#and for the first five-six hours i was fully immune. i was like oh my god his sob story is boring actually. disappointing.

[pummelingbat]

<- guy who's probably going to start drawing Astarion, unfortunately

[oh-for-fic-sake]

A Climb Chapter Three

Masterlist

This time Clark isn't going to let you get off with a warning hell bent on giving you a punishment you wont forget... but with you bent over just he couldn't help himself.

Warnings: Adult situations 18+, Spanking, Smut, Daddy kink, Size kink, dirty talk, humiliation

A/n: so been working on this for a while, got a few more things I’m writing atm which should hopefully be finished soon, i do hope you enjoy xx... P.S Its another long boi...sorry xx

dividers by @writeyourmindaway​

Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters​ @magdelen69​ @iloveyouyen​

A Climb Chapter Three

Clark watched as you made your way across the office coffee in each hand and a paper tucked under your arm. You smiled placing his coffee beside him. It was one week since the whole superman discipline fiasco and you and Clark was officially a couple. He smiled sweetly thanking you then peered uneasy into the cup hoping it wasn't another ginger spice crappy frappie thing.

"What is it today then?" Looking at the frothy milk already pulling a face at it you laughed at his expression then leant on his desk.

"Coconut latte, honestly Clark you haven't even tried it yet, broaden your horizons live a little, you can't just stick to the same boring black coffee every single day... Go on try it its sweet just like you, I promise you'll like it." He scrunched his nose, coconut? In milk and coffee? He looked at you as you sipped your own drink.

"I happen to like black coffee... But you did buy it so I might as well try it...I'd hate for you to waste your money" he said taking a hesitant sip as Lois came over eyeing you both curiously, you mouthed coconut to her and she shook her head.

"You trying to get him on fancy coffee? Not sure if that will work but I admire your efforts" you both watched as Clark hummed and nodded before taking a second sip. You smiled laughing as he refused to put the cup down taking slow drags from it now and then.

"See I told you~" you said in a sing song voice. Then placed the paper down beside you on the desk.

"Soo whats on the agenda for today then girls and boys?" Lois shook her head at your antics, having you around the office was effectively having a child in the building. A fully grown 5ft fuck all fearless, sneaky child, which is exactly why she needed you ,you were to all intents and purposes a fucking ninja...Or at least you should have been.

"Well y/n I was hoping I could steal you from Clark for a while?" You tilted your head at her

"Define a while?"

"Day or two? I need someone who will keep up with me." You mulled it over taking another sip ,that normally meant she was either doing something she shouldn't and needs a photographer she could trust or needed you to do some behind the scenes acrobatic snooping. You ignored the way Clark's eyes wandered over the two of you carefully.

"What's the story?" Her face lit up as you asked

"Got a lead on that chemical leak down by the Lex corp labs, its causing symptoms similar to the victims of nuclear radiation, immunity failure, it hasn't killed anyone...Yet anyway, but there are fourteen people hospitalized and they are trying to white wash it as some industrial strength cleaning solution accident." You tilted your head at her nodding slowly sounds like a major cock up on the lab's part.

"Yep fine, you want me to get my stuff now or-" you was interrupted by Clark placing a hand on your thigh squeezing the strength shocked you as he pinned you to the desk you were seated on.

"No" both you and Lois looked at him and started speaking first

"What? Clark its fine she will be with me" she said you continued

"Yeah it will be okay I'm not even leaving the city this time" he stood still holding your thigh under his heavy palm squeezing it tightly making you wince a little then released it, he moved standing close shielding you from Lois slightly puffing out his chest looking down at you making you gulp a little as your clit tingled at his imposing stance you wet your lips a little. He tilted his head looking sternly at you.

"I said no,Love your not going running in to god knows what. We don't even know what that stuff is?" He added waving his hand around .You grit your teeth and pushed him back a little you and stood at your full height jabbing him in the chest, then shook out your finger as it had hurt.

"Well that's the point of going isn't it you know investigating what it is? Look I know your worried but if they are doing some freaky chemical testing shit then its dangerous! Besides I'm just going to take photos of the facility. Nothing will happen we will be extra careful wont we Lois?"

"Of course we will just photos and statements that's all promise" she backed you up he looked between the two of you and sighed.

"Lois no that place is to dangerous, the things they have there-" he caught himself but Lois didn't click ...Or really listen to him, it was a story. Her story you hesitated.  At his statement sparing Lois a glance.

"Clark people have a right to know if Lex corp are doing Illegal testing!" he grunted ignoring her turning to you pointing at you

"I said no...And I mean it, I'm not playing around you know what will happen if you ignore me, he is still on your tail I will find out" you took a step back at his severe look and reluctantly nodded he was serious, you pivoted to Lois giving a apologetic look.

"Lois ...It does sound a bit iffy...Lets look for another story from Perry" you winked at her discreetly nodding to the elevators she huffed turning in a strop making her way across the office, you sighed as Clark sat down at his desk rolling his eyes.

"Great now shes in a mood"he sighed

"She'll get over it....Thank you for dropping it, I love you" you froze insides twisting with guilt already as he pulled you down to his face giving you a kiss you smiled at him sweetly before looking away towards Lois and grimanced watching her stalk towards the elevators all but crushing the buttons

"I'll go talk to her" he hummed in agreement

"Okay be safe love" looking back to his screen and beginning to type his own article as you made your way to her sneakily still having your bag over your shoulder and quickly made it to the elevator slipping in beside Lois.

Once outside you sighed walking along side Lois she looked up at you smirking, you both high fived.

"Soo you and Clark huh? Never got the full story on how that finally happen?"You blushed not sure what to say not like you could say superman spanked you like a child for climbing buildings then delivered you to Clark for another scolding.

"We err yeah we argued over something silly and he sort of screamed he loved me, not exactly romantic but that was it" she smiled nodding.

"Doesn't surprise me in the slightest, he has had his eye on your for a while, been telling him for months to ask you out he was to shy." You laughed yes that sounded like him. You did feel a little uncomfortable after all Lois was his ex. She gave you a side glance

"What did he mean back then in the office?" You flushed chuckling

"Oh that who knows with him I mean come on this is Clark hes a bit backwards isn't he?" She couldn't argue there then it got quiet noticing your mood change and sighed she wasn't going to let this cause a rift between you both, she'd been working with you for nearly six years you were friends.

"I don't mind you know, it didn't work out between Clark and I, I wish it had but it just didn't, honestly I knew he liked you after he started working with you,  when we was still together, I could feel it, that's why I ended it... I wasn't the one he truly wanted, I was just the first he opened up to sometimes I think he just felt obligated to be with me but if you hurt him you'll have me on your case you got that?" You nodded smiling at her softly.

"Thank you, I was afraid that you wouldn't like me anymore that's why I've avoided you a bit." she laughed and pushed you a bit making you weave around a small group of businessmen  then come back to her side.

"Course not don't be stupid, by the way you do know were sneaking in don't you?" You grinned waving your slightly smaller camera

"Why do you think I've got this bad boy? and I brought my new go pro , got this new one better pixels and its more stable just have to change shoes when we get there trainers are in my bag. So what do you think it is? Some poison? Or nuclear type thing?" She hummed

"Always prepared huh? And I'm not certain but it could be a weapon? Apparently Lex corp has been trying to get government contracts for military imports and exports, I think it was a a chemical weapon test gone south."

"Military? Was they approved?" She shook her head stopping beside you

"No it was denied and its the fifth time this year they seem desperate and I think its because they already have weapons and are testing them but technically until they get the contracts what they have been doing is illegal. It could ruin the whole Luthor name, tear down their empire." you followed her to the cab she had waved down both jumping in the back she told the driver the destination.

It took just over half an hour to reach the labs, as always you had gotten out and walked the last few minutes. you used your cameras zoom using it as binoculars.

"Red, we got a problem. Security and they are packing some serious heat.... But look that's the one right? with the big tube tent thingy?" she huffed hands on hips thinking, you used the time to snap some photos capturing some shots of the armed security, you noticed they gave the sight of the incident a wide birth veering around it on every pass,you cursed as two stopped spotting you, you quickly shifted slightly.

"Pose pose!! quickly!!" she did as she was told holding her hands up and popping her hip out to the side and you snapped another photo you noticed the security shake heads walking away.

"That's it done" she dropped her hands it was a trick you had both developed use Instagram like poses for cover you nodded to the building.

"You go cause a fuss I will use the distraction to get in, if you get turned away go wait where we got out of the cab try to hold out for as long as you can okay? I will be as quick as I can if I'm not out in thirty minutes go home." she looked hesitant as you crouched finishing swapping your shoes for trainers tightening your laces double knotting them tucking the ends in.

"Leave? you want me to leave you there?"

"Yeah don't worry I will get out I always do but if things go south I don't want to worry about you to, no offense but your not as fast as me" you said taking a small  pouch from your bag clipping it to a belt loop on your trousers passing her your satchel tucking your camera in to your pouch then attaching the go pro to your head, it was smaller then your other one and this one saved your live stream to the cloud, so even if you lost dropped or broke it the film was intact.

"Okay if your sure.. Just please be careful I don't think Clark would ever forgive me if you got hurt" you nodded to her

"I'm not going to get hurt now go, wait until I'm at that fence at the bottom" she nodded watching you jog to the very far fence, you turned back looking at her nodding watching as she approached the security gate.

You turned the corner the finding a weak spot in the fence , it was a basic chain link one that you could easily roll up, your guess is they were trying to look unassuming. You didn't bother taking a photo you could pull stills from the go-pro footage. The security cameras moved in slow sweeping motion's across the open space you counted there was a thirty second interval that was clear as they moved, thirty seconds didn't seem much but you would be amazed what you could achieve in that time you planned your route, make it to the large truck parked half way across the concrete then a run jump and wall climb and you’d be on the first roof out of view of the cctv using the electricity box to spring off.

You took a deep breath then moved sliding under the chain link fence and rushed tucking below the truck, taking a deep breath as the adrenaline kicked in, peeking as the cameras rotated then made your move again sprinting and using the electricity box to propel yourself to the roof grunting as you held the edge quickly scrabbling your feet and rolling just in time. Taking a moment you calmed your breathing and got up crouching looking left and right seeing a durable looking gutter, it was close to the edge and you'd be in plain sight for the climb, but Lois was down there being Lois so you was certain no one would see you.

You had to trust she would keep them occupied, grabbing the gutters attachments you planted your feet either side cupping your hands behind the pipe, the trick was to keep a steady rhythm you made the climb breathing steady until you reached the top a little out of breath and stood, no one of ground level would see you from here, this roofs height was almost at three stories. Peering over the top you saw the guards watching as Lois made her way down the side of the fence going to the meeting spot.

You stood back slowly looking around there was a small hatch that looked like a maintenance shaft that would be your entry point then. Walking towards it you pried it open shimmying down inside there was a small ladder and a platform at the bottom attached to a cat walk around the room. You crouched on the platform looking over the huge space. One huge room that looked almost like a warehouse apart from plastic dividers cutting it into smaller cubicles each looked like mini science labs various apparatus and small machines in each then there was a wall with huge glass window inside two massive industrial sized vats at the other end with pipes feeding whatever it was holding into a few smaller canisters, people with full on hazmat suits and bubble masks entered and left via a decontamination chamber as other people walked around transporting the smaller canisters in glass boxes on trolleys taking out your camera you snapped shots of the room the zoom picked up more then your go-pro ever could.

You pointed the camera zooming on various items you did a slow walk round getting close ups of the activity in and around the place, most of the stuff looked.... Medical? For some reason, vials and syringes and drip feeders that type of stuff. Finally you found what you was looking for zooming in on a large board that has diagrams all across it depicting the vats and smaller containers, but couldn't make out any writing. Sighing you crouched speed walking down the cat walk finding a spot with a better view from here you could work out what it says....Theralizumab (tgn1412) what the fuck was that? A drug or something? For some reason it sounded familiar but you couldn't place it. You leaned closer taking more photos of the table beside it all showing different scientific calculations and symbols then quietly spelt the main name out loud for your go pro as a back up.

You froze and crouched lower as a gun wielding guard came in  Through a side door looking around talking on the phone as he made for the stairs across from you. Shit. You had to get out, deciding to call it quits you retraced your steps. Once you made it to the ladder you quickly climbed it making it to the roof safe and sound, you peaked over the to where the groups of guards had been but they were scattered about patrolling again you swore. Things are definitely turning south. You must have spent longer looking around than you thought. You took a deep breath before slipping down the gutter aiming to leave the way you came. As if things couldn't get worse the truck was gone. You would be spotted before you got out hearing a voice from above your stomach dropped quickly you dived against the wall.

"There’s no one here, yes I've looked , nothing on the cat walk or roof.... Jerry is just seeing things...... well he's been paranoid since the explosion.... yes well he should suck it up think himself lucky......pfft that's what he's saying he wasn't anywhere near it to be hit with this shit......no point, looking at what it did to those in England they will probably be dead in a few days, wouldn't surprise me if he let em to cover up........ I will check now yes alright be down in a minute." You held your breath as you heard the foot steps moving closer your heart was trying to jump out of your chest. He would see you. He would see you and shoot you and you'd die, because he would shoot you and you'd be dead. You panicked looking for somewhere to hide as he got closer to the edge.

"Fuck! Show me your hands!" He shouted you rolled away and made a break for it as he fumbled with his gun aiming it at you firing. He missed hitting the roof by your feet making the gravel spray up hitting your ankles making you hiss,your heart skipped a beat as you closed your eyes ducking and screaming diving in a zigzag towards the edge with every intention of throwing your self off it was only one story hopefully you’d make it. You flinched hearing him run down the length of the building you held your breath waiting to feel a spray of bullets  as you neared the edge. But there wasn't any. just a sudden gust of air a warmth at your back you flinched closing your eyes fearing the worst as someone grabbed your waist quickly tugging you towards them, then they seemed to jump your feet left the ground and you grabbed at the arm in shock opening your eyes the saw a flick of red before closing them again as you was lurched through the air at speed landing seconds later a few blocks away at ground level next to a sheepish looking Lois.

"Lois? Wha-" before you could finish you was spun around your wrist was held in a tight grip coming face to face with the man of steel and for the first time you was happy to see him, before you could think you hugged him shaking from fear and adrenaline he sighed tucking an arm around you patting your back as the shock of what happened washed over you in nauseating waves. A few tears escaped, you were shot at, you could have died.

"Fuck ,thank you, thank you so much , if you hadn’t- I'd be....I thought I was a goner" he sighed ruffling your hair holding you as you shook, no matter how angry he was he couldn't help take a few moments to help settle you down rubbing your back slowly as you sobbed quietly you were so frightened.

"Shh it's okay...I've got you...your okay" you cried into him missing the looks shared over your head between him and Lois. She looked guilty, and he was fucking pissed. Eventually you calmed down enough for him to get through to you and he pulled you back at arms length, you tried wriggling away wiping your eyes and sniffing back your last whimpers, he growled when you tried twisting away. Oh hell no.

He wasn't letting you get away from him not after that major fuck up moving his hand he gripped you by the scruff of your shirt. You flinched and snapped your gaze up. Oh shit. His face was set in a deep frown, jaw twitching. He was angry, furious. Double shit.

"What have I told you?! About doing stupid things like that?!" He shook you a bit by your shirt making you wince closing your eyes pretending he wasn't there.

"Don’t you pretend to ignore me!" He wasn’t playing ball and instead captured your chin in his other hand.

"Y/n what did I say?...Look at me when I'm talking to you....Right now or so help me god!....That’s better....Was last time not enough To deter you?" Your eyes bulged as you used your hands to cover your back end. Lois raised an eyebrow at your reaction going to ask but was silenced with a look from Clark, he wasn't happy with either of them. He trusted her! Trusted you to both do the right thing, the safe thing and leave this story alone, at that point he wasn't sure who he was more angry at. Lois for encouraging you, or you for actually going through with it!.

"No! I mean yes! I don't know!! it was work their doing something bad!! like really reeaallly bad! I'm sorry please don't!" He growled

"Sorry isn't good enough!!" you squeaked at him trying to twist from him but he juts locked a hand on one of your biceps makeing to spin you around.

"No! don't nononono! please not here pleaseplease, I get it I'll be good, I wont make a fuss just not infront of her please!" you begged and he clenched his jaw looking from you to Lois who was confused by your desperate display

"y/n wha?" she didn't get to finish as her question was answered as you was spun round to face her yelping and thrashing as he moved landed a harsh smack you your lower thigh making you cry out trying to tuck yourself away from him moving your free hand around trying to cover yourself flushing in humiliation as Lois' jaw dropped. You moved your hand across yourself trying to save your ass but he just worked around it with ease ,finally having enough he switched his grip capturing both wrists behind you as you tried spinning back round and dodging at the same time tears already falling from the harsh impacts of his hand all but branding your ass.

"No nonono stop! I'm sorry I'm sorry please

""You want me to drop your jeans? No? Well stop wriggling then!.... You are unbelievable!...Three times! This makes t hree times now I've had to Intervene! I thought your last spanking would have knocked some sense into you Young lady! But then again Clark let you get away with it last time didn't he?" You cried as this time he had put more force behind each swing leaving a much deeper burn then last time tears streamed down your face and you started sobbing as he carried on. He meant it.

"Im sorry ple-please stoooop" he continued letting you feel his displeasure at you landing heavier blows you could tell he wanted to strike you harder in the way his hand trembled with each impact, the rougher treatment and scolding made you soak your panties almost instantly, the humiliation of Lois watching may have had something to do with it as well.  You flushed in humiliation happy that you was in black jeans, had you been in anything else he and Lois would have seen your shame. You wriggled yelping between sobs as he bruised your back side adding five more in quick succession then stopped. It had felt like a life time but in reality was only a minute two at most. You hiccuped rubbing your eyes as he stood there still glareing at you before huffing.

"What am I going to do with you? Is this going to be a weekly occurrence now?" You sniffed trying to compose yourself shaking your head. No. He released your wrists but you didn't pull away wiping your nose on your sleeve feeling humiliated, belittled and most dreadfully of all aroused. You flushed a deep red hanging your head in shame, god knows what Lois must think watching you get man handled like that, watching you be reduced to tears in seconds.

"I don't need to tell you how stupid that was do I?" You whined and shook your head again at him, feeling his eyes boring into your head.

"And you can rest assured that the only reason I'm letting you off so lightly is because I'm letting your boyfriend deal with you this time! I'm very disappointed in you, I don't think he will be very happy I doubt he let you come out here, did he know?" you hung your head somehow Hearing him say he's disappointed in you almost felt as bad as his spanking and you didn't know why, you shivered at the thought of Clark finding out.

"Well?" He probed Lois gave him a look, you didn't know yet? but then by that display she hardly thought you spent a lot of time facing him, by the looks of it you spent your time across his knee.

"No, well maybe, he knew we wanted to but we said we wouldn't...." he sighed at you

"Well he will be finding out" you panicked shaking your head

"No! don’t tell him! I know I did wrong but he will be so angry!!" He ignored you fixing you both with a firm gaze.

"You will both drop the story, we are already on it and don't need people panicking over it, your leads dried up am I clear?" You heard Lois agree still stunned by what she had just witnessed he tugged your head up to face him seeing nothing but a blur through your tears.

"Y/n I said am I clear?" You nodded before answering weakly without thinking

"Yes sir" mortified as the words slipped out before you could catch them

"Good now off you go...Back to your office both of you" he said releasing you ,you quickly made your way past him hissing as your tender muscles pulled, they was already bruising. You moved scampering quicker as he left you with one last parting smack on your rear as you scuttled past him to embarrassed to look up as Lois walked by your side quietly you flinched as you heard him take off the echoing sound as he broke the sound barrier, knowing he was going to go tell on you. Lois closed the gap resting her hand on your arm lightly as you sniffled she held out your bag for you, you took it quietly.

"A-are you okay?" You nodded a little

"Yeah just embarrassed I never wanted anyone to see that, you probably think I'm stupid" she smiled a little

"I'll admit I've never seen him do anything like that before, sounds like you have tho" you sucked in a deep breath as your bottom stung and throbbed you could just feel the ache of a bruise now forming.

"Yer tha-thats the second time, first was longer but that was worse.... way worse and now I'm gonna have to face Clark, hes going to spank me to,I don't think I can handle two, but if I don't go then I will be in worse trouble." You trembled a little

"So Clark spanks you to?" She asked realizing you didn't know yet. You nodded then shook your head

"No, yes I mean not yet but only cos of how red my ass was when I got to his apartment... Superman found me climbing he caught me and spanked me then sent me to Clark... That’s when we argued and got together weird huh?" She shook her head.

"Not really, He loves you the thought of loosing you could be the thing that broke the camels back....Still tho I feel sorry for you.....More so your ass I mean neither of them are weak by any means.... And I doubt your behaving" you groaned as she chuckled

"Hey come on let me have that one, I mean you just got spanked back there then I find out that your letting both of them spank you?"you scoffed

"Let? you try wriggling away see how far you get! , Superman's a nosy prick who can fuck right off" you shouted up at the sky hoping the bastard could hear you then heard the familiar sound of him roaming the sky. You froze looking to the sky cautiously and gulped, he was still about.

"...Shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that! Lets go before he comes back I don't want another round" you said trying to make your way out of he area asap quickly regretting shouting at him. Lois smiled, you were going to be so pissed off when you find out, but she kept that to her self.

"... You think he was bluffing, like superman can't really go to the office can he? like there'd be to many questions? That suit is so tight I doubt he has a pocket for a phone....right?" she hissed through her teeth seeing where you were going.

"Well I couldn't say, but I don't think you can keep it from Clark. I mean their close....really close two peas in a pod"

"No shit I realized that when they both had the same views on domestic discipline, it was that cape wearing asshat who gave Clark the idea" she blinked you really had no idea.

"If you want my advice tell him the truth because when he finds out and he will, he will be angry that you broke in and hurt that you lied to him" you sighed

"Your right I suppose, best to get it over with....Could you keep this a secret? Please in all honesty I'd rather you forget the whole thing.." she smiled nodding

"It goes without saying, but I promise I wont tell a soul.... If the league are on this tho we should leave it." You blinked at her

"What? Do my ears deceive me or is Lois Lane, THE Lois lane dropping a story?" You gaped at her she nodded.

"From the way he said it...He was serious... Whatever is in there is dangerous and we should leave this one... You nearly got shot over it, in Metropolis! If they are willing to risk that type of law suit then its big business in there....And no offense but I'm not really itching for a trip over someone's knee anytime soon." you scoffed but nodded she was probably right.

You kept up small talk on the way back Lois was trying to get your mind off of the inevitable and it worked. It wasn't until you reached the daily planet that your stomach tied in knots. Once you was in the office you felt Clark’s eyes on you before he came over engulfing you in a hug tucking your face in the crook of his neck as you began shaking again. He kissed the side of your head.

"You went there didn't you?" You nodded sniffling he heaved a deep sigh

"You stupid stupid girl, are you hurt? What happened? I know something happened from the minute you walked in" you fumbled with your words a little going to brush him off but a look from Lois quickly made you change your mind.

"I broke in..... And got spotted and I was shot at....A tiny bit....Like teeny weeny bit shot at" He quickly pulled you away his face set firm as he stared at you.

"S-superman saved me and then he well..... You know..." you flushed but he simple blinked at you

"He what?" You groaned and nodded behind you he fixed you with a look and grasped your ass squeezing you hissed stepping on tip toes trying to wriggle away from his hand.

"Oh so he gave you another spanking?" He said still applying pressure to your tender warm cheeks, you nodded hissing at him still trying to escape.

"Yes! and he did it in front of Lois even when I begged him not to! Claarrk! Stoop it hurts!" You whined at him he only sighed shaking his head at you giving you a severe look making you feel even more sorry for yourself.

"Good its definitely what you deserve and you can expect another when we leave today, I specifically told you not to go there. What was you thinking?"

"Kent is everything alright?" You both turned looking at Perry you nodded but Clark shook his head

"Y/n isn't really feeling well" Perry nodded regarding you

"She does look a flushed... Probably best you take a half day y/n" you nodded at him thanking him, thinking this the perfect time to escape your unimpressed boyfriend.

"I will to if that’s alright? I've already handed in my article today and I can look after her god knows someone needs to, she's to stubborn to do it herself" Clark asked Perry, he nodded knowing even feeling unwell you’d probably go home and work anyway.

Twenty minutes of awkward silence later you both arrived at his apartment. He was angry. But it was an eerie calm anger. He dropped his keys and bag taking your bag from you then kicked his shoes off you did the same unable to take the silence anymore

"Clark I'm sorry, I really am I didn't intend to be spotted" he sighed

"No one ever intends to get caught.But that’s no excuse... I told you not to go! Fuck I didn't say that for fun I said it because I love you and I don’t want you to get hurt, I was worried when I didn't see you in the office and I just hoped you listened, trying to kid myself that you had found another safe story to do. I was terrified all I could do was wait for you to return or to receive a phone call from A hospital or-or police department and I was worried for good reason you was shot at! Shot y/n!" You quivered as he scolded you, as frightening as the huge man was angry you couldn't help the way your core twitched watching him, the tingling of your clit returning as he ran a hand through his hair messing it up.

He stopped and pointed a finger at you.

"It was a dumb thing to do and no matter how bruised your ass is this time I'm adding to it !" You shrunk as he walked past you deeper into the living room. Sitting on the sofa.

"You cant be serious...Claarrk! He has already done it! And in front on Lois No...I’m not having it!" He tilted his head casting a glance over his glasses as you stomped at him, he sighed.

"And I'm not having you running around god knows where getting yourself in trouble being fucking shot at! Come here....Now" he said quietly you gulped as his voice got deeper shaking your head stepping back a few steps. He leaned forward pulling him self off the seat and in four quick strides he was in front of you dragging you forward before him.

You fought him feet dragging on the floor ,cursing his large form as he over powered you ushering you around the sofa to the side then paused. He settled for leaning towards you pinning you between him and the arm of the sofa moving his hands forward he popped the button on your jeans batting at your hands leaving sharp slaps to them as you resisted and tried to fight him trying to hold them up. He quickly halted your efforts making you whine at him tugging them down making you squeak flushing as he peeled them down you held his shoulders as he wrestled your legs out of them. You stood back still trying to wriggle free

"No..Please don’t Clark!" You protested all of your bravado failing yet again as you were placed bare ass over the sofa waiting for what was promising to be a very uncomfortable spanking. Clark smirked noting that your protests sounded more like a panicked little girl who didn’t think her daddy was serious as you soon found yourself bent over the arm of the sofa one of his hands at the curve of your spine holding you down.

"How can you still be so bratty with an ass this red? Hmm? This time he wasn't thorough enough, I will fix that!" You cringed as he moved his hand across your two glowing cheeks pressing his hands in letting you feel how hot and swollen you was,  you moved yours back to him trying to shield your already hot cheeks. You whined pitifully as he moved them in front of you

"Keep these up here!" You nodded finally giving into him as he moved to stand at an angle quickly connecting his hand making you claw at his sofa cushions trying to inch yourself forward, but it was no use he had you tucked securely against the arm not leaving you anywhere to go. you yelped as he raise his hand again making sure to hit the pinkest part of your cheeks, you kicked out whining at him. He chuckled it was cute your feeble struggles as he popped you on your sore red bottom again and again sending you into a full blown paddy.

"CLARK!PLEASE STOP!" he tilted around to meet your gaze seeing your bright red face. He stuck out his bottom lip at you mirroring your pout.

"Aww poor y/n is it already sore?" You nodded sniffling feeling completely humiliated already.

"Well then maybe you should start doing as your told." He finished his statement with a firm slap that rippled across your ass, you wailed fidgeting clawing at the sofa cushion beneath you as he continued to spank your ass and thighs. Your toes curled into the carpet below you as his hot palm landed again and again each time in a slightly different place slowly working in rounds across your bottom. It wasn't long before the pain truly set in, a deep burn building on your already smarting cheeks that made you truly feel small and naughty, ashamed of yourself for being naughty and ending up in this position.

You cried true tears as he move lower to a more sensitive spot cupping his hand on impact making the sting almost sweet as the jolt went straight to your aching clit making you throb with need. Fat tears rolled down your face as he moved you higher stretching out your cheeks giving him easy access to the crease of your thighs that Superman couldn't reach earlier.

"NOO! Clark pl-please sto-op I'm sorry OWW NO! I wont do it again! Please!" He huffed at you as you choked out the words around sobs that wracked your body jolting when you heard the quicker stinging slaps echo through the room, moving your hands back trying to cover yourself tho you wasn't sure if it was to shield your ass or hide your drenched pussy.

He had already spotted it, he growled capturing both wrists pinning them to your back as he smelt you, some of your juices was already clinging to his fingertips where he had spanked a little lower then necessary, it gave him an idea he knew that he couldn't continue on your ass for much longer.

"I hope so! Do you know just how worried I was! You little BRAT! Your so lucky that I wasn't there had I been I wouldn't have left your jeans up in front of Lois you can be damn sure of that!" You whined not really sure how he new you hadn't been spanked bare by the man of steels but you couldn't dwell on it as he moved again pressing a hand to the top of your cheeks digging his blunt fingers into the darkened flesh making you whine pitifully at him to stop through your tears.

”You.will.never.disobey.me.like.that.again!...do you understand me?" you nodded weakly as he emphasized each word with harder and harder spanks on the crease of your bottom making it just as bright as the rest of your ass. Finally you felt him pull away and you sighed still sobbing your heart out, half in pain the other humiliation at how your body had reacted to him.

You twisted trying to cross your legs as you felt your arousal drip down your thighs in long embarrassing streams and yelped when he kicked out your ankles wider and moved to peel back your lips taking a long look at your wanting core, chuckling when he saw how you clenched longingly, wanting to be stuffed full. He sighed as you tried to fight him.

"Oh no you don’t let daddy see..." you whined pressing your face into the cushion hissing and bucking into his hand as he ran a fingertip up and down your slit.

"Oh god! Dont LOOK! STOOPP!"  You were silenced with a all be it lighter spank straight on your revealed clit making you screech that broke of into a moan then another and another you clenched on each strike, his spanks on your pussy pushing you closer and closer to a trembling orgasm he stopped just shy of your release making you heave deep breaths.

He tutted at you leaving his hand wedged between the two pink lips rubbing across you harshly in an up and down motion.

"Oh sweet baby~ don’t tell me your were going to cum on my palm as I spanked your naughty little pussy?" You groaned as he moved his hand dipping two wide fingers into you leaving your mouth agape as he scissored them, he concentrated on your high pitched sounds and the way your pussy began clenching and suckling.

"Oh you were weren't you? So so ready for me hmm? Just a needy little girl~" You shivered and moaned trying to grind on his fingers as the brushed your walls massaging them just right you gasped when he began fucking you faster and harder onto his fingers them held them still buried deep to the knuckles curling them.

You jolted as he hit that spot, the smooth patch of nerves that will finally finish you off the edge.

"Is this all you wanted baby? Such a naughty baby~ You were acting out so daddy would bring you home and punish you? Maybe that what I should do, punish my needy little girls cunt, fuck her until shes a very sore very sorry little girl" As he spoke he was watching listening to your heart rate the way you struggled to breath you were close, his dirty talk seemed to do the trick , he could feel your body clenching as he called you his naughty baby. He quickly and cruelly pulled away at the last second laughing when your little pussy tried holding on to him as he withdrew his fingers he watched the pleasure fade and become annoyance you really had been just about to cum.

"Poor baby~" his voice was condescending, belittling  and it made your knees shake. He was sexy just being his normal shy farmboy self but here and now he seemed like a totally different animal! The confidence and raw power he had over you was...It was breathtaking and arousing...definitely not what you expected from the man. Somehow he seemed to know exactly what you needed, he somehow knew you wanted a daddy, to spank and fuck you into behaving, the thoughts of the huge man taming you left you a mess beneath him.

Your protest was immediate you moved side to side letting your thighs rub at your swollen lips trying desperately to trap your clit between them. Your voice hoarse from begging and pleading with him

"I NOO! CL-CLARK PLEASE I WANT!-" he shut you up with another spank to your pussy making you gasp and widen your legs craving any sort of contact.

"Huh? I’m sorry You what? You might have to speak louder so I can hear you?" You turned resting the side of your face on the sofa looked at him tears still streaming slowly down your face.

"I-I want to cum! Please Clark please I want you to fuck me! Spank me again, just I-I want you to do something PLEASE DADDY! " he tilted his head and sighed looking at you from the top of his eyes enjoying the little game. Reveling in the fact you'd acknowledged him as your daddy; your dom your one and only, he felt it in his bones the way you'd given in, falling to his need to dominate you completely.

"Well now is that so?...All I hear is a disobedient little madame demanding things...Well I'm afraid that 'I want' never gets around here.." You whined

"I SAID PLEEAASSEE!"

