fur surrounding it.

"No! This isn't me! I-" He tore his hands away and swung them wide as he looked towards Pigsy desperately, "I just look a little different but I'm still me! I'm still MK!"

Pigsy didn't look convinced, the distress of seeing this caused his tail to lash behind him knocking several stools to the floor. Pigsy barked at him, "Watch what you're doing!"

He apologized profusely as he tried to pick them up but every attempt only allowed his tail to knock down even more stools. Frustration mounting his next attempt to pick up a chair saw its leg shatter under his grip.

He quickly dropped the ruined piece of furniture backing away from it. He grabbed at the edge of the bar to steady himself only for it to also crumble under his touch.

With a panicked shout he pushed away from it causing the whole thing to crack in half, with every step backwards he took the world seemed to shake, massive cracks appearing beneath his feet. Until suddenly, the whole building was shaking and crumbling away.

He quickly looked to a terrified Pigsy that stuck in the kitchen as the roof started to give way above him.

MK didn't hesitate, he lunged forward.

In the blink of an eye he was suddenly immobile, stuck mid jump suddenly encased in rock. Pigsy's Noodles nowhere in sight. Distressed, he tried to get free but no amount of struggling helped.

He stopped when he heard Pigsy's voice, "It's no use, kid."

Standing in front of him was a very banged up looking Pigsy - his arm in a sling, his face covered in scratches and his clothes a mess. Concerned, the hand that wasn't trapped in the rock strained to reach him, "Pigsy! Are you ok? What happened to you?"

"You happened to me."

He felt like he'd been slapped, but he fought against the shock to desperately try and explain, "I didn't do this! I- I was trying to save you! But I got stuck here! I don't understand what's going on! Where are we?"

"You're finally where you belong."

He shook his head, "I don't belong here! I'm supposed to be delivering noodles! I'm supposed to be home with you!"

"You were never supposed to be with me. Don't you see? You're too dangerous to be anywhere but here. Trapped under Flower Fruit Mountain you can finally stop hurting everyone."

In his head he heard a voice that forever haunted him echo, "That pursuit only leads to one thing... pain."

He shook his head to rid himself of her and started to struggle again as Pigsy turned and walked away from him, he shouted after him desperately, tears running down his face, "No! Pigsy! Please, don't leave me here! Please! I never meant to hurt anybody! I'll do better! Please! Dad!"

But he didn't turn around he just kept walking until he disappeared from sight.

He was alone, he was trapped and all he could hear was the echo of his mistakes.

He screamed.

----

"MK!"

With a gasp he sat upright in his bed, the overhead light glaring as his dad held his shoulders looking incredibly concerned, "Jeez MK, you scared the hell out of me! Are you alright?"

He almost couldn't comprehend what he was seeing but he was overwhelmed with relief that his dad was right here in front of him all in one piece. He couldn't have stopped himself from throwing himself forward for a hug even if he had wanted to.

Pigsy didn't hesitate to hold him tightly, muttering reassurances as the stress of his nightmare caused him to cry on his father's shoulder.

----

In the light of the day, there was a part of him that felt embarrassed for running and crying to his dad just because he'd had a bad dream. He was an adult and he was a hero on top of that! He wasn't supposed to go crying to his dad especially not over something as silly as a nightmare!

But still, he couldn't deny that he'd been thoroughly rattled by it and he found himself reluctant to be anywhere away from Pigsy. He'd astral projected to Monkey King this morning to let him know he was skipping training today. Giving him a half truth of a bad night's sleep making training feel like a bad idea.

Thankfully, Monkey King hadn't questioned him too much and in fact had even said that he deserved a day off from all the hard work he'd been putting in recently.

After that had been taken care of, he'd done his best to stick to Pigsy's side as he got the restaurant ready for opening - which both seemed to concern and annoy him.

Eventually he was questioned, gruffly, "Don't you have training today or something?"

He hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Pigsy what his dream had been about, plagued by the irrational fear that speaking it out loud would somehow make it real. Like Pigsy would suddenly realise that he was too dangerous to have around.

Which wouldn't happen of course because today he was going to prove to Pigsy, and to himself, that he was still the same old MK and that everything was totally fine!

So with that in mind, he may have fibbed, "Ah, Monkey King had something on so I've got a free day! And you know it's been a while since we hung out! I thought we could have some proper father-son bonding time!"

Pigsy looked at him with a great deal of suspicion and it was all he could do to just stop himself sweating under his scrutiny.

Eventually, Pigsy sighed, "Kid, I'd love to spend time with you but I've got to work..."

He never thought he would feel so elated to say the following words, "I know! I can work with you! Like old times! Oh! Or even better than old times! I could help you out in the kitchen! I could be your sous-chef!"

Pigsy looked at him like he'd grown an extra head, "You want to spend your day off cooking with me in the restaurant? Kid, you hate cooking! What has gotten into you?"

It wasn't that he hated cooking necessarily... but cooking was like Pigsy's whole deal and he wasn't super tolerant of having people in his space when he was in the zone. In fact, getting under Pigsy's feet while he was cooking was probably the fastest way to set off his temper.

But cooking was also a classic bonding activity! What better way to say "I love you, dad! Please don't lock me away under a mountain" than taking an interest in Pigsy's all time favourite thing?

Awkwardly he tried to explain, "Well it was sort of fun that time we cooked together in the Food Wars contest! I just thought it would be nice..."

Ok so, he hadn't really done much of the cooking that time but it had been nice to spend time with Pigsy! He wanted that again!

Pigsy scrutinized him again before sighing, "Alright, look you can't cook with me. You'll get super stressed out during rush hour and we both know how I get so it's a recipe for disaster..."

Something must have shown on his face as Pigsy switched his tune and tried to salvage the situation, "But if you really want you can help wait tables. I could maybe even call Red and cancel her for the day..."

He seemed to deliberate before he scratched at the back of his head not quite looking at MK, "I suppose it has been a while since we spent some time together. Tell you what - help me out in the restaurant today and I'll close up early and we can do something. Think about what you want to do alright?"

MK didn't think he'd ever been this excited to work before, "Yes! Thank you, Pigsy! This will be great! I promise!"

----

Several grueling hours later, MK was feeling incredibly glad that Pigsy had in fact not cancelled Red to help wait tables. Because once word got out that MK was working at the restaurant, they had been absolutely overwhelmed with customers.

Thankfully the majority of them were paying customers that wanted noodles and were not just there to try get a photo or a signature from him. He sort of knew that he was something of a celebrity but he'd spent so little time in the city as of late he'd forgotten he was kind of a big deal.

Pigsy had handled it with surprising grace but he had also been pretty efficient at tossing out people that weren't here to eat. He and Red had taken turns acting as bouncers in between their actual jobs which MK felt a little guilty about. But he just had a hard time saying no to people that just wanted to talk to him.

But eventually, the day was over. The restaurant was tidied and Red had waved them goodbye, leaving the two of them to groan tiredly at one of the booths.

So he hadn't set off some sort of disaster but he had absolutely not made the day any easier for Pigsy. Sure, being busy was good but that had been overkill and it was all because he had been there.

His spiralling guilt was cut off at Pigsy's tired laugh, "Y'know, MK. You work here a day a week and I could probably afford some time off!" He brought his hand to his chin thoughtfully, "Or maybe there's another way to capitalize on your hero status... how does a signed picture of MK, the Monkie Kid with every special sound?"

MK had laughed thinking he was joking but it looked like he was seriously contemplating it!

Thankfully, Pigsy put the idea on the back burner, "We can brainstorm it another time. Alright, kid. I'm all yours. What did you want to do?"

He'd barely had a minute to think about it during the day but now he had a chance he found himself at a loss. Even before he'd picked up the staff, he and Pigsy never got to spend a lot of one on one time together seeing as the latter was usually working.

He tried to think of what he normally did in his spare time but none of it really seemed to be something Pigsy would enjoy. Art, the arcade, video games? Did he even know what Pigsy liked to do? Well, apart from cooking?

He was saved from answering by his stomach grumbling loudly, he shot Pigsy a sheepish look. The other just rolled his eyes and stood up, "Alright dinner first. I'll heat up some leftovers."

As he watched Pigsy make his way to the kitchen he was struck by a sudden urge and followed, "Wait! Maybe... maybe we could cook something together...?"

What was he even asking? Pigsy had literally been cooking all day! But it just felt like a sure fire thing that they could do together.

Before he could take back the suggestion, Pigsy looked at him curiously, "I mean we can but where's all this enthusiasm for cooking coming from today?"

MK shrugged a little helplessly, "I don't know... I guess I just want to do something with you that I know you like."

Pigsy waved him over and put a hand in his shoulder, "Kid, I'm happy to do whatever you want, you don't need to cook with me if you don't want to."

He couldn't explain it but he really did want to, he didn't care too much about the actual cooking but he wanted to do something personal with Pigsy. He didn't just want to coexist in the same space, he wanted them to really spend time together.

So as sincerely as he could he replied, "I do want to though! Please?"

Pigsy shrugged, "Alright, kid. Go grab..."

And so they started to cook together, Pigsy slowing down the process and patiently waiting for MK while he worked through a task. It was nice, if not a little humbling to realise just how bad at cooking he was.

Pigsy teased him here and there but he was surprisingly patient and even encouraging, "Don't worry if the veg is cut a bit rough - it's going to taste just as good."

It was as he was waiting for Pigsy to grab something out of the fridge that his eyes wandered to the photos on the wall, "Hey Pigsy?"

He continued at the hum of acknowledgement that Pigsy made as he made his way back over to the pot, "It was grandma that taught you how to cook right?"

Pigsy looked over at him curiously, "Er, mostly, yeah? Why...?"

An uncomfortable feeling was forming in his chest, "How come neither of you taught me?"

Pigsy looked surprised at the question but he seemed to really think about his answer as he turned his attention back to the pot.

MK knew he'd never shown a great deal of interest in cooking but it was a family tradition, right? From the very little he knew about Pigsy's parents he knew they had both been able to cook too.

Maybe it was a tradition reserved for actual family members...

Pigsy sighed, "You know I'm not a big fan of talking about when I was younger but I guess I have to if I'm going to explain this..."

It was enough of a bombshell that MK was almost completely distracted from his distressing thoughts. Getting Pigsy to talk about his life before him was an impossibility. The majority of what he did know he had learned from his great grandma and even then it had just been little tidbits.

He tried not to let his eagerness be too apparent and waited patiently for Pigsy to continue.

Pigsy glanced at him before continuing, "Back when I was a kid, it used to be the three of them running the old restaurant - grandma, dad and ma. But after dad died... Well, ma wasn't really fit to work, so grandma needed help."

He turned the heat down on the stove and leaned back against the bar, crossing his arms, there was a distant look in his eyes as he said, "I spent almost every waking moment working. If I wasn't in school, I was in the restaurant..."

He looked at MK a little sadly, "I probably could have taught you to cook. Should have, even. But, I don't know, I just didn't want history to repeat itself, I guess. Didn't want you getting involved in the restaurant in any way when you were a kid. Once you finished school and wanted to work part time to earn some money that was fine but before that... I just didn't want you to worry about any of this, wanted you to get to enjoy being a kid, y'know?"

He was a little glassy eyed as he looked away, "I know that I never spent as much time with you as I should have when you were growing up. Always busy working." He sniffled slightly, "And now you're out there being a hero and I'm still too busy working to even spend your day off with you..."

If MK wasn't already a blubbering mess then Pigsy's next words would have done him in. Suddenly full of resolve, he stood up and brought a heavy hand down on the counter, "Well no more! You're out there saving the world, the least I can do is be there when you need me! I'll- I'll change the opening hours, I'll hire more staff, I'll figure something out!"

He marched over and placed a hand on his shoulder, "You're the most important thing in the world to me and what kind of dad would I be if I just stayed here cooking noodles while you're out there facing god knows what!"

The dam broke as MK hugged Pigsy as tightly as he could, in between sobs he managed to get out, "But I like when you cook noodles!"

Pigsy choked on a laugh, "I'm not going to stop making noodles, you doofus!" He pulled back to look at him, "I'm just going to make sure I'm supporting you as best as I can."

MK tried to wipe at his tears, but in the face of such genuine care the truth burst out of him, "Everything is changing so fast and I don't know how to handle it."

Pigsy's expression was soft, "I know, kid. It's a lot and it's scary but one thing that'll never change is the fact that you're my kid and I'm going to do everything in my power to do what's right for you."

MK was gone, with a heartfelt wail he hugged Pigsy again, "I love you, dad!"

The "I love you too, son." in response did more to soothe MK's soul than Pigsy could ever know.

--End--

LMK Fanfic Masterlist

[jeysbvck]

wip wednesday!!

so it's been a while since writer shan has been around, and im back with a new fandom!! ive been a wwe fan for my whole life basically, but it's a new fandom im writing for, and in turn, it brings my first (shared) oc!! this is also a...second draft!!

i hope my 5 wwe (and jey uso) mutuals enjoy this!

untitled jey uso wip.

no pressure tags (for wip wednesday/just interest in reading my wip) @maplefire18 @rollinsland @harlem11680 @afterdarkprincess @harmshake @bebesobrielo @sznofthesticks

“Everyone's talkin’ ‘bout it.” Jey said. “Talkin’ ‘bout how you and Damian are having secret dates and sharin’ hotel rooms.”

“Oh, so if everyone's talking about it, it must be true, right?” Ana asked before scoffing. “They're just rumours, Jey. Unlike you and whatever-her-name is, right?”

“Ay, you jealous?” He asked, and Ana rolled her eyes, laughing dryly.

“You're the one getting all weird about rumours, while you're getting photographed running around town! I'm just pointing out the hypocrisy!” She replied, loudly. Jey noticed she didn't actually answer his question.

“So you haven't been seein’ Priest?”

“I see him all the time.” Ana said, bluntly, making Jey groan as he rubbed his eyes. Ana sighed, backing down slightly. “No, I am not dating, nor am I sleeping with Damian.” She said, sincerely, before adding, “Although, I have no idea why it matters to you what I do and who I do it with.”

Jeys eyes grew darker somehow and he stepped closer to Ana. She stood her ground and refused to take her eyes off him, the air around them was tense, but electric.

“You know why, Ana.” Jey replied.

