#these are the difficult decisions i have to make

[astrow1zar6]

Slay Astro placements pt 3

Venus/Uranus positively aspected (trine, CONJUNCTION, sextile): this is by far the most magnetic aspects you can have (especially in conjunction) your vibe is very electrifying. People are super drawn to you & you have the ability to attract friends and admirers from every walk of life. These people can really get along with everyone & are usually super fun to be around. It’s never a dull moment around these individuals. You have a very unique/shocking personality & style. This can be a big fashionista placement and are really creative when it comes to putting certain clothing together. (They could have a really cool Pinterest aesthetic as well). They can be seen as very quirky but they usually pull it off in a very cool way which makes people want to copy them! Big social butterflies & always have exciting stories they share because they are always going on crazy adventures. However they can have a difficult time with long term commitments and romance because of their need for freedom. A lot of big influencers have this placement.

Fire grand trine: if you have this configuration in your chart you have big star quality! A grand trine in any element is considered super lucky & rare but I notice in the fire element they tend to be a lot less lazy & it’s easier for them to go for what they want without procrastination ( grand trines have a tendency to make the native lazy with their talents). You have a larger than life personality & have the ability to attract people and opportunities to you as easy as pie. They posses a lot of energy & ambition which makes getting what they want very easy. Big manifestor energy! Anything they put their mind to they can achieve. A lot of celebrities and models (ex; Cara Delevine) have this they usually have an easier time in life and have an easier time finding joy in life than most. They need to watch out tho for being to impulsive & making rash decisions when they become too excited. It’s good to learn grounding tips so they don’t go astray from their goals.

Venus in Leo: this is honestly one of my favorite Venus placements. These people are sooo put together. They can wear a plastic bag and still look like a baddie. Usually big into luxury and you’ll see them wear a lot of designer, name brand shoes, pretty jewelry, expensive perfumes. They usually smell AMAZING omg (especially with VIRGO or Libra in their chart 😩). They tend to be very ambitious as well! Because of their love for luxury & the good things in life they are normally very money driven & I’ve met a lot who get straight As. They are very self assured & know their worth from a very young age. It’s princess treatment or nothing with them. They usually attract partners that show them off & worship the ground they walk on (bc honestly the accept nothing less). They can have a worship kink. They also treat their partners really well too with a lot of attention and grand gestures, dates & gifts. A lot of people envy them and their relationships. Just know you getting taken care of if these natives love you! Very popular placement as well.

Jupiter in the 12th: these natives are so divinely protected & can be super lucky especially when they are practicing any type of spirituality. They have a lot of angels around them! (My mom had this placement and she had a lot of psychic randomly walk up to her in stores and tell her that there were angels around her😳 super cool). These people experience a lot of supernatural shit in their life & can be lowkey psychic (especially in their dreams). They are able to escape from a lot of terrible situations unharmed. This also creates someone that has a very beautiful selfless soul🥺 they are sooo pure at heart. They are usually into things like volunteering, helping the poor/cooking for them, volunteering in foreign third world countries ect. When they aren’t practicing anything spiritual or are giving to others however they can become very lost in life so it’s important for them to give themselves to others selflessly to increase their good luck. Don’t do these people wrong in any way! They are so protected that karma will fuck your life up forreal. Has a very unforgettable vibe especially romantically.

Uranus conjunct mercury: this placement gives Einstein vibes. So many people who are geniuses or savants have this placement in their chart. This gives a very out of the box creative type of thinking to the native. They have the ability to see patterns others usually miss. Their brain works like the speed of light and they can pick up on concepts and academics faster than most. Their brains work in lightening speed! A lot of famous scientists and philosophers have this aspect in their chart. Being super smart however can have its downfalls. These people usually suffer from overthinking because of the amount of information they are able to absorb & suffer from head aches a lot. This can also cause anxiety because you could be ahead of your time cognitively making it really difficult for others your age to understand your thought process. These people have a great out if the box sense of humor as well! Their intelligence makes them able to think of some of the most creative funniest lines.

Sun in positive aspect with the moon (trine, conjunct, sextile) : these individuals are very in tuned with themselves & are usually very comfortable expressing & understanding their emotions more than most. A lot of people are down to them because of how secure they are with themselves & are able to deal with difficult feelings with ease. They have the ability to make others feel comfortable being themselves around them because of their accepting and open natures. They are normally more comfortable being/showing vulnerability than most & their masculine & feminine energies are usually very balanced within them. They are super affectionate and have hearts of gold for the ones they love. They usually know what they want and who they are from a very young age which can make it easy for them to go for what they want since their is little confliction internally. They are guided by their hearts and don’t let others projections get in the way of what they truly desire & want which I think is so special. They can however be over emotional at times and people can take advantage of them a lot because of how giving their natures are:( overall though very good people usually.

Jupiter in cancer/4th house: these people are probably your favorite family member. They are that cousin & aunty that if there aren’t at the family reunion then it’s super dull. They know how to bring people together by their loving charismatic natures. They will do anything for their family and usually grow up being really supported by family members as well. Most I notice came from wealthier families. And if they weren’t wealthy they were all very close to the native and helped them a lot when it comes to achieving goals. Usually they are the breadwinners of the family. They could’ve grown up in a very culturally diverse household where they learned a lot about different ways of living or was able to travel a lot to places most people don’t get to see. Could’ve grown up with big family reunions and a lot of fun feasts and holidays/traditions. Because of the great support in their upbringings they have are usually very wise and emotionally mature even from a young age. Their emotional world is very colorful and can put themselves in others shoes with ease (very big spiritual teacher aspect). Billie Eilish has this aspect and she always says how growing up her family was her rock and she brings them to all her tours. Could be especially close to the mother or grandmother (4th house ruling mother/grandma). When they have a family of their own it’s most likely going to be big and they normally have a very beautiful big house/home. They are normally amazing parents when they decide to have a child of their own.

Taurus or Libra in the 5th house: another big pretty privilege placement. These people are usually very appealing to the eye and tend to enjoy very Venusian hobbies such as art, fashion, beauty, cooking ect. They tend to be very pleasant partners and attract very pretty spouses as well! This can also indicate having very beautiful children when they ever decide to have them. A lot of people in the modeling industry have a Venusian 5th house. Libra tends to be a very flirtatious placement when in the 5th house and are usually able to find their soulmates/ marry at a very early age. Taurus in the 5th may take a little longer to find their soulmates (usually they find them when financially stable) but once they do they are in it for the long haul and their partners are usually quite wealthy or are very good at investing. Taurus in the 5th tend to have a natural charm about them which makes the irresistible to the opposite sex. (Or same sex depending on what you are into). Both can attract a lot of money and admirers in their lifetime.

Juno in the 1st house or 7th: hubby/wifey material. If these people love you trust me you have a rider for life. These people are super loyal and naturally know what it takes to keep a stable long lasting healthy partnership. They are amazing at compromising & will stay with you thru thick or thin. Could’ve dreamed of marriage from a very young age (especially in the 7th). They usually attract partners that see eye to eye with them & have similar ways of thinking which can cause little issues in their marriages. They have the ability to attract others like them! However these people can struggle with having an identity outside of their partnerships and can become very codependent when in love so it’s important to separate yourself from your lover from time to time to not become too overbearing. Overall though very lucky in love & tend to marry early.

Venus/mercury: smooth talker alert. These people can charm the pants off anyone! It’s actually more rare to have this aspect considering it can only be in either conjunction or sextile. Just by the way you speak and engage can make other fall head over heels for you, you know just what to say & your timing with words are impeccable. I notice these people can have very pretty/sexy talking voices (would be very successful in a podcast because people just live hearing you talk) and they can also be very good singers as well. Usually have perfect pitch naturally. Tend to have very beautiful minds. Their words can be very inspiring as well if they ever choose a public speaking career & they have the ability to connect with so many people just by their words. Can use their hands a lot when they speak which makes you even more engaging

North node in Leo: your whole mission in this lifetime is to SHINEEE. This is such a cool north node to have. In another life you could’ve tried very hard to fit into others and hide the quirks that make you special. You could’ve been very involved in humanity and being involved in a community/friendgroup (south node Aquarius) you could’ve been very detached and independent. In this life however you are meant to stray away from groups and lead! This north node is all about fun & self expression. Deep down you have amazing charisma and charm the you may of had to water down to please others but in this lifetime you are here to stand out not fit in. You are meant to be a STAR. Don’t shy away from the stage or give it to someone else it’s all about YOU not other anymore. You are here to experience romance and learn how to connect deeper with your vulnerability. You’re going from mind to heart in this life. This is a big main character placement imo. Big artists like Beyoncé have this north node. This placement is about finding what makes YOU happy and feel good which I find so beautiful🥹.

Leo sun: you radiate warmth everywhere you go. Like the sun you are able to attract others to you and almost give life to the fullness of life. Your large than life personality and positive outlook draws so many opportunities to you. The world is your stage and YOU are the main character. You are super confident in yourself from a very young age and adore the attention you get from others (they get A LOT of attention). You are a natural entertainer and enjoy making others laugh/ inspiring people. Usually into artistic hobbies such as music, art, comedy, dance, poetry ect. The sun rules Leo so this is one of the most fruitful/comfortable placements for the sun to be in. You have this natural love for yourself that teaches others to love themselves as well♥️ if you aren’t careful you can become a little too attention hungry and only think of yourself which can cause you to receive more negative attention than positive. So make sure you give others a chance to shine as well.

Virgo mercury: these people are so well spoken & are super smart. They have such logical minds and have a very vast vocabulary from what I’ve observed. They are extremely clear in their communication as well which is something I admire (cries in Pisces mercury 🥲). They are usually at the top of their class & have little issues in acedemics. They are huge perfectionists and have an eye for detail. They will not hand in their work until it’s PERFECT. I notice a lot of people with this aspect are love reading as well! A lot of people with this placement are amazing writers and a lot of top novelists have their mercury in Virgo. These are the types to read the dictionary to expand their wordplay. However these people can struggle with a lot of anxiety because of how much they think & how hard they try to make everything “perfect”. They can have problems with never feeling satisfied with their work even if their work is incredible. Don’t be so hard on yourselves:(

Castle configuration: this configuration is pretty rare in the chart. This is where you have a grand trine accompanied by two sextiles on the side creating a castle pattern in the chart. This pattern gives great strength and fortitude. Those who have this pattern are natural born leaders and have the potential to achieve great things in life by their drive alone. This pattern is found in a lot of CEOS, businessmen & great politicians. This gives you the ability to succeed in any field you put your mind to. This gives an amazing level of confidence and ambition. & because of their charisma they are able to attract a lot of relationships with powerful individuals that can help them get to where they need to go in life. Their relationships with others too are usually strong and long lasting. The only issue with this is that these natives can be very rash and impulsive when it comes to decisions but they always prevail even thru their mistakes. This is super lucky and rarely shows up in charts. (North west Kardashian actually has this in her chart).

POF in the 11th house: these people naturally attracted like minded individuals/ friends that help them to become successful in life. The Friedan these people make in this lifetime will be powerful and very influential. The 11th house is also the house of hopes and wishes so it’s no wonder these people are natural manifestors! Anything they wish for and desire are more likely to manifest in the physical compared to others. They can be amazing at networking and can gain a mass following by just being themselves. This is a big entrepreneur placement. They have the ability to create meaningful bonds with others and can have friendships that last a lifetime. They can become very well known toward the end of their life or when they reach a mature age.

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: their reaction to the fact that you want a child🤍

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Se Mi x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f)

A/N: Orders are always open for you!

🤍🤍🤍

The beginning of each headcanon will be the same.

You were sitting in the living room reading book about motherhood, when your boyfriend/girlfriend came into the room and noticed you.

Cho Hyun Ju

- Baby, what are you reading? Your face is so focused that I feel uncomfortable. - your girlfriend said jokingly, sitting down next to you.

- Yes, nothing important. - you quickly hid the book under the pillow, but Hyun Ju could not be deceived, she immediately realized that something was wrong here.

- So..- and cleverly took out of the pillow the reason for your sadness, when she read the title of the book, she thought for a while, and then looked straight into your eyes.

- You..do you want to be a mother? - not knowing how to answer correctly, you just nodded silently, you knew that your dream was not destined to come true.

- But why didn't you tell me before?

- And what's the point... if nothing works out anyway. - It even seemed to you that your words offended the girl.

- Why did you decide that it wouldn't work, baby? I also want a child very much. And if the reason is that I will soon make a complete transition to a girl..then it's stupid. We can adopt a child or..or find a good sperm donor for us, and in general! I didn't do all the operations, we can try, my love. You don't have to be silent about that.. - she spoke with such tenderness in her voice that you almost cried.

- I'm sorry, I just thought you were against the children. - for these words you got a light smack, after which the girl took you by the hand and dragged you to the bedroom.

- What are you doing?!

- Let's go try to make your dream come true, after all, I've been ready for children for a long time.

Kang Dae Ho

You've wanted to talk to your boyfriend about this topic for a long time, but you've been waiting for the right moment and now it has come. He just got back from work and went into the living room, where he saw you very serious, he immediately tensed up.

- Honey, did I do something wrong? - he asked cautiously, to which you only pointed your finger at the place next to you, he silently fulfilled your request.

- I've wanted to talk to you for a long time. In general, we have been together for a long time and are planning our wedding.. I want a child. - after which you handed him the very book that he began to look at uncertainly, he looked at you, then at it.

- Oh, honey, are you sure about that? A child is a huge responsibility.

- Yes, I'm completely confident in my decision.

- Yes, I see that you are very serious. - he smiled softly, patted you on the head. - I also want a child, especially a daughter who will look like you. But since I want our child to be healthy, we have to go through some doctors, take tests and so on, and then..we can start..well, you get it..- he said slightly teasing you.

Still, you are very happy that you have such a good future husband, I am sure he will be a good father for your future children.

Se Mi

- Honey, I'm at home. - said your girlfriend, returning from the store, but she was met by silence in response, you were too immersed in reading.

She went to the living room, where she saw you reading a book, the girl had good eyesight, so she immediately saw what the book was about and was surprised.

- Do you read book about motherhood? - you almost jumped in fright when you noticed Se Mi, you wanted to hide the book, but realized that there was no point.

- Yes, I read.

- You don't just read them out of curiosity. Do you want to be a mother? - she sat down next to you, taking your hands in hers.

- Yes, there is such a desire.

- Oh, sweetie, you understand that in our situation it will be difficult, and in general.. I would like to live for myself first, just you and me. And after..in five years, can we come back to this topic again? Okay? Just don't think that I'm judging you or against you!

- I understand everything, really. And I think you're right, we need to get back on our feet first. - she smiled softly at you and kissed you on the lips.

Thanos (Su Bong)

Thanos suddenly flew into the living room that you were even a little scared, and he laughed a little at you.

- Don't be scared, lord. In short, listen! Soon Nam Gyu will come, I warn you right away so that there would be no misunderstandings later. - you listened to him carefully, of course you are not very happy with the situation, because these two make a lot of noise, which is just horrible.

- What are you reading by the way? - he came closer to you and took the book from his hands, saw the title, was horrified and gave it back to you. - You throw this dope out of your head. I'm not ready for children at all, what to take from them? They just scream, ask for food and shit! No, no, no, I don't want to. If you want, I'll buy you any animal, but not a child in the house. - you already wanted to say something, when he interrupted you again. - so, I went to cook snacks, Nam Gyu will come soon. By the way, join us, it will be fun. - he sent you an air kiss and ran to the kitchen, leaving you to digest everything he said.

All you realized is that with a person like him there will never be a child. After all, he himself is like a child who needs constant control, and since he also has a friend who is a fool like him... you have just two children who are in the body of adult guys.

🤍🤍🤍

[signanothername]

I'm having a really hard time with my health right now. Do you have any fluffy blurbs or headcannons with your skeletons taking care of each other in their own way when they are sick or hurting? Could be any of them, I love them all.

I’m sorry to hear that, hope you feel better soon <333

And absolutely!

Killer:

When Killer has one of his sudden collapse episodes, Color immediately starts looking for the underlying cause to be able to help Killer any way he can

Of course, identifying the cause with Killer is usually extremely hard especially when Killer himself doesn’t understand it and especially when he’s at stage 2 because of how out of tune he is with his body

So Color usually asks him simple questions like if he ate something nutritional today or if he’s in more pain than usual, or if he’d been overthinking something or if he’d been overworking himself the last few days

Sometimes, Color succeeds in identifying a cause, other times there just seems to be no reason for Killer’s sudden collapse, so all Color could do is make sure Killer is as comfortable as possible, he usually wraps killer up in blankets, give him something warm to drink (usually golden flower tea) and try to help Killer sleep it off if he can, or watch something with him, and of course having Killer’s kitties surround him <333

———

Dream:

Dream is usually prone to become sick easily because of how much he overworks himself, the constant stress about Nightmare and the balance, and he’s already in so much chronic pain and fatigue as it is, and he doesn’t take care of himself as much as he should

So sometimes, the pain and fatigue takes over and it becomes extremely difficult for Dream to do anything at all, sometimes experiencing episodes of sickness where he’s barely able to move because of how heavy his body feels and constant migraines that make it extremely hard to focus or even attempt to stand up

Whenever that happens, Dream finds shelter in Swaps home, and Swap, being his greatest friend, immediately makes sure Dream rests, eats well, sleeps well, and does everything he can to help Dream regain his health back, from warm paths to ease the pain, to hugs, kisses and affection to replenish Dream’s emotional and mental needs

Swap never lets Dream back on duty till he regains his health, and to help ease Dream’s workaholism, he includes him in decision making and strategizing as well as bring him updates on what happens in missions Swap overtook

———

Color:

The problem with Color is that he sometimes gets distracted looking after people he loves that he often forgets his own health

This causes Color to experience bad burnouts and ends with him unable to get out of bed sometimes, his mental health declines rapidly during these burnouts

Color hates to be bound to one place and absolutely hates to feel alone, being bed bound usually stresses him out so much that it only contributes to further worsening his burnout because he’s really restless

As much as Killer loves Color, he doesn’t have the capacity to feel for Color’s emotional and mental needs, so the only way he knows how to ease Color’s restlessness, is by spending his time with Color and bringing his kitties to him, Killer also tries to show Color that he’s taking care of himself, just so Color wouldn’t forget himself again just to fret over him

Delta and Epic and Cross also make sure to surround him and make him feel like he exists, as Color fears to be forgotten and leaving him all by himself will definitely make him anxious, so they all just decide to watch movies with him and do home activities till he finds his energy back, keeping any and all usual problems to a minimum

It’s one of the few times the chromatic crew agree and get along, because they care so much about Color and think he’s more important than whatever little shenanigans that happens between them

[centrally-unplanned]

Guess I should throw out some Gaza Ceasefire Thoughts - from a political history perspective it certainly is interesting:

-- As for the deal itself, it is pretty much "the best one could realistically hope for", though funnily enough the details aren't that surprising. Israel for some time has had very little strategy in Gaza (beyond "release the hostages or we keep blowing up random blocks"), and so them agreeing to these terms is the expected outcome. Hamas also lacked any real strategic options, but in the summer you could at least argue "the status quo of radicalizing the population and shredding Israeli reputation is beneficial", so you can see why both sides really weren't committing to anything before in the summer. Things have changed since then, though.