"And I said no! Not until you beg nicely, until ask me with a pretty please~" closing your eyes, him seeing your arousal from his chastisement is one thing but he wanted you to beg? You flushed and wriggled back. He moved deciding that you needed some encouragement chuckling rubbing a single finger down your slit pinpointing your clit and rubbed harshly for a few breaths then pulled back hovering it just out of your reach. You snapped twisting again to him

."Please daddy~ I'm sorry I was bad, Please let me make it up to you? Let me play with you, make you happy and show you just how sorry I am for being a brat again~" for a moment he wavered wanting to stop this game and fuck you full right there.

He still might. With a grin he leant down over you making sure to let you feel his hard cock he smiled as his teasing worked as you whimpered pitifully pressing back to him.

"Ahh...You want daddy to play with you?....is that it? you want me to finger fuck your needy little pussy until, your just gushing all over me? well baby?" You moaned weakly at his filthy words going bright red and nodded.

"Y-YES PLEASE! FUCK TOUCH ME PLEASE CLARK I CAN'T...I'M SORRY!" Your cry was loud and uneven as you fought to wrestle  your arms free trying to move back against him, to find something to grind on. He moved quickly unable to deny himself anymore the sight of you bent over and red assed and begging for him; for your daddy to fuck you any which way made him snap, it was all the permission he needed.

More tears fell this time in relief as you felt his hand drop to his waist then heard his belt move as he undone it with one hand quickly shucking down his trousers, he wasted no time lining up and with one sharp bone shaking thrust he embedded what felt like 10 inches straight into your quivering heat.

You screamed out but he quickly curbed it as he caught the scruff of your neck and pressed you into the sofa, the movement took your feet completely off the floor leaving them to kick about behind you. Perfect. Now your really did have to endure whatever he threw at you. Had you been able to see him you would have seen an abnormally dark look cross his normally sweet face. You groaned high cringing as he plowed his way into you holding himself deeper then anyone you'd had before.

You gasped finding it hard to breath with him leaning over you pressing your body down into the sofa you tired calling out to him as you began panicking when he pressed your face further into the sofa making you go a little dizzy, thoughts becoming hazy as your airflow was being cut off slowly as he rocked slowly fucking any tiny breaths you took right out of you. Just as you began to panic more he moved his hand moving to twist in your hair pulling your face up. You took deep gasping breaths crying out as he pulled back and rocked his hips into yours, making sure to slap his thighs harshly into your bruised bottom making you groan in slight pain, not that he could really tell with all the moaning you were doing. He wanted to make this a little painful, after all you'd been a bad girl.

He grunted loudly into your ear his breaths huffing past your ear making sure you heard just how good you felt for him. You tried turning to kiss him but he gave a quick shake of your hair.

"OOhh FUCK-YES THAT’S IT ugh ugh no~ your not kis-SHIT NOT YET BABY! fuck not yet no!. No your not kissing daddy only OH MY GOD!Fuuuck! Only good girls get kisses and your a bad baby! Bad babies don’t get kisses!" You whined slumping forward as much as you could pouting, you hissed whining and moaning as he pulled you up by your hair.

"What are you?" You whined shaking your head but he growled shaking you by your hair slightly, you cried out at the sting in your scalp.

"I'M AHH FUCKplease! CLARK! DADDY NONONONO! PLEASE I'M SORRY! I'M A BAD BABY! I'M A VERY BAD BABY!"

"ugh fuck yes! Yes you are and you're going to stay right here and let me fill that little pussy! If your lucky I might let your naughty little cunt cum over my cock... But don’t even think about cumming until I say so." How he managed to talk so evenly whilst fucking you so thoroughly.

You cried out a loud animalistic sound as he moved back before thrusting into you deeper then you thought possible, hitting your cervix with a force you'd never experienced almost winding you. You whined as he battered away at your core your muscles protested weakly to his cocks heavy thrusts stretching around him so tightly, you felt his pulse throbbing away inside of you each time he impaled you on him his veins rubbing at your walls in a pleasantly addictive pace. 

You moaned every nerve in your body was alight arms tensing. He moved you releasing your hair and tucking his hands around your thighs pulling them further apart the action let him bury himself deeper inside of you, taking your breath away as he fucked you roughly , you twitched hissing as his balls slapped against your sore spanked clit making you see stars softly grunting as the abuse on your clit pushed you higher a surge of heat rolling around in your tummy just waiting to let loose. Somehow he knew and began grunting at you.

"Don’t you fucking dare! You hold it or I'm going to fuck your ass to!" You yelled out as he forced himself into your body with renewed vigor leaning down you bit the cushion below you trying to fight off the climax that was seconds away. The stinging heat of your ass was being punished all over again only this time it was his thighs doing the spanking. He tilted you up further your breasts now laying on the sofa cushion as he rutted into you his thrusts sloppy and he moaned louder and louder he was close you could feel him swelling, ready to fill you with his cum, to claim you as his own little fuck toy and ruin you.

"BEG! BEG FOR ME TO FILL YOUR CUNT!" You gasped as he spanked you making your muscled coiled tightly around his cock.

"PLEEAASSEE DADDY PLEASE CUM INSIDE ME! FUCK ME FULL LIKE YOUR LITTLE WHORE! LIKE I’M JUST YOUR TOY PLEASE! DADDY I WANT IT PRETTY PLEASE!" you shouted the words barely having the breath to beg him.

"Fuck yes good girl! Such a good toy for daddy! Now cum that right you can cum on daddy's cock!" You cried in relief letting go trembling as you came over him, arching wildly it was a full body orgasm like you’d never experienced before. You couldn’t even voice your pleasure far to lost in the shivering euphoria.

Your quivering heat sucked him so tightly as you came not even he could continue to hold out roaring as you forced him to cum inside of you, you’d actually milked him! Sucked the cum right out of his balls Forced him to release his cum and drench your insides.

You both eventually came down from your highs you were still bent over the sofa tears trailing from your eyes tho your really unsure why panting heat going ten to the dozen. He patted your back and pulled himself free gasping and sweaty. He moved around you on unsteady feet and sat near your head he moved pulling you across his lap tucking you into his chest.

You moaned as he moved your tender body across the cushions to him you noticed at some point of his wild punishment fuck he had removed his shirt. You looked up at him smiling giggling slightly smoothing some of your loose hair out of your face. He sighed pressing a firm kiss to your neck then grunted pulling back and removing his slightly fogged glasses placing then on the table. He leaned back staring at you intently you blinked then moaned trying to find a more comfy place the sit wincing as your tender lower half moved against his thick thighs. You pouted as he chuckled running a hand through his hair moving the curls to the side, you froze looking at him.

"W-what? Clark? You look just like...." he froze realizing just what you meant and nodded sighing he was quick to wrap an arm around your waist so you wouldn't run.

"Yes....I-I am I mean" you tilted your head as he unconsciously tried to hide his face

"Your?....YOUR Superman? Its you whos-whos been? You've been saving me? Spanking me?" He nodded weakly unsure if you was angry or not. You looked at him in disbelief moving to cup his face gently when he wouldn't look at you you curled up tucking yourself into his chest hugging him far to exhausted to argue and cuss him out for being a dick. He moved slowly wrapping his other arm around you hugging you rubbing your back.

"I'm sorry....I really am, I don’t know why I do those dangerous things...I just always have...Never had to think about other people before" you felt him nod and kiss your head.

"Well now you do, I was terrified. Am terrified when I see you do those stupid stupid things I'm terrified that one day...One day I wont be fast enough, strong enough to save you....I am not invincible there are things out there that can weaken me and one day I might not be able to save you one day I might not be there to find you" you cringed at just how he said the words he was telling the truth.

"I-I will be better from now on...I will try to stop my adrenaline seeking habits...But it will take time, Ive always been like this." He smiled kissing you deeply.

"I know you will little girl~ but your always going to have me hovering over your shoulder...Maybe I could take you flying? To get your fix?" He chuckled as you remembered your last little flight with him. You shook your head.

"N-no thank you Clark I didn’t like that..." he smirked at you nipping at your ear

"like you’d have a choice baby girl~ I think that’s what I’m going to do from now on when I catch you being naughty, scoop you up and fly you off somewhere for a good old spanking!" You groaned

"Noooo Clark don’t! No more spanking...And someone will seee!" he laughed at your pout and poked your nose watching as you scrunched it at him huffing

."Oh yes little lady spanking is something we are definitely keeping up with you sorely need it,  and don’t worry there are many quiet places I can take you to tan that naughty little bottom!...And now you know you’d best behave at work to~ no more three hour lunch breaks to go see a movie...Yes I know all about that" You flushed and buried your face in his neck whingeing at him yawning, the days events catching up to you. He sighed tightening his hold on you breathing in your scent.

"I love you baby never forget that" you mumbled it back to him tiredly making him smile as you snuggled into him, he had no doubt that tomorrow you’d be mad at him and sulk over going to work with a bruised bottom and the fact that he has been the one spanking you around town. But that was tomorrow and he could deal with it then for now he was content, the truth was now out and it was a huge weight lifted from him and he could rest peacefully knowing you were safe and sound with him.

[earthspirit10]

Ninjago Angst Week: Day Six - Sickness

@ninjago-angst-week​ klasdjfal;sjdfas AHHHH I’m sorry this is like, five days late, but I’ve been really busy and stressed and then research, but, uh, it’s here now? Hope it’s not too late :P

And well, this one isn’t as good as the others, in my opinion. (Well, I think it’s better than Day One, but for the others? Meh.) Writing someone sick (especially if I’ve never gotten that . . . particular disease before) is hard and I’m not even sure if I even got it all write. Also, Zane. Zane is hard to write too.

Trigger Warnings: Sickness (because that’s enough to be grossed out at), mention of death

---

As a nindroid, it wasn’t possible for Zane to get sick. He wasn’t a real lifeform like the others, nor was he prone to malfunctioning due to water or anything else a normal robot would suffer from. He was grateful for that, for even though he wasn’t physically human, he was human in his heart. It meant that he could take care of his siblings better without getting sick or injured himself.

When Jay had suddenly doubled over coughing, everyone had rushed toward his aid. Zane, of course, had helped whatever he could—he’d cooked warm meals for him, given him medicine, and made sure he was comfortable. (The others practically had to wrestle him into bed.)

It wasn’t unusual for Jay to be coughing these days due to a cough he’d developed, which wasn’t very uncommon or worrisome, but Zane was worried that the cold had progressed into something worse.

Zane opened the door to Jay’s room and poked his head through to check on his brother, who seemed to be curled up under layers and layers of blankets.

“Jay?”

Jay peeked out from under the blankets and blinked blearily, coughing a few times before giving Zane a reassuring smile. “Hey, tin can.”

Closing the door behind him, Zane entered the room and sat down on the bed next to Jay. He wasn’t afraid of catching whatever sickness his brother had, mainly because it was impossible. Still, he made a note to disinfect himself should he ever get close to any of his other siblings.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, remembering that Jay had sensitive hearing even without being sick.

“Bored,” Jay grumbled, huffing in indignation. “I mean, there’s nothing to do! I’m not even allowed to do anything! No video games, no tinkering, no—” His body suddenly shook as a coughing fit overtook him, and Zane watched anxiously as it dragged on. It seemed to take hours—though his internal clock told him it was only twelve seconds—before it passed, with Jay shivering and panting for breath.

Coughing. Fever. Chills. Immediately, Zane scanned the blue ninja’s body, his optical sensors switching into X-ray vision. It was difficult to do so with all the blankets surrounding Jay, not to mention that he was curled up.

“Jay,” Zane said softly, trying to keep his voice as even as he could. Jay blinked again, head tilting up in question. “Are you able to sit up?”

Jay nodded, though his expression still remained confused. Shifting around in his blankets, he sat up slowly, coughing weakly.

Now that his brother was sitting up, Zane was able to fully scan his chest, eyes narrowing. And as soon as he detected something, his metaphorical heart dropped, and he inhaled sharply, sensors switching back to normal vision.

No. That couldn’t— his brother couldn’t have—

“Zane, what— what is it?” Jay asked frantically, his voice edging on borderline panic. “What’s wrong?”

Zane swallowed, turning his head away. Now with this new knowledge, his advanced senses could clearly detect the wheezing whenever Jay breathed, the rapid pumping of his heart, the abnormal air flow in his lungs.

More worrying symptoms of— of—

“Zane, please, you’re really starting to worry me—”

Abruptly, he stood up, cutting off whatever Jay was going to say. Turning, Zane set his shoulder back, plastered on a smile, stopped his hands from shaking. He answered cheerfully, “Oh, nothing you should worry yourself about.”

Jay stared back. “Are you . . . sure?”

“Of course.” Zane nodded, already moving toward the doorway. “You should rest. Try not to exert yourself.” He said the last few sentences with more emphasis than he would normally put in.

“It’s not like there’s anything else I can do,” Jay sighed, but he flopped back onto the bed. Almost immediately, his body was wracked with coughs, but he waved aside Zane’s concern. “I’ll be fine, Zane,” he rasped. “Not goin’ anywhere. See?”

Zane eyed his brother for a few moments, then he exited the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as the door was closed, he laid his head on it, pressing his hands to his eyes.

Why was he overreacting with this information? It wasn’t like this was fatal, nor was it dangerous, so why was he acting like Jay had a life-threatening disease that could potentially take him away any moment? It wasn’t— it wasn’t like—

His back sliding down the door, Zane buried his head between his knees, tears springing to his eyes, tears that weren’t supposed to be there in the first place, and yet he was human enough to have them.

Sometimes, he wished that he didn’t have emotions, that he didn’t have to feel the pain, the guilt, the worry.

If Jay’s illness worsened, if fate decided to be cruel again, Jay might die. It was Zane’s fault for detecting it so late, for not scanning him the first time he’d shown signs of a cough a week ago. And that meant a higher risk for this sickness to become deadly.

And they had let him participate in training, in patrols, in crime scenes. Mainly because Zane had told them that it was okay, when it wasn’t okay. Not anymore.

What kind of brother was he?

Footsteps approached him, and Zane raised his head, blinking as his vision sharpened on Cole’s face.

“Zane?” the earth ninja’s voice was concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Zane inhaled. Exhaled. He shouldn’t lie to them. Shouldn’t give them the false sense of security he’d stupidly given to Jay.

“Jay has pneumonia.”

⸺

After that, everything basically descended into chaos and panic. Calls were made, antibiotics were bought, and new rules and patrols were assigned. Zane had to hold Kai back from bursting into Jay’s room and fussing over him, mainly because this type of pneumonia was contagious, partly because Kai looked incredibly mad and that wouldn’t do well for Jay’s mental health, which could also affect his physical health.

Eventually, Zane had to tell Jay of his condition, which he oddly took well. At least, considering how much the blue ninja would normally panic.

“It’ll just— it’ll just pass, right?” Jay asked hoarsely, though there was a hint of fear in his voice. “Nothing much to worry about?”

Zane could tell that the others were pressed against the door of the room, anxiously eavesdropping on the conversation.

He nodded. “If you get enough rest and medicine, and there are no complications, then you should be fine.” The word should echoed ominously, silently, and he knew that all of them knew that not everything went as it should go.

Jay breathed out a sigh, before he dissolved into a bout of harsh hacking. Immediately, the mood spiraled into worried buzzing, and the door creeped open the tiniest bit. Zane rubbed his brother’s back, anxiously waiting for it to pass.

“Jay—”

“‘m fine,” Jay murmured, voice raspy from all the coughing. He closed his eyes, snuggling closer to his blankets.

Zane eyed him for a few more moments, heart clenching at his brother’s pitiful form. Swallowing, he stood up and patted his shoulder. “You should rest,” he whispered. The lightning ninja didn’t reply, but the slow rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was already asleep.

Zane turned on X-ray vision for a brief moment, scanning for any other unusual activity, then on to infrared, before he switched back to normal human vision. Slowly standing up, he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him, and was immediately met with the anxious gazes of his other siblings.

“He’s fine, for now,” he told them, keeping his voice carefully even. “He’ll simply need more rest and medicine. His immune system will do the rest.”

They all relaxed, if only slightly, but Zane knew that they would never truly be at ease until Jay was completely healed. After all, they had a bad history with luck.

⸺

As the days passed, Jay only got sicker. Almost the entirety of the week was filled with him coughing, the tense atmosphere rising every time it worsened. Still, Zane knew better than to give him cough medicine, especially since coughing was meant to help with the pneumonia. He made sure to monitor his brother every hour, checking on his lungs, his heart, his blood pressure—basically everything. It hadn’t gotten bad to the point where Jay would need to be admitted into the hospital, but he was dangerously close.

Once, as Zane left Jay’s room, he nearly bumped into Cole, who always hovered near. He nodded silently at the earth ninja and was about to resume his day when he suddenly felt a hand grabbing his wrist, holding him back. Surprised, Zane glanced back, and he blinked in alarm at the barely noticeable tears in Cole’s eyes.

“I—” Cole swallowed, looking away, as if embarrassed. His hand let go of the ice ninja’s wrist. “Jay’s going to be fine, right?” His voice was small, but it was pleading, desperate, almost like he was afraid of Zane’s answer.

Zane closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them. “He will be alright,” he said quietly and firmly, but he couldn’t help the fear that surged in him as he heard Jay emit another cough from within the room.

“That’s what the doctors told me,” Cole whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, and Zane wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or himself.

After a while, Cole shook his head, his eyes reopening. “I— well, when I was little, my mom— she was really sick.”

Oh. Oh. Zane stared back at his brother, not sure if he liked where this was going.

“A-and the doctors said that she’d be okay, that she was going to survive, but—” His voice stuttered to a stop, and Cole made an odd noise that sounded like he was choking, and he turned away.

The silence stretched on, very painfully loud, with Jay coughing occasionally in the background. Zane continued staring at his brother, not sure what to do in this situation. He wasn’t used to seeing Cole like this—so vulnerable and open, and it made his mechanical heart clench.

But he knew loss. All of them do, all too well. And he knew how it felt to feel so hopeful, hopeful for the future, only for that hope to be shattered.

So Zane did what anyone would normally do. He hugged his brother, wrapping his arms around him. Cole stiffened in surprise, but eventually, he relaxed into the embrace, hugging the ice ninja back.

Patting Cole’s back a little awkwardly, Zane whispered, letting his emotions seep into his voice, “Jay will be fine.” A beat. “I promise.”

And it wasn’t an empty promise. Logically, Zane knew that pneumonia wasn’t deadly, especially since Jay had a really good immune system. But for the sake of his family, for the sake of Jay, Zane wasn’t going to let his brother die.

He’d die himself before that would happen.

[2nerd4this]

Fluffy prompt: Cathy getting sick and not wanting to admit it bc she knows everyone is stressed and she doesn't want to make it worse. But Catalina like forces her to submit to being looked after (or possibly tricks her into accepting care.) OR Cathy just suddenly feeling really clingy to Lina but trying to suppress it bc she doesn't want to be annoying. Lina though ofc notices this and makes a special point of keeping Cathy close to her bc she can tell she needs it rn.

Heyyy, these were such both good ideas that I decided to combine them. This one’s fairly long, for my standards anyway, and it's completely unedited because it was my coping mechanism for the last few days, so... I hope it’s still alright, or at least makes sense. Thanks for the prompt!

It was foolish- Cathy knows- to assume that she could avoid the virus that was moving through the Queen’s house like a... well- a virus. 

Even the Ladies, who the Queens had started to cut off contact with after the first few cases in an attempt to keep them healthy, were not immune, and Maria, who was adamant that she wouldn’t get it, was currently confined to her bedroom by the others.

But for some reason, Cathy thought she would be fine. It had gotten to the others fairly quickly, and Jane, the last to get it, was almost back to full health. 

Imagine her annoyance, then, when she awoke this morning with a splitting headache and a sore throat, exactly what she had been dreading for weeks.

Groaning, she rolled over and pulled the blankets up over her head. This was the most inconvenient time to be sick. Tonight was supposed to be the first time all six Queens were healthy enough to perform together, and their poor alternates were in desperate need of a break. 

She would just have to suck it up, then. Not only were the others excited and ready to perform all together (finally), they were all also exhausted from taking care of themselves and others for a straight month. Jane, to no fault of her own, had been rendered completely incapable of anything more than walking to the bathroom for a straight week- both because of the illness and the anxiety that accompanied it. That meant that the other five Queens had been spending every waking moment taking care of her or running errands, something that Jane usually took care of.

No- Cathy would be fine. A cold shower, a couple of pills, a warm breakfast. That would be enough, at least to tide her over until after the show. Once she got up and moving, she would be good to go.

.

So that was a lie.

It was almost time to leave for the show and Cathy hadn’t left her room in hours, curled up under the blankets, sweating and shivering and wishing she could just sleep. But each tick of the clock reminded her that she couldn’t- she shouldn’t. Her family needed her.

So when six rolled around, Cathy managed to get herself vertical and presentable, just in time for Anne to yell upstairs that they were leaving in five minutes and that she ‘better get your butt to the car soon or else Kitty’s gonna make you sit in the middle!”

Technically, she couldn’t safely take medicine again for another hour, but if she took some now, she would be able to have one more right before she went on stage. 

It was worth it.

.

When they arrived at the theater, the headache had not lessened as she had hoped. In fact, it had gotten worse. She hadn’t even thought that was possible.

Cathy tried her best to push through, but with warm-up first, she knew there was no way she could disguise her pain much longer.

“Whoa, Cath,” Jane caught her arm as she swayed and stumbled onto the stage, “You alright, love?”

“Yeah, yeah, just tired.” Cathy nodded assuredly. Jane didn’t look convinced, but Joan had already started and she couldn’t do anything but nod and pat her arm gently.

The sixth Queen positioned herself behind the others, against the wall, so they wouldn’t notice as she winced with every loud chord and shivered against the non-existent cold. 

And when warm-up came to a merciful end, she knew it was only the beginning.

Back in her changing room, it was just as loud.

Jane was celebrating her return to the show with an Insta Live, and Kitty was blasting music and singing along at the top of her lungs. 

Cathy did her makeup and hair as quickly as humanly possible, before throwing on her costume haphazardly and escaping the cramped room.

The brief respite the hallway brought caused her to sigh loudly in relief, and when she rounded the corner into the usually deserted stairwell, she slid to the floor immediately, putting her head between her knees and rubbing her temple, closing in on herself to try and stop shaking.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there- time became odd against the pain. At least pass the one-hour call, and she was barely able to make a mental note to keep an ear out for half-hour.

That, clearly, wasn’t going to happen, because it wasn’t until she felt the physical presence of a body next to her did she realize that she wasn’t alone. 

Before she could stop herself, her head shot up, causing her to shut her eyes in pain and groan. 

“Oh, mija,” Catalina’s sympathetic voice echoed loudly in her brain, even though she was probably whispering, and Cathy let out a pathetic whimper.

“Shhh”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Lina whispered, much quieter this time, and Cathy pried her eyes opened and peered up at the older woman. “Oh, honey, you look awful.”

“Wow, thanks,” Cathy quipped, albeit half-heartedly, then immediately regretted it when Lina laughed. “Too loud.”

“Sorry, sorry. Baby- mija... why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m fine, I- I took medicine earlier. I have to do the show- tonight at least. Give the girls a break.”

“You still want to perform?” Catalina asked incredulously, then immediately lowered her tone as her goddaughter winced. “Sorry, mija, I’ll be quiet now, I promise. But- querida, I’m taking you home.”

“No!” Cathy exclaimed, now ignoring the pain. “It’s alright, I’ll be fine, please.”

“Not a chance.” Catalina shook her head, wrapping an arm around the girl to start rubbing soft circles on her back. Cathy sank into the touch immediately. “There’s an alternate on stand-by here, as you... already know, of course, but I can text her right now, alright?”

Cathy whined pathetically, already shifting into her godmother’s warmth. “But madrina, I can-”

“No. That’s final. Don’t argue with me on this, Catherine. It’s a lost cause.”

The use of Cathy’s full name banished any remaining fight she had in her, and she nodded minutely, finally sinking fully against Catalina. The older woman nodded sagely, smirking softly. 

“Good girl. Give me just a second so I can text her and we can go, alright?”

She got no response, but she wasn’t expecting one anyway. Cathy’s eyes were already starting to shut again. 

.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, they were both in Catalina’s car, Cathy’s legs pulled up against her tightly as she shivered slightly from the breeze. The other Queens had understood immediately and reassured her, through text of course, and the alternate had been more than willing to step up. She had been kind of expecting it anyway. 

“Alright, mija, just twenty minutes and then we’ll be home. You can try to sleep if you want.”

Cathy just hummed in return, but that was enough answer for Catalina, who smiled and turned the ignition, then quickly turned the heat up.

The ride home was uneventful, though Cathy didn’t fall asleep. Catalina tried her best to follow all traffic laws, but every time her goddaughter shifted and groaned, her heart clenched and she sped up, just a little.

As such, they arrived back home in a little under fifteen minutes. 

“Cathy, querida, we’re here.”

Catalina rounded the car and helped the girl out of the car, supporting almost all of her body weight. 

She had to admit, she was a little glad that the others had been so sick as well, or else she would be driving Cathy to the hospital right now, based on how miserable she looked. 

“Did you eat dinner? Lunch?”

Cathy simply shook her head, allowing Catalina to lead her inside and straight to the kitchen, deposting her on the nearest stool. Immediately, she started rummaging through the fridge and pulling out assorted food. Because of the recent craziness, they didn’t have much that wouldn’t take an hour to prepare, but she got what they had and set it on the counter in front of Cathy.

“Here you go, mija.”

“I’m not hungry,” Cathy muttered, placing her elbows on the table and putting her head in her hands.

“You have to eat something, querida.” Catalina walked around the counter to rub her goddaughter's back gently, pushing a lock of stray hair behind her hear. “Please, mija. I understand, I do, but you’ll feel better if you eat.”

There was a long pause as Cathy groaned and rubbed her hands over her eyes before she sighed and lowered her head all the way down onto the table. Catalina hummed sympathetically.

“ ‘m sorry, madrina.”

Catalina paused her ministrations momentarily, regarding her goddaughter carefully, then sighed. “What for, mija?”

“Dunno. I shoulda- shoulda said something. Or worked harder to stay healthy, I dunno, I just-” Cathy raised her head a little, turning to peer up at Catalina through hooded eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh querida,” Catalina slid onto the stool next to the girl and pulled her upper body into her arms. “Don’t be. But, yeah, next time- tell me. Please?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good girl,” Catalina chuckled, resting her chin on the younger woman’s head. “Now. Are you sure you don’t want to try and eat?”

“I just want to sleep.”

“Alright,” Catalina conceded, “but afterwards....”

“Sure,” Cathy sighed, and Catalina supposed it was more from the exhaustion than actual agreement. Nevertheless, she smiled.

“Perfect.”

Catalina glanced at the food on the counter, then shook her head. It could survive a few hours out of the fridge. 

“Alright, up we get, mija. My room or yours?”

“Mmmm” Cathy nodded and stumbled to her feet, to little success, as Catalina reached out to steady her.

“Mine it is,” Catalina chuckled. “It’s closer.”

They made it upstairs without incident, and Cathy was quickly tucked away under the covers, sweaty hair matted to the pillow. Catalina flicked the lights off and shut the window, then turned back to her goddaughter.

“I can stay, if you want.”

“Mmm” Cathy hummed, pulling the covers tighter around her. Catalina smirked.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Sweet dreams, mija.”

To no one’s surprise, Catherine slept through the night, the virus counteracting her atrocious sleeping habits.

In fact, no one but Catalina saw Cathy again until lunch the next day.

“Cathy!” Anne exclaimed when the woman came down the stairs. 

Immediately, Catalina shushed her. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, covering her mouth.

“You would think you would have figure that out by now, Anne,” Kitty joked in a whisper. Anne simply shrugged, then patted the chair next to her. Cathy blinked at the second Queen slowly, pausing in the middle of the dining room and glancing over at Catalina.

“Cathy?” Anna questioned softly, tilting her head. “What’s up?”

“Oh, uh, nothing. Sorry.” Cathy shook her head, rushing over to sit next to Anne. “I’m just tired.”

The others continued to watch her oddly, and Cathy shrunk back into her seat, but Jane soon came to her rescue.

“Food’s ready, girls.”

And everything returned to normal.

.

Except it really wasn’t. 

After lunch, Anne suggested a movie. While they all reassured Cathy that they would understand, they really would, if she wanted to go back upstairs, she simply shook her head and sat in the armchair against the wall, as far from the others as she could get. 

And honestly, the others wouldn’t have thought anything of it, as Cathy seemed to be feeling much better, even laughing along to some of the jokes in the film, except for the fact that she had remained sitting straight up and stiff in the chair for the last hour and a half. 

“Cathy?” Jane asked after the movie, pulling the girl aside as the six scattered. “Are you alright?”

“What? Oh- oh, yeah. I mean,” she chuckled softly, shifting her weight awkwardly. “I have a headache, but it’s fine.”

“Alright...” Jane said, but she didn’t look convinced. “But if you need something- I’m here.” The third Queen reached out to rub the other woman’s arm, but Cathy shied away immediately. Jane pulled back and quickly apologized. “Sorry. How about you go upstairs and take a nap, alright?”

“I’m fine, Jane,” Cathy muttered, a little harsh. “I can take care of myself.”

“Alright.” Jane raised her hands in surrender, stepping back and leaving Cathy a clear path to the stairwell. Cathy glanced between her and it nervously, then slipped past and disappeared up the steps.

Unfortunately for Cathy, her path from the first staircase to the second was blocked. By the one person she didn’t want to see.

“Querida?” Catalina looked up from her basket of laundry to see the distressed look on her goddaughter’s face, and immediately shifted so she was blocking her escape upstairs. “Catherine, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Cathy-” Catalina sighed, setting the basket down and reaching forward to grab the sixth Queen’s arm. Cathy tensed and stepped back, but Catalina held firm. A few moments passed before Cathy sank into the touch. “Querida, how about you come back to my room and take a nap?”

“No, no. I- I was going to go up to my room and rest.” Cathy stepped back, pulling out of her grasp. Catalina sighed.

“Are you sure? I could use the company.”

Cathy paused, shifting her weight from foot to foot, then glanced from Catalina to the laundry basket.

“Laundry can wait.”

“....are you sure?”

“Of course, mija. Come on.”

Catalina led Cathy back to her room, leaving the basket where she sat it down, and straight to the bed. Cathy crawled under the covers and sunk into the pillows, but glanced up in surprise when Catalina followed, sitting up against the headboard and pulling the other side of the blanket up to her waist. 

“Madrina?”

“Is it alright if I sit here to read?”

Cathy eyed her godmother suspiciously for a moment, then dropped her head back onto the pillow.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What?” Catalina glanced down, head tilting in confusion, but her smirk was obvious. “I’m not doing anything.”

Cathy blinked up at her for a few more seconds, before smiling softly and relaxing back into the mattress. She then scooted closer to her godmother and rested her head on the woman’s leg, allowing her to wrap an arm around her back and rub gently. 

“I get it, mija,” Catalina whispered after a minute or so of silence. “But you don’t have to be worried about that sort of thing with me, alright? I’ll always be here for you.” The older woman leaned down to press a soft kiss to Cathy’s curl-covered forehead and said nothing when the girl in question was clearly blushing darkly. “Go to sleep, querida.”

.

Hours later, when Anne knocked on the door announcing supper, Catalina helped Cathy untangle herself from the covers and led her to the door. 

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“Never, mi hija. Even if you were perfectly healthy, I’d understand. If I need space to myself, I’ll tell you, but if I don’t... just assume it’s alright.”

Cathy nodded in understanding, then followed her godmother to the table, sitting down next to her and trying her best to avoid notice as she scooted the chair closer and closer to the older woman. 

And if the others noticed- now or when she didn’t leave Catalina’s side at all that night or when she fell asleep on her lap during the movie they were watching or when Catalina stayed home from the show the next day to or when Cathy slept in her room every night for three days straight- they certainly didn’t say a word. 

[selisekinsolving]

Cherysa left Selise to her paperwork about an hour ago. The bells chiming six o’ clock reminded her that she should have left as well or she was going to be late. A brief revving sound came from the street out front, followed by a loud knock on the door.

Selise rose and answered it herself. “Evenin-” 

A void elf stood on the stoop, carrying an unconscious man on his back. The sight threw her for a second, but she recognized the goggles on the man’s face. She stepped to the side with a frown and motioned inside. “Straight back.”

Drahs was jostled by the elf as he stepped inside. The elf offered a glance to the woman as she came over and dropped him firmly onto the nearest chair. “This is yours, right?” He grunted. He turned and left, leaving the human in the chair without another word.

Selise scowled at the question, but was looking over Drahs to gain her bearing on the situation. "What happened?" By the time she asked the question, the chimes on the front door were already ringing as the elf left. "Stuck up..." She extended her palms over Drahs, a brief glow coming to her hands, followed by an extremely troubled look. The glow intensified, focusing on the broken ribs and shallow breathing. “Drahs, can ya hear me?”

Drahs slowly regained consciousness and began hacking and wheezing; intensely and continuous. His expression changed into shock as he looked around. He clasped a hand over his mouth as pain wracked his body, both from the coughing and the broken bones.

"Cor!" she called over her shoulder and the arcane familiar appeared in a matter of seconds. At the sight of Drahs, it kept its distance. "Intravenous painkillers, cough suppressants." She fished in a pocket and held out a handkerchief to him.