Ana's heartbeat accelerated at an alarming rate as what she could only describe as a tsunami of heat washed over her. This was getting too serious. Ana wasn't under any illusions. She knew how she felt about Jey ran deeper than friendship. She wasn't stupid either, she knew Jey felt something, but she had no idea if they were even on the same chapter, let alone the same page.

Ana ran her hands through her hair and shook her head. “I'm not doing this.” She muttered. “I can't do this.”

Ana stepped past Jey, and for a moment, he almost let her. Just as she got to the door, she felt his strong, yet soft hand on her bare arm, sparks flying from the single touch. Ana turned around, now sandwiched in between Jey and the door.

They had been here twice before, in this exact room, but something was different. Ana's resolve was quickly disintegrating. Jey was so beautiful, with his brown eyes that were warm and inviting, that she couldn't help melting into. Everything he did, he made it seem so effortless. She knew this was a bad idea, she knew it would be dangerous, could destroy the things that meant the most to her, yet she couldn't help herself. She was addicted to the way she felt when she was around him. Coming back into his orbit was like stepping out of the darkness; the feeling of warmth and happiness. She was reminded of Icarus, and how she had never related to his obsession and flight into the sun, until now. Now, she could understand why he ignored the warnings.

She was Icarus, and Joshua Fatu was the sun.

[fancoloredglasses]

[RERUN] Crisis on Infinite Earths, issue 3: “Oblivion Upon Us” (The Purge: Multiverse Edition)

PREVIOUSLY ON…

The Multiverse is disintegrating at an alarming rate, being heralded by a being known as Pariah. A being known as the Monitor and his assistant Harbinger have gathered 15 super beings from across the multiverse to guard 5 pillars that he says will save what’s left. Meanwhile, he has gathered the last survivor of Earth-3 (Alexander Luthor, who went from infant to adolescent in a matter of hours), making 4 of 6 characters made specifically for the series accounted for.

The fifth we have heard as he shanghai'd one of the Monitor’s champions (Psycho Pirate) and has compromised Harbinger.

Meanwhile, Pariah has appeared on Earth-1 as the wave of white that spelled the doom of so many universes approaches.

Caught up? Good, cuz the cast is about to more than triple in size (and is only going to get bigger as the series progresses). If you would like to read this issue, it (along with the rest of the series) has been collected in graphic novel form and is available (or can be ordered) at your favorite comic shop, bookstore, or online retailer…or on Read Comic Online.

[I want to note that I’m not going to explain who everyone that appears is unless they’re important to the plot. There are just too many and I’d like to finish this before the next DC Cinematic reboot begins]

That all being said, let’s continue…

The Monitor studies Alexander Luthor (still rapidly aging, now a teen) Alex is composed of matter and antimatter (and didn’t explode? Someone tell Mr. Scott that ye can change the laws of physics!)

…no doubt due to his journey from Earth-3 to Earth-1. Harbinger slips away to inform the Big Bad. Psycho-Pirate tells him that Harbinger’s loyalties are conflicted and offers to use his powers to fix that. The Big Bad refuses, saying that Harbinger will eventually do his bidding and kill the Monitor.

We then visit the 30th century, where the Flash has been living after being framed for murder (long story that I’m not telling now). He sees the wall of white that’s threatening the universe and decided to return to his own time to warn everyone (not sure what good that will do)

…but as Batman, the Outsiders, and the Teen Titans witness the Flash’s return, he is enveloped in a strange energy and teleported away.

For whatever reason, we switch to the cybernetic super villain Brainiac, who is in space and sees the wave of white. That’s it. Kinda pointless, actually.

Next we go to Markovia during WW2 (I’m assuming Earth-1, as Sgt. Rock’s Easy Company is among those in attendance) Blue Beetle’s trying to guard the pillar while Dr. Polaris and (Markovian native) Geo-Force are busy fighting Nazis. (Geo-Force because he feels obligated to defend his homeland over 20 years before he was born, and Dr. Polaris because it means he can murder people and no one will care) Easy Company and the Losers (the WW2 strike team, not the guys in the 2010 movie) investigate the pillar…

…but the wave of white comes in and envelops the Losers, disintegrating them! Then come the shadows. They take out Easy Company’s “Flower” (I don’t know his actual name as I never read any Sgt. Rock comics)

…and attempt to do so to Blue Beetle, but Beetle’s mystical scarab (why a tech hero has a mystical artifact, I don’t know) saves him, but his shoulder is trashed.  Monitor sends him home (that’s two down, including Psycho Pirate)

Meanwhile, at the Planet of the Apes Great Disaster, Solovar has been injured enough to be sent home as well (make that three)

We now switch to the fourth pillar in Earth-1′s Old West (why aren’t there pillars on any other Earth?), where we see the heroes from DC’s western titles: Bat Lash (no relation), Jonah Hex, Johnny Thunder, Scalphunter, and Nighthawk. Joining them are Psimon, Cyborg, Green Lantern John Stewart, and Firebrand. The shadows arrive shortly after, and John’s ring dies due to the Central battery going kaboom back in issue 2.

Nighthawk retreats, only to run into the white wave.

Meanwhile, at the Monitor’s satellite, the Monitor is ready to start Phase 2 of his plan.

…just in time for Harbinger to kill him!

WILL the Monitor’s machines save the rest of the multiverse?

WHO is the being behind this multiversal massacre?

WHY are the machines only on Earth-1? ARE the other universes not important to the writers?

These questions and more will be answered in the next issue!

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Excerpt Thriving: Dark Matter

↳ The empty elevator was a tight fit, and while it didn't have an impact on him one way or another, Thrive was acutely aware of Scot's presence behind him. The journey started with a heavy shudder from the car, and Thrive's eyes fell shut against the ascension. Silence soaked the space, settling onto their skins, both human in appearance, neither made with human cells.

"You've been a hard one to find of late," Scot murmured at his shoulder.

After a considerable pause during which Thrive opened his eyes again and watched the shadow of each floor pass through the translucent walls, he withdrew a deep breath. He said nothing at first.

Scot also didn't speak for another few floors. "...Some things have transpired that I'm not entirely sure you know about regarding Warren."

"It would be best, then, for me to continue not knowing about them, wouldn't it?" Thrive said immediately, his voice rich and stark in the cramped car.

"I am not the one at whom you should direct your ire."

Thrive swallowed, his brow pinched.

Scot's voice took on an interesting affectation—almost a husky half-whisper that fired off Thrive's neurons at an alarming rate. He stepped closer to Thrive, all but speaking directly into the back of his neck. "It's a bit odd that you're on the Node right now, considering your current standing with the entire kingdom."

"What are you getting at, Scot?"

"What did you discover when you ———?"

"I did what I was sent to do."

"You found the Emmuli, didn't you?"

Thrive was rendered speechless, here. He closed his mouth tightly, still not turning to look at Scot, and his jaw clenched tight enough to break teeth.

"You know." Scot leaned closer. "...You know their origins, their roots. You know, and you are possibly the only one alive who knows, and you have, metaphorically speaking, a target the size of a small planet on your back, now. You have simultaneously become the most hunted and the most dangerous entity in the known universe."

Thrive finally turned to Scot, towering over him, bearing down on him with an intense stare, an intimidating stare that had even the android a bit unnerved. Thrive's fiery emerald eyes met Scot's soft lavender ones, and breathable air seeped out the car at an alarming rate. Scot's facial seams blinked in warning, but he otherwise remained steadfast and cautious.

"...Even more dangerous than the Ammathu," Scot finished quietly.

"And, maybe foolishly," Thrive murmured, his own voice a low rumble in the small space of the elevator, "you, who knows the sordid details of my husband's most maddening affair—you, who not only did nothing to stop it, but encouraged it—are trapped in an enclosed space with me."

"You're going to terminate me."

"I could disintegrate you with a thought," Thrive growled in a whisper.

"Perhaps it would be beneficial to remember that you yourself told me I am just as alive as any of you."

Thrive paused again. He continued to glower at Scot, his eyes flashing with rage, his breathing short. Scot, on the other hand, kept a steady eye on him, waiting, scanning every change in Thrive's face and body language with his supercomputer mind.

He did not like what he saw.

"...Do it," Scot muttered.

The second the first word left Scot's mouth, Thrive bludgeoned him in the direct center of his forehead with a meteoric fist, knocking him into the wall. Scot crumpled immediately, his facial seams sputtering, a metallic fluid leaking out of the back of his head, a spurt of it splattering against the alloy paneling before it stopped. His irises spun into their exposed copper state, and he went still.

Thrive stood over him for a moment. Cracked his neck, flexed his hands. When the elevator reached his destination, he allowed the breathable air to return to the car before stepping off and striding away.

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Haunted

The EMH heaves a beleaguered sigh when the ship’s biosensors activate him. Hands in pockets, he struts to the origin of the alarm and stops in front of the Captain’s cabin where he straightens and takes a fortifying breath. More out of self-protection than out of courtesy, he pushes the chime button on the door’s panel to announce his arrival rather than overriding the system and storming right in, as the emergency protocol would warrant.

What can it be this time?

While he waits for a response, he analyzes the biosensor readings for a preliminary diagnosis. The Captain’s life isn’t in immediate danger; none of his vitals telegraph a severe injury or illness, but his heart rate and blood pressure are off and–

Oh.

The Captain’s blood alcohol is 0.28 %.

From inside the cabin, the EMH hears a slurred, angry voice.

“Go away! L-leave me ‘lone!”

So it’s going to be that kind of night.

For a moment, the EMH considers his options. Options he doesn’t really have since his hippocratic programming doesn’t leave him any; he’s bound to Star Fleet’s Medical Code, hologram or not. If the ship’s computer reports a medical emergency, he has to respond, even against the patient’s will.

But if he wasn’t a medical officer, and if he wasn’t a hologram, he’d turn on his heel now, evading the Captain’s intoxicated wrath and leaving him to deal with his straining liver, neurological impairment and bubbling stomach acid on his own.

However, he is La Sirena’s Emergency Medical Hologram, and in spite of the challenges that come with the post (and his belligerent and only patient), he is proud of his job, and he intends to execute it flawlessly and professionally. Schooling his features into a stern but non-offensive expression, he disintegrates and re-materializes on the other side of the door, inside the cabin.

He wants to suppress it, but his coding is too strong, and his catchphrase tumbles out of him:

“What is the nature of your emergency?”

The addressee, to his medical dismay, is on the floor by the foot of the bed, half passed out next to an empty bottle of Pisco and trying to bring a second bottle to his lips.

“Go away.”

Rios waves an uncoordinated hand at the EMH and glares at him with dark, blood-shot eyes. With scientific curiosity, the hologram notices that, even on his arse and sagging against the bed, Rios is swaying.

The EMH’s processor lights up with a quick, silent alarm, and numbers flash red across his the hologram’s internal vision.

Blood alcohol 0.3%

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Emil replies calmly. “Your intoxication has reached critical levels and requires medical intervention to prevent-”

“GO AWAY!”

It’s more of a growl than a scream, and followed by a string of Chilean expressions even the universal translator can’t decipher, and the EMH is used to such verbal abuse by now, but the dangerous spark in the Captain’s eyes that comes with it shuts the hologram up.

For 3.2 seconds.

“Apologies, Captain, but I’m afraid I can’t. Your level of intoxication has reached critical limits, you’re severely dehydrated and your neurological function is-”

“THEN MAKE IT STOP!”

Although holograms don’t need to blink, the EMH does. Surprised, he looks at the Captain who has now turned his face fully to him. Starlight softly illuminates the otherwise dark cabin, and Emil spots silvery tracks on Rios’ face. The rage in the Captain’s eyes shifts to desperation.

“Can you make it stop?”

An unguarded, brittle question that makes no sense to the EMH, and his processor rattles in alarm. Quickly, it runs through psychiatric and neurological assessment algorithms.

“Make what stop, Captain Rios?” he then asks softly.

New tears falling, Rios’ eyes flicker from Emil to the darkest corner of his cabin, and his pupils dilate in terror.

“Him.” A frightened whisper.

The EMH adjusts his night vision to the highest setting and scans the shadows Rios is staring at. There’s no one there. No one that he can see.

But it’s clear that Rios can.

“Who are you talking about?” Emil asks.

Rios blinks and then, agonized, he looks back at the EMH. Secrets swim in his eyes. Secrets that are clearly spilling out into the night. Delusions, Emil’s processor analyzes. Ghosts, the part of him that’s observed Rios for months suggests.

Whatever is haunting the Captain must be connected to the odd blanks in the EMH’s memory database and the haphazard deletion all of the Emergency Holograms have experienced. They’ve tried to solve this riddle, to no avail.

“Please?” Rios asks pleads again, face contorted in pain. “Can you make it stop?”

“Yes.” With a silent command, the EMH summons a psychiatric emergency kit. “Yes, I can.”

He takes a hypospray out of the case and loads it with a heavy sedative. He expects resistance when he holds it up, but the Captain offers him his neck, pressing his eyes closed, ready to not see anymore. It’s unsettling.

The hologram administers the sedative and drops into a quick crouch as Rios sags sideways. Efficiently, Emil hoists his body onto the bed and turns him on his side. He’d rather have the Captain in Sickbay for monitoring and microinjections, but, from past experience, he knows better than to push that far. From what he’s seen tonight, Rios is going to need him in the weeks to come, and Emil cannot do his job if he’s getting wiped from the mainframe in a bout of post-crisis hangover rage.

Instead, he settles the Captain as best as he can and administers another hypospray cocktail to ensure that Rios will get through the night safely and dreamless. He rigs up a mobile monitoring system that he’s cobbled together a while ago with Ian’s help, during another of Rios’ bad nights. Then he settles into Rios’ desk chair.

His gaze wanders to the starboard corner of the cabin. His internal processor shudders in an imitation of human goose flesh.

They will need to figure out what’s causing the Captain’s breakdowns.

They will have to, or it will kill him.

