#then my heat pad DIES (electric heat pad. i like the thing; it’s great that it’s wearable; but the fact that it can die bothers me)

[fingertipsmp3]

Sometimes it really feels like the world is conspiring to keep me from reading

[nicolewoo]

Super Earth Chapter 11: Landed

Pairing: Roman Reigns X Reader

Interesting fact: TOI 1452b (SUPER EARTH) is a real planet, but's so far away, scientist can only speculate that it is covered in water.

As the ship gently touched down onto the landing pad, I almost expected the pad to rock or shift and tumble us into the ocean, but it didn’t move at all.

“Great Landing Captain!” Seth’s voice chirped through the coms. “Smooth as butter.”

“Thank you for your assistance, Commander Rollins.” I answered back.

“Come on out whenever your ready.” Rollins added. “We’re all excited to meet you guys.”

From the cock pit 10 meters above the pad, I had an excellent view of the colony. The first thing I noticed was the wall that surrounded the colony. That had been a crucial piece of the colony and had taken 5 years to construct once a new type of plexiglass was made that was strong enough to withstand the ocean winds and waves and still allow the residents to see out. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like in the years before that wall was erected. There had been quite a few people pulled overboard during storms. 6 colonists had died.

The landing pad itself had opaque walls made from a new type of organic plastic, because the plexiglass couldn’t handle the heat of the ship engines.

The colony consisted of identical small white houses. The pad itself was near the workshops and warehouses for the settlement. There were also a few bigger buildings in the center of town. I assumed they housed the public buildings and businesses. There were plants everywhere. Growing on top of the buildings, growing from raised beds around the houses, even window boxes grew what looked like herbs.

My eyes scanned the ocean. The gorgeous teal waters around the colony were calm and peaceful, but we had seen dark blue waters and storms as we orbited the planet.

15 minutes after landing, I walked down the ramp flanked by Jamie, Orange, Gargano, Dr. Thorpe and Ciampa behind me. A group of people were headed to the launch pad on electric golf carts… a lot of them.

A tall man with wild, untamed black hair and beard led the group to greet us. “Captain Y/L/N?”

“Commander Rollins?” I asked extending my hand to shake his.

“Welcome to Super Earth!” He shook my hand as he talked. I stopped to look around, breathing in the salty air. My eyes scanned the vast planet of water around the colony, and I realized my whole group was doing the same.

“Thank you.” I tried to focus back on him.

I’d done it. We’d done it. We successfully landed on Super Earth. I realized every dream I’d ever had was coming true right at this moment, and it was surreal.

“Commander Rollins, I’d like to…..”

Rollins held up a hand to stop me. “It’s just Seth. We don’t stand on ceremony here. Just call me Seth.”

This was a bit of information I’d somehow never heard before. “No ranks?” He shook his head no. Somehow that felt right; no ranks, no titles. It was foreign to me, to my crew, but then we were surrounded by new everything.

“Seth, I’d like to introduce you to some of my crew. Lt….. I mean, Jamie and Ciampa are my co-pilots, Dr. Thorpe, Orange Cassidy and Gargano who are our Engineers.”

Seth took turns shaking everyone’s hands before introducing the people standing around him.   “This is Balor, Priest,” I started shaking their hands “Um…. Sheamus, Butch and Holland.”

I waited a beat for their ranks before realizing they wouldn’t be given. Everything was so relaxed here.

I heard footsteps coming from inside the ship and turned to see Mello tentatively coming down the ramp with his duffel bag. He looked questioningly at me as if asking permission, and I signaled to let everyone out of the ship.  

The people Seth had just introduced me to were quick to greet my crew and passengers, grabbing bags and loading them onto the golf carts as they did. Seeing my crew and passengers coming off the ship and seeing the planet for the first time was almost as exciting as I was coming down the ramp. Wide eyes, smiles, laughs. I’d done this. I’d gotten everyone here safely. A tear of relief threatened to fall from my eye. Orange scooted closer to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. Jamie came up from the other side, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You did it, Cap.” Orange said.

“WE did it.” I answered.

We stayed a couple more minutes watching as colonists greeted our crew and passengers. Hugs, handshakes, smiles and laughter abounded. Many of the crew members and scientists paused to give me and the flight crew a pat on the back. Tilly came over to hug me, holding me too tight and whispering, “I knew you could do it!” before going back to the friends she was with.

Priest, who I’d just met a few minutes ago, stuck his fingers in his mouth for a loud whistle to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s all head into town.” Seth said and we started walking away from the pad. I’d thought the golf carts were there to give us rides into the colony, but instead they were used to carry luggage, although I did see Owens and Zayne hanging off the back of one, grinning mischievously like school-boys.

I saw Roman out of the corner of my eye. “Will you excuse me for a second?” Seth said yes and took the break to talk to one of the cart drivers.

I practically ran to Roman and I jumped into his arms. “You did it, baby girl. I knew you would.” He said as he spun me around once. That pesky tear of joy came out now, snaking down my face as the cool ocean wind chilled it. “Ok, go do your thing. I’ll see you after my lab is set up.”

“Love you.” I whispered as I hugged him again and went back to Seth.

Residents of the colony lined the streets, waving and cheering as we passed. They all seemed to be as excited as we were. Flags of different countries hung from doorways, pieces of cloth had been strung together to create Mexican-style decorative flag bunting that hung between the houses and across the streets and children had filled the streets with chalk art. Laugher, cheers and welcomes rang out. This was a party and we were the guests.

“So, you’ve got 531 residents here?” I asked Seth as we walked through the settlement.

Seth was quick to answer, “Your information is out of date!”

I turned to him, thinking quickly, “Did you lose someone?” I said with sympathy.

Seth answered with a chuckle. “No. No not at all. We have someone new!”

It took a beat for me to realize what he meant. “There’s a baby?”

He nodded with a smile, “As of last week. We now have 532 residents.”

We entered a building and Seth knocked on a door to the right of the front door. “Honey, you decent?”

“Oh… uh…..” A woman said. “Hold on…. Ok. Yeah Yeah, Come on in!”

“Becks, This is Commander Y/L/N.” He introduced. “Commander, this is my wife Becky.”

“Y/N” I said as we walked into the room and found a beautiful red-headed woman rearranging her clothing after breastfeeding.

“Hello!” She was bright eyed and excited, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the baby. They were perfect. “Would you like to say hi?” The woman offered me the little infant; who was so tiny I couldn’t believe it.

I took the baby, holding and rocking it in my arms. “And this is Roux.” Seth said holding a finger to the baby who smiled  and cooed up at him while gripping the finger.

“I wasn’t expecting a baby.” I smiled down at the child. “Hello Roux. Welcome to…..” I was going to say welcome to the world, but I realized that was wrong… “our universe. Seth? She’s yours?”

He beamed the smile that could only come from a proud father. “She’s ours.”

“She’s precious.” Jamie said as she followed Seth’s example and held a finger out for Roux to grasp.

Finishing up what she was doing, Becky took Roux from me and grabbed a cloth satchel that I guessed she was using as a diaper bag. “We’re ready. Let’s head over to the square.” At that, we left the building, walking around the block and seeing a large open space with a stage in the town square.

The square was surrounded by houses, all small and white and made from the organic plastic that surrounded the pad. The colonists had found ways to personalize their homes; Fruit trees grew from raised garden beds, flowers sat on window sills, bright colored curtains peeked out from inside the houses.  

A few minutes later, Seth and Becky, who held baby Roux, took the stage. A quick, very loud whistle from Seth quieted everyone. “I’d like to formally welcome you TOI 1452 B.” A huge cheer rang out from everyone. “I’m Seth. I’m Base Commander, Mayor, Architect and…” he paused as he tried to remember.

Becky jumped in “Barista, babe.”

Seth chuckled, “And barista.” Everyone laughed.

“That reminds me, Cap” He motioned me up to the stage. “I have a very, very important question for you.”

Anticipating his question, I answered. “I have 500 cases of coffee and 400 coffee plants for you.” The crowd went wild with clapping and laughter. “Are you out of coffee?” I laughed and Becky answered.

“We’ve been on tight rations. One cup per person per day. It’s been hell.” She chuckled as she said it and all of the colonists laughed with her.

“Allright!!!!” He motioned for the crowd to quiet down. “Can all the newcomers hear me?” My passengers and crew said yes. “So, Welcome. First off, the number one rule of this colony is to do NO HARM to this planet. That means no dropping things. The winds on this planet can be brutal, so everything needs to be secured at all times. Can we all agree to our motto: LEAVE NO TRACE?!” As Seth said it, the colonists who could hear him said the phrase at the same time. Those who couldn’t hear him echoed the phrase as they heard it. As our crew and passengers heard it, they repeated it too. Of course, I did too.

“We don’t stand on ceremony here. You don’t have to call me Base Commander or Mayor. Just call me Seth. If the colonists call you by your name instead of your rank, please don’t take offence. We all live here. We all work here, and we’re all equal. If something needs done, we do it. Doesn’t matter what our titles are or what our degrees are. For less popular positions, like waste management and washing the outside of the colony walls, we rotate so everyone does their turn. It is fair.

For the next few hours, colonists will be helping the scientists set up their labs. If you look over here,” He pointed to a row of colonists who were sitting at tables. “When this meeting is over, go there and find the colonists assigned to help you. You’ve been paired up with the scientists you’ll be working with while you’re on Super Earth.”

“Lastly, dinner will be served at 1800 hours in our cafeteria” He pointed across the square to a large building. “but we have snacks and drinks set up now if you get hungry early, but don’t ruin your appetites. Our colonists have been working hard to cook up a feast for you.”

My crew and passengers broke out clapping and cheering.

“There are 2 people to a house, so when you’re finished with your work, head into the cafeteria where we have the housing station set up. Tell us who you’re bunking with, and we’ll assign you a house.” He turned to Becky and asked “Is that all?”, and she nodded.

“We’ll see you all at dinner then.” Seth unceremoniously walked off the stage, and the colonists started moving…. Some inside buildings and houses, some back to the landing pad, some to help carry our luggage.

The next couple of hours were hectic. Seth, Becky and my crew had a million questions for me, and I found myself stuck to one area instead of being able to help. I’d much prefer helping set up the labs, but instead I was stuck reading reports on ships systems, identifying which crates belonged to which scientists and directing the delivery of our cargo load, much of which was filled with supplies for the colony.

When I was finally done at 1445 pm, I was happy to grab my duffel bag and head to the cafeteria to get my house assignment.

A grizzled young man sat behind a table, “Hey Cap. I’m Dean.” He stood and shook my hand. “Who you rooming with?” he asked as if he’d already asked it a million times today.

I was a little nervous when I answered, “Dr. Reigns.” What would the colonists think about me falling for someone on the trip. Would they send a long-range communication to Earth to report the relationship? But Dean didn’t blink an eye. “Oh yeah! I forgot he said that. Ok, He grabbed a scanner from the table, pushed a few buttons on it and held it to my eye before typing on a computer pad for a second. “House 32” He said. “Dragon?” A young man turned to look at Dean before heading our way. “This is Diego. We all call him Dragon. He’ll show you to your house.”

I thanked Dean before greeting Dragon. He didn’t speak much, and when he did, he had a heavy accent. “This way.” He led me to the house. “Now, just hold your face here for an eye scan.” I did as he showed me, and heard the front door unlock. I opened the door, thanked the young man who promised to see me at dinner and turned to go.

I heaved my bag inside, looking through the very tiny house. There was one room, a living room consisting of one small couch and a coffee table, with a tiny kitchenette on one side. A second room was our bedroom, and I spied a small bathroom just beyond, but my favorite site of all was Roman unpacking his bag into drawers.

“There you are! Welcome home.” He came and wrapped himself around me. Kissing me deeply. I could lose myself in his kiss; especially after this momentous day, but it would be rude not to go to dinner.

“Lab ready?” I had expected it to take much longer.

He nodded as he handed me a much-welcomed cup of water. “Hmmm.” It tasted awful! Nothing like the water on Earth. There was a musty taste that reminded me of feet.  “That’s gonna take some getting used to.” I chuckled.

He laughed, “Yeah, I think I’ll be drinking a lot of tea and coffee.”

I unceremoniously plopped on the couch. “How did you get the lab set up so fast?”

He sat next to me, giving me a kiss before answering. “These people are amazing. All of them are in amazing shape and have tons of energy. Maybe something in the water is giving them strange alien powers.” He teased. “Just kidding. I had a lot of very helpful colonists working with me. When I left there were just a couple more labs to move.” He wrapped his arm around the back of the couch and pulled me into his side. “What have you been up to?”

“Basically? Standing in the middle of the square answering questions, directing payload movement and paperwork.”

“Sounds boring.” He laughed.

“I wanted to help with the labs, but I couldn’t get free.” I laid my head on his shoulder.

He kissed my forehead and we settled into a comfortable silence as we snuggled. “Oh, Hey baby” He said. I peeked up to see him smiling. “Your life’s ambition was accomplished today.”

I sighed. “It was.”

“Is it everything you wanted?” He asked.

In truth it was way too soon to tell if Super Earth was going to live up to my expectations, but so far, the landing, the people, the colony was better than I had imagined. I nodded yes. “I think it’s going to be better than I’d hoped, but we shall see.”

A Feast! The colonists had cooked up a feast for us! Two tables filled with food. Casseroles, stews, soups, breads, rice…. As we’d heard, they had made all our favorites. Seth and Becky had saved us a place at their table. 

“Sit. Sit you two.” Becky said when we she saw us. “How is everything? Settling in?”

We took our seats, and a man came by with some coffee and tea pitchers, filling our glasses quickly. “I have to say, this is amazing! We can’t thank you all enough.”

“We definitely feel welcome.” Roman added.

“Did we hear you’re a couple?” Becky said.