He shakily took the kerchief and began hacking into it violently. The brief moment Sel could see his palm she noticed the blood staining the palm, both old and new. Sweat and tears begin pouring down Drahs' face as he did his best to regain himself.

Selise didn't comment on the sight of the blood. She stepped away briefly to grab the tray that Cor brought to the doorway. Setting it on the table, she pulled on a pair of gloves and moved to roll up the sleeve of his right arm. She made quick work of cleaning the area and drawing up the syringe followed by injecting the painkiller. “Take two of the round pills when you can, it'll help..." Said medicine was on the tray along with a small cup of water.

Drahs immediately slammed the pills into his mouth as the painkiller was injected, drinking the water greedily. The water itself seemed to help calm him as his coughing fit started to ebb away, though rather slowly. Blood began staining the kerchief as well but he still planted it over his mouth as his fit continued.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and muttered a word. An aura of calm and somewhat bolstered energy extended from the priest throughout most of the room. "One second." She stepped away again and came back a few moments later with a full pitcher of water which she set on the table.

Drahs wheezed slightly, but turned his head away. He did his best to hide the condition of the handkerchief. "Evening Graves...wasn't expecting to see you tonight." He wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow and poured another glass of water.

Another clean handkerchief was placed on the desk in front of him. Selise wheeled her chair over to take a seat. "I would say the same...a rather rude elf dropped you in here. It's Kinsolving now, but I suppose that doesn't quite roll off the tongue the same way." She offered a weak smirk. "What happened?”

He offered a weak smile as he took the new handkerchief. "Oh you tied the knot? Congratulations! I'm sorry I missed the wedding, I was probably busy with work at the time. You know how that goes." It was a poor attempt to avoid the conversation.

Selise rose a brow. "No apology necessary, we kept it between the two of us." She frowned at him. "I haven't seen you in months, I thought you were on a case but..." she looked him over again and her voice was softer as she continued. "I didn't know it had gotten this bad."

Drahs stiffened slightly. He fell into another brief coughing fit into his rag, but mostly ignores the pain. Apparently she had given him some of the really good stuff. He lowered his head as he sighed. "...I'm dying Sel."

She sat back a bit at that. A brief look of indignation crossed her features. "Who-" But then realization set in. "You've been going to Splint instead." Her posture wilted somewhat and she looked at the bloodstained cloth. "I don't - this is coming on too fast, there could be options, what happened?" Her hurried speech and expression gave away the bit of panic that set over her which was briefly blocking out the fact that she knew good and well that Splint was a more experienced medical professional than she was.

Drahs winced at her obviously hurt expression. "My..." He was hesitant to respond. "My lungs are rotting...my immune system can't handle it anymore and..." He let out another cough. "The damage has already spread too far to stop..."

Selise just stared for a moment then quickly looked at the desk, the bookshelf, the door, anything. She took in a deep breath before looking back at him. "How long?" she asked quietly.

Drahs’ grip tightened on the cup in his hands. His body tensed up even more than it had. "...Five days...at best..."

That seemed to do the trick. Her composed expression broke and she looked away again. "I'm sorry," she managed in a shaky tone as she ran a hand over her face. "W-what are doing out running around? You should at least be taking something for the pain." She regained a bit of her normal tone when speaking about something vaguely work related.

“Splint...gave me some painkillers. I've already gone through most of the batch. Look I should...I have some things I need to finish. I...was really hoping to avoid this conversation. I'm sorry.”

Her brows knit together at his statement. "You...what, you were going to..." she stared at him for a moment and then abruptly got out of her chair. She crossed to one of the cabinets that was locked and retrieved a bottle of painkillers. Sel went back to her seat, setting the bottle on the desk in front of him wordlessly.

Drahs sat there at a loss for words. His face pale and tired, deep lines running across his gaunt cheeks. He slowly turned to face the bottle. "You don't have to..."

“No, I don't, but I want to. I'm sure Splint has yelled at you enough for the both of us and...I'm not going to make you sit here and listen to someone mourn you. But we're friends, yes?”

“I'll be frank...you're one of the few and best I have left…”

Selise paused. "And I would say the same. So...you can understand my feelings on the matter if you were in my shoes."

Drahs coughed for a few moments. After his brief fit he took a deep breath. "I do..." He looked down at the blood staining the handkerchief. "...Can I confide in you Sel?"

“Of course.”

“I'm scared…”

“I know. Which part?”

Drahs leaned against the table once more. His gaze drifted to the wooden structure. "Not knowing what's going to happen when I pass. The lives I'm leaving behind. The..." He buried his head in his arms. "I...I don't know. I always figured I'd probably die but to go like this. The waiting. It's maddening.”

Selise reached out to place a hand on his arm, her grip tightened gently. "Don't wait, continue your daily routine. Take the medication. I can give you stronger if you need it, you don't have to feel pain through the process. And...if you're worried about the reactions of those you leave behind, about their feelings about it...that part can't be helped, but it will be okay. They will be okay."

Drahs gripped the cup in his hands and finally released it. He took in a deep breath, though that might've been a bad idea as it set him to coughing. "Thank you..." He sighed. "I have one last request to make."

Selise pulled her hand away with some reluctance. She nodded and did her best to continue in a normal tone. "Which is?"

“I don't want a funeral…”

“I...suppose I can understand that viewpoint. Do you want anything else done instead?”

He shook his head. "I'd say don't mourn, but I've been on the other side enough to know that'll never happen." He smiled weakly as he turned his head. "Try to celebrate my life instead of mourning my death?"

Selise forced a weak smile back, but her eyes held a different story, even if she didn't allow any tears to fall. "I will try, but you have to promise me something first."

“What's that?”

“Don't finish this alone. I know you might not feel comfortable here, but go to Splint, to another healer, to anyone. Please.”

“I...can only promise to try...I'm still a stubborn idiot after all.”

Selise shook her head. “I suppose that will have to do.”

Drahs pushed himself up with a grunt. He let out a few coughs. "Thanks for being here, Sel. I just wish I could've shown up in a more...dignified light. Never stop being kind, alright?"

Selise stood from her seat and picked the bottle up off the table. She moved around the chair to offer it out to him with a small smirk. "It is not the first time you've been dropped into my office..." She didn't want to complete the thought, but her mind did it for her anyway. "Two pills, every four hours. It's written on the bottle..." She just looked at him a moment, then moved to hug him. "Thank you for being my friend. I hope you finish what you want to."

Drahs took the bottle as she spoke. He chuckled as she made her commentary, but after the hug he finally broke fully. He squeezed her as tears rolled down his cheeks. "You as well Sel. Take care of yourself." It took more than he felt it should to finally release his grip and make his way out of the office.

Selise remained silent as her gaze drifted to the floor. She placed a hand on the back of the nearby chair to steady herself.

Written with @drahs Mentions @cherysaamberstill @laivindur

[occasionallydiverting]

Game Night

A commission for @bullfrogonthehorizon. Also on AO3.

The doorbell rang at a quarter past six, and Gerome grumbled as Laurent got up from the couch. “I thought we weren’t going to start until seven.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but…” Laurent tilted his head to the side, working out the stiffness in his neck. “I guess we’ll just have to ask why.” He opened the door.

“Yo.”

“Kjelle? You’re… very early.”

The tall girl rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. I probably should’ve texted you or something.”

“Well, you’re here now, so you may as well come in.” Laurent beckoned her inside. “So, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Homework,” said Kjelle, grimacing and shrugging off her backpack as Laurent closed the door after her. “I’ve been behind on turning in my trig assignments, and Coach Fred says I’ll have to sit out the next game if I don’t take care of it.”

Gerome rolled his eyes. “Typical of him.”

“Nothing quite like threatening to bench your star player to drive home the point about academics being more important than basketball,” said Laurent.

“Especially when our next game’s against Ferox West. Right now, they’re our main rival for regionals.”

“It’s things like this that make me glad I don’t care about sports,” said Gerome.

Kjelle snorted. “You say that, but I seem to remember you getting pretty worked up over that broadcast of--”

Gerome interrupted. “That’s because I like the team! Not the sport!”

“Sure.”

Laurent cleared his throat. “If you want to get anything done, Kjelle, we should probably start now.”

“Good point.”

For the next half-hour, Laurent walked Kjelle through the equations. Gerome ignored them both, popping in his earbuds and playing a game on his phone while he waited.

At ten minutes to seven, the doorbell rang again. “I’ll get it,” said Gerome. “See, Kjelle, this is when I thought you would be arriving…”

“Bite me.”

The door opened to Lucina and Severa, arm in arm. “Hey there, princesses.”

“You know I hate that nickname,” Severa grumbled as the pair stepped inside.

Lucina frowned. “I thought you liked it when I called you princess.”

“I-I mean, it’s fine if it’s you, but--”

“Oh my god get a room.”

“Is that you, Kjelle?” Lucina looked around Gerome, surprised. “I thought you’d be the last one to get here…”

“She needed help with her homework,” said Gerome smugly.

“Can it, you wannabe goth.”

“Wannabe?”

“Are we operating under the hypothesis that one must have participated in the sacking of Rome to be a true Goth?”

Severa scoffed. “Laurent, you complete and utter nerd.”

“Honestly, that probably applies to all of us,” said Lucina. “I mean, we did all come here to play D&D, right?”

“...Fair.”

Laurent straightened his glasses. “Have either of you heard from Brady? Usually he’s the one who shows up early.”

“You mean he’s not here yet? Huh.” Severa scratched at her cheek. “That’s unusual for him.”

“He probably got wrapped up in practicing his violin again and forgot to look at the clock,” said Kjelle. “That sort of thing is definitely usual.”

“The orchestra concert is only two weeks away,” Lucina pointed out. “And he’s the first chair, so practicing is a pretty big deal.”

“I just hope he remembers to eat and sleep,” said Laurent.

Gerome prodded his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Look who’s talking.”

“I think I’ve been pretty good about that lately.”

“It’s eat and sleep, not eat or sleep.”

“Okay, but one out of two is better than none…”

The doorbell rang again.

“Well, speak of the devil…”

Severa, standing closest to the door, pulled it open. “Hey, Brady.”

“Sorry I’m late…”

“You’re still five minutes early.”

“I mean, yeah, but I’d planned on showin’ up a little earlier than this…”

“Yes, how dare you keep us all waiting,” said Severa in an acidic tone of voice. “You’d better have a truly incredible excuse for such terrible manners.”

Brady held out a large plastic container. “I brought homemade cookies.”

“Holy shit, really?!” Kjelle’s jaw dropped as she stuck her head into the entryway. “Brady, you’re the best!”

“Geez, I wasn’t actually being serious…” Severa rubbed at the back of her neck with one hand. “Now I feel like an asshole.”

“That’s because you are one,” Gerome quipped.

“Oh, shut up.”

“At least she’s lovable,” Lucina said with a grin.

“You shut up, too!” Despite her annoyed tone, Severa was still blushing.

Laurent cleared his throat. “Now that we’re all here, we may as well get started, right?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Brady. “I’ve been lookin’ forward to this all week!”

With some more good-natured joshing, the six students settled in around the dining room table. Laurent set up his screen and whiteboard before taking out a marker and starting to sketch out the outlines of a hallway.

“When we left off, you had just entered the lair of the elder lich, Ikana.” His voice dropped into a storyteller’s cadence. “Cobwebs cling to the ceilings, and faintly glowing crystals offer the only illumination. The hallway extends straight ahead for as far you can see, fading into the distance…”

~ ~ ~

“Okay, I am super not liking this,” Severa muttered as she glared down at the board. They’d been playing for a few hours now, and most of the lich’s lair was mapped out on the board.

“Yeah, same here,” said Brady. “Ain’t there normally enemies in rooms like this?”

“That’s usually the case.” Gerome shrugged. “Though I’m not complaining about being able to save my spell slots.”

Currently, they were in a large room that Laurent had described as a decrepit dining hall. A massive pair of doors blocked off the far end of the room, but there were no obvious foes in sight.

“Luna’s gonna check for traps again,” said Severa, rolling. “That’s a… 27, total.”

“You do not detect any traps,” Laurent replied.

“That’s gotta be at least the tenth time you’ve done that, and you haven’t found a single thing.” Kjelle rolled her eyes. “He already told you there aren’t any traps.”

“He said I didn’t detect any. That’s a completely different thing.” Severa glared at Kjelle. “If you want, I can just give up on it and let you get blown up by whatever nasty stuff he’s hiding from us.”

“Hey, I’ve got plenty of hit points!” Kjelle looked over at Laurent. “I’m gonna move Sonja over to the doors and try to open them.”

“Clotho will come with you,” said Lucina. “Just in case you end up needing healing.”

“You know how much I love it when you lay hands on me,” said Kjelle with a wink.

“Oh my god, stop trying to seduce my girlfriend.”

“Why, Sev? Afraid it’ll work?”

Severa grabbed a cookie and took a big bite out of it before speaking through a full mouth. “You’re awful, you know?”

“I know.” Kjelle looked over at Laurent. “All right, do I have to roll for anything?”

“Make a strength check.”

The die clattered across the table. “18.”

“You push against the doors, and they slowly but surely begin to budge. You can hear the hinges screeching as accumulated rust impedes their movement.”

“Probably should get ready, just in case somethin’ nasty’s on the other side,” said Brady.

“I’ll detect evil.” Lucina looked over at Laurent. “Do I sense anything?”

“There’s a powerful evil aura on the other side of the door--more powerful than anything you’ve sensed before. You can’t tell if it’s from one source, or multiple.”

“Probably the lich,” said Gerome. “I’ll have Ylir start readying a fireball for when the door’s far enough open.”

“I’ll, uh…” Brady scratched at his scalp. “Guess Kote'll start playing music to inspire courage, if we’re settin’ up for a fight.”

“Luna will duck into a corner and wait for--ah, shit, never mind.” said Severa. She sighed. “Stupid undead and their stupid sneak attack immunity. She’ll just find a safe spot to settle in and draw out her shortbow.”

“That leaves Sonja and Clotho on the front line.” Kjelle grinned at Lucina. “Think we’re up to it?”

“I doubt that turning undead will work on these guys,” said Lucina. “So we’ll just have to destroy them the old-fashioned way.”

“A heavy flail to the face? Simple. I like it.”

Laurent cleared his throat. “The doors open fully, and you see Ikana standing in front of a throne, flanked by two undead knights. The lich’s voice echoes to you: ‘Come, and die, like all before you!’”

The other five blinked as Laurent snapped his laptop shut. “And I think we’ll wrap up there for the night.”

“You’re friggin’ kidding me!” Brady put his head in his hands. “Just when we were getting all hyped up for the boss fight, too?”

“You realize it’s almost midnight, right?”

Brady looked up at the clock and winced. “Aw, crap, you’re right. I oughtta get going, or I’ll hear it from Ma.”

Severa snorted. “My mother probably doesn’t even realize I’ve been out, but I suppose I should get back anyway.”

Lucina pushed her chair back and sighed with contentment. “That was fun. Thanks, everyone. Same time next week?”

Laurent nodded, smiling. “That’s the plan.”

[kaorei-endgame]

Game of the Year 2017 #2: Divinity Original Sin 2

The first Original Sin had one of those video game “issues” that’s only really an issue if you let it be. About six hours in, you’d figured out there were about a thousand ways to crowd controlling your enemies: stuns, knockdowns, charms, fears. With the availability, and reliability, of these attacks, battles often broke down to your mages/archers CCing everything on the battlefield while your warrior dismantled them one by one. This felt exceptionally mean--sadism in video game form--and somewhat abusive of the game mechanics, but combat was so often weighed so directly against you that “cheating” by charming half an enemy squad and letting them rough each other up, or depleting half a gigantic orc boss’s health before combat even starts by teleporting a poison barrel directly onto his face, was really more about evening the odds. Original Sin is one of those games, like Final Fantasy Tactics, maybe, where there’s a billion ways to break it. Unlike Final Fantasy Tactics, you don’t feel bad about it because, from behind a still-growing pile of saves and reloads, you know the game is happy to return your cheesy, scummy tactics in kind.

This is a co-op RPG I’ve been playing with Graz for 120+ hours, according to steam, and we still haven’t finished. It is, among Dark Souls, and Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes (Fast Karate GOTY, 2015), and Resident Evil 5, one of the best co-op experiences of my life.

You can play a skeleton, who has to walk around in disguise to stop everyone from murdering them, and has no need for lock picks because they can simply use, and I quote, their “bony fingers.” The elves are not only cannibals, but they’re cannibals that absorb the memories of their meals, which is sometimes used to learn new skills and sometimes used to solve murder mysteries. Maybe forty hours into the game, I realized this “being forced to experience a living creature’s final moments every time you eat meat” was probably created as an explanation of generic fantasy elves’ earth-mother veganism.

Near the beginning of the game a black cat starts following you around. If you have the Pet Pal talent you can talk to him and he just seems like... drunk? He doesn’t really have anything to say, but he doesn’t go away. If you walk through poison he’ll follow you and get poisoned too and he only has like 50 health so you’re always frantically trying to heal him because the friendly cat who does nothing except meow at me can never die. If you keep him alive throughout the whole opening zone, which also involves keeping him away from fires and superstitious guards who will shoot him on sight, his head clears and he joins your party as a summon.

Also the whole time he’s following you around, there’s this dog who won’t talk to you since he hates cats. But the cat follows you in real time, so if you go to a distant part of the zone and then teleport back to the central hub, the cat is briefly separated from you while it paths around the map to your location, and you can get the dog’s quest to find his missing girlfriend.

There is borderline erotica at one point where, if it’s not explicitly described, the game at least puts the mind worm of “lizard man cunnilingus” in your head. And like... well...............

Also there’s another dog later who’s like an evil pet of an eviler grave robber and he refers to himself as Artax: Death Incarnate or something and after you kill him you can use your recently acquired Spirit Vision power to talk to/throw shade at his ghost, being like “...death incarnate, eh...? :) :) :) :) :)” But it’s kind of wasted because even as a ghost (dog (way of the samurai)) he still thinks he’s pretty hot shit.

There are premade characters who have different dialogue tags, most of which seem to amount to jack shit, like almost any RPG with dialogue trees, but the one I picked, Lohse, is some sort of psychic medium who spirits would just hang out in, which was fun until a really bad demon got into her. Sometimes the really bad demon makes her do things that are completely out of her control, like try to murder an elf who’s trying to help you exorcise him, and isn’t it your favorite thing when games present you with a bunch of false dialogue options?

You start Divinity 2 a political prisoner. Unlike Skyrim, where you’re bound for the chopping block and then five minutes later someone’s telling you you’re a god, Divinity sits you on its prison island for something to the tune of 30 hours (then it tells you, more or less, that you’re a god). Because you have a collar on that restricts your scary magic powers, your overconfident jailers basically let you have the run of the place. You are hemmed in just enough to feel your yoke, and much of the early doings is learning where you may and may not go, and which places, just outside of your captor’s line of sight, are okay to seek out dirty business (i.e.: steal a few valuable paintings from). 

So you poke at all the nooks and crannies of this just-right sized zone, retrieving gloves of teleportation from the stomachs of hungry lizards, helping that dog find his girlfriend, and making painstaking progress on your escape. This is a tight, interesting area, far better than any of those in the first Original Sin, where there’s not even all that much combat. You bum around with a bunch of prisoners, some of whom certain party members have vendettas against/want to murder, but most of whom are like... chill old ladies that sell you water spells and will give you a free scroll if you give them a shoulder to cry on. Eventually, you kill the mob boss (but don’t let me see you laying a finger on Butter). If you’re a really good person, you kill all the magisters--who are basically the cops of the magic world--on the way out the door.

Boy oh boy, the jump in writing/world texture/everything from the last game. The move from “aggressively generic fairy tale stuff” to “moderately generic CRPG world” doesn’t put the writing in Witcher territory or nothing, but it’s much easier to appreciate the quirks of the setting, which holds strange sidequests where you help a bunch of thousand-year-old wizards who have been cursed to for all eternity to be both 1) pigs 2) pigs who are on fire, when you aren’t dealing voice acting that seems to be literally on purpose trying to kill you.

I’m of two minds about the changes to combat. Now characters have magical/physical “armor” that acts as a Halo-style rechargeable shield, protecting character’s vitality and also making them immune to status effects. Since most enemies have as much armor as they do health, that means they’re half dead by the time they’re vulnerable to being sleeped/charmed/whatever, and so crowd control has substantially depleted in value. Which mutes some of the “controlled chaos” feel of the first game--kind of a let down--but does tacitly nudge you into trying out the rest of the game’s broad spreadsheet of abilities, such as a teleport jump for fighters that sprays fire all over the landing zone, or a summoner’s ability to conjure an Inner Demon which both terrifies her opponents AND punches enemies that come into melee range with gigantic purple mind fists (essentially, we have been given Star Platinums of our very own).

And the uncontrolled chaos, where you laugh at the idiot NPC wasting its turn casting Rain until the next NPC sprays the area with lightning bolts and stuns half your crew, where you forget that the whole room is one big oil surface before you do your flaming teleport jump and now everyone in the room is on fire, or a giant Dune worm erupts out of the ground right in the middle of your boss fight and your enemies start attacking it instead and you’re like “.....so are we friends now?” and it’s like haha, nope, they still fuckin’ hate your guts and this battle just got even stupider and twice as long, so I hope you brought healing potions.

If anything, these changes have the unique effect of making me seriously consider playing this 100+ hour monster game that requires 100% of your attention and thought processes at all time (okay so sometimes I checked in on Fire Emblem on my phone during Graz’s turns, but that’s a given) sometime before the next decade. I suspect higher difficulties return a lot of weight to crowd control abilities.

Even though I know Baldur’s Gate has co-op, I didn’t think they could make a game like this. A gigantic, fully featured co-op CRPG where the other player doesn’t have to tolerate being a henchman at best. Where you can both run around talking to whomever you want and progressing quests however you feel like, and then come back together twenty minutes later to compare notes. Where you spend 3+ hours over two days on a single battle, reviewing plays and planning out turns like a pair of football coaches, micro-managing which of you is going to “waste” their turns conscientiously teleporting a friendly, but foolhardy, NPC out of harm’s way (or turning him into a chicken) so he’ll stop trying to impale himself on the NECRO-TENTACLE FIRE that you discovered, in this very battle, spurts out of every oily blob from the void beyond space after their death. And what’s that, four turns in the fire blobs start spawning?

Moreover, though every part of Divinity seems stupid, ramshackle, and tied together with twine, it’s often one step ahead of you. Regular attacks are governed only by cooldowns, but the most powerful spells are restricted by an MP-stand-in called “source” (still, charmingly, pronounced close enough to “sauce”). A difficult resource to replenish, we rarely used source abilities early in the game. But a couple hours after it came to a head, and I started saying “you know, I’m getting a little sick of teleporting back to the giant Source juice box in the hidden basement of this lady’s house every time I want to use Black Shroud,” and was decrying how if they replenished your Source after every fight, making it a per-battle resource, the game would be much more interesting they... give you an ability that functionally does that, and combat becomes much more interesting, on the exact right timeline for me to understand what I’ve gained with this power, having been frustrated for so long by its absence.

I gave up on trying to describe this game concisely. I’m not sure there’s a way to do so, when its whole ethos is jury-rigging systems onto systems and throwing weird events at you constantly and the whole thing chugs along like it was meant to be--damn, it never even crashed until I tried to install a mod. At the strange intersection between narrative and mechanics this game presents, if you think about it, you can almost always do it. You can skip an entire hedge maze by teleporting through its portcullises. If it’d take too long to loot a chest in plain sight of its owner, you can use your Polymorph abilities to turn invisible, pick it up, and send it to the inventory of your lockpicker, waiting outside. You can go upstairs at a bordello. When you wake up, predictably, you’re naked and being robbed. Only, oops, the robbers didn’t reckon your friends would have a magical teleportation pyramid locked onto your signal. 

In the same town, this maid crying about losing her owner’s purse robs you, and if you’re sympathetic about it and give her a hug when she asks, she picks your pocket, and the only way you’d know about it is if you check your gold total after the conversation because, let’s be real, she was acting super sketch. I mean damn, the game somehow makes scrolls, the categorical worst item class in all western RPGs, worthwhile. Who wants a one-use item when you can just learn the spell forever? Until the first time you come to truly understand that a short 3-turn cooldown in “Divinity Time” could be the better part of an hour, and therefore a hundred and twenty seven gold for an Armor of Frost scroll is a small price to pay for peace of mind when The Red Prince needs an extra dose of magical armor like right now. 

And for all the ways you can bring ruin upon your enemies, all the stupid tricks and techniques that really shouldn’t work but somehow always do, the thing that actually breaks the game? The item that made us look at each other and go “we should probably never use this item again if we want to keep having fun.”

Green Tea.

Conservatively, 200+ hours of my life has gone to these games, and when this one is over, I’ll still feel like it wasn’t enough.

[lesbian-nautica]

Your opinions on the newest issue? How do you feel about the sequel lost light in general?

Under a cut because BOY THIS GOT LONG AND SALTY

Alright so. Y’all remember that 2 hour video on why Sherlock is terrible? If you haven’t, go watch it, it’s great, but it brings up a very important point: Moffat is not a bad writer when he’s writing short things, or one-offs, or in tandem with another writer, it’s when he’s given full control over everything that he starts being suck-ass at his job.

In order to really understand what exactly is wrong with Lost Light, let’s take a moment to look back at mtmte. MTMTE was basically the renaissance of Transformers comics, as it brought in a whole new slew of people who otherwise wouldn’t be reading comics about robots. MTMTE had the perfect mix of plot and character, never (well occasionally but sparingly) sacrificing one for the other. You can see characters mature, see them grow, see things affect them, see them occasionally lose a nose because Milne drew an issue, etc. We all love MTMTE because even with its faults…..its many faults……it’s a good comic. It’s a great comic.

Which brings me back to the Moffat comparison. I’m not saying JRO is a bad writer-yes I am, but like, I’ll give him a break for one minute, okay-he was given creative control around the last quarter of MTMTE, and told to bring it to a close or whatever (where did Milne even vanish too. Where is he. Find him). You start to get a real suspension of disbelief, but at first, we were all okay with it, because at first read, it looks like Megatron was being handled well-and he was! I’ll admit, even I fell for it, that charming idea that even Megatron isn’t immune to the charm of living life on the Lost Light, that he too changes with it. The end of MTMTE was a little bit of bullshit, a genuinely well-written moment, severe hearache for soundad, and then…..the last issue is just catching up with Fort Max and Red Alert and Prowl. It’s actually a better place to cut off mtmte than the end of that last bullshit arc, because the end of that issue is the final reminder of the tone that MTMTE had-that tone of life as a thing worth living, even if it’s small, that tone of people learning to get over the past and move toward the future, the world ahead being both bleak and yet intriguing, stuff like that. It’s not surprise why Prowl shows up, I’d pay to have a whole series on Fort Max and Prowl dealing with their shit.

And that was the end. We all went through withdrawals, we NEEDED those gay robots flying around through space, how would we live without them?? Not to worry!! JRO is writing a sequel!!! YAY!!!!

LL1 actually had me sold on how it was gonna go down, because LL1 still feels (at least to me) like mtmte. I didn’t mind the art so much (background characters still look like they all need saving oh god) but the first issue was good. There were even LESBIANS in it!!! Lost Light gave me in thirty seconds what Transformers hadn’t given me in thirty years, some LESBIANS!! So we all looked at the lesbians and grinned, and got a good chuckle out of Blueberry Rodimus, and out of Brainstorm, and out of Nightbeat, and we all felt sad for Rung, and so on, and so on. We got obsessed with the little moments of mtmte that lost light was still giving us, especially during those first issues.

I’d like to say and then lost light four happened and we all realized this was bad, but no, we were all trapped and willing to stretch our bullshit tolerance to spare the fact that Lost Light was doing…so much wrong. It sacrificed characters for plot (i’m not even talking in the literal sense yet but we’ll get to that), it had too many plots happening at once, and then the plots had to just STOP because there was too much happening, none of it could hit emotionally because there was just too much trying to make itself investing.

And then lost light five happened and half of us realized what was happening, the other half hit up my inbox bragging about how they were right for guessing the Lug thing since I had been so hopeful and avid against that bullshit but who cares I guess you being right is better than the fact Lug fucking DIED, okay.

And then lost light six happened and we FINALLY all fucking realized the big problems with Lost light, and started to be like “wait no, no stop, wait, not this, stop it JRO” but it was too damn late, JRO was alone at the controls of a train he either didn’t know how to smoothly drive or fully intended to ram into a wall.

And then, Lost Light seven became JRO slamming that train right into a wall. Because Lost light seven, for all its cute moments and lesbian interactions, for all its fun little dialogue bits and promise to keep to one plot and just move that one forward, for all this and all that, it ends as an absolute train wreck. Not only did it LITERALLY BURY A GAY, it also destroyed a character most relatable to the reader-the character who had been out of the loop, so he could ask questions to simple things that new readers wouldn’t know, the one someone absolutely new to the franchise could easily relate to, and also the ship’s damn adorable mascot. It doesn’t matter now, if Rodimus gets his ship back, because……look at his squad. All their character was buried with Tailgate, who was buried FOR NO FUCKING REASON.

So here’s my real beef with JRO, flat out. He thinks that just because he brings gay characters back means he can kill them without us criticizing because hey, he brought them back!! Nevermind the fact he killed them, they’re back tho!!! Nevermind the fact he lets Megatron go free without ever facing justice for what he’s done, don’t worry about it, fucking GETAWAY am I right??? Literally sacrifices one gay relationship before he’ll stop making tragic lesbian relationship? Psssha, no, his characterization of Cyclonus in Lost Light is PERFECTLY THE SAME AS MTMTE, how dare you point out that Cyclonus would’ve told Tailgate the truth much sooner, how dare you point out that Tailgate has been turned into an asshole for no other reason than JRO needed him to be one so he could kill him, because JRO apparently can’t write a comic without killing all the gay ones while also letting fucking MEGATRON get away scott free.

TLDR? I think JRO has been given more than he can chew, so he’s spitting it out onto the floor and calling it art.

[teddyvelvetz]

A fic for @chemosynthelich. Hope you feel better. 

I have no clue what I was going for with this? Funny yet kinda sad/sweet? I dunno. I like Rose interacting with Felix. 

Ps. Wrote this in an hour so probably littered with mistakes. Hope you enjoy it anyways.

Rex did not want to be here. He wanted to leave and was angry at his mother for dragging him along. Even at only age five, Rex knew true fear every time he saw his mother’s mentor. Waiting in the elevator to reach his room was torture.

“Rex, sweetheart, if your face gets any longer, it’ll touch your knees,” Rose giggled.

Rex felt his face subconsciously in reply to his mother’s words. It didn’t feel any longer. Rose gave her son a weak smile.

“It’s a saying, Rexy, I promise,” Rose assured her son with a tussle to his dark brown dreads. Rex looked like a mirror image of his father with his dark skin and hair. It seemed like the only things he inherited from Rose were large blue eyes and a timid personality.

“oh. Alright,” Rex grumbled, fiddling with the blue jay feathers laced in his dreads. The charm had been made by Beyal. It was supposed to be good luck, but he couldn’t see any luck in being stuck with visiting the coldest human being he ever knew every Wednesday.

“Looks like we’re here!” Rose cheered. The medic pulled out a key card and slid it into the lock of Felix’s door.

With a click, the room opened up. Not a beat later an empty box of cigarettes hit the wall next to Rose’s head. Rex squeaked in fear and hid behind his mother, grabbing onto her flower print dress tightly. His living nightmare hobbled lazily from the kitchenette wearing a black turtleneck and black sweatpants.

“Dumb bitch,” Felix growled “, you don’t even knock anymore.”

“Good to see you too, Felix,” was Rose’s only reply.

Rex thought Felix was either a ghost or on the verge of death every time they visited. Felix’s skin was the shade of paper, but lately it’d gained an eerie, green undertone. His silver eyes were lined with wrinkles from stress and irritation. Similar wrinkles lined the old medic’s mouth. Felix’s thin, tall form loomed over him and Rose ominously. Rex felt like he was in a trance until his mother hugged the old man. Felix rolled his eyes, but hugged back.

Rose turned to her son. “You wanna hug grandpa, Rex?”

Rex only whimpered and clung to Rose’s dress tighter. Felix raised a white eyebrow out of curiosity. After an awkward minute, the old medic let out a tired sigh.

“Nothing like his father,” Felix grumbled “, at that age Dax at least had the balls to kick me in the shins and scream obscenities.”

Rose nervously laughed. “Sorry Felix, it’s just that Rex can be a little nervous.”

“He’s been nervous for five years,” Felix said with a hollow chuckle. The old man’s eyes narrowed. “And didn’t I tell you to stop with the “grandpa” thing. I was a stepdad to your husband. Nothing more.”

Rose could feel Rex shivering next to her. Today was going to be just as hard as usual. Hold patience, dear Rose. She managed to untangle Rex from her skirt and over to a couch to color. Then she went to work on Felix. His health had begun to decline slightly over the past few years. The radiation and Monsuno essence was beginning to effect his immune system so Rose made it her mission to come every Wednesday to check up on the man she admired.