[drippingheart]

The smell of a sorcerer's death and that of a degenerate non-sorcerer was decipherable, so he would have himself and anyone believe. He did not revel in the death of his own kind, yet in a fight between curses born from humans and those who sacrifice their lives, the shedding of blood was inevitable. Even by Getō Suguru's own hand, misaligned sorcerers who dared become an obstacle in his life's endeavors required felling. Given the option, of course, the death of a million non-sorcerer trash was favourable over the death of a sorcerer, jujutsu aligned or otherwise. Standing in the heart of Harajuku, Shibuya, Roppongi — he could not help but to let mind wander, musing in how easy it would be to unleash a horde of curses to dismember and slaughter.

It was laughable really. Even a laugh as clear as gentle rain sounded man in a crowd of hundreds. Filthy things. They stared and judged, and Suguru had to quiet his sadistic amusement. Well, his wish to unleash a basic level of purgatory was granted. The gods smiled down on him. With ear to the ground and finger on the pulse of cursed activity in the entirety of Japan, tremors of activity caught the initial attention of Miguel and information was subsequently bestowed to Suguru. The spike in cursed activity was certainly enough to draw the attention of jujutsu sorcerers despite the abysmal mortality rate, but Suguru knew best — politics dominated saving lives.

He dispatched a low level curse for surveillance as he studied weather maps surrounding the tiny village. Temperatures had not been predicted to drop below freezing, yet the sole entrance of the village was overgrown with sheets of ice. Upon the return of the lepidoptera appearing curse, the buzzing creature confirmed unusual happenings in the remote village. It was then he remember the monumental amount of letters he received; all handwritten, naturally. Villagers who had heard of Suguru's blessed gifts wrote by the tens asking for help and offering whatever meager amounts they would harvest come spring and summer. The letters had been either disposed of and ignored.

Entirely forgotten until that very moment. How interesting. The man donned clothing more fitting for a winter excursion and took the skies on his manta ray appearing curse. The trip was cold but not unpleasant. A man with his thoughts. Dark, dark thoughts, as well as his hopes. Using the vantage point of the sky, Suguru circled the entire village for about twenty minutes. Villagers were not attending to their menial activities as expected, the ice which had blocked the village was already melting, and, more importantly, cries of anger pitched louder than that of ravens. Memories of his own youth entered his mind.

Memories of the fateful day he found his daughters entered his mind. What were the vile monkeys up to? Cursed energy shot forth like a beacon of blue light, but it was undoubtly strange for common humans to be gathered around the source, alive no less. More low level curses were summoned on the outskirts, serving as alarm drones should anything interrupt his investigations. A star falling. Suguru plummeted as the rush of wind forced his eyes shut. Few metres before touching ground, the onyx haired man performed a backflip just before the ray curse disintegrated back into his arsenal. He landed with the seamlessness of a feline behind the mob of humans ... and watched.

There was no child at the centre of the hate nor a curse as the letters hinted at nor even a familiar curse user. They @frostbounddevotion were something else entirely; a hidden power easily ( though only foolishly ) overlooked. It irked Suguru like being afflicted with a painful ailment to set idle as the humans shouted and frothed like rabid beasts. Digits of his right hand moved to press against his forehead to alleviate the early signs of a migraine. He waited and waited, then drew his breath and readied himself to draw a particularly blood thirsty curse which resembled a human fetus when — the chill of winter bloomed crystals of ice on his onyx eyelashes. A sudden explosion of death and destruction.

Suguru leaped upwards in time to avoid the explosion of icicles were decimated both man and ground with the sound of shattering glass. All at once the rabid screams were over, and the sight before him resembled the beauty captured in snowglobes. Only this was a real life snowglobe. Beautiful. Geta landed with care on the sheets of ice as hues twinkling with amusement beheld the lithe form of the curse user. One hand was shoved in the pocket of his plush white jacket while the other waved in the air with gesticulation fanfare which matched his tone of voice.

── ❛ And here I was hoping to exterminate them. Ah, you've done well though. This way my residuals will not make a mess. ❜

There was no powerful curse to acquire unfortunately, however he could not ignore the potential of gaining another ally. Such a technique was equally beautiful as it was rare. A smile stretched Suguru's lips, and the brightness of it caused eyes to shut and crinkle with delight. Geta were not made to traverse through such sleek ice, instead the ray curse was summoned once more to have him float in a casual manner.

── ❛ And what would your name be, mm? ❜

[colormepurplex2]

Dream For Us | Plagued By Nightmares

↳  Hyung Line x f.Reader ⤜ Strangers/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 5,981 ⚠️ Sexual banter/talk, alcohol consumption, angst, sleep paralysis, talk of nightmares

 Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list

"I need her," Hoseok murmurs to himself, absently dragging a finger through the oculus. The scrying pool ripples around his digit, distorting the scene playing out in it. It's some well-to-do, swanky bar with plush seats and twinkling fairy lights; but the main focus is the three 'friends' having a drink. He hates to think of them as friends, but that's how they've been labeled. He has peered through the pool enough times in the last few weeks to recognize the ebony-skinned fiend and the towering demon parading as a jockey ape that have attached themselves to the figure that holds his attention the most– the one that's utterly captivating to the point it's alarming for Hoseok– you. How and why those two rogue lechs latched themselves to you, he's yet to figure out.

"Ooo, is that the next one?" A bright, titillating voice asks from over his shoulder, ripping him from his thoughtful observations.

Hoseok glances back, eyes flicking over the figure behind him. The last thing he wants to deal with right now is Seokjin's over-eager bullshit. Annoyance pulls at the corners of his eyes but he forces his muscles to not flinch and give away the fact he'd rather bury his fist in Seokjin's perfect face than actually speak to him.

He turns, focusing back on the scene in the oculus. "Yes," he finally answers once he's sure his voice won't betray his inner turmoil. Not only does he wish to hit his own brother, but the fact you're now laughing at something the friend-disguised-fiend said on the oculus, stirs a green-tinged feeling deep in his belly. Jealousy is a bitter flavor on his tongue. It's one he hasn't tasted for a very, very long time. These desires should be beneath a being such as him. That's what The Rite was created for after all; to make the act of acquisition a transactional process and to remove all possible emotional conflicts. There is an order to these kinds of things, one he has no choice but to stick to.

He presses his lips into a thin line, willing the errant thoughts of familial violence and untoward bitterness away. The last thing he needs is one of his brothers picking up on his odd discomfort over the next oblation. It's not like there is anything inherently special about this one. You're merely human, not a speck of luster in your veins; he should just let one of his brothers have you. But, still, something tugs at him and makes him linger over the oculus just a moment longer, taking in the sensuous curve of your throat and the way you place a gentle hand on your demon friend's shoulder before he wills the image to disintegrate. It quickly fades away in a swirl of muddied colors until all that's left is the placid silver surface of the scrying device.

Seokjin steps up to the oculus, frowning down at the large pool. "Why'd you do that? I wanted to see more," he mutters, continuing to be oblivious to the way Hoseok is tensing beside him with barely restrained frustration.

"You'll get to see more soon enough. The Rite begins next week. We have plans to make. Call the others, we'll convene after we speak with Father." Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at Seokjin before turning and striding from the observatory and into the gloomy twilight space beyond. He disappears in a whirl of dust, not even waiting to hear if his brother offers a response.

                             ༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

Four shrouded figures gather around the gnarled stump of Ithid, the ancient soul-devouring tree that their father reaped when he formed the Kingdom of Dreams. Now, instead of unlit souls going through Ithid to the afterlife, they become a part of the Dreamscape where the God of Dreams uses them to further his Kingdom and power.

The ash-colored bark hums if anyone draws too close, remnants of the life force still clinging to the roots of the ancient gatekeeper. One false step is all it would take for Ithid to regain power. All it needs is a trickle, just enough essence to begin to thrive again. Which is why there is a permanent repulsion haze clinging to the withered remains of the once Guardian timbre. Anyone who gets closer, drawn in by the hum, succumbs to a crippling snare that will hold them in place until the God of Dreams comes to claim them.

There have only been a few unfortunate beings that have found themselves at the mercy of Morpheus in that way, weeping in the clutches of the spell. He will do anything within his power to keep Ithid from regaining the strength needed to resurrect. The Dreamscape relies on it remaining dormant. The four sons he sired were merely a means to an end, his own guardians created to help ensure that never happens.

"Hypnos sends his regards," the sudden, silken voice of the God of Dreams pierces the silence, drawing the attention of the gathered figures. Morpheus moves with grace, his black cloak floating out behind him like a gauzy shroud. "Finally, the time has come for our Kingdom to begin The Rite. Four of you means four oblations over four years, the first bestowed upon us soon. Have you decided who will receive first?"

Silence answers the God of Dreams. Finally, after a few more moments, one of the figures steps forward. "That has not been decided yet, Father. We were hoping to have more time to come to that conclusion."

Morpheus turns a curious eye on the speaker. "You all have known about this for centuries at this point. Have you not already had plenty of time for that? I expected more effort from my sons. Have I been too lax in my ways, allowing too much freedom in my realm?"

"We do as we're tasked. This is a decision we would rather not make lightly, as it does hold significant changes for the receivers," a second figure steps forward and offers.

Morpheus gives a derisive snort. "You have a week to make that decision, otherwise I'll be making it for you." With that, he coalesces into a swirl of golden sand that floats away with a sudden gust of stale, piny air.

"Well, that went well," another voice snarks.

"Shove it, Yoongi," the first figure, Namjoon, snaps. "Father is right, we should have made this decision long ago. We knew The Rite would be passed to our Kingdom after Hypnos'."

"Who do you propose, then?" Seokjin, the second figure, asks. He steps closer to Namjoon, letting the subtle glow from unseen lights highlight his features in stark relief. "Shall we draw straws?"

"I'll be the first," comes Namjoon's curt reply.

"Abso-fucking-lutely not."

Namjoon turns, taking in the last figure now stepping out of the gloom and into the light. "Hoseok, don't start. Going in order is the only way that truly makes sense and removes all responsibility of choice from our shoulders."

"No," Hoseok replies simply, drawing out the syllable in a monotone.

"Besides," Yoongi chips in, striding up alongside Hoseok, "if we went in order then Seokjin would go first, not you. Or have you been lulled away in the Dreamscape for so long that you've forgotten about our creation?"

Hoseok shakes his head. "Still not happening. I want her. I'm the one that was designated as the oculus sentinel. I'm the one that's been watching her, protecting her mind, so by rights, she should be mine."

"You're only the sentinel because the rest of us were busy actually doing our jobs." Seokjin crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at Hoseok.

The death glare that Hoseok turns on his brother would shrivel any mortal soul. Seokjin just scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You’d rather draw straws?” Hoseok mocks with his own eye roll.

“That was a joke, you jackass. Gods, act like you have some social skills. You’ve been hanging out with the quasi-deities far too much.”

Hoseok bares his teeth in a sneer, his white-blond hair ruffling across his forehead as he jerks his chin up. “Leave them out of this.” Seokjin may be his brother, but Hoseok doesn’t tolerate anyone bad-mouthing his friends like that.

Yoongi throws a hand in the air. “Shut up, the both of you. Father expects us to make this decision and you know if we don’t then he will take matters into his own hands. Now, we don’t want that, do we?”

Seokjin and Hoseok grumble in agreement, shifting their stances away from one another.

“Yoongi is right,” Namjoon says. “Instead of arguing over nonsensical bullshit, we need to come up with a solution to our problem. Preferably before Father steps in on our behalf.”

“What do you propose?” Hoseok asks, directing his question to Yoongi. “You’re the only one that hasn’t offered a suggestion or tried to stake a claim so far.”

Seokjin mutters under his breath about how his suggestion of drawing straws wasn’t truly a suggestion, but his irritated words go ignored. Yoongi glances around, eyes falling on the brittle bark of Ithid for a moment as he thinks.

Finally, he glances up, meeting the eyes of each of his brothers. “We let the oblation decide.”

Namjoon’s brow scrunches. “What? Do we just approach them and say ‘hey, I know this is weird, but you’re scheduled to die next week and one of us needs to claim your divine soul. Care to play eeny-meeny-miney-mo or maybe you can just spin around and blindly point?’ Not exactly a great idea there.”

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “If it were that easy, sure. But, no. I’m talking about taking the next week and we do what we do best. Infiltrate their dreams and give them a good dose of what we have to offer. Once they pass over and come into the Dreamscape, we can have them choose based on their experience. All souls have to go through a transition period before Father accepts them into the Kingdom anyway, that’s the perfect time to let them choose.” He shrugs like it’s a solid, genius plan.

“That’s kind of fucked up.” Hoseok chews his bottom lip. “But, so fucked up that I think I like it.”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon huffs. He shifts his weight, shoving one hand in the front pocket of his black pants and adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose with the other. As a Demi-God, the glasses are completely unnecessary, but Namjoon has picked up a few mortal quirks over the centuries. “Can we consider that truly fair? We need to set some ground rules.”

Yoongi nods but before he can offer anything further, Seokjin speaks up. “No sex. Absolutely no touching of the oblation at all.” He gives a pointed look to Namjoon, who is known to frequent the mortal realm the most; hence the acquired quirks. “We only reach out to them in their dreams.”

“That’s a given,” Yoongi raises an eyebrow and smirks, “knowing what The Rite involves, we should probably bar orgasms as a whole. That includes our own.” There is a collective groan from the others. “A necessary stipulation, but you all know as well as I do that’s the dangerous territory where an oblation is involved. Forming a bond with a mortal before their soul crosses over can be detrimental to our power and even our very existence.”

“Right,” Hoseok agrees. “No sex, no orgasms on either side, we only reach out through dreams. Anything else?”

They’re all quiet for a moment as they mull it over. Seokjin finally breaks the silence, “I’m okay with this if you all are, but who goes first?”

Hoseok slaps his brother on the back, a slow smile curving his lips, letting the gesture finish fizzling the hostility in the air between them. “We draw straws, of course.”

                             ༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

The balmy summer nighttime air feels good on your bare shoulders. You trail one of your index fingers through the condensation collecting at the bottom of your glass, the ice nearly melted away. Mel is going on about something, but you’ve long since tuned out the conversation between her and Gavin.

Your friends mean the world to you, even if you’ve only known them for a few years now. Melrose and Gavin are inseparable, they have been since the last foster home they shared together at seventeen. You know their story, all the highs and lows that make them who they are today. Not for the first time do you glance between the pair and think about what it would be like to have a connection like the one they share.