-- The straight-up-humiliating defeat of Hezbollah in the fall was a complete game-changer for the strategic situation. As much as Hamas had a strategy it was "wait for Hezbollah/Iran to carry the weight of the fight", and that was going not-awfully through the summer. Then Israel absolutely shattered Hezbollah to the point where their ability to control Lebanese politics is up-for-grabs, and any real threat to Israel is temporarily gone. Meanwhile Iran stacked that defeat with the revolution in Syria and their own military capacity losses, and while there is real tension in Iran between realist & radicalist factions, the current winds are blowing towards retreat. Combine that with the death of Sinwar, and the new Hamas leadership had no cards left to play. By the same token, Israel has few fights left to win.

-- This is why negotiations resumed in earnest in October/November, and right now you are seeing some pretty heavy exaggeration of the role of the Trump administration in this deal. It has been being hashed out for months, you can easily point to articles about progress throughout both of those months (example) and the Biden administration was heavily involved in the Doha talks. These things just take time, and both sides had a dramatic incentive shift recently. That is carrying the most weight here - talks were "90% complete" before any Trump reps arrived on the scene.

-- But the election certainly did play a role here, primarily because it was inducing uncertainty and changing incentives in the US. While it was going on you can see how both sides could "hope" that new administrations might let them gain an advantage, and understood that commitments from the Biden administration in August just weren't very meaningful. Additionally, while not very important the war was "an issue" in the election, and so the "action space" of politicians was shaped by that. Why not just...wait, and see how things go, right? Now there is no more reason to wait, you know what you got.

--I don't want to take all credit away from Trump on this, though. A theme I will continue to harp on, the "Imperial Presidency" has advantages. Biden was a perpetual faction appeaser, and you could credibly call his bluff on any decision around the war by going "you won't take the heat from your own party on this" from the left or the right. Trump can much more credibly claim "I don't give a fuck what I 'said on the campaign trail', I say what goes, make a deal or I will absolutely spite you". This is not a great strategy in a lot of contexts, but in foreign policy you need this sometimes. Dems really do need to take notes here, more unity in either direction and more strong brinksmanship from Biden would have been better.

--Now let's walk that back a bit - it is way easier for the Trump administration to play hardball. Elections make hard decisions much more difficult to pull off, as political factions can punish you more easily. The Dems have an asymmetric disadvantage here - they are inherently the "dove" party facing a topic where the median American voter is generally hawkish, and they are the party that contains a notable split within itself on the issue. Meanwhile Republicans all agree. No longer facing electoral pressure, it is much easier for Republicans to play a "Nixon goes to China" card and credibly browbeat Israel. No one will really think the Republicans are anti-Israel even if they do that, and Dems can't accuse them effectively of foul play because the party itself is split on the topic. This is "unfair" in a certain sense, for sure, but such is politics.

--I would be assigning way less credulity to the complaints amoung the Israeli far-right about Trump or Netanyahu "betraying" them. The far-right in Israeli is a powerful force, for sure, but by no means do they command the majority. They want to annex the West Bank and all that, but most Israelis disagree, the military isn't on board, it would jeopardize US/Arab ties, etc. Never say never but that was not really in the cards - if it was they would have done it already. Slow-roll settlement expansion is the plan, that will continue, but meanwhile there is nothing left to do in Gaza. Netanyahu is of course going to say publicly "oh boo hoo my hands were tied by the Americans I'm so sorry" while he gets almost all of his realistic goals. This is politics 101 stuff - though if the approval vote on Thursday goes sour then I am wrong on this, part of why I am posting it today. (Also another reason to not assign too much credit to the Trump admin - easy to "bully" someone who wants to be bullied)

Okay done - hopefully the ceasefire sticks, obviously this has been a disastrous war for almost all involved, never look the imperfect status quo horse in the mouth. It isn't the world one would want but it is better than the one we have right now.

[sofa-king-lame]

I'm curious as to what you'd do with 47 (out of spite)!

Yay thank you!

Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors or crappy formatting, I smashed this out in the notes app on my phone lol.

—

“Honestly, Eddie, we never understood what you were thinking moving to LA,” Helena sighs. “It’s so…progressive.”

“Abuela was here,” Eddie argues. “Pepa is here.”

“Your abuela came back, and Pepa has been thinking about doing the same. Soon you’ll have no family left there, Edmundo. Moving back here is the right decision,” Ramon chimes in. Eddie’s jaw tightens and he feels Buck tense next to him, and Eddie knows he’s biting his tongue to stop from interjecting. Buck had offered to be there when Eddie told his parents he was moving back to El Paso, and given the sick feeling that had settled in his stomach when he realised he was running out of reasons not to tell them he gratefully accepted.

“I have family here. I will always have family here,” Eddie argues. “The 118 are my family.”

“Coworkers, Eddie? Really? They don’t know you like we do,” Helena sighs. Buck is now visibly uncomfortable, enough that Eddie sees it in his peripheral vision.

“You’re right. They know he better,” he bites out. “This isn’t - I didn’t call you to argue. I’m moving for Chris, I need to fix things. I can’t do that when he won’t - when you won’t let me speak to for more than ten minutes at a time on a video call with a shitty connection.”

“Edmundo,” Ramon admonishes, “you’d better watch the way you speak to us or you’ll find yourself alone in your rental unable to speak to Christopher at all.”

“Excuse me? You remember he’s my son, right?” Eddie snaps. “He’s not your do-over child after you fucked the first three up.”

“See what I mean, Ramon? He never spoke to us like this before he moved to LA. You watch, he’ll be telling us the city turned him gay next,” Helena huffs and something inside Eddie breaks. He grabs Buck’s face and kisses him, dirty and wet, right in front of his parents. Eddie had resented his parents for a long time before he moved to LA, but pure spite and anger had been building inside him since the moment they appeared on his doorstep to take Christopher away from him. He wants to hurt them.

Buck has gone completely still and his parents are silent as Eddie pulls back, eyes unfocused and hazy as he finally realises what he’s done.

“Oh. Oh fuck,” he whispers as Buck pushes his chair back and darts out of the room. Eddie hangs up the call as his parents start talking over the top of each other and runs after Buck, catching him halfway to his car.

“Eddie, I can’t talk about this right now,” Buck starts.

“I’m sorry, fuck. Shit. I should have - I shouldn’t have done it like that,” Eddie stutters. “I should have asked.”

“Yeah, maybe you should have,” Buck mutters. He won’t look Eddie in the eye and it makes Eddie feel a little sick. He’s definitely just made things infinitely more difficult with his parents, and now…now he doesn’t want to go to Texas. He didn’t want to go anyway, he was moving purely out of necessity, but now he feels like he can’t. Because that fucking kiss -

“Is it always supposed to feel like that?” Eddie breathes. Buck’s eyes snap up to meet Eddie’s, bright blue and clouded with confusion.

“Like what?” Buck asks hesitantly. His hands are shaking, but he’s not breaking eye contact now.

“Like coming home,” Eddie whispers. He hears Buck’s breath hitch in his throat as he takes an uncertain step closer, reaching out but dropping his hand back down.

“Eddie.”

“Can I try that again?” Eddie asks. Buck nods enthusiastically and doesn’t wait, closing the distance between them and kissing Eddie in a way that is so devastatingly tender he might float away on the light breeze ghosting over them. Yeah, he definitely isn’t moving to Texas now.

“Fuck,” Buck laughs, his hands coming to rest on the back of Eddie’s neck.

“Look at you,” Eddie murmurs, “corrupting this innocent Texan boy.”

“Me? You’re the one who shoved their tongue down my throat in front of his parents,” Buck snorts.

“Yeah, well. Seems like my subconscious wanted me to create a reason to not move,” Eddie sighs.

“You’re not -"

“We’ve got a 48 off next weekend. Come with me to bring Chris home? Enough is enough. He can be mad at me here, but I’m done. I want my kid back,” Eddie huffs. Christopher can be as pissed off as he wants, but he can do it under this roof. In their home.

“Oh your parents will love me being there,” Buck snickers.

“I don’t give a shit what they think. Will you come?”

“Yeah, Eddie. Of course. Let’s go get him back.”

[gojodickbig]

just to clarify about my last smau, i see people saying “reader was manipulative because she’s forcing the jjk men to want a child they don’t want.” some people even told me in my inbox that i’m “baby tripping them” or “it’s not a difficult decision to just abort it.” yes, guys, it’s not a difficult decision to make if you don’t want the baby. in this case, in my smau, i wanted to show that the reader wanted to start a family with them (or extend it in toji’s case). there’s nothing manipulative in the reader’s behavior; she’s just trying to talk to them about how she feels, that she wants the child, and that she would do whatever she could to make things work. of course, in the chat with toji, i don’t say he’s wrong because if you don’t have the money or the time and you’re barely managing with everything, having a baby would be unfair for you, him and the kid. but still, try to put yourself in the perspective of a woman who wants the baby. try to look at both sides, not just the men’s perspective 😅. also, i wanted to clarify that in choso’s part, i didn’t mean that being 16 isn’t being a child because you still are, but i don’t think you’re so young that you need your brother around for everything you do, especially if the “baby brother” in question is yuji, who is more than capable of taking care of himself. so saying “i can’t have a baby because i have to look after my brother” when your “baby brother” can literally kill six men with one punch is a bit ridiculous 😅.

[saintsenara]

JKR really could’ve done with throwing at least one successful wizarding/muggle couple in there…

as much as i hate to say it, i actually quite like that wizard/muggle mixed marriages canonically don't really work, whether or not it was an intentional decision from jkr to present it this way.

the wizarding state is really quite authoritarian, and the sole motivation for its repression is to prevent muggles from learning about magic's existence. it also seems to have social mores - especially around gender - which are much more old-fashioned than those in 90s britain, which is only to be expected from a small, insular community.

the only plausible theory we can draw from canon is that - while this might change post-war [hence ron taking a driving test] - living in the magical world means separating yourself entirely from the institutions of muggle society. unless you actively insist upon it [which is my theory about ron learning to drive - i think hermione makes him as a point of pride in her muggle heritage], you don't have a passport, or a bank account, or a national insurance number [so you can't work in the muggle world], you don't use the nhs, you don't have any muggle-recognised qualifications, and so on...

everything you might do which would generate a record with the muggle state - getting married, buying a house, having a baby, etc. - has its own parallel system in the wizarding world.

[to the extent that - surely - a witch who marries a muggle man in a muggle ceremony isn't legally married in the eyes of the wizarding state? tom riddle might be a legitimate heir in the muggle world and a bastard in the magical one...]

and while we know there are wizarding agents embedded in muggle institutions [from snape saying in deathly hallows that petunia's letter to dumbledore must have been intercepted by undercover wizards working for the post office], their purpose isn't to facilitate cross-community interaction... it's to contain breaches of the statute of secrecy and stop muggles finding out about magic.

as a result, i think it's really likely that muggles married to witches or wizards have literally no rights in the magical world. and i think that opens up two ways of thinking about mixed marriages which are worth exploring:

firstly, that the number of abusive magic/muggle relationships must be enormous - and not just because of the violence the power imbalance caused by magic has the possibility of inflicting, but because the muggle partner has absolutely no hope of having their abuser face justice.

[after all, i guarantee that the only thing which would happen if a wizard was arrested by the muggle police for assault is the state's obliviators swanning in to wipe the memories of everyone involved... there's not a ministry worker we meet in the books who seems likely to think that muggle women's rights were more important than upholding the statute of secrecy...]

and secondly, that there must be plenty of non-abusive magical/muggle relationships which end up being impossible for the people involved to sustain because it's just too difficult to deal with the restrictions placed upon the couple by the wizarding state.

the complete legal separation between the two worlds - and the implied difficulty this causes in making it possible to form cross-community relationships - is one of the really subtle, insidious ways that the ministry maintains blood- and magic-supremacy, which canon hints at but never really delves too deeply into. and so i think it's worthwhile for us to take that and run with it...

[toyota-supra]

it does, and I do appreciate its inclusion (I especially appreciate that you can now choose which items are available, which is a great house rules feature) but MK8 is not built for no-items, and as you have already pointed out I do not think would be a correct direction for the series

I don't know what I'd do necessarily as I am not an experienced game designer with such pedigree as nintendo but I would at the very least take a look at the recent fangame Robotnik's Ring Racers, where item boxes work instead as a fixed order roulette, which balances items more since they are not designed for specific placements in the race but rather for anyone who rolls them, and ensures that high level play involves a lot of control over which items are in play, therefore more strategy and direct responses to each other

or they could at least start with considering which items actually encourage party play, because if people genuinely think items like the Blooper (makes it difficult to see the screen, which really only affects human players and gives a strong disadvantage to inexperienced players and a very negligible one to experienced players) and the Lightning (turns everyone but the user into smaller versions for some time, in hard difficulty the cpu may use this three times in a single race) are fine as they are, then nothing I could say would mean anything

some kart racers have fixed item boxes results (Cars 2), different item pickup interactions (LEGO Racers), and some have fewer items than MK does but have more types of interactions in the tracks (F1 Race Stars for example), and these encourage different types of strategies in both casual and high level play, there is a lot one could do

but personally I would also try to tweak the driving itself to be more engaging and less painful on the hands because mk8 disappoints a little in comparison to other mk games and other kart games. at least 8 Deluxe has that "auto a press" feature, racing games aren't supposed to hurt your right thumb like that

and little has evolved in the driving since Wii for me, really all its sequels did were to add different environments for your kart to have different physics but they didn't particularly change how driving worked and made it control a little worse. which wasn't the wrong decision to make, even, but I do think the driving itself needs to change together with the items

sometimes when I do my whole "mario kart is not good racing" schtick at people they dismiss it because I must just be salty about losing or whatever but I'm actually pretty good at mk on a casual level it's more so that the game is so built around items that it is agreed upon in higher play that slowing down is optimal and I'm sorry but slowing down to win a race is the most unbelievable nothing strategy imagine max verstappen letting 10 cars pass him because he gets a star on the next corner if he does that you cannot fucking call that racing to me anymore

[valentine-cafe]

May I have a churro with some egg tarts this time?

[Afab reader]

Just thinking about Alessio running back to his "dumb" human again!!

But this time you're not safe in your apartment anymore!

He saw you bound in ropes in the living room with a gun pressed to your head and tears in your eyes. He saw red, and it was over before it even started.

He'd make sure there was a cloth over your head so you wouldn't see all the blood splattered around your home.

He knows you can't stay there anymore.

It was really an impulsive decision, he had to take you to his home!

You clung onto him so tightly the whole way there and your muffled cries into his clothes made his heart clench.

It made his heart pound when you didn't flinch away from his bloodied hands.

He shoved you towards Jingyi when you first got home, telling him that he needed to make sure you stayed safe. And you're just a dumb human after all!

So maybe that's why it was so easy for you to cling to a stranger with teary yet hopeful eyes!

Even when there was not even one emotion crossing his pretty face, just peering down at you with the prettiest pair of snake eyes you've ever seen.

Clinging onto him oh so tightly with the promise of being kept safe.

There was a moment of silent communication between them, longing into each other's eyes.

It was like they were one, Jingyi fully understanding Alessio even when there wasn't a single word said. Like a full conversation was made in the seconds of silence, even with Jingyi's concern about a human being in an enigma sector hanging silently in the air.

how did you even get here in one piece? How this dumb human has caught the eye of his fiancé. All being left unsaid and unanswered from just a single look.

The way you look up at him as if he's the whole world has him bringing a hand around your waist. Maybe he understands the obsession his fiancé has grown towards you.

Alessio tells you that he has to leave to take care of a few loose strings, but he doesn't include the fact that he's hunting down every last being involved with the little stunt they pulled on you.

He's gone before you can respond back.

Your pretty eyes would make their way to him again, and later, with the same tears in your eyes, looking up at him while he pounds away at your cunny!

All wrapped up in his tail. And it'll be those same eyes that light up when you see Alessio at the door. Only being able to call his name in a hoarse voice with Jingyis tail coiled around you and his cocks keeping your pussy stuffed full of his cum.

Jingyi will just say that you're so warm, that all the heat will come out if he lets you go.

But Alessio would make room because the envy that started to creep up on him made it difficult to ignore.

But you'd be sure to litter both of their faces with kisses!!

🍄

˖⁺. ﹙ rockstar punk bf  x afab reader x naga mechanic. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . dumb human !! 🍒 :  alessio: rockstar ˖ enigma ˖ punk ˖ jingyi: naga ˖ grim reaper ˖ mechanic﹙ verse 1311 alessio & jingyi. ﹚

you're just their dumb little human who they love so much <3

Everything was so quiet as Alessio and you passed through the streets of the sector.

Oh it was bad news, a human in the sector with sudden permission to be there was unheard of. Hence why you were hidden away by him in several coats and scarfs. Deceiving citizen here and there that you were but an enigma wounded by outsiders.