“Alright, old man,” Rose teased “, let’s get your vitals.”

Rex watched with interest as Rose worked on Felix. He’d been interested in his mother’s job since he could conceive his own thoughts. Rose checked Felix’s blood pressure, eyes, throat, and reflexes with ease. The older adult kept rolling his eyes and complaining that he was being treated like a child. Rose recorded her data in a notebook and relaxed on the couch next to Felix, catching up on the S.T.O.R.M base’s gossip. Rex grew quickly bored and silently slipped off the couch.

Felix’s apartment was boring, but Rex believed the old man must have something interesting to look at. Felix’s house had a bird theme going on. Paintings ranging from dainty small birds to large raptors hung on the walls. A dozen glass birds lined a shelf. His plates even had roosters on them! What was with the old man and birds?

Rex wandered into Felix’s room. It immediately radiated the feeling of “Stay the Hell out”, but the five year old couldn’t hold back his curiosity. The room smelled at like old person and baby powder. Rex quickly found out the baby powder smell was coming from Felix’s vanity. The vanity was pink and worn down. The mirror was cracked in one bottom corner. Makeup covered the vanity’s surface. Rex couldn’t tell what color the top of the vanity was, but he assumed pink. The makeup was odd, but Rex didn’t think it was any of his business to question his so-called grandfather’s hobbies.

The five year old flopped onto Felix’s king sized bed. He felt exhausted. The drive from Rose’s base to the S.T.O.R.M base was so long and tiring. He remembered Felix living with them for a time along with Uncle Ross and Uncle Systemmac, but dad convinced his mom that Felix was too sick and needed to return to S.T.O.R.M to be monitored. Rex had a blurry memory of his mother clinging to Felix and sobbing.

Rex shook off the memory and began to notice the pictures on Felix’s bedside table. He didn’t know the cranky medic owned non-bird pictures. Rex gently lifted each picture to examine them. One was of what he could assume an infinitely younger Felix with a younger Ms. Delilah, another person his mother admired way too much for his taste. It looked like the two friends had just gone fishing, each kid holding a line with trout dangling from it. Another was of Felix embracing a woman that looked like Rex’s father. It must be the grandma he never got to meet. Next to that was a picture of Felix, the woman, Uncle Systemmac, Dax, and Uncle Daedalus, another relative that died before Rex was even conceived. Felix looked like he had so much more color and he was a blonde at one point. What the heck happened?

Then, Rex got to the pictures of Felix and his mother. It startled him to see a younger version of his mom sometimes. Her scars looked so fresh that it looked like the muscle in her face was fully exposed. Not to mention she used to have long hair without the white streak in her bangs. One photo was of Rose and Felix shaking hands. Felix’s eyes were even colder looking than they were now. ‘Working with the new kid’ was scribbled on the corner. Another was of Rose and Felix holding a chicken. Felix’s expression was still a frown, but he looked softer and had a warm glow in his eyes. Rex remembered his mom talking about the chicken. Its name was ‘Sunny’. A third picture showed Felix and Rose with the full Rabbit Bones faction. His mother looked to be the cold one this time, Felix standing dutifully to one side and Six on the other. Rose didn’t like telling the story about her faction, but she promised to tell him when he was older. Rex smiled brightly at the next photo he picked up. It was from his parents’ wedding. Poppop (Jon Ace) and Felix were embracing Rose while Dax stood to the side laughing. Felix had a smile on his face. Rex didn’t think Felix was even capable of that emotion. Rex almost dropped the last photo after glancing at it. It was of Felix sitting in a hospital bed next to Rose. The pale man was smiling down at a newly born Rex. One of Rex’s tiny hands wrapped around a long finger. Felix’s face was filled with pure love and caring, with a slightly nervous undertone.

Rex was beginning to feel like he understood his mother’s friendship with this man a little better now.  A gruff voice snapped the five year old out of his thoughts.

“Having fun,” Felix stood in the doorway, arms crossed and looking down at Rex with an expectant look.

Rex’s eyes widened in fear as Felix approached the bed. The medic crouched to be at eye level with Rex, joints crackling with strain. “It seems you found my old photos,” Felix mumbled. “Good times I say. Hope I can make a few more.”

Felix held out his hand. Rex looked up at him in confusion. “Let’s go back to the living room. Your mom is wondering where you ran off to.”

Rex nodded his head, dazed. His small hand was engulfed by the medic’s much larger one. Rex braced himself for a rough grasp, but was surprised to find Felix’s grasp was gentle and caring. The boy quietly followed Felix back to the living room.

“There you are,” Rose cooed, pulling Rex into her lap. Rex instinctively clung to his mom and buried his head into her shoulder. “Thank you, Felix.”

Felix shrugged. “No problem. He was in my room not minding his own damn business.” The usual coldness crept back into Felix’s voice.

Rose nervously laughed. “He must have gotten bored and wandered off. Rex is usually well behaved.”

She was met with another half-hearted shrug. Felix thankfully did not appear mad to Rose. An awkward silence passed between them. The older medic looked up at the sound of Rose clearing her throat.

“What?” he smirked “, I haven’t seen you this nervous around me since we first met. Spit it out already.”

“I was just thinking…,” Rose began.

“Never a good thing,” scoffed the old man.

Rose stuck her tongue out at Felix earning a chuckle from the pale male before continuing. “I was thinking, since Rex is interested in being a medic, that when he’s ten you could start training him?”

Felix and Rex’s jaws dropped. Was Rose really trying to put them together like this?

“Why can’t you teach him?” challenged Felix. “Like mother, like son, and I am damn sure not the mother.”

“Well, Ryu began teaching me at fifteen. He was older and had a lot more experience. He was a good teacher.” Rose gave Felix that familiar annoying look of admiration at him. “I really think you two could learn from one another.”

“Didn’t Ryu force you to kill a deer and find a use for all its body parts?” Felix countered.

Rose shrugged. “I dunno. Besides that traumatic experience, Ryu was pretty cool.”

“But I-,” Felix began.

“No buts Felix. I’m not going to let you sit in your apartment and waste away. You’re going to do something with what time you have left. You can start right now by preparing. You have five years, Felix. Tick Tock.”

Rex’s eyes met Felix’s. For the first time ever the young boy could see they felt the same: a wish to be struck dead at this very moment.

[mrsbenedictbridgerton]

Off The Menu

The kitchen was too small for two chefs: especially when one was an arrogant flirt who was after HER job.

Also on FF.NET and AO3

@chasingawaythefoosa wanted a chef au. Part of my series of tropey fics that I’m currently working on (open for more prompts for a little longer).

I got totally carried away and this ended up 4.7k. Oops.

Killian Jones had a lazy smirk, perfectly disheveled hair, questionably tight dark jeans and a way of undressing you with his eyes that was all too appealing when one’s guard was down. Not that Emma Swan ever let her guard down around him. From the moment she met him she saw him for what he was: an arrogant skirt chaser who was also chasing her job.

When Archie Hopper, head chef and owner of ‘Archibald’s’ had announced that he would be taking on a another sous chef, Emma had been furious. She’d spent three years working her ass off to climb the hierarchy at Boston’s best French restaurant, sacrificing anything resembling a social life to achieve her dream of culinary success. Six months ago when she had been promoted to second in command she’d been elated.

The next step would be her own kitchen. She knew if she continued to show her dedication that Archie would notice; he’d already hinted about opening another restaurant and she knew she had a shot at the head chef position.

But when Archie had formally revealed the opening of another outlet on the other side of town, instead of looking to hire (or promote) another executive chef, he instead employed a second sous chef to work at the original restaurant and began to split his time between the two businesses. Which was completely demoralizing when she was the one who should be in charge. To make matters worse her new ‘co-chef’ (as Archie had called them) was an arrogant Brit who thought he knew everything about French cuisine;‘I’m European, darling,” he would drawl.  In addition, he was an incorrigible flirt and he spent far too much time with the waitresses - and waiters.

And, yes, maybe he cooked the perfect risotto - a dish she had never fully mastered- but that was nowhere near enough to redeem him in her eyes.

Their cagey working relationship first came to a head the weekend before Columbus Day, when Chef Jones had been in situ for six weeks and Chef Swan had spent her time keeping as far away as possible from him. But then he messed with her soup.

“Ruby, is that a new lipstick?” he purred as he stirred through a vat of beef stew. The head waitress was walking past him, the usual swing in her step pausing as she spun to face him.

“How observant,” she said, cocking out her hip. “It’s called ‘Ravishing Red.”

Emma watched as his eyes flickered over Ruby’s just-this-side-of-acceptably-tight uniform before he took a step closer. She scowled, wishing a shift could go by where he didn’t have to get overly friendly with the staff.

“My, now that is appropriate.”

Ruby’s grin was growing wider and Emma wanted to walk away… until she saw the precious pot of stew begin to bubble over.

“Jesus Jones, can you flirt on your own time?”

She marched over and turned down the dial of the gas hob, taking a small seed of satisfaction at the way he flinched and jumped back from the cooker. She took the spoon from his hand and checked to see the stew hadn’t burnt.

“Why Swan, I’d flirt with you any time. You just have to ask.”

Ruby laughed lightly before shaking her head at Emma and walking away. Emma made a mental note to talk to her later about her uniform and then turned back to Killian. She hoped the blank look she gave him was answer enough to his question. In the kitchen, she was the only woman yet to fall for his charms. Even Belle, their patissiere and usually a very savvy woman was not immune to a flutter of his eyelids when he was trying to sneak out a spare desert.

“Now I have your attention,” she continued, “I actually wanted to ask you, why has the soup been changed?”

He grinned, nonchalantly folding his arms. “Oh, so this avoiding me thing is over now?”

Emma gave him a confused look.

“I’m not stupid, Swan. A man knows when he is being shunned by a beautiful woman. You may think that splitting the kitchen into two sections would have pulled the wool over my eyes but I know a ruse when I see one.”

Quickly, she folded her arms. “Fine. I’ve been avoiding you. But you have not been avoiding my soup, and you know that department is in my section of the kitchen.”

“Hmm,” he nodded, sticking out his chin to mirror her posture. “Your soup was dull. I thought mine was better.”

“The garbure has been on the menu for weeks.”

“Which is why we needed a change.”

“And tourin was that change? All that garlic will not sit well with the duck.” She rolled her eyes in exasperation before continuing, “Did Archie approve this?”

Killian ran a hand over his thick layer of stubble and smiled. “Hopper always approves of my judgement.”

(No one - no one called Archie ‘Hopper’. Ever.)

“Hmm, really? So if I put in a call to him over at The Cricket, he’ll be au fait with that?”

Then she saw his expression falter a little. But he recovered just as quickly.

“Why of course.”

“Fine,” she quipped. “I’ll call him now.”

“You do that.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

If looks could kill, she was pretty sure that Killian would have been dead in seconds by the ferocity of the stare she was giving him. Eyeball to eyeball (even with a five-inch height difference), staring right into those kitchen-famous baby blues. She would not back down. She would not blink. She would not start counting those luscious dark lashes that she was just a little jealous of.

/

(He looked away first.)

/

Archie didn’t know.

(But he liked Jones’ idea for the soup and they ran with it.)

One-nil to Jones.

/

The restaurant would be closed on Thanksgiving, so Emma had let the staff leave a little earlier than usual that Wednesday, offering to finish clearing the remains of the service.They worked such long hours that it was just a little something she could give them to show they were appreciated. Once she had finished the last of the nightly chores, she holed herself up in the small administration office at the back of the kitchen with a notepad, a delivery list and a copy of the menu that was meant to be debuting that Friday… but wasn’t because of a huge fuck up with their suppliers meaning that the seasonal ingredients they needed were not going to be available in sufficient quantities. Meaning half the dishes needed to be tweaked or completely reworked.

She was hunched over the menu, the office dark apart from the stark halogen bulb of the old-fashioned reading light that illuminated the workspace. Cross referencing each item against the revised order list was time consuming but it wasn’t like she had any grand plans for the holiday that she was being kept away from.

There was a sharp little rap at the door. Glancing up, she saw it was Killian. She’d forgotten he was still there. Or maybe she’d hoped he’d already gone.

“I’m about to head off, you okay to lock up?”

She nodded, mumbling non-committedly as her eyes begun to blur over the figures.

“Problem, love?”

“Just a little menu rotation.”

He took a step into the room.

“I can help-”

Her eyes snapped to meet his. “I don’t need your help, Jones. I’m more than capable.”

His jaw went loose and his hand went to rub against his neck. “I never said you weren’t.”

With a snort, she dropped the pen she was holding with a haughty shrug of her shoulders. “Could have fooled me.”

He approached the desk, walking as he always did in that predatory way where his hips moved first, before he planted his hands onto the oak surface.

“You know, Swan, if you gave me a chance we could be a great team.”

“I don’t need a partner.”

He smirked, his lips raising on one side, giving her the smoothest look. “Actually, love, a partner is probably something you could really make use of.” The way he said ‘partner’ was so salacious she almost blushed at the innuendo. He’d never really tried to flirt with her but he sure seemed to be now. She fueled the heat of the blush into a sharp retort.

“Oh, and you fit the bill?”

His reply was an irreverent shrug. Damn, he seemed to think he could just snap his fingers and women’s panties would drop, she thought.

Emma gritted her teeth. “Here’s the thing Jones, if there is one thing I can tell you about Archibald’s, it’s that I am off the menu. For you.”

“Hmph,” he nodded, tilting his head so he could see the paperwork in front of her before she could cover it with her hands. Then he pulled back, standing tall again, giving her a perfect view of the way his jeans hugged his hips. “Well that is a pity.”

She looked away before the urge to stare overcame her. “Goodnight Jones.”

“Goodnight Swan.” A few steps towards the door, he seemed to think better of it, pausing and turning back. “You know love, mackerel would work much better than halibut.”

She ignored him.

/

Fuck, he was right.

She substituted the mackerel.

He didn’t mention it.

/

The period from Thanksgiving to Christmas was, as normal, pretty much a whirlwind. Working six days a week, 13 hours a day was something she had gotten used to over the years but it never got any easier.

Archie was spending more and more time at The Cricket as the new venue really came into its own with its fusion of French and American fare. Emma had felt a little puff of pride when Archie had stipulated that she was to have the final say on decisions in his absence, but in reality that meant paperwork and arguing back and forth with their delivery service- neither task being her forte.

There were dozens of Christmas party bookings coming up in the week that led to the day itself and Emma had been left with the task of double checking the stock of non-perishables. While she would rather be getting prep done for the night ahead, she instead found herself atop a none-too sturdy step ladder counting boxes of risotto rice.

“Need a hand?”

She took a deep breath. Killian. Again. He had this awfully bad habit of discovering her whereabouts when she was not in the mood for his verbal jousting.

She schooled her features into a scowl. “Not from you.”

“Ooohhh, so hostile.” he hummed.

She twisted back on the ladder, keeping a firm hold onto it with one hand. “You should be used to it by now. Why don’t you go expend your efforts on one of your fan club members. Or have you worked your way through them already?”

“Come again?”

“Come on. I’m not blind. I’ve seen the flirting.”

He seemed to toss that thought around in his mind for a moment. “You seem to have the complete wrong impression of me, lass.”

“I can only go on what I’m given,” she shrugged before trying to return to her task.

But her feet did not want to cooperate. Her shoes (oh-so-practical Crocs) were hygienic but not maneuverable and suddenly her foot was catching on the rung of the ladder, her shoe was flying off and she was falling.

In the instant panic of feeling the earth move from beneath her, Emma didn’t have time to scream. Instead, she froze, her body tensing in anticipation of an impact. An impact that didn’t happen. Instead she landed firmly in Killian’s outstretched arms.

He groaned softly. One of his arms had found its way around her waist, the other around one of her legs. It was an awkward catch to be sure, but certainly less perilous than landing on the floor with all the injuries that could afford. For a second, they were still. She could hear his breathing at her neck and the firmness of his chest where he was holding her against him. The shock of the fall combined with his current closeness was disconcerting and the racing of her heart was difficult to affix a cause to. A moment passed by where both seemed frozen in position. Until Emma shook her head and reminded herself just who was currently manhandling her.

“Um, thanks,” she mumbled, (suddenly quite aware of just how close his hand was to her ass).

Gently, he lowered her to the ground, her feet landing in front of his, one bare of its shoe. Slowly she turned to face him. His eyes scanned over her - but not in the way she saw him eye up Ruby when she wore a particularly tight shirt.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes full of genuine concern.

“Just my pride,” she shrugged. Then she swallowed some of her remaining pride, “If you hadn’t have been there-”

“Well, I was. And maybe it was a little my fault.”

“Oh?”

“I distracted you.”

He was certainly distracting her now. Somehow in the store room's dim light, his attractiveness was even more evident. In the time they had worked together, she hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on his handsome face, or the blueness of his eyes, or the way he just held himself so confidently. Finding reasons to dislike him had superseded that. Now though it was difficult, his presence almost hypnotic at this proximity. She was almost able to understand his sway among the ladies who she worked with.

Emma shrugged, giving her best appearance of indifference,  “Yeah. I guess you did.”

Conflicting thoughts made thinking straight difficult. He’d caught her. She’d felt his arms around her and now was just inches away from his irritatingly perfect face. He was also not trying to tease her about her fall… Yet he was still the same guy who’d flirted so terribly with her and tried to mess with her menu.

“Well, I’ve done enough damage here. I’d best head up prep.”

There was something about the way he looked at her before he left. It was just for a second. Barely enough to register, but she noticed. It was the way he tilted his head and his eyes seemed to narrow just a little. But it - and he- was gone before she could dwell on what it meant. Well, not too much anyway.

/

Christmas Eve meant one last day of work and then a whole two days off thanks to the way the days fell that week. Emma intended on using these to catch up on her sorely neglected Netflix queue and work on the tub of Italian gelato that she had been hoarding in her freezer. As stressful as she knew the day would be, she bound into the restaurant with a light spring in her step at the prospect of a mini-vacation.

The junior chefs were already at work prepping the mountains of vegetables needed for three full sittings. Belle was supervising the construction of their special Christmas desserts and most everyone else was engaged in some kind of activity which gave the whole kitchen a pleasant buzz.

Someone had turned on the radio and Christmas tunes were their soundtrack to work. For once, Emma didn’t grumble, in fact the music seemed to be putting her in a festive mood. So much so that as she walked past Killian’s station, she took a moment to stop and wish him Merry Christmas.

“Thanks Swan,” he replied, his voice lacking its usual melodical spark.

She paused, watching as he filleted a cod, his sharp knife carefully maneuvering through the silvery flesh. She had to admit, he was pretty good at it.

“Any plans?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

He shook his head. “Nope, aside from a Skype call with my brother and his family tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

With a frown, Emma placed her hand over his, halting his knife.

“Have I done something to you?”

After a second’s pause, he lifted his head. “Not at all,” he drawled. Emma could smell lies a mile off.

“Then what is it?”

He placed the knife down and sighed. “It is acceptable to dislike the holidays, love, especially when your loved ones are thousands of miles away.”

“Oh,” she frowned, realizing she knew nothing about his family. She smoothed her hands over her apron.

He seemed to notice her reaction and his own posture softened somewhat. “I’ve only got my brother left and he’s in London. Last year he made it over here but he and his wife just had a child and, you know.” He gave her a sad little smile. It was strange seeing him so melancholy.

“Sorry, that must be hard.” She hesitated, before adding, “I wouldn’t know, I don’t have any family.”

“You don’t?”

She looked away. “Foster kid,” she shrugged.

“I had no idea,” he said softly.

“I don’t advertise it. I usually spend the holidays solo,” she explained before offering him her own small smile. “I guess we have something in common then. The whole ‘alone for the holidays’ thing.”

“So it seems,” he nodded. “Though I do hope that isn’t the only thing.”

And there it was- that little spark back again, the timbre of his voice and the flirty glance that she didn’t seem to mind so much anymore.

/

Maybe it was because it was the holidays, or maybe it was Emma feeling just a little sorry for him. Either way, she decided that making peace with Killian Jones would be her good deed for the Christmas season.

Karma and all that.

With this frame of mind, it was just past closing when she marched up to his station. “Jones, you busy after work?”

He cocked his eyebrow before a slow grin spread across his face.

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m not propositioning you,” she drawled, “I need your help.”

“Oh?”

“Gepetto’s has this new soup that the critics cannot get enough of, and guess who has procured a sample?”

Killian gave her a look of admiration. “Why Swan, I never took you for one to partake in espionage.”

“Hardly. He fired a busboy who happens to be friends with one of our pot washers. He figured the soup could buy him a trial here. He was right.”

“And you need my help to-?”

“Figure out what the hell is in it.”

“Hmm. I do love a challenge. Give me half an hour.”

“You’ve got 20 minutes.”

/

The small pot of soup was waiting on one of the metal prep benches when he finally sauntered over just as the last of the waiters left. He’d taken off his chef’s whites and replaced them with a pair of faded black jeans and a midnight blue button down whose sleeves he had rolled up to his elbows. Emma felt a little involuntary jolt of attraction when he approached. Somehow, the tiredness of his eyes had added to his appeal, giving him a drowsy, almost dreamy look which shouldn’t have worked but did.

“About time, Jones,” she quipped.

“I had to get something.” He held up a long, thin piece of dark material.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a blindfold, Swan. Have you never done a blind tasting?”

Emma shook her head, glancing warily at the item in his hands. “Sounds like something you made up.”

He took the last few steps to where she stood, hunching over so they were eye to eye. “The idea is to dull your other senses and therefore increase your sensitivity to taste.”

“And that works?”

“You’ll just have to find out.”

It took Emma a second to nod her agreement, slowly, not taking her eyes of him as he winked and held up the cloth. She placed her hands on the table in front of her and let him wrap the blindfold around her face, his hands quickly tying a gentle knot.

“Not what?” she asked.

There was no reply. Instead she heard the sound of the stood next to her scraping against the tiled floor, a soft clang as he picked up a spoon, the gently sloshing of liquid as he stirred the soup.

“Open wide, Swan.”

The spoon was at her lips. She parted them slowly, allowing it to slip into her mouth, her lips closing over it and taking the soup with them as he gently withdrew the silverware.

“What can you taste?” he asked. He was so close, his voice barely above a whisper but so loud in the quiet kitchen.

Emma let the soup roll over her tongue. It was delicious.  “Celery… shallot… leek, garlic - mmm, is that clove?”

She tugged the blindfold up onto her forehead.

Hell, he was closer than she thought, just inches away from her. Her eyes flickered automatically to his mouth as she tried to hold the memory of the flavours in her mind... as she also told herself to remember all the reasons why Killian Jones was a bad idea.

So why did she suddenly want to kiss him? He was looking at her so intensely- but not in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. Rather, it was like she was seeing him without the persona he wore in the kitchen. Like somehow she was seeing a real part of him, like she had earlier than day when he’d talked about his family.

Clawing the blindfold from her head, she faltered as she tossed it to him. “H-here,” she said, “Your turn.”

Titling his head to one side (in that curious way she had seen him do many times when he was intrigued) he said nothing, but merely nodded and complied with her request.

She stirred the soup, the spoon swirling the liquid until she raised the cutlery from the bowl. She had to lean a little closer to bring it to his lips.

“Open,” she whispered. She watched the spoon disappear into the pinkness of his mouth, his tongue peeking out to take the last drops from his full, luscious lips as Emma’s hand wrapped around the spoon and clutched onto it for dear life.

Free of his eyes on her, she stared at his face: his sharp jaw that met a strong neck, the muscles that contracted as he swallowed, the crop of thick, dark hair that fell over his forehead. It was quite the visage to be sure.

“Yes, clove,” he finally muttered, “And, maybe saffron?” He gestured to her with his hand. “Another Swan.”

Dipping the spoon back into the soup, she dawdled-

“Anytime you please,” he chuckled, his smile unbearably tempting-

She dropped the spoon, her hands moving instead to cup his face, her lips meeting his a moment later, kissing him, tasting the soup on his lips-

It seems he was taken by surprise - indeed she was - and it took a moment for him to kiss her back, to bring his hands to her waist, to part his lips and swipe his tongue between hers. It was altogether intoxicating, the way they moved together and the pace increased-

In a moment of clarity, she was able to stop herself. Pulling back just a little, she used her hands to tug the blindfold down and around his neck.

His cheeks were delightfully flushed, his eyes bright.

She faltered. “I… I mean, I’m…”

She wasn’t really sure what to say. The man she had been determined to hate had now became the man she wanted to kiss again, more than anything. Killian’s hands found their way from her waist to her hands. He held them firmly.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for quite some time,” he admitted.

Emma blushed and looked away. “Yeah, to add to your list of conquests in the kitchen.”

She glanced back at him. He looked almost… hurt.

“Why do you think that about me?” he asked, his grip on her hands loosening.

She could only be honest. “Jones, you flirt with everyone. Well, everyone except me.”

He stared at her, like he was willing her to see something. “Aye, love. With everyone except you.”

“Like I said…” she began.

“Emma - haven’t you realised it’s not real? That’s all just an act - my chef persona if you will. You play the serious, stern one in the kitchen, my choice is the jovial flirt.”

Her heart began to beat faster as she understood his meaning. He was right - she wasn’t that strict taskmaster when she was at home - she was fan of grilled cheese, bad romantic comedies, sleeping past noon and never clearing away a dirty dish without a damn good reason. Her work persona was all part of building her career and commanding the kitchen.

It must have been her expression that told him she got it. Because he was kissing her again, this time with more purpose; hands cupping her face, their knees jostling together as she faced him on the stools upon which they sat.

Her toes curled in pleasure, looping her hands around his shoulders as she let him pull her into his lap so his mouth could press kisses onto her neck- and that spot behind her ear that produced a burning tingle that went straight to her gut and reminded her just how long it had been since she’d been kissed (and that she’d never been kissed like that).

There was a fleeting moment as she undid the buttons of his shirt and he pulled at the pins holding her hair back that she wondered if what this was leading to was wise-

“What are you thinking, Swan?” he murmured against her chest, where his lips were finding the bare skin.

“That this is crazy,” she sighed as he nipped against her flesh.

Pausing, he looked up. “Do you want to stop?”

It took one look into those blue eyes to tell her the answer to that question.

“No. No I don’t.”

/

It was the morning after Christmas.

The day after a day spent mostly naked and mainly in Killian Jones’ bed.

“Morning love,” he whispered as she stirred against him.

“Morning,” she cooed, stretching out like a cat until he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“So, breakfast and then a walk maybe? We really should get some air at some point.”

She gave him a false pout. “But then I’d have to put on clothes.”

“Which I agree is a mighty shame-”

She squealed as he pulled her closer and peppered kisses over every inch of skin he could reach until she begged for mercy.

Twisting to face him, she suddenly felt awfully domestic. And that’s when the cold feet struck.

“Hey, Killian, this has been, well, it’s been great.”

“I agree,” he nodded, and by god she just wanted to kiss him again. She looked away from his face to the sharp bones of his collar.

“I - just so you know - don’t do more than one night. I thought you should know.”

He raised a brow, almost comically.

“By my calculations, you already have.”

He was right, yes, kind of.

“Yeah, I mean, technically-”

“And you haven’t turned into a pumpkin and the sky hasn’t fallen in and the world still turns-”

“What are you trying to say?”

He smiled again and pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “I’m trying to say, Chef Swan, that I would very much like to get to know you outside of that bloody kitchen. Both with - and without - clothes.”

Was it bad to say that was about the most romantic thing a guy had said to her in years? Probably. But right then, she didn’t care. Because she did want to get to know him better too and see what lay beyond the tight jeans and pretty awesome sexual prowess.

“I could handle that,” she said, all attempts at sounding nonchalant falling flat as she grinned back at him.

/

The Ship and Swan gastro pub opened two years later; a perfect fusion of her perfectionism and his flare. It was a roaring hit with the critics.

As was the way he proposed that opening night, in the middle of the dining room.

/

She said yes.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

@teamhook @catsofia @captainswanismyendgame

[jordan202]

My Boys: Beneath the Surface - Chapter 3

Thanks @jia911 for being so good to me! 

Previous chapters are linked HERE.

 My Boys: Beneath the Surface – Chapter 3

 Owen woke up with the soft contact of a small, warm hand rubbing on his stomach. He slowly opened his lids, only to find two amazing blue eyes staring back at him.

“Hey…” He whispered in confusion, forcing himself to wake up at the same time he tried to remember where he was. “What’s going on, are you…?”

The rest of Owen’s question got lost as Amelia’s lips gently touched his at the same time her hand cupped his cheek. Owen took a while to process what was happening but he quickly embarked on her kiss, instantly wrapping one arm around her frame as his wife moved to his top.

“What time is it?” The trauma surgeon asked in confusion, assessing everything around. He remembered they were in Amelia’s childhood home in New York because of a bad storm but judging by the silence, the rain had stopped falling outside.

“Over here, eight…” Amelia bent over and once again stole a kiss from his lips. “Back home, five in the morning.”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Owen questioned, now fully understanding why he had woken up so confused and disoriented. It wasn’t late morning like he’d assumed, but still the middle of the night for the time zone his body was still in.

Amelia let out a sigh and sat up on his thighs at the same time she pulled his shoulders in an attempt to keep him awake.

“We have to go, you can’t sleep in,” The neurosurgeon explained. “We got to clean up this mess before we leave… I don’t want to give my mom any ammo to point a finger at me any more than she already will.”

“We’ll clean up before we go,” he replied with simplicity.

Owen tried to ignore her logical explanation and closed his eyes, determined to sleep for at least another couple of hours, but Amelia insistently annoyed him to wake up.

“I’d never thought I’d say this in my life but stop kissing me,” Owen cried out, torn between feeling grumpy or amused. “Go back to sleep, woman.”

“No, Owen, get up, come on,” Amelia pulled his arm, unsuccessfully trying to move his body out of the bed.

“I will get up alright if you'd stop giving me a lap dance,” Owen chided with a mirthful smile, referring to the way she was straddling his hips.

Amelia tried to act mad at him but she let out a happy chuckle, amused at his mixed sense of humor.

“I’ll drive to Connecticut with the kids and leave you here,” She threatened with a grin.

“You can’t, they won’t all fit in one car,” Owen reasoned, pulling the covers and easily resisting her strong pull.

“I’ll just pick my favorites and leave the nasty ones to you,” Amelia smiled mischievously, leaning over him to once again shower him with pestering kisses. “Come on, Owen, up, up, up…”

There was only one reason that would make Owen willingly wake up at that ungodly hour but seeing how anxious his wife was to leave, he doubted Amelia would be up for having sex at that moment. Owen couldn’t remember the last time he’d made love to his wife without being in a hurry. If he were to be completely honest, in the previous couple of weeks, they hadn’t got any action at all because the days before their trip had been exceptionally busy, with the kids having tests at school and the two surgeons pulling long hours at work to make up for the time they would be absent on vacation. And Owen knew that sex and sleep deprivations weren’t exactly contributing to put him in a good mood.

After being tormented for the following five minutes, Owen reluctantly did as requested, not at all excited to leave the bed. Amelia tried to cheer him up by saying they would have an amazing week away from their work responsibilities but Owen got up without saying a word, too tired to focus on what he was doing.

As Amelia had predicted, they took a long time putting the house back in order and getting the kids ready to go. When they finally made it to the lovely town of New Canaan in Connecticut, it was nearly lunch time.

“Look, mom, there is a pool!” Danny excitedly shouted when they entered the house.

Amelia nodded with a large smile. The city where her sister lived was distinctively wealthy. All houses followed the same pattern: old colonial huge mansions with five or six bedrooms and a lot of outdoor space. When she and Owen had opted for renting a house instead of staying with her family or booking a hotel, they’d done it for the sole purpose of allowing the kids more freedom and space to have fun. It was summer, after all. But Amelia had purposefully not told them about the yard and the pool as a way to surprise the excited group. And after seeing the happy smile on their faces, she was sure they’d made the right decision.

.

“I just called my mom and she is at Nancy’s a few blocks from here. They are coming over later,” Amelia awkwardly informed her husband, watching as Owen finished settings things for their lunch. On the way there, they’d stopped to shop groceries and Owen had suggested they made a barbecue outside, an idea that was promptly supported by the boys.

“That’s fine, we have more than enough food,” Owen replied with a lighthearted smiled, pulling up his sunglasses to look at her.

Amelia playfully rolled her eyes but couldn’t contain a chuckle when she looked at him. As the kids ran on the grass throwing footballs and jumped in and out of the pool under her careful watch, Owen stood barefoot by a large barbecue grill, completely at ease. Amelia knew he loved being outdoors but her husband’s very fair skin and blonde locks didn’t exactly fit that summer scenario. As she watched his skillful hands gracefully handling their lunch, Amelia couldn’t help noticing his large, manly hands. She involuntarily bit her bottom lip, being assaulted by memories of the amazing things Owen could do with those hands. Amelia really missed her husband and couldn’t wait to be with him in real privacy.