“Earth to Peach, are you listening to me?” Mel snaps her fingers in front of your face. The click of the colorful beads in her long braids adds to the pop from her digits. Dark eyebrows furrow over her chestnut eyes that frame either side of a straight nose with a buttoned tip. Her plump lips are pressed down into a frown, the electric purple lipstick coating them only amplifying the expression as it contrasts against her ebon complexion. 

You jerk back in your seat, your eyes locking onto hers. “What? Sorry, I was uh- just thinking about work,” you lie, picking up your drink to cover the guilt you know is plain on your face.

“Peachy, babe, don’t be like that. We’re your friends, you can be honest and tell Melrose to shut the fuck up if you don’t want to hear about Roy-the-roidhead for the hundredth time tonight,” Gavin offers with a knowing smile in your direction. His bright blue eyes catch the glimmering lights overhead, adding even more dazzle to how ridiculously handsome he is. His blond hair is immaculate as always, perfectly styled in a way that accentuates his smooth forehead and slim nose. He’s tall, broad in the shoulder but narrow in the waist; the body of someone who spends most of their free-time striving to be a real-life Adonis. It definitely shows.

You press your lips together before setting your glass down again. The watered-down rum and coke taste too sweet in your mouth. “You know how much I hate that name,” you murmur, ignoring the rest of his statement. They took to calling you Peach about a year ago. It started out innocent enough, the pair dotting over how sweet you are but over time it’s morphed into more salacious claims than anything.

Mel scoots her chair closer to yours and throws an arm over your shoulder. Her skin is warm against yours. “But you’re so sweet, Peach,” she winks and drags her teeth over her bottom lip. The purple lipstick holds true, a testament to the formula. Maybe you should ask her what brand it is, pick some up for yourself. You can’t help but smile, a soft laugh bubbling up your throat even as a blush colors your cheeks at her implication and your silly thoughts. “Now, as I was saying, Roy invited me…”

Just like that, the atmosphere shifts like you hadn’t been called out for ignoring the conversation. Though, you’re not sure if it’s for the better or not. Slowly, the words begin to turn into a buzz instead of the coherent rant from Melrose. You don’t mean to tune her out again, but your attention drifts and you find yourself back in your own thoughts. It’s a nice night to be out, at the beginning of the weekend, and the bar is full of life. The later it gets, the louder it will be in here and the more bodies that will fill the space. One more drink and you’re certain Gavin will ask you to dance. You hope he does, at least, as you could use the distraction from your own troubles.

Ever the reliable one, Gavin downs his next dirty martini and pushes back from the table. The squeak of the wooden chair legs against the linoleum flooring cuts Melrose off from her current tirade about Roy and his latest diet obsession. “Um, excuse you, Gav. Where the fuck do you think you’re going? I’m not finished with my story.”

Gavin gives her a saccharine smile and throws a ring-covered middle finger in her direction. “You’re boring me, Mel. I’m taking our friend here to go dance.” He turns to you, his eyebrows bouncing. “What do you say, Peach, ditch this snore fest and join me on the dance floor?”

You try to suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Sorry, Mel,” you offer, casting a quick glance her way. “Roy sounds great, though, I’m really happy for you,” you lie, yet again, considering you’ve no idea what Roy actually sounds like since you haven’t been paying attention to a word she’s said about him.

Before Melrose can respond, Gavin is grabbing you by the hand and tugging you up from your chair. You catch a menacing look ghosting over Melrose’s face before she schools it and rolls her eyes. “Whatever, assholes, Roy wanted to hang out tonight anyway. I’ll catch you both on Monday.”

“Sometimes I’d wish she’d just go hang out with her flavor of the week before spending a few hours with us and doing nothing but yapping about them,” Gavin says, leading you toward the crowded dance floor.

You’re not sure what to say in response to that. It’s not like you can blame Melrose. Guys are…well, guys. She gets bored and likes to keep life interesting. Which is more than you think you can say about your own love life. Your eyes flick over Gavin as he spins around and gives you a sly smile.

He tugs you close, slowly running his hands down your arms and letting them land on your hips. The song playing has a soft beat to it, not quite slow but not a quick thumping rhythm either. It’s perfect for the steady sway of your hips that Gavin sets, his hands helping you move with the music. His eyes slide closed and his chin tilts back, the smile still clinging to his lips. Lips that you’ve thought about kissing more than once. You don’t, though, because you can’t. It would be too awkward.

Gavin is your friend and you’re fairly certain he doesn’t see you in any sort of romantic light. He just really likes to dance and maybe you have a little crush that keeps you from ever saying no to him when he asks you to join him. His hands on your body, innocent as it may be, are an added bonus you file away for secret, personal enjoyment.

The jewel-toned halter top that Melrose talked you into wearing, gives Gavin access to more skin than you’d typically be putting on display. His hands travel from your hips and over your shoulders to play in the hair at the nape of your neck. Goosebumps pop up along your arms and down your spine. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip in an attempt to hide your grin.

You let yourself get lost in the moment, the freedom that dancing with Gavin brings you. The music changes, the next song is an instrumental remix of one of your favorites. “Fuck yeah, I love this song,” you gush, moving your hips at a faster pace.

“Be careful, Peach. You keep moving like that and I might want to take a bite.” The words out of Gavin’s mouth have your hips stuttering to a stop. You stare at him wide-eyed until he realizes you’ve stopped moving. His chin drops and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t stop,” he teases and drops his hands back to your hips, giving them a squeeze. “Unless you want to.”

Your hips automatically start back up, as if they have a mind of their own. “You’re funny,” you mutter with a shake of your head.

Gavin leans in close, his body pressing closer to yours than it’s ever been. He’s so close you can feel the tug and rub of his clothes moving across yours, the rough braid of his jeans against your thinner ones. The close proximity has a surge of heat flaming into your cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” his voice is low, a husky whisper that tickles your ear. He chuckles when you let out a small, strangled sound instead of a response. “Oh, Peach, if you only knew,” he continues, pulling back and giving you a meaningful look.

Maybe it’s a testament to how truly desperate you are in the romantic department, but Gavin’s words stick with you. Even after you part ways outside the bar. He heads in one direction and you go in the other. Gavin and Melrose live next to each other, in quaint little townhouses that are on the other side of town.

You inherited your house from your grandparents. It’s cute in its own way, cozy and full of wonderful memories. The drive to your place is nearly double the drive to their places from your job. You all work at the same marketing firm that’s just a few blocks from the bar you’re walking away from.

It’s been hours since your last drink. Your aching feet can attest to at least four of them spent dancing with Gavin. He also practically drowned you with cup after cup of water in between songs. It’s tempting to call for an Uber, simply because exhaustion is starting to set in and the last thing you feel like doing is concentrating on the road for thirty minutes. But, you take a deep breath and slide behind the wheel anyway.

An hour later you’re pulling an oversized t-shirt on and climbing into bed. Despite the fatigue sitting heavy on your chest, you can’t bring yourself to close your eyes. There’s a reason you agreed to go out tonight even when you didn’t really want to. It’s the same reason you’ve been staying up until ridiculous hours in the morning all week while still managing to crawl into work on time. Caffeine has become a constant crutch that you cling to. The headaches and lethargy from lack of sleep can’t compare to what comes when you close your eyes; the nightmares that leave you sweaty and choking on the taste of fear.

Sleep paralysis is what the doctor called it. You prefer to think of it as your own personal demon. It’s been so long since you’ve had a peaceful night of sleep, one not plagued with thrashing and low whimpers that ultimately lead to your eyes staring at the ceiling and your body feeling like it’s at the bottom of the ocean. That’s what scares you the most, the pressure.

You slap a hand on your cheek a few times, willing the exhaustion to recede. It doesn’t. The thought of getting out of bed and fixing a cup of coffee drifts through but it slithers through your grasp as your eyes flutter shut. It’s impossible to resist the pull. A low, pained moan sounds in your throat as sleep washes in on a wave of utter darkness.

                             ༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

There aren’t many things that Hoseok enjoys more than entering someone’s dreams. It’s a seamless process, sliding into the gaps of consciousness. His brothers thought he was kidding when he suggested using Seokjin’s joke as a way to choose. They all grumbled a little when he pulled the longest straw, giving him the role of going first. Hoseok loves first impressions, they’re so impactful. Plus, he has a little surprise up his proverbial sleeve that he thinks you’ll never forget.

“Hey, Hoseok!” Speaking of, what’s that phrase, ‘speak of the devil and…’? Hoseok turns slowly from his observation of the oculus to the newcomer.

“Jimin, thanks for coming.” His eyes rove over the other being, taking in the slim cut of his suit. Always dressed to impress, he doesn’t disappoint. Jimin is perfect for what Hoseok has in mind.

Jimin sidles up beside Hoseok to gaze into the scrying pool. “The others won’t be far behind.” He gestures to the oculus, “That the one?”

Hoseok gives an affirming hum. “Like clockwork, the tall one will be asking her to dance soon. Then the fun begins.”

“Oh, good. We didn’t miss the party.” Two figures step out from one of the balconies, arms linked together. Jungkook and Taehyung look just as good as Jimin in their trim pants and button-downs.

“What Taehyung really means to say is it’s good to see you Hoseok and we’re looking forward to whatever it is you have for us to do,” Jungkook uses his elbow wrapped around the other man’s arm to bump him in the ribs.

Hoseok grins, feeling the anxiety quickly draining away just from being in their presence. Seokjin called them quasi-deities, and that may be technically correct, but they’re also his best friends and know him better than any of his brothers ever could even pretend to.

“It’s good to see you guys, too,” Hoseok agrees. “Shall we?” He turns back to the oculus, willing it to focus on you, out yet again with the two creatures he’s come to loathe.

Jungkook and Taehyung crowd in between Jimin and Hoseok. “Who’re the creeps?”

Hoseok’s lip curls in disgust. “Some sort of dream fiends. I haven’t been able to figure out where they came from or what their intentions are. None of my brothers know them and if I ask Father, he’d only give me some backward response that really isn’t a response. So, I can only assume they came from him or maybe remnants from Hypnos’ temper tantrum a few centuries ago.” He shrugs, but the fact he can’t pinpoint your two friends really bothers him. He needs first-hand information.

“Should we take care of them while we’re at it?” Jungkook asks. “Low-tier dreams like that are easy enough to dissolve.”

It’s a good thought, something Hoseok already has considered. “Get a feel for them, if you think they pose a potential threat then take them out. Otherwise, let’s just stick to the plan.” He continues, explaining in detail exactly what he wants from his three friends.

The three quasi-deities laugh. A sound that Hoseok plans to use to his advantage. You have no idea what he has in mind for you tonight. After he watched you toss and turn every night this week and crawl out of bed with tears in your eyes this morning, you deserve a little fun- and he’s the one that intends to deliver it.

                            ༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

Like a rinse and repeat cycle, you’re back at The Well House with Melrose and Gavin. It’s a Saturday night and you’re certain you’d rather be at home in bed right now. But, last night was an especially brutal one. All week has been one tortuous night after another. The nightmarish episodes seem to only be getting worse. You almost didn’t bother with functioning today because it physically hurt to drag yourself out of bed. The nightmares felt so real, the darkness that caressed your mind like a tangible thing.

“You look tired, Peach,” Melrose frowns, tilting her head to the side as she scans your face.

You grimace. “Uh, yeah, I didn't sleep great last night.”

“Maybe what you need is to wear yourself out, that always helps me sleep like a baby,” Gavin offers. You know exactly the kind of wearing out he’s thinking about. He’s almost finished with his third drink of the night meaning it’s nearly time to hit the dance floor.

As tempting as it is to lose yourself in dancing with Gavin tonight, you’re simply not sure if you can physically do that. The weight of your eyelids alone could keep you rooted to this chair for the next week if you’d let it.

“Not sure I can even stand at this point,” you mumble, knocking back a large gulp of your drink. “I probably should just call an Uber and head home, honestly.”

Melrose throws herself back in her chair, an arm dramatically draped over her eyes. “No! You can’t leave. The night is still young, come on, promise you won’t leave me with this asshole.” The arm over her eyes flings out toward Gavin who just barks a laugh, shaking his head.

“How about this, you give me one dance and if you’re still feeling like this then I’ll order you an Uber myself?” Gavin steeples his hands together in front of his chest, lips turned down in an exaggerated frown. “Please, Peach.”

You glance at Melrose who now has her arms crossed over her chest and is glaring at Gavin. She catches your eyes, her demeanor instantly changing and she gives you a smile and nods that it’s okay. “One dance,” you say, looking toward Gavin, “then you call me an Uber.”

“If that’s what you still want, then, yes.”

Melrose doesn’t usually dance. But, tonight she follows you and Gavin to the crowded expanse of polished wood that serves as a dance floor. It’s not too late into the night, so the crowd isn’t nearly as pressing as it normally is when you’re dancing with Gavin. Even so, he pulls you in close, as close as he was the other night. The music is slow, grinding with a thumping bass beat. Melrose melts into the crowd until you lose sight of her completely.

Dancing becomes mindless, just a blur of movement and the increasing beat of your heart. The song ends but you don’t stop dancing as it bleeds into the next one. Gavin’s hands migrate along your body. They trail over your arms, hips, and shoulders, offering touches that do nothing to quell the sizzle of attraction you have for him. Your exhaustion wanes with every passing beat and sway of your hips.

A throaty laugh breaks through your mental fog and draws your attention. Three men dance together to your left, their bodies meshed together so thoroughly you can’t tell where one ends and the others begin. They’re all devilishly handsome, maybe even more than Gavin which you would have once thought was impossible.

Gavin is pressed against your back, hands gripping your hips. You can feel his warm breath gusting over your ear and down your neck as he crowds in closer. The air feels thicker, charged with static energy. The dancing trio is suddenly right in front of you. You tell yourself they’re just moving with the crowd, that their shift couldn’t possibly have been deliberate; until one of them looks you in the eye and winks.

“Hi, pretty lady,” his charming voice carries to you over the thrumming bass beat. The gorgeous man might as well have spoken a spell because you’re suddenly enchanted. The two men moving along with him to the music give you heated smiles, the ones you only read about in romance novels.