What other choices did you have other than keep quiet after several empty threats from the man carrying you. He would never hurt you, right? There must be enough love in his heart for you to not do that—

Reclined in his hold, you point your teary gaze to his firm one, directed along the city streets and not once moving to look at you. Focus must be kept, any step into a wrong alley or corner could draw out someone who’d sense you weren’t engima or otherworldly for that matter.

He was more than happy to find you didn’t mind the blood on his hands staining you. It clicked something inside of him, that he’d have to process fully later.

To his fortune, he arrived at the apartment with you undiscovered. Ushering you inside and over to Jìngyí, who was but lounging in the livingroom, awaiting his fiancé to come back home from his mission.

The mere sight of you made his face twist in confusion and a scowl. Like a snake ready to lunge and snap the neck of its prey. What in the world were you doing here.

Why is Alessio suddenly bringing home a human, oh. Oh he gets it, you must be the little obssession he’s had for a few weeks now. A pretty thing you are, but you are invading their home—

“Behave.” Alessio snaps, a finger pointed in the other’s direction while his brows raise in warning.

Quickly does the serpent settle again, the only emotion that tinges his face confusion now. He tilts his head to inspect you further. Saying nothing. Before his white eyes flicker over to Alessio. It is not as though either of you can tell who he’s looking at.

Well— Alessio seems to have a somewhat grasp on it? You don’t know. For now, you let your adrenaline slowly deplete and you take in deep breaths, slowly moving to sit on one of the couches to relax the tense muscles in your body.

“I need you to take care of ‘em.” The enigma murmurs, pulling out a cigarette with a few more guns than he had before. . .

Wait— he’s going out?!

In an instant, you reach out to him and frown, scurrying off of the couch. In retaliation, he grabs you and settles you next to Jìngyí and sighs, rolling his head around for a moment to ease the tensions in it. Abyssal gaze meeting your soft one.

“You’re stayin’. Fangsie’ll take care of ya. He’s not that hostile, don’t worry.” He huffs and lets go of you, watching his fiancé wrap the tip of his snake tail around your waist to keep you from going anywhere, or do anything rash.

“But, I don’t wanna be alone.” You call quietly, looking down at the tail and then at Jìngyí, only to look at your savior.

“You’ll be kept in good company. He don’t speak much, but I’m sure you’ll both get along.” Words spoken earn a loud huff of offense from the man next to you. Rolling his eyes.

“But—” You start and look back and forth frantically, a hand slapped across your mouth gently.

A sigh passes through your ear, followed by the clicking of gear put onto the man in front of you and the other. He looks over his shoulder, magenta hues softly resting on your melancholic expression, moving to the naga’s.

It is as if the both of them are having a conversation you cannot hear or comprehend, and when they are both finished, they nod to one another as Alessio departs and shoots you a small wink and grin.

The apartment is so quiet all of a sudden. You dare not look at the man constricting you from running.

Not until you feel careful fingertips at the bottom of your chin. Redirecting your face to face his.

Oh those pretty eyes that you have. . . They are so very agitating.

He struggles to understand what it is Alessio finds so outright addictive about you. Until, the longer your presence lingers around his. The reaper slowly begins to realise why.

You just are too adorable. Yet a pathetic human. How did you find yourself in this predicament in the first place? He ponders and ponders, no answers ever come.

“Mr. Agresta could you please avert your gaze,” The small murmur caught him off guard, however, he can only respect the request. So turning his eyes to a different object in the room, his face remains in the same pokerfaced expression it has been for a while now.

What does he see in them? I do not understand. He asks himself once more.

And he is annoyed when his gaze moves back to look into yours. Of course you had been looking at him while he looked away. Was that not a bit unfair now?

“I leave your gaze only for yours to continue to stare.” He mumbles.

The gloss in your eyes is so wonderful. He wants to see it stay. Yet he dare not lay a hand on you in any lusting manner, not without consent.

“Such a rude thing of my fiancé to keep you all for himself.” He sighs and leans down against the couch, allowing his robes to part just a bit.

You swallow hard, while the blood rushes up to your cheeks and colours them a beautiful rosy red. Listening for more words.

“Would you mind if I had you for myself, too?” He chuckles. Head tilting to the side, while his hand hovers above your hip.

And everything transitions to a sight before you blurry, as your wet cunt squelches for each thrust that it recieves. Crying out in relief, as if she hasn’t been fucked open by Alessio just a few nights ago

“J—ìngyí- !! Mnghh-” The moans come spilling so willingly, your hands pinned above your head and legs split far apart by the snake tail that has wrapped itself around you multiple times. While two large, throbbing cocks fuck in and out of your poor cunt.

“Feel good doesssn’t it? Sss— mghnn s-so warm!” Cold breaths huff against the hot skin of your neck, as the naga coiled around you manhandles you. The tip of his tail finding your clit to rub harsh circles on it and draw another orgasm out of you. Your juices splurting and squirting out onto his dicks, mixed with his thick cum.

Fingers move up to rub at your perked nipples. His tongue swirling around one before popping it into his mouth. You back arching on impact. You get pulled back quickly so he can keep you in a bone prone positions.

“I can’t take i-t s—so warm, w-anna stay inside you forever.” He hiccups, his eyes flickering over to the door opening and familiar magenta eyes peeking through as Alessio enters the apartment.

The naga is quick to shift you into the plush couch so that you do not see the man. Fucking you into you rapidly while glaring at his fiancé, just to rile him up a bit.

Oh and Alessio is getting riled up, his mouth hanging open at the sight.

A hoarse gasp rushes out of your lungs. Chest heaving quickly as you feel another orgasm coming on, while his thick spurts of cum fills you up once more. Your belly swelling slightly with the amount of semen he’s filling it up with.

“Warm warm gnh nghhhh!!! Fuck—” He hisses out and fucks a bit quicker, to help you get the last orgasm out.

It squirts out of you so pathetically, earning a chuckle from the sudden third presence in the room. You pant and whine, looking up at Alessio who must’ve arrived a moment ago.

You can practically see and feel the jealousy wavering off of him.

“Aless- ssio—” you whine out and take in a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart form the severe pounding sending shivers up and down your spine.

Every little shift and move has you whining. The snake cocks buried in your cunt put on display for the man drying blood away from his hands while watching earns you a deep groan.

“I know. I know. Told you that you’d have some good company. . .” He murmurs, shooting Jìngyí a glare. Although the man notices nothing. Long gone is he. Somewhere in zenith, you’d assume.

“Make some room.” He jabs at his beloved gently, only for him to receive a whine. “Noo. . . warm…”

“Fine. But I have them when you’re done.”

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Noticed (Kikimora x Coven Scout! Reader)

Summary: After discreetly observing Kikimora's unsuccessful attempt to convey the weight of her feelings to Belos, you (the reader) make the decision to share your feelings with her.

Ao3 version

Requested by user on ao3.

Enjoy!

You've been a Coven Scout in the Emperor's Coven for quite some time, patrolling the Boiling Isles and Bonesborough with your fellow scouts and participating in a slew of perilous missions led by whichever Guard Captain was placed in charge that current day.

Presently, you were peering through the keyhole of the Emperor's throne room door, surreptitiously watching the interaction between him and the red demon with a short stature and an adorably shrill voice that you've been secretly admiring ever since you started serving your respected coven.

She was the Emperor's assistant, but it was clear that she had a desire to be more based on her diminutive, shy tone and the traces of blush emitting from behind her high collar.

You tried to listen more into the conversation.

"Your Grace?"

"Yes?"

"This is very difficult for me to admit, but... I wanted to... I just wanted to confess that..."

Kikimora paused for a brief second before deciding to start with a new sentence, voicing her sincerity.

While doing so, she pressed her index fingers together.

"You mean a great deal to the witches and demons who follow you. That especially goes for me, and I just wanted to say to you that..."

Belos couldn't help but release a small chuckle at her obvious affection for him, but it wasn't a mocking laugh as he removed his mask.

Smiling down at Kikimora with the same gentle smile that he gave everyone in his castle, Belos proceeded to gently pat her head a few times, causing Kiki's blush to intensify as she averted her gaze.

"What a fanciful way of saying you'll handle the rest of my duties for the remainder of the day."

After hearing her boss's response, Kikimora felt a sharp pain in her chest, like a stake to the heart, and her shoulders slouched immediately.

"Yes...," she mumbled out broken-heartedly, a droplet of sweat appearing on the side of her clawlike hair to display her disappointment.

"That's... exactly what I meant to say, my liege."

...

'Of course the great emperor doesn't reciprocate the same feelings. He's only the most powerful witch on the Isles and far too busy for love and romance. And even if he wasn't, why would he consider giving someone like me a chance?'

Kikimora said internally to herself, negative thoughts plaguing her mind as she sighed dolefully, pushing open the right side of the throne room door.

The moment she noticed a scout near the left side of the door, Kiki swiftly jumped.

Her fingery bangs rose as they revealed both her eyes, which were wide with shock.

"A scout?!" Kikimora shrieked, hoping to Titan that they didn't hear all of what was said in the throne room.

"My apologies, Ms. Kikimora," you quickly apologized, giving her a respectful bow. "I didn't mean to frighten you, ma'am."

Having quickly recovered from her surprise, Kikimora formed a frown of annoyance at you.

The demoness crossed her arms, tapping her talon soon after.

"You weren't eavesdropping on my conversation with the emperor, were you? Because if you were, I won't hesitate to--"

"These are for you!" you abruptly interrupt the assistant, revealing to her a bouquet of green and purple fly trap flower plants and a red bile-shaped box of shockolates that were beautifully adorned with a pink bow from behind your back.

Such gifts greatly surprised Kiki, and she slowly accepted them.

The demoness blinked twice, heartfelt emotions rushing through her.

"W-Wah?" she quietly uttered out. "These are for...?"

You gave a nod of your head.

"Yes," you answered, shifting to a shy stance as you rested a hand behind your head.

You gulped.

"I've noticed a lot of your plans and work throughout my time in the coven, and well, I just want to say that you're the prettiest, most intelligent, and reliable person in the whole castle!" you squeaked out, talking a mile a minute.

The prettiest, most intelligent, AND reliable?

Kikimora was already blinking out tears in her eyes from your words.

"I..." Your face tints red from behind your mask, steam practically rising out of your eyeholes as you swiftly take off.

"Hope you like them!" you shout, embarrassed by your decision to run.

As Kikimora watches you bolt down the hall, she directs her gaze to the bouquet and shockolates.

It felt... nice to be noticed for once.

[midnight--sadness]

had an idea—early 2010 games, like 2012/2013. gi-hun is VERY newly postpartum and looking for ways to make any money for his baby. in-ho doesn’t really give a shit about anything and is just looking for a semi-honorable way to die bc of the death of his last mate or some other circumstance.

I think it would actually be really interesting for in-ho’s character especially, because we know he’s very sensitive to things like pregnancy and children. I think it would be sick to see how he would react to postpartum stuff, especially considering he never actually got to live through it. The development of him going borderline suicidal to “I have to protect you, no matter what.” wondering how he would react to gi-hun’s postpartum heavy bleeding, difficulty walking/being physically active, etc.

I had this really vivid idea of gi-hun being insistent he can’t let his milk dry up, because if they do vote to get out and he leaves with nothing, he won’t be able to afford formula. Idk just. The thought of gi-hun in the bathroom w in-ho rubbing his back/holding his hand while he has to waste everything into the toilet or paper towels because the pressure gets to be too painful. (I thought abt in-ho “assisting”, i says horny-ly, but i think it would take away from the narrative)

so basically it would leave in-ho w/ very difficult decisions like

a) gotta kill a shitton of people to make sure everyone votes out so gi-hun can get away

b) kill a lot of people to ensure him winning, at the expense of his own life (which is worst case scenario for him, bc he LOVES milky bbygirl and wants to stay with him/care for him on the outside)

c) idk some other scenarios I haven’t thought of. asking to hear other perspectives/thoughts

note: gi-hun’s baby wouldn’t be in-ho’s, would be some jackass alpha’s who abandoned him w/ it because he was in debt or couldn’t accept responsibility. Another motivator for in-hun, he’s got a vendetta against the mf for essentially forcing baby mama gi-hun into dying to save his own baby—basically same thing that happened to in-ho’s wife different flavor

ooohhhhh i love this!!

i'm assuming that gihun's baby would be gayeong.

in this case, maybe inho signed up for the games but before he could actually be picked up and taken to the island, his wife and child both died. and now he kinda has to go to the games anyway since he cant pull out (lol), maybe even to repay the money that he was given by that unknown criminal.

so there they are, an alpha grieving his mate and child and a newly postpartum omega.... the possiblities are so delicious!!

i like to think that the first game is always red light, green light because it eliminates a large ammount of players (kind of like the cornucopia bloodbath in the hunger games). so, inho is there, considering not even making his way across the field when gihun's scent reaches him. he smells sweet, like honey and milk, clearly a new mother and inho's alpha instincts immediately put him on alert. maybe he is especially sensitive since his body was preparing to be a father and he needed to immediately pick up the scent of his new pup (or whatever idk). and he sees how gihun is moving, hand clasped to his belly, still sore from birth and thinks "i need to protect him".

gihun basically becomes the reason inho actually tries to survive the games. taking care of him calms inho down, makes him "docile" in a sense, and even when gihun is stressed and on the verge of a breakdown bc it isnt normal for omegas to be separated from their babies so soon after birth, inho helps him relax, telling him that he will do anything to get gihun to see his baby again and gihun, our sweet girl, says that inho has to get out alive as well so he can meet gayeong.

inho has no issues with killing other players if necessary, doing anything to ensure gihun leaves during the next vote. but as the money piles up people get greedier and not even their lives are worth much....

if they stay for most of the games, i can see inho helping gihun with his milk is a more traditional way, since breastfeeding helps the uterus contract and lowers general pains and aches in the body. it would kinda relax inho as well, since helping this omega would make his alpha hindebrain feel proud to be useful.

when they get out, both richer than ever, gihun introduces inho to gayeong (who had been staying with his mother). gihun and inho bond and inho becomes gayeong's new father and like two years later he gets gihun pregnant with twins 🫶🫶

[y0url0calvampire]

ASTER X FELLOW [Oc x Canon]

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

"Say.." Aster said, still holding the fox in his arms as they laid on that tiny worn down couch. "Theoretically, if you were to have access to unlimited money, what would you use it for?"

Fellow paused at that, furrowing his brow in thought. It wasn't a difficult decision to make truthfully.

"...Never worry about food, pay off any debt I have, buy that damn espresso machine I've always wanted, donate to charity, get Giddy a nice set of clothes..." Fellow then glanced back to Aster, his eyes taking in the sight of the face he had grown to care for. ".. and get a place where you, me, and Gidel can live peacefully for once. With absolutely no worries."

I HATE THEM WITH A PASSION AUGRHRRR

☆

[district4loading]

Thoughts on sana being the type to ask her partner to “kiss it better”

Cooking with Sana is a challenge.

Not because she's bad at cooking or difficult to manage. It's cause she's so distracting in only the best way possible. You always find yourself stealing kisses from her, hugging her or doing anything else for just a little bit of physical affection.

She just looks so cute with her hair put up with her cute little glasses and her little apron. Just so adorable.

This time you're baking croissants together out of boredom. Yes, baking out of boredom. When she brought it up--especially on her day off--you wondered if she'd been hit on the head cause who'd want to stand and bake for hours when relaxing was the better option obviously.

However, like she always did, she managed to get you in the kitchen with her once again.

At this point you've already made the dough. Of course, since you're the stronger one she made you knead it and flatten it out. So now her part is just to cut it in somewhat equal triangular shapes.

She was doing okay when you made the poor decision to sneak up behind her and snake your arms around her waist without knowing what angle she was holding the knife at. When you hear a high pitched yelp escape her lips, you think nothing of it because you assume she's just surprised but when you hear the knife drop on the counter and her frustrated whine, "Babe!" You realize somethings wrong.

So you hum and look over her shoulder just to see that her fingers bleeding. It's bleeding a lot so you're not sure if the cut is big or not, all you know is that it's on the side of her index finger. "I'm so sorry" You back away from her as she turns to face you, holding the wounded hand tightly in her other. You quickly reach over to grab a paper towel, noticing that her bottom lip is poking out.

Still adorable.

"Here, let me see" You take her hand out of hers and press the paper towel on her hands. "Come" You say, leading her to the bathroom where you can clean it and bandage it for her. Not only cause you feel bad but also why on earth would you make her do it herself?

She sits on the edge of the bathtub as she watches you grab the alcohol and the band-aid "It hurts" She pouts, giving you what might just be a death stare.

"I know babe" You sigh "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to" You apologize again because it feels like you can't express just how sorry you are.

You bring it to her and you drop to one knee in front of her, pouring the alcohol onto a cotton ball "I just wanna know what you were thinking to grab me like that when I was literally holding a knife"

"Well" You pause for a moment, hearing her wince when the alcohol connects with the cut "I just couldn't resist you, if anything you should've been more careful because you know I like to get touchy when we cook together"

It's only a joke and Sana knows it but she still glares at you all the same, watching as you snicker a bit. She can't hold up her act though, she ends up laughing with you but not too much. "asshole" She mutters underneath her breath.

You wrap the bandage around her finger "There, all good now?"

Sana pauses for a moment and shakes her head "mm-mm"

"What? Does it still hurt?" She nods, still not giving you a verbal answer "Well what do you want me to do about it?"

"Kiss it better" She puts her hand out in front of you. She has a big smile on her face when she says it and you can tell she's not joking at all. You don't have to think twice about it though, you take her hand into yours and you press your lips against it. You make eye contact with her, noticing that her eyes are still expecting "Go ahead, don't stop till I tell you to"

Now you're smiling and you can't help it as you kiss her finger a ridiculous amount of times.

You're maybe on your 20th kiss when she finally says that you can stop. "Feel better?" Sana pretends to think a bit and then she nods "So shall we get back to the croissants?"

"We shall, but you'll be the one cutting this time" You give her a look as she stands up "I'll be there, with my arms wrapped around you and my head on your shoulder while you do it"

"You know what, I like the idea of that... just don't make me cut myself" you warn.