“Did you put on sunscreen?” She inquired with a teasing smile, having more fun watching him than she would admit.

“Oh, God, here we go…” Owen rolled his eyes, well aware of his wife’s constant pestering about sun protection.

Amelia once again chuckled, determined to let nothing ruin her good mood. She silently nudged her husband’s shoulder with her own to then give him a hand with the cooking while keeping an eye on the kids. Inside the pool, Megan had her arms firmly wrapped around Zola’s neck, giggling at Lucas’ playful attempts to bite her feet underwater mimicking a shark.

The scene distracted her for a few seconds, bringing a smile to Amelia’s face but soon enough her thoughts wandered back to her family. If she were to be completely honest, having a space for her kids to enjoy their summer break had been the main reason why she had suggested to Owen they rented a house, but not the only one. Truth was, she didn’t want to spend a full week under the likelihood of her sisters’ heavy judging.

Even though after their heartfelt and sincere conversation years before Amelia had come to feel a little closer to Nancy, her sister’s behavior despite improved wasn’t completely different. Just like her mother and other siblings, Nancy still believed she had every right to comment on Amelia’s life choices and openly criticize them. After so many years of being submitted to heavy frowns, looks of disappointment and gratuitous judgments, Amelia felt like she was already immune to most of it. Of course she didn’t look forward to their behavior, but she had already grown a thicker skin.

On the other hand, Owen and their kids had never really spent that much time with her family and they didn’t deserve to be equally scrutinized. Amelia knew her sisters loved her and all they did was thinking of her best interest, but she didn’t like the way they did it one bit. Even though she had never really spent much time dwelling on the thought, Amelia was pretty sure her sisters were hesitant about her husband. And Amelia knew she was partly to blame about that.

When she’d gotten engaged to Owen, Amelia hadn’t yet introduced him to anyone in the family. Trying to make amends for that, she had invited everyone to their wedding but none of them had made it. That had scarred Amelia more than she would admit. Back then, startled by her apparent impulsive decision to marry a guy no one in the family knew, her mother and sisters had cruelly suggested Owen was another one of her ill advised decisions. Amelia acknowledged that maybe she could have told them about Owen before she announced they were getting married. But Amelia was also damn sure that didn’t give her family the right to suppose that since she hadn’t, it was because there was something to ashamed of and then simply assume Owen was another bad call from her part.

But that was exactly what they’d done.

After finding out the youngest of the Shepherd siblings had married a guy no one really knew, they had immediately jumped to the conclusion that Amelia’s husband was someone who didn’t share their values of family importance, considering he was marrying someone without bothering to know her relatives first. It took Amelia a while to make them believe she hadn’t just met Owen and decided to marry him; that in fact, they’d been in a relationship for years before they had decided to take the next step, which ultimately just added to the bad impression the Shepherds had about Owen not being interested in meeting the family. Weeks after the wedding, in a long conversation on the phone in which Amelia’s mother had once again repeatedly asked if she’d gone back to using drugs, Carolyn Shepherd had also asked what was so wrong about Owen that Amelia felt like she needed to hide him from them for the two years prior to the marriage.

Amelia still felt awful for not shouting to her mom that her distance had been because she was conscious of her family and didn’t want to cause a bad impression about them on Owen, and not the other way around like they probably had assumed. Not even affirming that Owen had been good friends with Derek and that her late brother approved of their relationship had made her mother or sisters believe Amelia was in a functional place for the first time in her life. And because Amelia was family and they couldn’t hold a grudge on her for much longer, the Shepherds had instead channeled their resentment towards her husband over the years.

After that, as she slowly introduced Owen to her mother and sisters’ lives on Christmases and Thanksgivings, her family had grown more comfortable and less suspicious of him, but that first impression and the wrong idea they’d made of him in their heads still lasted, awkwardly lingering in the air every time one of them talked to or about Amelia’s husband.

Carolyn had raised her kids to value family and support each other as much as they could. After they had met their significant others, all Shepherds had pretty much stuck around. Derek had married Addison and during most of their marriage they’d lived in Manhattan, whereas Kathleen and her husband had also shared a penthouse with a Central Park view, at a driving distance from their mother’s house. After she’d gotten married, Nancy and her husband had moved to Connecticut, also no more than an hour away and Liz ran her practice upstate where she lived with her husband and kids.

But as soon as she’d graduated high school, Amelia had gone up to Harvard for school and she’d never looked back. Once she’d gotten into residency, a move from Boston to Baltimore had followed, then to Los Angeles, until Amelia had finally settled down in Seattle. While her sisters and brother had spent nearly every holiday together, celebrating their victories, sharing their losses and slowly introducing new members of their families, Amelia had been the estranged one to move from city to city, hardly ever making an appearance at family events.

Amelia didn’t regret keeping her distance when she had to because she knew that had been exactly what she’d needed to keep her mental sanity. And while in Los Angeles, during one of the darkest periods of her life, luckily she’d had a family there who’d been able to offer more support and instill strength than her biological family had ever had. Even growing up, Amelia had felt like she could relate more to Addison than any of her sisters and that explained why she’d spent so much time at her brother’s Manhattan apartment as a teenager, soon after he’d married Addison Montgomery.

“Are you okay?” Owen asked with a puzzled expression, studying his wife’s distant attitude.

His question brought Amelia back from her thoughts and blinking twice before getting back to the present, Amelia finally looked back at him.

“What?”

“I was just asking if you can get the coleslaw and the potato salad from the fridge,” Owen stared into her eyes.

“Sure,” Amelia forced herself to focus on what was happening around her rather than in her mind. “I’ll get to it,” Turning around, she followed the stony path that came from the pool and raised her voice, “Guys, come on, get out of the pool to have lunch.”

As the kids made their way to the yard tables outside, Amelia climbed the steps of the back porch, distractedly humming to a song before going into the kitchen. She was trying to balance two bowls in her arms at the same time she closed the fridge with her leg when the loud buzz from the doorbell startled her. After putting the salad plates on the kitchen counter, Amelia crossed the whole house towards the foyer, not surprised to see her mother and three sisters when she opened the door.

Almost instantly she felt her ribs complaining at the sequence of tight hugs she got, followed by cheerful words of excitement at their reunion after so long.

“You look amazing!” Liz commented with genuine affection, wrapping one arm around her little sister’s shoulder. Amelia couldn’t help smiling back. Liz had always been her favorite sister. “Where are the kids? I can’t wait to see them.”

“They’re all outside,” Amelia replied with a grin, feeling overwhelmed at the unexpected but warm welcome. “Come on, Owen is making barbecue, let’s all go have lunch.”

Amelia was still a little self conscious when she led the way to the backyard, watching as her mom stepped up to help her carry the rest of the food outside. At the sight of the small group of women coming down the back porch stairs, Owen politely greeted each one of them and watched as they took their time talking to the kids and pointing out how grown they all were.

“Oh my God, Zola, look at you!” Kathleen explained with surprise. “What happen to that little girl with piggy tails?”

“Well, I am going to college in the fall,” The seventeen year old shared with a smile. “No more piggy tails for me.”

“How is your mom?” Carolyn asked, looking from Zola to Bailey and quickly moving her eyes to Ellis. Looking at Bailey was always a little heartbreaking for the Shepherds, because the fifteen year old boy resembled his father in nearly everything, from the voice, to the slim figure and the way he walked. Only his light hair was a telltale that he had some of Meredith’s genes too.

“She’s been super busy with work,” Ellis stepped up to reply and Amelia couldn’t help noticing the girl sounded a little resentful.

“I can’t say how happy I am that the three of you have agreed to come to the wedding,” Nancy said with honesty, touching Ellis’ hair with something that resembled a mix of pity and longing. Amelia wasn’t sure but she thought she’d seen a bit of relief when her sisters found out they weren’t going to see Ellis, Bailey and Zola’s mom.

Even though Carolyn sometimes flew to Seattle to see her grandkids and for their sake kept a civil relationship with Meredith, none of the Shepherds, especially the sisters, had really forgiven her for the way she’d let Derek go without at least letting his family say goodbye. Amelia knew that like her, the other women missed Derek deeply. But unlike the youngest sister, who saw her nieces and nephew on a weekly basis, Carolyn, Nancy, Kathleen and Liz didn’t have a lot of contact with the trio, so every time they saw his kids, the group was reminded of the cruel reality that Derek was really gone.

“And just look at you, you cute little thing,” Liz smiled broadly as she kneeled down to Megan’s height. The little girl was defensively standing behind Amelia’s leg, watching the virtual strangers with suspicion. “You look so grown! The last time I saw you, you were only a tiny, tiny baby.” Amelia’s sister added with an inviting smile, trying to win over the youngest member of the family.

Megan studied the woman who resembled her mother for a little while and once she decided her aunt looked harmless, the girl finally took a step forward, still keeping a safe distance from her mother.

“I am very grown,” The five year old said with authority.

The group of six adults laughed in synchrony and soon after, Owen guided them to sit down on the round tables placed in the backyard. With the eager help of Lucas and Bailey, the trauma surgeon went back to the grill. As the kids took their seats, even though there was more than enough space at the table, Thomas casually sat on his mother’s lap as he excitedly told her about the tennis court he’d spotted in the opposite side of the backyard.

Amelia was so busy sharing her attention between listening to Thomas and slicing chicken fillets for the twins that she never noticed the discreetly surprised look on her sisters’ faces at scene playing out in front of them. Over the years, no one had witnessed the growth Amelia had gone through and because she had never really spent much quality time with the rest of the family since her days in university, the Shepherd sisters still viewed their younger sibling as a rebel, wild, inconsequent party girl who often struggled to tell right from wrong. In their minds, Amelia had never really fit in, usually being the absent one on special occasions and never really sharing much about her life. They didn’t expect Amelia to be an affectionate, caring mother, especially not someone who sliced chicken or whose eleven year old son felt so comfortable around.

To her sisters, Amelia’s marriage to Owen had been sudden and impulsive. The three women and Carolyn Shepherd expected it to crumble quickly but surprisingly, it had not only resisted, but apparently also thrived. Together, the previously underrated couple had built a solid marriage and had five children. Still, the Shepherds were hesitant because even after all that time, Owen and the grown up version of Amelia were still virtual strangers to them. The Seattle-based couple didn’t exchange weekly phone calls like the three other sisters did and they hardly ever showed up in the East Coast. Over the years, everyone had come to assume they simply didn’t care enough to do it.

In the mean time, Owen had spent the past decade trying to convince Amelia that they should try to be closer to her family, for the sake of their kids. But Amelia had always resisted, arguing that she would rather her kids didn’t get close to her family rather to have them undergo the same kind of scrutiny she’d received from them all her life. But then at times, when she was distracted, Amelia would make a comment about her mother or share a happy memory about one of her sisters and those accidental slips made Owen wonder if they really were the monsters his wife painted them to be. And because he had never really spent more than two or three days a year in their company, Owen had never really come to find out.

So in reality, after nearly a decade of being married to Amelia, the truth was that her family still didn’t know Owen at all, whereas the trauma surgeon also had never had the chance to make up his own impartial opinion about them. The only difference was that now, instead of a spending a few hours in two days around them, Owen was going to be in their company for at least a whole week.

And yet, he had no idea how much that experience would affect him or his marriage.

.

Later that same day, Amelia couldn’t believe when she was finally able to take a deep breath and slow down. After spending nearly the whole day outside with her family, the neurosurgeon had watched her sisters and mother leave after dinner, still not quite believing how they had impeccably behaved during the whole afternoon.

As she helped Danny and Robbie get in bed after the exhausting day they’d had, Amelia thought about that. Aside from one or two teasing remarks, her mother and sisters had actually treated her with considerate kindness and she was positively impressed. The twins fell asleep the minute she pulled the covers on them and Amelia smiled with pleasure at the image of their healthy, flushed faces after spending the entire day playing outside. Even though it wasn’t that late in Seattle, they were already getting adapted to the new time zone. After giving each boy a kiss on the head, the neurosurgeon made it to the room at the end of the hall, where Megan was already asleep. Knowing her daughter had been demanding Zola’s attention through the entire day, Amelia considerately asked her oldest niece:

“Zozo, there is a vacant bedroom on this side of the hall, do you want to go sleep there? I know Meg hasn’t left you alone for one second. It’s okay to take a break from her, you deserve it.” The surgeon added with good humor.

Zola chuckled and replied with sincerity.

“It’s okay, aunt, I don’t mind it one bit,” The teenage girl confessed. “To be honest, I actually enjoy it. It’s nice to have a little kid idolizing you.”

Amelia smiled in return and gave her two nieces and daughter a kiss goodnight, watching as this time, Megan had chosen to sleep on Ellis’ bed. She closed the door after them, thinking back at how she had once felt the same way as Megan, idolizing Zola’s dad and always chasing after him and demanding his attention.

After seeing Owen help Lucas, Thomas and Bailey figure out their sleeping arrangements, Amelia gave the boys a kiss too and disappeared into her suite, eager to finally relax and enjoy that part of her vacation. Back home, at that hour she would usually catch up on journals, oversee some resident’s work or review a surgical plan but since she was on time off, Amelia could enjoy the luxury of having no late night responsibilities.

The neurosurgeon couldn’t believe it when she finally walked into the shower. Even though the sun was very strong during the day, the temperature in New Canaan usually dropped to a comfortable low during the night. Amelia lost track of time and spent long minutes enjoying the soothing silence, the steamy air sweating the glass walls and the delicious touch of the hot water on her body.

She was so relaxed and distracted enjoying every sensation that when a pair of large, manly hands slowly splayed on her hips she took longer than usual to react to it. When her mind finally acknowledged Owen’s presence in the shower, her body had already responded to his touch with a rush of blood to her lower belly.

A thousand words were said in their silence and Amelia arched her back, leaning against her husband’s chest as his hands slowly made their way up from her sides to her waist at the same time his lips explored the curve of her neck. Unable to resist, Amelia took one of her hands up and dug her fingers through her husband’s hair, roughly pulling him closer. When his hands finally cupped her breasts and Owen pulled her body against his, Amelia felt a boost of pleasure, feeling his obvious arousal pressing against her back.

“I want you,” Owen hoarsely whispered in her ear between kisses. One of his hands swiftly traveled from her breast to the middle of her thighs, pressing her harder as if proving a point, “so much…”

Amelia closed her eyes and tilted her head back, gasping for air as she felt the sweet intrusion of her husband’s fingers in her body. Her free hand automatically grabbed Owen’s wrist for support while his movements made her feel like she was losing balance in her legs. Amelia could still feel the hot water and Owen’s lips sucking her neck at the same time his fingers tortured her intimately. The combination of sensations was as erotic as it was sweet and Amelia totally gave in to the feelings, surrendering to her husband with desire and selfless abandon.

When it felt like her body would explode from so much pleasure, Amelia felt Owen spinning her around in his arms. His lips claimed hers in an eager kiss that robbed Amelia from her thoughts at the same time his hands grasped her butt cheeks, roughly pulling her body against his. She had to stand on the tips of her toes and even then couldn’t make up for their height difference,feeling delirious at the amazing sensation of her breasts colliding against Owen’s solid chest.

When he finally pulled away, allowing both of them to catch some air, Amelia ran her palms on the extension of his arms, rejoicing in his firm, masculine angles. Owen’s entire body was solid, with broad shoulders, a strong torso and muscular thighs. Whenever he was drowning in pleasure like that, looking as if he could devour her at any moment, Amelia felt completely turned on by his raw masculinity. Unable to resist it, she ran her palms on his chest and neck, capturing his jaw to pull Owen for another long, deep kiss.

When they finally pulled apart again, Owen noticed the intensity of her gaze, unable to ignore how red her lips were or how soft her skin felt at his touch. But when their eyes finally met, it was Amelia’s expression of bliss that completely won him over.

“Whatever it is that you want from me with that smile,” Owen wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, “the answer is yes.”

Amelia chuckled, feeling immensely happy and overtaken with aching love. It had been long weeks since she could enjoy actually making love to her husband instead of hurriedly having sex whenever they caught a break in their intensely busy routine.

“You,” She moaned against his lips before running her fingers on the back of his neck in an intimate caress, completely determine to seduce Owen and prolong that amazing time together for as long as she could. “All I want is you.”

Her plot worked exactly as expected because at the sound of her words, Owen hungrily kissed her lips, running his hand on every tiny bit of Amelia’s body. They spent the following minutes playfully exploring each other’s bodies with sensual kisses and experienced touches in completely synchrony. Amelia used shower gel to teasingly rub her husband’s body, laughing along when he accused her of being a professional torturer. When the foreplay was finally over, Owen easily lifted her from the floor, making Amelia wrap her legs around him at the same time he walked with her to the large bed they would be sharing for the following days.

“That’s an upgrade,” Amelia joked, looking up at Owen with mirth as he covered her body with his, gently caressing her hair. The comfort of the soft bed didn’t compare to the tiny one they’d had to share the previous night.  “We’ll sleep much better tonight.”

“Sleeping is the last thought on my mind right now,” Owen confessed, parting her legs with his thigh before burying his face on the curve of her neck. He had waited too long to love her again and no matter how many times he did it, it would never be enough.

Amelia giggled and let out a muffled scream when Owen playfully bit her. She felt his hardened body against the middle of her thighs and before he could even react, she rolled on his top, welcoming his body in hers at the same time she leaned over to kiss his lips.

Owen made no objections and relaxed back on the bed, feeling the delicious movement of her hips on his as Amelia intensified her rhythm. He patiently waited for his wife to reach climax before releasing himself inside of her, absolutely numbed by the intensity of his desire for her.

“Are you tired?” Amelia asked mischievously after a few minutes, grabbing his hand and planting a wet kiss on his open palm, in a very intimate and erotic manner. Owen saw what she was doing and he had to resort to all self control he possessed to stop himself from capturing her beneath him and making love to her again immediately. “Do you want to go to sleep?”

“Will you let me?” Owen playfully asked, rubbing his thumb on her cheek, mesmerized by her beauty and how much he adored her. Amelia drove him completely crazy and he loved every minute of it.

“No,” His wife said with determination before bending over to touch her forehead to his. Owen let out a loud chuckle and blamed himself for being surprised. Amelia had a never ending energy and he should know better by now. “You might be surprised to hear this but,” She joked, showering his face with lazy kisses, determined to make the most out of the evening that was far from being over. “I’ve just figured out that sleeping also happens to be the last thought on my mind right now.”

 ---

thanks @shepherd-hunt for pimping my icon! I loved it!

[adralockhartfanfic]

Grandier & Grandier Law

I slipped the pillow off my head, my alarm clock blared 'Always by Killswitch Engage' through speakers of my sound system. My hand sleepy smacked the table next to my bed, finally hitting the alarm clock shutting it off. I yawned sleepily sitting up in bed, I heard the door of my bedroom open, in walked my best friend since grade school and roommate Giles.

“Adra wake up you can't be late on your first day”

I rubbed my eye, looking at him. Fully clothed, punctual as always.

“I'm up, I'm up”

He dug through my closet and threw clothes at me,

“Here wear this, if your late it will look bad on both of us.”

Giles left, I went to the bathroom to change. I walked out of my bedroom, grabbing my briefcase that was on the table Giles pushed me from behind out the door. We arrived at the tall office building the huge sign outside read 'Grandier and Associates' I shrunk back, I was nervous as hell. I recently graduated law school and this was my first job since, I  never imagined I would be working for such a huge firm. Giles stood at the doors,

“Adra come on lets go”

I breathed out slowly and stepped inside the building Giles following closely behind me. We rode the elevator the thirteenth floor, it stopped with a jolt. The doors opened with a ding, there stood two men in suits. The one with short black hair stood with his head cocked clearly annoyed, talking viciously to the person on the other end of his cell phone. The other looked down at his cell phone scrolling through the screen, strands of his black hair falling in his face that wasn't held back in his ponytail. Giles stepped past them and waited for me, the man with long hair, looked up and our eyes locked. His sapphire eyes pierced right through me. I was stunned I couldn't move, I felt my face turning multiple shades of red. He smiled softly, making me melt. I felt a tug on my arm,

“I'm sorry Mr.Grandier, Lockhart lets go”

Giles pulled me by the arm and out of the elevator past the man. The strange man grabbed my free hand stopping me in my tracks,

“Lockhart?  Adra Lockhart?”

“Um-yes”

“So your the new recruit, I'm pleased to meet you”

He took my hand and pressed it against his lips. I blushed profusely,

“I-um”

“How silly of me, I'm Sean Grandier.”

“Yo Sean lets go we have court in fifteen minutes”

The other man yelled holding the elevator doors.

“I'm coming Sid. Its great to have you with us. We will talk later okay”

I bowed slightly and smiled,

“Sure”

He waved as he disappeared behind the closing doors of the elevator. I stood in shock, watching the closed doors. I felt a smack on my back,

“Nice first impression on the boss Adra”

Giles chuckled  heartily.

“Shut up Giles”

I sat at my desk in my new office, Giles had given me a new case to look over. I was to be his second chair, for his upcoming trial. I read through the case file, I briefly looked up at the clock and realized it had been hours since I moved, I rubbed my temples feeling a headache coming on.

“Ugh”

I sighed softly. Someone knocked softly on the door. I figured it was Giles coming to check up on me.

“What do you want Christophe?”

“Well I'm not Giles for one, but I did want to know if you would join me for lunch”

I looked up to see the owner of the voice, I stood up quickly.

“Oh Mr. Grandier. I'm sorry I dint realize it was you”

“Call me Sean please”

He smiled as he tucked his hair behind his ear. I could see his perfectly chiseled face, his adorable dimples graced his face as he smiled. I felt my cheeks heat up, I looked down trying to hide my embarrassment.

“I would love to but, Giles asked me to look over this. I'm going to be his second chair for this trial. And I want to do well, since this is my first case.”

“I see, what case is it?”

“People V Howard”

He stepped beside me peeking at the documents spread across the desk. He leaned in close over my shoulder our faces mere inches from each other. I breathed in the manly smell of his cologne. I tried desperately to still my racing heart, it rang in my ears so loud I was sure he could hear it himself.

“Ah the mob boss is finally on trial for all those murders. That's a big case Adra”

I melted hearing him say my name,

“Uh-yeah it is”

He patted me on the back,

“Well I will take a rain check on the lunch until your done with the case, okay? Do your best and put that bastard away”

He smiled and waved leaving my office. I fell back into my chair with a sigh, my heart slowly returned to normal. Jeez, he didn't have to be so close to me. I thought I was going to faint,

“Jesus Christ, what a day.”

I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and picked up the file once more scanning through the evidence we had on Louis Howard. Before I knew it the clock read six in the evening and it was already getting dark outside.

“Hey you ready to go home?”

Giles came in and plopped down on the sofa. He cracked his neck back and forth,

“Yeah I'm ready”

I picked up the papers and shut them in my briefcase. Stepping out into the hall, I noticed we were the last to leave. The office seemed eerily quite, expect the soft sounds of a piano playing in the distance. I cocked my head to the sounds,

“Looks like Sean is still here. He listens to symphonies when he is working”

“Oh I see”

I followed Giles into the waiting elevator, we arrived at home I fell face first  onto the couch exhausted. I let out a sigh of relief to feel the soft fabric against my skin. I rolled over to see Giles standing behind the couch, staring down at me. He smiled mischievously, I instantly rolled my eyes at him.

“Stop looking at me like that”

“I didn't say anything”

He laughed softly,

“Do you want something to eat?”

“Nah I think I'm just going to make smoothie and head to bed, I'm exhausted.”

“I'll make you a nutritious one, just relax you had an eventful first day”

He snickered,

“Fuck you Giles”

“I love you too bitch”

I closed my eyes as he went into the kitchen, I heard the blender start up and my consciousness slowly faded to black. Giles came back with a smoothie in his hand,

“Adra, are you already asleep?”

He watched her chest rise and fall slowly, her eyelids twitched slightly. He sat the glass down on the coffee table and walked to the linen closet. He came back with a fluffy blanket and threw it over her, he slipped her heels off her feet and tucked the blanket under her feet. He leaned down and kissed her forehead,

“Sleep well Princess”

He grabbed the glass sipping the contents and headed to his room. I awoke the next morning to the sun shining in my eyes from the living room window. I sleepily sat up and rubbed my eyes, I yawned and realized I was sleeping on the couch. Giles was quietly reading a newspaper at the dining room table.

“What the hell why didn't you wake me up?”

Giles laid down his newspaper, turned in his chair and looked at me. He grinned sheepishly,

“You looked so peaceful, I couldn't bring myself to wake you up”

“Ugh”

He looked down at his watch,

“By the way you have twenty minutes to get ready”

“What the fuck”

I jumped off the couch tripping over the blanket as I tried to scramble to my room. I heard Giles dying of laughter behind me, I quickly got dressed and somehow had five minutes to spare. I shoved the scrambled eggs and bacon into my mouth that Giles had prepared for me before running out the door behind him. The next few days went by in a flash and the court date finally came. I stood in the elevator with Giles trying to breathe deeply to calm my nerves. He looked down at me,

“You will be fine, I promise”

He placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. I smiled in response and breathed out slowly.

“Lets do this then”

I held my head high and walked into the court room, taking my seat at the prosecutors table next to Giles. A blonde man sat with his lawyer at the defense table, so this is Louis Howard. He was handsome, his clear blue eyes met mine and I quickly looked away. Giles leaned over and whispered into my ear,

“Looks like someone came to see your first case”

He motioned with his eyes to the seat behind us. I turned and looked over my shoulder, there sat Sean three benches behind us. He gave me a reassuring smile, I heard Giles beside me

“Looks like someone likes you”

“Shut up Giles, we aren't in high school anymore”

The bailiff entered the court room, followed by the judge, Byron Wagner. In his commanding voice he said,

“All rise!”

I stood with Giles and the others, watching the young man take his seat. I sat down and listened to Giles give his opening statement to the jury,

“Ladies and gentleman of the jury, today you will be presented with undoubted evidence and testimony that Louis Howard the notorious mob boss, tortured and killed three innocence people in cold blood. You will hear expert testimony linking him to the crimes by blood and fingerprints.”

Giles sat back down, the defense attorney and delivered his opening statement. I barely listened at all I was looking through the file, sorting out our witness list. After he was finished, he returned to his seat. Giles stood,

“The people call Robert Branche”

The man stepped through the doors and took his seat on the witness stand. Giles began to question the man about his relation to Louis and his whereabouts on the night in question. He was Louis' right hand man in the mob, sending out kill orders and making sure they went through, if not taking care of it himself. We had granted him immunity on all charges for his crimes for his testimony against Louis. Which the defense challenged on cross examination, stating that only reason he is saying these things about his client, was that his immunity was at stake if he didn't. We called the medical examiner next, she outlined the details of the murders, how each one had been killed with the same nine millimeter gun, one bullet to the head. After being beaten and tortured for hours. We broke for lunch at noon, I stepped outside the courtroom,

“You guys did great for the first day”

Sean said walking up behind me,

“Keep this up and we will definitely win this case”

He smiled brightly leaving towards the elevator. I grabbed a quick lunch before court came back in session. After two more witnesses, court adjourned for the day. The defense lawyer approached us outside along with is client.

“Ten to fifteen Christophe”

“Not a chance Timmons”

I spoke up resolve in my voice,

“If I have anything to do with it your client is going to prison for the rest of his life”

Louis looked at us visibly angered at our refusal, Giles gave me a quick slap on the back with a smile. I headed back to the office looking over documents. I went to Giles' office to ask him a question on the case, but he was now where to be found.

“Hmm...where could he be”

I pulled out my cellphone and called his number, the line trilled dully as I heard the sound of Beethoven's ninth symphony play in the background behind me. I saw a dim light shining under Sean's office door, I didn't notice Giles had already picked up the phone,

“Adra? Hello? Did you pocket dial me again?”

“Oh, I spaced out for a moment. Where are you? I had question about the case and”

“You are going to have to handle the case on your own”

“WHAT?”

My voice almost a scream into the phone, I could visualize Giles holding the phone away from his ear. His voice was hoarse,

“I got food poisoning from something I ate at lunch, I can barely crawl out of bed much less handle a court case”

“Dammit”

“What did you need to know about the case?”

“Its nothing, I'll figure it out. You rest and get better soon, Ill be home later okay”

“Yeah, goodnight”

“Goodnight”

I hung up the phone and softly beat my head against the wall beside his office. I felt a pit in my stomach, so I'm solo on Monday. Caught up in my despair I hadn't heard the door to Sean's office open.

“Adra your still here?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at his voice. I turned to see him standing in the doorway, his undone tie hung loosely around his neck, the top few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, his hair laid perfectly against his shoulders free from its elastic prison. He looked amazing, I could do nothing but stare.

“You okay?”

He asked concerned, I quickly regained my composure,

“Uh yeah. I was looking for Giles and I guess he is at home sick. So I guess I'm first chair Monday at the trial. Looks like my weekend is ruined”

I blew out a puff of air. The stress was unbearable, I only have two days to prepare for this. Sean cleared his throat,

“Grab your papers, maybe I can help you prepare. This is your first case solo, I remember how nervous I was”

“I don't want to be a nuisance, I'm sure your busy with your own case”

“Nonsense”

He went back inside the door. I grabbed the paperwork on my desk and went to his office, he sat on the sofa and motioned me to sit beside him. I sat down and laid out the papers on the table in front of us.

“Hold on one second”

He stood and moved to turn off the music,

“Oh please leave it on, Beethoven is my favorite composer.”

“Oh really?”

He smiled and made himself and I a drink. He sat the strong whiskey down in front of me. The scent burned my nose,

“I don't think I should be drinking at work”

“Don't be silly, its not like the boss is going to catch you”

He said chuckling with a wink of his eye,

“Besides it will help you relax a little”

I smiled and took a small sip as he sat back down beside me. Time passed quickly as we went over the case together,I was on my third glass of whiskey already. In truth I was drunk, but it was nice sitting with Sean talking about nothing in particular,

“Wow you play violin?”

“Yeah my mother made me learn when I was little, she thought it would make me more cultured.”

“Heh, she sounds like my mom”

“What did your mother force you to play?”

“I learned the piano, but I soon fell in love with sound. Beethoven and Mozart quickly became my favorite composers. I even wrote a small symphony once.”

“Your amazing Adra and your are full of surprises”

I laughed lightly as leaned closer to me,

“I'm not that exciting”

I felt his breath on my cheek,

“You have to let me hear you play”

“Heh, only if you let me hear you”

I smiled shyly, my face turning different shades of red. I happened to look up at the clock it was almost midnight.

“Wow its getting late. I'd better get home before Giles calls for a search party”

I started to stand but fell right back into the couch. Sean tilted his head back against the couch and laughed,

“I don't think your going to make it home tonight. Your drunk”

“And whose fault is that?”

I puffed my cheeks out irritated at him. I rubbed my temples in annoyance.

“Look I'll call my driver to take you home, okay? Just stay here while I call him”

“Fine”

I laid my head back against the couch as he got up to call his driver, I quickly drifted off to sleep. Sean turned around to ask Adra her address,

“Adra? Damn she is asleep, never mind I'll just take her home with me. Yeah I'm sure, I'll meet you downstairs in five”

Sean walked over to her sleeping body and picked her up in his arms and carried her to his waiting limousine. I moved around in bed feeling the cool touch silk sheets against my skin. The bed beneath me so soft that it felt like it was sucking me in. My eyes snapped open, wait my bed is hard as a rock and my sheets are cotton not silk, where the hell am I?  I cautiously pulled the blankets from my head, I laid in a four poster bed canopy bed, black lace hung down touching the floor. The lace blurred my vision of the rest of the room, the sky was a deep blue outside the sun hadn't even risen yet. I parted the lace and stepped out of the bed. Air chilled my naked legs, I quickly realized I was wearing an over sized shirt that hung all the way to my knees, I panicked. Holy shit where are my clothes?  What the hell happened last night? I quickly rummaged through the huge room looking any article of my clothing. I didn't notice Sean was sleeping on the couch that sat underneath the window. I tripped over an ottoman  sending me crashing to the floor,

“Ow dammit”

I sat  on the floor holding my knee, Sean sat up and saw Adra on the ground. He watched as she resumed her search crawling around on the floor,

“Adra?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, oh shit who is that. Sean turned on a lamp that sat on a table beside the couch. I slowly looked in the direction of the light. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw his face. I fell back on my butt,

“You scared the life out of me Sean”

“I'm sorry, you fell asleep in my office. I didn't know where you lived so I brought you home with me.”

I quickly panicked,

“Did we, uh?”

I motioned my finger back and forth between him and I. He smiled broadly,

“No, no. I was a perfect gentleman. I slept on this couch all night”

I let out a breath, relieved that nothing happened. Sean rubbed his neck roughly,

“So it would have been terrible if it had?”

“No that's not it, I mean I would want to remember it if we did, uh-I ugh never mind”

My face flushed red, I heard him laugh as I hid my face in my knees,

“I'm just teasing you, I would want you to remember too”

I thought my heart was going to explode in my chest, he knelt down in front of me lifting my head from my lap. His gaze intense, my breathing quickened he was so close I thought our lips would touch any moment. Then he whispered his breath hot against my lips,

“Lets get you dressed”

He stood and walked out of the room, I sat there stupid look on my face. What the hell was that? I quickly got up and followed after him to the living room, Sid sat on the couch in nothing but pajama pants eating a cold slice of pizza watching the morning news. Our eyes locked,

“Your the new girl.”