Gavin’s hands on your hips tighten a fraction, bringing your attention back to your friend still dancing at your back. “Eyes on me, Peach,” Gavin sing-songs as his strong hands guide you around until you’re facing him. He pulls you close, fitting your smaller frame against his towering one. Warmth bleeds through the silk of your blouse where his large palms now rest on your lower back. You barely register the occasional flick of Gavin’s icy eyes over your shoulder until you feel a larger warmth against your back.

“Easy, friend, we just want to dance,” the same charming voice from before is so close you jerk in Gavin’s arms. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Gavin’s jaw ticks, his lips pressing into a harsh line that mirrors the one now creased between his blond brows. “Of course not,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. His eyes peer down into yours, the icy chips now full of storm clouds. “I’m going to go grab a drink, Peach, I’ll be right back.”

Before you’re able to formulate a response, Gavin is peeling himself away and disappearing through the throng of dancers. “There, that’s much better,” one of the other men chuckles. He sidesteps until he’s taking up the vacant spot Gavin just left. “Hi,” he waggles an eyebrow at you, “you’re an excellent dancer.”

The self-deprecating snort that works its way out of your throat has heat flaring through your cheeks. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“How adorable, she lights up like a Christmas tree when she’s embarrassed,” the third man sniggers, mischief twinkling in his dark eyes when he moves in closer to your side. All three of them press in closer, their bodies moving in time with yours.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gained new dance partners while out with Melrose and Gavin, but it is the first time Gavin has left you on the dance floor like this. Maybe it should be alarming, being alone with three complete strangers, but there is something about them that feels comforting.

Gavin and Melrose both appear out of nowhere, Gavin’s large hands gripping your arms and trying to tug you from the middle of the three men. “Let’s go, Peach.”

The man at your back snags Gavin’s hands and tosses them away. “Don’t put your hands on her like that. You may be her friend,” he snarls, twisting the word with disgust like it will hurt more that way, “but right now you’re being more of a nightmare than anything else.”

Gavin bares his own teeth but his eyes narrow the slightest bit and Melrose scowls. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” she offers in a tone that’s alarmingly caustic.

The man pressed to your front slowly steps away and moves into Gavin’s personal space. He leans in and whispers directly into Gavin’s ear. Your friend blanches, jerking back away from the man. Melrose steps up like she’s about to confront the man but Gavin shakes his head and pushes her behind him and out of sight. The hostility slowly dissipates from the air, draining away until you feel like you can breathe again, not realizing you had been holding your breath. Gavin turns his eyes on you. “Have a good night, Peach, we’ll see you…um, when we see you.”

His odd farewell has a weird feeling settling in your belly. Suddenly, you’re not so sure you should be dancing with these guys, considering they just ran your friends off somehow. Sure, you don’t like the way Gavin grabbed your arm, but he’s still your friend and you don’t even know these guys.

“Er, I should probably go,” you begin to try and untangle yourself from the other two men.

The man that got in Gavin’s face turns and shakes his head at you, a slow smile pulling at his plump lips. “Nonsense, we’re just getting started. I’m Jimin, and this is Jungkook,” he gestures to the man at your back, “and this is Taehyung.” Jimin places a hand on the man at your side’s shoulder.

They’re so close you can really see their features. Strong jaws, masculine builds, and perfectly styled hair above dark chocolate eyes that seem to peer right into your soul– these men are what dreams are made of.

“Let’s keep dancing,” Jungkook nudges your ass with his hips. “You look like you could use the stress reliever.”

He’s not wrong. You laugh ruefully as you let them guide you back into a sensual rhythm. Slowly, the tension from the confrontation with your friends begins to bleed away, replaced with a calming sort of lull that’s filled with music and the weighty press of their bodies against yours.

You lose track of hands, feeling strong fingers grip or caress over various parts of your form. You think it’s Jimin maybe, or could be Taehyung, who first presses lips to your neck. The sensation sends tingles down your spine and has your eyes fluttering shut. “You’re beautiful when you let go. I’m so jealous,” Jungkook murmurs in your ear. He presses in close to your front, hands secured to your waist. 

“Hmm?” you try to open your eyes but your lids are so heavy. You want to ask Jungkook what he means about being jealous. The words won’t form. All you can do is lick your lips and rub them together. Your mouth feels sticky, sweet in a way, like you just ate a bit of honey.

“Just keep dancing, pretty lady, we got you.” The words barely register before numbing darkness sweeps in and you’re floating in the one place you’ve been trying to avoid– your dreams.

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list

◅ Master List ©️   2022-11-24   ColorMePurplex2

[proceduralpassion]

It Would Be So Simple | Chapter 05

Series Masterlist

Fic Playlist

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x OC

Summary/synopsis: Horacio and Kiara have split after the disintegration of their marriage. Some time later, Horacio is alarmed when he receives word that Kiara may be missing

Chapter warning(s): language, angst city

WC: ~6.6k

PAST

There she was again. 

If Horacio was a man that believed in fate, he would feel there was something destined to take place between him and the young woman he found himself staring at outside the cafe. It had been another week since their last encounter at the park and now he was preparing to enter the cafe he usually relaxed at on Saturday afternoons. Except, he was now frozen in place outside when he spotted her sitting at a window seat, with a book in hand. It was only the potential embarrassment of looking like a stalker that made him open the door and walk in. 

Kiara was too engrossed in her book to even take stock of the quiet cafe’s door opening or the soft step of the man’s shoes as he wandered over to the register.

The barista already knew his order and rang up his coffee and dessert before getting everything together. Usually, he’d oblige the kind lady who ran the cafe and go ahead and sit at his usual spot, but he was rooted where he stood, wondering what he should do. 

She’d been on his mind all week, his attention flashing back to her in those quiet moments when he thought about her vibrancy. A spirited personality, one so bright that he had never encountered before. His own spirit was drawn to hers in ways that he couldn’t help.

Their short lived conversations were etches of dialogue that ran through his head everyday at multiple points throughout. Even now, as he grabbed his coffee and the arroz con leche that Señora Gómez refused to charge him for, he thinks back to their conversation in the park last week and how she wouldn’t let him apologize for not showing up at the bar when she invited him. 

How she instead asked him about his ribs, which were still sore. How she said she hoped he wouldn’t need to use her number for his injury and then winked. 

He was expecting hurt feelings or a testy attitude for standing her up and he was met with honey laughter and her phone number. He supposed being easy going was just in her nature, with the way she navigated the busy medical sphere during their first encounter. And then there was the fact she came from a background of moving around a lot if her stepfather’s United Nations post was any indication. 

Without dissuading his feet from the motion, he began moving towards her instead of settling at his usual corner on the opposite side of the little shop. She only looked up finally when he spoke.

“Is this seat taken?”

He was greeted with the brightest of smiles as she stood up, “Horacio!” 

She hugged him like they were old childhood friends and the soldier might have felt his heart rate halt. 

“Come on, sit! How are you?” 

They settled in their seats simultaneously, and Horacio felt his lips broaden.

“I see you’ve managed not to get yourself blown up again since the last time I saw you,” she noted with a teeth baring smile. 

He looked down with a muted grin.

“Those ribs haven’t been giving you much trouble, have they?” she inquired. 

“Not much, no,” He shook his head. And while he was still dealing with some soreness, he was very much on his way to healing completely. The bruises had faded and his scars were healing. Monday would be his first day back on duty.

“Good. I guess that explains why you haven’t called.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully, having fun trying to tease him. He managed not to blush or stumble over his own tongue as he chuckled at her antics. He still wasn’t sure how or where he gathered the gall to ask her for her number in the first place. And, in that time since, it hadn’t occurred to him that he could simply pick up the phone and speak to her instead of allowing his thoughts to run wild with what she may be doing or what her life had been like up until now. He could just ask.

Kiara giggled into her coffee, “It’s fun making you squirm.”

Horacio shared her simper before looking down at her book. “I see you’re reading a modern classic.”

“One Hundred Years of Solitude” in its native Spanish was strewn across the square dining table, the pages turned downward with aged creases forming along its spine. 

The young nursing student nodded, “Yeah, kind of an old comfort book I go back to when I’m not interested in reading anything new.” 

“What’re your other favorites?” Horacio asked as he leaned back in his chair.

“Hm… Well, I know they’re children’s books, but I really love the Nancy Drew series. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, The Bluest Eye. Oh, and A World for Julius! Another modern classic, I think.”

He nodded his head, listening intently, taking in the titles he recognized and the ones he didn’t. He noted, “You’re an avid reader.” 

Kiara shrugged, “I mean, I don’t really get a lot of time to do so these days, but yeah, it’s a nice way to spend a lazy day.”

“I guess I should probably leave you to it, then,” he moved to stand, but she grabbed at his hand with the shake of her head. 

“Stay. I like the company.” 

Her hand lingered in his until he shifted back into his seat with a nod.

Their quiet afternoon continued with Kiara engrossed in her book and Horacio enjoying the serenity. Sometimes, Horacio would bring a book himself to read and other times, he’d just spend his time at the cafe, enjoying the quiet and taking in the lush, vibrant surroundings of this neighborhood. Señora Gómez brought over more coffee for them and switched the radio’s station from the cumbia music to a station that played more slowed down rock tracks from local indie bands. 

Once Kiara got to a stopping point at the end of a chapter, she looked up and put her book back down. 

“So, is this place a regular spot for you? Or do you like exploring different places like me?”

“It’s more of a staple for me. I’ve explored Bogota enough for this to be my favorite cafe.” 

Kiara looked at him, measuring him up, “Yeah, this seems like your vibe. Quiet, deep in the cut…”

The cafe was nestled in a little nook between larger buildings and on a less populated road, which might account for the little foot traffic the business drummed up. 

Horacio exchanged a questioning look and out of curiosity, asked, “What? It’s not really your vibe?”

She giggled at his mirroring of her lingo and the teasing glint in his eyes told her that he was purposefully mocking her, “Well, it’s definitely a vibe, but… If I wanted quiet, I’d just go to a library. I like hearing the hustle and bustle of life around me when I’m in a coffee shop.”

“Somehow, I don’t find that surprising at all,” he mused. 

“Really?” her eyebrows perked up, “figured you’d peg this girl as the small town type. Slow and breezy.”

“Your personality is way too big for the small town persona.”

She couldn’t hide her smile at that statement, but looked down nonetheless. The glint of Horacio’s watch caught her eye and she grabbed at his arm to confirm what time it was.

“Oh, shoot! I’ve gotta go, I’m supposed to be meeting with my brother.”

Kiara had shot out of her seat and Horacio slowly rose with her. He gleaned over her as she grabbed her book and stuffed it into her tote bag.

“The brother that works for Interpol, I presume.”

“The one and only!”

Time was moving so fast in just those few seconds and Horacio was panicking at the thought of this being his last chance at fate. What if he never saw her again? What if their paths never again crossed? Sure, he had her number, but what reason would he have to contact her now that he was mostly healed? 

“Would you mind if I came along with you?” 

The words were tossed out before his tongue could reel them back in.

Confusion colored Kiara’s features, “To meet my brother?”

“Yes, that explosion the other week was carried out by international traffickers. We’ve been trying to find a link to which other countries they have reach in. Perhaps, your brother has some intel that might help give us a lead.”

It’s not that everything he just spewed out of his mouth was untrue. It actually was. But Horacio was a soldier. He may be involved with drug interdiction cases but more so as muscle. In a tactical role. Gathering intelligence and putting together cases was out of his wheelhouse and thus not really something he should be concerning himself with. He winced internally at his request and was about to open his mouth to retract before Kiara beat him to the punch.

“Oh!” she said in understanding, “Yeah, no problem!”

She put her tote bag over her shoulder and led the way outside. She looked back once they were outside, “I actually walked here…”

“We can take my car.” 

Once they settled into the Jeep Laredo, Kiara looked over at him and smiled, “I don’t know why, but this just fits you.” 

She patted the passenger seat as she spoke.

“Oh, it seems like my ‘vibe’?”

Kiara cracked up and retorted, “Okay, if you’re gonna steal my lingo, that means you have to teach me some Colombian idioms or something.”

He looked over at her briefly with a teasing smile before returning his eyes to the cobble-stoned road, “It’s a promise.”

*********

“We’ve been following some known figure heads mainly and trying to keep track of any peculiar communication, but nothing’s really stuck. We didn’t even get any kind of prior warning about the runners getting spooked from you guys moving in on them,” Laz explained.

The trio was standing in a shaded portion of the same park that Horacio and Kiara met in the other week. Once Kiara introduced the two of them, she’d let them take over the conversation with just a slight prod at Laz to give any helpful info to Horacio straight. 

“What about any noise being made afterwards? Only a few of them were arrested at the scene and they were all foot soldiers.”

Laz shrugged, “These guys are good. That’s why they’ve been able to evade capture in whatever country they pop up in. It’s like whack-a-mole. Knock ‘em down in one place, eventually they turn up somewhere else. Honestly, I don’t even think they’ll be much of a problem for you moving forward because they’re not intent on getting caught up twice.”

Maybe it should’ve, but it didn’t give Horacio much comfort. He didn’t want them to no longer be a problem because they retreated into the darkness. He wanted them to no longer be a problem because they were brought into the light for justice to be carried out. For them to be expelled out from the places they sought refuge in his land. 

Still though, he nodded in appreciation at Laz and then at Kiara. Though he was grateful for the information, his main reason for coming here was simply because he wasn’t ready to be away from this vibrant being that had somehow caught his eye. And now it was time to leave. 

“Thank you,” he spoke to Laz before taking a step back, “I guess I should leave you two. I enjoyed the coffee with you,” he admitted, looking expressly at Kiara.

She smiled brightly, “Ditto.” 

She saw him begin to turn away and her face paused for a minute. Without another thought, she called him back.

“Come back to the hospital on Monday to get your lungs checked. We’ll see if you were telling the truth about doing those breathing exercises I told you about.”

Horacio nodded once again, internally beaming at another chance to be in her stratosphere. 

“Si, señorita.” 

Kiara watched him walk away and head towards his Jeep. Laz watched between the two of them with a curious eye and smirked at his little sister.

“I didn’t know you were dating.”

Her head snapped to him with widened eyes, “I’m not!” 

Laz’s face morphed into a “really?” expression before she put her hands up in defense with a laugh.

“I’m not! I’m serious. We’re just friends. ….If that. I treated him at the hospital.”

