#motion sensor bulb

[craftyspirememory]

Motion Sensor Bulb

A motion sensor bulb is the smart choice for anyone looking to combine convenience with energy saving. Designed to automatically detect movement, a motion sensor light turns on only when needed. 

[pankj123]

The ESYSENSE Motion Sensor Bulb is a smart and efficient lighting solution for any home. Featuring advanced radar bulb technology, this sensor bulb detects motion instantly, providing automatic illumination when movement is detected. It works through thin walls, glass, and doors, making it more reliable than traditional motion-activated lights. Ideal for staircases, hallways, garages, and outdoor spaces, it enhances security while conserving energy by turning off when no movement is present. Easy to install in any standard socket, the ESYSENSE Motion Sensor Bulb offers hands-free convenience and peace of mind for your home lighting needs.

[nemo-writes]

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I chapter three

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: a terrifyingly familiar presence breaches your last safe space, and now a simple and heartfelt gesture becomes a violation. in the aftermath, fear finally makes you reach out for help.

⤿ warning(s): stalking, panic attacks & unhealthy coping mechanisms.

⟡ story masterlist ; previous I next

✦ word count: 2.7k

The day begins the same way the last three have: 05:30, kettle on, one level tablespoon of Assam spooned into the infuser. While the water climbs toward a boil you unlock your phone, already braced for what waits. A fresh number—there is always a fresh number—has delivered its dawn bulletin:

Left at 05:01 yesterday.

Early bird. Porch light flickered twice—loose bulb?

Navy coat looks sharp against the fog, pretty girl. 

They never mention the hospital, never a word about ORs or co-worker names. The watcher keeps to the edges of your private life, and somehow that makes the trespass worse. You capture a screenshot, block the number, and delete the thread. The image joins dozens of others in the hidden laptop folder named Archive—date‑stamped, time‑stamped, waiting for the moment you finally believe the police will do more than shrug.

Four‑minutes steep exactly. Mug warmed. First swallow. Routine: a ladder you climb every morning. Eggs scrambled ninety seconds, plate rinsed, shower seven minutes. Before dressing, you check the tiny motion‑sensor camera you mounted inside the apartment entryway two nights ago; its LED blinks a steady red reassurance. The matching camera on the fire‑escape window does the same. No motion alerts overnight. Still, you test the deadbolt twice and angle the hall chair beneath the knob until you return.

The drive is identical to yesterday’s and the day before—same streets, same mirror checks at every light. No car follows twice, but you look anyway. At 06:50 you badge through the employee entrance. Stepping into hospital feels like sliding into armor: fluorescent lights, antiseptic bite, the hum of vents. The messages have never followed you here.

You adjust your usual gray scrubs and square your clipboard. Pre‑op checklist in your left hand, suture cart in your right, you call out “sponge count zero” with the same crisp authority as always. But small hesitations creep in: rereading the cefazolin vial, tapping the clock twice to verify time‑outs. 

Margot’s eyes track each pause. She eventually corners you by the blanket warmer.

“Nightmares?” she asks, voice low.

“Just the usual insomnia,” you answer, pinching your lower lip. A nervous habit. Your smile feels brittle, but it holds.

Fin notices too; his jokes grow louder, as though volume can fill the quiet shadow clinging to you. Jules slips extra Hershey Kisses into your scrub pocket. Even Dr. Garcia joins in by firing off sarcasm like covering fire whenever an intern looks as if they might ask why your phone stays face‑down on the desk, silent yet weighty.

Slowly but surely, the afternoon bleeds into evening. 

You finish vitals, sign the narcotics log, and at 19:04 bypass the stairwell that leads to the roof—no silhouettes against twilight tonight. Instead you head straight for the lot, head down, keys ready.

The cameras in your apartment greet you with their steady red eyes when you arrive. Door locked, sweep performed—closet, shower, under bed—all clear. Only then do you change into a soft purple T‑shirt and loose pants. You have long since stopped parading around in your underwear. 

The phone buzzes the moment the fabric falls over your head. New number:

Purple again. My favorite.

You freeze. Curtains closed, lights low—and still they see. Screenshot. Block. Delete. You drag the dining chair beneath the doorknob and place the kitchen scissors back on the nightstand, steel glinting like a talisman. Then, a mug of valerian tea, strong enough to taste like soil, goes down in three determined gulps.

Lying in bed, you count the protections: two cameras, one chair brace, scissors within reach, every screenshot archived. Routine is armor. Repetition is a prayer. You breathe in for four, out for eight, the same cadence you teach anxious PACU patients, and tell yourself that as long as the messages stay outside the hospital walls, the armor will hold.

Sleep comes in splinters, broken by phantom creaks and imagined footsteps. At 02:47 you wake up, heart sprinting, and check the camera feed: empty hallway, silent fire escape. Dawn is only a few hours away. Soon the kettle will hiss, the tea will steep for exactly four minutes, and another text will arrive—about a porch light or the time you start your car—but never about scalpels, never about sponge counts.

Despite the hour, you’re halfway through wiping down the already‑clean kitchen counter—busywork to quiet the apartment’s hush—when your phone vibrates. For once the screen doesn’t show an unknown number.

It’s Jack.

Haven’t seen you on the roof in a bit. Everything okay?

The text lands like a gentle hand on your chest. You swallow against the sudden tightness in your throat, thumb hovering. Finally you type back:

I’m alright—just busy. See you tomorrow?

Three dots pulse, then: Works for me. Sunrise tea?

He doesn’t mention anything about the hour or how you should be asleep and not messaging back. You’re grateful. 

Sunrise tea, you confirm, and set the phone facedown.

Pacing the kitchen, you notice how full the fridge is: a dozen nearly‑dated eggs, chicken thighs you’d planned to roast, wilting cilantro, limes, onions, and two unopened cans of black beans. You haven’t cooked a proper meal since the messages started; take‑out cartons and tea have been enough to survive. Now the sight of real food sparks something steadier than dread—a need to do, to give.

An apology, you decide, should be edible.

You wash your hands, set the chicken on the board, and fall into the rhythm your muscles remember: trim fat, score skin, rub with salt, cumin, smoked paprika. Onions sizzle in the cast‑iron, releasing a sweetness that chases the apartment’s stale anxiety. Beans simmer with serrano and garlic; rice toasts before absorbing broth. Cilantro stems thunk under the knife; lime zest perfumes the steam fogging the window. 

When everything’s done you portion a generous serving into a sturdy glass container, your favourite one: rice pilaf on one side, glossy black beans on the other, two pieces of golden‑skinned chicken nestled on top. Into a tiny jar goes some honey‑lime dressing. You label the lid in block letters—Jack—and slide the meal into one of your spare tote bags. 

The apartment smells of cumin and toasted garlic, of normal life. The cameras still blink red, the chair still braces the door, the scissors still gleam, but cooking has threaded warmth through every corner. You finish the last dish, the one’s that’s for you, dry your hands, and stand for a moment in the quiet kitchen, breathing in the proof that you can still create comfort instead of just barricades.

Tomorrow at dawn you’ll climb to the roof, hand Jack the container, and share five minutes of sky. Routine will tighten around you again, one careful knot at a time—but tonight you fall back asleep with the scent of lime and cilantro on your pillow, and relief, thin but real, settles in your chest like steam escaping a cooling pot.

. . .

You arrive at the hospital just past sunrise, thermos in one hand, tote slung over your shoulder, and—for once—a real, living sense of calm beneath your ribs. Not the fragile kind you usually glue together with caffeine and a tight jaw, but something gentler, something earned. You even caught a pocket of golden morning light in the parking lot, the kind that made the hospital look almost soft at the edges. 

Dr. Miller catches sight of you just as you pass the nurse’s station. He’s leaning against the counter, coffee in one hand, chatting with a pair of interns, but pauses when he sees you. His eyebrows lift, and he gives a slow, amused smile. “Well, you look dangerously close to content. Should I be worried?”

You huff a laugh, smoothing your coat as you badge in. “Don’t start rumors, Dr. Miller.”

He points at the canvas tote on your shoulder. “Big plans?”

You nod once. “End of shift.”

He doesn’t ask more, just grins, and you take that grin with you like a good omen. The rest of the day moves at a steady clip: vitals to log, meds to verify, a code yellow that resolves without anyone crying. You let yourself coast on the rhythm of it, not in that desperate, overcompensating way you usually do, but in a way that feels like a return to something—like an exhale. 

You slip into the lounge at 18:45, already imagining the click of the container’s lid, the familiar smell of the garlic and cumin, the soft weight of it in your hands as you climb the stairwell to the roof. You open as the lights inside flickers to life, cold and blue, attention on the glass container exactly where you left it, lid on, untouched. 

Except—no. Something’s wrong.

The lid is snapped shut, perfectly aligned. The container looks full. But it isn’t. You can feel it before you even lift it—something in the tilt, the balance. Your stomach lurches as you peel the lid off  and confirm what you already know. The food is gone. Not spilled. Not disturbed. Not even a forkful left to scrape from the edges. Just... empty. Clean. Wiped down.

A rare mix of anger, rare but hot, pulses against your ribcage, but before you can storm out and demand answers, you feel the paper crumpled under the container. Your breath stops. It’s your note—the one you’d carefully taped to the top that morning: NOT FOR GENERAL CONSUMPTION. HANDS OFF GREMLINS, it reads in your blocky caps. But now that line has been crossed out in thick, decisive strokes. And underneath it, slanted and dark and horrifyingly familiar: 

That was great, thanks pretty girl.

The world tilts. Your lungs forget how to work. You’ve seen that name before—only in texts, never spoken, never written. Anonymous. Cryptic. Repetitive. A whisper against your spine on nights when the lights were off and your phone lit up with unknown numbers. But this—this isn’t a text. This is here. This is your space, your name, your cooking, your boundary, and someone has walked right through it with ink-stained hands and a stomach full of what you made with care.

A hot flush crawls up your neck, floods your ears. You stagger back a step and catch yourself on the counter. The container slips from your hand and hits the lounge table with a muted thud. The silence in the room turns sharp. 

Then, you shove the fridge shut. The door clangs and rattles in its frame. The room feels like it’s shrinking, like the air has gone sour, too full of other people’s breath. You snatch the note and crush it in your hand. Your teeth clench so hard your jaw pops. You don’t remember turning, but you’re already out the door, slamming into the corridor.

Fin is halfway down the hall with a tablet in hand. He startles and drops it when you barrel past. “Boss? Are you okay—?”

You don’t hear him. You don’t answer. The world has narrowed to one screaming thought: Find Gloria. Now. You need the Chief Medical Officer, need her badge, her keys, her authority. She can pull the security feeds. She can call the police. She can make this stop.

You’re moving before you think to move, feet pounding the tile, vision blurring at the edges. You don’t realize you’re shaking until your elbow clips the corner of the nurse’s station and jolts you. Jules tries to intercept you, her mouth forming your name in alarm, but you dodge past. Margot reaches out, grabs your arm, and for a second your momentum dies.

“What happened?” she demands, voice low, sharp, anchoring.

You look at her. You try to speak. Nothing. Just breathless silence. Then, rasping through a throat too tight to breathe, you say, “Need Gloria.”

She gets it instantly. Her eyes go cold. She lets you go. Already calling instructions behind you as you sprint toward the elevators.

Your fingers hurt. You look down and realize the note is still balled in your fist, crushed so tightly your nails have dug half-moons into your skin. The static in your head has turned into a roar. You feel cracked open, like your worst fear has been confirmed and now all your secrets are leaking out of you for the world to see. All this time, you thought if you could just hold on—just stay composed, stay ahead, stay vigilant—you could keep this from touching the parts of your life that mattered. But now it has. Now it’s here. The hospital was supposed to be your safe place, your fortress. But someone breached it.

The elevator doors open. Thankfully, nothing but an empty gurney is inside. You step in without hesitation, eyes fixed forward, spine locked. You don't even blink when the doors slide shut.

You get out the seconds the doors open and round the corner toward Administration so fast the world blurs, shoulders locked, chest heaving, pulse hammering in your ears so loud it drowns out thought. You barely register the sound of a door opening until a figure steps out from the consult room ahead—short but solid, dreadlocks brushing her shoulders, clipboard hugged tight to her chest.

You collide before either of you can brake.

Papers scatter like startled birds. A pen skitters across the tile and bounces under the nearest corner.

“Whoa—hey!” Kiara grabs you, steady hands catching your elbows before you fall. 

“Slow down, honey,” she says, trying for lightness. “What—”

Then she sees your face.

Whatever was holding you together unravels in a blink. Your eyes fill, your mouth opens, but nothing coherent makes it past your lips. The crushed note slips from your hand, landing between you. The marker-scrawled name glares up from the paper like a fresh wound.

Kiara’s clipboard hits the floor beside it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes.

Her arms come around you before you can bolt or speak or even breathe. And the second she does, the sob rips out of you—gut-deep, involuntary, raw. You bury your face against her soft sweater and shake, fists twisted in the soft cotton, the fabric quickly going damp with tears. Your legs threaten to give. Kiara cradles the back of your head like she would a grief-stricken mother in a quiet room, voice low and steady in your ear.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay. Breathe with me. In, two, three…that’s it. Out, two, three.”

You try. You try to follow her rhythm even as your chest jerks, lungs refusing to cooperate, every breath full of glass. The hallway seems to narrow around you, fluorescent lights too sharp, voices too distant, the floor too unsteady beneath your feet. 

You gasp, trying to speak—Gloria, fridge, note—but your tongue won’t work. The words hit the back of your throat and collapse.

Kiara doesn’t push. She doesn’t ask. Not yet. 

She bends, scoops the note up from the floor, her arm never leaving your shoulders. Her eyes flick over the overwritten scrawl. Her expression goes from gentle to granite.

“Okay,” she says, voice gone iron. “We’re taking this to Gloria. Right now.”

It’s almost scary how easily she connects the dots without a single ounce of context. For now, you can only nod, your body still trembling, your mind clawing for control that just isn’t there anymore. But you’re not alone. Kiara keeps an arm firmly around you as she pulls her phone from her pocket, dials with one hand, presses it to her ear.

“Gloria? Yes, it’s Kiara. I have an urgent security issue. Clear your office.”

A pause. Then a quiet “Thanks.” She ends the call, squeezes your arm, and begins steering you gently toward the elevators.

“She’s waiting. Margot’s on her way too,” Kiara tells you as she guides you through the hallway. 

You nod again, unable to speak, but this time it’s not empty. The words aren’t caught in panic—they’re being held for you, steadied. And for the first time since the messages started, since the stalking began, since the fear turned chronic and tight and unseen—something inside you loosens.

Not gone. But held.

Held by hands stronger than your own.

divider credit

[fellominaarcher]

then you're the best part — Giselle x fem!reader

↳ Fic type: oneshot

↳ Content warning: FLOOOFYY & healthy relationship & maybe a little boring

↳ main m.list | æspa m.list

Beep.

The front door chimed softly—someone had just keyed in the passcode. A click followed, the door unlocking, then the motion sensor light flickered on as someone stepped inside.

Pink-haired and exhausted, Aeri Uchinaga toed off her sleek YSL boots at the threshold, sighing as she sat for a moment on the step just past the genkan. The weight of the day—rehearsals, meetings has finally slid off her shoulders. What time was it now? She checked briefly. 1:03 AM. Too late to be out, but too early to sleep on an anniversary night like this.