Sana smiles "That's rich coming from you"

-

A/N: Good morning, afternoon or night wherever you are. If its morning, how about you start your day with some cute sana fluff?

[for-a-longlongtime]

Erin 😭😭😭 THANK YOU!! 💜💜💜 I'm super late with responding to all of the comments/rbs on this for reasons I can't quite explain - idk, I think it's because writing this took a lot out of me and wasn't like anything I'd written before. But most of all because Little Beast grew to be so precious to me and I'm still so overwhelmed that you and a whole bunch of other people liked it so much, I can't tell you how much that makes my heart and soul sing.

Thank you for answering all the questions I threw at you about the gods (idk I did a crazy amount of research for this, and I'd do it all over again), and just also for being an awesome person, as well as for having organized this writing challenge in the first place -- I just know I'm gonna be thinking of this now every Aug/Sept.

BTW - I watched Oscar's part in the Body Of Lies movie this past week for the very first time, and it struck me so much how his character Bassam reminded me of Santi in Little Beast (thanks for these gifs @arcanechariot!), so I had to share these 💜 (He's a little older in this movie than my Santi is in this fic, but still)

Also I realized that when I posted this fic as ass o clock in the morning, I had forgotten to give a couple of shout outs to the other people who also joined the Frith challenge. I still have to catch up with all the fics that have been written for this (it felt unfair to only rb a few, that's why I haven't done so yet), but several of them were a huge inspiration for me.

First of all there is @wolvieispunk's Ezra/Tyr fic "Two roads diverge in a forest..." - Io, it was absolutely magnificent and I re-read it so many times while writing Little Beast, particularly because of the Tyr and Fenrir connection (and I even used some dialogue verbatim from your fic because it did such perfect justice to Ezra as Tyr). I never thought I would've been so drawn to that 'eerily calm' part of him but I think that suits him so well as Tyr.

@almostfoxglove your Javi/Fryr on the horse from "An End to Drought" was a visual that got so embedded into my brain that I also had to implement it - everything about your fic was such a visceral experience! Incredible. Seriously. You too really tapped into the quiet calm part of him, but then brought out so many different aspects of him, it was gorgeous.

My love @qveerthe0ry with Max P/Loki in "What Means to You, What Means to Me", you know I was super excited about him/her/them from the moment you mentioned the concept, and I'm still fucking obsessed with that entire fic. I don't even think it was a concious decision I made to include him, he just pushed his way into Little Beast and it's only better for that!! <3

@morallyinept your Pero/Thor fic "The Lightning Shepherd" was so so beautiful, and frankly every time I referenced Pero/Thor in my fic I felt bad about it because he was not at all the man and god you wrote so so beautifully, but still your fic was so inspiring!

@beefrobeefcal your Joel/Freya fic "Purpose" was so goddamn striking and made really emotional (and when I say emotional, I mean devastated and wrecked). You wrote Freya telling him 'My beloved child - you are returned. You are needed. Tragedy and renewal bind you to me. (...) Decay gives way to rebirth.' and that just brought me to tears and also shaped the way that I wrote Joel in my fic, as a half terrifying brotherly anchor for Santi/Fenrir who also protects him and leads him through tragedy to renewal.

Last but not least @missredherring your Maxwell/Odin fic "An Escape Rope Tied Around My Neck" was short but so striking, and while it was really difficult for me to figure out how to bring him into Little Beast in relation to Santi/Fenrir, because him killing Odin is part of the prophecy, the way you portrayed Maxwell as being in charge, being up high and removed from most others except for Loki, just really stayed with me and eventually led me to write El Gran Senor Lorenzano.

You are all so incredibly talented, and I need to properly re-read all your fics and the Frith ones I haven't read yet so that I can reblog them!!

Go read all of the Frith writing challenge fics right here!

ps: @agentmarcuspike I don't know if you ever ended up writing your Frankie/Skadi fic? I kept checking your page at the time because I couldn't wait to read it, and because I couldn't help but connect him with Santi/Fenrir ofc!

Little Beast

Written for @perotovar 's writing challenge 'An Offering of Frith'. The P Boys they had planned were already taken, so I asked for Santiago Garcia and got Fenrir assigned! Pairing: Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x Francisco 'Catfish' Morales Word count: 18.5K Warnings: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI. 🏳️‍🌈 (DDDNE) DARK fic, AU. Extreme angst from A to Z. Lots of violence (guns, knives, beating, kicking), swearing, hate crime, homophobia (repeated use of a slur), abuse, repeated assault and murder, kidnapping, many mentions of blood and injuries, raiding, (body) horror, nightmares, substance use/abuse (alcohol, cocaine), smoking, arms trafficking, sex work, mental health struggles, trauma. M/M pairing, frotting, masturbation. Norse mythology meets Santi + P Boys meets magic realism in Colombia in the early nineties (so: Narcos related references like Escobar, the Castaño brothers and the Cali cartel).

A/N's: Written in Second Person - not reader insert, but Santiago's POV (aka you are Santi). Not gonna lie, this one is A LOT; writing it turned into some out-of-body experience. More about the gods & characters (and thank you’s) in foot notes.

main masterlist | read on AO3

Bogota, Colombia. 

You’re five years old and your name is Santiago. The house you share with your brothers and parents is small, deep in the comunas, and most people know where to find it. Lots of them will stop by, because of papi’s work, sometimes very early in the morning or really late at night. When you ask what kind of work he does, mama hushes you, and your brother Jay looks away. Your brother Joel however will quietly stare at your dad - too calm, while his eyes are so angry.

You’re seven years old and you still don’t know what your father’s job is. Not a teacher, or someone at the market. Not one of the guys who cleans up the trash on your corner. For a while you thought that maybe he was a butcher, because mami was often cleaning the blood from his clothes. “It stains so bad.” But you’d never seen him in the market, selling his wares.

Every few weeks he is gone for a long time, and often the police will visit the house, which always makes your mom cry.

Every now and then a new face will show at the house, asking to speak to your mother. The girls are always very pretty, dressed in bright colors. The guys often have shiny guns; some of them will let you hold it when mami isn’t in the room.

You see your father all the time when you’re waiting with her at the store. Often he’ll wear a funny looking hat, and sometimes his face looks different. But you know it’s him, always, by the smile and wink he gives you. When you tell mami, she never sees him and starts crying again, so you stop telling her about it.

Jay doesn’t come home often anymore. When you ask Joel if that is your fault, if you made him cry too, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. You’re okay.”

You’re not sure if you are.

When it’s your eighth birthday, your father suddenly shows up with presents that make you the envy of your friends. Boxing gloves, a large pocket knife - that your mom right away tries to take away from you -, and you all eat so much dulce de leche cake.

You wake up in the middle of the night because you hear your father arguing. The loud bangs that follow are unmistakingly gun shots, and you find one of the casings the next morning near the front door. When you ask your mami about it, she gets so angry that you run away from home for the afternoon to hide, until it gets dark and she’s had the drinks that make her happier.

When you got the boxing gloves, you didn’t know that they would also give you more time with your father - but they do. He teaches you how to throw a punch, how to avoid an attack, read someone’s body language. When to attack someone if you need to defend yourself. Which parts of the body are most vulnerable, and where to stab somebody to make them bleed out quickly.

He’s proud, always, as he tells people about how good of a fighter you’re becoming. “Takes after me.” You don’t - not really, but you do your best to make him continue to believe that. Until you start to believe it too and knock out a guy who is twice your age.

When you’re ten, they try to burn down your house. You don’t know exactly who ‘they’ are, but you’ve heard the name El Gran Señor Lorenzano often enough to know that you should fear him.

The first time it happens, your dad is just in time to stop the fire from escalating. The second time, he’s not home, so you do put out the flames together with Joel.

The third time starts with a flaming bottle being thrown through a window, and as you all stare at the sight, the door gets knocked down and men with masks on their faces storm into the house

Your father runs away, seems to escape the men somehow. Your mom is hysterical and won’t listen to anyone, not even when the tall guy hits her in the face, and you want to beg her to not cry because you know it makes men more angry at her. Not even with your fight training do you stand any chance, and all you hear when somebody shoves a bag over your head and drags you outside and into a van, is your brother’s voice - Joel yelling at you to not fight the men and just protect yourself.

You’ve been away from home for almost a year when you turn eleven, to the point that you don’t think of it anymore as an actual place you can go to. You think you’re still in Bogota but you’re not sure. Sometimes they make you get in a truck again, or a car. Almost always you have to hide; you know that they don’t want people to see you. Sometimes there are other people, or even kids, and you’re pretty sure that you’ve seen at least a dozen dead bodies over the past months.

It’s when they send you to training camp that you realize there’s no way they’re ever going to let you go. The training unit is not the army, but it feels like a military group somehow. Maybe this is like the guerilla fighters you’ve heard about, defending your country.

This time you fight without the boxing gloves, using only your hands or sticks, just like the other kids your age are also being trained.

There are five of you, and Ramiro explains to each of you how to get to the location. The white powder isn’t heavy, tightly packaged in plastic, and every step of the way to your contact person you’re terrified of losing it somehow. You know the consequences - have seen the boys who were shot in the head, and the ones who weren’t lucky enough to die so quickly.

The man who is waiting for you is tall, fat and smells like grease and blood. You don’t remember much of what he says, your heart thumps so loud that it feels like it’s inside of your ears as you accept the package he hands you in return.

You’re one of the four boys who make it back.

Gustavo, the fifth boy, shows up two days later. His lifeless body is covered in bruises and blood, and when someone dares to ask what happened, the answer is that rats will be dealt with accordingly. “Exterminated.”

After three nights of solid nightmares and another mutilated body that’s found outside as a warning, you stop trying to think of ways to escape.

You’re almost twelve when you meet Francisco.

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He’s quiet and keeps to himself, but he’s not shy. When some of the older boys mistake that for fear, deciding to taunt him, he doesn’t respond initially. Only once the biggest bully steps right up to him, a sneer on his face, does Francisco lift his eyes to him and stares him down - and you can feel the tension.

You see the twitch of Francisco’s jaw, and even before the other guy takes a swing you know this is not going to end well for the bully.

It’s impressive how fast the new kid tackles his attacker to the ground, blood streaming from the boy’s noise as he scrambles to get away. But Francisco’s hand closes around his throat, keeping him pinned down. In a flash you see a piece of glass held against the boy’s neck, and that’s when you know for sure Francisco learned to fight the way you did. Your father’s voice echoes in your head, “If you stab someone there, it’s all over.”

You want to be his friend.

Not because he’s a good fighter; he’s far from the only one around here. It’s because he seems to be one of the few kids who doesn’t want to fight, just like you.

By the time you’re twelve, you and Francisco - Frankie - have become inseparable. You know that he’s never known who his mother is and that his father was recently killed by Pero Tovar, one of Lorenzano’s most feared men.

While the other kids try to get their hands on cigarettes, or booze, Frankie is just interested in books.

You like watching him read. On the very rare occasion that nobody else is around, he’ll often read something out loud for you. Mark Twain. Something about going to heaven for the climate, and hell for the company.

The first time Frankie reads that aloud, you have your eyes closed while listening to his voice. It makes you think of the ‘business’ your dad would do, or the way Lorenzano’s men would refer to ‘the company’ and ‘the big boss’. Bullet casings and dried up blood, the smell of your mami cooking beans with pork, and how some nights you fell asleep listening to her cry when your father still hadn’t returned home.

The second time Frankie read those words to you, about a year or so later, you realize it isn’t about going to hell for the work you do. It’s about not being alone in hell since you’ve got someone by your side.

The runs you’re sent on to drop off the product are not that bad at first. It’s a relief to be able to walk the streets, not be holed up inside or be in training.

Most of the kids that work for the cartels still live with their families in the comunas. You, Frankie and the others don’t have that freedom.

There are curfews to follow, gun practice, different kinds of training. It’s not the army, but it might as well be.

There often is discussion about the ACCU, Autodefensas Campesinas de Córdoba y Urabá run by the Castaño brothers. But when one of the other boys mentions FARC, he’s immediately silenced with a hard slap to his face by the instructor. “Those fucking communists. They’re the problem, you understand me?”

Pablo Escobar, however, turns out to be one of the few topics that’s welcomed for discussion by your instructors. Sometimes you have to think of the prayer candle your grandmother would light at the small altar in her living room, the framed picture of Escobar on the wall almost as large as the one of your late grandfather.

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Frankie is the only person you confide in, and you listen to the stories he tells you about his father. In return, you tell him about your brothers, Joel in particular - but the nightmares you have that night are enough to stop you from bringing them up again. It’s better not to think of your family; keep them locked away in small boxes in the back of your mind, where you can pretend they’re okay.

You’re both still not sure how you ended up here. When Frankie points out Tovar one time in passing, you recognize the man with the scar on his face as one of your dad’s frequent visitors. And the person who tried to kill him that night they took you away.

You’ve been getting some attention from the girls, but it’s nothing to the amount that is directed at Francisco - not just the girls in your group, but even during a drop-off in the brothels at times.  That’s how you’re both urged to ‘take some time with a girl you like’ when you join Juan for a drop-off. While you’re fucking a brunette who is a few years older than you are, Frankie is getting busy with a pretty red head on the other side of the room. You try to sneak a peek every now and then, but you know you have to be careful. If anyone catches you looking, you’ll get your ass beaten up - but you still can’t keep your eyes off him. 

The girl - Rosa? - under you moans, calls you ‘papi’ as she asks you to fuck her harder, and you do so. She’s tight and wet around your cock, and pretty, and you like her small tits, but your head is too focused on not openly looking at Frankie, making it hard to come. Once you do, Rosa kisses your cheek as she gets up, gives you a towel and she tells you she’s gonna clean up. Frankie finishes up not long after that.

When you’re both waiting in the dark alley out back for Juan to wrap up business inside, sharing a cigarette with Frankie, you can’t help but ask him. “Was it good?” You’re hoping he says no - that you’re not the only one who barely got off. Because maybe you’re not the weirdo if there’s at least one other person who feels the same, who isn’t thrilled like you know the other boys would be. “The girl.”

Frankie shrugs as he inhales the smoke, closing his eyes. “She was friendly. Nice.”

You wait for more words, but they don’t come from Frankie. So you try to force your own words out. “Yeah. Friendly.”

When Frankie opens his eyes again, he looks tired and conflicted. Unsure perhaps. He lifts the cigarette to his lips again, and your guard is down too much to stop your eyes from following that movement. 

His mouth.

Fuck, now you’re really hard. 

“We’re friends, right?” Frankie’s voice is hoarse, and somehow that sound makes your dick throb even more. 

You nod, then clear your own throat when you realize it’s not really all that clear in this dark street. “Yeah, of course,” you manage, trying to remember how long it’s been since you two met. Four, five years?

More of Frankie’s lips around the cigarette, and more tiredness in his eyes. Perhaps the uncertainty in his expression is more like the fear you’ve had beating in your chest now for half an hour already.

“Good.” Frankie nods, and before you can ask him why, he pushes you back against the brick wall, covering your mouth with his. You groan softly, your breathing suddenly so fast as he kisses you in a way you’ve never experienced before - in a way that, until now, you’ve never wanted to kiss anyone.

The sigh that escapes from Frankie’s mouth into yours is quiet, but you can feel the relief in his body when you kiss him back, feel how he grabs your hips and presses closer against you. You’re so hard that for a moment you can’t think straight, not until you feel him grind his cock against you, and then everything just goes electric in your head, because he’s just as hard as you are, and there is no time, because anyone can walk in on you two right now. It’s such a fucking dumb thing to do here - or anywhere.

He whispers your name, making it sound like a question, and when you nod and suck on his tongue, his hands slip from your waist to your ass, grabbing you tight and oh - fuck. Fuuuck. 

It’s not even a minute of desperate kissing, panting, the uncomfortable but so fucking good rub of his cock against yours through your clothes, and before you know it you’re whispering his name too, the word turning into a plea, because please, Francisco, please - and then it’s no longer just rubbing against each other, it’s Frankie actually fucking you against that wall, right through your clothes, neither of you breaking the kiss until you both come just like this. Right in your pants, not even having put a hand on each other’s dick, just pressed so closely together while you’re drowning in the taste of his mouth.

“Hey, assholes. You ready to go?” 

Juan’s loud voice booms through the alley, and Frankie immediately lets go of you like he’s been burned by fire. He moves several steps away, nearly tripping over his own feet, and the fear in his eyes is as loud as the fear beating inside of your rib cage. 

You drop down to one knee and tug at the laces of your sneakers, pretending you’re tying them, giving you just a few more seconds to catch your breath before you need to look Juan in the face, who seems completely oblivious about what he almost walked in on.

“Shithead. Took you long enough to keep us waiting.”

You’re both eighteen when someone catches the two of you. Your hands and mouth on Francisco in places they shouldn’t be, and his hands and mouth all over you. The fact that you’re both still fully clothed is probably the only thing that saves you from a much worse treatment. 

You beg them not to hurt him, tell them to give you the beating twice, even swearing that you were the one forcing yourself on Francisco. 

Somehow you manage to convince them, and it’s the comfort of knowing Frankie isn’t hurt that helps just a little against the abuse. Against the ringing in your ear which lasts for almost a week, the bruises on your ribs where they kicked you. You let it happen, know that it would be better if you didn’t fight back even though you could probably take out at least three of them. It would be one thing if it were just some guys bothering you - but a few of them are part of the leadership, and there’s no going around that. 

You see the anger and helplessness in Frankie’s eyes, the way he balls his fists and looks like he’s ready any moment to tackle the guys. But you know there’s no point in letting him get in between them and you, because you know better than to show any sign of weakness.

It is only once the tallest and older guy grabs you by your jaw, his other hand undoing his dirty pants, that you fight back. In less time than it takes him to growl “let’s see how good you suck my dick”, you kick out another guy’s legs from under him and swipe his knife, knocking your assailant down in the same move. 