I didn’t know what to say. Would they care? “Uh…”

Roman finished my thought. “Yes, but she’s scared NASA will think less of her for falling in love with a passenger.”

Seth and Becky looked at each other while they laughed. “That’s how we fell in love too. NASA understands if you put people in close quarters for months on end, someone is gonna fall in love” He said.

“Really?” I asked.

Becky smiled wide and started to answer but was interrupted by a gong. Everyone stopped to look in the direction of the sound. “Dinner is ready.” A tall young man in an apron yelled.

“Awesome!” Seth said. “Let’s get in line.” He jumped up, grabbed the baby from Becky and led the way to the buffet.

The food, much like the water tasted odd. Not terrible, but not delicious either. It would take some getting used to. When Roman caught my eye, he smiled at me knowingly. I almost laughed out loud.

Despite the odd flavors, my crew and passengers were having a great time. A small band set up and music and dancing ensued. Carmello found me at one time and handed me a container of food. I could tell it was from the ship; which meant Mello cooked it; which meant it would taste amazing. All he said was “I got your back Cap… Always.” I hugged him while I laughed.

“Thank you!” Roman added.

“I also got a package of Oreos tucked away for you. I’ll deliver them tomorrow.” He winked as a beautiful young colonist pulled him onto the dance floor.

“You Rock!” I called out to him.

_____________________________________________________________________

Tilly sat at a table with a mix of our crew and colonists. She was telling the colonists about space dodgeball. Everyone was fascinated. She stopped mid-sentence and stood when she saw me approach. “Captain” she said.

“You don’t have to call me captain here, Tilly.” It was weird to call her by name.

“Yeah, but if I stop now, I’m afraid I’ll forget when we fly home.” It was an issue I expected and was inclined to forgive. There was a good chance I’d mess up too.

“I understand. Walk with me.” Tilly turned back to the table saying she’d be back.

“Just a few minutes.” I added as we took a few steps away; enough to be out of earshot from the table.

Tilly fidgeted with her hands in obvious nervousness. “You’re not in trouble.” At that she relaxed. “Tilly, you have an amazing ability.” I started, and she smiled a bit.

“What’s that Cap?”

“You have the ability to make the people around you feel at ease.”

Tilly’s room-brightening smile burst forth. She very quietly said “Thank you cap.”

“No. Thank YOU!” I said. “It was you and your faith in me and your ability to calm people that helped me the most today, and I thought you should know that.”

Tears welled up in the young woman’s eyes. “Cap, I mean,” her fidgeting returned.. “that’s just…I don’t know what to say.”

I smiled warmly, “You don’t need to say anything, but I wanted to let you know how important your kindness was today, and I wanted others to know, which is why” I pulled out a tablet I was holding, clicking the screen to turn it on, “I’m putting a personal Captain’s Commendation in your file.”

 This was a huge honor. Only about 3 people got these a year; and only when their actions had directly helped a Captain. She took the pad from me and scanned what I had written. Her engineering skills, her calm under pressure. and that Tilly would be an amazing ambassador, because she possessed an uncanny ability to put those around her at ease.”

She started crying. “An ambassador? I’ve never even thought about that.”

“I’d like you to think about it, seriously. I’ve spoken to Cassidy. He agrees with me, and, if you want to explore being an ambassador, he’s willing to let me borrow you one day a week.” She started to protest, saying she had a lot of work to do, but I stopped her. “Coffey has grown so much over the past 4 months. He’s already doing more than expected. I bet he’d be willing to learn some of your job. It’s not permanent, just something to think about.”

She was a little dumbfounded. “Tilly,” she looked at me. “This is a huge opportunity. Be my liaison with the colony one day a week. If you don’t like it, you can go right back to engineering, but if you do like it, and I’m sure you’ll be great at it, you have a chance to move way up in rank. I highly suggest you do it. Opportunities like this don’t happen often.”

Hearing my words, she started nodding fervently. “Yes! Yes! Of course Cap. It would be my honor!” She hugged me quickly then realized how inappropriate that would be on the ship. She started to pull away, but I hugged her back.

“At this rate, you’ll be ready for the Captain’s chair in a couple of years.” I said.

@mindofasagitarius @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire @starwithaheart for the wolf fic @spookys-girl for the wolf fic @pitlissa22 for the wolf fic @snowpanda18 @thesamoanqueen @sassginaswanmills

[viking-raider]

Of Truth and Justice - Part II

Summary: Clark tries his best to convince Calea into helping the Justice League in defeating Steppenwolf and saving Earth. The League works on gaining more information on the Mother Boxes.

Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x OFC

Word Count: 8,866

Parts: I

Rating: PG-13 - Justice League!AU, Language, Fluff, Angst, PTSD, Anxiety

Inspiration: Something that’s been on my Muse’s brain after watching Justice League a couple of times.

Author’s Note: TY to the amazing @wondersofdreaming​ for being a stellar Beta! Tell me what you think!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart​, @peakygroupie​, @jessevans​, @rosie-loves-things​, @ohjules​, @mary-ann84​, @omgkatinka​, @the-freak-cassie-131​, @wardl0w​​, @agniavateira​, @cap-barnes​, @romyr4​, @michelehansel​, @kaatelyyynn​, @badassbaker​, @mrsaugustwalker​, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe​, @severuined​, @supernaturalvikingwhore​, @bellastellaluna​, @wondersofdreaming​, @thisisntmyrightera​, @michelle-1185​, @winchwm​, @royallylazy​, @sofiebstar​, @worldicreate​, @agniavateira​, @fantasygirlsuniverse​, @witches-of-discovery-a​, @xuxszx​, @ayamenimthiriel​, @keiva1000​, @fantasygirlsuniverse​, @itsreigns​, @constip8merm8​, @scorpionchild81​, @mylifefallingupthestairs​, @onlyhenrys​, @luclittlepond​, @ellixthea​, @lebguardians​, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn​, @p3nny4urth0ught5​, @iloveyouyen​, @hollydaisy23​, @mcuimagination​, @psychosupernatural​, @sweetlybigdragonn​, @whitewolfandthefox​, @moviemonzy​, @the-soot-sprite​, @hell1129-blog​, @trippedmetaldetector​, @captaingothgirl1996​, @dont8mind8me8eue​, @peaky-marvel​, @desperate-and-broken21​, @monstersnmoney​, @dancingwendigo​, @redhot-mystacism​, @thereisa8ella​, @black-ninja-blade​, @oddduckthatgirl​, @rosewinx​, @henrythickcavill​, @tinabean37​, @hnryycvll​, @msblkfire84​, @romangenesius​, @emelinelovesjc​, @strangerliaa​, @lovieebby​, @pinksdaydream​, @fanfictionaddiction99​, @seb-owns-these-tatas​, @oh-for-fic-sake​, @sauvage-et-libre​, @mis-lil-red​, @angreav​, @crazyandanonymous4u​, @the-mighty-jellybean​ @henrycavell​, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​, @iam-laiya​, @worshipping-skarsgard​, @thetruthandotherstories​, @ruthoakenshield​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @theonetheycallhannah​, @nina-skyee​, @thatgirly81​, @inanna999​, @suueeeeeee​, @spideysimpossiblegirl​, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8​, @beckster07890​, @daddys-littlewhitegirl​, @magic-and-the-macabre​, @stxphmxlls​, @radaofrivia​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @starstruckkittyangel​​, @heartfelt-pen​​

“Ouch.” Clark hissed, pulling away from Calea. “That keeps happening.” He frowned, watching teeny blue bolts of electricity jump from the top of her hand to the pads of his fingers.

“It happened, when I touched you in the--”

“Sol-Gel.” Calea replied, watching two more sparks jump from him to her, even with their hands centimetres apart. “It's like, super advanced Human Stem Cells.”

“It's the same as the Genesis Chamber, in the Fortress of Solitude.” Clark nodded, understanding. “Why does it keep happening though?” He asked, frowning at her.

Calea frowned at him. “Not to be untoward.”

She opened his brown leather hoodie and pushed her hand up inside his shirt, feeling the downy trail over his abdomen, half smirking as his muscles spasmed under her warm touch and the teeny sparks their skin continued to generate between them. Her hand skimmed over the pectoral muscles of his chest and met his eyes, through the glass of his black frames. Taking a deep breath, Calea rested her hand over his heart, fingers spread and pads pressed into his skin. Both of them gasped as a painful jolt of electricity passed between them, a bright blue tinge coloring both of their eyes for the briefest of moments.

Calea gasped and ripped her hand away from his chest and stumbled to her feet.

“What is it?” Clark frowned, getting to his own feet.

“Nothing.” She replied, turning away from him. “It just hurt, is all.” She lied, running a hand through her hair, fingers shaky.

“Can I do anything?” He asked, fretting.

“No, I'll be fine.” Calea replied, taking deep breaths and calming down her heart. “How does it feel to be alive again?” She asked, changing the subject.

“Itchy.” He chuckled, rubbing his arm. “Loud and bright.”

“Do you prefer it?” She asked, turning to look at him again. “Being alive or dead.”

“Being alive is nice.” Clark smiled. “Especially, since I get to see my mother again.” He took a deep breath, the air cool and fragrant in his lungs. “Why is it, you prefer to be asleep in the Sol-Gel, than being out here?”

“Other than Ryder, I have no reason to be here. No connection or bond rooting me in place.” Calea explained to him, glancing up at the dimming sky. “All I have is a reminder of what I lost and will never get back. Now, all that is for not, with Steppenwolf in possession of the Mother Boxes.”

“The pouring of salt in a never healing wound.” She sighed.

“So, if Calea is the only Selian left in the universe,” Barry started around a mouthful of cereal. “What are you?” He asked Ryder.

“I am a Coteran.” Ryder replied, rubbing his face at Barry's four hundredth question. “An ally to the Selians. Many of us train to become elite servants to the Selians. I was one such.”

“Are your people still around?”

“It's most likely.” Ryder answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “I haven't encountered one since we arrived here on Earth. I also haven't looked for any, I'm kept busy watching over Calea.”

“How hard can she be to watch, when she's in a tub of goo?” Arthur laughed.

“It's not as simple as that.” Ryder huffed at the Atlantean. “I have to maintain the temperature of the Sol-Gel, to make sure it stays fresh and active. Maintain her vital signs and comfort, make sure no one finds us and tries to harm her. I also have to keep her up to date on what's going on in the world.”

“How the hell do you do that?” Arthur rasped, lifting a brow at him.

Ryder looked at Arthur and narrowed his eyes. “Painstakingly.”

Clark and Calea stepped into the house and Ryder moved to her side, looking her over and making sure she was all right.

“I'm fine.” She sighed, patting him on the cheek. “Why don't you make them dinner, I'm going to lay down, I still have a lot of re-acclimating to do.” She told him softly, and turned to the rest of them.

“If I don't see you in the morning, it was a pleasure meeting you all.”

“Wait!” Bruce snapped, jumping up from his chair. “You're not going to help us?”

“I don't know how.” Calea told him, shaking her head. “Or, if I even can. By the time I try and learn how to, it will be far too late.”

“But, we need you.” He tried to argue.

Calea smiled at them, chuckling. “No, you do not.” You told him, meeting their eyes. “You have each other.”

Then, with a bow of her head to them, she went upstairs to her room.

“You have to convince her to help us.” Bruce said, looking over at Ryder. “You're the one that brought us here.”

“I am also the one that said you would have to convince her of it. I can't, or anyone for that matter, force Calea to do anything she doesn't wish too. Many have tried, and died, in the attempt.” Ryder replied, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt.

“Great, so we wasted valuable time.” Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes.

Clark touched his chest and frowned up the stairs. “Perhaps not.” He whispered. “She's just woke up with the bad news that one thing her people were trying to hide and protect, has been found and taken, by the very thing that wiped her people out. I can understand her reluctance to face that, if it wiped out your whole race before, killing you shouldn't be so hard.”

“I had the same qualm with Zod.”

“Do you think you can convince her to help us?” Diana asked, frowning up at him.

“I don't know.” Clark sighed, he had felt a connection with Calea, an understanding about something only someone in the same boat would understand and know how to shoulder. “I can try in the morning.” He said, stifling a yawn.

Calea whimpered in her sleep, it had been decades since she had slept unaided by the monitored and controlled Sol-Gel. Instead of well placed memories of a happier life, she was tormented by the memories and nightmares of things she couldn't stop or change. Growling, she sat up, tugging the bunched up blankets off her legs and got out of bed. She went to push open the double doors leading out to the balcony off her room, when the quickening of a heart somewhere in the house, started pounding in her sensitive ears. Sighing, Calea pulled on a robe and stepped into the hall, closing her eyes and swiveling her head to catch what direction it was coming from.

Honing in on it, Calea followed it down the hall to one of the guest rooms. Quietly opening the door and stepping inside, her eyes rested on the sleeping form of Clark, laying on his stomach and breathing hard, his handsome face pinched. Frowning, Calea's bare feet silently crossed the floor and she sat on the edge of his bed, her head tilting at him and her fingertips drifted down the length of Clark's back, small bolts touching each of his vertebra as she passed over them.

“Clark.” She whispered, hearing his soft whimper and rested her hand between his shoulder-blades.

Gasping, Clark jerked up, his pupils glowing red as he reacted to her touch.

“Clark.” Calea snapped, cupping his face in her hands and leaning forward.

Clark blinked, his heat vision cooling as he pulled away from her. “I almost hurt you.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You're all right.”

“What are you doing in here?” He frowned, running a hand through his hair.

“I heard your heart rate pick up.” She replied, heaving a sigh. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“It was just a nightmare.” He replied, turning to sit next to her. “I'm sorry for waking you.”

Calea chuckled, smiling softly. “I was already awake.” She assured him. “Nightmares of my own. What were you dreaming about?”

“The same dream I've had since coming back to life.” He sighed, licking his lips. “Dying all over again. Being trapped in my coffin. A deafening darkness.”