Boots off, bag down, she stood and stretched, already hearing faint sounds from the kitchen—pots clinking, water running, familiar domestic noises that belonged to her girl. Y/N was still up, naturally. She was always the night owl of the two, often awake until 3 or 4 AM, either cooking, dancing in socks, or binge-watching some horror show she’d rewatch a million times.

"I'm hooomeee," Aeri called out in a sing-song voice as she passed the kitchen, waving lazily even if she wasn’t sure Y/N saw it. She headed straight to their shared bedroom.

From the kitchen, Y/N’s voice rang out, playful and warm, “Okay-ieee, go shower, lady!”

Aeri chuckled under her breath, already feeling lighter.

Outside, a gentle midnight rain fell. Not heavy. Just that calm, rhythmic kind—the kind of rain that makes you want to curl up in bed or slow-dance barefoot in the living room.

Soft footsteps pattered against the wood flooring behind her. Then, two excited barks.

Aeri smiled without turning around. “Cooper!” she cooed, kneeling just in time for her beloved Sheepadoodle to crash into her arms, tail wagging so hard it thumped against the walls.

“Someone missed me,” she giggled, letting the dog lick her cheeks and chin as she scratched behind his ears. “You’re such a good boy, huh?”

She puckered her lips for a kissy face, and Cooper gave her a dramatic, wet lick right across the mouth. Laughing, she stood up again. “I gotta shower, bub. It’s way past your bedtime.” She tried to sound motherly to a dog.

She puckered her lips for a kissy face, and Cooper gave her a dramatic, wet lick right across the mouth. Laughing, she stood up again. “I gotta shower, bub. It’s way past your bedtime.”

She gave him one last pat before grabbing a towel from the closet, already peeling off her shirt and jeans as she stepped further into the bedroom. Bare-shouldered and flushed from the heat inside the apartment, she padded into the bathroom after removing her makeup in a quick routine. The mirror fogged up fast as she stepped into the shower, letting the hot water hit her tired muscles and wash the day away.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Y/N was focused. Her hands moved with practiced ease, slicing tofu into perfect cubes, then pushing them gently into a bubbling pot of kimchi jjigae. The soup was thick and red, made with love—aged kimchi, green onions, tofu, thinly sliced pork belly, and a dash of sesame oil for extra depth.

The rice cooker dinged in the background. Hot steam poured out as she opened it, scooping fluffy white rice into matching ceramic bowls. Everything was almost ready.

This wasn’t just a late-night craving. It was their third anniversary. Three years of being together—through comebacks, rumors, camera flashes, and stolen vacations. And though Aeri had been booked all day and couldn’t make it home until now, Y/N didn’t mind. She never did, not when it came to Aeri.

Sipping her Coke from a wine glass just for the vibe, Y/N started plating the side dishes with care.

And then enter Cooper.

The Sheepadoodle padded into the kitchen like he owned it, blinking up at her with that innocent, curious look he always wore. Y/N paused, mid-reach for a spoon, and blinked back. It was a full-on staring contest.

And just like that—like a light bulb clicking on—Y/N grinned.

A mischievous little idea formed in her mind, curling up like steam from the soup. “Come here, Cooper,” she whispered, crouching down and motioning to him like a cartoon villain who’d just hatched a plan. “Let’s do something before your mommy comes back.”

Fresh out of the shower, Aeri felt like a brand-new person. Her long pink hair was loosely gathered with a claw clip, some stray bangs falling around her face in soft, messy waves. Dressed in an oversized tee and pajama shorts, she padded barefoot to the dining area, the scent of something spicy and savory drawing her closer.

The lights were dimmed just right. It was cozy, warm and the table was already set with utensils, drinks, and a small Post-it note placed neatly on one of the chairs.

“Have a seat, Ms. Uchinaga.”

Aeri chuckled, the corner of her lips tugging up in fond amusement. “Y/N, you’re so dramatic,” she muttered to herself, but she obeyed, pulling out the chair and sitting down with a soft sigh.

Right on cue, Y/N emerged from the kitchen, holding a tray like a proud little chef at her Michelin-starred restaurant. “Welcome to Y/N’s Restaurant. Hope you enjoy your supper, ma’am,” she grinned, placing the tray on the table and beginning to arrange the plates with care: steaming kimchi jjigae, warm rice, pickled radish, and side dishes arranged with love.

“Hmm, thank you. I’d like one serving of hot food and one serving of you for supper,” Aeri replied with a wink, locking in with Y/N’s playful bit.

Y/N raised a brow and tilted her head dramatically. “Cannibalism? Ma’am, you want to eat me for supper?” she whispered in mock horror before snickering as she placed the kimchi bowl and radish pickles in front of her girlfriend.

Aeri leaned in slightly, the atmosphere suddenly shifting from play to something more tender, her voice softer. “Not when you look this cute.”

Y/N sat down across from her, resting her elbows gently on the table, her chin in her hands as she watched Aeri fondly. “Happy third anniversary, baby. I love you,” she said, her voice warm, eyes glowing with that look, the one that only ever belonged to Aeri.

Aeri’s eyes met hers. A quiet smile formed before she exhaled softly. “Thank you, Y/N. Happy third anniversary to us, cutie. I love you more.” She reached out to take Y/N’s hand, interlacing their fingers naturally, like breathing.

They stayed like that for a moment, letting the silence settle between them. Not awkward, not forced. Just full.

“…And you still owe me a slow dance,” Y/N added, lips curling into a sly smile as she raised a brow.

Aeri laughed under her breath, nodding with a hum. “I haven’t forgotten. A deal’s a deal.” She winked teasingly at Y/N.

Y/N turned her head, then gave a gentle whistle.

Within seconds, Cooper came bounding in from the hallway, except this time, the Sheepadoodle was wearing a birthday cap slightly lopsided on his head. Taped onto the hat was another bright yellow Post-it, clearly written in Y/N’s handwriting.

It read: “From your son, happy 3rd anniversary mommy.”

Aeri burst out laughing, nearly tearing up from the sight. “You didn’t—Y/N!” she squealed, covering her mouth as she watched Cooper sit proudly in front of the table, clearly oblivious to the paper hat flopping over one eye.

“Had to include the real MVP,” Y/N grinned, leaning back with pride. “He helped with the plan.”

Cooper barked, tail wagging like a metronome of joy, and Aeri gestured for him to come closer. “C’mere, baby,” she cooed, pulling out the chair next to her. With a proud little hop, the Sheepadoodle climbed up and settled beside her, sitting tall like he belonged there.

Across the table, Y/N was already laughing, full belly, full heart. “He looks like he’s about to file taxes,” she joked, pointing at the lopsided birthday hat barely hanging onto Cooper’s head. Aeri laughed harder, pulling off the yellow Post-it.

She gave it a quick glance, then let out another giggle, the kind that made her eyes crinkle and her dimples pop. Before she forgot, she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of Cooper, committing this ridiculous moment to memory.

Dinner was filled with warm bites of kimchi jjigae, comfortable conversation, and lots of "here, try this one" across the table. The soup was just spicy enough to fight off the cold rain outside, and Y/N's cooking, while humble, was always her love language, always just what Aeri needed.

Later that night, the two of them settled into the living room, their hands brushing, laughter trailing behind them like perfume. The city was quiet beyond the windows, and the rain hadn’t let up, still drizzling gently, like the sky itself was sighing with them.

And then, another surprise.

Aeri blinked. “What…?”

The lights were dimmed, but in front of them, strung across the living room wall, was a 3-meter-long trail of Christmas tree lights, glowing gold, green, and red, throwing soft shadows across their features. The same ones they’d packed away in January, the ones that made the room feel like a home.

From the corner of the room, the Bluetooth speaker came to life—click, a small buzz—and then, soft and low, the opening chords of “Best Part” by Daniel Caesar ft. H.E.R. played.

Y/N turned to her with that signature grin, that confident little tilt of her head. “Dance with me.” She invited Aeri with a hand extended out.

Aeri didn’t even hesitate.

They met in the center of the living room, arms slipping around each other like they were molded that way. Y/N’s hands found Aeri’s waist; Aeri's arms wrapped gently around her neck. The lights cast halos across their faces, catching on lashes, lips, pink hair and sleepy eyes.

“You don’t know, babe…” the lyrics melted into the room like honey.

Y/N leaned in slightly, whispering in Aeri’s ear, “I forgot to say earlier... congratulations, baby. To you. To aespa. Billboard Women in Music? That’s insane. I’m so proud of you.” Her eyes bored into Aeri's dark eyes.

Aeri exhaled a laugh, shaking her head bashfully. “Thank you… that means a lot coming from the prettiest girl in this apartment.” She responded with a grin on her face.

“Well, Cooper’s very flattered,” Y/N teased.

Right on cue, the Sheepadoodle spun in circles around them, yipping with joy and tail wagging furiously. His little hat had finally fallen off. The couple broke into laughter, their bodies swaying with the music.

“You’re the coffee that I need in the morning…”

Aeri leaned in and pressed her lips to Y/N’s. It wasn’t showy or rushed, just a soft kiss that tasted like comfort and rain and love in its purest form. She didn’t let go. She buried her face into the crook of Y/N’s neck, breathing her in.

“I’m such a lucky girl,” Aeri whispered against her skin.

Then she bent down, scooping Cooper up in her arms, the cute dog wiggling excitedly as she brought him back to their little dance floor.

“Okay, come on, you too,” she said with a giggle. “Family dance.”

And so, under the golden glow of borrowed Christmas lights, while the rain kept singing to the windows, Aeri and Y/N slow danced in their pajamas—arms wrapped around each other, and Cooper sandwiched between them, tail wagging in time with the music.

It was perfect.

æspa m.list | main m.list

[chutefullofholes]

020. jamming out to a christmas song, and inflicting the pain of holiday songs on someone else. - for Bucky, please 🥹

Their house at the end of the road came into view as Gale turned the truck onto their street, headlights cutting through the early dusk. The Christmas lights their neighbors had put up blinked against the snow, the inflatable reindeer John had convinced him to stick in their own front yard rocking a little from the wind.

Inside the truck John's singing carried over the hum of the engine, and the voice of Bing Crosby's rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas coming through the radio. Gale failed at stifling a laugh when his voice cracked- his husband remaining undeterred and not needing his encouragement anyways when he had his own cheerleader.

"Daddy you needta' do Jingle Bells," Josie piped up from the backseat, leaning forward as much as she could to make her request.

“All right, all right,” John said and grabbed for his phone to queue it up on Spotify.

As he turned the volume up Gale passed their house and made a left to do another loop around the neighborhood.

“Wouldn’t want to cut the show short,” He said, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth when John squeezed his knee.

As the final notes of Jingle Bells faded out Gale guided the truck up the driveway, the motion sensor light above the garage flickering. It needed a new bulb, but the Christmas lights dangling off the roof served the same purpose for now.

Climbing out of the truck after John, the cold bit at his face at the same second Josie barreled into the side of his legs. Snow crunched under all their boots, John shoving his hands in his pockets, grin lingering.

"Not itching for an encore?" He joked and bumped his shoulder, Gale's chuckling.

Josie unfurled from Gale to walk in between them, hopping a little with each step. "I think you sing pretty daddy," She chimed in, giggling at the sight of her breath making clouds in the cold.

"Thank you baby," John said as he ruffled her hair to the extent that he could over her beanie. He stopped just before Gale reached for the door, catching the back of his elbow.

"Hey," He started, teasing edge gone from lowered voice. "You okay?"

Gale paused, his gaze lingering on John’s face for a moment before looking down at Josie, still giggling at the sight of her own breath.

"Yeah, just," He started, wetting his lips and blinking against the snowflakes in his lashes. He glanced down at Josie and back up at John, lump forming in his throat that he couldn't press down. "Good, good to be together,"

John only faltered for a few seconds before he moved his arm up around his shoulders to tug him just a little closer, pressing a kiss to the edge of his forehead. He dropped his voice just enough for Gale to hear as he pulled back, gloved thumb rubbing where it had come to rest on his neck.

"'m glad I stayed too.”

“I’m co-ld,” Josie interrupted, tugging at the side of both their coats, bouncing on her heels.

Gale chuckled softly, as he shifted his focus to typing in the door code. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you, bug. We’re going,”

When he got the door open John brushed ahead of him to lift Josie up over the threshold first, not putting her down inside the house until he'd given her a good spin.

When he set her on her feet Gale took over helping her get her winter layers off, catching John's eyes as he pulled the undid the buttons on her coat. It was the same tenderness he always found when he caught him staring, but there was a flicker of something else there now.

Josie took off running the second she was down to just her dress and tights, Gale standing back up to hang her stuff on the hook, glancing behind himself to make sure she was out of earshot before he spoke.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly and John hummed, as he shed his jacket, dropping it on the bench by the door and reaching out to hold Gale's face in one hand, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

“Mhm,” John replied. “Don't think I've ever been better,”

When John stepped back Gale caught himself thinking about how, not long ago he would've been making himself nauseous trying to work out whether he could believe his husband's own assurances or not.

But Josie’s voice came through from the living room, calling for them both, and the smile that reached his eyes said more than enough to quash that ghost.

Every good day is another day that what you left behind is in the past, his therapist had said a few weeks ago, and Gale had understood what she meant at the time- but her voice in his head had a way of suddenly reaching just a notch deeper.

“Hold your horses, Jos, we’re comin’!” John called out, his voice affectionate as he kicked off his shoes, and leaned in for another kiss before nudging Gale down the hallway toward the sound of their daughter.

Gale exhaled and smiled as he walked ahead of him, his cheeks flushed half from the lingering chill and half from the warmth spreading through him.

[indeedcaptain]

Regulatory Relations, Chapter 22: The Captain

Holy fucking shitballs, yall. This is the end.

Posted on my AO3 here.

All I really have to say after this is thank you.

☆☆☆

Dear Mom and Dad, 

Dear Winona and George, 

Guess what!

Hi, 

[Are you sure you want to close the program? Your content will not be saved. YES / NO] 

☆☆☆

On the first day after the trial, Kirk took ShiKahr’s public transit from Amanda and Sarek’s house through the city center, and out the other side. Alone on the train as it flew along its magnetic track, he watched out the window as the now-familiar sandstone buildings whirled by. They passed the judicial complex where he had spent the entire previous day: he had walked in a suspect and walked out a free man. It rose up before him, sprawling and imposing, passed in an instant, and then vanished. Kirk turned forward again, letting the rest of the city pass him by, and waited for his stop.

The Vulcan Science Academy complex was housed on the outskirts of ShiKahr, built without formal boundaries to account for its near-constant expansion. It crept further and further out into the Forge— the buildings nearest the public entrance were the oldest, their corners sandblasted into curves by the desert wind, but the newest ones, built to house new advances in technology and new fields of research, were still sharp-edged and angular. The hospital was one of the oldest buildings in the complex--- one of the oldest buildings in the city, according to the lecture Spock gave Kirk and Bones that morning over breakfast. It had originally been a temple, housing healers in the millenia before Surak, a holdover from Vulcan’s war-torn history. Even after the wars had ended, the people who lived on the planet needed care, and so the temple of healers remained, now known as one of the most advanced teaching hospitals in the galaxy. 

Kirk gave his name at the front desk, which was manned by a young Vulcan woman wearing scrubs and a student badge, and was granted entrance. He rode a swift and silent elevator up to the eighth floor and stepped out into a warmly lit hall. Enormous windows at either end of the hallway and the recessed light bulbs set into the ceiling gave the impression of midday sun, despite the early hour. He heard voices coming from the left side, and so he turned that way. 