“I-uh yeah”

He yelled over the back of the couch,

“Damn Sean you work quick don't you?”

“Nothing happened Sid”

“Mind if I move in then?”

He smiled mischievously starting to get up off the couch,

“Back off Sid”

“Dammit”

He fell back onto the couch and started to channel surfing paying me no mind. I held my face in my hands and quickly shuffled past him. I found Sean in the dining room, looking through women's clothing. I cocked my head to the side,

“Whats this?”

“Oh, I told my driver your size and had him pick out some clothes for you. I hope you don't mind.”

I ran my fingers across the fabric, I picked up a cute black v neck tee. The price tag fell from the neck, a hundred and fifty dollars?

“Sean I can't accept these, they are too expensive”

“Nonsense, a princess should be spoiled like one”

“Sean I'm no princess”

“Of course you are, every woman is.”

His words made me smile, he handed me a pair of ripped up blue jeans.

“Those we go perfectly together, go take a shower, the guest bathroom is in there”

He pointed down the hall,

“After your ready we will go have breakfast,”

“Sean I have to go home”

“I promise I will take you home after breakfast”

He flashed me a bright smile, I couldn't resist him. I went and took a hot shower, truthfully I needed it. The hot water cascaded down my back relieving any stress still built up in my shoulders. I stepped out and dried off, I put the clothes on that Sean had bought for me. My hair still damp I stepped out of the bathroom and made my way to the kitchen where I heard  the sound of cups clinking together. Sean stood behind the island pouring coffee into two mugs, he was freshly showered, his black hair still damp the fresh scent of his cologne tickled my nose. I exhaled opening my eyes, he was staring at me not saying a word. I felt increasingly uncomfortable,

“What is it?”

“Nothing you look beautiful is all”

I looked down at my feet,

“Coffee?”

He held the cup out to me,

“Yes please”

I took the mug and sipped the delicious contents. After finishing our coffee we went to a little cafe, the smell of fresh baked pastries made my stomach growl in an unladylike like manner. I grabbed it hoping Sean didn't hear, a young lady showed us to our seat and took our orders.

“This place has the best breakfast food I have ever eaten”

“It smells delicious in here”

I smiled softly taking in the scenery of the cafe, the smells, the artwork, and the chatter of happy people. Sean watched Adra as she looked at the paintings on the walls, running her fingers across the wall next to her painted with a mural. His chest suddenly felt warm watching her,

“Hey Adra”

“Hmm?”

I continued to trace my fingers across the lines of the mural on the wall.

“Do you want to go to the art museum after this?”

Sean hoped she would say yes, he didn't want to let her go.

“I would love to, but I need to check up on Giles”

“Oh I see”

He looked down clearly disappointed, a pit formed deep in his stomach. He looked up at Adra, her face conflicted.

“Hey how about this, I'll go with you to check on Giles and if everything is okay, then we can go to the museum.”

Her face lit up,

“Deal”

We finished our breakfast and headed to my apartment, it was substantially smaller than his. I started to feel anxious about him coming up. We rode the elevator silently to the fifth floor, I walked to my door sliding the key into the lock. I opened the door and stepped in, thank god the place is actually clean for once.

“Giles, you here?”

I called out loudly throwing my keys on the table by the door,

“Yeah I'm in here”

His voice coming from his bedroom. I went to his bedroom and saw him lying in bed a pale sweaty mess,

“God you look terrible”

“I would tell you the same but your looking hot mama, who are you looking all sexy for?”

Sean stepped in the door behind me,

“Oh I see”

Giles said under his breath, I rolled my eyes instinctively.

“What do I owe the pleasure of your visit Sean?”

“Adra needed to check up on you, before I took her to the museum”

I looked over at Sean,

“Only if your well enough to leave to leave you alone that is”

“I'm fine, I called Alyn. So he should be here soon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes you kids have fun”

I kissed his forehead and left, Sean stayed behind,

“Get better soon Giles”

“I will and you take care of Adra”

“I will”

I ran into Alyn while leaving,

“Hey Alyn”

“Adra, hows he doing?”

“Being a drama queen as always”

We both stood there laughing as Sean entered the room,

“Ah Alyn this Sean, our boss and Sean this Alyn, Giles' partner.”

They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Giles called for Alyn from his bedroom, I giggled,

“Good luck”

Alyn rolled his eyes and waved us goodbye,

“Thanks”

We left the apartment, walking through the streets of downtown. I felt like I was in my own world with Sean, even through the hustle and bustle of people roared around us. I felt a drop of rain hit the tip of my nose causing me to look up, then the rain began to pour down, I squeaked,

“Oh god that's cold”

“Come on this way”

Sean grabbed my hand and lead us into the park taking shelter under a gazebo. I t was raining so hard I could barely see the figures of people walking. I looked over to Sean, his hair was dripping wet clinging to his face, his white shirt was completely transparent. I could clearly see the outline of his muscles, my body was growing hot in contrast to the goosebumps the littered my bare skin.

“Damn where did this rain come from?”

“Heh, figures it would rain with my luck”

I tore my eyes from the erotic sight which was Sean. I shivered as the wind blew past us, chilling my skin even further. I felt Sean's arms wrap around me, my face pressed against his chest. My heart began beating rapidly,

“You must be freezing”

“I'm okay”

“Just let me warm you up”

I looked up at Sean his eyes meeting mine, our faces drew closer to each other like magnets that couldn't be pulled away from each other. Our lips touched as a rumble of thunder boomed across the sky. I felt electricity course through my lips to my toes. He pulled away leaving me breathless, his forehead touching my own. His breath hot and ragged on my nose as I looked up into his eyes, our lips met again and again in hot feverish attempt to overpower the other. Before I knew it I was in his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist. His kisses trailing down my neck to my collarbone, soft moans escaped my lips, gripping the wet tresses of hair.

“Sean we...can't...not here”

I panted heavily. He looked up at me, a disheveled mess he had made me.

“Ill call us a ride”

He held onto me tight pulling his phone out of his pocket calling his driver. Five minutes later a car pulled up to our location, he let me down softly and we ran to the car getting soaked all over again. We arrived back his apartment, it was dimly lit from the storm raging outside.

“Sid?”

Sean yelled inside the apartment,

“Looks like he isn't here”

He looked at me with devilish eyes over his shoulder. Those eyes made me heat up from inside again, he pushed me against the wall he towered over me. He whispered in my ear, his voice husky

“Are you ready to finish what we started?”

I nodded my head in agreement, his lips crashed into mine leaving me breathless. I soaked in the heat radiating from his body.  I wanted him, craved him to my very core, from the moment I first laid eyes on him. I pushed my body hard against him, as I clawed at his wet shirt. He pulled away very breathing heavy,

“Lets go somewhere more comfortable”

He picked me up in his arms carrying me to his bedroom, he sat me gently on the edge of the bed. He pulled his shirt from over his head the droplets of water from his hair landed on his chest rolling down each set of abs to the top of his jeans. I couldn't resist it any longer, I placed my hands on his chest feeling his racing heart beneath. I scraped my nails lightly over his stomach, a soft groan escaped his lips.

“Adra”

His voice lit a fire deep inside my stomach, I wanted him now. Eyes full of lust he climbed onto the bed hovering over me showering my exposed body parts with hot breathy kisses, his eyes lighting up with each article of clothing he shed from my body. Meanwhile Sid had come home and noticed the wet footprints on the carpet leading to Sean's room. He ,quietly walked to the door and leaned his ear against it, soft moans escaped Adra's lips, while Sean made rhythmic groans.

“Ah Sean”

Sid listened to her muffled screams, he grin sheepishly and went to his room for the night. I  awoke to the singing of birds outside the window, the day was bright and beautiful. I tried to get up and I felt a heavy weight around my waist. It was Sean's arm wrapped around me holding me close to his chest. I grinned slightly remembering the night before events. I felt him stir next to me, he breathed in the smell of my hair and smiled,

“Good morning princess”

“Good morning Sean”

“Sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm”

He kissed the tip of my ear lobe,

“Did you have fun last night?”

I giggled as his breath tickled my ear,

“Yes”

He kissed my neck down to my shoulder, he whispered against my skin

“Its such a beautiful Sunday morning”

My eyes widened,

“Oh my god its Sunday and I haven't prepared for the case at all!”

I held my hands in my hands, dammit, I'm going to screw this case up! In a panic I jumped out of bed, and started putting on my still damp clothes. Sean wrapped a sheet around his waist and stopped me,

“Calm down, I'm going to be your second chair. We can prepare together”

“You are going to be my wing man?”

“Heh, yeah I guess I am”

He placed a soft kiss on my forehead, he went to the bathroom where he got dressed. I sat down on the sofa and started to go over documents, who I was going to call, what I was going ask, I huffed out a puff of air pulling my hair back in a messy ponytail. The sound of Mozart's Requiem in d minor flooded my ears with beautiful music, Sean came and plopped down beside me cracking his knuckles.

“Okay lets get started”  

We worked nonstop well into the afternoon, I yawned softly looking at my cellphone one o'clock. I felt better after Sean helped me and reassured me he would be there for me until Giles came back.

“Its about time I headed home”

“If you insist, although you could stay here another night, Ill make sure you get up for court tomorrow”

He grinned at me,

“Heh, thank you but I need some clean clothes and a shower. I'm sure Giles is dying ask me a million questions too.”

“Alright I'll walk you out”

I followed Sean to front door, passing Sid relaxing on the couch again watching sports center this time. He nodded as we passed, a smile on his face. Sean opened the door, I stood in the threshold looking up at him,

“Are you sure you will okay walking home?”

“I'll be fine Sean”

He leaned down pressed his lips softly to mine, I pulled away

“If you keep kissing me like that, I won't want to leave”

He smiled and leaned in for another kiss, I pressed my index finger against his lips stopping him. He frowned, I kissed his cheek and left a huge smile on my face. I stood outside the building looking up at the windows kicking myself because I left. I didn't want to leave but I also didn't want things to move to fast either. I turned down main street, it should take me about fifteen minutes to get home from here. I walked slowly pulling the collar of my jacket close to my face, the cool wind chilled my exposed neck. I kept my head down while I walked, my phone starting ringing in my pocket. I stopped and pulled out my phone to see who it was, I laughed answering the phone.

“Sean I just left”

“ I just wanted to make sure your okay, where are you?”

“I;m outside the old cbgb's store, I'm about five minutes from the apartment”

“Do you want me to come get you?”

“I'm fine really”

A black van pulled up behind me while I talked to Sean, I felt a pair of strong arms grab me from behind causing me drop my phone with a scream. I heard Sean yelling from the phone,

“Adra! Whats wrong? Oh god”

“Sean!”

A man placed a white rag doused in chloroform, over my mouth I blacked out in seconds as they pulled me into the van. Sean yelled on the other end of the phone,

“Adra, I'm coming just hold on!”

Sean ran as fast as he could, finally coming to the cbgb building. He stopped huffing and puffing, he saw Adra's phone laying on the ground. He picked it up and held it to his chest, he quickly called the cops. I awoke in a to find myself in a dimly lit room of something that looked like an old warehouse, my head pounded. I soon found out I bound to a wooden chair, I began to kick and scream. The door to the room opened and in strolled Louis Howard, he clicked his tongue dissatisfied.  

“A lady should not conduct herself in this manor”

“What do you want?”

He grinned widely as he stepped beside me and punched me square in the jaw the brass knuckles that he wore breaking it instantly. Blood poured from my mouth, another blow landed in my chest taking my breath away, the next landed in my stomach. He leaned in and whispered closely to my ear,

“You should have took my plea deal”

I blacked out from the immense pain slumping over in the chair. Louis looked down at Adra's limp body, he spoke to one of his men,

“Call me when she is wake”

Sean sat in the police precinct clenching his fists, a sweaty and nervous mess. Giles sat next to him his hands on his head, shaking his leg uncontrollably. Two detective came to speak to him and Giles,

“I'm detective Burkhardt and this detective Meier. We are the leads on your missing friends case”

“We are going to do our very best to find her”

Sean hung his head low and blamed himself for letting her leave, letting her walk home alone. Giles shed tear after tear, praying nothing had happened to her. I raised my head I was still in the same room, I could only open one eye, the other had been swollen shut. My breathing was ragged, I had no idea what day is was or what time it is for that matter, all I could see in the dim light that hung over head. Louis walked in the room again shortly after I had awoken. My body wavered and my head moved from side to side as I tried to look at him in his cold eyes. I struggled to speak my jaw throbbed,

“Why..are...doing...this?”

Its all I managed to say, I hung my head relishing the pain in my mouth. Louis cleared his throat,

“I told you that you should have taken my plea, now you going to pay with your life”

He pulled my head back by my hair, spitting in my face. He punched me in the side, I felt my ribs cracking beneath his hand, I blacked out once more. Sean stormed in the precinct looking for Burkhardt and Meier, he found them and slammed Meier against the wall.

“Its been two days and you guys are sitting here eating donuts and drinking coffee, what the fuck are you guys doing?”

Burkhardt pulled Sean from Meier,

“Watch yourself Mr. Grandier or I will lock you up”

“Its fine Al”

He smoothed out his jacket slowly,

“Sean, you need to go home. We are doing all we can, I promise you will be the first to know if we find anything”

Sean slammed his fist against the wall his face red with anger storming out of the station. I felt ice cold water douse my body shocking me awake, the pain had become numb by this time. I  looked up to see Louis before me once again, I felt the cold steel barrel of a gun touch my forehead, I prayed for death at that moment. I closed my eyes and remembered Sean's smile, I smiled  slightly as Louis pulled the trigger, everything went black. They loaded Adra's lifeless body back into the van and dumped her under the East  River bridge. Someone in a passing taxi saw her lifeless form and called police. Her pulse was shallow when they arrived, she was beaten beyond recognition. Taken to the hospital she was put into a medical induced coma. Sean was sitting at the apartment with Giles and Alyn, he didn't want to be alone. His cellphone started ringing in his pocket and after seeing Burkhardt's name on the screen he quickly answered it,

“Yes what it is? Did you find her?”

“Yes Mr. Grandier she is at the hospital in critical condition”

“Ill be right there”

He hung up the phone, Giles and Alyn quickly followed him to Mercy Hospital. They found her room, the sight of her made Sean's heart sink. A machine had to breathe for her, so many hoses and tubes coming out of her tiny body. He knelt next to her bed, grabbing her hand, squeezing it gently he started to cry. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. She still laid silent in the hospital bed, motionless. Sean hardly left her side at all, Giles came by to visit everyday. Today was special in particular, sentencing for Louis Howard started to today, they matched the dried saliva on Adra's face to his DNA. He was found guilty on three counts of murder and one count attempted murder, sentenced to life in prison without the possibly of parole. Sean looked over at Adra holding her hand,

“Did you hear that? You put him away for life”

Sean kissed her on the forehead. Tears started streaming down his cheeks, dropping on her face.

“We won Adra. We won my love”

Her body had completely healed but her brain activity still hadn't returned to normal. Sean played music for her every night, her favorites Mozart and Beethoven. He laid beside her holding her limp body close singing into her ear, the same song every night before he fell asleep,

“I am with you always, from the darkness of night, until the morning, I am with you always, from life until death takes me”

He kissed her forehead, whispering in her ear,

“I love you Adra, I fell for you the first day I met you. I can't bare going through life without such an amazing person by my side. Please if you hear me, wake up”

Her face twitched slowly, her hand squeezed his, Sean screamed for someone

“Doctor! Nurse! Come quickly”

Her brain scan began to beep showing signs of activity, her eyelids fluttered struggling to open. Sean stood at her side holding her hand tightly. I opened my eyes to harsh white lights, I held my hand in front of my eyes adjusting to the light my eyes psychically hurt but I could open them both. I was confused, the pain that racked my body before was gone. I heard a sniffle from beside me, I looked over to see Sea crying next to me a smile on his face.

“Your finally awake”

I struggled to speak but my voice was gone, the nurse held a cup of water. I sipped the cold liquid through the straw wetting my throat. I breathed in and tried again looking at Sean the entire time,

“I-I”

I cleared my throat once again,

“I heard everything you've said and I  have to tell you something”

I felt hot tears stinging my eyes threatening to spill out.

“Thank you for the music, singing to me while holding me close to you, I thought I was never going to feel your touch again. You are the only reason I clung to live, but more importantly. I love you too”

Sean kissed my cheek softly. Another few months passed by before being released from the hospital, I had to learn how to walk again, my muscles had deteriorated to almost nothing. I stepped outside with Sean holding my hand, the dark blue ring on my finger shined in the sunlight. I let the light shine on my face, it had been almost year since I felt the rays of the sun on my skin. The warm breeze blew my hair into my eyes as I took a deep breath in, taking all the scents I have missed. Sean stood watching me

smiling, he pulled me close wrapping an arm around my waist,

“Miss Lockhart, shall we go see Giles? I'm sure he is dying to see you”

“Not right now, I want to do something else”

“What might that be?”

I smiled up him wrapping my arms around his neck,

“I've been dying to feel your touch again. Could we head to your place first?”

“Of course princess”

He smiled that smile that I envisioned the moment I thought I was going to die. Now I get to live with it for the rest of my life. I held his hand tightly never wanting to let go, he was my prince and I his princess. I knew the moment I laid eyes on him a year ago in that elevator, he had stolen my heart for eternity.

[davidaolson]

Awakened by a Demon

The demon screeched as if being tortured in the pits of hell where every last inch of its flesh was flayed and the writhing, skinless, oozing body was dipped in rock salt and set on a slow-burning flame.

“Uh-Ooooooo, Oh-Noooooo, Tu-Qoooooo, Fu-Quuuuu, Quuuu-Quu-uuu-uu-u”

It’s screeching shattered the still of the night. Not just once. Over and over for the better part of an hour. It screeched. Then the lull during which my heart settled and I felt sleep crawling from between the sheets, my eyes growing heavy. Until it screeched again. Four screams in a sequence with the last sputtering words decaying like a loosely mounted motor running out of gas forcing every cell in my body to high alert. Danger, Will Robison.

The beast had to be close. Beast? Or was it a ghost? A demon? A demon ghost hybrid. The locals are superstitious. Stories of ghosts and spirits are commonplace. Just tonight, I learned Auntie would not go to the upstairs floor in her own home. Her own home! A place she lived for decades because she believes it is haunted. Yet, it is ok for the maid and the grandkids to sleep up there. How much of the belief is based in fact? How much is fiction from a people steeped in superstition? I noticed I am fingering the smooth leather medicine bag I’ve worn around my neck since my encounter with Rattlesnake in New Mexico a couple of weeks earlier. I guess a Western education does not immunize one from a belief in amulets or the evil they keep at bay.

The noise seemed to be coming from just outside the sliding glass doors of my room in the Abuyog hotel. It may be a ventriloquist. The identified location a misdirection and it was nearer. Under the bed??? Did I remember to lock the window? “Fu-Quuuuu”. Is the demon studying me from behind a curtain of darkness? Behind the corner armoire? “Quuuu-Quu-uuu-uu-u.” Let’s rationalize. Maybe it’s a screaming cat. A cat in preheat sparring with an overzealous mate attempting to force a dry fuck, or a night bird trying to spook a twitchy nose rat into breaking cover and running, perhaps the Philippine version of a Screech Owl, the tufty eared, bug-eyed predator out for the nightly hunt. Screech Owl? Screeching Owl. Yes.

The noise tortures me. I am also tormented by claws scratching the floor in the room directly above me. Or, is in hiding between the ceiling and the floor? If it found a way to infiltrate the hotel, is my room safe? Is it rats? Is the Fu-Quuuuu demon inside the hotel trying to catch a rat? Does it have the flexibility to escape through a hole and emerge in my room? Is it a rat jousting with a slithering snake? Will the snake find refuge in the pipes and poke a triangular head out of the toilet bowl during my morning constitutional sinking teeth into my meaty, muscley ass or, shudder, ball sack? I better check the bowl then shit while hovering.

I cowered stock still sweating in the bed. My pillow is soaked through to both sides. My heart pounds. What time is it? I slowly looked at my phone. 3 am. 3 fucking am and I’m wide awake. 3 am. Much too early to chase a sunrise. And going outside in the dead of night could mean an encounter with the Fu-Quuuuu demon. Is it taking a clue from the owl playbook, trying to spook me from my safe sanctuary into vulnerable open space? I want to run. But, I imagine going up to the roof and facing Fu-Quuuuuu followed by my own fading Oh-Noooooo as it devours me, head first, or hexes my life ensuring I die tragically, or scares me so deeply my hair roots die and white strands sparsely cover my head. Irrational? Who’s to say what evil lurks in the heart of demons.

I lay unmoving for the next two hours too terrified to reach beyond the bed for the lamp for fear the demon is throwing its voice beyond the glass as it sits beneath my bed waiting to tear off any limb extending beyond the bed’s edge. Too frightened to reach over to my wife for comfort for fear the beast would hear me move and be triggered to attack the way running prey triggers a bear to give chase. I lay petrified waiting for the rising sun to send the safety of daylight.

“Did you hear the demon last night?” It wasn’t until the second morning hearing the awful screeching that I overcame my embarrassment and felt comfortable discussing the screaming, screeching demon.

“Demon?”

“Ya, that loud screaming.”

“Screaming? That was a tukó, one of our local geckos. The name is from the sound it makes. Tu-koooooo. Tu-koooooo.” It’s a cute lizard. Good luck in the home.

“I didn’t hear no Tu-koooooo. I heard “Uh-Ooooooo, Oh-Noooooo, Tu-Qoooooo, Fu-Quuuuu, Quuuu-Quu-uuu-uu-u.” My voice decayed quicker than tukó at the end of a chant. “Cough. Cough.” I look at her. No sympathy for my feigned cough. It’s no use. I know it. She knows it. There is no way for me to save face. I feel the fool for being distraught because the unfamiliar voice squawked by a little lizard frightened the hell out of me. And I am simultaneously excited knowing Rattlesnake may have been speaking capital ‘T’ Truth.

The Ambien Zombie

The waking up before the sun theme lasted the entire trip. Jet lag from jumping 13 time zones over 24 hours requires the better part of two weeks for me to fully adjust. We were only a few days into the trip. Once my body clock adjusts to local sun cycles, we head back to Chicago where I endure another two weeks of screwed up sleeping schedules. Plus I have a very difficult time sleeping in a sitting position. On long-haul flights, I use prescription Ambien to help me sleep and adjust to a new time zone.

I’ve head stories of Ambien zombies, perfectly nice people zombified by the drug especially when mixed with Alcohol. They babble incoherently, have even been known to strip naked and wall about the plane. All with no recollection when then come down.

Always, until this trip, I enjoyed my Ambien induced coma without incident waking refreshed on the flip side. Win-win. The episode between Chicago and Taiwan will keep me away from Ambien the rest of the trip and will probably be the last time I ever use the sleep aid. I became the dreaded Ambien Zombie.

I took two as soon as my luggage was stowed in the overhead before buckling into my middle seat, next to my aisle seated wife, for the 15-hour flight taking off at 12:30 am. Normally, I fly long haul alone. There have never been complaints so I assume my induced sleep is simply a deep, dreamless sleep. Not so this time where I experienced two vivid dreams.

The first was of me walking around the airplane in slow motion. In the dream, I was unable to pronounce Pinot Noir in a way the flight attendant understood. I rarely eat airplane food, aside from crackers and fruit cups, because the smell while still in the carts makes me nauseous. But, I ordered the beef dish. And I ordered a whiskey which I mixed with apple juice. The obnoxious concoction was promptly spilled mostly onto my wife’s tray overflowing into her lap. I looked at the mess and returned to eating with all the dexterity and urgency of a sloth. All this, I later learned from my irritated wife, actually happened but I was too stoned on the sleeping pill to realize it.

I now wonder if those previous trips were simply a relaxed deep sleep or I acted the fool. I’ve never been arrested or deboarded so I’m going to guess there were no exceedingly unseemly events.

The second dream was rather bizarre.

Tukó, the gecko lizard, and I are sitting face to face in chairs. This is a giant Tukó, big as a double homunculus human. It’s feet dangle above the floor, the fat tail wrapped around the chairback providing balance. Tukó has no butt so sitting is difficult. The pink tongue licks its eyes the way a dog tongues its snout clean after eating. The mouth opens, sound spill out, the mouth closes. The eyes look at me, expectantly. The mouth opens again, “Who-Ooooooo. Fu-Quuuuuu”

Language gap. Unlike my encounter with Rattlesnake who spoke in words I understood, there is a definite language gap with Tukó, a gap exacerbated by the human lizard culture gap.

“Sorry, I don’t understand,” I said wondering if the language barrier was two way.

Tukó reaches out a closed hand palm up, turns it over, unfurls the five thick fingers revealing a very small gecko. It couldn’t have been longer than one-inch nose to tail. He pumps his hand up and down motioning me to take it. I reach out and it crawls, without hesitation, into my hand. I can feel the stickiness of the toe pads. It’s a little like tearing apart velcro with every step.

“Emmm…” how to be culturally sensitive here? Is it simply a gift? Am I supposed to eat it? We are in Asia where feeding guests is standard hospitality and refusing to eat offered food an insult. I look at it again. Well, at least it isn’t balut. I hope I don’t gag. I force a smile,” Thank you”. And move it toward my mouth.

Tukó chatters frantically. “Nuh-Oooooo. Nuh-Ooooooo.”

I stop midway, mouth agape.

Tukó points to the side of its head. I am still very confused. “What? What do I do?”

Tukó deftly grabs the miniscule gecko from my hand and places it next to my head. It crawls into my ear canal. A shiver starts from my ear and runs all the way down to my toes. This is worse than one gulp needed to swallow it. I am scared. No. Terrified. I once saw a movie where a person was strapped to a table while a villain in a white lab coat looked on. The villain grabbed an earwig from a bucket of crawling earwigs using a longish pair of zircon encrusted tweezers and proceeded to stick the wiggling bug into the man’s ear. The man screamed in agony as the earwig slowly ate its way through his brain until it reached the center killing him. Was I about to begin a ghastly death?

“Can you understand me now, David? You should be able to.”

“I…I can understand you.” What the hell was going on?

“That is a Babel Gecko. It is similar to the Babel Fish. You do know what a Babel Fish is, David?”

“Yes, I do.” My pride swells. I read the six books in the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy trilogy and knew the answer. “A babel fish is fictitious It’s small, yellow and leech-like. It crawls into the ear of a person suctioning onto the eardrum enabling the person to understand any language in the universe.”

“Close.”

“Close? I read all the books and saw the tv show. I know what a Babel Fish is.”

“It is not fictitious.” Tukó emphasized ‘fictitious’ by making air quotes with those fat finger hands. “It exists just not in our space-time continuum. Douggy Adams was taken up by aliens and moved between space-time streams. Eventually, the brought him back but failed to erase all the memories from his time away. Those books he wrote contained fractal representations of that time. Now, what you have in your ear is a Babel Gecko. It has the ability to translate all animal, tree, and rock people communication into your human language which is why you now understand me. It cannot translate human to human because the primitive human language causes the Babel Gecko to deteriorate from the inside out.”

“Primitive human language? Human language is the most sophisticated ever devised.”

“Typical human arrogance. It is not the most sophisticated on earth and considered white noise in other worlds. It’s why the beings on distant planets don’t bother responding to the signals and probes you send into deep space. You, humans, communicate only with sound with the exception of visual artists. Unless the artworks are straightforward, you misinterpret them as well. We animals have the ability to communicate with and without sound. We can communicate with color, physical motion, smell, telepathically and any combination. It is called ‘voice’ and is sophisticated beyond human comprehension while being transparently simple to all nonhumans. Babel Gecko translates all voice into approximations of human words. You may sense gaps, sometimes elongated, in the translation because the Babel Gecko must dumb it down for your comprehension.”

“Okayyy. There are insects and other lizards in this room. Why don’t I hear them?” I got him. There was no recovery from this argument.

Tukó chuckled. Paused. “The Babel Gecko knows. Humans like claiming they are good at multi-tasking. But it is impossible for the primitive human brain to focus on more than one task at a time. The Babel Gecko’s sophistication allows it to tune into the vibration of your thought waves then filter the many voices allowing only the one on which you are attempting to focus. This is why you don’t hear the mosquitoes discussing the sweetness of your wife’s blood they are sampling while she showers or the very large spider behind the shower room curtain singing a siren song to lure those same mosquitoes into its lethal web.”

“That sounds quite far-fetched.”

“Of course you would say that. Liars have a hard time believing the truth.”

“Liars?”

“Come now David, you are fully aware humans tell as many lies as they do truths. Even the quote-unquote truths tend to be embellished.”

I have to admit he is correct. I like to think I am truthful to a fault but know, in my heart, I am prone to embellishing my stories. Innocent enough but still, why not just relate facts?

“We in the animal world are incapable of telling lies. Our communication is always congruous. Our voice, true. The body, our colors, telepathy, and words are always in sync. Though, one should be extremely careful when communicating with a split tongue being such as Rattlesnake. With them, truth halves and they may allow one half only to slip off a tongue branch into the world. Half truths are deceptive. Lying by omission of the whole truth, nothing but the truth, so help me by one of the thousands of Gods, is still lying.”

Gecko stopped talking, stared up at the ceiling. Was it hungry? looking for bugs? Too much silence for my taste, a vacuum needing filling.

“Thank you for the gift of the Babel Gecko.”

“It’s NOT yours.” Heavy emphasis on the NOT. “It is a loan. It will crawl out and away before you leave the Philippines. It would be dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“Dangerous? You can trust me. I won’t let anything happen to it.”

“Fu-Quuuuuu!”

“Sorry, I didn’t understand you. I think the Babel Gecko is on the fritz.”

“It’s working just fine. And you heard me correctly. I said, ‘Fuck you!’ Your people have brought nothing but misery to this planet and my people ever since you left the trees in your hairy pre-hominid days and started building cities. You bred, still, breed like roaches, and continue spreading your pestilence! No offense to roaches. They are a hearty people. It’s simply a reality your mind can’t grasp.”

“Sorry?”

“Was that a question?” His color changed slightly. A red hue undertoned the skin. Can they color shift like chameleons? The gold eyes pulsed.

“Um, Sorry! I apologize for the human race.”

“It’s too late for apologies. The damage is done. We will all pay the price for your unchecked infestation. You humans most of all.”

“Really? What’s gonna happen?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, Yes I do. I have a right to know.”

“Rights is a human philosophical construct. There are no such thing as rights there only is existence. But, I will tell you. There’s nothing you can do to change the future. It will start when Big Ben strikes thirteen…” vrrrrt. vrrrrt. vrrrrt “…the blood moon will crumble…” vrrrrt. vrrrrt. vrrrrt.

vrrrrt. vrrrrt. vrrrrt. My vibrating watch alarm, set for the morning in Chicago, pulled me out of the Ambien slumber. I was still mired in a stupor, still mashed into the too small middle seat in the exit row, still on the plane heading to Taiwan. I dreamt it all.

An Expected Unexpected Trip

We weren’t supposed to be in the Philippines this year. Our trip to Southeast Asia was scheduled, tentatively scheduled, for 2019. January or February, opposite typhoon season, when the cold still strangled Chicago and the Philippines was a beacon of near perfect warmth. We planned to forego Belize where we had lizard basked in the sun for a week each of the previous two Winters and make our 3rd trip in 6 years to my wife’s homeland, her hometown. Her father was aging quickly. His health was not the greatest. Each of our last two visits we believed was the last to see him alive.

The dreaded call, came on a Friday a few days after we returned from New Mexico. Just as Rattlesnake foreshadowed. The following Friday, we were crammed into a plane for the 24 hour trip from Chicago to Manila this time via Taiwan. We overnighted in Manila then took an early flight to Tacloban City in Leyte. It was a short flight. Most flights between the islands in the archipelago are about an hour. We spent more time in lines and waiting in the terminal than airborne. Such is the curse of modern travel.

Our Manila hotel was an apartment. Inexpensive, great air conditioning which we desperately needed in a 90/90 country. The temps were 90+ Fahrenheit and the humidity was upward of 90% all day every day. Life in 90/90 means the sun feels heavy, a burden one must carry like an overloaded backpack even in the relatively cool shade. It was almost possible to extract a glass full of water with every few breaths. Sweat was my Eau de cologne. Not of choice but the natural order of life. The body must cool itself. The inexpensiveness of the apartment means one foregoes amenities like on-premise restaurants. The neighboring Marriott goes for $200 a night. For me, it’s a no-brainer tradeoff. Though, walking between our place and the restaurants in the pouring rain, Manila was in the middle of a typhoon, while sharing a single umbrella is a downer.

Our flight to Tacloban was in the early morning, too early to find a breakfast place. Plus we were reluctant to walk to the nearby hotels and be pelted by the typhoon drenching Manila and snarling traffic. The food at the domestic airport did not appeal to me. This all added up to being hungry upon arrival in Tacloban.