Calea narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Walk with me?” She asked, lifting a brow at him as she stood.

Clark stared at her for a moment, then stood up, pulling on his shirt and followed her out. They tiptoed downstairs and out the door, Calea smiled at him, slipping off her robe and walked barefoot into the forest. Tilting his head, Clark curiously followed after her, they didn't speak for a long time, just walking through the quiet darkness of the trees, a light and cool breeze stirring around them, making the tree branches rustle and wave at them as they passed underneath.

“I'm sure you're a good jumper?” She asked, turning to him and smirking.

“You can say that.” He smirked back. “What are we jumping to?” He asked, looking around.

Calea winked at him, crouched and sprang up, vanishing above the trees. Not sparing a moment, he pushed up and followed after the sound of her heart and found her sitting on a plateau, her feet swaying back and forth over the edge.

“I used to come up here, when I needed absolute quiet and I couldn't sleep. It's nearly impossible for anyone, but me, to get up here. So, it's perfect for solitude.” She explained as he sat beside her.

“How did you die?” Calea asked, curiously.

“Bruce and I didn't like each other, when we first met.” He answered, scanning the horizon in front of them. “We didn't see eye to eye on things. I felt his 'brand of justice' wasn't right and attempted to expose him through my job as a Journalist, at the Daily Planet. Bruce already had an issue with me, being an Alien and Superman, he worried that I would turn and try to take over the world. Like some, dark god.”

Calea snorted and shook her head. “Such is the will of Humans. Always worrying about someone, from Earth or otherwise, wanting to be supreme overlord.” She said dramatically, making Clark laugh.

“It is.” He nodded. “Well, we met up as Batman and Superman and nearly leveled half of the city. While in the process, another Human, Lex Luther, managed to break into a scout ship General Zod crashed and raised a Kryptonian monster, he named, Doomsday.”

“Appropriate, if unoriginal.”

Clark snorted, looking down at his hands. “After Doomsday was unleashed, Bruce and I put aside our dislike for each other, with Diana's help, and worked on trying to stop him together. But, everything we and anyone else did, the creature only grew stronger. Since Luther created him in the Scout Ship's Genesis Chamber and his own blood, it was nearly impossible to kill him without..”

“Kryptonite.” Calea nodded, resting back on her elbows.

“You know about it?” Clark frowned, looking at her surprised.

“I'm well over five thousand years old, Clark Kent.” She teased him. “There aren't many Races and their history I don't know about.”

“I've only been around for thirty-four years. So, you've got all that on me.” He replied, laying back with her. “Have you met any other Kryptonians?”

“You're the third Kryptonian, I've ever met.” She answered, staring up at the stars. “I really liked one of them, Zall-Ba, he was part of the Kryptonian Science Guild. He would come to Selion periodically to confer with our scientists, and my parents would host him.” She smiled, recalling him fondly. “I loved listening to him talk about the different sciences with my father. Such spirited and good natured debates.”

She turned her head and looked at him. “You're the last one, the last Kryptonian?”

“I am.” Clark nodded, solemnly. “It blew up, almost forty years ago now.”

“That really sucks. Have you met any other Kryptonians?”

“Oh yeah.” He laughed, his body shaking. “Zod was a Kryptonian General. He had been exiled from Krypton for trying to do a hostile takeover with the rest of his exiled crew. They wanted to kill me and turn Earth into a new Krypton. So, I..” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I had to kill him. He was the first person, whose life I took, and whose body Luther used to help create Doomsday.”

Calea wiggled her body closer to him. “You see that purplish dot?” She asked, pointing up at the sky.

“Mmhm.” Clark nodded, tilting his head towards hers, as he looked up at it.

“That's Selion.” She smiled at him. “That's my home planet. Now, if you go out a few dots,” she moved her finger across the inky and sparkling sky. “That faint red dot, is the star Krypton used to orbit.”

Clark blinked, his body relaxing as he stared up at that teeny, but beautiful, dot. No one had pointed it out to him before. Then again, there hadn't been anyone around that could point out where his birth planet had once been. Now that Calea had, he felt more grounded to where he was in the world. Now, when he was feeling lost and out of place, he knew where to look to bring himself back.

“Thank you.” He whispered, turning his head to look at her.

“You're welcome.” She smiled at him. “It's nice to be able to see home, even if you can't go back.”

“What scares you about trying to help us stop Steppenwolf?” He asked her, suddenly.

Calea sighed and looked back up at the stars. “I don't know.” She whispered, biting her lip. “Losing myself.”

“Losing yourself, how?” Clark frowned.

“I've fought this dark part of myself that wanted to scour the universe for wherever Steppenwolf went, after his defeat, and kill him in the slowest way possible. I want to kill him in a way that would take him years to die from.” She told him, her face and eyes hardening, as the anger she had kept pent up inside for so long, surfaced.

“I want to punch my hand through his chest and slowly squeeze that black hole heart of his, until it's mush in my palm.” She added, making Clark blink at her. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat, catching the look on his face from the corner of her eye.

“I can't say I blame you.” He replied, giving her a soft expression. “I would want to avenge my parents, if I could, had they died like that.” He empathized with her, his hand touching hers as they rested between them.

“I guess you can say, I'm afraid of losing myself, in the attempt to stop him, and not being able to find myself again.”

Clark bit the inside of his lip and nodded at her, he could understand that. “But, you won't know, until you try.” He pointed out to her. “You have to be willing to make that leap of faith.”

“True.” She sighed, pressing her lips together. “I don't know, Clark. But, I'll think about it.”

The Justice League left that morning, without Calea and Ryder, much to their frustrated and dejected dismay.

“I can't believe we wasted all that time.” Arthur rasped as they all entered the Hall of Justice.

“I totally thought she was going to come with us!” Barry said, who was, as usual, stuffing his face with food. “Doing that 'edgy, hold them in suspense' thing. Telling us, she'd come at the last moment.” He mumbled.

“Well, she didn't.” Bruce grunted, running a hand through his hair. “We need to look to other sources for stopping Steppenwolf, since Calea isn't going to help. Victor, do you have anything?”

“Steppenwolf hasn't activated the Mother Boxes, yet.” Victor answered, pacing the room. “But, it's all a matter of time until he does.”

“Do we have any ideas on where he would take the Boxes to activate them?” Diana asked, looking at him.

“I've been actively searching every place and keeping an ear out for any changes, but so far...” He trailed off.

“Nothing.” Bruce sighed, dropping into a chair and rubbing at his face. “He has to show his hand at some point.”

The team broke off to their own areas to work on various things, Steppenwolf related and otherwise. Victor was searching a globe mainframe and scanning all the possible pathways he could for any sign of Steppenwolf and his Para-Demon. Diana went to the training area of the Hall, needing a distraction, Barry found his way to the kitchen, while Bruce talked to Alfred about Wayne Industries and anything he's found about Steppenwolf, and Clark sat down with his laptop to start working on the article he was supposed to have turned into Parry the next day.

“Guys!” Victor yelled out. “I found something!”

“What is it?” Clark asked, setting his laptop aside and joining the team around Victor.

“There's a huge blip of activity here.” He touched a spot on the map and it blew up between them, showing a flashing red dot. “From the readings I'm getting, it has to have something to do with Steppenwolf and his horde.”

“Where?” Diana asked, getting ready.

“Romania.” Victor replied, heading towards the jet. “I'll fly us there.”

“I'll meet you there.” Clark said, all suited up and heading out.

Clark landed a little distance away from the scene that was swarming with Para-Demons, they were all agitated and flapping around one area of the forest, but Clark couldn't pinpoint what it was they were so frantic to get their hands on. His ear twitched, hearing the sound of the League's jet landing several yards behind him and turned around to join them.

“They're looking for something.” He told them, as they stepped off the jet.

“What more could they possibly be looking for?” Diana frowned. “They have all three of the Mother Boxes.”

“I don't know, but they are whipped up into a frenzy for it.” Clark replied, shaking his head. “Shall we get the bug spray out?” He asked, smirking and making the team chuckle.

“Let's do this.”

The team ran and flew through the trees towards the thicket of Para-Demons. It took a moment for the heavily distracted Para-Demons to notice their guests, but after Clark used his heat vision to melt three in half and Diana sliced through another two, the full intensity of the swarm's focus was on the Justice League and a full blown battle commenced.

Bruce used his grappling gun to grapple a Para-Demon, swinging him in a wide arch and swatting several other Para-Demons out of the air, Arthur stabbing them through with his trident. Barry used his speed to push Para-Demons into Diana's sword or Clark's heat vision. Punching a Para-Demon square through the chest, Clark picked up on a muffled sound and scanned the area around him, identifying the opening of a mining shaft. Glancing at his team, Clark zipped into the mine, finding three miners trapped inside and cornered by a pair of Para-Demons, who were drawn by the thick scent of their fear.

“Hey, bug boy.” Clark called, catching their attention. “That's right.” He smirked.

The Para-Demons screeched at him, dragonfly-like wings beating furiously as they took off at Clark.

“Run!” Clark barked at the miners in Romanian, as he deflected one of the Para-Demons.

Not needing to be told twice, the miners tore out of the mine shaft, like bats out of hell. Clark ducked the clawed swipe of one of the demons and shoved the second away from him, pushing him into one of the mine's support beams. The already strained wood buckled and splintered, before collapsing as the Para-Demon recovered and jumped on Clark's back. He grunted as they gave him a front to back assault, but managed to snap the neck of the Para-Demon in front of him and tossed him away, inadvertently breaking another support beam as he reached behind him to grab the last Para-Demon. The rough dome ceiling groaned and crumbled on top of Clark and the Para-Demon, burying them under a massive amount of stone.

It didn't hurt Clark, a mountain swallowing him whole, but it did stun him. The sudden crash of falling rock ringing in his ears, the screech of the Para-Demon being crushed flat, the vile smell and feel of its radioactive green blood oozing all over the back of his black suit and down the side of his neck; the uncomfortable press of rock crushing him down to the ground. But, what got to Clark, was the pitch black darkness, not even his sensitive eyes and heat vision could penetrate it, he could just barely hear the faint and muffled sound of the rest of the Justice League still fighting at the surface, probably unaware of his current situation.

Had this been four months ago, Clark would have easily blasted his way out of the rubble, through the mountain top and into the clear blue skies above. But, his heart started to race and his chest tightened, panic setting in as his mind flashed back to the dark quiet of death and his coffin. He had only been six feet under the first time he was buried, now, he was easily miles below ground. The team would never find him, he'd be trapped there, forever. He would never see his Ma again, never turn in another piece for the Daily Planet. They would all wonder what had become of Superman and Clark Kent.

Had he left them, tired of being their hero and supposed god?

Had he died all over again?

Or was the supposed resurrection of Superman a complete lie, a hoax to garner who knows what?

There was nothing Clark could do, laying there, paralyzed to run darker and darker scenarios in his mind; breathing hard, chest tight and his heart clenched like a hard hand was wrapped around it. Then, a soft sound came to him, he wasn't sure if it was coming from around him or just in his head, but it was there. So soft he couldn't make it out, but it raced down his spine and crackled throughout his limbs, popping in the base of his brain, clearing away all the anxiety that had been washing over him.

His muscles tensing, Clark rocked through the almost endless feeling layers of rock, bursting out the top of the mountain and taking a deep lungful of fresh air as he did.

“Where have you been?” Arthur asked as Clark landed beside him.

“Rescuing some trapped miners.” He replied, not willing to talk about what truly happened. “Did we discover what they were looking for?”

“No.” Bruce replied, appearing out of the treeline, his suit covered in flakes of Para-Demon blood.

“There has to be something.” Diana added in, looking around for any clues.

“Victor, are you picking up on anything?” Bruce asked, turning towards him.

“Nothing.” Victor answered, shaking his head. “Whatever reason they're here, it must be why Steppenwolf hasn't activated the Unity with the Mother Boxes.”

“It's the only thing that makes sense.” Clark commented, frowning. “Let's go back to the Hall, and compile what we know.” He said, and shot off into the sky.

“What happened to him?” Barry asked, looking around the remaining group.

“No idea.” Bruce rasped, concerned, as he watched Clark disappear.

“Clark, are you all right?” Diana called, opening the door to Clark's room in the sleeping quarters of the Hall of Justice. “Clark.” She called softer, as he jerked and twisted in his bed, trapped in a night terror.

Frowning, Diana rested her hand on his tense back, only for Clark's thick arm to fly out and swat her across the room, and nearly through the wall. Clark rose up, body still tense as he turned to face her, his eyes glowing red hot. Diana tensed, ready to defend herself, but the door flew open and a blur moved past Diana. Grabbing Clark by the shoulders and twisting him around, they ducked, as Clark unleashed the beams of his heat vision, through the bedroom window.

“Clark, wake up!”

“Calea!” Bruce's voice yelled from the door, as he and the others ran in, hearing the commotion. “What are you doing here?”

“Clark, no!” She barked as he turned to him and growled.

Calea grasped Clark's arms tighter as he tried to move towards Bruce, snarling at him. Dropping down to a squat and throwing herself backwards, Calea tossed Clark over her body and through the wall, sending him skidding across the back lawn of the Hall of Justice grounds.

“What are you doing here?” Bruce asked, looking at her astonished.

“Well, I came to tell you, I changed my mind and want to help.” Calea answered, panting. “But, I heard a crash and came to investigate, finding Clark had thrown Diana into a wall and about to mel-” She tried to explain, just as Clark came jetting through the hole his body made and collided with her.

Both of them spiraled through several walls, before Calea was able to gain traction and push back against Clark, slowing him down considerably. Their muscles strained against each other, she groaned and took deep breaths, just barely holding him back, teeth gritted. Releasing enough of her push against him, Calea drove her knee into his stomach, driving him back again, both of them dropping to the floor, feet first.