Around another corner he found two Vulcan doctors and a third human one, deep in conversation next to a bench and a variety of potted cacti. The human doctor, with graying red hair and a petite build, turned to him as he approached and said, “I thought you might come by.” Sarah April nodded to the other doctors before she gestured in front of her, and Kirk fell into step beside her. She led him deeper into the labyrinthine building--- the layout designed before the Vulcan preoccupation with logic--- and eventually stopped next to a closed door with a Vulcan sign appended to the front, a phonetic translation of April’s name. She smiled with sad eyes and said, “I’ll be outside if you need anything.” 

Kirk nodded, and opened the door. 

Admiral Robert April lay quietly in a biobed, surrounded by beeping machines and sensors. His head had been shaved, electrodes stuck to his scalp in a neat grid, and his dark skin was sallow under the lights. For a moment Kirk stood in the doorway, unwilling to wake him if he was resting, but then April rolled his head on the pillow to look at him. 

“Enter,” he said, and Kirk did. There was a chair tucked into the corner with a blanket folded over the back of it. Kirk dragged it next to the bed and sat. The whites of April’s eyes were yellowed with exhaustion. Kirk looked at him; the man who had set everything in motion. How much of his behavior was Elise pulling the strings? How much was April unleashed? 

“What do you want, Kirk?” April’s voice was tired, dry, almost a whisper. Kirk had had grand plans--- he had rehearsed what he wanted to say on the train ride there. He had told Spock where he was going and what he wanted to do, and Spock had sent him off with a kiss and a promise to see him later. But his words failed when he looked at the battered body of the man he had thought was his enemy. 

He still saw the phaser fire before it tore through Spock when he looked at April. He saw himself on his knees in the gritty dust of Kindinos, and saw the sniper with the plasma rifle settling her sights on both of them. But he also saw the blinking brutality of the neutralizer and April’s muffled screams beneath it. He saw April, months ago, trying to pull Spock to safety with a promotion to a science ship far from him. He saw April fighting that hidden programming to allow him and his crew to leave the 31 ship with Elise in tow. 

Elise would have hated what he was about to do--- she never could have understood it. Maybe that was why he had to say it. 

“Thank you,” Kirk said. “For what you tried to do for Spock.” April rolled his head away from Kirk, looking up at the ceiling, and scoffed tiredly. 

“For all the good it did, in the end.” 

Kirk shifted to the edge of his chair. He had expected defensiveness, or the silent treatment; not this bone-deep resignation. “For all the good it did? Admiral, if you hadn’t forced the issue, you would still be stuck on that ship and that woman would still be running Section 31.” April looked back at him. “Spock and I only put together all the pieces after we had to start talking about marriage and bonding, and we only did that because you were going to take him away otherwise.” Kirk considered April’s shaved head, the scattering of machines and their symphony of beeping and whirring. He could have left then, his mission accomplished. But something in April’s haggard face told him that the other man was lost.

“I’m sorry that she did this to you,” Kirk said recklessly. “And I’m sorry for putting you here.” April shook his head shallowly. 

“I knew…” he said slowly. “I knew that the charges were a sham. I knew they wouldn’t stick. This was what I wanted.” His voice dragged, like he was having a hard time connecting his mind to his mouth. “You can go, Kirk.” 

Kirk didn’t move. “What are you going to do next?” 

“Resign,” April said. “Retire.” 

“That’s it? You’re going to give up?” The volume of his voice rose involuntarily. April’s eyes flashed to him--- the first movement that matched the vigor that Kirk had come to expect from him. 

“What would you have me do? Weasel back into a desk job after I defiled everything Starfleet stands for?”

“And how much of that was voluntary, Admiral? How much of working for 31 was voluntary at all?” 

In a blink, the fight melted back out of him. April looked away from him. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know anymore.” 

Kirk leaned back in his chair, and for a moment they sat in silence, the only sound the beeping of the machinery. Then Kirk said, “Can I be honest with you?” 

“I doubt anyone could stop you from doing so.” 

“I don’t think it matters anymore, whether or not you know if it was voluntary,” Kirk said. “Enough of it wasn’t, and then you fought it. What matters now is what you’re going to do about it.” 

April raised one hand weakly and gestured at the hospital room around him. “And what am I going to do about it?”

“Fix it,” Kirk said. “Find a way to talk about what you can’t talk about, and then help fix it.”  When April finally looked at him again, there was a spark of life in his eyes: there was hope, a desperate hope, and the yawning cavern of an isolation that Kirk could only begin to understand. 

“How?”

Kirk shifted his chair closer again. “Listen,” he said. “On Vulcan, what she did to us is called nekwitaya …” 

Their situations were different, of course; the sheer volume of scarring in April’s brain was going to require a lot more hands-on medical care than Kirk had needed. But there was no better place for April to recover than on Vulcan, where a planet of telepaths and scientists understood the gravity of what had been done to him. Here, though there was no undoing what had been done, April stood a chance of healing from it. 

When Kirk left, Sarah April was sitting outside the room, reading on her padd. She stood as he exited, concern pulling her eyebrows together and deepening the creases in her face. Kirk sent her Dr. Rowan McIntire’s contact information, and then he went home. 

☆☆☆

The rest of that day was spent on logistics and organization. Kirk and Spock’s bonding would have none of the violence and circumstance of Spock and T’Pring’s koon-ut-kal-if-fee . They were not children, and there would be no challenge: they needed only their consent and a telepath to perform the bonding. Kirk was vaguely disconcerted by the sheer number of details that went into what was, in effect, a simple backyard wedding ceremony, and made a note to give Janice a commendation for coordinating both their engagement party and their first wedding with seventy-two hours’ notice. 

Despite the fervent and genuine invitation that Kirk had extended, Neera Ketoul excused herself from the bonding festivities after he returned from his visit to April. “I do have other clients to attend to, Captain Kirk,” she said, but she shook his hand warmly when he walked her to the aircar that would return her to the transport hub and away. 

“If there’s ever anything that we can do for you, just say the word,” Kirk said. “We could not have done this without you.” 

“Maybe not,” she agreed, with her hand on the door of the aircar. She considered him, her dark eyes and skin shining under the hot Vulcan sun. “My people are not part of the Federation,” she said. “There is a lot of mistrust on both sides, perhaps too much to overcome. But men like you make me think that someday it could be.” 

Later that night, as Bones washed and dried the dishes from dinner, Amanda reached out to the clan to request the services of a healer to perform the bonding, and Spock convinced a local restaurant to cater enough food for at least twenty people on such short notice, Kirk received a high-priority message on his padd from Starfleet HQ. 

Dear Captain Kirk, 

Congratulations! Though, naturally, the details of your court-martial are classified, I’ve received a new set of orders that make me think I can guess how it went. I’ve been called to Vulcan immediately to assist with [THIS MESSAGE HAS BEEN REDACTED]. 

My formal title might be regulations administrator, but not many know that this role includes enforcement, compliance, and oversight, as needed. I think I’m going to have a lot to do over the next few months. 

I’ve been asked to assemble a team for it, which is why I’m reaching out today--- it’s a bit irregular, but if you’re willing to sign off on the transfer and if she agrees, I’d like to request Yeoman Janice Rand for it. She’s got an unparalleled grasp of how and why regulation works in practice, and I could use a mind like hers for what we’re trying to do. 

Let me know what you think, and what she thinks. 

My best to you and the commander. :)

LC Kathleen Lee

Kirk read the message twice before carrying it to Spock, claiming the open seat next to him at the island in the kitchen. Spock scanned it and said, handing it back, “If Yeoman Rand takes this post, I do not believe we will see her again in any short amount of time.” Bones turned to them curiously, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. He cocked an eyebrow up. 

“Oh, I think we’ll see her again,” Kirk said. “It’ll just be when she’s running for president of the Federation.” 

☆☆☆

On the second day after the trial, the morning of his and Spock’s bonding ceremony, Kirk sat undressed on the end of their bed and stared at the empty text block on his padd screen. 

Dear Mom and Dad, I’m getting married today, again. 

I’m Vulcan-bonding with my first officer today. 

Did you go to Sam and Aurelan’s wedding? Would you want to come to mine?

Spock stepped out of the bathroom, barefoot and in an untied robe, and sat down next to him to look at what he was working on. Kirk closed the program and tossed the padd on the bed behind him before leaning into Spock. He was warm and fresh from the sonic, olive and bronzed from months on Vulcan. 

“Do you wish your parents were attending?” Spock’s voice was gentle. 

“Not enough to have written them about it earlier,” Kirk said, and when Spock leaned over him, one long hand against his sternum, he let Spock push him backwards onto the bed. “There’s so much to fix before we’d even get to that point.” 

Spock’s lips brushed the skin behind his ear, down his neck, across one collarbone. “At our current rate, we will have another wedding in approximately eighteen months. You can reevaluate at that point.” Kirk laughed, and Spock’s hand skimmed down his arm, flipping their hands to be palm-to-palm and pressing his down into the mattress. 

“I thought you were tired of parties,” Kirk teased. Spock nipped at him. 

“I have been convinced of their utility,” he said, and slid his hands under Kirk’s hips in a clear attempt to distract him further. His efforts were successful.

The survivors arrived at the house just as the sun was beginning its graceful descent towards the mountains on the horizon beyond the Forge. Kevin wore his dress uniform, but the others were in civilian attire: Ellie and Tommy in near-matching black suits, much to Mira’s delight, and Martha in a dress. Mira wore a hot pink one-piece garment that Kirk couldn’t have named if he had tried, but he watched with a grin as Ellie teased her dryly about having brought party clothes to a court-martial (“We were only coming to testify!”) and Mira defended herself (“Wasn’t I right, though?”).

Bones also wore his uniform. He sidled up to Kirk as they greeted the survivors at the front gate, Vulcan’s closest approximation to a mint julep in hand. 

“Seems to me like you’re starting to wrap things up here, Jim,” he said. “You’ve got more time. No need to rush back into things.” 

Kirk glanced sidelong at him as his friends passed by, led by Amanda towards the garden where the bonding would take place. “I think I’ve had enough time away,” he said. “I don’t want to sit still any longer.” 

Bones’s eyes were shrewd. “But you did sit still for at least a little bit, right?” Down the road a pair of figures began to materialize out of the heat shimmering off the pavement: a round human figure with a short dark thatch of hair, and a bear-sized lump of white and brown. 

“I did,” Kirk said, and watched as the two abstract shapes slowly became Rowan and Suk’han as they approached. “Actually, this is someone I’d like you to meet.” Rowan wore her everyday professional attire that Kirk had come to recognize, but she had woven cactus blossoms into a crown and placed it jauntily over Suk’han’s ears. 

“You’re looking well, Jim,” Rowan said, and smiled approvingly. He grinned and shrugged back at her before turning to Bones. 

“Rowan, this is my chief medical officer, Bones. Leonard McCoy, this is Rowan McIntire. She, ah… she’s the new therapist.”

“Oh?” Bones extended his hand, turning completely towards her to get a better look. 

“The famous Dr. McCoy!” Rowan shook his hand and accepted his inspection. “Tell me, how do you get Bones from Leonard?” As they clasped hands, some sort of mysterious medical understanding passed between them; when Bones smiled back at her, it was genuine. 

“You ask him politely, ma’am,” Bones said, and Rowan laughed wickedly. Suk’han, apparently tired of not being the center of Kirk’s attention, pushed her head against his sternum and leaned a portion of her significant mass against him. 

“Hello to you too,” he murmured, and passed his hands through the thick fur at the base of her neck. She nuzzled him sweetly, and for a moment, abandoning his pretexts at dignity, he threw his arms around her neck entirely. Then he released her, left Bones and Rowan to get to know each other, and went to find his husband. 

The senior staff of the Enterprise were next to arrive. In small groups they beamed down outside the garden gates: Sulu, Chekov, and Pike, then Uhura, Chapel, Janice, and Priyal Khan at Spock’s invitation, and then Sal Giotto and Scotty. Uhura’s feet had no sooner settled into the sand before she was moving, throwing her arms around Spock and Kirk. Spock’s hand came up to stroke affectionately over the back of her hair, but Kirk couldn’t help himself: he picked her up and swung her in a circle as her laughter rang out. There were embraces and back slaps and handshakes all around from his friends; they accepted him back into their ranks as if he had never left.

“God, it’s good to see you all,” he said, grinning so hard his cheeks ached. He squatted next to Chris’s chair to hear him better over the hubbub. His crew mingled in the garden among the cacti and shrubbery with Spock’s parents, Rowan, and the Tarsus survivors. Amanda and Rowan talked quietly by the table of beverages, and something Rowan said made Amanda’s quiet laugh burble through the garden. Suk’han was ecstatic on her back as Mira, Uhura, and Chapel cooed over her spots and rubbed her belly. “How have things been?”

“Surprisingly quiet,” Chris said. “Seems as though you’re the magnet for most of the trouble that the Enterprise gets in.” 

“Hey, now,” Kirk complained, and his eyes found Spock across the way, dark and handsome in the goldenrod light of dusk. “Spock was gone too. Maybe he’s the magnet.” 

“You just keep telling yourself that, son,” Chris laughed. “Maybe someday you’ll convince someone else.” He navigated his hoverchair carefully around Amanda’s plants to talk to Spock, and Kirk basked in the presence of so many of his loved ones. As he stood alone, looking over the assembled, something painful twinged in his heart. Sam should have been here. After so many wounds had been healed and problems solved, part of Kirk thought that Sam and his ridiculous mustache should have emerged, laughing and whole, from behind some curtain. It didn’t seem fair that, after everything, Sam and Aurelan were still dead.

He took a sip of his drink and tilted his head back, letting the last of the day’s sunlight wash over him. I miss you, he thought fervently. I wish you were here for all this. He pictured Sam as he remembered him: throwing open the door to his hospital room, skipping classes with him after his return to school, showing him around the Academy campus when he first arrived, the holos of him holding baby Peter after he was born. He held the ache in his chest with both hands, letting himself miss Sam, before he opened his eyes again. The ache didn’t go away, but it took up a safe and manageable residence in his heart next to everything else. Then he exhaled and rejoined his friends.

Kirk was turned away from the garden entrance, talking to Scotty and Giotto, and so he didn’t see her when she arrived. He only heard the sudden hush that fell over those gathered, and in the silence, he turned. 

T’Pau swept towards him through the garden, the edges of her robes disturbing the sand in tornado-like swirls. It seemed like even the insects and the night-birds had fallen quiet in her presence. Kirk raised the ta’al and glanced quickly at Spock. 

“Elder T’Pau,” he said. “What can I do for you?” He felt, more than saw, Spock wind his way through the crowd and materialize at his side. T’Pau considered him, the half-light casting the wrinkles of her face in sharp contrast. 

“ S’chn T’gai James Kirk,” she said finally. “Thee and Spock are to be bonded.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. She nodded once. Her eyes glinted in the fading light, no less shrewd for her age. 

“Thee has done Vulcan a service,” she said. She raised one hand, her robes collapsing down around her elbow. “If thee will give thy mind, I will bond thee.” Spock’s shoulders settled back in surprise as he clasped his hands behind his back, and Amanda’s eyebrows shot upwards before she reined her facial expression back into a warm neutrality. 