“You want me on your dick?”, you yell as you grab him by his balls, jerking his pants down roughly so his dick and balls flop out. Your knife is against the base of his cock before he can even blink, and you stare him down, pressing the razor sharp blade against his skin and not caring if it draws blood. “Dare me,” you hiss at him as you spit into his face. “I’ll fuckin’ cut it off you right now.”

The other men jump you before you can slice into the man’s sweaty pale skin, just a hair away from cutting off his pathetic excuse for a dick and shoving it into his mouth to choke on. Frankie meanwhile has had enough, now launching himself at the biggest men who are holding you back - and if these were any normal circumstances, you’d welcome the help. Instead you just shake your head, begging for him to see that you’re dead serious about not wanting him to interfere.

“No,” you mouth wordlessly, then gasp out loud as you bite your lip until you taste blood, working hard to swallow your cries as someone pulls your arm behind you and breaks at least two of your fingers. There’s no way you’ll give them the satisfaction of hearing you cry, so you just stare at Frankie until you trust your voice to not crack. “Fish, get out. Go back. I’ll be-...”

“Fuckin’ fag.”  

Someone’s steel toe boot lands in your stomach, startling you with the hit of pain, and this time you yell at Frankie as they drag you away - that it will be okay, that he has to lay low and look after himself. The same way Joel had yelled at you when they had ripped you from your home and thrown you in the back of a van.

“You need to be smarter.”

The voice is suddenly so close that it makes you wince. Especially after having been locked up in silence and darkness for two days, without anyone coming to let you out or even say a word to you. “Please, just stop, okay?”, you manage as you get up to your feet, leaning against the cement wall as your head won’t stop spinning. “I haven’t done anything since. Can you…”

“They feed you?”

You stare at the man who interrupted you, trying to focus on the vague outline of his body as you can see - no, feel - him move closer through the darkened cell. “What? Who are…”

“Esdras-... Ezra. I asked you something, boy.”

“No. They didn’t.” You raise your chin up in defiance, even if he can probably not even see it. “I’m fine.”

The stranger hums, pushing some food into your hand. “You need to stay strong. Get stronger, and smarter.”

You can’t help but shove it right into your mouth, and by the time you’ve swallowed all of it your stomach is already hurting. It was a stupid move, and you usually know better; small, slow bites are the best way to eat after having gone without for a while. But the hunger and loneliness had gnawed at you these past two days, making it hard to think straight.

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You’re locked up for a week, but Ezra keeps showing up daily with food. With conversation, too, even if it’s mostly him talking. It remains unclear how he fits into the organization you’ve been with for years now. When he mentions ‘El Gran Señor’, you suddenly remember Lorenzano, the fires at the house, your father as a fading face in the crowd. 

After they took you away, your father never showed up anywhere again for you. Not in your dreams either. You wonder if it’s because you failed him, because you didn’t fight well enough - even though Joel told you not to fight, keep yourself safe. Maybe if you’d been more like Jay, this wouldn’t have happened. 

You only get a decent look at Esdras’ face once. 

His eyes remind you of Francisco.

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Once you’re finally released and sent back to the barracks, it takes just a few hours for you and Frankie to sneak off somewhere. When he kisses you, both of you pretend to not notice the tears that are flooding your eyes. 

Out of that cell, his warm body under yours, it really sinks in what you’ve known deep inside already for months, despite knowing the risks and consequences. 

There’s no way you can ever give this up. Give him up. Not even if they try to beat it out of you.

When Ezra shows up one night, standing at the back of the communal dining area, Frankie tenses up in the seat next to you. He nudges your leg with his foot as he continues eating, then draws your attention to the other side of the room with a barely noticeable flick of his index finger. 

Even when you tell him this is the guy who gave you food when you were locked up, he won’t take his eyes off Ezra. Frankie has always been taller than you, broader, and when Ezra passes your table you can tell by the way he sizes him up that Frankie has already considered at least three ways to take him out.

“Santiago. Tell your guard dog to stand down.”

Slowly you close your fist around the fork you’re holding, your anger right under the surface, but the smirk tugging at Ezra’s lips makes it clear that his words were a test rather than a challenge.

“I can train you. An hour every night. You’re good - but I can make you great.” Ezra nods at Frankie without taking his eyes off you. “If anyone besides him finds out, we’re done and they’ll probably take you away.” 

“And do what?” Francisco is still staring at Ezra, and you’re sure he’s figured out at least one more way by now to take him out. 

“Kill me,” you say, with zero doubt about that outcome, at the exact moment Ezra also says, “Kill him”.

Frankie’s eyes narrow immediately, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he tries to control himself. “What if he says no?”

“He won’t,” Ezra replies simply, at the same moment that you nod and tell him you’re in.

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Ezra is a study in contrasts. He speaks like someone from Francisco’s books, with a slight accent that makes him stand out as much as his blond patch does, and often more candidly than most people are expecting. It’s only much later, when you hear him speak to an American guy, that you realize he’s likely not from Colombia.

“The origin of my story is fairly irrelevant, Santiago.” He waves off your question when you ask him about himself. “Besides, people are never quite so hard pressed to go find Parson on a map.”

He’s worked for Lorenzano for many years now, initially a mercenary who became one of the people highest up in the system. The nickname most people use for him is The Judge, or, if you are to believe the most wild stories about it, La Venganza - The One Who Brings Retribution. 

Lorenzano and Tovar primarily run the organization, neither of them shy about the opulence and violence around them. But Ezra is a third pillar whose sober green-brown clothing often makes him blend in anywhere. Anything but quiet, but focused on other things than his two partners. He’s not keen on having a public face as he prefers to move quietly, getting both the impossible and the unspeakable done.

Most people fear him and it doesn’t take you long to figure out why. The man moves and fights like a killer, striking without hesitation, and you can’t help but wonder if he has had military training. He was right about what he had told you at the start - he did make you better and stronger, in physical combat as well as verbal expressiveness.

Frankie notices it too, even only a few weeks in. “When you get back here, you always look like you’ve been fed,” he remarks one night as you sit on the rooftop with him, gazing out over the thousands of city lights sparkling in the dark sky. “He said yet what he wants in return for all the teachings?”

You shake your head. “I’m sure that’ll come later.” And see, that’s something you still haven’t learned in all those years. It’s hard to look ahead when you don’t know what to expect and don’t have something specific to look forward to.

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You’re still eighteen - or so you think, because it has become impossible to keep track of the days - when you realize that you actually love Francisco. 

As you slice the throat of the guy who tries to attack him, you know that you would do anything for him. It doesn’t matter that it takes you hours that night to wash your blood soaked clothes.

Your mother was right all those years ago. Blood stains are hard to get out of fabric.

Once killing becomes a regular thing of your work for the syndicate, so do the nightmares. It’s not like you didn’t have them before; they’ve always been there, ever since Lorenzano’s men took you away from home. But this time you keep seeing the faces of the men you’ve killed; sometimes one by one, other times all of them together in a room. 

They keep coming back, unwilling to let you rest. 

Sometimes they try to speak to you, other times they can’t. Occasionally you need to kill them again, but their screams get drowned out by Frankie yelling for him - but you can never find him, see him.

You see your brother Joel every night that you dream of the people who died by your hand. 

Half of him looks normal, even though he’s older now: a man instead of a boy, still several years ahead of you in age, and you wonder if this is really what he looks like now. The other half of his body he keeps out of your sight if he can help it, turned towards corpses or soon to be dead bodies that are bleeding out. 

You know he tries to not show you that side of him because it scared you the first time; it was still Joel, but mostly just bones and muscles and tendons, someone who stands half in the world around you and half in the underworld. Worse than a ghost. But still Joel.  

Every time you see him, he tells you to keep yourself safe. “It’s not your fault.” But unlike when you were little, he doesn’t try to tell you that you’re fine. You both know that you aren’t.

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Others also notice how good you’ve become over the past year. How training exercises are a breeze for you, how much faster you are at tactical planning than most others. Now you’re eighteen, both you and Frankie are being watched carefully to see if you have potential to move up in the ranks - something Ezra had already mentioned and prepared you for. 

“Beat them at their own game, little beast. You’re smarter than almost any of them.”

At first you hate the nickname, because it feels like he is mocking you. But that was not Ezra’s style; he is always upfront and open, at times to a fault. Too many years in this place have made you hyper vigilant and protective, quick to attack with bared teeth and intention to take the other person down. But around him that’s not necessary. So you reluctantly accept the nickname, work to do justice to it.  

Once they start sending you off on serious engagements, you find that Ezra tends to be in charge of many of them - the raids, the more undercover missions, occasionally dealing with conflict among stakeholders rather than just being there to clean up a mess. It’s not surprising that you and Frankie work well together in the field whenever you’re teamed up; you both know each other so well, including limits and strength, to the point that you can easily anticipate each other’s moves, and that puts you front and center for effectiveness. 

On the rare occasion the two of you are split up in different teams, Ezra is always assigned to Frankie’s group - something none of you comments on. They’re not exactly on friendly terms with each other, particularly to Frankie always being cautious, but then again they don’t need to be. The mutual respect is reassuring, especially because you’re sure Ezra knows there’s more going on between you and Frankie than the syndicate allows for.

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The next time you dream of Joel, there’s a black wolf cub playing at his feet, gentle and even tempered, playfully nipping at Joel’s fingers. When he sees you, he immediately bounces over to smell you, then happily paws at your legs - just like he’s just any other stray puppy, excited to get your attention and become familiar with your scent. His joy is contagious, and it’s not long until you’re sitting down on the ground to play with him, where eventually he falls asleep in your lap.

When something in the darkness catches your eye, the pup stirs almost immediately from his sleep, picking up on your body language. In the blink of an eye he’s put himself in front of you and Joel, suspiciously eyeing the wisps of smoke that curl from the darkness. He growls low, baring his small fangs as he tries to make himself bigger than he is to face the unknown.

Joel hushes it gently, assuringly. “Little Beast, you’re okay.” When both you and the cub simultaneously look at him, you wonder which one of you two he is talking to. 

Even if the days have become more bearable and lighter since you met Francisco, you still don’t think you’re the one who is okay - and sometimes you wonder if you ever will be again.

Ezra fights dirty. 

Knives, guns, hand-to-hand combat; he always has an extra card up his sleeve somehow. But it’s not the moves or weapon mastery you learn from him that make you better and faster. 

It’s the resilience he teaches you. Clearing your mind, striking without hesitation. Thinking ten steps ahead and not giving away what your next move is. You’ve seen him out on the streets or during raids, and unlike Lorenzano and Tovar he tends to hang back, take a moment to take in the scene. While they go in guns blazing, often blasting an actual path through people to get what they want, Ezra is more deliberate. If he can take out just a single target to get the job done, he’ll opt for that - he knows that other syndicate members will deal with the rest of a DEA team, guerilla fighters or a competing cartel. 

He’s also one of the few in leadership who makes calculated decisions regarding the location that he will take out a target. You’ve seen Gilberto kill more than a few sicarios by simply showing up at their houses - no regard for any wives, children or elderly people who either get into the crossfire or are witness to it. But Ezra will always opt for a much cleaner kill; out in the street, in a bar or at a roadstop when it’s least expected. If it didn’t all come down to the same thing - killing people and moving coke or arms -, you would almost call it more ethical.

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One night, you hear the pup whining before you see it - a low, unhappy sound that chills your blood. It takes too long to find him in the darkness, and you’re tripping over things in front of you, something telling you it’s probably for the best that you can’t quite see what or who they are.

You finally find the pup when his eyes open and look right at you, the golden pupils and white of his eyes a stark contrast to the darkness around you. As you kneel down to examine him, you see the golden cords wrapped around his fur, and a wave of terror washes over you. He didn’t just get tangled up in them; somebody deliberately put those bindings on him. 

You hush him softly as your fingers slide over the cords, trying to find any knots or weak spots where you can start prying them off him. “I’ll help you, okay? We’ll get you out of this.” But as you do so, the wolf starts wriggling around, his sharp teeth snapping at the cords around until they all break and disappear into the darkness, along with the rest of your dream.

“I’m moving to Cali in a few weeks.” 

Ezra offers you a cigarette, and you take it from him, your head working overtime as you digest the news dropped on you. “Shit. Alone?”

He shakes his head, sharing his lighter with you as he brings his own cigarette to his lips. “There are some relocations happening in the structure of - well. You’ve seen it out here,” he gestures at the city you’re overlooking from the hill you’re standing on. “The Army is withdrawing support from ACCU. Some new government people are acting surprised about the Field Workers Self-Defenders ties with the Castaños, which is bullshit. But dynamics are changing in Córdoba and Urabá, which also affects Cali.”

“Does that mean-...”

“Do you want to come along, Santiago?” Ezra blows out the smoke before he looks at you. “You can stay here, of course. Nothing much should change aside from my… influence.” You both know that means Lorenzano will make the decisions, and that without Ezra’s influence, life becomes a lot more unpredictable in the syndicate. “But Cali will give both of you the opportunity to move up. Be in charge of operations, eventually.”

You don’t miss the casual reference of ‘both’ that he uses, and you feel relieved that you don’t have to ask the question out loud - if Frankie would be able to join you, too. Part of you wants to say no, because leaving Bogota would also mean leaving behind the scraps of life you remember before the syndicate kidnapped you that night and roped you into their organization.

“Think about it,” Ezra interrupts your thoughts before you can respond. “Your choice to make, your consequences to bear. I know you never asked for all of this - neither of you did, of course. But owning your choices and what results from them makes all the difference.” 

When you ask Frankie later that night, he doesn’t hesitate for a second. “I’m in.”

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The move to Cali is uneventful in a good way, and the new living space is both brighter and larger than Bogota. Some things don’t change though: there are still about ten of you per sleeping quarters, but at least the beds are better and the facilities aren’t as old. 

It surprises you how it feels a little easier to breathe. You hadn’t expected it, but there’s a relief in just seeing the city as it is - not thinking about who had died on that corner, which house is a drop off spot or a brothel, or where you’d gotten beaten up. Even when you know it won’t last long.

The warmer weather means longer evenings outside, too. New spots that you and Frankie discover, where there’s just enough privacy to be together for a few minutes. You kiss him in new alleyways, let him press you against the wall behind a quiet church. Let your hands roam and grab when you’re on the rooftop and you’re sure that nobody is around. 

It’s never enough, and the waiting in between opportunities is torturous. Sometimes it takes weeks until you can take him in your mouth again, have him slide inside of you, or when you can fuck him - rushed and hard and frantic -, leaving marks that were made within minutes but that last for days as dark bruises on your hips and shoulders and thighs.

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Your nightmares remain the same in Cali as they were in Bogota. A constant every single night, at times in different settings than before, matching the buildings and streets of this new city. 

You dread all of them, but Joel’s presence in those dreams makes it manageable. Even when he’s not around, the wolf cub is always there with you. Protective and affectionate, at times bigger than you - but never intimidating.

Part of you wants to tell Frankie about your dreams. Not just about the cub, but Joel too. You just don’t know where you’d even begin to explain it without sounding insane.

Ezra gives you more space those first couple of weeks in Cali, training only every other day with you, then informs you that you and Frankie will be joining him on an assignment out of town. You’ve done this before and know that lodging is always together with leadership in the same room. Except this time that seems to be different.

“It appears there has been a miscommunication. They didn’t have any rooms with two beds, only singles,” he informs you, his face uncharacteristically neutral as he hands you a room key. “You two are across the hallway from me and will have to share a bed.” 

Your jaw nearly drops as you stare at him, and you can feel the disbelief radiating from Frankie, too. But Ezra pretends to not notice it as he turns away. “I trust there will be no disappearing, Little Beast. You know the fatal consequences of that.”

The room is shitty, there are only three channels that work on the tv, and there’s a concerning smell coming from the toilet if you don’t close the lid completely. The bed is a full size though instead of a twin, creaks every time you move, and has some threadbare sheets and two thin pillows.

It’s perfect.

It has never happened before that you and Francisco had more than half an hour of privacy to yourself in a locked room - let alone nine hours in one that also has a bed.

You fuck so, so very much that night. 

It’s deliriously intoxicating, having each other in every possible way you can imagine - and a few more ways you hadn’t even considered before. By the time it’s 5:30 am, neither of you can move anymore. Sore, exhausted and beyond spent you fall asleep, curled up against each other.

For the first time in eight years you don’t have any dreams, let alone nightmares.

The newness of Cali lasts about three months. By then, the city has gained the same marks and blood all over it that you had left behind in Bogota; the drugs, fights, but this time there are also bombs. 

It’s a lot more damage than you’re used to, the number of victims making your stomach turn when the news reports on it later those nights. Some of the other guys are thrilled when they see the result of their work on tv, bragging about it, but it sickens you every single time.

It’s bad for you, but it hits Frankie even harder. He has lost family and friends in the past because of bomb attacks, and you know that when he wakes up at night screaming, it often tends to be exactly that which replays in his mind.

You’re both used to helping each other through hard times, but you see his eyes become more distant as the weeks pass. You do what you can, from stupid jokes to trying to find him new books, but you can’t help but feel it’s your fault.

Maybe he wouldn’t be in such bad shape if you two had stayed in Bogota.

Maybe you did this all wrong.

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Frankie is fast. Really fucking fast.

Not when it comes to running, although he does well if needed. But it’s when you see him behind the wheel of a truck, with Ezra, you and a handful of other guys, that you realize just how good he is. Driving a getaway car, chasing down another truck through the city, diversion techniques. You don’t know where he even learned them, because it’s not that often that any of you get to drive. 

It’s Ezra who decides that this is going to be a regular thing for Frankie. “I want you as our transportation guy next time we venture out on an endeavor,” he says, eyes sharp as he observes Frankie switch gears, avoid a child who runs out into the road, then rev the engine to catch up with the other vehicle in your party. “Are you interested in cars?”

Frankie just nods affirmatively, his eyes locked on the terrain in front of him. You can’t help but chime in, also realizing this could mean that the two of you won’t be assigned to different teams anymore. “His uncle had a garage, so he grew up in it. Learned how to work on cars before he was eight,” you offer. 