“Clark, please.” She begged him. “You're having a waking nightmare, Clark. Whatever you're thinking, it isn't real.” She tried to reason with him, holding a hand out to him.

Growling, Clark drew in a deep breath, his bare chest swelling.

“Please, don't do this, Clark.” Calea pleaded with him. “Please, don't do this.”

Clark let out a blast of cold breath, that would have made Antarctica feel like Hawaii. Calea gasped, doubled over to shield herself, her warm breath coming out in a frosty mist. She squeezed her eyes shut and her hands into fists, the lights around the hall, and even out on the street, flickered and blinked rapidly, several bulbs popped and shattered. Calea stood up straight, her eyes glowing bright blue with crackling bolts of electricity around the corners of her eyelids. Bending her arms at the elbows, hands up and her open palms faced out towards Clark, she sent out a strong bubble of energy towards him, stopping the flow of his frosty breath and sent him staggering backwards several steps.

Snapping forward, Calea grabbed Clark by the face, her face and body returning to normal as she whispered his name. “Kal.”

“He won't let me rest.” Clark whimpered, brow creased.

Calea's eyes rose to Bruce as he and the rest of the group stood in one of the gaping holes they left behind. She brought her mouth close to Clark's ear. “I'll let you rest, Kal-El.” She cooed to him, stroking the nape of his neck and hairline.

His arms snaked around her waist and his head dropped heavily on her shoulder, his breathing light and even against the skin of her neck. Bruce and Arthur picked their way through the rubble to help Calea get Clark back to a room that was still all in one piece.

“How did you do that?” Bruce asked, standing next Calea as she sat beside Clark's bed. “You stopped him. You almost matched him.”

“I'm a Prime Selian.” Calea sighed, rubbing her tired face. “It's--” she shook her head, trying to find the words. “It's my people's version of Superman.” She gave in. “A tortoise is always a turtle, but a turtle isn't always a tortoise.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Bruce frowned, shaking his head.

“Prime Selians are always Selians, but Selians aren't always Prime.” She groaned, too tired to give the Human a history lesson. “We never understood what caused it, but some Selians, when they were born, were far more advanced and enhanced the rest of us; stronger, more stamina and endurance, so on. You know your child is a Prime Selian in only one way.” She said, standing up and removing her jacket.

“Their markings.”

A line of blue runes lit up and raced over Calea's arm to her shoulder. Bruce studied them, reaching out and carefully touching them, he could feel the hum of power in them, charging Calea's body up with power; he found it fascinating.

“I am a Royal Prime Selian, which is basically an Alpha, in terms you would understand.”

“What is it that makes you more different?”

“The Royal Blood of Selion is pure.” Calea replied, sitting back down. “Was pure. Not like other Selians that might fall in love and have kids with other Races around the galaxy. There were two Royal houses of Selion, my mother's and my Father's. They were never related, but they would marry one another and have kids.”

“How does that even work?”

Calea laughed. “I matured, when I turned a thousand years old, Mr. Wayne.” She smiled. “I've looked just as you see me now, for the last four thousand years. The 'peak' of our lives, unlike Humans and many other Races, never changes, only we change. Only we decide we no longer wish to produce children. So, my mother's parents, who looked no older than you,” She snorted at him, teasingly. “kept producing children. As did my father's parents, and when a pair of them reached maturity, they would marry and so on.”

Bruce looked blankly at her.

“I know, it's horribly complicated and there's always an easier way, but that's the way they chose to do it. For thousands of years. While still managing to keep track of the line of succession. I was the first Prime Selian, in almost two hundred years, I'm the only female Prime Selian ever known to our history.”

“Not to mention the only Royal one.” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“Especially, then.” She smiled back at him, her eyes drifted back to Clark as he started to fuss in his sleep again.

“I should go.” Bruce said, shifting uncomfortably. “I'd rather him see your face first, than mine. He's less likely to punch it, and I have a mess to clean up.”

“I am sorry about that.” Calea frowned at his back.

“It's all right.” He smiled, turning back to her. “I'm rich, it just looks like a scratch to me.”

Calea snorted as Bruce went out, then slid herself and her chair closer to Clark's bedside. “Hey, you're all right, Clark.” She cooed at him, squeezing his hand and rubbing his forearm. “Whoa!” She gasped, when Clark shot up in bed.

“It was just a dream.”

“Calea?” He gasped and frowned at her, brows furrowed. “What—am I?”

“You're awake and alive.” She smiled at him.

“What happened?” He groaned, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. “Why are you here?”

“To the latter, I changed my mind and want to help.” She told him, softly. “To the former, you had a night terror.”

“A what?” Clark sighed, shaking his head and glanced around.

“You were having a nightmare, a waking one. You nearly sent Diana through a wall.”

Clark's head snapped back to Calea. “Is she all right?”

“She's fine.” Calea assured him. “Typical Diana and all.”

“I hope I didn't make too much of a mess.”

“Well,” She snorted, looking down at her feet and smirked. “We made a mess.” She replied. “You tried melting her with your heat vision, then you saw Bruce and started after him, so I..uh..threw you out a window.”

“You threw me out a window?”

“You're not that heavy.” She chuckled, brushing her hair behind her ear. “But, you did pay me back for it. I'm not entirely sure how we didn't level the whole building.” She commented glancing around, expecting it to suddenly collapse on top of them.

“Your frost breath is extremely cold, by the way.”

“I'm so sorry.” Clark sighed, raking a hand through his disheveled curls.

“What happened, Clark?” She asked, concerned for him.

Clark rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. “We found a swarm of Para-Demons in Romania. They were looking for something, we didn't find what it was they were after. But, a couple of miners got trapped inside a mine by a pair of Para-Demons, so I went into the shaft to save them. I knocked out the support beams and the shaft fell in on me.” He explained to her, his mind flashing back to it.

“It was--” He closed his eyes. “Dark and quiet, cool. Like, when I was dead. I was crushed more by the anxiety of being trapped in another coffin, than I was by the thousands of tons of mountain on top of me. I couldn't move and could barely use any of my powers to free myself, convinced I was going to die there, and no one would find me or care that I was gone.”

“But, you got out.” Calea cooed at him, soothingly.

“Because of something I heard.” He replied, he could still hear it in his mind. “A small sound and all the anxiety went away, allowing me to free myself.”

“You have PTSD.” She replied, lightly.

“I'm an Alien.”

“And?” Calea countered, brows drawn down and eyes wide. “PTSD is a mental and emotional state. Anything capable of thinking and feeling, is more than unfortunate in possibly suffering from it.”

“And you speak from experience.”

“I do.” She nodded. “For a very long time. You said the Para-Demons were looking for something in Romania.” She asked, sensing Clark's need for a change in subject.

“Yes, but we don't know what or why.”

“Hm.” Calea hummed, frowning.

“We think it's why Steppenwolf hasn't unleashed the Mother Boxes yet.” He explained.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

“Not to intrude.” Barry said, a hand pressed over his eyes.

Calea and Clark looked at each other, smirking, and rolled their eyes at him.

“What is it, Barry?” Clark asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Victor has something he wants us all to see.” Barry replied, peeking through his fingers at them.

“We'll meet you down there.” Clark told him, standing up.

“Nice to see you again, Calea.” Barry said, smiling and blushing at her.

“You too, Barry.” She smirked, chuckling as he blushed even harder. “What do you think it is?”

“I'm not sure. But, I am sure, it's related to Steppenwolf.” Clark answered, showing her the way down to the labs.

They joined the rest of the team and saw what it was Victor had to show them. Trapped inside a protective cell and beating its hands against the thick glass, was a Para-Demon. Screeching so loud, that everyone winced. Victor had managed to capture the creature and content it in its current jail. Beams of multi-colored lights scanned all sides of the tube, reading as much information they could about the creature; various monitors flashing and beeping in unison with them.

“You captured a Para-Demon.” Diana said, in disbelief. “How?”

“It wasn't easy, believe me.” Victor replied, smirking at her. “I thought, if we could get our hands on one and run some tests on it, we could find out more about Steppenwolf and his plans.”

“Any luck?” Bruce asked, folding his arms over his chest as he squinted at the creature.

“Nothing so far, my scans just started.”

“I have something that I want to see how it reacts too.” Bruce said, moving over to a work table and picked up a chunky black device. “I found out a few weeks ago, after encountering a Para-Demon on the top of a building in Gotham, there's a high frequency sound that agitates them. It came off a building's security alarm.” He explained, stepping closer to the encapsulated creature with the device.

Bruce flipped the device on and a loud wailing and whirling screech filled the room, making everyone grimace and plug their ears. The Para-Demon screamed along with the siren-like noise, withering in agony as it desperately tried to escape its cell, obviously to no avail. Calea whimpered, her ears felt like they were bleeding. She shook her head, trying to lessen the pain throbbing through her skull, the Para-Demon's screeches pulsed through her brain, making her eyes hurt and blur.

“D-De-” A sketchy and raspy voice clawed at Calea's brain, like scrapping steel wool and red hot pokers. “De-Defas Se-vit.” The words echoed in her skull.

“Defas Sevit.”

“Help me.” Calea whimpered back.

“Defas Miresa.”

“Help us.” She echoed back.

“Calea?” Clark groaned, grasping her arm as she stumbled. “Turning off!” He snapped at Bruce. “Turn the damn thing off!” He hissed, maneuvering Calea into a chair.

Bruce quickly switched the device off, the silence more deafening than the sound it made. They crowded around Calea, Diana sent Barry zooming out for a glass of water, as they tried to make sure she was all right.

“Help me. Help us. Help me. Help us.” Calea kept repeating, pressing her fists to her temples.

“Who, Calea?” Clark frowned, kneeling beside her and shook his head. “Who needs help?”

Calea shook her head hard, trying to dislodge the voice in her head. “I don't know.” She panted, taking the glass from Barry and downing it in one go. “I don't know.” She gasped, pressing her fingertips into her throbbing and watering eyes.

“I don't know.”

“It's all right, just relax.” Clark replied, rubbing her arm.

Victor looked between Calea and the Para-Demon, calculating. “You heard it.” He said, suddenly. “You actually heard the Para-Demon.”

“That's impossible.” Diana shook her head at him.

“There's only one way to find out.” Arthur commented, lifting a brow.

“Absolutely not.” Ryder's voice boomed from the doorway. “You are not putting her through that again.” He hissed.

“I'm starting to wonder if I should just forego the security systems in my buildings.” Bruce sighed, shaking his head.

“How did you find her?”

“It's my job to keep track of her.” Ryder growled, moving over to Calea and checking her out. “Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?” He chided her.

“I don't need your permission to do things, Ryder.” She replied, rolling her eyes and shaking him off.

Standing up, Calea moved to stand in front of the trapped Para-Demon, unflinching as it gnashed its sharp teeth at her, going wild against the tempered glass. She pressed her hands and forehead to the glass.

“Lusnet uda ecto.” She whispered, holding the creature's eyes.

“What is she saying?” Barry asked, looking around the room.

“I can hear you.” Ryder translated. “It's Solean, Ancient Solean, at that.”

The Para-Demon's screeches faltered for a moment, before recovering and going wild again. Sighing, Calea turned around and looked at the group. “Turn it back on.” She said to Bruce. “It's the only way for it to answer me.”

“I don't think this is a good idea.” Diana protested, shaking her head. “We saw what happened the last time we messed with something we didn't understand.”

“Clark nearly wiped the entire planet out.” Arthur agreed.

“Yeah, but as bad as that was, he ended up just fine.” Barry argued.

“Barely.” Victor huffed.

Growling, Calea shot forward and snatched the device from Bruce's hand, turning it back on as she refocused on the Para-Demon. “Let's see what you got to say, bug boy.” She hissed, gritting her teeth against the sound.

“I can hear you. Tell me what you know.”

The Para-Demon shook its head, pressing its back to the other side of the cage. “Help me. Help us.” It hissed in agony.

“How?” Calea whined back, a bubble of pain in the base of her skull made her feel cold. “Tell me!” She yelled, eyes glowing blue.

The air in the lab changed, the hairs on everyone's bodies stood erect and on end, the Para-Demon snapped forward, colliding with the grass in a dull thud, but Calea still didn't move or change, their eyes only the thickness of the glass apart.

“Princess Calea Stormborn of Fallborn.” It spoke in a slurping hiss, that echoed in her mind.

“You know me?”

“Of course, I was once Kulas of Everhaven.”

“You were a Selian.” She let out in a startled gasp.

“We all once were.” He choked, head twisting and jerking to the side with stomach turning crunches. “Steppenwolf's most advanced Para-Demons were all once Selians. He turned us into his most perfect and effective soldiers, as a penalty for not giving over the Boxes.”

“And now, he has them.” Calea sighed, shaking her head. “What is he looking for in Romania?”

“The--” His head smashed against the glass, startling Calea back a step. “My bloo-” He rasped, pounding his forehead against the glass several more times, neon green blood dripping down his ashen face and splattered on the cracking glass. “Will tell you.”

With one more solid smash, the Para-Demon's neck snapped and he felt limp to the bottom of his cage. Ryder snatched the still screaming device out of her hand and smashed it against the wall, ears ringing. Looking around, Calea spotted a small, half empty bottle of Tropicana apple juice and grabbed it, unscrewing the lid and dumping it out on the floor.

“Hey, that was mine!” Barry protested, his mouth dropping open. “Rude.” He pouted.

Calea squatted down and held the empty bottle under the cage, catching the green ooze as it dripped from the grated floor. Almost full, she stood back up, looking at it at half an arm's length, curious how it would tell her anything about what Steppenwolf was searching for Romania. That was so important, it would delay his plans for the Unity of the Mother Boxes.

“Oh, that is so gross.” Barry grimaced, swallowing.