Her older brother nearly hummed but said nothing further. 

*****

Horacio did indeed show up at the hospital’s emergency room on Monday. There was a rare slow dull to her shift and she had just returned to the nurse’s station from a coffee break when a coworker nodded her head towards someone. 

Kiara followed the nudge and saw him standing awkwardly in the hallway.

“He asked for you.”

Her smile lit up as she traipsed over to where he stood. 

“Capitán Carrillo…” 

“Enfemera Nash..”

“Estudiante, técnicamente,” she corrected.

He nodded his head side to side in a playful manner that reflected “neither here nor there” but only hummed in his verbal response. 

“Shall we?” She gestured towards a small room that he turned around and led her into before sitting in the sole chair of the examination room. At her silent bequest, he took his shirt off.

The bruisings were now tinges of fading yellows compared to the dark splotches of purple that were spread over his frame these past couple of weeks. She softly palpated her fingers along the tender pigmentations, and found that they were no longer sensitive to her touch. There was still some swelling on his right side where the broken ribs were, but the skin was less elevated than before. His ribs were on track to being almost completely healed.

She listened to his heart and lungs and found a strong heartbeat and clear airways. 

“Well, it looks like you’ve been following orders,” she noted as she placed the stethoscope back around her neck.

“Provocations of being a soldier.”

She smiled at his comment and gestured with her head for him to stand up, “Let’s just do a few exercises so I can check on your range of motion.”

He followed along with her directions, moving whichever way she directed and answering her questions truthfully.

“My brother called. Asked if there was anything else he could do to help… He was a little disappointed he couldn’t give you a lot to go on.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her statement as he shrugged his shoulders against her resistance. 

“It’s fine. To be truthful, I knew to be expecting a miracle,” he sighed his own regret, “It’s just beginning to get frustrating, that’s all. To constantly feel behind the curve.”

Kiara could hear the tiredness in his voice. She hummed her sympathy, “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re doing everything you can do.”

“That’s just it. It used to be enough. I used to think I was doing everything I could do. Now, I’m not so sure.”

She gleaned the weariness in his features and asked softly, “You holding up okay?”

Almost like he was just caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he shook his head, washing the exhaustion off his face and replacing it with a placating smile.

“Yeah… yeah.”

He looked back at her, his narrowed eyes wondering how much she could see through him. The face she wore was one of indifference but there was something in the way that she studied him. Something that told him she knew more than she let on. He wasn’t sure what he appreciated more in that moment: the fact that she could see the inner turmoils in his head or the fact that her raised eyebrow told him that she knew he knew that she could see the pensiveness in him.

He looked down when she took two steps back from him, finished with testing his strength and range of motion.

“All done,” she announced as she handed him back his shirt and then went to the sink to wash her hands. When she walked back towards him, he was still standing in the same spot, now fully clothed.

He looked at her, breathing relaxed breaths, but unable to voice what he was looking for right now. 

But still…

She knew.

“You can be doing everything right and it’s still not enough. Maybe, take that as a chance to figure out what “enough” means to you.”

She shrugged her shoulders and turned towards the door, “At least, that’s what I have to do when I feel like I’m at a fork in the road.” 

“And what do you do from there?” He asked, willing her to stay in the room with him for just a few more seconds.

She turns back and smiles. 

“There’s only two directions you can go. You take the one that feels right and pray to God you’re fast enough to turn back around if you’re wrong as shit.”

______

PRESENT

“I just needed to hear your voice.”

Horacio sat there momentarily stunned at the sound of his ex-wife’s voice. He never thought he’d hear from her again and several emotions pulsed through him as he processed her voice. 

There’d been so many times over the past two months that he wanted to call her. It’d been the longest they’d gone without hearing from each other and it felt like a piece of him was rotting the longer time went on. Now, it felt like those miniscule pieces of his soul were floating back to his core. And his heart warmed because if she was calling, maybe she was going through the same emotions. The racing impulses just to hear each other. Thirty seconds into answering the phone and he could already feel so much stress from his everyday life lifting. 

“Horacio? …Are you there?”

She brought him back into focus from the airiness that had short-circuited his brain. A swelling of air entered his lungs as he heaved a deep breath, still savoring the peace that was calming him. 

“I’m here, Kiara,” he finally said. He heard a relieved sigh from her end and he wasn’t sure if it came from the fact that he hadn’t hung up on her or maybe she was experiencing the same sort of bliss that was now hovering around him.

“How -uh… How are you?” 

He closed his eyes, always hating when he could hear tentativeness coming from the voice of one of the most confident people he knew. He never used to hear her sound like that whenever she spoke to him. And now it was etched into every word she spoke. He knew he was the cause of it and it burned him up inside. 

“I’m…” He paused, wondering what the best course of action was here. Should he be honest? Tell her that he’s been struggling internally ever since their last phone call? Tell her that he always envisioned ridding his country of one of the most notorious malefactors as one of his greatest purposes and he never expected to feel so empty afterwards? Or does he tell her that he’s perfectly fine? That life goes on and he’s riding the waves of it in stride? 

He settles for, “I’m hanging in there.” 

There was silence over the line. Neither of them knew where to go next. How to even hold a conversation with someone you were used to having thousands of conversations with for over a decade. He didn’t know what she wanted from this conversation, considering she called, but he wasn’t sure what he wanted from their call either.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m sorry for just calling out of the blue.”

Their voices were mended together as the words left their mouth at the same time. 

More silence as the other person’s words sunk in.

“Sorry,” he chuckled apologetically. 

“It’s okay,” he could hear the smile in her voice and it filled him with so much warmth.

She spoke again, “I’m sorry I called you. I know you said we shouldn’t talk anymore, I just-”

 “Kiara,” He interrupted her with a soft sigh, “It’s okay. If I’m being honest, I’ve thought a lot about calling you over the past few weeks. It’s good to hear from you.”

“Really?”

The pang of shock in her voice sent aches to his chest. This never should’ve happened. They never should have fallen this far apart. 

“Really,” he echoed, “How is it over there? Is it everything you wanted?”

He hadn’t meant for his tone to come across so sorrowful. She stayed quiet on the other end and hoped that he hadn’t brought up their shared sense of resentment. The words had slipped out so easily from behind his mental guard rail. Almost like he was searching for some sort of comfort in this anguish. And her living out her dreams was probably the single piece of solace he’d find in this. 

“I never meant for this to ruin us, Horacio.”

She hadn’t answered the question. Perhaps to spare his feelings, he thought. To not throw in his face that she was living the life that she wanted and it was without him.

“I know,” he whispered. 

And for a few instances, all that could be heard was the sound of their breathing.

He finally worked up the nerve to ask, “Why did you call?”

“I just needed to hear your voice,” she parroted her earlier statement. 

He didn’t know what to do with that or how to even respond. 

“I should let you go… I’ve taken up enough of your time.” 

Her voice had gone from laced with emotion to clear and more formal. The resonant voice she’d use in the clinical setting when dealing with patients. She was speaking to him like a patient, very much unlike all the times he actually was her patient.

“Wait, Kiara-”

Maybe he just needed to hear her voice, too. And he wasn’t ready to let go of it. Maybe she had it right and it was time for them to get off the phone, but he couldn’t let go. Not when he was unsure when the next time they spoke would be. Not when he was unsure whether they’d ever speak again.

“Why were you calling me from a different number? It’s unlisted, did you move?”

He heard her pause. It was a simple question, one that should’ve yielded a simple response.

“Was it because you thought I wouldn’t answer if I saw your number?” He guessed when she wasn’t fast enough to provide an answer herself, “Because I would’ve answered if you called. I’d always answer, Kiara.”

“I have to go, Horacio, I’m sorry.” 

He frowned, unsure of why she was apologizing. She was slipping away. There wasn’t enough time. He wasn’t ready. 

“Stay safe, okay?” She spoke with urgency. With desperation. “Please stay safe.”

“You too,” he spoke strongly, conveying the brawn of being a colonel but the tenderness of a husband. He hoped either or both brought her comfort.

“Goodbye, Horacio.”

She’d hung up before he got the chance to wish her the same. He placed the phone back on its hook and frowned, feeling unnerved. The entire conversation left him feeling conflicted throughout. But even still, he could’ve stayed on the phone with her for hours. If just to hear her breathing. She needed to hear his voice and somehow she knew he sought the same. Still, the call ended much too abruptly for his taste and it left him feeling the confused disorientation after waking up from a hangover. He pressed his palms against his sinuses and forehead, uneasiness flaring up as he combed over their conversation. He could’ve never imagined that speaking to Kiara for the first time in months would’ve left him feeling so lost and perplexed.

________

“Dammit!” Laz muttered under his breath as he finished listening to his voicemail, slamming the phone back into its receiver. Confused and concerned glances from his co-workers floated around the room as they took in their disgruntled colleague. No one knew why he had been exhibiting gradual unease as the days went by and no one was sure they wanted to enter his path of irritation. Their caseload at Interpol was slow right now and that usually indicated a jovial work environment. But there was nothing but silent tension aerating over the space as the man laid a heavy fist down on his desk.

“What the hell is going on?” 

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, willing his mind to make sense of what seemed so fuzzy right now.

Nothing made sense and it pissed him off to no end.

It also didn’t help that he couldn’t get the image of his ex-brother in law with a woman inside his house outside of his head. He should’ve known better than to believe all the shit Pena was spewing about Horacio being broken up and barely able to function without Kiara. The DEA agent stood in front of him and lied about how the head of the Search Bloc had been struggling all this time when clearly that wasn’t the case. And of course, he fucking bought it. Bought it enough to pull up to the house that Kiara used to live in and seek out Horacio to let him know what was going on. Oh, what a surprise it was to walk in on what he walked in on. Horacio Carrillo doing just fine without Kiara.

He leaned back in his seat behind his desk and scoffed. Still in disbelief at the sight that had met his eyes when he was at the man’s door. Another woman in the home that he shared with his wife. With Laz’s sister. The home Horacio had let Kiara pick because he declared that all he needed was a bed and a shower. The home where she learned how to juice fresh fruits after discovering passion fruit vines in the backyard. The home where they conceived and then lost their child. All of these memories forged, for better and for worse in that house, and they meant not a damn thing to Horacio. Seeing Horacio and that woman so comfortable in the home that used to be Kiara's, it made Laz sick. And so incredibly angry.

As far as Laz was concerned, Kiara had just left. And everyday, he was pissed at her for just up and abandoning him, but he also just missed her so much to the point where it felt like he was mourning her as if she’d died. He was desperate for her to come back home. He thought he shared that sentiment with Horacio, the one commonality they had. And obviously he could see he’d been very wrong in thinking that. He wanted to believe that his sister was the love of Horacio’s life, but it never seemed to ring true. At least, since she left. Laz had only had small glimpses of the man since she left and he was always the hardened, cold colonel in every one of those instances. 

Laz blew out another deep breath and lifted his head to the ceiling. He shook his head at himself, knowing that was his anger talking. The man always walked around like he had a stick up his ass. That was true, even when he was with Kiara. But he could see when Kiara would pull back her husband’s layers and melt some of the man’s coldness away. How she would run to him and make him pick her up ever since the Dirty Dancing movie came out. How Horacio would listen to her rant about something trivial and respond with an amused, muted “Yes, dear” whenever she asked if he agreed. Laz knew the love was there when they were together. He was foolish to deny otherwise. But he just couldn’t understand how it all went to shit. How they went from that to this. Her in an entirely different country and him with another woman in their house.

If he learned anything from today, it was that he’d be on his own when it came to finding Kiara. He couldn’t rely on Horacio’s help or anyone’s really. It was up to him to figure out what was going on.

No one in the shared office space had uttered a word to the emotionally volatile Interpol agent but weary eyes exchanged silent messages of concern across the room. Laz paid them no mind until one of them hesitantly made his way to Laz’s desk.

“Everything okay, Laz?” 

He looked up and could tell that even though most heads were down into their work, they were, more than likely, eavesdropping.

“I’m good,” he nodded his head with a smile he didn’t even bother to make real, “Just need to talk to the boss man, y’all have a good night.”

He rose up from his seat and walked down the hall to the office of his boss, giving a salute to the rest of his colleagues in doing so. The office door was open and he peeked in before knocking. 

Michael Luna was the head agent in charge in the Colombian division of Interpol and his head was currently deep in a stack of files, pen in hand, marking important notes in the margins. 

He looked up at the sound of Laz knocking and gestured for the man to come in.

“Got a second?”

Luna nodded, still holding his pen in hand, “What do you need, Laz?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“My sister.”

___________________

It was so scorching that Horacio had only been outside in the sun for a few minutes before sweat began to drip down the side of his face. He’d been outside since he was leading a drill with a collective of young officers, making sure they were maintaining the physical rigor that came with their posts.

That wasn’t really in his job description anymore since he’d reached the rank of colonel, which was why his drill this morning had raised a few eyebrows. 

Trujillo exchanged an expression of concern with Peña before walking over to him after Carrillo had left for outside to start the drill.

“His sudden change in demeanor got anything to do with you know who?”

Peña rolled his eyes, “She’s not Satan, Trujillo, you can say her name.” 

Trujillo raised his hands up in defense. Still though, Peña answered, “I don’t know.” 

Meanwhile, outside, Horacio paced in front of the officers, watching them sharply as they carried out the drill. 

“Colonel Carrillo!” A voice belonging to one of the guards at the front gate sounded off, “There’s someone at the front gate, Interpol agents. They’re asking for you.”

Horacio looked behind the front gate guard and saw another guard escorting Laz and another Interpol agent towards him.

The colonel looked to his officers and ordered, “Tomar un descanso.”

As he turned back towards his guests, tension filled his shoulders, uneasiness settling within him the closer he walked towards them. It didn’t help that he knew there were prying eyes probably trying to decipher what was going on.

“Colonel.” The unfamiliar man spoke. With a sharp eye from their superior, the front gate guards walked back towards their post. Carrillo looked back at the weathered agent and took the hand that he offered to shake. He could see that Laz was avoiding his gaze and so he chose not to address him. It’d been a week since he showed up at the house and stormed out shortly thereafter. Carrillo hadn’t heard from him since, but he figured whatever he came to discuss that day was why he was here now.