It earns you a warning look by Frankie, who is clearly not thrilled about you offering that information - but you know it only helps his case. Ezra only asks things for a reason, and you know it would not be to fuck Frankie over. “He really knows his shit.”

“Good. That will get you far.” Ezra pulls out two guns, checking the ammo, then suddenly looks at Frankie like he just got a bright idea. “Francisco. Did you ever fly a helicopter before?”

This time Frankie actually takes his eyes off the road, and you can tell by the twitch in his jaw that he’s very hard trying to not show his enthusiasm. You know him well though, and his eyes suddenly look more radiant than you’ve seen in a long time.

“Not yet. But I bet I can with some training.”

The first time they put you in charge of a raid, you end up puking behind a bush once everything is over. More than just a few bodies are scattered across the property that’s about to be set on fire, and that’s not new - but being the leader of a raid hits so much harder than any time you had to merely participate. The only relief you have is that you don’t need to deal directly with the losses, or gather the money and drugs. 

When one of your men calls you over, he points his rifle at the three kids huddled against each other on the back porch, and you can only get yourself to look right at them once you feel Francisco’s hand on your back.

“Not worth the trouble,” you inform the guy who called you over, ignoring the way your stomach turns, and you turn back to the children once he has left. A six year old girl is the oldest of the kids, her eyes blank as she holds a baby in her lap and a four year old boy pressed against her side. Something about that look in her eyes reminds you of Joel - not the brother you grew up with, but the one in your dreams with that side he tries to show you as little as possible. 

“Are they dead?”, she asks you, still not showing any emotion despite the crying boys clinging onto her, and you nod. Whether it’s her parents or someone else she’s referring to, none of the adults in the raided house are still alive. 

She nods back at you, no sign of surprise on her face. “Please don’t hurt the boys,” she then says, sounding so much older than her age. “They didn’t–...”

“We won’t.” 

You breathe in deeply when Francisco speaks for you, then reach for the wad of money that you had put into your pocket a few minutes earlier. Stealing from El Gran Senor always ended badly, but these raids were the only options you had to get your hands on anything of value. 

The girl flinches when you reach for her, and once again it’s Frankie who reassures her. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“Do you know how to get to the village?”, you ask her as you put the money in her hand. She nods, and for a moment you could swear that you see a wolf cub staring at you from the trees. “Find someone to help you. Don’t show them the money.” You bite back the words of apology that are on your tongue, knowing that they won’t help or would even be believed. “You can do it. Be brave.”

“We have to go.” Francisco’s voice is tight but decisive, and you nod as you let him tug you along, back to the men who have loaded up their cars with all the valuables they could gather. Drugs, money, guns. 

Like the next raid will be. And the next. And the next.

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“You exceeded expectations, little beast. A mission well planned and executed. Congratulations are in order.” The look on Ezra’s face is one of pride as you debrief him. As he scribbles down some more notes to wrap up his report, you hesitate for a moment, considering one last thing.

“There were three kids.”

Ezra’s eyes flick up at you much faster than you expect, but then he shakes his head. “It appears that you are mistaken about this,” he says as he resolutely puts away his paper and pen. 

“I saw them. I…”

“You’re exhausted.” Ezra’s voice cut you off sharply, the tension in his jaw suddenly clear and reminding you of Frankie. “I appreciate you doing the debrief at this late hour, but you should probably rest. There’s nothing more I need for the final report.”

You know when to take a hint; know that the walls have ears, too, so you take the dismissal in stride. The walk back to the barracks is short, and most of the other guys are already fast asleep as you get in.

Francisco’s bed is only a few feet away from yours, one of about a dozen in the room. The moonlight offers just a small stream of light into the room, and as you start to take your clothes off, you can feel Frankie’s eyes on you. You’re both showered and cleaned up hours earlier, but somehow you still feel the smoke in your lungs and ashes on your skin, like some kind of phantom feeling.

Frankie watches you quietly as you strip down to your underwear. He knows that you’re aware of him looking at you, and you swallow hard when you see him shift under the blanket - see his hand move down to touch himself.

There’s no privacy here - there never is, maybe even less so than there was in Bogota. But at least there’s this, knowing your bed is just a few feet away from his. Being able to see glimpses of him in the moonlight. His hand moving further down, still under that blanket, and when his eyes close momentarily you know he’s got his hand on his cock. 

You get into bed and pull the sheets up over yourself, laying on your side so you can still see Frankie. When his eyes flutter open again, you slip your hand into your underwear to touch yourself too, and you see his eyes flick over your body as he realizes you’re joining him. 

It’s hard to control your breathing, especially when it’s so quiet at night, but you’re both experts at this by now. Hungry eyes focused on eachother in the mostly dark sleeping quarters. You pretending your fingers are his - him pretending his fingers are yours. It’s not much, but it’s something; anything to make you feel alive during nights like these. 

Frankie is in your dream.

And Joel is looking at him. 

Right at him - both Joel’s living half as well as the one that is in decay. It chills you in a way that’s so startling that the fear grabs you by your throat out of nowhere.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Frankie isn’t supposed to be in any of your dreams that are also occupied by Joel. It happens all the time that you hear Frankie scream in your dreams, but it is always separate from where you are - like he’s in a different space and the sound just happens to carry.

Not now. At least he’s not screaming, but he and Joel are looking at each other from a distance, before Frankie’s glance meets yours. Full of questions. 

You try to keep your voice calm, but you hear the trembling when you speak. “Don’t take him from me.” 

You don’t know how you would do it; prevent Joel from taking Frankie with him the way he does with the other people, the other bodies. All you know is that it can’t happen.

“I never would.” Joel shakes his head. “Besides, he’s a warrior. And she wouldn’t allow me to. She’s the one who owns his head.”

“What does that even mean?”, you ask, suddenly noticing the woman behind Frankie. She’s taller than he is, dressed in a style that seems very out of place, not in the least because of the brown fur that’s a prominent part of the outfit. But something is familiar about her.

When she puts her hand on Frankie’s shoulder, he glances at it for a second before he brings his eyes back to you.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Joel says, and you shiver from the cold wind that blows past you.

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By the third raid you lead, you understand why Ezra assigns you to these missions. You’re good at planning, leading your team, getting the work done, taking down the people that need to be eliminated - but you’re pretty sure that it’s really about the children. 

There never is any mention of them in the information you get beforehand; those reports are only about the adults, the snitches, dealers who don’t hold up their end of the deal, or the sicarios who have taken wrong steps. And you’ve seen what happens at other raids. Many of the others won’t hesitate to shoot a child, use them as collateral, and you don’t doubt that there are situations that end even worse than those two options.

You quickly develop the habit to let the others chase the targets while you - and most often Frankie too - will explore the premises to find any children. In some cases, they’re barely teenagers, the fear in their eyes clear enough to indicate that they are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Other times, they’re infants, toddlers, held close by siblings who are barely older than them.

Getting them out becomes a priority for you, particularly when after every mission you see Ezra’s relief when you make a subtle remark about any kids. There’s a lot he can’t say out loud, not just because of his position in the syndicate, but also because wiretaps have become frequent these days. So you keep it very brief, often will only mention it when the two of you are alone - a quick update on what happened to the kids.

“She was brought to her older sister.” 

“They ended up at the neighbor's house.”

“Someone knows where her other relatives live.”

You always swipe money from raids when given the chance, stashing it away in an air vent in your sleeping quarters that only you and Frankie know about. But as the raids occur more often, each leaving behind an even bigger impact than the one prior, you start to put most of the money in the children’s pockets before whisking them off to safety.

It never stops feeling like you’re trying to fix a broken dam with a band-aid, but it feels like the best possible option. Especially when you think back of how you landed in this position, and how you’d been taken away from your home. In an ideal world, you could decide to defect – find a way out for you and Frankie, take the money and run. But throughout the years you’ve seen that almost every single person who attempts to get out of this world will end up dead; not just murdered, but tortured first, before it’s all inflicted on the people closest to them, too. 

So you run the raids. Find a way to get the kids out. Have nightmares - then repeat. And repeat. And repeat some more.

The problem is that you’ve gotten really good at this.

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The next time you see the tall woman covered in furs, you’re not dreaming. 

It’s the middle of a raid, and you and Frankie are chasing down a guy who is trying to escape from the rooftop. He jumps over to the next building, and Frankie is about to leap the same distance between the roofs, when you suddenly see that woman right next to him. 

Calmly she puts her hand on his shoulder and Frankie stops abruptly, turning around to look behind him with a bewildered expression. “Santi, we-...”

A terrible scream sounds from the other roof, and when you look over, you see your target scrambling to hold onto something, while the roof shingles under his feet are slipping away. With a loud noise, the foundation of the roof falls apart, yanking the man���s body down with brute violence and you hear him scream more until a loud bang silences him.

“Fuck,” Frankie croaks, staring at the destruction, and you grab his untouched shoulder tightly, needing to feel him under your hands, that he’s really still here by the grace of not having made that same jump as the man did. “I think he’s impaled.”

The tall woman on his other side looks right at you, then nods as she steps away, disappearing into thin air in that same move. 

These days, when Tovar and Lorenzano make a stop in Cali, it happens more often than not that one or both of them will talk to you; an extremely rare occurrence for somebody in your position. 

Sometimes they’re there for a debriefing with Ezra, other times one of them will remark that bigger things are waiting for you in the near future. Trying to find a balance between doing the work that’s expected from you and keeping your head straight has become increasingly difficult, and you’re not the only one struggling with it.

Francisco oscillates between extremes most of the time. As a co-pilot, he’s mastered skills that very few in the syndicate actually have to offer, not to mention his skills when it comes to engineering and fixing up vehicles. Flying clears his head, grounds him in his body in the best possible way it seems. But once he’s back on the ground, especially when they need to go on raids and he’s dealing with anything but transportation, you often see him shut down and try to dissociate, something that’s hard to bring him back from. It gets even worse during moments when he decides to partake in the cocaine that’s always easily available.

A year later, you still haven’t figured out a way to get the two of you away from all of this. The money in your stash isn’t enough, and you know Lorenzano has men everywhere across the country - there was no way to make it anywhere without being shot in the head sooner or later. So you work. You learn from Ezra. You take the praise. And the nightmares - during the nights and during the days - keep getting worse.

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Leaving Cali happens in a rush, with none of you expecting it - including Ezra. ‘Reassignment to a rural area’ is the official message, which in practice means a camp right in the middle of the jungle. 

“We’re here to take out those fuckin’ communist guerillas,” was the more extended explanation that everybody who relocated from Cali to officially join ACCU. Also known as ‘Peasant Self-Defenders of Córdoba and Urabá’, the group had been founded by the Castaño brothers after their father was kidnapped and killed, in retaliation to the left-wing Marxist guerillas. ACCU was knee deep into the drug trade, and, as you had discovered years earlier, a lot of people fighting for them got here the same way you and Frankie had.

FARC, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia known as the guerillas, stood out because they did employ tactics like kidnapping, but weren’t involved in the drug trade. Instead they fought for ‘social justice and the rights of the poor’, which in practice meant a whole lot of enemies.

“These aren’t the usual raids,” Ezra told you in the first couple of days on the ground, as he’d been filling you, Frankie and the others in on the different stations, people in charge, and what to expect. “This is a lot of combat, sometimes involving hostages.”

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‘A lot of combat’ is an understatement, as you and Frankie find out right from the start. The amount of assault rifles was overwhelming, as were the number of casualties per week. No more flights for Frankie for the time being, now mostly driving trucks of various sizes. What perhaps is the worst of it all is the complete and utter lack of privacy, even by the low expectations you already had.

With all the communal areas even more exposed than in Cali, there barely was any opportunity to sneak off. Here, finding a good hiding spot meant doing so in the jungle, risking death, because the odds were too high that you’d run into FARC members.

At times there were reports coming in from the major cities. Whispers about a pact between the DEA and some narcos, competing cartels. American reports on what was happening in Colombia, which often had barely anything to do with what was really going on. Rumors about the commies having grown massively in numbers. Everything is urgent, all the time, but now with a constant threat of being hit severely worse than would be the case in the city. 

Sometimes you wonder if you and Frankie should’ve stayed in Bogota all along.

The second time you dream of the wolf cub in bindings, you immediately notice something is wrong - even before it cries out for you. This time they look like proper chains, the metal scraping against the cub’s fur and skin, and your first thought is that these are going to be much harder to remove than the first ones.

They’re also not merely restraining the wolf; this time it has properly been captured, the chains secured to a palm tree like the ones you see every single day around you. The pup howls, clearly more agitated this time, and you hush it gently, petting his fur while examining the restraints. “What keeps happening here, buddy?”

“Trusting the wrong people has consequences.”

You look up when you think you hear Joel’s voice from nearby, except it’s not him - but your father leaning against another palm tree, his face solemn as he looks back at you.

Your FATHER?

The wolf cub growls, and this time it’s not the usual angry growl of caution that he tends to make — it’s more like a snarl, layers of rage and destruction underneath. It yanks hard at the chain that has him tethered to the tree, sharp teeth biting at it until the chain breaks, and before you can do anything, it bolts over to where your father is standing, leaping up to attack him viciously.

You wake up screaming so loudly that you wake up all the others in the sleeping quarters, only calming down somewhat once Frankie physically shakes you out of it.

Going back to sleep turns out to be impossible, and it’s only after you try to skip sleep for the next two nights that your body finally caves in, knocking you out into a deep sleep, while you’re exhausted and scared of the dreams that might come back to you.

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Choices have never been an option with the syndicate. Either you do what you’re being told, or chances are that someone puts a bullet into you. That’s how you find yourself leading a team that is much bigger than you’re used to, not to mention with more challenging missions than you’ve done before.

Running drugs or arms in a city is pretty easy - even collecting it by force, or dealing with money. When raiding a building, there’s always a clear plan beforehand: assign people to specific spots, have a backup plan, keep the escape routes in mind, and make sure there’s enough ammunition.

Taking over a small FARC outpost is an entirely different thing. The unpredictability of the jungle, poorer communication methods, and with sightlines often being blocked, it’s not all that straightforward to take out a group of guerillas.

If it hadn’t been for Ezra’s training over the past years, you wouldn’t know where to start. But as always, you adjust - particularly with Frankie by your sight. The outpost gets conquered, another group of armed fighters elsewhere is taken down. But the guilt you were sort of able to remedy in Bogota and Cali, by helping to get some of the kids out, gnaws at you constantly here in the jungle. When twelve year olds are as heavily armed as you are, and even more eager to put a bullet in between your eyes, there’s not much of a chance to find some redemption.

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Just because Ezra is a good killer doesn’t mean he’s comfortable with it, you’ve noticed. You can see it eating away at him, just as it does with you. He still talks plenty to you about everything, but you can tell the isolation out here in the jungle is getting to him as well.

“I did a lot of work as a freelancer, Little Beast,” he replies when you ask him one day while you’re training with him. “I’m a floater, and some might say a merch, but I’m not merely a hit man. To be completely candid, this situation out here has… proven to disappoint.”

You want to ask him if he’s ever thought about getting out, but you don’t dare to - not with the lack of privacy around you. It’s not like you expect him to just offer you a way out; you know it’s not that simple, but throughout the years you’ve considered every possible option. Being here in the jungle has led you to consider defecting and joining FARC’s side, but you’re not naive enough to believe that will be a solution in the long run.

The one thing you’ve been able to keep secret out here is the money you’ve saved throughout the years. You carry it on you most days, as there is no proper hiding spot out here, carefully folded into a small pocket bible as that’s the one thing that won’t get searched during inspection.

Sometimes you try to remember the prayers your mother would say as she’d ask for help and protection. Even when you’re pretty sure none of her saints would listen to you, after everything you’ve done.

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Something snaps inside of you when you find Frankie doing coke.

He swears it’s not a common thing, that it has only happened ‘two or three times’, that one of the guys - that bastard David - just offered it to him to be able to make it through a mission he was dreading. You know Frankie has been struggling, has just as many nightmares as you do, and the complete lack of privacy here is making it so much harder to find moments to sneak away and find a moment of peace together. But you also know it always ends very badly when anyone starts doing coke to be able to make it through the days.

The next day it’s hard to control your anger - not at Francisco, but at everything regarding ACCU. You make him stay back in the camp, despite his protesting, leading your team on an afternoon attack, and the blind rage that takes hold of you in the heat of the battle is all consuming. It takes less time than expected to carry out the siege with your team, with more casualties due to wrongly estimating how many rebels you were attacking, and just when you shoot their leader you suddenly realize David is on your left, fighting someone else.

Fucking David who gave Francisco that coke.

You aim your gun without even thinking twice and shoot him straight through the head.

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Tovar is not amused when he finds out David didn’t make it. “He was one of our best. What the fuck happened?”

“I’m not sure. Didn’t have eyes on him.” You calmly look at him, giving him an opportunity to respond, and you know that you’re too good of a liar to give anything away. When he doesn’t say anything, you continue with the rest of your briefing. News spreads fast through the camp, and by the time you catch up with Frankie that evening, you can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows. Of course he does. He’s the only one you’ve never been able to lie to.

Ezra also doesn’t ask you what happened.

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When you were younger, running around with Joel and Jay in the neighborhood, your grandmother would always be the one to tell you boys to get home before dark. “It’s not that I don’t trust you - I don’t trust others to not get you into trouble,” she’d say.

You trust Frankie when he told you he wouldn’t take coke again. But now, you understand what your grandmother meant.

David’s buddy Arturo is the next person who offers some coke to Francisco, clearly hoping to make a deal. When Frankie turns it down, he keeps pushing, then eventually tries to persuade you.

You give it six days. Then, when you’re out in the field, you send him into a situation that you know is going to get him killed. He gets ambushed by two kids who take him out with their knives. Even though you could’ve taken down both of them with your rifle, you don’t shoot, and you see the relief in their eyes as they run away.

Arturo is still breathing when you check on him, but your own knife quickly deals with that before anyone else finds him.

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This time when you dream, you don’t see the wolf cub in chains. It’s you who is tied up, and after struggling in disoriented panic, you realize that you are the wolf. Thick dark fur where there should be your arms and legs, claws instead of your fingers, but the overwhelming feeling are the bindings wrapped around all of your limbs and the rest of your body - so thin that you can barely see the golden shimmer, but so sharp that it feels like it’s made from razors, pressing into your skin. 