“He said, his blood would tell me what Steppenwolf was looking for.” Calea said, ignoring Barry and still staring at the container of blood.

“We can run it through a couple of my scanners.” Victor said, stepping up to one of the control consoles and hurriedly typed on its keyboard. “Put some of it in right there.” He told Calea, pointing to a centrifuge-like device.

Calea poured some of the Para-Demon's blood into the device's chamber and closed the lid. It started out slow, but eventually spun at a fast rate, the compounds of the blood separating into different chambers and making a variety of glowing lights flash around it and on the monitor in front of Victor.

“There are dozens of isotopes in this creature's blood, some that can't even be identified.” He said, shaking his head. “There's almost zero plasma as well. But, I don't see anything that can be a clue or hint to what Steppenwolf is up to.”

“Whoa!” Arthur snapped, grossed out as Calea touched the bottle to her lips.

“Calea, no!” Ryder barked, but it was too late, she had already started chugging it down. “What have you done!”

“Something stupid, I'm sure.” She replied, smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, the thick metallic and bitter taste of the blood on her taste buds.

“This girl's nuts.” Arthur laughed, grinning. “I dig it.”

“Oh.” She groaned and grunted, doubling over as sharp pains spiked through her chest and stomach.

“Stupid in-fucking-deed.” Ryder hissed, resting his hands on her.

“Stop babying me.” Calea hissed back, eyes glowing a blue-green color.

“Oh shit, the blood is affecting her.” Victor gasped, shocked.

“Calea.” Clark panted, watching the change come over her, her body shivering in pain and the blood's affect.

Her mouth fell open and she gasped, eyes going huge. Making a choking noise, Calea's eye rolled into the back of her head and she fell limply to the floor. Clark nearly shoved everyone away from her and picked her up into his arms.

“Her heart is slowing.” He frowned, scanning her.

“She's dying.” Diana whispered, astounded and horrified.

“No.” Clark whimpered, hugging her tight against his body and rocketing out of the Hall.

“Why couldn't he have just used the door?” Bruce groaned, as they glanced up through the massive hole he left behind.

“Where's he taking her?” Ryder demanded, snarling at the League.

“How are we to know?” Arthur huffed back at him. “Aren't you the one that's supposed to be keeping track of her?”

Clark landed in front of Calea's home in the forest, her heart even slower than it was at the Hall. “Hold on, Calea.” He murmured to her, carrying her inside and down the lift to the Sol-Gel chamber.

He carefully laid her down and grabbed the black mask that helped her breathe in the Sol-Gel and put it on her, before gently easing her into the Gel. Clark didn't understand any of the equipment that maintained the whole system of Sol-Gel, so he wasn't at all sure how to make it work, or tell if it was working already. He stood beside the chamber and glanced at the back of his hand, turning it over to look at his palm, an idea striking him. Biting his lip, Clark plunged his hands into the Gel, pushing up the sleeves of Calea's jacket and gripping her bare upper arms, the electric current that always sparked between their skin made the hair all over Clark's body stand and charged the Gel.

Calea's heart suddenly started to beat stronger.

Relieved, she'd be all right, hopefully. Clark pulled away from her, wiping the Gel off of his arms and paced the room. He felt agitated as he moved around the room, touching things, picking them up and putting them back down, trying to calm himself and reassure his nerves that she would be more than fine now that she was back in the protection of the Sol-Gel. But, Clark wasn't completely satisfied or comforted by that fact.

So, he did something that was more than likely, irrational.

It was an amazingly beautiful day in Selion, the native mint sparrows twittering and zooming about, trying to catch flying insects. The rays of the white sun shielded by a few puffy clouds, letting out a pleasant warmth. The air was a buzz with bees lighting on wildflowers, that gave the clear and fresh air an alluring and soothing fragrance.

Calea could feel the soft blades of wild grass under her bare feet and closed her eyes, nothing felt better than being back home, especially when you've been homesick for thousands of years. She paused and dipped her cupped hands into a small babbling stream beside her, lifting them to her lips and took a deep drink, the clean and cold water tasted sweet and refreshing to her taste buds and senses. Glancing around, Calea made her way through the streets towards home and smiled seeing it, shining in the high afternoon sun.

“Mama!” She called out, voice echoing in the grand halls. “Papa?”

She received no answer, but she could hear the echo of voices, and followed it. The sounds led her into the banquet hall and her blood ran cold before she even entered the vast room. A group of hissing and screeching Para-Demons stood menacingly behind, none other than, Steppenwolf. Her mother and father stood in the hall with several of the house's servants cowering on the floor.

“No!” Calea screamed and ran at them, but she skid through them, like a ghost.

“Where are the Boxes!” Steppenwolf growled, pointing his Electro Axe at them.

“We will never tell you!” Her mother, Solea, hissed back at him.

“Oh, I think you will.” Steppenwolf grinned, raising his Axe and striking one of the servants, taking their head clean off. “I will either kill every Selian on this planet or turn them into my Para-Demons, until you tell me where you've sent the Mother Boxes.” He threatened.

“Then, that is what you will do.” Calien replied, standing strong.

Steppenwolf roared in fury and hacked his way through the servants, several turning into Para-Demons, while others had a more fortunate fate in death. He brought in more and more people into the banquet hall, giving the King and Queen countless opportunities to tell him where the Mother Boxes had been sent, but Calien and Solea never budged or spoke up, watching Steppenwolf ravage their people. It wasn't long though, that one of the Selians brought into the Hall spoke up.

“Please, please!” They begged, slipping on the massive puddle of blood covering the floor. “I don't want to die! I have a family! I'll tell you where the Boxes are.”

“Finally, someone with a shed of intelligence.” Steppenwolf smirked. “Tell me where they are.”

“They're no longer on the planet.”

“Adas!” Calien barked, veins bulging in his neck.

“Then, where are they?” Steppenwolf asked, ignoring the enraged King.

“They've been taken off of the planet.” Adas trembled, looking between Calien and Steppenwolf.

“Is that so?” Steppenwolf rasped, eyeing Solea and Calien.

“They've been taken to--”

A scream rang out in the hall and a crackling bolt of electricity struck Adas, his body trembling as the massive surge coursed through him. Calien released the flow of electricity with an exhausted gasp, shoulders slumping as his energy drained. Solea wrapped her arms around her husband, supporting him as Adas's body dropped to the floor; dead. Steppenwolf shoved everyone aside, grabbing Calien by the throat and holding him off the ground.

“I will find everything for my Mother Boxes, with or without your help, Selian.” Steppenwolf rasped, tightening his hand around Calien's throat more and more. “And your planet will be the first of many to crumble.” He said, letting out a rumbling laugh.

“Papa, no!” Calea cried, watching as Steppenwolf killed her father, tears streaming down her face.

Laughing, Steppenwolf turned on his heels and left the hall. Solea cradled Calien's head in her lap, rocking back and forth as she wailed and sobbed. One of the servants crawled across the bloody floor towards her Queen, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and rocking with her, crying into her neck.

“He will never find what he seeks, never.” Solea wept, stoically. “I thank the gods my sweet girl is safe away from this place.”

“What is he looking for?” The Servant asked.

Solea seemingly met Calea's eyes as she answered the question.

Ryder barged into the house with Bruce and Diana, it was the only conceivable place for Clark to take Calea in the condition she was in when he took her from the Hall of Justice. The ride down in the lift felt longer than the flight from Gotham, and their mouths dropped open, when they finally got off the lift.

“He's taken the Sol-Gel Chamber.” Ryder growled, picking up a chair and sent it crashing into a wall. “He's not only taken Calea with her life in danger, he's stolen the Sol-Gel. Where could have gone with them?” He hissed, getting into Bruce's face.

“I don't know!” Bruce snapped, taking a step back.

“Ryder, calm down.” Diana sighed, pressing her hand against his chest. “If Clark has taken the Chamber, then it means he's put Calea in it, to try and save her.”

“How!” Ryder roared, face beet red. “All the equipment that controls the Gel is still here and even if it wasn't, he doesn't know how to use it.”

“Clark wouldn't do anything to harm or endanger her.” Bruce growled at him, offended by Ryder's disrespect of his friend.

“Oh yeah?” He replied, throwing his arms out and motioning around the room. “The one place she was the safest, he's taken her from.”

“We'll find them.” Diana told him, trying to cool off the situation before Bruce and Ryder came to blows.

-- Part III --

[unpack-my-heart]

Under the stars and missing each other for reddie...only if you want to💗

omg this is probably half a year late but here we go!!

The first time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, it was a rainy Tuesday afternoon in January and he was drunk on a fermenting promise to himself that never came true. He was nineteen years old, old enough to know better but young enough that reckless decisions could still be dismissed as the recklessness of a youth not yet over. When he’d told the others he was going to leave, the phone crackling wildly under the strain of their seven way phone call, they’d whooped loudly, cheering a victory that he hadn’t won yet.

“I knew this would be the year you left, Eds! I could feel it in my dick”

Fucking gross.

After he’d chewed Richie out for being crude, he’d remained silent for a very long time, listening to the others babble excitedly about how great emancipation felt, how the air had never tasted sweeter than the day they’d left Derry and never looked back. He’d planned to leave, he’d always meant to leave, got as far as having his bags packed on no less than four separate occasions over the last six months, but something held him back, an invisible red tether that cut deep welts into his heart, and it tightened viciously every time he so much as thought about shutting the creaky old door behind him for the last time.

His mother tugged on the tether, and reminded Eddie that his wings had been clipped a long time ago.

When Richie left Derry, nearly two years ago, Eddie hadn’t cried. Not in public, not so that Richie could see it. Richie had cried, great heaving sobs that choked his voice and dampened the soft jersey of Eddie’s favourite sweater. He’d cried on Eddie’s shoulder for a long, long time, but Eddie’s eyes remained firmly, petulantly dry. They’d remained dry when Richie had told him that, out of all the Losers, out of all the people he’d ever met and even the people he hadn’t, his Eds was his favourite. They’d remained dry when he’d watched Richie shove his guitars and the half-broken metal box full of old mixtapes into his half-broken old car that wheezed almost as much as Eddie did. They’d remained dry as he watched Richie drive mouse-slow out of the drive way, hollering out of the window, “I’ll never forget you, Eds! Not ever! I’ll always remember you and those fucking shorts!”

The shorts remained folded away in the back of his wardrobe, unworn.

Eddie didn’t leave.

The second time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he was twenty-four years old, and working full-time at the pharmacy that he’d spent so many wasted hours in over the years, queueing up dutifully, waiting for the prescription to be filled, always jittering on the spot. He’d hop from foot to foot, wondering whether these pills would stop the throbbing in his heart and the mocking voice in his head, “you’re cracked you’re damaged you’re ruined”. So many years and so many sugar pills, enough to make his stomach churn and his teeth itch. The pharmacy was much the same, aisles of dandruff shampoo and cough syrup, and he spent his days drumming his fingers on the counter, each pound of each pad against the dull white surface a declaration, a plea.

“You’re never going to leave if you don’t do it now. Rip the band-aid off, Eds, and stop being such a fucking pussy.”

Richie was right, in that very frustrating way that Richie was always, always, right, especially when it came to Eddie and his pathological tendency to self-sabotage himself into oblivion. Rather than grasp his life in both hands, a fragile little thing that needed nurturing, Eddie instead condemned it to a solemn existence of self-hatred and apathy, all the while staring at the little white sugar pills that he’d taken for so long, lined up neatly in piss-coloured plastic bottles on the shelves of the pharmacy.

He packs his bag with all the gusto he can manage that evening, shoving t-shirts and pressed chinos into an old rucksack with wild abandon, until he stops. He stops, and he stares at the bag, really stares at it, and he realises it’s wrong. He hasn’t packed his favourite books, the movie ticket stubs he’d saved from when Richie took him to see the new Star Wars and Eddie had complained bitterly about how boring it was, how stupid the entire thing was, and he’d annoyed Richie so much that Richie had dragged him out by the arm and they’d gone for burgers instead. There was no room for his favourite shoes, the sweater with the holes in it that Bev had leant him when he was cold and then given to him because the purple made the green in his eyes shine brightly, a freshly cut lawn on a summer morning.

Eddie emptied the contents of the bag onto the floor, and stepped over it. Tomorrow, he assured himself, tomorrow he’d leave. Tomorrow.

Eddie didn’t leave.

The third time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he was thirty-three years old and he couldn’t remember why California called his name so loudly, why its sirens call echoed across the country, beckoning, seducing him with its call. California, a nihilistic melting pot of overworked and underpaid wage slaves who bowed to the corporate bell and submitted themselves to the scrutinising eye of the Silicon Valley start-ups. Surely there was nothing for Eddie there, a pharmacist with two degrees under his belt but no actual understanding of how the world works beyond the safe confines of his small town existence. Highways, supermarkets with more than ten aisles, electric cars, save the turtles, sandals in winter, and heatstroke in summer, sweat on your upper lip and tan lines on your knees. California.

His phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Is this Eds? Eds Kaspbrak?”

“Don’t call me that. Who is this?”

“Uh, it’s Richie?”

A question, not a statement, as if the caller is asking, ‘is it okay that this is Richie?’

“Richie? Richie who?”

“I thought you’d say that.”

A pause that stretches like tar, sticky and black.

“Oh Shit!”

Eddie remembered. He remembered a tangled mop of dark brown hair, he remembered bucked teeth and freckles that skate across skin like sand in the wind, he remembered the lisp, and the gangly limbs that hung awkwardly, gorilla limbs that were too long, too grabby, too energetic.

“Richie fucking Tozier”

“The one and only! Gonna be honest, Eds, I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t pick up, that some housewife would answer all, ‘he doesn’t live here anymore’, but … here you are”

“Here I am.”

“Still there.”

“Still here,” Eddie confirmed, and his gut trembled with the sort of embarrassment that hangs low and heavy in the air like smoke.