“I’m Michael Luna, I work over at Interpol with Laz, who you know,” he spoke smoothly with a lilt of knowing both in his voice and also the rise of his eyebrow, “We need to ask you a few things, it won’t take long.”

With a sigh, Horacio did a brief glance around and called out to a nearby soldier and instructed him to complete the drill.

He, then, led the way towards his office, sparing a brief glance at Laz as the duo followed him. On the way to their destination, he also caught brief looks of confusion from Trujillo and Peña as they stood talking near Peña’s desk. He noticed that Peña’s stare wasn’t directed at him actually, but towards Laz. If Horacio had looked back, he might’ve caught the subtle, silent bit of communication exchanged between them.

Letting them enter his office before them, he closed the door and took a seat behind his desk. Looking back at him, Laz’s face held barely bridled anger while Luna’s was more inquisitive. 

After a few seconds of silence, Horacio finally asked, “What did you need to talk to me about?”

Luna looked to Laz, almost expectantly, with the colonel’s eyes flickering impatiently between the two.

“Is this about a case? About any relevant intelligence?” His clipped tone hit the air.

Laz still said nothing, only heaving a deep breath with his bitter eyes still aimed at his ex brother-in-law.

“No, this isn’t about a case,” Luna finally spoke. His eyes had veered back to Horacio as he leaned back in his chair, “When was the last time you heard from your ex-wife?”

Horacio’s eyebrows immediately furrowed. His gaze shot right back to Laz and then to Luna, confused and troubled that neither were giving much of an explanation for their presence. 

“Why are you asking me about Kiara?” 

Luna merely shrugged. 

“Just answer the question, Carrillo,” The animosity in Laz’s voice wasn’t to be missed, especially because they were the first words he had asserted since stepping on the Carlos Hoguin grounds. 

“This is why you came to talk to me last week?” Horacio inquired, but Laz gave him nothing. Alarmed at the bringing up of her name, he persisted, “Is something wrong? Is she okay?” 

The hardened exterior Laz was used to had faltered and he could see genuine inklings of fear spark across Horacio’s face. Still though, Laz remained silent. 

“Dammit Lazaro, is Kiara the reason you came to see me?!” Carrillo’s voice rose with every word, as did he. He went from sitting straight in his seat to towering over the two men behind his desk. 

Laz blinked and gave a simple, “Yes.”

The one word reply only upset Carrillo further.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that? Why do you need to know whether I’ve heard from her?” Still angered, there was shakiness in his intonations, some of that underlying fear coming to the surface. 

And just because he was an asshole, Laz shrugged. He shrugged and it took everything for Carrillo not to reach across his desk and throttle him.

“Didn’t think you’d care, considering you were preoccupied.”

And because Luna was worried that Carrillo might actually come across the desk, he jumped in, “That’s enough.”

He looked at Carrillo and intoned calmly, “We need to know if you’ve heard from her, Colonel.” 

Last week’s conversation with Kiara whirled around in Horacio’s mind. Had something happened in the time since he spoke to her? Was something wrong when he spoke to her? The call was peculiar on its own, but he tried wracking his mind, looking for any irregularity that might signal that she was in danger. 

He could see the animosity in Laz’s eyes, still, and he knew that whatever answer he gave them, they’d walk away and leave without giving him any kind of explanation if it didn’t help with whatever they were trying to accomplish.

“Please just tell me why you need to know. Is she okay? Is she in danger?”

His voice had softened considerably, his guard slowly chipping away.

Laz stood up and looked him dead in the face, “That doesn’t concern you anymore.” Looking at Luna, he said, “He doesn’t know shit. Waste of fucking time…”

If he had been paying attention, he might’ve been able to dodge the vicious punch Horacio landed across his cheek. “Not my concern?!” He grabbed the collar of Laz’s shirt pulling him across the desk, “You know if it involves her, it will always concern me!”

It wasn’t Luna getting in between them that finally swooped Horacio out of his vehement turmoil, but the sound of knocking on his office door and Sandra appearing from behind it.

“Colonel?”

She hadn’t realized the tense situation she just walked into and stood posted at the door, taking in the three sets of eyes that were now on her.

Laz’s eyes were the first to shift off her, turning back towards Carrillo, “That right there, Carrillo,” he said with his finger pointing towards Sandra. “That right there is why she doesn’t concern you anymore.”

The older Nash sibling didn’t wait for a response, but merely turned his back to Carrillo.

“Nash-” 

“I don’t have time for this shit!” He threw back over his shoulder, heading for the door.

Horacio stalked after him, reaching his arm before he could get to the door. Laz whirled back in anger and snatched his arm out of the colonel’s grasp. He was met with mutual fury as his ex-brother-in-law stood eye to eye with him. There was a brief instant of silence before the door opened further and Peña appeared behind Sandra. His irked face indicated that their sparring had bounced off into the halls of the building.

Laz looked back and forth between Peña and Carrillo before shaking his head. 

“Fucking pathetic…” he muttered.

“You don’t get to decide whether I care enough about her or not. No matter what happened between she and I, I deserve to know whether something has happened to her.”

Laz’s nose flared, “I think you lost that right the moment you started bringing girls over to the house you bought with your wife.”

“For fuck’s sake, Nash, she’s under a protection detail!”

Continuing on as if hearing nothing Carrillo said, Laz threw back, “Peña was talking all that bullshit about how my sister leaving destroyed you and come to find out, you’re busy playing Secret Service with the secretary.”

Another savage punch landed on Laz’s cheek, but this time, he anticipated the hit enough to lunge at him right afterwards. 

Peña uttered an irritated “Jesus Christ” before pushing Carrillo all the way back until they reached his desk. Luna shook his head with an admonishing glare while shoving Laz towards the opposite direction.

When he asked “You good?” to the agent under his command, it wasn’t so much out of concern as it was a cautionary “Get your fucking act together.”

Laz nodded his head, bending it down in deference.

“Let’s go,” Luna commanded in his soft tone.

“You know how much I care about your sister, Laz.” He turned back towards Carrillo. “There’s not a thing in this world that will ever change the way I feel about her.” 

And what Laz was met with, was not the animosity he’d been greeted with for the past few months, but despair. Despair and loss.

This time, Laz had nothing to say back.

Horacio looked down in his anguish, not able to withstand the looks of pity etched in everyone’s faces as they saw him in a flash of vulnerability.

“Get out,” he said softly, to no one in particular but also to everyone.

Though closest to the door, Sandra was the last one out, hesitating until she felt a pull of her sleeve.

Peña could see in her expression that she wanted to check on Carrillo. He knew she meant well, but it was the last thing the man needed right now.

He sighed and uttered, "Don't. He needs to be alone right now."

And maybe that was the next best thing he needed right now. But what he really needed?  Kiara.

*****

EEEEKK. Can't believe it's been so long since I last updated this. Especially when they're always heavy on my mind. Also, I hope y'all don't mind that I add OCs to my fics. I'm just a sucker for building relationships and creating a little universe inside a narrative that's already so immersive. Each piece I write is its own little metaverse and I like putting more ppl in it whenever the inspo strikes. Marcus Alvarez was my inspo for Michael Luna in the sense that he's got that same calm, hardened exterior that commands respect. If you're ever interested in hearing me drone on about my OCs, however little they may appear, pls hit up my inbox and let me babble on and on lol

Interested to hear y'all thoughts on this chapter! Next chapter picks up right where we left off and of course, another flashback to their beginning!

Tag list: @drabbles-mc @supersanelyromantic @mysun-n-stars@ashlingnarcos

[all-the-things-2020]

Finding His Way - Chapter Five

Summary: A brief space battle and a cameo appearance by a young Poe Dameron. Mariana makes a decision but Din changes her mind.

Rating: PG

The ship shuddered, tilting sharply to the left. Mariana had to grab hold of the closest object, which fortunately was a part of the bulkhead, to keep from falling over. A few days ago, the kid had slipped up to the cockpit when both she and Din had been distracted and tried to steer the ship. Mariana had grabbed at a seemingly stable shelving unit and ended up with several bruises, which were still quite tender.

It wasn’t the kid this time, though. He was in plain view, staging a fight between Froggy and Ball. Din flew up the ladder to the cockpit, muttering what she assumed were Mando’a swear words. Ever since the kid had started calling him “Da” when he had his helmet off, he’d been trying to teach him a few Mando’a words, and she noticed he’d slip out of Basic now and then.

Grabbing the kid, she scrambled up the ladder behind him. Several alarms were blaring by now and a galaxy of lights was flashing on the control panels. Din was already in the pilot’s seat, hands working the controls. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Sit down and buckle up,” he said curtly. “We’re under attack.”

She slid into the copilot’s chair and fastened the restraints, then wrapped her arms tightly around the kid. A pair of smaller ships were spiraling around the Razor Crest. “Are those TIE fighters?”

“Yeah,” he said, slamming a lever back and steering the ship with one hand while readying the weapons with the other. Mariana grabbed onto the armrest and curled around the kid as they lurched again. This time, though, it wasn’t from impact. Din was taking evasive maneuvers and the motion was smoother, if still sharp.

The Razor Crest swooped and dove, the laser cannons blazing. Din’s hands danced over the controls, but the rest of him was almost unnaturally still. They took a hit from one of the TIE fighters, which sent them spinning sideways. Mariana clutched at the kid as they nearly fell out of their seat despite the restraints.

“Shit,” said Din. He started frantically pressing buttons and flipping switches. The kid whined and clutched at Mariana’s shirt.

The ship shuddered as another blast connected. Then Din pushed her into a nose dive, rotated 180 degrees and fired. One of the TIE fighters disintegrated as the Razor Crest’s cannons found their mark. The other TIE wheeled around, closing in for the kill, but Din shoved the Crest into reverse, dipped down and looped in a crazy spiral. The TIE’s lasers missed and before it could catch up and aim again, Din blasted one of its wings off. The fighter spun out of control, giving a Din time to line up another shot. This one hit the cockpit, which exploded. The Razor Crest drifted to a halt, shields rattling as bits of debris from the TIEs struck like a meteor shower.

“Hold on,” Din said. “I have no idea if there are more of them around here. I’m going to jump to lightspeed just to get some distance between us before I check the ship. Things might get rough depending on how much damage we took.”

He punched several buttons, flipped a switch and then slammed the lightspeed lever back. The Crest lurched forward, pressing them back into their seats with inertia. The ship bucked and shimmied a bit, but the lightspeed engines held up, and Din sat back.

The kid was cowering against Mariana’s chest, but now that streaks of starlight were filling the forward windows, he pricked up his ears and started cooing. Din took a moment to check that they were okay, then turned his attention back to the control panel.

“We’ll stay in lightspeed a bit longer, then drop out and see if we can find an out of the way planet to get some repairs,” he said. “Doesn’t look too bad, but the starboard engine needs some help and we may have some minor hull damage that needs to be repaired before it gets any worse.”

“Why would TIE fighters attack us?” Mariana asked. “I thought the Republic had destroyed most of the Imperial outposts.”

Din was quiet for longer than she liked. He hadn’t told her much about his past, just that he’d been a bounty hunter, and given her a brief rundown of how he’d come to acquire the Child, and been charged by the leader of his covert to take him as a Foundling. Clearly, there was more to the story.

He abruptly swiveled his chair toward her and began to talk. He told her about Moff Gideon and his Death Troopers, about the desperate fight to escape, his near brush with death, IG-11’s sacrifice, and his battle with Gideon’s TIE fighter. His words were clipped, emotionless, and matter of fact, but Mariana could sense the emotion he was holding back behind them.

“Karga messaged me a few weeks later,” he continued. “Some Jawas came in with TIE parts and a story about being interrupted in their scavenging by a man in black emerging from the wreckage. Apparently, Gideon survived. Cara tried to track him down, but the Jawas took their time coming into town and the trail was cold.”

“So, these TIE fighters could have been Troopers loyal to this Moff Gideon? He’s still looking for ad’ika?” She clutched the kid to her.

Din nodded. “Which is why I want to lay low. I’m sorry you got dragged into this, but …”

The Crest shuddered violently and dropped out of hyperspace with a jolt. Din spun back to the control panel. “Hyperdrive is out,” he sighed. “But we got some distance from the TIEs, at least.” He pulled up a star chart. “Hmmm … Yavin 4 is the closest place with a decent spaceport. I usually avoid Republic strongholds, but it used to be a Rebel base, so not much chance of Imperial sympathizers. Should be safe enough.” He locked in the coordinates and turned back to her. “About 12 hours without lightspeed, but I think the Crest will hold up.”

*******************

Din had been to Yavin 4 once or twice before, but as he’d told Mariana, it was tricky to conduct Guild business on planets with such a strong New Republic presence. It was a beautiful place, though; lush and tropical with ancient stone temples peeking through the vegetation.

They landed the Razor Crest at the largest spaceport, which had once been a Rebel base. Lots of pilots and mechanics, which meant it shouldn’t be hard to find someone to repair the ship quickly. His finances would take a sizable hit, but hopefully once the ship was back in shape, he could pick up a couple of small jobs. Nothing too dangerous, not with Mariana and the kid aboard, but he was sure he could find something.

After locating a mechanic and dickering over the price (why did they always want to charge extra to not use droids?), Din went back into the ship to fetch Mariana and the kid. It would take most of a day for the repairs, so they might as well enjoy the sights.

“Bring your blaster,” he told Mariana as she pulled on her jacket.

“Are you sure? I’m still a terrible shot. And I thought Yavin 4 was safe.”

“It is, but bring it anyway.” Din knew that even though the Republic had a strong presence on Yavin, there was always the possibility of Imperial spies.

They left the ship and crossed the landing field on their way toward the town. It was a busy place and several small ships landed as they walked. An A-wing touched down a few hundred feet away. The hatch had barely popped when a small, dark-haired blur tumbled down the ladder and darted right in front of them.

“Poe Dameron, get back here!” The boy skidded to a halt, almost colliding with Din.

“But, Mom! Look at that cool X-wing over there! I’m gonna fly one like that some day.”

A woman in a flight suit hurried up. “I see it, kiddo, but you almost ran into these people.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and ducked her head at Din and Mariana. “I apologize for my son. He’s obsessed with flight. I have no idea why …” She shook her head with a laugh and held out her hand. “Shara Bey. And you’ve met Poe.”