You can’t scream - or howl -, you can’t even move. And all you see in front of you are Lorenzano and Tovar, each heavily armed, dragging your human body along with them up a mountain, leaving a trail of blood on the rocks.

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“I want them all DEAD.” Tovar nearly spits the words out at the group of you, banging his hand on the table with the map that has several FARC camps drawn onto it. “All of them. I don’t know how the fuck they got their hands on the product, but if it doesn’t all come back here…”

He’s terrifying like this, especially because you know he won’t hesitate to act on his threats. Somehow FARC had gotten a hold of internal intel, it seemed, not only being able to avoid being attacked for almost a week now but also having confiscated a massive amount of Lorenzano’s cocaine that was being packed and processed at a nearby facility.

The first two missions that week are done from the sky, and unsurprisingly Frankie is the co-pilot. You have a select team that goes up in the air with you and Ezra, two of your crew each armed with a M60E4 machine gun and one person with a Mk 153 SMAW launcher. It’s not your first time running an attack with this kind of artillery from the sky, but it still makes your stomach turn to see the damage that’s inflicted, the only small relief being that at least it’s not happening up close like would be the case with a ground attack.

On the third day, it’s back to the ground with your team, and you manage to overtake a building that holds at least half of the missing cocaine. At least half of the FARC fighters that are assassinated are still practically kids, who had been repackaging the drugs in the building. You and Frankie, as always, try to focus on the adults rather than the young teens, and at the end of the day you see Ezra’s expression is similar to how you feel: not just empty, but hollowed out.

Whether it’s the exhaustion setting in or bad strategizing, you’re not sure, but on day four the mission goes awry, and your team barely manages to pull through. Tovar is with the group though and aggressively moves in on the remaining cocaine that someone finds, but seeing how a large amount of it got shot up during the attack makes him absolutely furious. Eventually, he splits the team, sending half of your crew back to your camp with the repossessed drugs, while you have to do another sweep of the premises to make sure everything got covered.

It’s when Frankie pulls open a side door that seems to have been overlooked, and you step in with your gun ready, that you stumble into her. She’s young, younger than you, bruised and bloodied, but what stands out the most is that she’s pregnant - and very far along, it seems. It’s extremely unusual to come across someone in her position, here out in the jungle, because you all know that FARC does not exactly allow any of their fighters to start a family.

You see the hysteria on her face as she realizes that she’s been discovered, know she’s about to scream and fight, so you move on instinct, putting your gun behind you as you hush her and urge her to not yell. “You’re okay, you’re okay- I’m not gonna hurt you, alright? We’re not…”

She stares at the both of you with wide eyes as she nods, and you hear Frankie curse behind you. “Fuck, Santi, no – they’re gonna fucking see her, man. This place is going to get torched in five minutes from now.”

“Please, don’t hurt my baby, I’ll do anything.” She’s sobbing, on her knees now, and you turn to face Frankie as your head is working overtime.

“But we can’t– she’s pregnant,” you say to him, and he nods sadly, his jaw clenching as you can see him think. You curse, peering outside to check if anybody is watching, then close your eyes as you say a quick prayer. Please let this work. Not for me, but for her. “You need to get to the others and tell them it’s clear,” you tell Frankie as you nod to the front of the building. “I’ll get her out of here and to the back of the premises. Just tell them… something, okay? I’ll join you soon.”

“I don’t fucking like this.” But Frankie nods and disappears back outside, while you help the girl to her feet and explain to her how you’re gonna get her out.

“You can’t make a sound. You can’t trip. If they catch us, we’re both dead, okay?”

She nods as tears are rolling down her face, then tries to take a few deep breaths to calm herself. Meanwhile you listen closely to what’s happening outside, hear Frankie’s voice louder than usual - but not exaggerated - as he’s calling out to some of the team members. There’s no time to overthink matters, so you grab the young woman’s hand as you tug her outside, making sure to keep her covered with your own body as you rush her towards the trees that are at a small distance from the building.

Your heart is thumping so loudly that you feel like everybody in the vicinity must be able to hear it - but finally you get her there, pushing her behind a palm tree as you press the handle of a small knife in her hand. “Stay out of sight until we’re gone. Not a fucking sound,” you hiss at her, and she nods again at you, tears brimming in her eyes. She mouths a silent thank you before you turn around, and you don’t look back as you rush back to the property.

Somehow you manage to make it back to the front without raising any questions. Tovar is directing some people around, distributing gasoline, and mere minutes later the whole place is on fire. You’re exhausted, and not fully aware of how you all get back to the base camp, where you do a quick briefing with Ezra, then go find your sleeping spot in the tent to pass out even though it’s still early.

You wake up by Frankie sitting down on your makeshift bed, his hand on your back briefly as he hands you a plate with food. “Told them you got hurt getting back here and needed to rest,” he says, and you’re so grateful that you could almost cry. “Good job.”

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The next two days Ezra puts you, Frankie and the team on rest, giving you the opportunity to catch up on sleep and deal with the bruises and injuries most of you have. Then there is patrol duty, and you’re separated into pairs to guard between your camp and the other ACCU location. It’s hot, as always, but the vegetation mostly offers some shade which makes it more bearable.

Once you’re at least twenty minutes away from your camp, you tug Frankie behind a large tree and kiss him, unable to go on any longer without feeling him against you. You can feel him sigh in relief as he returns your kiss, his tongue eager as he takes over your kiss and presses you against the tree trunk.

“I thought this week was gonna fuckin’ kill us,” he whispers, and you nod as you brush his curls back, twirling a few around your index finger. You want him, in each and every way, but at the same time you feel so utterly drained that you can’t even imagine doing more than kissing and letting your hands roam for now - and you can tell he feels the same way.

You stay like that for a few minutes, just kissing each other, glad to have the slightest bit of time together. The tiredness ebbs away eventually, comforted by the touch of his body against yours, and just when you start to feel his hands drift lower, you realize that you need to stop this now before it gets to the point that neither of you can dial it down anymore.

“We gotta get going,” you make yourself say, and he groans softly, not happy about it, but he lets go after giving you one more deep kiss.

The path to the other camp is mostly easy to follow as you’ve walked it so many times before, a few tree trunks in the way here and there, and eventually the scenery around you changes, going up a hill to higher ground. Francisco talks about the helicopter maintenance that’s scheduled later this week, and you’re glad that they’re keen on keeping him in that aviation position - he really is good at it and still enjoying it, a welcome change from most of the field work.

You halt when you suddenly hear a sound that isn’t common around these parts, and you look around at you try to locate the sound. “Did you hear that?”

Frankie shakes his head. “What?”

“I heard a… Almost like some kind of howling.” You stop abruptly at the edge of the path, grabbing Frankie’s arm as you stare at the sight thirty, forty - maybe fifty - feet away from you, at the bottom of a steep slope. Surrounded by the lush rainforest vegetation stands a large adult wolf, eyes locked on you but not showing any signs of intending to approach you. You blink repeatedly, for a moment wondering if you’re making things up. “You see that?”

You stop abruptly at the edge of the path, grabbing Frankie’s arm as you stare at the sight 30 or maybe 50 feet away from you, at the bottom of a steep slope. Surrounded by the lush rainforest vegetation stands a large adult wolf, eyes locked on you but not showing any signs of intending to approach you. “You see that?”

Francisco gives you a questioning look, then follows your line of sight. “No. Somebody there?”

“The wolf, Frankie.” You have a hard time taking your eyes off the animal; you’ve never before seen one in real life. Meanwhile Frankie is looking at you as if you’ve grown three heads.

“A wo-… Santi, there are no wolves in Colombia.”

“Yes there are, look.”

Frankie smacks the back of his hand against your cheek, the frown on his face growing deeper. “Oye, pendejo. There’s nothing over there. You sure you’re okay?”

“No,” you say absentmindedly as the wolf tilts his head, and for a moment you wonder if it will attack you. Then you hear it; the sound of branches breaking behind the two of you, several pairs of footsteps, and you realize the wolf is not a threat but a warning. And for some reason you can’t explain, you just know that one of the guys behind you will be Tovar.

You take a deep breath as you take one more look at Frankie, drinking in every detail of his face and presence next to you. You wish that you could kiss him one more time, but you don’t dare to risk it.

“Something is very wrong, go back and find Ezra,” you say quietly, and you see his eyes widen as he reaches for his gun, but you stop him immediately as you shake your head. “No. You can’t win this, I’m so sorry - I love you.” Then you shove him, hard, so he trips over the edge and falls down the slope of dirt and vegetation, towards where you saw the wolf moments earlier.

You turn around while you pull out your spare gun, shooting down the guy closest to you without even blinking, then aim at a second and third person. You’re determined to do as much damage as possible to give Frankie a chance to get away.

Tovar’s eyes are dark and furious when they meet yours, and within moments he has overpowered you, dragging you away from the edge of the slope as he bangs the metal of his gun against your fingers. The pain is so sharp and hard that it makes you scream, and you drop your guns involuntarily, blindly reaching for your knife.

“You son of a bitch,” he hisses at you, but your fingers close around the hilt of your knife and you sink it into his leg with all of your strength, before you get hit over the head and lose consciousness.

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When you regain consciousness again, there’s arguing, loud banging against things, and yelling happening all around you. It takes effort to focus when you open your eyes, but finally you can make out some of the faces around you. Tovar, unsurprisingly, a gun in his hand as he’s leaning against the wall. Lorenzano, also armed. And surprisingly - Ezra. On the floor, half kneeling, and with Lorenzano’s gun pressed against his head.

“You made him this way!” Lorenzano practically spat at him, looking like he’s about to have an aneurism out of rage, but Ezra merely looks at him all calm. “You… you conspired. With those faggot boys. And now you’re trying to take me-…”

Tovar cleared his throat. “Us,” he said sharply.

“Yeah, and now you’re trying to take us down,” Lorenzano continued, moving the gun from Ezra’s temple to his forehead.

“I’m afraid I must interject. I did no such thing, boss. Neither did Sant–” Ezra’s words are cut off as Lorenzano hits him hard across his face, and you wince at the sound of what possibly is a broken nose.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”

Ezra takes a moment to compose himself, then shakes his head again, wincing as it seems to hurt him. “I am not a greedy man. You of all people should know that after all this time.”

“Then how did those fuckin commies get their hands on that stash?” Tovar speaks up, looking irritated. “They clearly had intel. Not to mention that ambush the other day.” He wanders over to you, and you groan as you try to sit up on the floor, but your hands are cuffed behind your back and your ankles also tied together. “And you. You let that whore escape the other day. Did you really think you could get away with that?”, he sneers. “Did you deliver Esdras’ messages to her or something?”

Your head is spinning as you’re trying to follow the conversation even though the pain is making it hard to listen and speak. “I didn’t do — I never tried anything like that,” you manage, trying to keep your eyes open. “Please. You have to believe me. Ezra never…”

Tovar grabs you by your neck, pressing his gun up against your chin. “We found your money stash,” he hisses. “Do you know how many of your comrades were eager to speak about the shit you pulled in Cali and Bogota? Letting people get away from raids while they should’ve been six feet under?”

You fight the urge to argue that it wasn’t just people, that it was mostly children and some women, because you know that’s not gonna help your case. “I’ve done as I’ve been told to do. All of my missions. Every single one of them was successful and profitable…,” you wince when you hear Tovar take the safety off the gun, and you close your eyes as you speak faster, trying to focus more on convincing him. “Ezra was just training me so I would be better working for the syndicate. That’s all, I swear. He never… we wouldn’t.”

“What about your faggot boyfriend, huh?”

“What about him, gentle man?” Ezra speaks up before you can even begin to think of an answer. “He didn’t do anything. Neither of them did, nor did I. If we had, you’d have concrete evidence, my friend.”

Tovar ignores his words, and you feel the gun barrel press even harder into your chin. “Where is he? That pilot boy.”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. Clearly that’s not a good enough answer, because a moment later you’re kicked in the stomach and collapse, gasping for air. “God, I swear, I don’t…”

“Are you religious, Santiago?” Lorenzano walks over to you with slow, menacing steps. “Because you’d better pray to your god that they won’t carry you out of here in a body bag.”

Nausea rolls around your stomach, and you brace yourself for what you know is going to be another kick or punch. You manage to hang in there at first, but when another blow lands on your head, your dizziness quickly overtakes you while the sound of an electric tool whizzes in the background. You hear Ezra scream as the smell of burnt flesh fills the room, and then everything goes dark again.

It’s so dark.

You’re not sure where you are, but you know you haven’t been here before. It doesn’t feel like a dream either, not with the briny ocean air that you smell all around you.

Painfully slowly the darkness begins to clear eventually, showing that you’re standing somewhere high up on a cliff. There’s a man near the end of the cliff, his back turned to you, dripping wet like he just got out of the ocean. 

It’s your brother Jay.

This is the first time you’ve ever seen him in a dream. You know it’s him, even from the back, and even if that looks nothing like how you remember him. When he turns around to face you, something wells inside of your chest and crowds your throat - tears of fear or relief, it’s hard to tell. You just know you’re exhausted, and in pain, and bleeding profusely.

Jay reaches out to you, seemingly offering something he’s holding, but when you take a step closer to him you see it move and realize it’s an animal. A snake, or - no, a sea serpent, biting its own tail, immersed in water that Jay is able to hold in his hands somehow. 

“Brother. It is time. Come join me.” You hear Jay say the words, even though his lips don’t move, and you notice that his eyes are swirls of blue and white. Like waves in the ocean, or a stormy sky.

You know this is Jay, but none of it feels like when you’ve been seeing Joel in your dreams. Something is seriously wrong. 

All of a sudden the choked up feeling in your throat turns into a sharp, blinding pain. It’s like someone jammed a knife into it, or a sword, that goes all the way up to the roof of your mouth. The taste of blood takes over your senses as an alarming amount of it begins to pool into your mouth.

“Were you not looking for me?” Jay’s voice grows louder while the serpent in his hands grows bigger, wriggling in the water. Again offers it to you, stepping even closer, and the ocean smell grows stronger. “Come. Take its tail out so he can breathe and live.”

The words are a bitter irony since you’re nearly choking on your own blood. You feel delirious, your head spinning as you’re already nauseous from the pain. Right when you’re about to reach out and grab the creature from Jay, you hear someone screaming behind you - loudly. 

It’s Frankie. And it’s not even the screams that you would normally hear in your dreams with Joel. This is much, much worse. It reminds you of raids gone wrong, sicarios going after you, and that time the both of you almost died falling off a roof. It’s the kind of screaming that’s full of despair instead of just fear, only rivaled in intensity by the sudden sound of a helicopter that you can’t see. It’s so foreign in this setting that it shakes you out of your delirium, just long enough to see three men step out from behind Jay’s back. 

Tovar. On the right. Teeth bared, the scar on his face looking an angry red color, a M16 in his hands that’s aimed at Jay’s head.

Lorenzano is standing behind Jay, the expression in his eyes dead and vacant as always, with a barely concealed sneer on his face. There’s a Beretta in his hand that’s aimed at the back of Jay’s head, and for some reason you know that if there’s anyone who wants to kill Jay - it’s gonna be Lorenzano.

“Little Beast.”

Your attention gets pulled to the left of your brother, where the third man stands: tall, a familiar shock of blond in his hair, green brown clothing. Ezra. Unarmed and chillingly calm in contrast to Lorenzano, Tovar and your brother, he extends his left hand to you.

"Every moment of our lives is filled with choices, Little Beast. Your choice and your consequence to bear."

“BROTHER.” Jay’s eyes flash in anger at you, the blue of his pupils turning almost black. “Do not ignore me. Come join me. Kill him as it has been prophesied in word and song.” 

Somehow you know ‘him’ isn’t about the men on either side of him. It’s about Lorenzano, still behind Jay, now staring at you as his finger rests against the trigger of his handgun. But before you can respond to Jay, something soft pushes firmly against your leg, followed by the low warning growl of your wolf cub.

You can feel the bindings around the cub before you even look down. It’s like they’re chaining you too, the pressure thin and sharp around your chest and legs, feeling both impossibly delicate and permanent in how strong they are. For a second it shifts your focus of pain away from the blade that’s still lodged into your throat and mouth, but as the wolf cub looks up at you, you can tell that you’re not going to be able to help him with these bindings - and it feels like the biggest failure.

The cub isn’t deterred though, his eyes locked on Jay as he grows loudly at him, and you wince when you feel the wolf’s claws scrape over your leg - you know it doesn’t intend to hurt you, it just wants to protect and be close to you. 

Jay furiously yells at you, the expression on his face asinine and enraged, and Lorenzano suddenly no longer standing behind him. So you don’t think - you just reach out for the hand Ezra is offering you, clutching on to him for dear life as you also swoop up the wolf pup in your other arm. 

The screams of your brother turn into the roaring sound of the ocean, overtaking all the other sounds around you, and you watch in horror as water starts pouring from his mouth in excessive amounts, in the same way you feel blood pouring from yours.

Jay’s fingers wrap themselves around each side of the serpent, scraping over its scales as he pulls and pulls and pulls with all his might. It doesn’t work initially, nor the second time - but the third time proves to be a charm at last. He forcefully rips the snake’s tail out of its mouth, releasing a loud hissing sound from the creature as it contorts and starts to grow bigger.

Several claps of thunder sound in the air at the same time, and as Ezra’s hand closes around yours and pulls you over to him, you see the assault weapon in Tovar’s hand has turned into a massive hammer.

When the hammer hits Jay, the flash of lightning on impact is almost blinding, cracking his skull, and Jay screams as he throws the serpent at his attacker. The creature immediately wraps itself around his calves, and when its teeth sink deep into Tovar’s leg, it pulls a scream from him that rivals all the other deafening sounds around you. 