“I’m in California, got a sweet little place on the oceanfront if you ever … y’know …”

Oh. There it is. The static that had been buzzing around Eddie’s brain when he thought of California, the angry bees that stung him for not remembering finally relented, finally dropped down dead, because Richie’s on the other end of the phone, still lisping, voice a little deeper and a little hoarser, but Eddie had  remembered.

“Ocean front, you say?”

The most reckless thing Eddie had done before this was leave the house during a torrential rainstorm with an only shower proof coat, knowing full well that the long fingers of Flu would be tapping at his arm in the morning. Now, here he is, sat in a tacky sea-food restaurant with someone he hasn’t seen for over a decade, and he’s drunk. Not too drunk, he can still see without his vision blurring, and he can still count all the freckles that litter Richie’s face, and he can still wonder whether these are new freckles, or whether these are the same freckles he used to stare at when they were lying in the quarry, sunning themselves like heat-starved reptiles.  

But, nevertheless, here he is, stuffing paella into his face with one hand and with the other waving wildly in the air as he talks through bites of rice.

“Do you remember when you got kicked out of band?”

Richie groans, wounded.

“Don’t fucking remind me, I was washing that fucking yellow paint out of my hair for at least three years after that.”

“I’ll never forget the look on Mike’s face, he was so ready to beat the absolute living shit out of you!” Eddie brayed, stray pieces of rice escaping his mouth as he spoke, disgusting but in the dim light of the restaurant, Eddie didn’t care.

The wind whips Eddie��s face when they stagger out of the restaurant three hours and ninety dollars later, and Richie grabs him by the chin roughly.

“You never left, did you?”

“You know I fuckin’ didn’t”

“I shouldn’t have left without you, I never should have left you there.”

Eddie pushed at Richie, gentle enough not to hurt. “It wouldn’t have made a difference, Rich. I’ve grown roots, I’m … I’m stuck there, like one of those plants that dies in the winter but is back again in summer. All I would have done is dragged you down with me.”

Richie readjusted his grip on Eddie’s chin, and tipped Eddie’s head up, so he was looking directly into Richie’s eyes.

“I nearly kissed you when I left,” Richie said, the alcohol swimming in his veins dimming his inhibitions, if only for these few snatched moments. “I really nearly did, but you looked so …”

“So what?”

“You didn’t cry.”

Eddie blinked. “I cried every day for a month after you left, Rich. I cried so much my mother sent me to the fucking doctor because she thought I had hysteria.”

Richie barked out a laugh, a sad wet sound that sounded more like a sob, “I left you.”

Eddie pushed his face up, out of Richie’s grip, and pushed his lips against Richie’s quivering ones. The kiss is small, timid, and Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and clung.

It didn’t last long, Richie was crying too much for it to be the storybook cliché that Eddie had so desperately hoped that it would be.

The next day, Eddie left.

The fourth time Eddie decided to leave for the bright lights of the big city, he left, and never looked back.

@tinyarmedtrex @xandertheundead @lifesucksheres20bucks @moonlightrichie @toziesque @violetreddie @eds-trashmouth @oldguybones

[puttingfingerstokeys]

how come cassie gets two dads?

So @sxvethelastdance and I have had more than a few conversations vis a vis Raiden being like, thunder dad, and ofc Johnny being like a fantastic father and like, how much Faraday Cage (Johnny/Raiden) was an expression of tired fathers helping each other back to like... some semblance of okay-ness... which ofc is embodied in a friend in need but like, what’re some of the more humorous aspects of Raiden sort of... becoming part of the Cage family? This one isn’t HILARIOUS but it’s a little chuckle worthy.

Ft. Cassie, Raiden, and Johnny (mentions of Liu Kang)

light Faraday Cage, implied Caged Heat 

Broken Timeline (echoes of prevented timeline tho!)

“Cassandra Cage.” 

Cassie nearly jumps out of her skin, and the hair on the back of her neck is decidedly standing on end. She whirls, body tense, despite knowing who is addressing her and being otherwise accustomed to his presence in her father’s home. 

Of late, the god of thunder—well, she supposes he isn’t technically a god anymore, after what had happened with Liu Kang, but he still appears in lightning bolts and his eyes still have that freaky-ass glow—has made himself a semi-permanent fixture around the Cage house. She is glad for it, because the place had started to become desolate and empty without her mother, even if it had been years since Sonya lived with her father. It’s the knowing, Cassie assumes, that makes it hard.

“Jesus H Christ on a FUCKIN’ bike!” The hiss is hoarse, good-natured, but betraying the thumping of her heart. Raiden chuckles and shakes his head, clearly amused by the display. 

“I am not your Earthrealm messiah—perhaps Lord Liu Kang would be a better fit in that role,” he says after a moment, stepping into the room. His eyes, unreadable to most, but never to the Cages, rest upon her only a moment before drifting over her shoulder to the window behind and the back lawn, where Johnny seems to be tinkering with a round, flat platform made of undetermined material—it is clearly heavy, but he has not given up on his quest… whatever that entails. 

“So what’s up? Dad’s outside, messin’ around with… well a landing pad for you, actually.” Cassie sets the pile of magazines aside which she had been transporting to the recycling bin, frustrated with herself and her babbling. There is something about Raiden that brings forth a gush of words, and not the usual, sharp ones which suggest she is in any way in control of her speech patterns. She regards the vacuum cleaner, sitting off to one side, pointing her irked gaze toward it, rather than Raiden. 

A Roomba is hard at work behind the couch in the area just before the foyer. The place is shaping up, almost gleaming, and Raiden is glad to see its emerging cleanliness. Cassie has clearly been matching the Roomba blow for blow in the rest of the house. Raiden only half wonders after the occasion. Earthrealm people have so many celebrations that it is, admittedly, difficult to keep track, though he suspects it is Johnny’s birthday. 

“I see that.” The material of the platform with which the elder Cage is struggling, Raiden decides, must be a thick, vulcanized rubber composite. Johnny has expressed in the past his displeasure at the burn marks upon the lawn, though always in good humor. Evidently now he has made moves to prevent it. “But I am not here to speak with your father, Cassandra Cage.” 

“Mmkay, so… with me, then? Do I need to like, kneel or… siddown or?” She doesn’t know the proper protocol to speak with a god or… emissary or whatever he is, though she has chatted fairly casually with Raiden on multiple occasions; this seems to be a little heavier and they are not on the brink of multi-realm war. “Oh uh—shit, do you want a seat?” 

She clears another stack of magazines from the sofa and gestures. The divine nods and expresses his thanks, seating himself and finally ceasing his habit of towering over everyone in the room. Cassie plops herself on yet another chair then jumps up with a start. “FUCK!” She pulls a deflated whoopie cushion out from under her rear and tosses into a pile that deserves a neon sign reading “trash”. 

Raiden chuckles. “Another of your father’s mementos?” 

“Some’n like that,” she grunts, then straightens, as if recalling to whom she is speaking. Cassie respects Raiden, though she has not nearly so much experience with him as her father and late mother, or Liu Kang, who’s evidently some kind of titan-god-human hybrid thing now. She’s not clear on the logistics of that one, but it’s fine and probably above her pay grade in either case. “Anyway, what’s up?” Smooth, Cassie, just ask the literal embodiment of lightning ‘what’s up’ again. Nice.

“I wanted to express my condolences properly… for your mother and… my apologies on behalf of my older self—my… uglier self.” He shakes his head, sighing, wide shoulders sagging. The hat obscures his face, but she can read his expression via body language. Raiden is heartbroken. “Sonya Blade was a powerful, honorable, worthy representative of Earthrealm and all for which we stand—and she is… she was your mother and—” 

“And she put up with dad, so that prolly makes her worthy of canonization—do y’all do that? Canonize folks? I mean that’s kinda what happened to Liu, right?” She, like her father, speaks over her pain, willing it to flee before her mighty voice. But it still hurts. Like Cassie can read Raiden, Raiden can read Cassie. She, by his estimate, is currently wishing she did not feel the compulsion to speak so loquaciously or frankly with him.

“She is worthy of a great many honors—I only wish that I had been a better person to honor her, a better friend. What I said… It was unkind and thoughtless. She did die with honor, but I… hate that she died at all.” His hands are folded in his lap, his face a stern mask. He is holding together well, due most likely to millennia of practice. Cassie has always imagined his forays into the world of the Elder Gods to be exercises in his own patience and humility, if they’re anything like how Johnny has envisioned them. She trusts her father’s perspective on the subject. He knows a few things about shitty parents, after all. “I am very sorry. Please, accept my apologies.” 

Cassie stands, then, and, in a burst of boldness not unlike her father’s, she seats herself on the couch next to Raiden—at a respectful distance, of course, but close enough to shift her body so she is facing him and her left knee nearly comes into contact with his right. 

She can feel from here that peculiar electrical field her father once described to her when he had downed perhaps one too many beers and it is, in a word, immense. This isn’t even his final form, she thinks almost flippantly. The laughter threatens, but only in that hysterical way it sometimes does at funerals or other somber, church-related events. She reaches out to place one hand atop both of his and finds them, as well, to be immense. Her heart jackhammers for a moment and she wonders if this is what cardiac arrest feels like. Their eyes meet. 

“Raiden,” she says quietly, “I… get it. It wasn’t really you—not this you. I don’t… know anything about multiverse bullshit or cosmic whatever-the-fuck, but I… know you… err, well, I’ve gotten to know you,” she amends, then presses on, “and, more importantly, dad knows you. You don’t have to apologize, ever… Your being around here for him—for both of us—is huge. It means a lot to him and to me, y’know? You’re like the weird uncle that’s hard to explain to the neighbors, or somethin’.” Cassie withdraws her hand, because the electrical current has become too much and she’s gone a little numb in the immediate area. She minutely covers it with the other as she folds it in her lap, imitating him, but secretly trying to rub feeling back into it. 

“I do not do this, be here with you both, to apologize,” Raiden informs her, straightening. “I… have become fond of your family over the years and… it is not something even my nature can overcome. Nor do I want to deny it, Cassandra Cage.” 

“Okay Lord Raiden, I’m—I’ve had it up to here with the whole ‘Cassandra Cage’ thing… Don’t you know me well enough to call me Cassie?” Cassie surprises herself with this outburst. It does not, however, seem to have taken Raiden by surprise. 

“Johnny Cage has said much the same,” he responds. She makes a “see there you go” gesture.

“You and me,” she says suddenly, standing, fists balled, “back yard, winner take all. I win, you call me Cassie—and my dad’s just Johnny, okay?” 

“And if I win.” Raiden stands as well, once more dwarfing her. She suddenly feels foolish about her challenge, but the Blade women never back down. Cage women don’t either. 

“I’ll… make that pizza you like…. With the anchovies.” Cassie pulls a face, indicating she has some objections about Raiden’s choice in pizza toppings. For his part, Raiden seems to consider it. Cassie wonders if he’s considering consulting the Elder Gods, even now, knowing it’s a cruel thought to have. Her contempt for them has not and will not likely ever wane, after what they’ve put Earthrealm through. Death’s more than they deserve, she thinks acidly.

“I accept your challenge.”

Cassie nods, her face grim, the set of her jaw and strongly resembling both her mother and father. She heads toward the back door with Raiden in tow, he heart hammering. Relax, Cass’, she thinks, it’s friendly; he’s not gunna fry ya for this. Just as she reaches it, her father bursts in and tosses his hands up. “I got it, Cass’, I figured out what… I… need…” He trails off as he catches sight of the tall, hat-topped figure behind his daughter. “Is there… uh, what’s goin’ on?” 

Raiden finds his bewilderment charming and his expression softens. “Your daughter has challenged me to Mortal Kombat.” 

“Oh okay well that’s just—MORTAL KOMBAT? Cass’, you gotta be shittin’ me, baby girl; what are you—why? No—Nope I can’t… this is not happening.” 

“Once the challenge has been issued and accepted, it cannot be revoked,” Raiden reminds Johnny, laying a hand upon his shoulder. “But worry not. I have no intention of… cheating. Hold this a moment, will you?”

And just like that, the surge of electricity Johnny had felt when Raiden made contact erupts across all of his nerves and he suddenly feels like he is floating. Cassie once more whirls to face the thunder deity and finds that, in place of glowing, indiscernible irises, a pair of dark, soft ones meet hers with ease and benevolent kindness. Her father, however, is a different story. Reaching up, he pulls off yet another pair of $500 sunglasses (which seem to be in eternal supply in the Cage household) and flashes those strange, glowing eyes at his daughter. 

“Dad?” Cassie’s voice is a strangely hoarse whisper. She shifts her attention and addresses her concerns to Raiden. “Is… he gunna be okay?” 

“He will be fine, Cassandra Cage, now… to Kombat.” He gestures out the back door and, with the sound of her whole name, Cassie’s resolution is galvanized and she leads the way once more, a very human Raiden and a deified Johnny Cage now following her like the strangest band of ducklings ever conceived. 

Johnny watches his hands, lightning dancing between his fingers as he finds his way, dazedly, to a deck chair and plops down into it. “Hey!” He calls suddenly, “can I like… go visit Liu?”

“You can.” 

Before the second syllable is out of Raiden’s mouth, Johnny is gone. Raiden laughs and shakes his head. Cassie’s brows knit together. “Does he even know how to drive that thing?”

“Not at all, but his desire to see his friend will bring him where he needs to be.” Raiden stands back, beckoning Cassie. She notes that he does not seem to drop into any kind of fighting stance as she does and it worries her. She has seen the damage he can do with his lightning, but not without it and she has never, in her recollection, seen him engage in kombat. What the hell am I doing?

“Thunder God Johnny Cage,” Cassie says, the words tasting strange in her mouth. “Who knew?”

“It suits him.”