Stuffing My Face With Outdoor Chicken at Andoks

Our choice of eateries on the road to Abuyog is limited. There’s a McDonald’s or, on the opposite side of the street, Andok’s Chicken. Just the thought of McD’s makes my stomach cringe so, when asked, I requested Andok’s. I think it surprised our hosts. Andok’s is an open-air eating establishment with the food cooked on an outdoor spit behind a three-sided glass enclosure. It looks and smells succulent. We order, carry our chilled pop, without ice, to a clean table next to a table where a group recently vacated.

Our conversation is primarily in the local language, meaning I think it my own bubble. It is an existence with which I am more than content. I half listen to the ambient noise, sip my rapidly warming pop. Curse the ice made with unfiltered water. My inner life is active. I rarely grow bored. I am content to sit and think while they conversed. After all, they have a deep history and I don’t speak but a few words in their language. To expect them to accommodate my desires would be selfish. We achieved yin-yang balance.

I catch a whiff of a stench and look around to see if an open sewer is nearby. Nope. There’s a person at the adjacent table who I at first think is a worker cleaning up but noticed she’s eating the leftover food. Nibbling whatever morsel she can from the chicken bones, tilting the bottle to drain last drops of soda. When finished picking the plates clean, she walks toward us and reaches out for my half-empty water bottle. They told her no. I try an appear nonchalant.

Her face is oddly shaped. Is she mentally challenged? A mild Down’s Syndrome. There is a strangeness to her eyes. She walks behind me on her way beyond the restaurant boundary and I realize the malodor is not an open sewer. It is her. She never says a word at our table nor while she waits, like a feral dog outside the range of stick and stones, for opportunities to pick at leftovers. She took a position further from us than the strays sniffing the chicken laden air on the periphery. Is this how she is forced to survive. Does she view herself as lesser than dogs which is why she waits beyond them? Is she viewed by the locals as lesser than a dog? Does this society have more empathy for the canid than the hominid? I soon find out.

My companions drop back into their lingua franca freeing me to eat the delivered chicken and ruminate in the less visited antechambers hidden in my mind. I think back to the unplanned nature of this trip and its prognostication by Rattlesnake two weeks prior while we explored the wilds in Nueva México. A little Spanish thrown into the narrative. I’m not totally oblivious to other languages just lack fluency in any but English. Tubig means water in Tagalog and Salamat is thank you. Two words I need to get by in this country.

Rattlesnake told me. Is that the right phraseology? No. It is more apt to say Rattlesnake warned me that Tukó harnessed the temperament of a trickster with the ability to shapeshift. Trickster spirits take human form by day changing to animal form when Sun is replaced by Moon. He warned me, a preferred form for Tukó was that of an impoverished, mute woman. Is this woman a human being or a spirit being? Are her eyes a bit off or did the Rattlesnakes tales fill my head with imagined realities?

I try from a distance to see her eyes. Are the human round pupiled or vertical gecko pupiled. I cannot see clearly from where I sit. Would round pupils, tell me anything? If Trickster shapeshifts to a human, wouldn’t it also mimic the eye design? Perhaps the human form is a shell and a vertical pupil exists behind the round pupil. In the right light, would I be able to see the Trickster behind the translucent human-like eye?

I catch myself absentmindedly rubbing my medicine bag. Instinct once again overrides my Western University education predicated on logic. I doubt this would have been the case before I encountered the talking Spirit Rattlesnake and the Ancient One that set him free from the large stone. That singular event rocked my understanding of reality and now I am unsure where the division between real and imaginary exists. Or are they one and the same?

I look at her askance. Not wanting anyone to know I am staring but I need to know her nature. What is that movement? Did she just flick a pink tongue over her eyes?

Our stomachs full, my companions start tossing chicken bones to a yellow furred mongrel. It’s a stray. Heavy teated. Dirty. Patchy fur from fighting other curs. It inches closer, warily, until it is next to our table. Hunger trumps fear. Western dogs who are rarely given chicken bones. One because in America dogs are on par with humans. And because of the belief, their digestive system is too sensitive for the tiny spears. They give all the chicken leftovers to the dog. The dog eats. The hungry woman looks on. They pet the dog, a few affectionate pats on the head. They tell her she’s a pretty dog. Eventually, they give the woman a chunk of pork. No kind words. No affectionate touch. They don’t tell her she is pretty.

Is giving her food kindness? I don’t see it that way. We give of our excess. Our trash. A mouthful she would have helped herself to after we left. It seems to me more a guilt offering. But this is my perspective, the view of an outsider out of tune with the spoken language and the cultural context. My conscience is not assuaged.

I ate too much and I struggle with churning guilt grinding at my insides. I try to rationalize my lack of action as not wanting to throw a stone in the culture pool and start unexpected ripples that might upset the natural order. But it is simply a rationalization, a lie told to the self.

Truth is, I am wretched. Not the poor woman with little access to food. Me the overweight, self-centered glutton who ate my fill, more than my fill until I was sluggish, without thinking of her hunger. Ate until I was stuffed beyond need. As I think this, I looked sheepishly at her one more time with my eyes hidden behind my dark sunglasses. I swear her eyes flash gold for the time it takes to snap my fingers, flash gold with a vertical slit and the hint of an almost smile.

There is still an hour’s drive to our hotel. An hour where I am reminded of my wretchedness with every home we pass cobbled together using uneven wooden planks leaving open seams in the walls, and discarded sheet metal roofs creating oven temperatures in direct sunlight, homes without running water or electricity, homes without screens to keep the mosquitoes at bay.

I had forgotten the extent of the poverty in the country, forgotten the face of a similar poverty I saw every day in India and vowed never to ignore. Forgotten how blessed I am to have access to quality medical care, two cars in the family, a home with climate control, the means to travel eight thousand miles and stay in a comfortable hotel with a roof from which to enjoy the sun climbing spectacularly orange over an ocean horizon. And, always, the promise of a warm meal greeting our every arrival at Auntie’s home.

Auntie’s House

It is customary in the Philippines for a family member to host the deceased for the nine days preceding the funeral including the feed those coming to pay their respects. On day ten, the funeral is held. There are additional ceremonies at prescribed intervals following the entombment with the last at the one year anniversary.

Aunties home became the makeshift funeral parlor with the casket prominently displayed in the family room, the first sight when entering the front door. On the trip over, I wondered how people tolerated the stink of the slowly decaying body. It turns out, in this case at least for they do not live below the poverty line, the casket was top tier including a clear, glass covering. Hermetically sealed. Any odor would be confined.

We arrive on day 7 and visit daily until the funeral which ended up being delayed until day 10 for want of an available officiate. Each time we enter food is offered within a few minutes. In the Philippines, serving food is equivalent to saying, “I love you.”

I love chicken adobo and pancit. Have grown accustomed to heaping bowls of rice. But not so much the bony fish, too much work to separate the flesh from the sharp bones. Nor am I a fan of dinuguan. Pig’s blood adds a strong iron taste to the soup. By the third day, my palate craves variety. Our farm visit added a touch of variety. Virgin coconuts freshly felled from the trees with a machete have the sweetest milk. Locally grown greens added to a soup of freshly killed chicken, head included. It is a self-supporting chicken so the meat is on the chewy side. Of course, heaps of steaming rice, for a meal minus rice is only a snack.

The trip to the farm is different than past adventures. The ferry was bypassed by a bridge. It’s not strong enough to support a car so we walk across and board a motorput for the final distance to the farm. It terrifies one of the aunties so she opts for the ferry on the way back. It is dubbed the dancing bridge for it sways while we walk across.

Aside from one fast food place, there are no restaurants in town, none with hygiene necessary to sensitive Western stomachs. The last thing I want is Montezuma to seek revenge while I’m in the Philippines. On our final full day in Abuyog, Cousin remembers a new Italian restaurant owned/operated by a real Italian at the far north end of the city outside the town proper. I am skeptical. Authentic Italian food in the middle of a small town? How is possible? We eat there for lunch. Stay to swim and eat dinner as well. It is heavenly. And we finally have wine to accompany our dinner. There are no liquor stores in Abuyog, my wife tells me. No place to buy wine. We find the last day she is wrong. There is a liquor store a very short walk from our hotel. We leave tomorrow. No time for a bottle of red or a chilled white.

Daily temps are 90/90. Yet the homes have no air conditioning not even the nicer ones like Auntie’s or Cousins. I mostly visit after sundown to avoid the heaviest heat. As soon as I enter, someone adjusts both oscillating fans to ensure I was in their path and had a smidge of relief from the heat. Still, after about an hour, I am sweat soaked and head back to the hotel to bask, sometimes naked, in the air conditioning, temperature set on stun.

Some of the visitors we encounter are comfortable enough with English to greet me and ask if I am hungry. Hungry or not, food is still served. They can speak quite a bit more but are embarrassed to speak the language with someone who is fluent. The fear of making mistakes and possibly looking foolish is strong. I speak no Waray, the local dialect, so welcome any attempt at English. I do not push the issue. It is my preference they enjoyed the company of my wife. These are her people and holes are rent in the fabric of their family during her absence. Our visits are a time they all participate in mending the holes, a tribe working together to sew up the holes in the fishing net. I enjoy watching her. She becomes highly animated when conversing in her native dialect. I sit and watch from my familiar bubble.

For most of my life, I have felt an outsider, apart from the group, isolated. No matter how hard I tried to fit in, I was (am) the puzzle piece that doesn’t fit. I have come to accept isolation is endemic to my DNA and I have learned to thrive in solitude. So much so, it has gradually become my preferred mode of being. I inhabit a bubble. Bubble boy.

The isolation becomes a shroud when visiting a land where my language is an afterthought or a nonthought. Non-language can be a wall. A wall of our own making when we chose to remain monolingual.

Unless one has extensive practice existing in isolation, whether by choice to remain apart from people or one is forced into it by dint of not speaking a common tongue, it can be a terrifying space. The sharing of even a few phrases gives hope, creates connection.

Many, probably most, of the native-born US citizenry speaks English only. Bilingualism, sadly, is an anomaly, a logical outcome of communal arrogance. “If you don’t speak Amurican you ain’t worth talking at“. It sucks that multilingualism is viewed as an unnecessary expense by most school boards in the United States. Worse, speaking any language other than English is increasingly, thanks to the orange buffoon, viewed as unAmerican, unpatriotic. If he truly wants to make America great, he should emphasize multilingualism in the schools verbal as well as speaking the languages of the arts.

For the ‘Build the Wall’ types, being in the midst of people who speak a language in addition to English, or worse, only English is uncomfortable exacerbating their fearfulness. They would rather isolate themselves with a border wall than face their fear. Build an isolating wall because of a fear of being isolated. Oh, the irony.

The proposed border wall between Mexico and the United States is a concept buttressed by fear, a foolish attempt to medicate anxiety. Like the antidepressant Prozac, it creates the illusion the situation is different. Perception is more important than reality.

Me, I am thankful for the multilingual. They can help build a bridge between us.

On our previous visit to the Philippines, I learned the concept of beer English. We were at the beach celebrating our marriage with lots of fresh food and buckets of beer. For the most part, I watched the waves kicking up against the shore and the fishermen in their small boats pulling in nets. Once in a while, there would be a word I understood in their language pulling me into their reality before I returned to watching. From a raging sea of Waray, an English speaking fish breached the water, hung in the air. A cousin started speaking to me in English. I was incredulous.

“You’re speaking English?”

“It’s beer English. We only speak English after drinking five beers.” Everyone laughed. And I was included in parts of the conversation until the beer was gone and we parted for our own homes.

There does not seem to be a drinking culture at wakes in the Philippines. Consequently, there was no beer English, very little conversation drawing me in. My ears do prick up when I catch one of the few Waray words I understand. Salamat for thank you. Tubig for water. O-O for yes. Mostly, at Aunties, I retreat to the sanctity of my bubble from which I people watch.

The Honking Huge Spider

I was in my sanctum one evening when I saw the short, jerky movement of a black object overhead. The homes, the ones I have visited, have no screens. Geckos and insects are regular visitors. In the ceiling line, where the ceiling meets the wall, a massive spider. I am not one to shy away from the creepies or the crawlies but this monster caused chills to shoot down my spine and escape through my toes where they hid in the shadows of a bookcase.

The spider is a good 5 inches in diameter with a body big enough to kidnap and drain the blood from a small child in one slurp. Not wanting to interrupt my wife’s animated conversation and appear to be a fraidy cat in front of her family, I stared at her hoping she would feel the intensity of my gaze and look my way so I could lip point, Philippino style, at the gruesome beast. No luck.

I sent mojo vibes through the air figuring the dense humidity would easily carry the signals drop to drop between us and tweak her subconscious. Again no luck. I became increasingly agitated. Should I shout a warning and save everyone’s lives? Or would my alarm raise twitters at the city boys irrational fear of something that amounted to a child’s pet?

I hold my tongue. Chilled fear sweat added to and mixed with my heat sweat. I am both hot and cold.

A gecko darts across the ceiling in the direction of Mr. Monster Spider. It is the biggest I have seen on the trip. Six inches long with a thick body and tail. Was this the Spirit Tukó come to save me?

As gecko draws near to the spider, it scurries until it is directly over my head. The movement is blindingly fast. If the spider decided to attack, could I beat it in a foot race? I am wearing my ultralight Ferrell tennis shoes but don’t know if my old knees can sustain a pace for the duration necessary to be further from the spider than one of the other guests. I didn’t need to be faster than spider just faster than the slowest person to put a victim between me and the monster. Of course, it could just let loose and fall from the ceiling onto my head the moment I look away and siphon all my brain juice.

Gecko appears not to notice Spider. Rather than witness a lizard arachnid skirmish, I watch Gecko descended the wall and take refuge behind a framed picture. Is it, too, afraid of the spider or simply returning to digest a stomach full of insects in a safe space?

Either way, I feel safer with the sentinel Gecko, a natural predator, close by. My protector. My savior. I have long been a fan of geckos. Correction. I love geckos. I wish there were a dozen or so roaming the walls and ceilings in our Chicago home. Wild geckos. Free-range geckos. Not the inmates transferred from animal prisons (aka pet stores) only to be locked in another glass cage inside a home.

A human can’t be human confined to 6′ x 8′ prison cell and still be a human nor can a gecko be a gecko when confined to a small enclosure. The US government confined the American Indians to reservations knowing full well it would crush their souls beyond repair and domesticate the ‘savages’. I don’t want a tamed gecko. It would lose gecko essence. They are harbingers of good luck. If the essence is gone so is the luck. Or, the luck may go negative and bring bad tidings upon the household.

Geckos feast on the crawlies invading the home. And they whisper dreams into your ears during slumber. I could use some vivid dreams. One can never have too many geckos gracing the palace. The praying mantis also eats insects so is beneficial but they don’t dispense dreams. Alas, Chicago has bitter Winters meaning no insect food to sustain geckos. Geckos starve. More bad luck. Geckos are another good reason for me to move to the Desert Southwest. I wonder, is Gecko of my totem?

On our last trip, we were island hopping near Puerto Princessa. I paid a few Philippine pisos for a temporary gecko tattoo over my left shoulder. Since then, I have contemplated a tattoo of Delicate Arch topped by a gecko against a sunset. Almost like it was riding the Arch into the sunset cowboy style. It would make for a great back piece. A symbol of my favorite land, a spirit animal. And if the ink could be made of finely ground red rock dust, it would have in my body the actual where I wish to rest forever. Now, if only there was a way to get inked without needles.

Finally, Irene looks my way. I lip point upward toward the spider careful not to make eye contact and force it into a defensive posture from which attack would be imminent. I do not want the beast finding a path into my head to play mind games.

“What?” she said.

“There’s a spider,” I whisper not wanting to be too obvious.

“What spider? Where?”

“It is above my head.” Emphasis on every syllable. I look up. It’s gone. Disappeared.

“I swear. There was a huge spider,” I show her the size with my hands. “The mother of all spiders. A baby eater for sure!”

She gives me her half twisted smile. The one when she considers my actions foolish, my words moronic, or general idiocy on my part. She returns to her conversation. I feel humiliated. I also grow increasingly agitated. I cannot shake the feeling it is lurking in the shadows studying me with those 12 beady eyes waiting for an opening to pounce and sink those nasty fangs into my delicately soft alabaster neck.

I give a few exaggerated yawns arm stretch overhead but not too high to put them in harm’s way. My wife catches my drift and arranges for a motorput to take me to the hotel though I would prefer to walk. She doesn’t feel it’s safe for a foreigner to walk the streets alone after dark. I stayed safely locked in our airconditioned room until the funeral on the morrow.

Funeral

We hop into a motorput magically appearing right outside our hotel dressed in our blacks and/or whites, the preferred funeral colors but no reds. The motorput is a motorcycle with an attached side cage for passengers. The vehicle is not made for people of my height and girth. I shoehorn myself into the vehicle and endure the short, uncomfortable ride to Aunties. Thankfully, Irene is tiny so we are able to sit side by side. It is early morning and already the heat is surging. The hearse is late, as expected, so we linger in the room with the casket. I check overhead for the massive spider. Nothing. There is no way I am going to sit on the couch for fear it may be hiding between it and the wall. I stand. Watch warily. And exit the house right behind the casket. We are first and second-row mourners walking behind the hearse to the church.

The slow procession begins in full exposure to the sun. I have neither hat nor umbrella to stave the biting light rays boring through my flesh and into my body with the ferocity of a radioactive maggot in rotting meat. I boil from the inside out until sweat seeps from every pore and drops down the crack of my ass, swass. Sweat is the equivalent of body tears. We have only walked two blocks and there is close to a mile remaining. I rejoice inside when we turn from Auntie’s lane onto the thoroughfare to the Church and see trees lining the East side of the street. I strategically slide right and drink in the cooling shade.

A few trees ahead, there is a rustling of leaves. Green ballerinas? There is no breeze. There is, though, a small animal in the branches probably a bird, the monster spider hunting…me, maybe a lizard. We saw large iguanas in the Belizean trees. Would I be lucky here as well and see an interesting lizard or maybe a monkey?

My head cocks upward. I tried to be discreet. But it has to be obvious to the few without tear-soaked eyes. When beneath the fluttering leaves, my head is angled almost straight up, sweat trickles into my eyes. I reach to wipe away the sweat and feel something fall into my mouth. It sticks to my lips for an instant then slips inside. It is no bigger than the broken tip of a toothpick but soft with a slight wiggle. Wiggle?

I don’t want to gag and hack it up causing a scene amidst everyone’s sorrow so fish it with my tongue until it is between my front teeth and I can discreetly grab it. It is soft, pliant, dark with the texture of a lizards tail. A yellowish, juicy substance oozes from the broken end. Lizard blood. My lips tingle. Probably an emotional reaction to chewing lizard tail. It needed some chili peppers.

The Church

We enter the church. The delicious air is a good ten degrees cooler. The wonders of shade and fans to agitate the air. The upper row stained glass windows are open to the outside, to the elements. A few stained glass windows have holes. Vandals chucking rocks? The Doors and side windows are wide open, no screens, allowing nature free passage and a place at the foot of the Lord. Appropriate that the created has a place at the table of the creator. Birds flitted inside the church.

The second thing I notice is White Jesus. This is one of my pet peeves. It is bad enough swarthy people around the world apply caustic chemicals to lighten their skin to attain a twisted ideal of beauty. The Catholic church perpetuates the idea their God-Man was a slender white guy with light hair when they know full well Jesus was a Middle Eastern carpenter who was most likely brown and muscular. Better to show simply the cross as do the Protestant churches than further ingrain the twisted white is right agenda. It really is a disgusting practice.

By the time we reach the front and sit in the first pew nearest the casket, the immediate family pew where I feel completely out of place considering the deceased’s siblings sit further back, the slight tingle has crawled over my lips, slowly spreading until my lips and tongue are numb. What the fuck is going on? The numbness spreads up my cheeks, over my forehead, into my hair then rushed down to my waist. I can still feel my eyebrows and my legs still move. My eyes, too, retain the ability to bounce around their sockets. I can just move my head a few centimeters. The colors grow vivid as if the vibrance slider in Photoshop is pushed to the maximum. Acid trip?

I try to get my wife’s attention. I can’t speak. Can’t move my arms. She is lost in sorrow. We do not connect. The priest enters. The congregation rises. I stand out of instinct? More likely the almost 20 years of attending Catholic Mass imprinted the ritual into my DNA. I will never be free despite being nonCatholic for almost three times the years I spent in Catholic schools. The priest motions us to sit. And we all, in unison, drop to the seated position. Soon would come standing and kneeling and sitting and more standing and more kneeling. Catholic yoga

Sweat rolls down my face burning my eyes. I can not wipe it away. Frantic, I side glanced at my wife again hoping to attract her attention. She is still lost in grief. I am stuck on an island. Bubble boy is isolated. Bubble boy is not enjoying this isolation.

The priest raises his hands heavenward and opens his mouth to pray. Instead of words, sparrows fly out, small brown sparrows emerge from his mouth. Chubby seedeaters. They clumsily fly about until finding purchase on the walls, behind the lights where they cast eerie shadows, perched on the cross where they chirp, chirp, chirp. The longer the priest drones on, the more sparrows rush forth. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Until the altar is coated with brown birds. The mass of birds actually more beautiful than the gilded altar. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Not a pretty song in the bunch though. Chirpy chirp. The language of the birds a fitting eulogy especially since I exist outside the language of the priest and congregation. I would later learn the priest spoke monotone with a message clearly showing he had no personal, first-hand knowledge of the deceased. He was not nearly as coherent or interesting as the chirping sparrows.

At the consecration of the elements when Catholic lore says the wine and host transubstantiate into the blood and body of Christ, swallows explode from the wounds of Christ, streaming out of the hands, feet, and sword pierced side where once flowed blood and water. A steady flow of dark blue tuxedo dressed birds with elegantly curved wings. Each leaves an arced, blood red vapor trail that is pierced by a following bird and shatters into thousands of particles until a red mist hangs in the air like a dense morning fog hovering over a lake obscuring my vision.

The swallows twist and turn in the air with more grace than a prima ballerina in a Bolshoi Ballet. Their elegant flight poetic, poetry, the highest language, on the wing. They fly in and out of the windows seemingly gaining speed with every flap of their delightful wings. They fly under and over the casket while the priest speaks the eulogy.

I prefer the bird eulogy. I cannot understand the priest. I can understand the birds. They are honoring the deceased with an aerial ballet. They fly until their deep blue feathers are pushed from their bodies falling quill first into the ground like a thousand arrows shot into the sky descending in a veil. The blue feathers are replaced by virginal white feathers. Blue tuxedo swapped for a pearlescent tuxedo. What a tribute!

I want nature to be my eulogist, too. Yes, I do mull over the format of my wake and funeral. I’m creating a playlist of favorite songs for the occasion. It will be my last party and I want it done my way. Actually, I prefer my grandson to speak my eulogy since he is the only living being still viewing me from behind rose-tinted glasses through which I appear infallible or pretty close to infallible. He won’t have to lie to the congregants and say what a great guy I was. When he says it, he will believe it. It will be his truth even if it’s contrary to everyone else’s truth.

He would lead the burial procession, my final walk to my holiest of holies, the remote Red Rock Utah desert. I would love to rest atop Delicate Arch but I’m afraid the National Park Service would object, vehemently. Bones kicked by vultures and falling from the sky might cause injury followed by the inevitable lawsuit.

The procession would include a gaggle of geckos including at least one tukó since it’s voice sounds both cheerful and a lament. Its song will touch the hearts bidding me good riddance and those who weep in sadness.

I would like a chorus of birds in the background, the same cacophony the rises Sun in the morning, a chime of Canyon Wrens sitting first chair trilling the most beautiful birdsong ever to delight my ears. Their descending trills a metaphor for the winding down of my life. Somewhere in the procession, a single mythical rattlesnake to guard my corpse against rodents until one of the last California Condors rips open my chest and sticks that nasty pink head between my ribs and eats my heart. And we rise to the heavens on spectacular black/white, yin/yang wings as wide as the sky itself.

Since Delicate Arch won’t be available, my corpse it to be strategically placed beneath a gnarled juniper. A touch of shade to guard against sunburn. Face me West so my milky eyes can enjoy every sunset until they are plucked out by Raven and gifted to a blind coyote so it can see the world in vivid color and rejoice, as I did, with sunrises and sunsets. I can envisage it stopping mid-hunt, mid-chew on a kangaroo rat and watching, mouth agape as the apricot rays fade to tangerine. Maybe the not quite dead rat will escape while Coyote is mesmerized.

The priest descends down from the pulpit. Shakes the aspergillum at the casket anointing with holy water. The now white swallows start flying in tight counterclockwise formation layer upon layer from floor to ceiling creating a whirlwind, a translucent, blood red whirlwind. I feel myself leave my body and float into the air. The hulk remains seated. I see my shadow. Dainty long wings. A swallow. I am a swallow and I can fly. I am lithe. I am agile. I am Bird.

I join the flock flying round and round at dizzying speeds maintaining a fine balance between centripetal sucking us into the middle force and centrifugal thrusting toward the wall force. The blood red contrails continue to slide into the whirlwind forming a funnel cloud. The tip dancing on top of the casket, tap dancing on the glass until a hole is bored right through. The glass shatters it into a thousand knife edged splinters slicing the air into ribbons. They, too, join the funnel and shoot up into the ceiling digging and twisting, carving a hole in the dark wood.

The soul, white as daylight, cleansed of sin, purged of impurity pulls away from the body into the calm at the center of the vortex where it hovers with face turned upward, arms reaching heavenward. We all, birds, soul, red whispering smoke slowly begin to ascend. Once through the bored hole in the roof, our speed increases both circular and upward. The more rapidly we fly the quicker we ascend, ascend through the damp clouds, through the cerulean sky, into space and still we ascend. We are headed toward a dot radiating white light, whiter than starlight. Is it a distant sun? My head tingles.

When I was in High School, I saw Supertramp live in 1979. It was my first concert. I was dressed in my coolest Rock and Roll denim vest, elephant flare bluejeans with side stitching, over a pair of Midwestern style cowboy boots. They were tawny with a squarish toe. None of that roach killer pointy toe shit the cow fuckers wear in Texas. I was probably wearing a $5 bootleg concert shirt purchased near the carpark. A friend drove freeing me to indulge in mind-opening substances. Our seats were 20th row almost dead center. We didn’t sit. Everyone stood on the folding metal chairs straining for the best sight line.

Late in the concert, the band jammed an extended version of the song Rudy including a synchronized video running on a big screen behind the band. The lyrics talk about Rudy riding a train to nowhere. The sound of a train chugging along. Subtle at first. The tempo of the song increased so did the locomotive until it was flying down the tracks at high speed. The screen image changed to black with a pinhole of white dead center. We were in a long, pitch dark tunnel except for the tiny dot on the horizon. The locomotive chug, chug, chugged. The song tempo increased. The dot grew bigger. Faster, faster until we exited the tunnel and were blasted by a full white screen. And I experienced the biggest head rush known to man with a force that knocked me off my feet and onto my ass in the seat of the chair.

This is how the ascension to the white light high in the sky felt. A slowly growing headrush. Our speed increases. The light comes closer, grows bigger, increases intensity. My eyes water against the speed we were moving and the friggin’ brightness of the immaculate light. I close my eyes tight to prevent my pupils from melting.

A voice at once feminine and masculine, gentle and kind spoke, “Welcome, my faithful servant.”

I feel a warmth from the pit of my stomach radiate outward, engulf me like I am swaddled in a blanket just out of the dryer and still hot. I force my eyes open. The light is still bright but I can make out a silhouetted figure between the machine gun eyelid blinks. Arms reach out from behind the light veil. My name is called. “David…David…” I am about to come face to face with God. “David…David…” I reach my wings toward the figure and feel a sharp pain in my side. “David…David…” distinctly feminine now.

“I am coming, Lord!” Again the sharp pain. I must be flying too fast or the thin air is making it hard to breathe.”

“David…” feminine and familiar?

“David, it’s picture time.”

“Pictures?” I open my eyes. I am still seated in the pew next to my wife. Her elbow caused the pain in my side. I can move again.

“Yes. I need you to take pictures of us around the casket. You will be in some, too.” There is a Philipino tradition of taking pictures of the family members standing around the casket. It dawned on me, during the days of the wake, people were taking selfies of themselves and the deceased in the casket. It felt almost morbid to my Western sense of decorum. But, it was a different culture and, as Pope Francis said, who am I to judge.

The remainder of the ritual was to walk behind the hearse to the above ground, vault cemetery. Most, including me, rode in cars to avoid the growing heat. At the cemetery, the casket was inserted into the concrete vault. This one was on the 2nd tier of three tiers. Many prayers were said. Rosaries swayed with the people’s emotion. I held an umbrella over my wife and myself so we wouldn’t collapse in the feverish weather. More prayers recited, ritualistic incantations spoken without thought as to their meaning.

The vault was sealed with cement while we watched then we walked back to the cars. Except for Tío Pat who hung around until the cement had dried and a name with date scraped prominently in the rough surface. A formal seal. Every tomb had the combination. I guess there are problems with people stealing from the graves and he wanted to make sure there was no funny business before the cement set solid. We returned to Auntie’s for another meal. While eating, I kept a wary eye out for the baby eating spider.

The next two days we spent at a mini resort in Tacloban where I did pretty much nothing except chill in the shade and write and drink and eat not Philippino food. Then it was an overnighter in Manila followed by a planned two and a half days at Busuanga Island Paradise in Coron, assuming the planes jumped on time.

Busuanga Island Paradise Resort

It was while checking in at Busuanga Island Paradise resort that I finally set eyes on a Tukó. Irene was completing the paperwork when a loud Tu-Koooooo sounded. Jenny, the manager, saw me searching the ceiling. She was tall for a Filipina, wore a baseball hat with the pony pulled through the back. Her face hinted at underlying features not quite Asian. I would learn later her father was an American. An Assistant Manager name tag was pinned to a white Busuanga polo. She wore knee-high water boots. It had rained every day for the past 21 days and was raining now. “Do you want to see the Tukó?”

“Yes,” I blurted excitement peaking on the inside.

She pulled a large picture frame part way from the wall. I peeked behind. Too much shadow. Easily remedied by the flashlight app from my iPhone. The bright white light helped me to see but it was still difficult to get a clear view even with my head pressed against the wall. Only one eye could see the lizard hiding high. My blue eye stared into vertical slit yellow eyes, very like Rattlesnakes. Cousins? It looked to be about 8 inches in total length including the deformed tail. Had it escaped the jaws of a predator?

“He’s a little one,” Jenny said. “There are lots of tukós here. Yesterday, I saw one twice the size at the pavilion.” Lot’s of tukós? Tukó promised land? Would I finally meet the spirit Tukó? There were only a few days left on our trip. Was I getting close?

The second evening, I am sitting in the outdoor pavilion in cross section with both fans enjoying the sounds of the jungle evening, switching between writing of my travels and reading poetry by Filipino author Nick Carbó. Half the books I read are translations by authors from the other countries. When visiting or planning to visit a country, I read at least one book from a local author with the aim to absorb a few cultural nuances. Obviously, the books have to be translated into English which limits the selection. And the profit motive further reduces the available topics to those appealing to English readers. Imperfect. But better than self-imposed isolation.

Anyway, I am switching between reading and recording our Philippine adventures in my travel notebook. Unlined, of course. Lined paper constricts writing to linear thinking. I like to think in other word flowing possibilities. A lovely tree frog hopping on the ground catches my attention. It is the color of brown, chlorophyll deprived leaves, dead leaves fallen from mother tree after their season turned. The legs are chicken thin, comical. Black eyes bulged from the head. I was tempted to catch it for closer scrutiny. But my words were flowing and I prefer to not interrupt flow.

I turn back to the table to grab my water bottle and am greeted by a very large tukó. It had to be at least 12 inches from toe to the tip of a very fat tail. Startled, I pulled my hand back. It didn’t move. There is no sign of fear in its eyes or body language. It stared. I stared back. There’s a glint in Tukó’s eye. There is very little ambient light so the glint must be emanating from an internal spark. I look deeper into the eyes through the vertical slit, beyond the gold flecks, and see the formation of the universe outside of time. The gold flecks are released by the explosion creating Earth. There were Canyons. Slot Canyon. A black Sphere.

A pink, almost human pink tongue, licks one eye then the other. Most geckos don’t have eyelids and are not able to blink. Like snakes, their eyeballs are covered with spectacles—transparent scales that protect them. Without moisture, gecko eyes can become dry like stone baked in a noonday sun. Swipes of the tongue keep them moist and clean, windshield wipers replacing instead of removing moisture. I sense a thought in my head. The thought feels like, “Dyu got sum ting para moi?” This could just be my mind playing tricks on itself. Then again, there is the distinct possibility this is the Spirit Tukó.

I reached into my shirt and pulled out the medicine bag. It was damp. Shit! We were snorkeling all day. The medicine bag was beneath my rash guard. I forgot to take it off. I open it up and pulled out the creamy flower. There is no movement inside the petals. Most likely worm is dead. Desert creatures and salt water are incompatible. Maybe, Tukó will still accept the offering.