“It would be an honor,” Kirk said, when he found his voice. Spock shifted closer to him, their shoulders brushing, and they both sank to their knees under T’Pau’s titanium gaze. Their family, their friends, formed a loose circle around them and the leader of their clan as T’Pau raised both hands. 

“I will bond thee in the way of our people,” T’Pau said, her voice sonorous in the desert evening. “What thee will witness comes down from the time of the beginning without change. This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way. Kah-if-farr! ”

She lowered her hands, and for a second, before she put her fingers on Kirk’s face, she waited. Kirk closed his eyes and nodded. With that consent, she placed her fingers on his psi-points, and the world around him vanished. 

It was dark in the meld. T’Pau’s mind was vast and echoing around him. He could feel the enormity of her intellect, her age, the reverberating katric energy that she carried. He felt very small. He was a speck in the darkness, one single star in the galaxy, and he felt the scrunity when that gargantuan mind came to focus on him. 

James Kirk , T’Pau said. This is the Vulcan way. Thee gives thy mind willingly to another?

There was a tiny part of him, ancient and wounded, that longed to flinch, if only out of habit. But he had not spent the past four months excavating his heart to give in to that habit now. I give it to Spock , Kirk said, or thought. He felt the rumble of her approval rattle the world around him. 

Speak our words, she told him. I would bond with thee, ever and always touching and touched . 

Kirk repeated them back, stumbling at first but then growing in strength: I would bond with thee, ever and always touching and touched. He said them again and again until he could feel his heart beating in time with its rhythm. He heard the echoes of hundreds of thousands of bonded pairs singing with him in T’Pau’s ancestral memory. He repeated them until he could feel himself vibrating with it; he glowed with his conviction. This was for Spock, this was for his best friend and his husband, the man who had walked into hell for him and carried him out--- this was what Kirk wanted to give to him. 

Then, in the darkness --- there was light. A golden sun erupted into flames on the far horizon of T’Pau’s mind. It soared from an impossible distance towards him, trailing a burning thread like a meteor shower behind it, before falling towards him. Kirk held out both hands and caught the tiny star in his palms. It burned. It loved him. It unspooled into thread and formed a glimmering road from his hands to some indescribable point in the dark void beyond, stretching on forever. He felt T’Pau’s sudden and fierce curiosity, so like Spock’s, and the roaring approval of those who had come before him as it lit the way forward. 

This is the Vulcan heart , T’Pau said. Her voice was as stoic as ever, but beneath it, reverberating through the meld-space, he could hear something that was almost surprise. Guidance is unnecessary for thee now. Follow the bond. There was an enormous shifting around him as T’Pau closed parts of her mind off to him; it was suddenly quieter than he had ever experienced. There was only his mind, and his thrumming heartbeat, and the golden burning string that pulled him forward. Follow the bond, James Kirk, T’Pau said. 

Kirk took a fumbling step forward in the darkness, feet falling unsteadily towards the invisible floor under him. Then another. Then another. The string pulled him forward, steadying him, anchoring him. He knew where he was going now. At the far end of the road before him was Spock, his ecstatic curiosity and his secret kindness and the beautiful mind that he had offered to Kirk without reservation. 

Kirk wrapped both hands in the nascent bond before him and took off running. 

Ever and always, ever and always, ever and always . 

The bond grew hotter and hotter in his hands, glowing brighter until it had all but banished the inky void around him. He had been wrong about the color--- it was gold, but it wasn’t only gold. It was the silver of the Enterprise , and the burgundy of Spock’s old quarters. It was the cream and green and gold of wedding streamers, and the blue of a science tunic. It was the umber of Vulcan sand and the black of uniform trousers and the yellow of an Iowa cornfield and the teal of a Tarsus sky. It was everything that was both of them, and it burned in his hands. 

The sense of T’Pau was fading, that ancient intellect melting away. It was replaced instead by the insistent surety that Spock was near, that he was following the same path from the other side. The sense of him grew with every step as the bond glowed white-hot until it was too hot to hold. Even when he dropped it Kirk could feel it in and around him. 

He was in the center of a star, and it flared around him. He was going to burn with it. It was all-encompassing, inescapable, incomprehensible. 

I would bond with thee, he said to the star. Ever and always touching and touched. 

Spock said, I would bond with thee, and his voice was everywhere. Ever and always touching and touched . Spock’s mind was everywhere, and Kirk dissolved in it. He settled entirely into Spock’s hands as Spock spun around him. 

My Jim , Spock said, nearly purring with satisfaction. They tangled in each other.

K’diwa , Kirk said. In the meld there was no hiding his delight. Honey! Spock’s mind curled around his, and Kirk threw his arms open to accept it. He had not known before how literal the translation ‘meld’ was for what he felt: there was no separating them now as they spun around each other, a binary star system, a hurricane, inextricably entwined. He had feared this intimacy so entirely when they had first married, pushing Spock away to prevent the opportunity from ever arising. But none of that fear remained. There was no part of himself that he wouldn’t trust Spock to see and hold. They swung around each other as the star of the nascent bond burned. It slowly consolidated, condensing down from uncontrollable flame into something more like a bridge. It refracted into every color Kirk had ever seen before it settled into a solid arc from his mind to Spock’s. It glowed. 

Spock pressed on it, and it reverberated. Kirk laughed as he felt it vibrate through him, rumbling his bones, lighting up his mind. 

Bondmates , Kirk said. 

Telsu , Spock said. His voice was steady, but there was no hiding his emotion in the bond: it sang with his pleasure. Slowly Kirk became aware of his body again, as well as his mind and the bond. He remembered that there was a world outside of their minds, T’Pau and Spock’s parents and their friends, and he felt Spock’s amusement at his chagrin. 

We will have time, ashayam , Spock said, and in the swirling abyss of the meld Kirk felt his arms come around him. With the bond glowing like a meteor shower between them, he carried them back to the world. 

Kirk’s eyes opened. T’Pau pulled her hands from his and Spock’s faces, shaking her robes back down over her wrists. 

“Thee are bonded,” she declared without preamble, and she only blinked once as the unruly humans around her whooped and hollered. She caught Kirk’s eyes, looking down on him from where he still knelt in the sand, and she nodded. They were now even, he thought, and somehow he was certain that he and Spock would be welcomed back to Vulcan whenever they chose to return. He turned to Spock, a wide smile splitting his face, and Spock pulled him to his feet. The touch of his hands seared through him. By the time he had turned back to T’Pau to thank her, she was already halfway across the garden, a black-robed mass vanishing into the dark. He watched her go until a pulsing warmth in the back of his head pulled his attention back to the garden. Spock watched him, outwardly stoic, but Kirk could feel him through the bond: a subtle and curious joy that he knew didn’t belong to him. The sun had set while they were in the meld, and in the evening twilight Spock glowed in his vision with some invisible, intangible psychic energy.

He held two fingers out, and Spock met him in the ozh’esta. His eyes widened as their hands met and that energy arced between their hands, flashing up his arm and making his hair stand on end. Spock’s amusement and the dark heat of a promise for later in the evening soaked into his mind. 

“I get it now,” he breathed. For a moment the heat overwhelmed him; he only wanted to drag Spock back to the guesthouse and make love to him while the new bridge sang between their minds. But their friends were here to celebrate them; they would have time enough later. With the knowledge of what was to come heating his thoughts, they turned back to their family and friends to celebrate beneath the desert sky. 

The night stretched on as Kirk and Spock mingled with their loved ones. Every brush of their fingers or casual touch sparked down Kirk’s skin, driving him to distraction, and Spock’s well-hidden amusement was evident through the bond. Kirk could feel him in the back of his mind, like Spock had a hand on the back of his neck, and he couldn’t stop himself from nuzzling his mind against the spot just to feel Spock glow with pleasure on the other side. 

Eventually, both too soon and not soon enough, the guests started to say their goodbyes. Tommy and Martha left first, with the promise that they would come by the next day to see Kirk again before they went home, then Mira and Ellie. Rowan and Suk’han followed, much to Chapel and Uhura’s disappointment. Rowan gave Kirk a hug before she left. 

“You keep my information, you hear?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Kirk said. 

“My new best friend Bones will tell me if you need to reach out and you don’t,” she said, and Kirk’s eyes widened with betrayal. 

“I never should have introduced the two of you!”

Rowan shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “But it’s too late now.” She waited as Kirk pressed his forehead to Suk’han’s, fondling her ears and accepting a rough-scrape lick across his cheek, and then, with one more smile, she left. Bones appeared at his shoulder. 

“I like her,” he said immediately, and Kirk slapped him on the back. 

“I’m sure you do,” he said. The Enterprise crew started beaming back up to the ship as well; Bones retrieved his things from the main house and accepted hugs from Amanda and Kirk before he left. As Janice stepped forward with Uhura and Chapel, Kirk snagged her arm. 

“If you don’t mind too terribly,” he said. “I have a work question for you.” 

“Sure, captain,” she said, and nodded to Christine and Uhura for them to continue on without her. Kevin dropped in behind them, returning to the Enterprise rather than ShiKahr now that the trial was over. Kirk steered them a few paces away from the rest of the crew as Spock saw them off, trying not to twitch as Spock left his side for the first time since they were bonded, and said, “I received an interesting message today.” 

Janice’s eyebrows went up. “Interesting how?” 

“It was a job offer for you.” Her eyebrows went higher, climbing towards her braided beehive. 

“What type of job?” 

Kirk considered her, trying to gauge how best to explain Lee’s offer. He mentally backed up, and instead put both hands on her shoulders. 

“Thank you,” he said first. “For all your help before the trial. I don’t know what we would have done without you.” 

“Oh,” she said, pleased, and looked down. “I’m sure that it would have been fine, you had Kathleen---” Then she cut herself off, and to Kirk’s immense surprise, blushed. “Lieutenant Commander Lee,” she said awkwardly. 

“Now, Janice,” Kirk said slowly, grinning, “What’s all this about?” 

“Nothing, captain,” she said immediately. Kirk shook her by the shoulders.

“We are at my wedding, yeoman,” he said, and released her. “I think you can be a little personal, if you want.” She looked up at him, blue eyes enormous, and covered her cheeks with the backs of her fingers before she said, “It’s nothing. It’s really nothing. It’s just…” She took a deep breath and said, her blush returning with a vengeance, “I’ve never met anyone whose mind works like hers before. Like mine. Working with her…” She trailed off and looked down.  

“You like her,” Kirk said, and Spock looked over at him in response to his pulse of delight over the bond. 

“I don’t know,” she protested. Kirk had never seen her at a loss for words before. “I’ve never even met her in person. I just…”

“She offered you a job,” Kirk said, unable to hide the grin spreading across his face. “She messaged me today. If you want it, I’ll sign your transfer.”

“What?” Her voice was sharp with shock. She covered her cheeks again. The bond in the back of Kirk’s head vibrated and shivered as Spock approached. 

“I believe her exact words were, ‘She’s got an unparalleled grasp of how and why regulation works in practice,’” Spock said. “She has been tasked with something in the aftermath of the court-martial, and requested you for her staff.” Janice pressed her hands harder against her cheeks. 

“I… But…” She looked up at them, her eyes shining. 

“Yeoman,” Kirk said, and felt Spock settle his hand at the base of his spine. The contact sent shivers over his skin, refracting in his vision. “Can I give you some advice?” She nodded. He leaned into Spock’s shoulder and said, “Take the leap.” 

Janice closed her eyes and nodded again. Then she dropped her hands away from her face and straightened, and Kirk saw the steel in her spine reassert itself. 

“By your leave, captain,” she said, voice high with excitement, and Kirk nodded. With one more mischievous grin breaking out over her face, she turned and ran to where Giotto was waiting to beam up. Kirk and Spock turned to the last of their guests. The rest of the crew then beamed back to the ship, and when Kirk watched them go, it was with the knowledge that he would be joining them soon.

He and Spock helped clear away the detritus of celebration, and under the light of T’Khut stole away back to the guesthouse. Before the door had even shut behind them entirely Spock had pushed him back against it. It clicked sharply in the silence, and before the echo had even faded away entirely Spock was on him, tongue and teeth against his skin and his hand sliding down into his trousers. Finally he could focus entirely on the new bond in the back of his mind. When he closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the door as Spock licked down his neck, he felt not only his own arousal, but Spock’s too, shuddering over the bond in great gasps. He pulled Spock’s face to his so he could kiss him. He slid his tongue past the seam of Spock’s lips as they parted for him, one of Spock’s hands coming up to cradle the back of his head and hold him in place. He listened, and felt it like the ocean: behind a barrier that he could only assume were Spock’s shields, some raging morass swelled. Kirk slid his hands under Spock’s robes, running them up his chest, and he could feel it: both Spock’s heat and skin under his palms, but also the mirror of the feeling through the bond, the way Spock tingled and lit up at his touch. Their mutual arousal bounced between them, magnifying with each pass down the bond of nails against backs and teeth against nipples and tongues against skin. Kirk pushed him backwards towards the bed, pulling Spock’s robes off his shoulders and sliding his hands greedily over the miles and miles of exposed skin. He glowed in the light of T’Khut through the windows, rippled scars and body hair and bony joints all illuminated for Kirk’s admiration. Spock was his, every inch and neuron, to touch and hold and love. 

“Yours,” Spock murmured in response as he let Kirk push him backwards onto the bed. Kirk crawled over him, relishing the mirrored drag of skin and hair, the way Spock ground up against his thigh between his legs. 

Yours , Kirk thought down the bond, as loudly as he could, and felt Spock’s mind throb in response. The dual sensations of both him and Spock were overwhelming. He was flying blind, but he followed his instincts: he pressed his mind messily against Spock’s shields as he kissed and licked and bit down his body. Let me in, let me see you. 

Ashayam--- Spock’s mind-voice was breathless as Kirk took him into his mouth, kneeling between his legs. His own cock throbbed, untouched, as what Spock was feeling flooded over him. He felt giddy with overstimulation, high on the sensation of the reverberating bond, the tether between their minds bouncing with movement and arousal. He crawled back up the bed to retrieve the lubricant from Spock’s bedside table. When he settled back next to him to work him open, Spock peeled back the layers of his shields in a striptease unlike any other.

Kirk did not frequently forget that Spock was an alien, a completely different species than himself; but it had never been so apparent than it did when Spock’s senses started to leak down the bond. His hearing was far keener than Kirk’s, his color vision slightly different, his sense of smell completely different. He closed his eyes to take it all in as he opened Spock up by touch alone. The way Spock saw him, felt him, smelled his sweat and sex--- all of it pulsed and dripped like wax down the bond into his mind. His fingers in Spock sparked with latent psi-energy, now made tangible through their bonding, lighting him up from the inside. Then Spock brought his hand up to Kirk’s face, sliding over his cheekbones and settling onto his psi-points. They slipped into the meld.

His body continued to move on autopilot. He settled between Spock’s thighs and pulled him into his lap. Spock groped at his shoulders and bit his neck as he slid into him, but all of his attention was within. He no longer had any concept of controlling or directing his own thoughts; the bond and Kirk’s mind were flooded with Spock. Spock slid into his mind. Spock pressed him open, the sheer overwhelming depth of his regard and his arousal dripping and licking into every fold and crevice. He could see himself the way Spock saw him: he could see shades that Kirk’s human eyes never could have distinguished. In Spock’s vision, he glowed a thousand shades of gold. 