 -

 The pizza is delicious, in Raiden’s opinion and, though he does not need to eat, there is a certain pleasure in these little indulgences. He is grateful to have learned this lesson from an old friend and he cherishes it when the timing is right and the opportunity arises. This certainly qualifies. They, that is, Cassie and Raiden, are seated on the back patio, the sun slowly sinking, the pizza box open between them. 

“So… why does dad get to be Johnny and I’m still Cassandra?” She does her best to imitate Raiden’s stern baritone, but of course fails miserably and ends up sounding comical. Raiden considers her question and imitation a moment and sits forward, laying his plate aside. He shifts once more and turns to her. 

“Your grandfather Carlton… refers to your father as Jonathan.”

Cassie never asks again.

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

Lost Boy (Chapter 5: Learning New Things)

Summary: When his family moves from San Francisco to the town of Shadyside, T.J. thought his life would change. And it did. He just didn’t think it would come in the form of the ghost of a boy who haunted his new bedroom.

Prologue

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 

Tag list:@delicatesleeper,@ibroughtachallah,@frenchtohste,@alittletooliteralleah,@tyrusmagocious,@tjskipping, @mirrorslover, @opatrickr, @lesbianrelateddeath,@mirrorslover,@opatrickr, @justkimberley, @burning-hot-pan,@green-lemonboys, @anotherangelfromspace,@thebisexualweirdo,@likelightning-inabottle,@thedampjofangirl, @fizasdr, @awkward-bisexual-alien, @whipashwhipash, @abg-blah​, @atthemomentimintothis​, @emberofthefrost​ 

.........

Sweat rolled off his back and forehead while his lungs burned from the exertion. Every muscle in his body was tight and ached. And his cheeks were red and heated.

It felt good.

A whistle rang in his ears just as he caught the ball passed on to him.

“Alright! Ten-minute break and we’ll dive right into a mock play!” announced the Coach.

T.J. tossed the ball into the nearby cart, gave Buffy’s friend (a guy named Marty) who was his partner for the drill a fist bump, and headed for one of the benches by the bleachers where he left his bag. He rummaged around for his water bottle and took a generous gulp. The cold water soothed his throat, cooling him down.

“Hey, T.J.! Great job out there!” Andi had come down from the bleachers, Libby behind her.

He smiled at her. “Thanks. You think I’ll make it?”

Libby made a few signs in ASL. Unfortunately, T.J. wasn’t familiar with it yet but Andi or Walker often interpreted for him.

“Libby says they’ll be crazy not to let you in! And I agree with her! You’re a natural!” Andi grinned

“Thanks, guys. That means a lot.”

He turned his head to see what the others were doing and spotted Buffy talking to Marty nearby.

Perfect.

He lifted a hand and made his voice as loud as possible. “Buffy! Hey!”

The curly-haired girl turned her head, catching sight of him. She waved back and jogged over, the brunette boy following behind her.

“’Sup, Kippen?” she grinned. “You really gave Marty a run for his money!”

“Hey! He has longer legs so he’s naturally faster!” the boy protested.

T.J. laughed and turned to Andi, whose smile had dropped slightly. He pretended not to notice and gestured to her.

“This is Andi and Libby, by the way. Andi and Libby, this is Buffy. And Marty.”

“From the party,” Andi blurted out before blushing. ���Sorry, force of habit.”

Nonetheless, Marty laughed and Buffy’s lips twitched in amusement. T.J. wondered what the story behind that was.

Andi managed a small smile as she turned her attention to Buffy. “Hi, Buffy.”

Buffy returned the smile, rather sadly. “Hi, Andi.”

He could practically feel the tense electricity in the air. Even Libby looked a little awkward, her gaze moving from Andi to Buffy and back to Andi.

T.J. pretended to look confused. “You, guys, know each other? Oh, wait, Andi. This is the Buffy you were talking about?”

“Well, there’s no one else at this school named after a famous vampire slayer,” Buffy joked.

It made everyone laugh and, for a moment, the atmosphere was a little less tense. From the outside looking in, they probably looked like a group of good friends.

If only that were truly the case.

When the laughter died down, the awkwardness returned. Andi and Buffy couldn’t look at each other in the eye. Libby was staring at Andi, her hands twitching like she desperately wanted to say something. And Marty kept his gaze on the floor, though his arm made its way over Buffy’s shoulder.

“Well, this is great!” T.J. forced perkiness into his tone, cringing at how fake he sounded. “We should all hang out! After tryouts? We can go to The Spoon.”

He grinned expectantly at everyone, even showed some teeth. If Cyrus could see him now, the ghost would no doubt laugh in his face because he was clearly trying too hard.

Instead of the enthusiastic agreement that he was hoping for, the tension only grew. Buffy looked a little hopeful but still, she didn’t say a word.

“Um, Libby and I are actually helping Walker with a mural later,” said Andi, softly. 

Beside her, Libby nodded in agreement.

Buffy’s face fell as she looked away, refusing to meet their eyes. “And Marty and I already have plans. Sorry.”

T.J. felt his heart sink. “Oh…”

Meanwhile, Marty cleared his throat. “Maybe another time?” he offered.

T.J. nodded. “Yeah, definitely.”

Another awkward silence fell upon them as he racked his brains for something to break it. He wished he had something, anything, to get them to start talking.

“Uh, I need to go to the bathroom,” Buffy announced, already turning away. “I’ll see you, guys.”

“Sure,” T.J. replied.

He, Andi, and Libby just watched as Buffy and Marty walked away from them and through the door to the locker rooms. Sighing, T.J. turned back to the two girls.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize…”

Andi shook her head. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not like Buffy and I don’t like each other anymore. It’s just…we lost touch. She became preoccupied with sports and I wanted to concentrate on art.”

And the silent third thing was there: there was no Cyrus to glue them back together, anymore.

T.J. wished he could offer more comfort, given the knowledge he had about their friendship. But, he could only keep his mouth closed and look sorry as much as he could.

After all, they didn’t know that he knew exactly why they stopped talking.

……….

After tryouts, he headed to The Spoon Diner. Amber was working there as a waitress now. Her shifts were after school, three times a week, from 4-7pm, which meant that T.J. could stop by and get free food when she was working. It was one of those days and he really needed some comforting junk food in his system.

He spotted his sister’s blonde ponytail taking orders at the bar counter so he settled on a stool there and patiently waited.

Amber finished with her customer, spotted him, and walked right over.

“Hey, twerp. How were tryouts?” she asked.

T.J. glared at the insulting nickname before grinning. “I think I did pretty great! I’m definitely in!”

“Oohh, sounding confident, aren’t we?” Amber raised an eyebrow. “When do you know the results?”

“Monday. But, I know I’m definitely in!”

“Aww, I’m proud of you.”

Amber reached over to ruffle his hair and T.J. recoiled, slapping her hands away.

“Can you just get me some food? I’m hungry.”

“I don’t hear the magic word.”

“Now, please.”

Amber rolled her eyes but lifted her pad and pen to take his order. “What do you want?”

T.J. shrugged. “Don’t know. Never been here. What’s good?”

“The baby taters are pretty popular. And the milkshakes.”

He raised a brow. “What are baby taters?”

Amber chuckled. “Their version of a tater tot. But, it’s really good, almost everyone orders it.”

“Then, I’ll have that. And a chocolate milkshake. To go.”

She lifted her eyes from her pad. “You’re not staying?”

“Nah, I’ll just head home. Cyrus probably wants to know how it went.”

And just like that, his sister’s smile dipped into a frown. “So, you’re actually helping that ghost?” she asked in a low tone.

T.J. shrugged. “Yeah.”

Amber’s hands fell on top of the counter, clutching the edge tightly. “You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore. You said you wanted a normal life, yet you’re back to the same old routine again?”

“It’s just one ghost,” T.J. defended. “And it’s not anything dangerous, either. I’m just helping his friends make up again, that’s all. Nothing illegal, no breaking and entering, and no trip to the police this time. I swear.”

“And what if the other ghosts find out and they flock to you for help?”

“Cyrus promised me he wouldn’t tell the others. He told me he doesn’t talk to them anyway.”

Amber steeled her gaze. “And you believe him?”

“Yes.” T.J. returned her look, stubbornly refusing to back down. “I trust him. And he trusts me.”

Well, he didn’t know, exactly, if Cyrus trusted him, but what else he could say to get her to drop the subject and accept his decision? 

And, besides, Cyrus had declared them friends and told him many things about himself (except for the way he died, that was still a well-guarded secret and mystery). That meant he trusted T.J. even just a little, right?

Amber continued to stare him down, in big sister mode now. She may support his abilities but she never did approve of his activities, which mostly stemmed from the trauma with Emily. She didn’t trust ghosts, no matter what.

“I’ve never seen you act like this towards a ghost before,” she stated, her brow furrowing. “Normally, you’re detached. You treat it like a job you hate. But with this one… you’re different.” She narrowed her eyes. “Do you like him or something?”

Immediately, T.J.’s cheeks flushed, caught off-guard. “What?”

“Is he your type?” she pressed.

“What are you talking about?” T.J.’s entire face burned, including his ears.

“I need a picture of this boy. What was his name again?”

“Amber!”

“Never mind. I’ll find out, myself.” 

Without another word to him, she spun on her heels and headed towards the kitchen. “I can’t believe my brother has a crush on a ghost,” he heard her murmur before she walked through the doors.

Groaning, T.J. dropped his head on the table.

Amber was just being ridiculous. He didn’t have a crush on Cyrus! Sure, he thought he was kind of cute and endearing, but T.J. barely knew anything about him!

And, besides, Cyrus was a ghost! It would never work out! As soon as T.J. finished helping him with his unfinished business, he was going to move on and disappear from the Earth forever. T.J. could not afford to crush on a ghost, it would just all end in heartbreak.

Feeling a presence settle on the seat next to him, he lifted his head. Amber was beside him, no longer wearing her hat and apron.

He raised his brows, questioningly, at her.

“I’m taking my break,” was all she answered.

T.J. rolled his eyes. “If you’re just trying to find out if I have a crush on Cyrus, I don’t. Okay? We’re just friends. He’s not interested in me in that way and neither am I.”

His sister didn’t look like she believed him. Instead, she took out her phone and quickly typed and furiously scrolled, not looking at him. Finally, she found what she was looking for and turned the phone around.

It was a Facebook account - a private one but the profile picture was clear as day in revealing who owned it. And the smiling image staring back at him was of the same boy who lived in his bedroom. 

“Is this him?” she asked.

“H-How did you…?”

“I can ask mom questions, too.”

“You texted her?! What if she was in the middle of a lesson?!”

“If she was, she wouldn’t text me back.” Amber flashed him a pointed look. “So, there aren’t many Cyrus Goodman’s who live in Shadyside, just this one.” She raised an eyebrow. “So? Is this him?”

T.J. nervously swallowed. “Y-Yeah,” he admitted.

Amber hummed as she looked at her phone again. “I guess he’s kinda cute. Not my type, but he’s got a certain charm to him. I can see why you want to help him.”

“Amber, his looks have got nothing to do with my helping him, okay?” T.J. sighed. “I just feel bad. He’s obviously stuck and doesn’t know why. I’m just trying to help. And he’s really nice, not like the others. They’re always demanding me to do things for them but Cyrus? He never asked for my help. I offered it. And he’s not making me rush either. I just… want to help him.” He sighed again. “I don’t even know if I can help. So far, my plan to get his friends to talk again didn’t work. It’s like they don’t even know what to say to each other or how to start a conversation.”

Amber puffed her cheeks, indicating that she was actually thinking deeply about something.

“Maybe… they just need something to remind them of their old friendship,” she suggested.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Things like… the place they met… or a place they frequented… maybe an activity they often did together.”

T.J. didn’t know what those were but he could always ask Cyrus.

“… or maybe old photos? Those can always make you remember the good ol’ days. Never underestimate the power of nostalgia.”

T.J. pursed his lips. “I guess I could ask Cyrus.”

Amber gave him a worried look. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

He appreciated her concern but he already made up his mind. He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Sighing loudly, Amber nodded. “Alright. Just be careful.” She got to her feet. “Your order should be done soon. I’ll go check.”

She affectionately patted his cheek before leaving. He smiled after her in gratitude.

For all of her hatred of ghosts, his sister still came through with offering him advice.

……....

He had to admit. The baby taters were addicting. They were lightly salted and the grease stained his fingers. He never cared about tater tots before but, for some reason, he just couldn’t stop eating them.

T.J. stared forlornly at the Styrofoam box sitting on his desk that was once filled to the brim but was now half-empty, only around six tots left. He should go on a jog tomorrow morning because he was pretty sure he gained quite a bit just from that. All he wanted was a snack but Amber gave him the huge serving and he didn’t know whether to thank her or curse her.

As he reached over to take another piece, he caught a shimmer from the corner of his eye.

As usual, Cyrus was sat on his desk, smiling and waving. “Hey, T.J.”

The blonde let out a chuckle. “No nickname today?”

Cyrus shrugged. “Couldn’t think of one.” When he looked down and saw the box, his eyes lit up. “Oh my god! Are those baby taters?!”

“Yeah? Want some?”

T.J. almost kicked himself. Of course, Cyrus couldn’t have some! He was a ghost!

Thankfully, Cyrus just laughed. “No, thanks. I’m on a diet.” He looked on with a sad smile at the tater tots. “These were my favorite. Andi, Buffy, and I used to get a huge order and share them. And I would do tater theatre!”

Raising a curious brow, T.J. asked, “What’s tater theatre?”

The question seemed to light up Cyrus’ entire face. He proudly straightened up. “Only the best and most entertaining show in Shadyside, presented to you by the wonderful Cyrus Goodman.” He gestured to the baby taters. “May I?”

Confused yet curious, T.J. gave him the go-ahead with a simple nod.

Excitedly, Cyrus picked up two of the tots. “High School Musical or Camp Rock?”