The boy looked up at Din, having managed to tear his eyes away from the X-wing, “Are you a Mandalorian? Your armor is so cool! What kind of rifle is that?”

Din was taken aback by the boy’s forwardness. He looked to be only about 7 or 8 years old, but he had no qualms about talking to a heavily armed stranger, something Din would never have done at that age.

Fortunately, Mariana came to his rescue. “Nice to meet you, Shara,” she said, shaking the woman’s hand. “I’m Mariana, and this is Din and Ad’ika.” She turned to the boy. “And yes, Poe, Din is a Mandalorian. Which means he’s not much on small talk.”

Shara laughed. “Sounds like my husband. And speaking of which, we’d better get home, Poe. You know how your dad worries when I take you up.”

“But, Mom! Home is boring. I want to look at all the ships.” His dark eyes kept dancing over the port, taking in the array of spacecraft.

“You can look at the ships another day,” Shara said. “The spaceport isn’t going anywhere.” The boy looked up at her with pleading eyes, and she sighed. “Okay, fifteen minutes. And don’t bother anyone!” Poe was already halfway to the X-wing by the time the last word was out of her mouth. She shook her head. “That boy’s going to be the death of me. I don’t know how I’m going to handle him when he gets old enough to fly on his own.”

Mariana chuckled. “He seems like a good kid, just full of energy. My cousin Timmin was like that around that age. Couldn’t sit still to save his life, but he calmed down when he got a little older.”

Din stood awkwardly as the two women chatted for a few more minutes. Shara admired the kid, and he showed her his Froggy. It was all very friendly and natural, as if they were two old friends catching up. Finally, Shara excused herself to go extricate her son from the landing gear of the X-wing, which he’d climbed up to get a closer look at what a droid mechanic was doing.

Mariana urged the kid to wave goodbye, then turned back to Din.

“How do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Just … talk to people. Chat. You’ve never met that woman before. How do you know what to say?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, you just … do it. Maybe I get it from my dad. He could talk to anyone; Mom always said he’d never met a stranger.”

Din started walking again, not sure what to say. He couldn’t really remember much about his own parents. The Mandalorians who raised him had been more concerned with teaching him how to fight than how to talk to people. Maybe Mariana could teach him about small talk; he certainly couldn’t be any worse at it than she was at shooting.

**************

It had been a lovely day, but Mariana still felt on edge. The blaster tucked away in its holster beneath her jacket reminded her that Din and the kid were targets, and so was she as long as she was with them. The encounter with the TIE fighters had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. It was one thing to be attacked by thieves in a marketplace, and quite another to be hunted by Imperial Troopers. Every time she caught a glimpse of white out of the corner of her eye, her hand drifted toward her blaster. She couldn’t shake the memory of Storm Troopers devastating her hometown. She’d been through a lot in the last dozen years, but the thing that always made her blood run cold was the thought of the Empire. Even though the Rebellion had defeated the Emperor, the shadow of the Empire still stretched across much of the galaxy.

Din was carrying the kid as they headed back toward the ship. The mechanic had commed to say the repairs were finished, and he was eager to get back aboard. Mariana trailed slightly behind, caught up in her thoughts. She’d been happy enough so far, but how long would it last? The kid was adorable, and she enjoyed taking care of him. Din was still a bit of an enigma to her. One moment he was every inch the dispassionate soldier, the next he was sitting on the floor playing ball with his ad’ika. She wasn’t sure if he thought of her as a friend or just a crewmate. Sometimes she almost thought he was flirting with her, but it was hard to tell with his face hidden by the helmet and the slight distortion of the vo-coder.

He’d told her she could leave any time she wanted, and maybe it was time, before she got even more attached to the kid. She was free now, and Yavin 4 seemed like a good place. She could probably find a job easily enough, and once she wasn’t associated with Din anymore, there would be no reason to fear the remnants of the Empire.

They reached the Razor Crest. Din set the kid down so he could toddle up the ramp. Her heart clenched as she watched Din slow down to match his son’s pace. Stars, she would miss them.

When they reached the top of the ramp, the kid disappeared inside, but Din turned to look at her where she still stood at the foot of the ramp. “What are you waiting for?” he asked.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I … I think I’m going to stay,” she managed to say.

Din was at the bottom of the ramp in a moment. “What do you mean?”

“I think it’s time. You said I could leave any time I wanted. And just think, without me around, you can have your helmet off anytime you want. You and the kid can be a family all the time, not just when I’m hiding in my bunk…”

Din grabbed her hand. “No. No, you can’t leave. I need you …” He stopped, squeezed her hand tightly, took a deep breath and started again. “We still need you. I can’t leave him alone, and I’ll never find his people without your help. Please … don’t go.”

Mariana was stunned. She’d never expected him to beg her to stay. There was a raw edge to his voice, and he clutched at her hand like a drowning man hoping to be saved. Was it possible he really had been flirting with her? Did he have feelings for her? And more importantly … did she have feelings for him?

“You’re right,” she said. “You hired me to do a job and it’s not finished. I … I just got scared.” She squeezed his hand back, feeling the leather of his glove creak against her skin.

“The Imps,” he said, releasing her hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you … or the kid. We’ll find some place to lay low for a bit. Gideon won’t find us.”

She nodded and followed him up the ramp. She wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t naive. Moff Gideon had walked away from a crashed ship. He was Imperial. He would not give up so easily. Still, Mariana would rather be on the run with Din and Ad’ika than safe and alone.

[abigailshorel5]

WWF Campaigns

https://www.trendhunter.com/slideshow/wwf-campaigns

WWF have created some effective campaigns raising awareness to climate change. I have found that they are so successful because they use powerful imagery and very limited type. 

Stop Climate Change Before it Changes You

2008 WWF campaign to bring awareness to climate change by mutating into a fish, it is saying that reverse evolution may occur in response to ice melting at an alarming rate

Disintegrating Animals 

2011 campaign to bring awareness to the negative impacts animals are going through due to climate change, in particular species going extinct. ‘Desertification destroys 6000 species every year’, the visuals in the campaign show the animals turning into dust reminiscent of a desert. 

Forest as Lungs

This campaign was to create awareness for deforestation. It is a powerful image that shows the damage that is being done and the importance trees have to our oxygen.

Horrifying Campaign

It is showing that a world with a shark/snake is scary but a world without them would be scarier. 

#lastselfie

Don’t destroy their life for your pleasure

[lustful-literature-anime]

The Scent of Blinding Desire

aphrodisiacs in smut is a guilty pleasure of mine :3

cw: afab reader, obviously aphrodisiacs, just a smidge of dub-con??? (does having sex while you are under the influence of aphrodisiacs count as dub-con?), oral (f receiving), squirting, vaginal sex (unprotected), confession through sex, fluff at the end, mentions of the Entertainment District

"You're quite the impressive slayer, y/n!" Rengoku suddenly shouted as the two of you were walking to the rumored hideout of this demon. Apparently, a demon who uses pheromones targets couples who travel from the nearby Entertainment District into the forest to try out some risque outdoor play.

"O-oh, thank you," you blushed at the compliment. You were grateful for the skills in Water Breathing and being an extremely competent Demon Slayer as a whole that granted you the pleasure of going on a mission with the Hashira you've loved for a while now. "You're also very impressive, Rengoku-san. I hope I can learn a lot from you on this mission."

"I feel the same towards you, y/n-san." Rengoku's warm smile and fiery eyes made your face heat up. You were about to respond when you heard a faint scuffling noise. That is when a very faint sweet smell was detected.

"We're close," Rengoku quickly shifted to serious mode as the two of you rushed to the source.

"Ah, so the demon slayers have finally arrived? And a Hashira no less..."

A figure made its presence own by jumping from the trees and landing a few feet from the two of you. The demon was not what you two had expected: a tall, buff man with swirling tattoos all over, 4 scarlet eyes, long raven black hair and 4 small horns protruding from his forehead. As for clothes, he only had baggy black pants.

"I didn't expect the demon here to be a man," Rengoku drew his sword and got into position to strike at any moment. This prompted you to do the same.

"You better believe it, baby," the demon clicked his tongue as he smirked. "You know, you'd think with all my prey being couples that they wouldn't send a Hashira and his partner! The Demon Slayer Corps are a joke!"

...Couples.

A Hashira and his partner...

His partner?!

You let out sputtering sounds as your form faltered. "W-we aren't a couple!"

"Oh, please, I can smell the tension between the two of you...perhaps I can help break it!"

At once, the demon lunged at the both of you with a strange pink mist coming out of his mouth. Before you could warn Rengoku, it spat a substance on your chest. The sickly sweet smell hit you instantly. Nonetheless, you took a deep breath and readied your sword.

"Water Breathing First Form: Water Surface Slash!"

The demon swerved its head out of the way of your attack, but its left arm was severed in return.

"Rengoku-san! Finish him off!" You shouted. Before Rengoku decapitated it, the demon quickly turned around and spat the same substance at Rengoku.

As the demon began to disintegrate, Rengoku jogged over to you. "Are you alright, y/n-san?"

"Yes, but this substance..." you hesitantly poked at the goo only for it to immediately turn into swirly pink mist and vanish. "It's strange..."

Suddenly, you felt your body heat up at an alarming rate. You grasped at your shoulders as you knelt down on the ground.

"Y/n-san, what's wrong?!" Rengoku knelt down with you out of concern, but as soon as he put a hand on yours, the ache within you came to your attention. That's when you realized: the demon's parting gift was pheromones that made you very horny.

"R-Rengoku-san, the demon's power...it was pheromones..."you panted heavily as you spoke. "I need you...to take me somewhere...so I don't bother you..."

"Bother me?"

"I...I need a secluded room somewhere...anywhere! I need your h-help, ple-ah~!"

Rengoku's hand tightening his grip on top of yours made you involuntarily moan. Blushing, you look up at him, only to find an uncharacteristic faraway glare in his eyes.

"That disgusting demon almost laid his filthy hands on you..."

"Huh? I-I'm okay now, tho-"

You were interrupted by Rengoku wrapping his arms around you, upping the ache in your core to 100.

"R-Rengoku??"

"It's starting to affect me, too."

"Shit...ok maybe we could... we could get rooms somewh-"

"Like hell we're going to be separated, y/n...not when I'm this close to you."

"W-What's that supposed to mean??" you sank into his arms as confusion began to set in.

"You're an amazing person, y/n. I want to get you know you. I want you."

"What?! Are you okay, Rengoku?" ignoring the ache in your core, you turned to face him.

"I can't wait any longer, y/n. I'm sorry."

Before you could protest, your back was suddenly met with the forest ground and your bare legs with the cool night air as Rengoku pinned you to the ground and stripped you of your pants.

"W-wait a second!" you were torn; you really wanted this to happen, but was Rengoku in the right mind? "You don't have to do thi- ah~!"

A moan cut your words off as Rengoku immediately latched his mouth to your clit. Like a man starved, he ate you out as you writhed in pleasure. His hot tongue and occasional groans sent shivers of pleasure throughout your body. That's when you felt a strange yet familiar sensation.

"R-Rengoku! I'm gonna-!"

"Cum all over my face, sweetheart," Rengoku took a couple of seconds to speak to you before immediately returning to abusing your clit. You couldn't take the stimulation anymore; an intense orgasm washed over you as your body trembled in pleasure. Rengoku licked up all of your juices, pushing you to the edge of overstimulation. Giving slight mercy, he finally took his mouth off of your clit and immediately crawled over you to kiss you. Your mind was all mush as you lazily swirled your tongue with Rengoku's, the taste of your essence obvious. As he slowly pulled away, you could see a lewd string of saliva connecting your tongues.

"I'm sorry..." Rengoku panted out. "I...I can't control myself. You just tasted so fuckin' good."

"Don't apologize."

Throwing your dignity to the wind, you caressed his cheeks and stared at him lovingly.

"Please fuck me, Kyojuro. I need you."

Something seemed to snap in Rengoku's mind as he aligned the tip of his dick with your entrance at lighting speed. In one quick thrust, his entire cock was inside, forcing all the air out of your lungs. You both groaned as the sensations felt fucking amazing. Rengoku harshly grabbed your inner thighs and moved forward, resulting in your knees almost meeting your chest.

"Gods, you're so fucking tight, y/n," the cursing combined with the deep groaning made your heart flutter.

"Please move, Kyojuro," you whined. "I wanna cum around your cock so bad~"

You suddenly erupted into moans as Rengoku started to thrust his cock in and out. It hit all of the right places; it was as if your pussy and his cock were made for each other.

"I'm gonna c-cum, Kyojuro!" you whined loudly. "F-feels so good~!"

Rengoku's hips began to stutter as he began to talk. "y/n, I-I love you!"

"What? Y-you love me?"

"You're incredible, how could I not fall for you?"

You wanted to respond, but upon feeling Rengoku's cock slightly twitch as he came, you came with a loud wail. Your legs were let down and reclothed as Rengoku stared down at you. You two basked in the silence of the forest.

"The aphrodisiac wore off..." you let out a trembling sigh as you talked. "How do you feel, Rengoku-san?"

"I feel much better! Thank you for asking."

"And um... do you remember what happened?"

"We had sex!"

The bluntness of this man was very cute.

"I'll...understand if you want to pretend that this never hap-" you felt a pit form at the bottom of your stomach as you spoke.

"I will not do that!"

"...Huh?"

Rengoku helped you sit up. He then took off his haori and covered your body with it.

"I am no liar, y/n. I meant every word I said."

Huh...?!

Taking advantage of your shocked state, he gave you a kiss on your forehead.

"I'll be sure to take responsibility if you become pregnant! I also owe you a proper date."

Ignoring the pregnant comment for a second, you asked with shaky breaths, "A date?"

"I want to do this the right way. I want to court you the right way," Rengoku took both of your hands into his own as he stared lovingly at you.

"I would be honored to go on a date with you, Kyojuro Rengoku."

The smile that Rengoku gave you made him shine like the noon sun.

"Now, can we please get to a village? I don't want to be on the forest floor for much longer." It was very uncomfortable laying on dirt, albeit twig and rock free dirt.

"Of course, my love. Let's go!"

You hoped the place you’ll stay for the rest of the night has a bath.