Kirk laced his fingers through Spock’s, pinning his hands down against the mattress, and buried his face in his neck with his eyes closed. He listened to Spock’s sharp little gasps and let Spock’s mind push into his, tonguing him open, laving his love, his thoughts, his lust over everything he was. The bond drew them tighter and tighter, swelling with the energy that poured between them, vibrating until it was singing one clear note between them--- 

When they came, they came together, and the bond erupted into glimmering shards of light. 

☆☆☆

When he awoke the next morning, Kirk’s padd had a notice on it from the Enterprise .

By order of Dr. Leonard McCoy, chief medical officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise, Captain James Kirk is authorized to return to duty, with no restrictions, effective start of next Alpha shift. 

His jag of bright sharp happiness startled Spock out of sleep, who turned to him immediately, reaching for him across the bed. “Jim?” 

Kirk flopped backwards onto the pillows and tossed his padd out of reach before rolling over Spock, straddling his hips and pressing his forehead to his. Spock skimmed his hands over his back and ass, his question floating over the bond and through his skin. 

Kirk said, “Let’s go home.”

☆☆☆

Kirk and Spock prepared lunch in the kitchen of the main house before the survivors arrived. They would spend a few hours together before they scattered back to the far corners of the galaxy; Tommy and Martha to their university, Mira and Ellie to their school, and Kirk and Kevin back to the Enterprise . After they’d all arrived and eaten together, Spock extended a gracious hand in front of him and said to Martha, “Would you care to see my mother’s garden? She has encouraged many non-native plants to flourish here.” 

“Yes! I meant to ask you about Vulcan pollinators last night,” Martha said immediately, and smoothed a hand over Tommy’s hair as she passed him and followed Spock outside. The door shut quietly behind them, leaving the survivors seated around the island. It struck Kirk that, without his noticing, he and his kids had sat around a table to share a meal for the first time since Farm School. He and Tommy had both found partners with whom they could share what they had endured, Kevin had carefully eaten nearly an entire plate with only one preliminary flinch, and with every moment spent in their company Ellie became a little less private. She was still reserved--- she and Mira had always had different temperaments--- but she shared more of her own interests, rather than letting Mira talk for both of them. Kirk learned that Martha and Tommy wanted children, that Ellie had a partner but Mira was uninterested in romance, that Kevin was the number one scorer across all of Starfleet on a popular holo-vid game. With every detail that he learned about them, their hollowed-out, desolate faces in his memory were replaced with them as they were now: scarred but alive, so alive. Even if they did not stay in contact any longer now that the trial was over, seeing them was a gift to him. 

The survivors stayed for three hours, talking over their empty plates. Martha and Spock eventually rejoined them with Martha’s promise to send along her research on artificial pollination for transplanted flowers, and Kirk spent his afternoon drinking in the pleasure of their company. His kids, his friends--- he had asked for help and they had risen to the challenge with a grace he had never predicted. 

Their time was winding down when Tommy said quietly, “I’ve been thinking about something since we got here.” All attention turned to him. He released his mask from the side of his head and rubbed the damaged skin self-consciously before resealing it. “I want to find Laika’s parents, and Madeleine and Natalya’s if possible, and tell them the truth.” Martha’s hand found Tommy’s under the table. For a second there was silence around the table as they remembered their fallen friend, the empty sixth chair, who had only tried to preserve their meager water supply and had died for it. They remembered the adults who had tried to save them.

“Yes,” Mira said, voice firm, and Ellie nodded. “They should know.” 

“Madeleine and Natalya were Starfleet,” Kirk said, and looked at Spock and Kevin. “Their emergency contacts might still be listed in their cadet files.”

“One of my professors from the Academy had been on the Valiant ,” Kevin offered. “She might know something useful, too.”

Tommy grinned lopsidedly across the table at Kirk, and Kirk grinned back. 

Kirk and Spock stood on the long, low front porch as the rest of the survivors called for aircars to take them to other transport or commed the Enterprise to be beamed back up. When it was time for each to go, Kirk pulled them in for a hug.

“Thank you,” he told each one, and each time he received a variation on a theme: I’m so glad you asked. I’m so glad you reached out. I’m happy that I could help you. Thank you for bringing us back together.  

Then it was only him and Spock standing in the late-afternoon sun, and Spock asked, “Will you remain in contact with them now?” 

“God, I hope so,” Kirk said. “Maybe I’ll let them all get home and settled before reaching back out again, though.” 

Then his padd dinged. He pulled it from his pocket. 

You have been invited to a group message by Mira Alcanzar: FARM SCHOOL FAMILY. Accept invitation? [YES / NO]

☆☆☆

Amanda and Spock prepared a special dinner for their last night on Vulcan: a wildly illogical smorgasbord of the foods that Kirk had enjoyed most during his time there. Breakfast breads rested alongside the vegetable wrap that he had eaten every day for lunch for three weeks in a row after first being introduced to it. There was a lot of soy; Vulcans had figured out ways to prepare tofu that even centuries of Earth vegans hadn’t attempted. Sarek, home earlier than usual from the embassy, joined them, and though dinner was quieter for his presence it was not tense or unpleasant.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Amanda assured them after they all cleared away the plates, either stored or recycled what hadn’t been eaten, and Sarek had vanished into his office. “But the house will feel so strange once you’ve gone back.” 

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. For us,” Kirk said to her. He dried the dishes that she had deemed too delicate for the sonic and replaced them in their proper places. She handed him the last glass and leaned her hip against the counter, turning to look at him. 

“Logic does not need to be thanked, Jim,” she said. Then she laid her hand on his arm. “And neither does family.” His throat tightened at the unexpected words. She smiled as he struggled with his composure and turned to the kitchen at large, where Spock wiped down the table. 

“I hope you come visit when you’re able,” she said. “I hope it’s not another twenty years before we get Spock back here.” 

“I’ll see what I can do, ma’am. But if you could send me a list of anything that would qualify me for clan protection again, I might be able to speed up the process.” He and Amanda laughed as Spock raised an incredulous eyebrow at him, and then they bid her goodnight. 

They were halfway across the garden to the guesthouse when a deep voice called, “ Sa-fu. ” Spock straightened immediately and turned over his shoulder. Kirk turned with him as a spark of surprise flickered down the bond. Sarek stood by the back door, illuminated by the light of the main house; it swirled over the waves of his hair and caught in his robes. 

“ Sa-mekh,” Spock said, and Kirk felt the twinge of question and confusion in Spock’s mind. When was the last time he had called his father by that word, instead of his name? Had it been before that last catastrophic fight, before Spock joined Starfleet?

Sarek hesitated for a moment, before he crossed to them. For a moment he looked at his son, and his son at him. Then Sarek extended something between them. Spock took it and held it up in the light: it was a wrapped packet of coiled ka'athyra strings.

“Your playing has improved since your youth,” Sarek said. “But it appears that the strings on your instrument have not been replaced.” 

“ Ka’athyra strings are rarely sold off of Vulcan, and therefore difficult to acquire while on mission,” Spock said, and gently turned the packet in his hands. He looked at his father. 

“Then it would be prudent for you to return in order to purchase them more regularly,” Sarek said. He looked at his son, and though his face remained still, something in his eyes softened. He drew himself up and said, in the measured tones of the perfectly logical, “Your mother would like it.” He stepped backwards, as if to distance himself from what he had said, and instead raised the ta’al . “I travel early in the morning for a meeting, so I will not see you before you depart. Live long and prosper, Spock. Captain Kirk.” 

Spock and Kirk both raised the ta’al . “Live long and prosper, Father,” Spock said, and Sarek nodded once before turning and sweeping back into the house. Spock looked down at the strings in his hand before looking at Kirk with something close to abject shock bouncing over the bond. Kirk ran his hand over Spock’s back, leaning into him for a moment, and they continued back to the guesthouse to pack.

Before Kirk fell asleep that night, he sent a message. 

Dear Mom and Dad, 

I hope you’re both doing well. How is the U.S.S. Sausalito? Are you headed anywhere new? 

I wanted to let you know that I’m married now--- to my first officer, S’chn T’gai Spock of Vulcan. We were bonded on Vulcan while we were on-planet for leave. If we ever cross paths, I’d love to introduce him to you. He’s great. I think Dad would like him a lot. 

I also wanted to talk to you about something else. I’m not sure if you heard, but there was a court-martial recently--- I was cleared, but the trial brought up a lot of evidence about what happened when I was a kid. If you’re up for it, I’d like to talk to you about it. If you’re not, that’s fine. But the offer stands. 

Anyway, that’s all. Safe travels. 

Your son,

Jim

He closed his padd and dropped it onto the bedside table before rolling to wrap himself around Spock’s back. Part of him wanted to refresh his messages over and over until the battery died. Part of him hoped that his parents never responded. But he had done his part; the only thing he had control over was whether or not he had sent the comm. 

They might respond and refuse to acknowledge that anything had changed, or refuse to talk about Tarsus at all. They might prefer to stay estranged and leave themselves at arm’s distance. But Kirk had reached out. He would leave that hand extended, because that was what he did: he would rather reach out and fail than never try and wonder forever.

In the end, he thought, what his parents decided to do now wouldn’t really matter. He knew that, either way, he would be okay.

☆☆☆

The next morning, Kirk pulled his uniform down off the hanger in the closet for the first time in four months. He held it in his hands, letting it slide through his fingers to the bed, before stripping off his sleep clothes and stepping into them. He sensed Spock’s approach before the door opened, and when Spock entered from the bathroom in his science blues, Kirk turned with his hands outstretched and said, “How do I look?” 

Spock scanned him from head to toe and back again, and though his face did not change Kirk could feel him through the bond: pride and appreciation, a flicker of arousal that Kirk noted with curiosity and tucked away to consider in detail later, and his love. 

“Ready for duty, sir,” Spock said, and bent to kiss him. 

They met Amanda in the backyard with their bags. She was dressed to leave for her own work, hair wrapped carefully to prevent it being tossed in the day’s high winds, and unclasped her hands from in front of herself as they appeared. Kirk accepted a hug and Spock raised the ta’al .

“Please let us know how you’re doing every once in a while,” Amanda said to Kirk, eyes twinkling at them both. “Us human mothers do appreciate a sign of life.” 

“I’ll make it happen, ma’am,” Kirk said, grinning. Then, with a lurch of joy and apprehension, he flipped open his comm. “Captain Kirk to Lieutenant Commander Scott.” 

“Scotty here,” a welcome voice called back. “On standby for transport, sir.” 

“Thank you again, Amanda,” Kirk said, and Amanda smiled warmly. 

“You’re always welcome here, Jim,” she said. Then her focus turned to her son. “I love you, sa-fu. ” Spock inclined his head, and as Kirk gave Scotty the word and the transporter grabbed them, the bond twanged with gratitude and warmth and something that felt like daring. 

“And I you, ko-mekh ,” Spock said. Before the transporter whirled them away, they got one good look at the expression on Amanda Grayson’s face as she registered what Spock had said. It was beautiful. 

Kirk and Spock materialized on the starship Enterprise for the first time in four months, and it immediately felt like home again. Kirk closed his eyes, still standing on the transporter pad with his bag over his shoulder, and listened to the music of his ship: the constant low roar of life support and aircon, the beeps and whirrs of panels and machinery fans, footsteps in the hallway and the voices of his crew, and one Montgomery Scott at the transporter control panel calling, “Good to have you back, captain!” 

“Ah, Scotty,” Kirk said, and grinned broadly. “There’s no place like home.” They stepped out of the transporter room and were immediately overwhelmed by a chorus of “welcome back!” and “good to see you!” from the crew passing through the halls. Tired engineers leaving the bay after Gamma shift passed bright-eyed Alpha scientists headed down to the science decks early--- the scientists did double-takes at Spock’s reappearance, raising the Vulcan salute and squeaking their hellos before darting down to the labs. Kirk bounced on the balls of his feet, drinking it all in. He had been returned to his ship, rested and repaired and more grateful than he had ever been in his life for the crew that had held space for him while he was away. He wanted to wrap his arms around the entirety of the ship and hold it close to him.

Spock pulled Kirk’s duffel bag off his shoulder and placed it onto his own. “I will return our possessions to our quarters and meet you on the bridge,” he said. Amusement and affection pulsed over the bond, spilling into his mind, as Spock thought, Go. I’ll see you in a moment. Kirk grinned at him, quietly pressing two fingers to Spock’s, and slipped with Scotty into the crowd. 

He had thirty minutes before the start of Alpha shift, and he intended to make them count. He started by following Scotty down to Engineering to say hello to the engineers before shifting upward to the labs. He waved to Dr. Khan and Spock’s scientists, many of whom giggled and waved at the return of his formerly unexplained presence in the lab. He stuck his head in the crew mess to shout hello and grab a coffee, did the same in the officers’ mess, popped into the gym and Giotto’s office, and rode the turbolift just to hear the whooshing of it. He climbed a Jeffries tube and scared the living daylights out of an unprepared ensign when he swung out of it. He eventually found himself on the D deck: the longest strip of uninterrupted corridor on the ship, dead in the center and reaching from fore to aft. He didn’t see a single other person in the hallway; it didn’t have a formal use, and mostly served as a conduit to other places. 

He raised his hands high above his head, stretching and breathing in the slightly stale tang of recycled air. The oxygen level on the ship was higher than that of Vulcan, and he was high on the difference. He would miss Vulcan. He would miss the guesthouse and Amanda’s kitchen and the purple tile of Rowan’s ceiling. But the Enterprise was his home; this was where he belonged. He bounced on the balls of his feet and relished the feel of his uniform against his skin and the comfortable tread of his work boots against the floor. Then, completely alone, unwatched, and free, he ran the entire length of his beloved ship, laughing like a kid.

Kirk arrived on the bridge thirty seconds before the start of Alpha shift. The turbolift door whooshed open, and it was like the past four months had never happened: Uhura at the communications console, Sulu and Chekov bickering at the front, Spock standing at parade rest by the sensors, already looking at the turbolift when Kirk arrived. Chris wheeled his chair around as a rush of warmth engulfed Kirk: welcome backs and hellos, and Spock’s pleased pride and comfort humming in the back of his mind.

 “Welcome back, Captain Kirk,” Chris said. 

“Thank you, Admiral,” Kirk said, and grinned. “I relieve you, sir.” 

“I am relieved,” Chris said, and for a moment it crystallized between them: that unique love that a captain had for the ship they commanded, and their appreciation for the ship and the crew that they loved in common. Then Chris backed out of the chair-stall and Kirk strode down the steps to it. He flipped the seat back down and, after all his time away, sat back into it. 

He leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. It felt a little different, after the alterations that Scotty had made for Chris’s chair. But he was different, as well, so that was alright. 

“Your orders are to escort me, Morrow, and Drake back to Earth,” Chris said. “Then you’ll head back out to the black.” His eyes flicked to a padd that Kirk hadn’t noticed, resting on the arm of the chair. “That came this morning.” Kirk sat forward and flicked it open to read as Chris made his farewells to the rest of the bridge crew and steered himself into the turbolift. 

HIGH PRIORITY 

CONFIDENTIAL 

Captain Kirk, 

It’s been a productive few days for us, but it seems like every time we learn something concrete, it sends us down another rabbit hole of secrets. My prediction of a few months of work may have been premature. We’re not waiting for the investigation to be done, though, before we start rectifying some of the more egregious violations. Please see attached an assignment for after you return the admirals to Headquarters. If you find it more painful than helpful, let me know, but I’ve decided that you and Lieutenant Riley get the right of first refusal on this one.