Tovar stumbles away from Jay and the snake - four, five, six steps, and when his eyes meet yours, you feel another wave of nausea rolling through you.The rage in his eyes when he sees you with Ezra is terrifying, and his path abruptly changes and he moves towards you, one step followed by another. But as he takes one more step, he suddenly pales, grabbing at his leg where the serpent bit him moments earlier. 

The creature still has its fangs sunk into Tovar’s leg, acidic looking venom now dripping out of the wound, and it seems like all of a sudden Tovar realizes that this is not something he can beat. 

He is a tall, broad man, his right hand still gripping tight onto the large hammer - but when he falls, you can tell there is no way that man is getting up again. The massive hammer hits the ground, making everything shake as a crack forms into the ground, zipping from left to right as more additional cracks happen faster than you can even count.

Then, the tip of the cliff just… breaks off. A moment of complete destruction, happening much faster than seems possible, because within seconds it just plummets all the way down, dragging Tovar and Jay along with it. So fast that you don’t even hear them scream; the only sound you hear is the massive thud as everything crashes down into the ocean, being swallowed up whole by roaring waves that pull it down into its depths to never be seen again.

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This time you're not sure that you are even fully conscious when the room around you comes into focus for a moment. The air smells metallic, like blood and burnt things, and the floor around you is red.

"Little Beast," you hear Ezra gasp, and you want to look at him, but the darkness pulls you under again.

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Everything around you turns red. Dripping with blood, which then turns into bright orange flames, leaping up to the sky like it was their only purpose in life. But the wolf cub is now taller than you, wrapping its tail around you and Ezra as he tosses you onto his back.

You scramble to hold onto his fur as you grab Ezra’s shirt, making sure he won’t slide off. But then you see his right arm is missing, he’s bleeding out all over the three of you - and you don’t know what to do.

“It’s the consequences, Little Beast.” Ezra is calm as ever as he looks at you, the blond streak barely visible in his hair as it’s also covered in blood. “The choice was mine to make. Certain actions ferment the threat of appropriate reactions.”

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Somewhere there’s the sound of guns. There’s screaming, and then you hear a voice that you’d recognize anywhere. 

Francisco.

“Is that…” Ezra’s voice is shaking, unable to talk without wincing and gasping from pain. “Fuck. Frankie?”

More gunshots sound and just when the door is slammed open, you once again lose consciousness, your head hurting so much that you wonder if this is the end of it all.

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You’re cold.

Everything is white, but you can still smell the flames.

You know the fire is finally gone when the white begins to weigh heavy on you like snow.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When you open your eyes, brought back to consciousness by the sound of the wolf cub whimpering against you, there’s a large wolf standing across from you two. Not black, like your cub - brown, like the color of trees, and Frankie’s eyes and hair.

Francisco.

You black out again. 

When you finally come to your senses again and open your eyes, there’s a small arctic fox standing next to the brown wolf in the snow. It raises its head when it sees you move, then looks at something behind it in the distance.

It’s only when you see the bloody knife in the crisp snow in front of you that you realize it’s no longer lodged into your throat, and that there’s no blood pooling in your mouth anymore.

Heaven for the climate, hell for the company. 

“Frankie.” His name slips from your lips as you start to cry, and the wolf cub whines softly, now  curled up against your chest. His paws are bloody, and you’re not sure if it’s his blood or yours, nor where the large piece of bloody meat came from that’s staining the snow between you and the brown wolf who is still standing in front of you.

Brown fur.

Brown curls.

The tall woman in front of you is covered in brown furs, keeping her warm against the snow. She kneels down in front of you as she picks up the piece of bloody meat and puts it in her pocket. Then she reaches out of you, and as you feel the wet brush of her hand on your forehead, pushing back your hair, you feel yourself starting to lose consciousness again.

“Oh.” Her voice is light, tingles like icicles, and she laughs softly, sounding surprised. “Yes. You really are his.”

There’s even more blood than before. Your hands, all the way up your forearms. In your mouth. Hair.

Frankie’s face. His legs. So much blood, and he’s crying.

Someone’s dismembered arm lays on the floor, not too far away from you. You try to figure out if it’s yours, but everything hurts too much - you’re just not sure.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’re not sure how you make it to the truck, delirious from blood loss - you just know that somehow you do, Francisco’s hands on you almost the entire time. Once you’re in the vehicle, you promptly black out, coming to your senses later while Frankie drives the truck like he is possessed, several guns in the passenger seat next to him.

You want to ask him what happened - how he found you, and where Ezra is, but every time you think you’ve found the words to ask him that out loud, you black out again, and again, and again. Sometimes you wake up screaming, other times the pain throughout your entire body and head is almost too much to stand - but each and every time, there’s Frankie’s reassuring hand on you.

Somewhere between reality and dreams, or maybe even a worse place than that, you’re drowning in a river of foaming blood. The current is rough, making it incredibly hard to hold on anything  as you try to hold onto rocks, a tree trunk, and anything else that’s near you. 

The pain in your head is stabbing, overwhelming, and you can’t tell if the blood around you tastes the same as the blood in your mouth - whether it’s both yours, or if some of it is Frankie’s, or maybe even Ezra's.

After what seems like hours it starts to rain, while you’re still trying to stay afloat. At first you’re convinced it’s going to be the final push that’ll make you drown, but somehow as the rain mingles with the bloody river, it starts to dilute the thick red blood little by little, until eventually the blood has disappeared and there’s only water surrounding you, while the sun breaks through the clouds, warming your skin at last. You grit your teeth as you try to make it to the shore once again, and this time you’re successful, finally getting your body out of the water as you lay down into a wheat field, the wolf pup suddenly by your side.

You lurch up when the truck Frankie is driving comes to an abrupt stop, gasping for air as you’re jostled into consciousness for a moment. The wolf cub whines softly, licking your face, and you can’t figure out if you’re actually in the car or in that field next to the river. You hear voices somewhere nearby, and when somebody talks who is clearly not Frankie, the pup bolts up with his teeth bared.

That’s when you see the horse in front of you, just a few steps away, his dark brown coat looking almost black as it shines in the sun. You don’t understand how it’s possible, but you can swear that the horse smells like freshly baked bread and some grain alcohol - maybe it’s whiskey. The horse slowly starts to change shape, and eventually looks like a man wearing yellow aviators and tight jeans, standing there with a cocked hip and an expression somewhere in between annoyance and concern.

“Peña,” you hear Frankie say, but some part of your brain struggles to accept that name for the man. 

“Freyr,” you mutter as you close your eyes again, burying your face against the soft fur of the wolf cub curled up against you. You’ve seen that man before, you just don’t remember where. Bogota? Medellin? Maybe talking to Ezra? Fuck - Ezra. Where is he? Is he still alive? “Esdr-...Tyr.” Your head hurts so much that it feels like it’s going to explode.

“Santiago. You’re going to be okay.” 

Your eyes fly open when you recognize Joel’s voice, so nearby that for a moment it feels like he is right next to you. Until everything goes black again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Every time you dream of Joel, you ask him.

Every time you ask him, he has no answer for you.

“He’s not here, Santiago.”

“Please. You must be able to find out somehow.”

“I don’t know where Esdras is, hermano.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The medication that Javier and Frankie got for you makes it hard to focus on anything, but at least it keeps the pain away. It makes the nightmares worse though, so you find yourself desperately trying to stay awake. 

This is what you understand: 

You’re at the El Dorado airport in Bogota, with Francisco and Javier Peña, who is a DEA agent. The three of you are getting on a small plane that’s headed to the United States, but you’re not quite sure where. At some point, you’ll be testifying anonymously about Lorenzano, Tovar and the rest of the syndicate.

“Ezra set this up a year ago,” Javier tells the two of you as he hands you each a passport and some paperwork. “Residency and work permits. The rest will come.” 

Francisco is staring at him, looking just as confused as you are feeling. “I don’t understand.”

“Ezra is an American citizen. Was.” Javier hesitates, and you can tell by his expression that the man genuinely doesn’t seem to know whether Ezra is still alive as he looks at you. “When Frankie found you two… well. He should tell you about that some time. But Ezra sent him to me, so I got things moving. Most of this was already set up.” 

“Why?”, you manage to ask, and Javier sighs as he takes his yellow aviators off.

“Insurance policy. I know Ezra wanted out, but he didn’t quite seem to think that he would survive that,” he then says. “He figured that if shit hit the fan, at least you two could get out and start over.”

You close your eyes, trying to process the words, but it’s impossible to understand. The idea that Ezra is probably dead is just as unbearable as the thought of what state he might be in if he is still alive. 

“Did he lose his arm?”, you ask, and you don’t recognize your own voice - but you can tell the words sound slightly hysterical. “Frankie, where…”

“You should rest. Both of you,” Javier gently but firmly interrupts you, then gives you some pills and a bottle of water. “These will help. You’re safe for now.”

The woman, Lydia, apologizes for the small apartment, saying that’s all she was able to arrange on such short notice. Javier and Francisco assure her it’s perfectly fine, and you can only nod, your tongue and brain still heavy from the medications.

Once Javier had checked all the entrances and exits, feeling good about how secure it is, he leaves you and Frankie alone, saying something about Lydia picking up groceries and clothes for you soon. Only when he’s gone, you’re able to take in the apartment. Lydia may have apologized for its size, but to you it feels like a palace - and you can tell by the expression on Frankie’s face that he feels the same way.

Somehow it reminds you of your childhood home, and when you two sit down at the small kitchen table, you suddenly don’t feel twenty-two anymore but only ten years old at the most. You’ve never had someone give you a place to call home, even if it would be temporary. Hell, you’re never even been in a place that had locks and was intended for only you and Frankie, with exception of that one motel night a long time ago. 

You watch Frankie get up from the table and grab two glasses, filling them from a bottle of water in the fridge - the only thing that’s in there. As you drink from it, you take in his appearance. He looks as exhausted as you feel, some cuts and bruises on him, but not as many as you have fortunately.

He lets you look at him, the soft smile on his face indicating he understands you’re still loopy from the drugs, then touches your hand softly as he gets up. “This looks nice,” he says, gesturing around him, and you laugh without meaning to - because if there’s one thing Frankie normally doesn’t do, it’s small talk.

“Shut up, pendejo,” he says as he rolls his eyes at you, but you can tell that he doesn’t mean it. “I just mean - well, this is fucking huge.”

You shower together, mostly because you can’t stand up straight without swaying, but you realize that you quite like it. The water is hot and plentiful, neither of you having soap or anything, but just washing the dirt off your skin already feels like a blessing.

“I can walk,” you object when he seems inclined to help you to the bedroom, and you do so, ignoring when you almost fall twice. The sheets seem old but are so soft against your bare skin, and you drift off so fast while you hear Frankie moving around and letting someone inside the apartment. When he returns, it’s with a small pile of clothes and a bag with deliciously smelling food.

You’re both starving and eat mostly in silence, still trying to understand what happened in the past forty eight hours. When your eyes become too heavy, you curl up under the sheets and breathe a sigh of relief when Frankie does so as well. His naked body is so warm against yours as he wraps an arm around you, laying against your back, and you both fall asleep this way.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“America.” A smile tugs at Joel’s lips, and for a moment you’re not sure if you are actually dreaming. Everything indicates that you are, except for the way Joel looks. There is no decaying half to his face, or his body - he’s all in one piece, standing in front of you. Even looking relaxed, which is not exactly a characteristic you associate with him. 

There are no dead bodies anywhere near the two of you. 

Nobody is bleeding out on the ground, or screaming. 

It should be comforting, a relief, but after so many years of always having dreamt of Joel one way, your brain is struggling to understand what’s happening.

“Are you okay?”, you ask Joel, feeling stupid asking the question when he’s clearly looking better than he has before. “I mean…”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Santiago.” The expression on Joel’s face softens further, looking almost wistful, and suddenly you know with alarming clarity that this is the last time you’re going to be dreaming about him like this. “You got out.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The footsteps down the hallway are firm and moving closer to the room where you and Frankie are seated. He gives you a short nod as you both get up from the chairs, standing straight as you wait for the door to swing open.

A tall blond man dressed in uniform enters the room, and you can tell that it takes him just a second to size up the two of you - make a quick judgment about what he sees too, probably. 

He closes the door behind him, then walks over to shake your hands briefly. He gestures at the chairs you were seated earlier as he takes a seat of his own, behind the desk.

“Mr. Garcia, Mr. Morales. My name is Captain William Miller. What can I do for you?”

A/N II: I need to give a nod to @oliveksmoked’s incredible 'Nothing That We Need' (Narcos x Supernatural with Javi x OFC) and @ohforficsake’s The Margay' (Frankie x Audrey, POC OFC) which ended up influencing this fic a lot, and are both absolute must reads. Finally, thank you to @sin-djarin @lotusbxtch @qveerthe0ry @mountainsandmayhem and @magpiepills for all the support and feedback (and letting me cry when I needed to for many reasons). Dividers by @saradika!

Here’s a little overview of Santi + the PPCU characters in this fic, plus and the Norse Gods that Erin assigned to them. Click on their names to go read the other Frith stories written by some amazing writers! @perotovar, thank you so much once again for organizing this incredible event, love you so much!

Santiago Garcia → Fenrir. Most famous of all the wolves in Norse Mythology, bringer of Ragnarok a.k.a. the end of the world. Joel Miller/Santi’s brother → Hel. Goddess of death and guide to the underworld.  Jay/Santi’s (oldest) brother -> Jormungand. The serpent banished to the ocean, will rise at the end of the world. 

Francisco Morales → Skadi. Goddess of winter, skiing, bow-hunting, and mountains. Ezra / Esrads → Týr. God of victory, law, and justice.

Maxwell Lord/Lorenzano → Odin. The All-Father. God of wisdom, magic, war, death and trickery. Pero Tovar → Thor. God of thunder, lightning and the protection of humankind. Max Phillips/Santi’s father → Loki. The Trickster God of mischief and chaos. Javier Peña → Freyr. God of fertility, harvests, and peace. Rules over weather.

main masterlist | follow @longlongtime-updates for updates

[galaxymagitech]

16, 18, and 26 for dick grayson!!

For this ask game!

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character? Instead of playing the "what's the worst ship you can think of" game (because honestly, that's no fun, and other people are probably better at it than I am), I'll just give a ship I simply dislike for weird reasons: Dick Grayson/Raven.

I just...don't like it. It bothers me, but I don't really understand why. I do like both characters. I watched Teen Titans (2003) and thought Robin and Raven were both awesome. I've read comics where they've interacted. But for some reason, that ship just rubs me the wrong way. I see 0 chemistry there and have 0 interest. And I have no inclination to read anything with that ship highly present. I don't have a good reason for disliking this ship, though, so it's kind of funny.

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

From both sides? Dick and Tim. Because Dick isn't a perfect big brother to Tim, but he clearly loves him, and Tim clearly knows it. Even after the firing incident, Tim and Dick still love each other and their relationship really does recover. Even if you think Tim was lying with the whole "you're my brother, of course you'd catch me," they're working together with no problems and looking out for one another in late Post-Crisis (I specifically noticed this in Black Mirror but there are probably other examples). They did have a fight, and they were very upset, but they managed to recover from that.

There's also, I think, a healthy amount of respect, which is difficult in sibling relationships. Tim absolutely hero worships Dick, but he's still able to stand up to him and call him out when he's worried. And Dick tries to give Tim guidance, but he really trusts Tim to make the right decisions in the end, such as when Tim got it in his head that he was going to try to resurrect his loved ones with a Lazarus Pit.

From Dick's side? Dick and Damian. Because Dick really, really dislikes Damian at the start. He's annoyed by his existence and thinks Damian is a brat. He certainly doesn't want to have to take care of him, on the field or off it. But he puts all of that aside, because Damian is his brother and he has to help him. Slowly, Dick is both able get Damian to trust him (an impressive feat!) and begins to love the little gremlin. At first, though? Dick is able to be a loving, supportive guardian to a kid he genuinely disliked. "We were the best" doesn't happen automatically, and it's all the more impressive for that.

26. What's something the character has done you can't get over? Be it something funny, bad, good, serious, whatever?

It's okay, Dick. You're an adult. You can curse.

(I write him as cursing, but this is just...so funny. It will always stick with me.)

[befemininenow]

Read this if you're interested in preserving anything feminization or femme related!

With the inevitable ban of TikTok and the elimination of LGBTQ+ protection on Meta apps like Facebook and Instagram, never mind the awful moderation on Twitter, there's really not much sites where LGBTQ+ people can express themselves without being harassed by anyone hateful. Bluesky is an alternative that seems ethical. YouTube is good to use for actual feminization tutorials. As much as I despise the API decision, Reddit is one of the few sites where trans spaces have really good moderation and has a lot of useful info regarding transition. It's only a matter of time before these sites go down the gutter. That includes Tumblr.

Speaking of which, Tumblr seems to be a safe space for a lot of us. Unfortunately, a lot of blogs have also been target of termination and their posts have been nuked, even with reblogs and shares. Since feminization captions seem to be one of the more difficult pieces of NSFW posts to preserve, there's only one thing you can do continue that scene: repost.

While we have survived constant purges and flagging in the past, the future of feminization blogs and captions is looking more bleak as we speak. Sure, a lot of p0rn blogs have been deleted, but even the more SFW blogs like VikkiPNK have faced termination, probably due to so much flagging. It was so bad, I got instantly flagged 8 times myself! (plus a "copyright" strike)

So how can you help with this problem? Reblog your favorite captions! Hell, save all your favorite captions in a folder and repost them here or outside Tumblr in case the original gets deleted! It doesn't even have to be my captions. It can be another caption creator or some old legacy creator that no longer exists. Some of us don't even have Twitter or other sites, yet I see some of my captions being posted there. It's a sign of relief and I lowkey do get happy when I see other blogs sharing my posts.

And while we're at it, save your favorite TikTok videos as well! A lot of feminization caption creators use TikTok to make their captions and it will be a huge loss for a lot of them. The site is closing this Sunday and unless you live outside the US, it will be gone for good. You will see less Brooke Monk, Tate McRae, Neekolul, Pamibabyy, Peachybunn, and other creators, so save those too!

If you reached this far, thank you for reading and please reblog this post so that we can preserve as many captions for years to come!