I unfold the flower and lay it on the table exposing the worm. Tukó’s head bounces up and down in excitement. It licks both eyes double four time. It looks at me and back at the flower. Then it looks back and forth between the soy sauce bottle and the worm. I could have sworn Tukó did the Filipino lip point at the soy sauce bottle then again at the motionless worm.

Soy sauce is the number one condiment in this country, a land devoid of spicy foods. I have heard tell of a region enjoying fiery peppers but we have not set foot on that island. I planned to pack chili powder to add some pizazz but, in my haste, completely forgot. I was forced to suffer under the other two primary spices, salt and pepper. I grab the bottle and place a drop in the worm.

“Mu-Orrrrrr. Mu-Orrrrrrr.” Tukó bounces it’s head up and down. I sprinkle a few more drops on the worm. “Mu-Orrrrrr! Mu-Orrrrrrr! Mu-Orrrrrr! Mu-Orrrrrrr!” Tukó happy dances with every additional sprinkle.

“Okay”, I douse the worm until it is floating in a brown pool of the salty liquid.

Tukó, deftly and with lightning reflexes, grabs the worm. Chews once, twice then swallows. “Yu-Ummmmmm.” Wipes its mouth on the creamy flower leaving a brown stain looking like shit on toilet paper. “Yu-Um…” The second Yum is cut short. A look of disappointment clouds Tukó’s face followed by angry utterances. “De-Edddddd. No-Stooooryyy. No-Stooooryyy. De-Edddddd Fu-Quuuuuu! Bu-byyyyyy!” Tukó turns and waddled off. The body undulating like Snake but suspended on the four legs. It would have been comical were I not stunned and devasted it was leaving without informing me of my purpose. I feel tears well in my soul.

“Wait! I’m sorry. Worm’s death was an accident. I checked yesterday and it was still alive. It was an accident.” I brought it 8000 miles. Snuck it through customs carefully avoiding the sniffer dogs. “Don’t leave. I need to know. Rattlesnake told me you knew my purpose… don’t… don’t go.”

Tukó takes no heed. There is no indication it heard my words. If anything it speeds up. It waddles to the wall, climbs vertical with as much ease as I walk on flat, paved sidewalks, and disappears into the rafters.

Failure! All that effort getting Worm to the Philippines. Finally, meeting up with Tukó. What now? What now? I was on the edge of learning my purpose twice. One ended with a dream sequence conversation with Spirit Rattlesnake. This, the seconded, ended because a worm died. I was so close. It was a nightmare. Nightmare? Dream? Dream! And then it dawns on me…

I run into the night jungle, fall on my hands and knees at the base of a tree, and feel around for some soft loam. Mosquitoes buzz me. I dig with bare hands sifting the dirt through my fingers searching. One crawly. Too big. Mosquitoes ravage me. Poke and prod. I feel fleshy wigglers. Sweat burns my eyes. Mosquitoes pierce me. I pull out my phone, flick the light on. There. There. Gold. Grubs. Five grubs. I pick up two and tuck them into my medicine bag, hold two more in my hand.

I run out of the jungle. Grab my books and continue running into our room. I hadn’t run with such urgency in years. I grab the door with the muddy hand. The handle slips. I brush the mud off on my shorts, was able to turn the handle, and open the door. The room is still chilly. Amazingly chilly. So chilly, the cold-bloods would be sluggish.

I rush to the window. The mini gecko still clings to the diaphanous curtain. I grab the first grub between two fingers and held it out to the gecko. I move it slowly closer despite my rampaging heart and shaking hand. The gecko sniffs, licks with the pink moist tongue, then grabs the grub and gulps it down in one swallow. How I don’t know because the grub was almost half the length of the gecko. I show the second grub to the gecko and make sure it saw me stuff it into my ear.

“What on earth are you doing? Did you just put something in your ear?” Her toothbrush is still in her mouth.

I had forgotten my wife was in the room. I wave her down and shush her. “I’ll explain later.” I lean in close to the mini lizard. Hoping. Hoping. I feel the grub wiggling in my ear and have to fight the urge to pull it out. My hoping was rewarded by hopping. The gecko leaped from the curtain onto my ear then crawled into the ear canal. Where it, thankfully, gobbles up the grub.

“Yu-Ummmmmm.” I heard it say. “Thank-Youuuuu. I was so hungrrrrryyyy. Tired. Sleep now. Talk on the ‘morrow.” I could feel it circling like a dog then curling up and settling down in the warmth of my inner ear. It is pressed against my eardrum. At first, all sound was muffled. In a few moments, clarity returns. No. Clarity is enhanced. I can feel-hear its rhythmic breathing.

I am now equipped with a living translator, a Babel Gecko. Mission to speak with Spirit Tukó step one accomplished. Tomorrow I will seek the Spirit Being and attempt to convince he/she/it/they to continue our conversation. Until then, I have some mansplaining to do or I might be sleeping on the floor.

There’s Got To Be A Morning After

I wake the next morning from a dreamless sleep, a sleep restful from eyes closed to eyes fluttering open. Not once did I stir awake the usual 2, 3, 4 times every night. I must not have snored for my wife did not nudge me awake during the night and tell me to go back to sleep. Or, I was so exhausted I was oblivious.

Is this attributable to the Babel Gecko silencing my voices? Or a long day island hopping to white sand beaches, swimming in warm crystalline waters, and snorkeling near reefs teeming with fish?

I slept for seven blissful hours and awoke percolating energy. I can feel Babel Gecko as a slight pressure in my ear canal. But, there is no movement. A small gecko barks by the mirror. It is amazing the volume coming from such small creatures. Just gecko speak. No translation. Babel Gecko must still be sleeping. I want to rush out to the pavilion and seek the spirit Gecko, Gecko with a big G just like the big G Gods. What use, though, if my Rosetta Stone is not awake?

I push the area around my ear, front, below and behind, hoping the pressure will nudge it awake. No joy. I contemplate sticking my pinky in my ear, the nail length should reach. It also might pierce Babel Gecko. Patience. I tell my self. Patience? Patience when every fiber of my body is stretched taut enough that any touch would vibrate in the audio range, a human harp singing?

The last time I felt this high strung was the first time I engaged with my wife in the biblical sense. That night I had a clear path to satiating crescendo and hours of cuddling relaxation. Now? No path, no physical path. Perhaps a run? No. My knees are ravaged and the humidity would wrap me like a warm, wet towel keeping me from losing heat and ripe for an internal meltdown. One heart attack is enough.

Rub one out? No, that would leave me with sticky fingers, a wet bed, and wake my wife from her deep slumber. Not a good choice. She prefers, strongly, to not be woken early in the morning. We still had a few hours before she needed to wake for our 2nd day hopping the pristine islands. I could write a few pages in my travel journal but the agitation would render my already poor scribbling unreadable even to me.

I ease out of bed, grab my Kindle, make a cup of Earl Grey and walk to the pavilion. There is still a few poems by Philipino poet Nick Carbó to finish in his book, El Grupo McDonalds, before wrestling with Octavio Paz. Nick’s imagery is straightforward, relatively easy to follow. Octavio lives in the surreal. The words are tangled, the images twisted yet still sing beauty to my warped soul, Romeo serenading Juliette, Napoleon invading wet Josephine, Eve giving sight to blind Adam. He requires deep concentration to extract meaning. Mostly, I play in the imagery because much of the meaning is beyond my comprehension. That should get my mind off the internal machinations driving me to agitation.

Considering I’m living a pseudo surrealistic life what with a talking Rattlesnake and now an animal voice translating Babel Gecko tucked in my ear, surreal is on par with my mindset. I expect my near future will be steeped in a warm tea of melting clocks and fish on tethers.

In the pavilion, I sit at the table designated ours by the hotel staff. It is roped off by a small sign bearing my wife’s name, an invisible, inviolate border. It is situated between two oscillating fans mounted high on the rafters at a ninety-degree angle ensuring a constant breeze from one side or the other. A breeze clearing mosquitoes and keeping me cool, sorta.

Fish Soup

Red Crabs and Rice!

When we first arrived and lunched at the pavilion, we were not enamored with our assigned table. We staged a coup and conquered another’s territory. We illegally immigrated to someone else’s table and squatted. And, you know what, we were comfy. The other couple was comfy. The world did not end.

I turn the fans on, open my Kindle. The backlight is too bright. I scale it down to a soft glow until the backlit display casts a gentle light, just right for reading.

I chose to sit in the pavilion hoping the return of Tukó, hoping the Spirit Being would forgive the accidental death of the yucca worm and speak the wisdom I needed to hear. I wait and wait. No reappearance nor would it show those golden eyes to me for the duration of our trip.

I read for a couple of hours, read until the thick, misty air glows dim gray-white, no apricot/tangerine sunrise this far into the jungle. I read until I hear the door click open and see my wife floating across the grounds her eye waving to and fro scanning for snakes with every step. We saw a nice grass snake our first day here. It crossed our path and slithered off into the taller grasses. She was not amused. Just out of bed, she is still as beautiful as the day I first laid eyes upon her in a Chicago restaurant and felt a tingling in my loins.

We eat the buffet breakfast, lots of scrambled eggs overcooked for me, peeled fruits, toast. She has a few cups of coffee, me another tea. A satisfying meal before heading out to the wet market to buy some freshly caught fish and the huge prawns our boatmen would cook a few hours later, food they would serve us while we rejoiced on the pearly beaches and swam beneath a cerulean sky in impossibly turquoise waters. Would Babel Gecko tag along for the adventure or take leave before we plunged into the depths?

Swimming with the Fishes

Our hotel is in the jungle, a twenty-minute van ride to the jumping off point for the water adventures. As much as I try to prod, and will Babel Gecko into a woke state, there is no movement in my ear canal.

At the wet market, the flies buzz, a few near dead fish gasp a spasm through their scaly bodies as they slowly drown in the thick air. It is the perfect time to expose my psyche to the pained fish. What were their final thoughts? No translation was forthcoming.

I know Babel Gecko is still there. I can feel the coolness of its tiny miniscule, cold-blooded body against my eardrum. Yet, I can neither hear nor feel breathing. Is it dead? Alive? Sleeping?

We will be snorkeling in the next hour and swimming most of the day. Dare I participate? It might drown and sever any possibility of guiding me. But, what’s to sever if non-reactive Babel Gecko is possibly dead? I send thoughts and prayers to it the entire boat ride.

The boats are traditional, double outrigger and sloooowww. One of our guides stands on the prow watching for submerged rocks.

I catch the boat crew sneaking looks at me speaking out loud to no one in particular. I’m sure it looks like I am spouting incantations the way a priest mumbles through a mass ritually performed a thousand times without variation. The thoughts and prayers did no good. Didn’t think they would. Thoughts and prayers are an illusory phrase spoke to assuage the guilt of people who won’t offer any real help but want others to view them as caring and helpful. More than anything, it is a shout to “Look at wonderful me!”

Our first stop, Siete Pescados, Seven fishes, an area rich in corals, a haven for mobile and stationary sea life.

I am not a fan of cold water except to drink and then prefer water that is as much solid as liquid. This intense dislike keeps me out of pools, lakes, and oceans. I learned yesterday this was not the case with the beach water. Today, we are further out. I tentatively descend the ladder into the ocean bay. The shock I experience when plunging in? The temperature is temperate. Not too cold, not cold at all. Perfect for a bubble bath after a long, long bike ride when on fire muscles need soothing.

The saltiness means buoyancy means no life jacket required…for me. I much prefer the mobility of swimming unencumbered. Irene, on the other hand, is less confident especially nervous when the bottom is more than twelve feet. She always wears a life jacket and uses me as a second flotation device. At times, it feels I am swimming for two. Mostly, I don’t mind the added work. It’s far better than two years ago when I had to snorkel alone in Belize because she was terrified of any water over her head. She has learned to swim with her next goal of learning to scuba dive. I am looking forward to that day. I love Scuba. I wonder, though, how she will take to more water above her than below.

Most of the time we snorkel, I am fumbling with my GoPro camera. I forgot the buoyant stick so must concentrate not to drop it. The floor is thick with coral. The GoPro would sink like a rock and disappear. I don’t like sticking my hands in places I cannot see when in the ocean. Too many critters with spikes and sharp teeth.

Her confidence grows. Short forays on her own become more common. I make sure to keep an eye out so I, in my fish searching excitement, don’t wander too far. Why excited? So many colorful fish. Some only previously seen on television and in professional aquariums.

There is stick, fan, and brain corals, all beautiful, each attracting their own fish species. The fish forage around the coral branches or, like the parrot fish, nibbling algae formed on the coral. Most exciting for me, aside from my wife discovering and showing me a striped sea snake later in the day, is the bulbous puffer fish with the tiny fins looking more like an overstuffed condom than a denizen of the deep. By color, it is nondescript.

It swims like a dirigible. Slowish. Not very linear. The bulky head resembling more a battering ram than a sleek, slicing missile. I follow hoping it will puff up balloonish. No luck. No predator to strike fear in its heart. Nor does this hairy hominid seem threat enough to trigger the instinct for self-preservation.

“Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.” I spot a Dory fish or a fish similar in shape and color to Dory. Possibly a blue tang. Not being a tropical fish expert, I can’t say for sure. “Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.” I realize I am hearing a fish speaking. “Just keep swimming.” Babel Gecko is obviously awake and translating.

“Yes, David, I am.”

“You am? You are? You are what”

“Just am. I am.”

The Old and New Testament God’s used the phrase, “I Am”, to hint at their existence pre-time. It is interpreted by Christian scholars as a declaration of divinity. Here I am, a snorkeling human immersed in a world of water breathers, salt-water breathers enjoying the otherworldly experience. My focus is on simple enjoyment. It seemed Babel Gecko is gearing up for philosophical sparring.

I simply want to be deep under not to think deep while under. I enjoy floating, partially submerged with a mask and a mouthpiece stuffed into my speaking hole with a tube extending into the air. Perhaps I can just ignore the distraction. physically, speech is impossible. I can just keep swimming pretending to be oblivious.

“Wait for it?”

“Wait for…shit.” We already had a brief conversation. Babel Gecko is plugged into my head. Verbal words are unnecessary.

“There you go man, keep as cool as you can. Face piles and piles…”

“… of trials with smiles. It riles them to believe that you perceive the web they weave and keep on thinking free.” The little bugger is quoting song lyrics now. “Why the Moody Blues?”

“Do you remember the opening lyrics to that song?”

“Of course I do. ‘I think, I think I am, therefore I am, I think.'”

“Yes, my bright little star. You think therefore You are. Or, You am as I are.”

I looked back to find my wife. She is a few meters away and seems to be enjoying herself. There is no fear in her body language.

“Because we both are, David, I am able to connect with you at the thought level. Words are so primitive, a waste of energy, and enslaved to a specific language. Thoughts are universal, exist outside the limits of language. Only the simplest thoughts can be dumbed down to words. Except for the poets. Poets extended words beyond mere scratches on a page. They are able to create a bouquet of images, layers of meaning, nuanced implications with a sparsity of words, imagery dense forests with desert symbolism.”

“I enjoy poetry, too. But, I must admit, much of what I read is beyond my comprehension.” I think back to Octavio and the challenge of finding coherence in his imagery.

“That’s because of your propensity to interpret poetry with logic. One can’t think poetry. It must be felt. Poetry is an experience. Allow it to wash over you like the apricot rays of sunrise. Feel poetry don’t think poetry.”

I’m an engineer. Logic is everything. Am I an Engineer because I was born thinking logical or do I depend upon logic for because I am educated in Engineering? “How does one suspend logic?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been human, never been constrained by words or logic. We in the non-human space are fully aware logic is illogical.”

“How, then, do you survive?”

“How do we survive? It’s a wonder any of you humans survive. Logic is used to manipulate thinking thus beguile humans. Human logic says my side needs enough ‘defensive’ nuclear weaponry to blow up the world 10 times because the other side can do it three times. If both sides can destroy Earth one time then there is enough to destroy earth twice. Why is more needed? To line the silk undershorts of the greedy powerful who already possess more money than they can use in twenty lifetimes. It’s all about ego stroking.”

“I always, always knew nuclear escalation was warped thinking, twisted logic.”

“We animals survive by instinct. Emotion. Connection to the Collective Consciousness allows us to experience the energy of all life forms, including humans. The closest word in your language is empathy but our universal web is an amplifier making it broader and deeper.”

“For example?”

“Remember the balloon fish you were following?”

“Balloon fish?” In my mind, I saw Puffer fluttering near the coral. “Do you mean Pufferfish?

“Yes. Pufferfish. You were trying to spook it so it would inflate its body.”

“Um…ya.”

“I was still in a state of semi-consciousness yet felt it screaming in distress.”

“Distress?”

“Of course, distress. How would you feel with a hairy alien one hundred times your size following you around?”

“Ok. I get your point.”

“I have not made my point. For Puffer to puff requires significant energy use. Energy must be replenished by food. A short while ago it expanded to ward off a hungry eel. Eel induced stress then you added to the stress nudging our friend toward a nervous breakdown. I smelled the stress in the water, felt the fear-tension radiating through Universal Consciousness. All beings near Puffer experienced the stress, all except you and the other humans preferring to think in thought. Sharks are drawn to the stress lines and the implication of weakened, easy prey. To protect us all, including you, I distracted you with this conversation. Puffer was free to bumblebee swim away on those tiny fins dissipating stress. We are all connected. It is just you fool humans have ignored it for so long it seems to be erased from your DNA. Or your logical thinking has blinded you from our interconnectedness. You are welcome, by the way.”

“Welcome?”

“Yes, the shortest path between the sharks and the stress nucleus radiator was through your wife.”

“Huh? Oh. Oh! Thank You!”

“De nada, mon ami.”

“You just mixed Spanish and French. Are you multilingual?”

“No. Thought communicators don’t need to speak in any specific language. Have you not been paying attention? You interpreted my thoughts with words in your comfort zone.”

“The bounce between human languages, Daveed, shows a sensitivity to Universal Consciousness. Perhaps Rattlesnake was correct and there is hope, a plan for your life. Perhaps you are not just aimlessly wandering between birth and death.”

For part of our conversation, I was feeling stupid.”Of course, I’m not wandering aimlessly.” How quickly it changed to pissed when my worldview was challenged. “My life has a purpose. I have always sensed a greater calling, a heightened sense of the spiritual, a visceral connection with creation centered in the power emanating from the rocks around Moab. My struggle has always been understanding why I am sensitive to the spiritual and how I am supposed to serve the world. In other words, my purpose for being born. Rattlesnake gave me hope. He told me you held the answers.”

“I am not here to tell. I don’t have answers. My role is to give you a key with which you will open doors. I hint at possibilities. I point toward futures. I…I…I need a rest. Filtering through your mind gyrations trying to find coherence is exhausting. How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Maintain sanity.”

With those words hanging in the water. Babel Gecko stopped talking presumably to nap leaving me to ponder the soundness of my thinking and mental life.

Fun in The Sun

We, Irene and I, spend the remainder of the day basking in the glorious Philippines taking advantage of the beautiful weather, idyllic waters, and the serenity of the most beautiful white sand beaches in our world. The water and beaches in greater Coron. We choose to limit our movement on this second-day of island hopping. Day one we hit five different sites. Today, only two. There is a lot to be said for deep experience over wide. Both have their place. Today we needed deep tissue massage.

We spend the majority of our time at Malcapuya Island. The boat parked in a beautiful bay. We take a short walk to the shaded huts looking over a stunning bay. What’s the difference between beautiful and stunning? The angle of the sun glinting off the gentle waves singing when they brush over the sand. The texture of cool sand beneath bare feet too long encumbered by shoes, and the way the ivory whiteness kisses the incoming waves. The turquoise water against a backdrop of an impossibly blue sky sliced with wispy clouds high above cottony cumulus. Seeing my bronzed wife in a sexy one-piece emerging from the ocean looking more mermaid than a human. And many other subtleties felt deep in the soul.

We eat a leisurely lunch. A dirty white dog visits coaxed in by Irene. It looks halfway between fox and dog with the pointed ears and long, narrow snout, and bushy tail. She has elongated, swollen teats, a nursing mother. Where were her pups? I feel the word thirsty. Is Babel Gecko sleeping or has our connection become so intertwined translation supersedes Babel Gecko sleep? Irene gives the fox-dog water from our supply. “You’re giving our water to the dog? What if we run short? It’s very hot.”

“She’s thirsty.” Squatting next to the dog pouring water into her cupped hand which the dog eagerly laps. “She has puppies and needs the water more than we do.”

“How did you know she was thirsty?” It was a dumb question I should not have bothered to ask. She has a connection with dogs that shames my connection with humans. Dog empathy. Animal empathy.

“I could feel it.”

The dog consumes the better part of a liter and chowed down on the leftover fish heads and skeleton ensuring not a morsel goes to waste. Energy ensuring milk will flow and puppies have a chance to become dogs.

There is a big clam a ways out. Locals are giving rides where one has to hang onto the outriggers in the water while they putt-putt to the location. My preference is to swim and see it. We opt for neither. There is enough to explore nearer shore and we only have enough pisos remaining to tip our boatmen.

Our final stop before the hour-long, slow boat back to Coron is a sandbar. We can see the connected island across the strait. Deep massage or wider massage? I am so relaxed, either suits me. We cross to the sandbar. Only, it isn’t just a sandbar. It was but it isn’t now. Best of all, we are the only ones visiting. Peace and solitude.

It is later afternoon, tide on the rise. What was an exposed sandbar in the morning is now a submerged beach bar. A bar without drinks. A Mai Tai would be perfect. We walk on the submerged beach bar. The water is barely above our knees. In the center, an isolated rock outcropping attracts small fish the way light attracts moths only these thrive on algae instead of being cooked when touching the light.

Around the back of the island, rocks and coral abound as do fish. Not nearly the variety we enjoyed at Siete Pescado but equal in quantity. I see another parrot fish notable for their almost fluorescent coloration. The fish swim in mixed color, mixed species clusters, choosing to intermingle without the small-minded prejudice plaguing humanity. Inter-species harmony. My guess is they are not burdened by religiosity and the division wrought by practitioners of the faiths. They come together based on the content of each others character.

The Last Conversation with Tukó

“You are partially correct, David.” Babel Gecko speaks.

“Partially correct about what?”

“The fish people, all peoples but humans, exist in a perpetual state of worship. This is different than humans who set apart a designated time to honor the creator, a begrudging hour a week. Even that pittance is enough to win the label ‘zealot’ or ‘pious’. Each being exists in harmony with their creator never trying to impose their way of life. Parrotfish does not demand Shark become a vegan. Unlike your ilk believing it is a godly faith to ball gag your truth into the souls of those believing differently. Deep-throating others inevitably leads to retribution and the puking of holy wars.”

“How are the other beings different when Shark eats Parrotfish? Isn’t that ball gagging belief too? I’m sure Parrotfish doesn’t believe being eaten allows it to pursue Parrotfish faith.” I had Babel Gecko this time. Logic turned against diatribe.

“No.” Subtle chuckle. “That is each being existing true to their unique design.”

“And just how is that different?”

“To begin with, humans put their own faces on the gods. The Catholic god is white. The Islamic god is swarthy. You all carve division out of harmony. It should be obvious that each human religion creates god in their own images. We don’t put a mask on Universal Consciousness, ultimate reality, whatever you want to call it. Every other being from Rock to Microbe to the ancient Tree people are in a continuous state of worship every moment of their existence. There is no division between life and worship. They wake in worship. Sleep in worship. Dream in worship. Eat and procreate as an act of worship. An elephant never wishes to be a bird or even another elephant. Each exists in their moment, in the present maximizing their uniqueness.”

“Hmm…this sounds kinda Buddhist?”

“Yes. The Buddha was approaching Universal Consciousness but it was still an oblique angle mostly missing the crux. Each being exists as itself. Accepts the uniqueness of all others. None seek to be another. They exist within their purpose. Outside of man, there is never any animal, despite the anthropomorphized stories in your fairy tale books, that seeks to be something outside themselves, their purpose.

“Their purpose? They have a purpose?”

“Yes, purpose. The essence you are so desperate to discover. Do you know, you embodied your purpose at birth? But, like most humans, you lost it seeking joy and contentment outside yourself. Your journey is not one of discovery. It’s about reconnecting with your inner self, unweaving your own craziness.”

“I guess that makes sense.” It actually is more logical than I am willing to admit to a lizard. Inwardly, I have always felt restless, disconnected. It makes sense that I am on a quest to find a lost part of myself. But I don’t relay this to the Babel Gecko. I don’t want to endure another soliloquy on the illogic of human logic.

“Young David, you are on a journey.”

“I’m not young.” I’m feeling smug and annoyed.

“Before you were, I was. I’m older than Methuselah, was a witness to creation itself.”

I felt my head tilt like an inquisitive dog.

“I sense it is dawning on you. Yes, I am the Spirit Gecko, the Tukó foretold by Rattlesnake.”

“But…but…you are so tiny? How? How? What about the worm eater?”

“You foolish humans always thinking bigger is better. Sometimes, I wonder why we bother to protect your race. The worm eater was a pretender. The woman you encountered when arriving at Tacloban, as you correctly surmised, was a decoy. Worm eater and the woman are small ‘s’ spirit geckos. Did you not see the woman lick her eyes?”

“Hmmm. Protect our race? The human race?”

“Yes, but that is a topic for another time. I have been around since the beginning…”

“Beginning of what??”

“…the beginning of the beginning. By comparison you, young David, have existed for less than one one-hundred-thousandth the tick of a clock.”

“By that reckoning, I have less than the one-thousand-thousandth before I die. I guess I am both old and young relative to you.” I couldn’t help but be a smartass.

“What makes you think life ends with death? Have you considered death is the beginning and birth an end?”

“Riddles! You are as frustrating as Rattlesnake was before he wooshed back into his rock leaving a scar chiseled into its surface. Let’s rewind. You said I am on a journey?!?!” half question, half declaration.

“Yes. A long journey and I am, as was Rattlesnake, but a link in a disjointed chain wrapped through history connecting discontiguous time passages. I can see all the links back to before the beginning of your great, great grandparents and a few into your future. You, David, are on a hero’s journey. I am one of many advisors.”

“Many advisors? How man… Hold on. A hero’s journey?” Joseph Campbell wrote extensively about the mythology of the hero’s journey underpinning many world faiths. Is Babel Gecko telling me I’m to be the founder of a new faith? A prophet? A god? What shall I call my faith system? But there are issues. “A hero’s journey needs a hero and a dragon to slay.”

“Your quest is to rediscover the purpose you lost after toddlerhood. In that context, you are both hero and dragon. To slay the dragon is to slay yourself. Game over?”

“Wait. You said death is the beginning.”

“Correction, A beginning.”

“A beginning. If I slay myself I would be both dead and at a new beginning simultaneously. A Shroedinger’s cat paradox and I’m the pussy in the box. I would be dead to this life and alive to a new life. Like The Christ, resurrected into God.”

“Correction, a god. Are you able to retain any information? Why do I bother? There are many, many gods and Gods.”

“Again, you sound like Rattlesnake. Are you the same Sprint only shapeshifted?”

“What is Snake but Lizard without legs? By and by, never trust the words slipping off the fork tongues. They split truth. Rattlesnake is the definition of dichotomy. I think I already explained this.”

“Let’s back up,” I said. “You danced around my question. If I slay the dragon thus myself and death is a new beginning, am I to die and resurrect a God?”

“I said to consider the possibility. Compare it with water and ice. When water is warmed to 32 degrees it begins to melt. Cool water to 32 degrees and freezing starts. As one dies, the other is birthed. Death equals life. Life equals death. At 32 degrees is the coexistence of life and death, a perfect balance of living stabilizing dying, death stabilizing life.”

“Are you saying, if I slay my dragon, I will birth myself? But that means I have always been the dragon and the hero never was. Or am I in an equilibrium environment so I am both dragon and hero at this moment? Damn, this is confusing.”

“You are confused because you persist with thinking in thoughts. There is understanding that cannot be explained by primitive human thought. This is one of them.”

“Primitive thought? Human thought is the essence of intelligence. It is by thinking and thought that we ascended….”

“Your kind are so enthralled with thought you have lost the balance of empathic feeling. Need I remind you, it is thinking and thought that devised the atomic bomb. It is thinking and thought that kills for pleasure beyond the need for food. It is being handcuffed by thinking in thought that warps human philosophy until destroying the very habitat sustaining you is rationalized as logical. Because you refuse to experience life outside of thought, you are bringing destruction to many of the plant people and animal people not to mention the pending obliteration of the human people. How the Fu-Quuuuuu does that pass for intelligence?”

No snappy comebacks come to mind. No red herrings to derail Tukó allowing me a face-saving coup de gras and exit stage left. What to do? Simple. Do nothing, no thing. Remain silent. Terminate thinking. Halt thought. Float away on the thin ice of a new day. I unfocus my eyes and hover face down, submerged ears connected to the ebb and flow murmuring of Ocean’s soul brushing against my eardrums, a one-inch diameter breathing tube connecting me to sweet air. Yin-yang. Fish and human. Ommmm. Ommmm.

“David.”

“Huh? What?”

I am not sure how long I dwelt outside of thought in the amniotic paradise. Was it seconds? Minutes? Longer? Nine months? Whatever the duration, I return to awareness feeling relaxed, freshly emerged from a chrysalis after a long, restful sleep. I would like to say transformed physically but I am still an aging redhead carrying too much weight around my midsection. The caterpillar stayed a caterpillar.

“David, can you sense me?

“I can hear you.”

“I haven’t been talking”

“You’re not talking? Then, I am tuned into your thought waves. I guess I am sensing you.”

“Before I go….”

“Go? Go where?”

“Away. I’m leaving.

“Nooo!”

“You should be used to separations by now. Did you not tell Rattlesnake everyone leaves you?

“Ya. Doesn’t mean I like being abandoned.”

“I have imparted to you what I had to impart.”

“Whatever…how can you leave when I’m still a mess.”

“A mess?”

“Yes. You asked how I maintain sanity. I am out of order and will not find my peace until harmony is attained. Harmony with what? Harmony with everything. Including myself. I’m thinking Nirvana on earth. Peace in my soul.”

“What you desire is not a one-time event. Order, itself is an illusion. Harmony, on the other hand, once found requires maintenance to sustain the beauty state.”

“How will I know when I enter the beauty state?”

“The natural world will accept you as one of them. You will be able to understand their essence without the need of an intermediary like me. You will be outside of mere thought and sense the universality of all life. You will be comfortable existing in both the thought and empathy.”

“What about my purpose? How will I know.”

“David, you are on a vision quest. Neither snake nor I can reveal your purpose because it is hidden from us as well. Purpose is not a single destination. It’s a series of destinations. Purpose evolves over time. Rattlesnake was able to point you toward me because I was a near future. Your next future is beyond my vision and my dreams. But my dreaming of future events is imaginary. There is no future as there is no past. It is always present. Always I am. Always you are. I can tell you this..be open. The next spirit may be very large or very small, tree or insect or any being between including rock. It may be nonambulatory requiring you to sit still for days. Keep your spirit open so you don’t miss the sign. There is no saying how many guides hold links in your chain.”

“Sure, I will remain open, leave my spirit raw flapping in the breeze.”

Gecko popped out of my ear. It floundered in the water’s great strength. The ocean was pushing me around and I was infinitely heavier than tiny Tukó. I tried to reach for it but the waves pushed and pulled us in different directions. I thought it might drown. Until it’s tiny tail grew into a fishtail. Scales flipped out of the lizard skin on the bottom half the body. The upper changed into a woman, the spitting image of the raggedy lady at the chicken stand. Still gecko green but definitely the woman. It grew as long as my leg. Shapeshifter. With a few strong flicks of its tail, it disappeared into the distance. But not before singing in a high, melodious voice, “Remember…Spirit Beings come in all shapes and sizes…some are not ambulatory…”

That was the last I saw or heard from Tukó. The boat trip back to Coron took us into a squall of dark clouds, eventually releasing a heavy rain. It rained through the evening and the next day causing a slight delay in our Palawan-Manila flight.

Aside from the reason taking us to the Philippines, it was a good trip. We had space away from tourism to experience untarnished native life and for Irene to reconnect with childhood memories and the people making them special. And we had a couple days of tourism visiting some of the most beautiful beaches and waters the world has to offer.

The next day, Chicago via Taiwan. Most of the trip I mulled over and over the conversations with Tukó. Sticking like a barbed hook in my craw was the phrase that not all Spirit Beings are ambulatory. In my opaqueness, I sensed a clue. The second leg, the long leg was on a Hello Kitty themed plane from the flight attendant aprons to the eating utensils topped with Kitty. I found it trite, childish. Irene thought it cute. I didn’t touch the Ambien.

The Fat Tailed Lizard in the Philippines (Seeking Tukó) Awakened by a Demon The demon screeched as if being tortured in the pits of hell where every last inch of its flesh was flayed and the writhing, skinless, oozing body was dipped in rock salt and set on a slow-burning flame.