Two other updates for you: first, Admiral April is remaining on Vulcan for the time being so that he can work with the VSA to repair the damage done by the neutralizer. Though communication is complicated on that front at the moment, he has indicated that he intends to remain embedded with my team until the work is done. 

I did tell him what I was going to offer to you, and he said, and I quote, to “call it a belated wedding gift.” 

Second: Janice says hello. Thank you again for signing her transfer - she has been invaluable already. 

Reach out if you refuse the mission or if there are any complications. If not, report the outcome back to me once completed. 

Best,

LC Lee

Kirk tapped on the bond to get Spock’s attention as he re-read Lee’s note. His attention snagged on the phrase ‘right of first refusal’ as Spock left his sensors to stand at his shoulder and read the padd in his hand. 

Any guesses?

None that I am willing to put forth. 

Kirk tapped to the next page and pulled up the mission itself. Across the top was branded FOR EXTRADITION: CRIMES AGAINST SENTIENT LIFE. 

Then beneath that was LAST KNOWN ALIAS: ANTON KARIDIAN. 

Anton Karidian was a man who seemingly sprang to life eighteen years previously solely to perform as an actor on various far-flung planets. Beneath the brief dossiere of information known about him was the formal assignment signed by both Lee and April: This alias may be used by the man formerly known as Governor Kodos of Tarsus IV. Investigate, confirm, and if confirmed, capture alive and return to Earth for trial and sentencing.  

“My god,” Kirk said quietly, and covered his mouth with one hand. He scanned the information again: it wasn’t much, but it had come from April and Lee. Shock from him and comfort from Spock filled the bond in equal measure. A small part of him wailed in distress at the thought of facing the man who had killed his friends and destroyed Farm School. But there was a larger, louder, stronger part of him that called for justice. 

He had already faced Elise and found justice for himself and his friends; here was an opportunity to do the same on a much larger scale. He thought about the eight thousand people that had died on Tarsus: his friends and his teachers and an enormous list of people that he had never met and would never know. They deserved accountability from the Federation; they deserved for their stories to be told. He turned his eyes to the viewscreen ahead of him. Below them was Vulcan, and ahead were the stars, so many little pinholes of light in a black velvet sky. But closer to him were his beloved bridge crew, his friends and his family, and they were prepared to follow him wherever he chose to lead them. 

He looked down at the data sheet about Karidian. The troupe that he led was making its way through the Alpha quadrant; they could drop the admirals off on Earth and then continue on an intercept path to meet them before they got to Planet Q, where Tommy and Martha lived. He closed the padd. He would talk to Kevin before formally accepting, but he thought he had an idea about what Kevin might say about it. The Enterprise would take the mission, and he would tell his crew what their goals were when they were closer. He might tell the bridge crew why they had been assigned this mission, this man; he might even tell a select handful what he felt about it. 

Kirk might find an unlucky stranger, or he might find the man who had walked through his nightmares. But he wouldn’t do it alone. 

“Mr. Chekov, plot a course to Earth. Mr. Sulu, prepare for warp three,” Kirk said, and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his legs again. Behind him, Uhura called the Vulcan interstellar transportation authority to clear their exit, and his helmsman and his navigator in front of him ran through their checks together as they prepared for their departure. 

His science officer, his husband, his bondmate stood quietly at his side, and rested one hand on his shoulder before returning to his sensors and scanners. Even when the touch of his hand had dropped away, Kirk felt Spock’s attention through the bond: partially on his console, partially humming at the presence of Kirk’s mind nearby. He would need to learn to shield, at some point, or risk distracting Spock every time he looked over and saw him bent over the scanners just so. But they would have time enough for that; in the meanwhile, he was enjoying the constant comforting hum of Spock’s ever-churning mind in the back of his own.

“Course locked, captain,” Chekov said. 

“Ready for warp, captain,” Sulu said. 

“Impulse power until we’re out of Vulcan’s range, Mr. Sulu. Then take us away,” Kirk said. The ship hummed and beeped and sang around him as his orders were followed, and he watched the stars shift through the viewscreen ahead until the ship leapt to warp and they smeared into blurry streaks of light. 

Ad astra per amorem; and onward.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Martha and Tommy's first child, a daughter, is named Natalya. Giotto and his wife Miriam get to buy their house in Cairo, where they make up for the time they didn’t have. Janice and Kathleen Lee, along with Admiral April, have their work cut out for them. It’s ugly, and Elise does not let go without a fight--- but when it’s over, Lee will ask Janice to marry her. Sulu and Dr. Khan had a great time working together. When Sulu is offered his own command down the line, he takes her with him as his science officer. And Kirk and Spock, of course, live happily ever after.

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 6

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: Dr. Jenner shares his views of the world with the group, and they find it imperative not only to disagree, but to escape. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; descriptions of explosion, violence, threat of violence, suicide, entrapment, ethical arguments

Chapter 6 - Time Runs Out

“The basement generators— they run out of fuel.” Jenner replied simply.

“And then?” Rick asked, dejected. Jenner didn’t answer, making for the doorway. “Vi, what happens when the power runs out?”

“When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur.” 

“No thanks. I’m not interested.” Iris stated, glancing around at her companions. “I’m going to find the generators.”

“Let’s go.” Rick agreed. Iris followed a map left on the hallway wall, Rick, Shane, T-Dog and Glenn following down further and deeper underground.

“Decontamination? What does that mean?” Glenn asked worriedly.

“I don’t like the way Jenner clammed up.” Shane grumbled. “The way he just wandered off like that?”

“I had a bad feeling about this place.” Iris muttered.

“What’s wrong with him? Seriously, man, is he nuts? Medicated, what?” T-Dog asked.

“He’s not crazy. He’s just given up.” Iris replied, shoving open a heavy metal door. Shane and Rick held up their flashlights before the motion sensors flicked on the overhead lights. The room was filled with drums of fuel, haphazardly left on carts, likely from when Jenner set them up.

Shane and Rick went to one side while Iris, Glenn and T-Dog went the other direction. Pipes, wires and electrical panels filled the room, large stickers warning that it was all flammable.

“You know what it reminds me of?” Iris muttered, brushing her hand over a wire panel.

“What?” Glenn asked.

“A time bomb.” She replied simply. He and T-Dog exchanged a look as they explored. The lights went out, save for a few small bulbs against the walls.

“Emergency lighting on.”

“What the hell?” Shane’s voice carried. They ran to meet each other, finding Rick and Shane next to a fuel barrel hooked up to the generator.

“It’s preparing to shut down.” Iris grimaced. “Power conservation.”

“Anything?” Rick asked.

“Yeah. A lot of dead generators and more empty fuel drums than I can count.” T-Dog replied.

“Rick, look, I don’t think we should waste any more time. We should get out while we still can.” Iris said quietly, looking between him and Shane. They glanced at one another.

“It can’t be down to just this one.” Shane muttered, shining the light on the empty fuel dial. 

“We have 45 minutes.” Iris stated, checking her watch. “Rick—“

“Let’s go.” He agreed. They all raced back upstairs, sprinting down the hallways.

Everyone poked their heads out of their rooms at the sudden shut down and Jenner walked down the hallway, wearing a suit and a lab coat. He gripped a whiskey bottle tightly in his fist. Daryl’s voice carried as he chewed out the doctor, everyone waiting for some sort of explanation. Desperate for him to deny what they were all thinking.

“Rick?” Lori called as they ran into the main room. Jenner walked down the stairs and the group followed.

“Jenner, what’s happening?” Rick pleaded, gesturing for the group to stay put.

“The system is dropping all the nonessential uses of power.” He explained. “It’s designed to keep the computers running until the last possible second. That started as we approached the half-hour mark. Right on schedule.” He took a large swig of whiskey.

“Okay, you all need to grab your things. Pack. We have to go.” Iris whispered, urging them back to the stairs.

“What? What are you talking about?” Carol asked, frowning.

“You heard her. Come on, let’s move.” Shane urged. Jenner turned, offering the whiskey back to Daryl, who snatched it from his hands.

“It was the French.” Jenner mused.

“What?”

“They were the last ones to hold out, as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs until the end.” He explained. “They thought they were close to a solution.”

“What happened?” Jacqui asked.

“The same thing that’s happening here. No power grid. Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel. I mean, how stupid is that?” He laughed.

“Let me tell you—“ Shane jumped up, lunging at him.

“To hell with it, Shane. I don’t even care.” Rick snapped. “Lori, grab our things. Everyone, get your stuff. We’re getting out of here, now!” They finally lurched into action, ducking down the hallways in a hurry. Everyone stopped as a loud alarm blared over the speakers.

“What the hell is that?” Iris hissed.

“Thirty minutes to decontamination.”

“Doc, what’s going on here, man?” T-Dog pleaded.

“Everyone! Y’all heard Rick, y’all heard Iris, now you’re hearing me. Get your stuff and let’s go! Go now! Go!” Shane yelled. The door to the room slid shut with a pressurized hiss and Iris drew her knife on the scientist.

“Did you just lock us in? He just locked us in!” Glenn cried.

“Open the fucking door.” She warned, holding the blade to his neck. He shook his head, turning on one of the terminals with a webcam.

“We’ve hit the 30-minute window. I am recording—“

“You son of a bitch! You locked us in here!” Daryl screamed, lunging at him. Shane and T-Dog tore him away.

“Unlock the door. Please.” Iris begged.

“There’s no point. Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed.”

“Well, open the damn things!” Daryl snapped.

“That’s not something I control, the computers do.” Jenner shook his head again. “I told you. Once that front door closed, it wouldn’t open again. You heard me say that.”

“You son of a bitch.” Iris muttered, sheathing her knife. 

“It’s better this way.” He insisted.

“What is?” Rick asked, tilting his head with a snarl. “What happens in twenty-eight minutes?” Jenner refused to answer, turning back to the computer. “What happens in twenty-eight minutes?”

“You know what this place is?” Jenner cried, standing abruptly. “We protected the public from very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don’t want getting out! Ever!” He paused, wiping a hand over his face and sitting back down. “In the event of a catastrophic power failure, a terrorist attack, for example, H.I.T.s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out.”

“H.I.T.s?” Rick asked.

“Vi, define.”

“H.I.T.s, high-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen between five thousand and six thousand degrees and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired.”

“It sets the air on fire.” Jenner stated. “No pain. An end to sorrow, grief, regret, everything.”

“You’ve condemned us.” Iris muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “You want me to speak in your language, you depressed, philosophical bullshit motherfucker? You’ve condemned us. Obliterated any chance we might have had. Any hope left. Hell won’t suffice for this act of murder. Of damnation.” Jenner huffed a laugh, nodding. Daryl cried out in frustration, chucking the whiskey bottle at the steel barrier.

“Open the damn door!” He yelled.

“Out of my way!” Shane cried, running at the door with an axe intended for emergency escape in the event of a fire. Not this. T-Dog tossed another up at Daryl, the two of them striking the door with brute force. Sparks rained as they pounded against the door. The children were crying into their mother’s chests, huddled against the wall as they waited for the clock to count down. Iris shoved a hand into her pocket, pulling out the tattered patch she kept there, running her fingers over it.

“You should have left well enough alone. It would have been so much easier.” Jenner muttered to himself as he sat at the desk. Dale walked over to him. If anyone could appeal to someone’s better nature, it would be him.

“Easier for who?” Lori asked.

“All of you. You know what’s out there. A short, brutal life and an agonizing death. Your- your sister. What was her name?” Jenner asked Andrea.

“Amy.”

“Amy. You know what this does. You’ve seen it.” He turned to Rick. “Is that really what you want for your wife and son?”

“I don’t want this.” Rick replied emphatically.

“Can’t make a dent.” Shane huffed, tossing the axe to the side. Jenner rolled his eyes.

“Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher.” He stated.

“Well your head ain’t!” Daryl screamed, throwing himself at the doctor with the axe. Dale, Rick and Shane shoved themselves between them, keeping Daryl back. The doctor didn’t even flinch from his seat.

“You do want this.” He told Rick. “Last night you said you knew it was just a matter of time before everybody you loved was dead.” They all stopped, everyone going silent.

“What, you really said that? After all your big talk?” Shane asked, narrowing his eyes at Rick.

“I feel as if we all are not prioritizing, here.” Iris threw her hands up.

“I had to keep hope alive, didn’t I?” Rick defended.

“There is no hope. There never was.” Jenner said pointedly.

“There’s always hope.” Rick snapped. “Maybe it won’t be you, maybe not here, but somebody. Somewhere.”

“What part of 'everything is gone’ do you not understand?” Andrea asked.

“Listen to your friend.” Jenner implored. “She gets it. This is what takes us down. This is our extinction event.”

“Just because you sorry assholes have given up doesn’t give you the right to take that choice away from someone else.” Iris snapped. “From all of us.”

“This isn’t right.” Carol sobbed. “You can’t just keep us here!”

“One, tiny moment.” Jenner shook his head. “A millisecond. No pain.”

“My daughter doesn’t deserve to die like this!” Carol cried.

“Wouldn’t it be kinder? More compassionate to just hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?” Jenner asked. Dale gaped at him. Shane cocked his shotgun, moving toward the doctor.

“Shane, no!”

“Out of the way, Rick!” He aimed the shotgun between Jenner’s eyes. “Open that door. Or I’m gonna blow your head off, do you hear me?”

“Not much of a threat when he’s waiting to die.” Iris muttered, moving to the control panel he punched the numbers into. Some code would unlock the door. All he had to do was tell them the numbers. Shane yelled in frustration, unloading the shotgun into a few terminals and the lights in the ceiling. Everyone ducked while Rick pried the gun from his hands, knocking him to the floor.

“Are you done now? Are you done?”

“Yeah, I guess we all are.” Shane hissed. There was a long silence while everyone listened to the quiet thrumming of the generator. 

“I think you’re lying.” Rick accused.

“What?” Jenner asked, narrowing his eyes.

“About no hope. If that were true, you’d have bolted with the rest or taken the easy way out. You didn’t. You chose the hard path, why?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. It always matters. You stayed when others ran. Why?”

“Not because I wanted to.” Jenner said firmly. “I made a promise to her. My wife.” He said, pointing to the screen.

“Test Subject 19 was your wife?” Lori asked, mouth opening in shock. Daryl walked back to the door and started hitting it with the axe again. The loud thuds echoing through the room ominously.

“She begged me to keep going as long as I could. How could I say no?” He continued. “She was dying. It should have been me on that table. I wouldn’t have mattered to anybody. She was a loss to the world. Hell, she ran this place. I just worked here. In our field, she was an Einstein. Me, I’m just… Edwin Jenner. She could have done something about this. Not me.”

“Your wife didn’t have a choice.” Rick said slowly. “You do. That’s… that’s all we want. A choice. A chance.”

“Let us keep trying as long as we can.” Lori pleaded, clutching Carl close. Jenner sighed.

“I told you, topside’s locked down. I can’t open those.” He walked over to the keypad, meeting Iris’ gaze as he typed the code in, scanning his card. The steel blast door slid open and Daryl dropped the axe.

“Come on!” He yelled. Four minutes and thirty seconds.

“Let’s go! Come on, let’s go!” Glenn yelled.

“Move it! Move it!”

“There’s your chance. Take it.” Jenner said.

“I’m grateful.” Rick replied.

“The day will come when you won’t be.” He looked at Rick sympathetically, with pity, but Iris felt nothing but disdain for the man. She brushed past him as she sprinted for the door.

“Let’s go. Let’s go, Jacqui.” T-Dog ushered her toward to door.

“No, I’m staying. I’m staying, sweetie.”

“That’s insane!”

“No, it’s completely sane. For the first time in a long time. I’m not ending up like Jim and Amy. There’s no time to argue. And no point, not if you want to get out. Just get out. Get out.” She pleaded, putting her hands on either side of his face. 

“I’m staying too.” Andrea said solemnly.

“Andrea, no!” Dale called. She turned away, sitting down and waiting. “Just go, go!” He stayed behind in hopes of convincing her, but Iris was unsure. Dale would be a loss to the group, but since Amy, Andrea didn’t seem like she had much left.

Iris kept her grip on her emotions as they ran up the stairwell. She had everything important on her person as they threw themselves into the doors. Daryl and Shane attacked the windows with the axes. T-Dog grabbed a chair. Shane even tried the shotgun, but the glass held.

“Rick, I have something that might help.” Carol called, fishing in her purse.

“Carol, I don’t think a nail file’s gonna do it.” Shane grumbled.

“Your first morning at camp, when I washed your uniform, I found this in your pocket.” She explained. She pulled out a hand grenade and Iris’ eyes went wide.

“Holy shit.” She muttered.

“Look out!” T-Dog yelled as Rick grabbed the grenade. They all took cover as he pulled the pin, released the trigger and ran. It exploded, the single pane of glass shattering with the impact. 

They all ducked out of the window, sprinting across the courtyard toward the caravan of vehicles. Everything was still there, including the walkers littering the lawn. They didn’t bother with the noise, using their guns to take care of any in their way. Iris practically dove into the truck beside Daryl as he chucked the axe into the back. They turned forward only to see Andrea and Dale running out of the building at the last moment.

There was a breath of silence before the explosion wracked their bodies. Daryl and Iris ducked below the dashboard. It was the loudest thing Iris had ever heard, the wave of head blowing outward across the courtyard, the roads. The building crumpled like paper, the entire thing falling inward on itself and deep underground. There was rubble and debris of course, and fire. But nothing was left. Daryl blew out a breath as the flames loomed ahead of them, the air burning just like Jenner explained.

Iris huffed, panting as she leaned her forehead on the dashboard. Daryl shook his head as he put the truck into gear and followed the RV, the van, the Jeep and Carol’s station wagon down the road.

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[daisiescomelate]

Cellar

Prompt: villain!ReaderxAizawa. Reader is a prisoner of Tartarus. Aizawa needs Reader’s help solving an ongoing crime.

masterlist

“You have visitors.” The guard’s voice made you jump from your place at the corner of the cell –a small room of white walls, ten steps wide and twelve steps in length counting the space that took the metal bed. You put down the pen and paper you were fidgeting with and looked straight at the narrow horizontal slit close to the top of the barricaded door.

“What do you mean visitors?” You asked in a condescending tone. Who on Earth can be out there coming all the way to Tartarus for a visit? Your family was never that dedicated and most of your friends wouldn’t step on this place for dear life.

“What I just said. Now get up, we have to move you to the next quarters.”

You racked your brain, thinking about who this one person might be. It was useless to ask anything to the guard, they either didn’t have the information or would never give it willingly.

“Step back.” He said, and you sat up from your place at the end of the mattress and walked to the wall opposite to the door. You stayed there with both arms raised up to show that you were empty handed.

“Don’t try anything funny.” The guard warned before you could hear the cling of keys and the sound of admission followed by the heavy noise of the door unlocking.

The guard pulled the door open and gave a step back, one hand over his weapon in his waist. You stepped out of your cell and were signaled to stop. The first guard motioned to the side where two other guards held open a white shirt with long sleeves and leather straps. A strait-jacket.

“Put it on.” The guard ordered and you complied –not that you had the chance to say ‘no’.

Guards number two and three wrapped the sleeves around you, crossing your arm at the front of your chest and tying the end of the sleeves to the back of the jacket. The effect was claustrophobic.

Once they had you restrained, guard number one pushed you from behind with one hand to order you to walk down the hall. You almost tripped, and resisted the urge to send them a poisonous look over your shoulder.

The halls of Tartarus were covered in steel, in all walls, floor and ceiling. The metal of the corridors seemed to suck all the lights of the bulbs, a dark hole at the end of every hallway. Without the need of a trained eye, one could see the lasers of the ever present sensor and cameras in every corner above.

In the distance you could hear the cacophony of voices of those that conversed with their neighbour. Most ended up reaching out to the cells near and the people inside of them to avoid losing their minds.

One of the cellmates screamed to ask where they were taking you, another screamed to curse at the guards, but mostly they stayed quiet when they saw you passed, escorted by your three new friends.

You saw a few of them taking a sneak peek at the hall through the slit on their doors.

They didn’t worry you. Yes, Tartarus was a prison made for those who the system labeled as a high security risk and who pose a serious threat to both national and international security. However, even inside the premises the prisoners were distributed according to their crimes. Ones, such as yourself, were in the outer rings of the ground floor of the prison, still heavily guarded but nothing like the deps of the prison.

Like the seven rings of hell, one would have to be… extremely careful with what they could find at the very center of it, five hundred meters below sea level.

You shook your head, placing the thought of those other prisoners in the back of your head. It wasn’t thrilling to think about what other things you were trapped in with inside this metal tumb in the middle of the ocean.

“Move.” The guard behind you ordered and pushed you to keep going forward, making you trip with your toes. You held back a curse on the tip of your tongue and picked up your pace.

You walked all the way to the common area and the next block, to fall into a section of the prison you hadn’t seen since the last visit of your lawyer almost a year and a half ago. The guards seemed to have deemed it funny to push you again every few steps or every time your pace seemed to linger for a fraction of a second.

After you passed the living areas flooded by inmates, the halls became painfully quiet and the sound of your steps over the metal floors echoed heavily with the sounds of the iron boots of the guards.

With every push to your back you felt the constraints more and more with the wish of being able to turn around and give back to the idiot behind you.

Finally, the guard signaled you to stop in front of a double door and walked to be in front of you. He picked up a card from his belt and slid it through a sensor, to then press his right palm over a small screen to the side. The door bipped in acknowledgment and a small red light turned green.

“Get in.” Guard number two order, getting a voice of his own.

You entered the visitors room. It was just as you remembered it. Small, with white tile on the walls and marble-like floors. In the middle of it there was a big dark metal chair in front of a glass panel, and to the side there was what you guess should be a two-way mirror, replicating your image on one side but see through on the other opposite to you.

Number Three held you by the shoulder moving you forwards while Number Two pushed you downwards so you’ll sit on the chair. They both work on the leader straps that would tie you to the chair while Number One waited for them at the door.

Once you were in place, both guards left the room and you heard the metal door locking behind your back and the rustling of those people stepping away.

Then, quiet.

You tested the strength of the jacket again to find no improvement. The wait was long, maybe too long. The jacket became itchy and your muscles sore. You moved your neck around in an attempt to get rid of some of the pain. You used the dead time to wander about who this secret visitor might be. Other than your lawyer, there was no one who had set a foot in this place just to see you, but your lawyer would have contacted you beforehand.

The wait stretched to what felt for –tortuously boring– hours, to the point you were about to start smashing your head against the back of the metal chair just to do something.

Finally, the door at the other side of the glass opened.

The image of the person on the other side wasn’t clear at first. The person seemed to be entertaining themselves with a conversation with someone behind the door, yet the microphone that connected both rooms was off so you couldn’t hear what they were discussing.

A moment later, the person entered the room carrying a folder with a stack of papers inside in one hand. Tall and haggard, dressed in all black clothes and a ragged scarf with messy hair that passed his shoulders and a two or three days beard, looking like the world had naked him in the face relentlessly since that very morning.

He sat in front of you in the middle of the room on the other side, letting the folder rest on top of his lap. 

You stared, because what else were for you to do?

Then a flicker of noise let you know that the microphone had been turned on. You waited.

“I’ll go straight to the point,” said the man, “The band you were a part of, one of the members you used to work with started working for an organization that calls themselves ‘the league of villains.’” He used both hands to grab the folder and slid away one of the sheets of paper from within. He held a picture towards you and you recognized the person immediately: blond hair, big teeth, small frame.

“We need to know where to find this person,” the man continued, “what are his habits, who is he friends with.” He lowered the picture and looked straight into the eyes, “Every member of your former group is either in prison for robbery or dead by now, except for him. This person,” he said motioning to the folder in his lap, “has been out of the map for two weeks. We have already searched every location that had been linked to him that we know. We got nothing.”

“So…” you said, straightening your back to get some more movement to take away some of the soreness in your body, “I am your only clue.”

The man ran his gaze across your features, probably trying to analyse your reactions and trying to determine if you would cooperate willingly or if he would have to make you cooperate unwillingly. His words were slow, almost dragging his words when he said,

“Unfortunately, yes.”

‘Unfortunately’, why? Was he trying to tell you you weren't nice company? A little bit rude, to be honest.

“Then–” You cocked your head to the side and returned that look, “What is in it for me?” You asked the obvious question.

“Do you recognize the person in the picture?” He asked instead.

Recognize the person? Minato was hard to forget. Ruthless, sour, and dangerously quick-witted. Minato was a man that you wouldn’t like as your enemy, nor your friend, knowed to pull up tricks with everybody. You had reluctantly accepted his presence in the team back then, because like him or not, he was smart. But truth be told, he wasn’t someone you missed on a day to day basis.

“I do.” You offered as a free sample. You needed to play your cards right. Every bit of information they’d get out of you would have to come with a price.

You didn’t struggle with things like camaraderie or long forged trust for having worked together. You knew if it were Minato the one sitting in this chair, he would sell you in a heartbeat. Most of the band would, after all the whole thing had torn apart because of situations similar to this one.

“Where can we find him?”

“Answer my question first.”

“If you give us information about the subject,” the man said with a dead voice, “we can give you the chance to review your sentence.”

“By how much?”

“That’s for the judge to decide.”

“I walk out of here by the end of the mission.” You intended for it to be a statement more than a question. You looked at the man, dark bags under blood shotted eyes. His demeanor a walking mess, his clothes wrinkled. He looked tired as hell. Whatever the case that had him like this was clearly important and you needed to use that in your favor.

“As I said—”

“I won’t say a word until—”

“You might think,” he interrupted you, “that you have an upper hand because I had to come all the way here, but it had to be that way precisely because you’re trapped in here without a way out for the next couple of years.” The man bent closer just slightly while maintaining eye contact and added, “If you don’t give me this information there are other ways for me to find it, while this might be your only opportunity for something like this.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, rage creeping up your throat and a wakening desire to tell that man to go to hell with that deal of his. You licked your lips with the tip of your tongue and tried again.

“I just want to make sure you’re not gonna screw me over with false promises.”

“The deal can be arranged with your lawyer.”

“And what do you plan to do with the guy you are looking for?”

“Do you even care?”

“I’m just asking because I might also be of use for that too. Useful for something bigger, even.”

“How so?” Despite the question, he didn’t look interested in the slightest.

“You need that guy for information, but you have no way to know if he’s going to collaborate with you then. I can be the one pulling the information out of him.”

The man stared, and you came to feel the weight of his dead eyes over you. It was hard to tell what he was thinking by his lack of expressions. You stopped for a moment and considered your words.

“Imagine this,” you said, “I escape this place and come back to the city and I look for refuge with an old colleague...”

“Who is going to believe you escaped the most secure prison in the entire country?” He stopped you.

“All that I need is a small mistake from the guards that I can make into an exit. I am smart, as part of the gang I was the one in charge of the ‘slipping out’. If we do it right he won’t question it.” The statement wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t like you had already started to think and plot something of an escape. It had just been a tiny bit hard for you to find that small slip that could take you out of here, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You want to stage an escape.”

“Or let me out through the door and make up some rumors.” You tried to move forward to mimic the man at the other side but the straps of the chair kept you in place. You fidget with the clothes of one of the sleeves from the inside and wondered if you’d be able to pick a hole in it if you played with it enough with your nails. Now that a golden ticket out of here sat at the other side of the screen waiting for you, you couldn’t stop thinking of how much of a relief it would be to get out of here and not having to use this dam constraint anymore.

Maybe the man was right, maybe there would be other ways to get that guy’s location and habits, damn, there were two other members of the band that were imprisoned and wouldn’t hesitate to sell the information they had. But no one knew Minato as you knew –no one that was still alive. So maybe you weren’t the only option, but you were without a doubt the best option.

“Have you already asked the others?” You inquired. ‘The others’ were the other two newbies that had fallen into the hands of the police at the same time you did during that night at the underground pub.

The expression on the man’s face flinched slightly, a sign of discontent.

“I assumed they jumped at the opportunity, but nothing they had was of value.” You ventured to guess.

“All information we can collect now is valuable.” He bit back.

“But not as valuable as the details I can provide.”

Silence.

“I’m offering to be your pawn, how is that not tempting to you?”

“How is it not tempting to trust a person with a criminal record two times the size of the average prisoner?”

“You said the key word,” you lifted your nose at the man, “trust. I am the one who has more to lose here, as you already pointed out. If I don’t do you this favor, I’m going to rot in this hole. C’mon, I’m not a dangerous citizen, life forced me into some odd habits, that’s all.”

Yet another long silence. The man seemed to be studying you, running his eyes over you from head to toe, probably trying to shake some information out of you somewhere. You attempted a poker face.

The man suddenly stood up from the chair, file in hand.

“I will consider your offer,” he said, and you felt a rush of adrenaline filling your system. He moved to the door behind him and you couldn’t help but bend closer, as if you could stop him from leaving the room until he told you his final answer.

“Wait—” You tried to speak.“Until then,” he interrupted you, “have a good day.” He said before slipping out of the room and leaving you with the words in your mouth. The door at the other side closed with a deep tud and you were left with the itchy sensation of the jacket over your skin.

[craftyspirememory]

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If you're looking for the best motion sensor bulb price, you’re in the right place. We offer a wide range of high-quality bulbs at affordable rates. Whether you want a motion sensor bulb for home or office use, our selection covers all needs and budgets. You’ll find options that combine performance with a sleek, modern look.

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[pankj123]

The ESYSENSE Motion Sensor Bulb is a smart lighting solution that automatically brightens up your space when motion is detected. Designed with advanced radar bulb technology, this sensor bulb has a wide detection range, even sensing movement through thin walls and glass. Ideal for entryways, staircases, garages, and hallways, it turns on instantly when needed and switches off when no motion is present, helping you save energy effortlessly. Easy to install in any standard socket, the ESYSENSE Motion Sensor Bulb provides reliable, hands-free lighting for a safer and more convenient home.

[esysense984]

ESYSENSE | Top Leading Motion Sensor & Sensors Providers

Buy motion sensor lights, Motion Sensor LED Bulbs, Motion Sensor LED Ceiling lights, wardrobe sensors, Staircase controllers, Highbay sensors, Occupancy sensors, PIR Motion sensors, Microwave sensors and many more. for more: esysense.com

[cleanearthfunfacts]

Title: A Comprehensive Guide to Creating an Eco-Friendly Home 💡🌱🌍 Entertaining Guide on Environmental Awareness, Sustainable Living, and Renewable Energy Solutions | Clean Earth Fun Facts

Introduction:

Welcome to Clean Earth Fun Facts, your go-to source for fun and entertaining facts about our planet and how to keep it clean and green. In this comprehensive guide, we will explore various strategies and tips for creating an eco-friendly home. By incorporating energy-efficient appliances, sustainable building materials, and water conservation strategies, you can reduce your environmental footprint and contribute to a sustainable future. Let's dive in!

Chapter 1: Energy-Efficient Appliances

Understanding Energy Efficiency Ratings

Look for appliances with ENERGY STAR certification

Consider energy-efficient models for refrigerators, washing machines, dishwashers, and more

Lighting Solutions

Switch to LED or CFL bulbs

Utilize natural light through skylights and windows

Install motion sensor or timer switches to save energy

Smart Home Technology

Invest in smart thermostats and programmable HVAC systems

Control lighting and appliances remotely to avoid unnecessary energy consumption

Use power strips to eliminate standby power

Chapter 2: Sustainable Building Materials

Choose Renewable Materials

Opt for sustainably harvested wood and bamboo

Explore alternatives like reclaimed wood or recycled materials

Consider cork or linoleum flooring instead of vinyl or carpet

Energy-Efficient Insulation

Install insulation with high R-value to reduce heat loss

Consider eco-friendly options like cellulose or wool insulation

Seal air leaks to improve overall energy efficiency

Green Roofing Options

Explore cool roofs that reflect sunlight and reduce heat absorption

Consider metal roofing, recycled shingles, or living roofs (vegetation)

Chapter 3: Water Conservation Strategies

Efficient Plumbing Fixtures

Install low-flow toilets and showerheads

Use faucet aerators to reduce water flow

Repair leaks promptly

Rainwater Harvesting

Set up rain barrels or cisterns to collect rainwater for gardening or flushing toilets

Direct downspouts to water plants and trees

Landscape Design for Water Efficiency

Choose native, drought-resistant plants

Group plants with similar water needs

Mulch garden beds to retain moisture

Conclusion:

Congratulations on taking the first step towards creating an eco-friendly home! By implementing the strategies and tips discussed in this guide, you can significantly reduce your environmental impact and contribute to a sustainable future. Remember, small changes can make a big difference. Join us at Clean Earth Fun Facts in spreading awareness and inspiring others to embrace sustainable living. Together, we can make our planet cleaner, greener, and healthier!

Don't forget to follow us on social media:

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Welcome to Clean Earth Fun Facts, your ultimate source for entertaining and educational content about the environment, sustainable living, and renewable energy solutions. Join us as we explore fascinating facts, tips, and celebrations related to a clean and green planet.

🌍 Environmental Awareness Videos: Dive into our collection of thought-provoking videos that raise awareness about the importance of preserving our planet and inspire positive change.

🌱 Sustainable Living Tips: Learn practical ways to incorporate eco-friendly practices into your daily life. Discover simple yet effective strategies for reducing waste, conserving resources, and embracing a sustainable lifestyle.

💚 Eco-Friendly Facts: Uncover interesting and surprising facts about the environment, from unique ecosystems and endangered species to innovative eco-friendly technologies and initiatives.

🌿 Conservation Education: Gain a deeper understanding of conservation efforts worldwide. Explore the challenges faced by different ecosystems and learn about the initiatives and projects aimed at protecting our planet's biodiversity.

🌎 Climate Change Awareness: Stay informed about the latest developments in climate change research and solutions. Discover how individuals, communities, and organizations are working together to combat this global challenge.

🎉 Earth Day Celebrations: Join us in celebrating Earth Day and learn about the history, significance, and various events held around the world. Get inspired to take part in activities that promote environmental consciousness.

☀️ Renewable Energy Solutions: Explore the exciting world of renewable energy and sustainable technologies. Learn about solar power, wind energy, and other innovative solutions that can help us transition to a greener future.

Sit back, relax, and let us entertain and educate you with fascinating facts and inspiring stories about our incredible planet. Don't forget to subscribe to our channel and hit the notification bell to stay updated on our latest videos. Together, let's make a difference and create a cleaner, greener world!

🌍 Welcome to Clean Earth Fun Facts, where we bring you the most fun and entertaining facts about our planet and how to keep it clean and green! 🌱 Our goal is to spread awareness about environmental issues and inspire people to take action towards a sustainable future. 🌍 Join us on this journey to learn, laugh and make a difference! 🌍

I am an environmental enthusiast. I have a passion for creating a cleaner and greener environment, and I believe that we can make a significant impact with your help. As an advocate for a more sustainable future, I have created the "Go Green Clean Environment Initiative" to support our community's transition to a more eco-friendly lifestyle.

With your support, we can make a positive impact on the environment and reduce our carbon footprint. Our goal is to make our community a model of sustainability for others to follow.

I have created a Clean Earth Fun Facts Website https://michaelanthonyhoga6.wixsite.com/youtubecomcleanearth where I share my knowledge and experiences with others, helping them understand the importance of a sustainable future. I also have a LinkedIn Profile linkedin.com/comm/mynetwork/discovery-see-all?usecase=PEOPLE_FOLLOWS&followMember=michael-hogan-597090166

where I discuss environmentally friendly investments and ways to make a difference through conscious investing.

Your contribution will help us further Clean Earth Fun Facts content creation. We believe that every little bit counts, and we appreciate any donation, no matter the size.

Together, we can make a difference and create a cleaner and greener future for our community and the world. Thank you for your support!

Welcome to Clean Earth Fun Facts, your ultimate destination for all things green, sustainable, and eco-friendly! Join us as we explore environmental awareness, conservation, renewable energy, and more. Our channel promotes green living, sustainable practices, and the importance of biodiversity. Dive into a world of eco-consciousness and discover green initiatives, reduce your carbon footprint, and become an eco-warrior. Learn about sustainable fashion, wildlife conservation, and the latest green technologies. Let's make a positive environmental impact through education and advocacy. Together, we can create a cleaner, greener future for our planet. Subscribe now and join the Clean Earth Fun Facts community!

🌍 Thank you for your interaction and support! I'm thrilled to have you here in the Clean Earth Fun Facts community. Together, we're making a positive impact on our planet with every step we take towards a greener future. 🌿✨

If you're looking for captivating videos on environmental awareness, sustainable living tips, and entertaining facts about the environment, you've come to the right place! 🎥🌱 Join me on https://michaelanthonyhoga6.wixsite.com/youtubecomcleanearth for an engaging journey towards a cleaner, greener planet.

Let's spread the word about the importance of conservation, climate change awareness, and the wonders of renewable energy solutions. Together, we can make Earth Day celebrations a year-round event!

Remember, every small action counts. Share the knowledge, embrace eco-friendly practices, and let's create a brighter future for generations to come. 🌎💚

Join the Clean Earth Fun Facts movement and be part of the solution for a cleaner, greener, and more sustainable planet! Our website is a hub of valuable information and resources dedicated to spreading awareness about environmental issues and promoting sustainable living practices. We provide engaging content, including informative articles, entertaining videos, and interactive quizzes, all aimed at educating and inspiring individuals to make a positive impact on our planet. If you are an advertiser who shares our vision for a better world, we invite you to partner with us. By placing your brand on our platform, you can reach a passionate and environmentally-conscious audience eager to support businesses that align with their values. Leave your information below, and our team will get in touch with you to discuss exciting advertising opportunities. Together, let's create a sustainable future and make a real difference for generations to come.

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Stay tuned for entertaining facts about the environment, Earth Day celebrations, renewable energy solutions, and more!

[nooralqusais]

Sustainable Bathroom Practices in Dubai

Eco-Friendly Solutions for Your Bathroom Renovation

In Dubai, where luxury and environmental consciousness are increasingly intertwined, creating a sustainable bathroom during your bathroom renovation Dubai or bathroom remodeling project showcases your commitment to a greener future. This guide explores various eco-friendly practices and solutions you can incorporate to transform your Dubai bathroom into a haven of relaxation while minimizing your environmental impact.

Key Considerations for Sustainable Bathroom Practices:

The crucial considerations for sustainable bathroom practices in Dubai include:

Water Conservation: Conserving water is vital for sustainability in Dubai's arid climate.

Energy Efficiency: Opting for energy-saving fixtures and appliances reduces your carbon footprint.

Material Selection: Choosing sustainable materials like recycled content or locally sourced options minimizes environmental impact.

Waste Reduction: Minimizing waste generated during renovation and choosing low-maintenance materials reduces future waste.

Water-Saving Strategies:

Implement these water-saving strategies in your bathroom:

Low-flow showerheads and faucets: Install low-flow fixtures that significantly reduce water usage compared to conventional options.

Dual-flush toilets: Opt for toilets that offer a choice of full or partial flushes for water conservation.

Water-saving aerators: These small attachments fitted to faucets can significantly reduce water flow without compromising functionality.

Leak detection and repair: Address any leaks promptly to prevent water wastage.

Energy-Saving Solutions:

Adopt these energy-saving solutions in your bathroom:

LED lighting: Replace traditional incandescent bulbs with energy-efficient LED lights that offer superior energy savings and longer lifespans.

Motion-sensor lighting: Install motion-sensor lights in areas like the bathroom where occupancy is intermittent, reducing unnecessary energy consumption.

Energy-efficient ventilation fans: Choose ventilation fans that are energy-efficient and have timers or humidity sensors to regulate their operation.

Consider heated towel rails: Heated towel rails powered by solar energy or waste heat from your water heater can reduce reliance on electricity.

Sustainable Material Selection:

Make sustainable choices when selecting materials for your bathroom:

Recycled content: Look for fixtures, countertops, or vanities made from recycled materials like glass or plastic, reducing reliance on virgin resources.

Locally sourced materials: Opt for locally sourced materials to minimize transportation-related emissions and support local businesses.

FSC-certified wood: Choose wood products with Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) certification, ensuring sustainable forest management practices.

Natural stone tiles: While requiring careful selection and sealing, natural stone tiles like granite or slate offer durability and a timeless aesthetic with minimal processing compared to some man-made options.

Waste Reduction Practices:

Implement these waste reduction practices during your bathroom renovation:

Salvaged or refurbished materials: Consider using salvaged or refurbished bathroom fixtures or cabinets to give them a new life and reduce waste.

Minimize demolition waste: During the renovation process, plan to minimize the amount of demolition waste generated by carefully salvaging usable materials and disposing of others responsibly.

Low-maintenance materials: Choose low-maintenance materials like engineered wood or porcelain tiles that require minimal cleaning chemicals and replacements, reducing waste in the long run.

Additional Sustainable Practices:

Consider these additional sustainable practices for your bathroom:

Water recycling: Invest in a greywater recycling system to reuse wastewater from showers and sinks for irrigation or toilet flushing.

Natural cleaning products: Opt for natural and biodegradable cleaning products to minimize the use of harsh chemicals and their impact on water quality.

Shower timers: Encourage shorter showers by installing shower timers to raise awareness of water usage.

Conclusion:

Creating a sustainable bathroom in Dubai is a rewarding endeavor that contributes to a greener tomorrow. By incorporating the strategies mentioned above, you can transform your bathroom into a space that embodies both luxury and environmental responsibility. Remember, even small changes can make a significant impact, and your eco-conscious choices can inspire others to adopt sustainable practices within their own homes.

[tollthebell]

The dreams it has invented have been hell, and yet still this dream stands out, burying you in the wall of a laboratory meant to contain just this. The lights never run out of bulbs here, they're constantly changed, reinforced, and they're augmented by normally invisible laser trips.

The room is gargantuan and empty, and inside of the central piece of it lies the ugly twisting shape of that hundred and more-foot long metal sarcophagus. Contained in front of it, the blackened pride and joy of Team Rocket, the Master Ball, sits in front of you under the countless motion sensors and disruptors.

You are the witness to what happens next. You've seen things hatch before, their shells splitting.

It's like that. A split appears on the purple top. It rocks once, and another crack appears across the button sealing it firmly together.

Twice, and the band starts bubbling.

Three times.

Nothing else happens, but the coldest dread and deepest fear settles in your gut while you watch hundreds of small red dots begin hitting something invisible rising like smoke out of it.

Nix is getting off the train, boots clacking rhythmically against the tiled floor, when they feel their legs begin to give out. They reach out for Solrock, brushing their own psychic energy against their companion, a signal for assistance as cataplexy steals the strength from their muscles.

Its been so long since their last episode that the sensation of muscles slackening, knees bending, fingertips tingling, almost comes as a surprise. Almost.

And then the cold hand of sleep pulls them in.

—

The dream is of containment. Lights bearing down like the sun, sterile. Restrained. The empty space crackling with an inexplicable pressure. A coffin cuts through the place, ink-black, somehow pulsing with energy and completely still. The Master Ball sits, a triumph of Rocket science, overshadowed by the enormous sarcophagus. Almost like an offering.

And something is terribly wrong.

The ball strains, and to Nix's growing horror, it splits. First along the crown, then across the button. The band bubbles and hisses, corroding. And then… nothing.

The air is still, silent, but dread seizes their guts with a cold twist as hundreds of tiny red lights draw an outline around a strange mist-

—

The return to consciousness is uncharacteristically abrupt. Nix's head snaps up with a start, nearly colliding with Solrock. The world spins for a moment and then stills. They're still on the train platform, feet still (mostly) holding them up. A considerate stranger stands nearby, keeping an eye on them. Nix nods to her politely and clears their throat before righting themself properly.

They have to get to Saffron.

[cursedmystic]

The dreams it has invented have been hell, and yet still this dream stands out, burying you in the wall of a laboratory meant to contain just this. The lights never run out of bulbs here, they're constantly changed, reinforced, and they're augmented by normally invisible laser trips.

The room is gargantuan and empty, and inside of the central piece of it lies the ugly twisting shape of that hundred and more-foot long metal sarcophagus. Contained in front of it, the blackened pride and joy of Team Rocket, the Master Ball, sits in front of you under the countless motion sensors and disruptors.

You are the witness to what happens next. You've seen things hatch before, their shells splitting.

It's like that. A split appears on the purple top. It rocks once, and another crack appears across the button sealing it firmly together.

Twice, and the band starts bubbling.

Three times.

Nothing else happens, but the coldest dread and deepest fear settles in your gut while you watch hundreds of small red dots begin hitting something invisible rising like smoke out of it.

Rest comes hard once he's home, his brows furrowed even in his sleep. Dream Eater does nothing to help, only poisoning the Pokemon who use it -- even those immune to toxins. So, he's trying to rest now.

The dream isn't the barren landscape of the Bell Tower or the darkness of his bedroom. It's blinding light that reminds him of the hospital, though far more intense than anything they had.

The sight of the sarcophagus makes his stomach drop, makes his body hurt from how hard every nerve in his body prickles. The Master Ball is so corroded, it looks like it was dragged out of the sea after a millennia.

The first split appears and his heart thunders in his ears. The second split and he's holding his breath for so long his lungs feel fit to burst. The third fills him with a nauseous dread so strong it overwhelms any other senses.

He can feel the distinct feeling of an eye on him, looking at him with such accusing humor, and the rising smoke of it fades into the black of night as the dream is wrenched away.

He's grabbing blindly for his phone, even when nausea turns his stomach to heaving. It's by virtue of Rotom's help that he gets her number right at all.

(If he sounds like he's crying from fright, it's because he just might be for once.)

"Sabrina."