“Uh… High School Musical?”

The ghost grinned. “Excellent choice. So, today’s installment of tater theatre presents, High Tater Musical!” He lifted a tot. “From the moment Troy Bolton and Gabriella Montez met, they had no idea that it was going to be the start of something new…”

T.J. watched in total astonishment as Cyrus re-created the entire movie using only the tater tots and his voice. It was the most ridiculous display he had ever seen in his entire life.

He loved it.

He clapped loudly when Cyrus finished and the boy blushed yet gave a little bow. 

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll be here all night!”

“That was... wow.”

“Not exactly an adjective but I’ll take it!”

T.J. grinned as he picked up a tot, dipped it in ketchup, and popped it into his mouth. “And you did this all the time?”

“Only when I felt inspired. Which was a lot.”

If any of those were just like the one he just witnessed, Cyrus’ friends probably had a grand time watching them.

“So, aside from baby taters, what else do you like?”

It didn’t take long for the boy to answer. “Chocolate-chocolate chip muffins! They’re the best thing in this world! Aside from baby taters, of course!”

“I’m learning new things about you everyday.”

Cyrus cocked his head to the side. “What about yours?”

“My what?”

“Your favorite muffin.”

T.J. pursed his lips in thought. “Hmmm… Blueberry macadamia.”

Cyrus made a face. “That doesn’t exist!”

“Of course, it does! There’s this bakery back in San Francisco that makes really good blueberry macadamia! We went there all the time!”

It was one of the very few things he missed about San Francisco, but he could live with it. 

The ghost looked at him, suspiciously. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

T.J. opened his mouth to answer but stopped himself on time. He had been about to tell Cyrus that he would take him. 

What was he thinking?! Of course, he couldn’t take Cyrus to San Francisco! Ghosts were normally tied to one place and Cyrus was tied to this town. They couldn’t just go on a road trip to San Francisco… could they?

“But, you know, if you dip the baby tater in your milkshake, it tastes like heaven. Or, that’s how I imagine heaven to taste like.”

T.J. blinked, confused, but Cyrus was staring at the little container of ketchup on his desk.

T.J.’s chest twitched and he lifted a hand to scratch at it. “Sure, I’ll give it a shot.” He opened the top of his milkshake cup and dipped a baby tater in before taking a small bite.

As soon as the cold sweetness combined with the light salty taste met his tongue, his eyes widened in shock.

Cyrus looked utterly delighted when he dipped the tot in a second time.

The simple things really did make the ghost happy. “So, how were tryouts?” he asked, leaning back as he playfully kicked his legs back and forth.

T.J. wiped his hands on a napkin. “Pretty great! I’m definitely in, but I don’t find out for sure until Monday.”

“You’re in. I just know it!”

T.J. smiled, feeling warmth take over his body as he was filled with gratitude for the boy’s support.  

He waited for Cyrus to ask about Buffy and Andi but he didn’t. Honestly, he wasn’t looking forward to telling him that his plan failed. He hoped Cyrus wouldn’t be too disappointed.

“But, my plan… didn’t actually work,” he stated, slowly.

Cyrus frowned. “Your plan?”

“For Buffy and Andi. They barely talked! It was so awkward!”

“Oh.” Cyrus nodded, his eyes falling to the floor. He did look disappointed but not surprised. “That’s okay. You tried your best.”

T.J. didn’t like that forlorn look on his face. It just didn’t suit him. 

T.J. scooted his chair closer to the boy, placing a hand on his knee. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep trying. This isn’t the end.”

Cyrus managed a small smile at that. “Thank you.”

T.J. nodded. “So, I talked to my sister about it. And she said maybe they’ll talk if something reminded them of their friendship. Like, maybe the place you guys met?”

“Second grade. Jefferson Elementary. It’s only a couple of blocks from the Middle School.”

“Where did you guys hang out a lot?”

“The Spoon. Red Rooster since Andi’s dad owns the place. And, sometimes, Cloud Ten. That’s the Salon on Main, Andi’s mom owns it.”

T.J. pursed his lips. “Now, how do I get them both in all those places? They wouldn’t even go to The Spoon with me!”

Chuckling, Cyrus shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, everyone hangs out at The Spoon, they’re bound to run into each other there at some point. And wouldn’t they find it weird if you asked them to go to the Elementary School? They don’t even know that you know me. Unless you told them you found pictures of us or something.”

T.J.’s ears perked. Pictures.

“Do you have any?” he asked, the wheels in his head turning.

“Any what?”

“Pictures! Of the three of you! Maybe if I show it to them, they’ll remember they were friends. And they’ll…” He looked at Cyrus, trying to decipher his expression. “Remember you. And the times you guys shared.”

Cyrus bit his lower lip, seeming like he was struggling with a thought.

It only then occurred to T.J. that, obviously, Cyrus wouldn’t have any photos. At least, not here. His whole room was cleared out with almost everything when his parents sold the house to T.J.’s mom. And he didn’t really feel like breaking and entering into Cyrus’ parents’ new place - those days were behind him. 

He was about to apologize when Cyrus nodded. 

“I do. In the closet, there’s a loose floorboard. I used it to hide some things. I’m sure they’re still there, no one else knows about it.”

With Cyrus’ approval, T.J. got up and went over to the closet. Crouching on the floor, he pushed sneakers and boxes aside.

“It’s towards the back,” Cyrus called out.

T.J. crawled further in, rapping his knuckles against the wood. Finally, he heard it – a hollow sound. Using his fingernails, he jiggled and pried the wood loose, lifting it up and setting it aside. Inside was a blue shoebox, a little frayed but still intact. Taking it in his hands, he crawled back out of the closet and placed it on the floor. He crossed his legs underneath him.

Cyrus appeared across from him, the box between them.

“You can open it,” the boy said with a nod.

T.J. nodded back before removing the top. His eyes met a stack of photos placed neatly on top of a little blue notebook. He carefully took out the stack. 

The beaming face of a young Cyrus standing in between a young Buffy and Andi stared back at him.

“Wow, you guys were adorable,” he said, unable to stop himself from smiling.

He flipped through them, each one showing a new memory, a new stage of Cyrus’ life as the three gradually got older and older. There were photos of them in Halloween costumes, at The Spoon, at birthday parties, on bikes. 

In almost all of them, Cyrus was always in the middle, always sandwiched in between the two girls who clearly adored him and whom he adored in return. They were a huge part of each other’s lives.

T.J. arrived at the last photo of the three friends at what looked like a pizza place, a fourth person standing next to Cyrus.

“Jonah Beck,” T.J. stated, staring at a much younger-looking version of the boy from his English class.

“Yeah.” Fingers gently grasped the edge of the photo as Cyrus reached over to take it from his hold. “This was taken the year before I died. The Space Otters won their final game of the season.”

T.J. didn’t know who the Space Otters were but he dared not interrupt to ask.

Cyrus continued to talk, “Jonah gave me the MVP award and an honorary Space Otter member t-shirt. It was a fun time.” He smiled at the photo, fondly. “That was when I…”

The ghost trailed off, looking like his mind was far away now.

“When… you?” T.J. tried to ask, his curiousity piqued.

Cyrus looked up at him, meeting his eyes. The brown orbs looked conflicted, like he was trying to make a decision.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” said T.J., immediately. “But, I may not be the son of three psychologists and a life coach, but I can still listen.”

At that, the other boy broke into a smile. “Yeah…”

“I promise I won’t judge. Well, unless you think the ‘The Last Airbender’ live-action movie was great. Then, I’m sorry but I have to judge you.”

Cyrus finally laughed. “Never. I have some taste.” He quieted again, lips pressed tightly in thought.

T.J. decided to look through the photos again, giving the other boy time to decide and get comfortable.

There were a couple of pictures of a young Cyrus, Buffy, and Andi on the swings and a few more recent-looking ones, too. They must really like the swings. T.J. recognized the playground it was on, he passed it often whenever he took a shortcut through the park on his way home from school.

And Cyrus wore a lot of sweaters and button-ups. T.J. couldn’t judge his fashion choices. He, himself. only wore hoodies, after all.

And Cyrus could dance? There was a photo of the three in fedoras and sparkly jackets mid-dance on a dance floor at some kind of huge event. He didn’t strike T.J. as the type, but then again, there were many things he didn’t know about Cyrus.

“I’m gay.”

T.J.’s head flew up so fast that he thought his neck had snapped.

Cyrus wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were firmly set on the photo he still clutched in his shaking hands.

“I’m sorry, I kind of sprung a big one on you,” he continued, his voice breaking. “I just… I know we’ve only known each other for maybe three weeks but I feel comfortable talking to you and I feel like you won’t judge me. But… please don’t think I’m weird or looking at you or something like that because I’m not, I swear. I respect your privacy and if you want me to leave any time, I-.”

“I’m gay, too.”

It was Cyrus’ turn to almost snap his neck as he looked up at T.J., mouth open in disbelief.

T.J. flashed him a gentle smile. “Hi.”

Cyrus’ mouth opened and closed. “I… You… Really?”

T.J. nodded.

“And you’re just… telling me? Just like that?” the boy continued to ask, still sounding unsure.

T.J. shrugged. “I’m not exactly out everyone but the people who matter already know the truth. There’s Amber, my mom, and, now, you.” He smiled again. “I trust you, Ghost Boy. And you can trust me.”

For a beat or two, Cyrus was quiet as he continued to stare at him like he had two heads. And then, he let out a breath – one that was full of relief.

And, T.J. wondered: how long had been hiding it? How long had he been keeping it all in? How long had he been holding his breath with no way to release it?

“I do,” Cyrus said, smiling at him, his brown eyes shining with unshed tears. “I trust you.”

T.J.’s heart was suddenly beating so fast that he feared that it would jump out of his chest. He recognized this feeling. He had only felt it once before and never thought he would again. At least, not right now. And not towards a ghost. But, maybe he had been trying to deny it because Cyrus was a ghost.

Shit. Maybe Amber was right.

[emu-lumberjack]

A Text, A Mess, and Some Cookies

Newt wasn’t expecting to hear From April today, or really ever. so when he gets a text from her obviously he’ll help. plus he’ll do a little extra.

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

Ok so this has been bugging me for about a week, and I decided to finally write it out, it’s just OC work so not any fandom stuff. I feel like this comes in the middle of the characters development so yeah. I want to post it because why not, also just as backround April only likes being called Ril by close friends or family. which is also explained in my head earlier in the story. oh yeah did I mention that this is like the middle of it in my head. anyway here y’all are.

I wasn’t expecting to get the text from April, but sure enough there was her contact picture. It was one she had taken herself when they first met, she had one eye closed was holding up a peace sign and her tongue was sticking out. I loved it, it was so her and not that facade she puts up  around other people where she was perfectly polite and kind. 

Hey, you wouldn’t by chance be at your house? And have Advil present would you? 

Strange request but you’re in luck I’m both home and have advil present 

Thank you! Would you mind bringing it over? You can come through the deck and my room, I’m kinda currently couch ridden.

 I’ll be over in 2

 I went to the kitchen and grabbed the Advil, at this point, I trusted her enough that she legitimately needed it and she wasn’t just trying to annoy the crap out of me.

Once I got through the door I noticed her room was really messy When was the last time she cleaned? I thought to myself, walking through the hallway to the living room wasn’t much better. There were laundry baskets all around with stacks of books and papers thrown in periodically. Walking into the living room I noticed the smell coming from the garbage, not pleasant. The kitchen was right next door and even from a brief glance, I could tell the dishes were piled up high. 

“Hey” a smaller voice than I was used to came from the couch. I walked around to see April with a heating pad pressed to her stomach and a blanket covering her legs, it was then that I realized how cold it was in here.

 “Sorry for the mess, I haven’t exactly been feeling great the last few days.”

 I handed her the Advil and said, “this isn’t exactly a few days worth of mess.” 

“Yeah I know, it’s been a harder few weeks, it’s just most people buy the few days act.” 

“Too bad for you I’m not most people, do you want water for the Advil?” 

“That would actually be awesome.” I walked into the kitchen and my initial feeling about the it was correct, it was a total mess. How she lived like this I had no idea. Fast as I could I grabbed the last clean glass from the cabinet and got some water into it. Walking back I noticed the stains on the counter. 

“Here you go April.” 

“Have I mentioned your a lifesaver?” she cracked a small smile and downed the Advil. 

“So you want to tell me what’s up with the getup?” I motioned to the sweats plus heating pad plus blanket combo. 

“Well uh… let’s just say having two X-chromosomes sucks ass, and this time is particularly bad. I forgot to start taking Advil when I initially felt the symptoms and by the time I really needed it, I couldn’t find any. I was actually looking for a solid half hour before I texted you. Thanks again by the way, sorry I had to text you in the first place.” She looked up at me, and I swear I had never seen her that tired. 

“Hey it’s completely fine I had nothing to do today anyway, you know me the most exciting thing I was planning today was sorting out my colored pens for the fourteenth time today.” we both chuckled at that. 

“Well if you don’t have anything to do want to come to watch the new episode of Doctor Who with me? I recorded it last night I hear that the new fan theory is the Master coming back.” 

“Scooch over you’ve got me invested now.” She sat up and motioned for me to sit where her head had been lying seconds before. 

“I bet you a batch of cookies the Master doesn’t actually show up.” 

“Oh, I’ll take that bet. Chocolate chip is my favorite by the way.” She was looking better but she still looked absolutely exhausted. Over the episode, I guess we must have drifted closer because at about 20 minutes in I felt a small weight on my shoulder. When I looked over I saw April sleeping softly with her head resting right where the small weight was I think that was the first time I’d ever seen her truely asleep. I moved a strand of blonde hair out of her face, she looked so much younger sleeping. I never really noticed before how much stress she carried with her until it was gone. That’s when I got the idea to help ease her stress, if just for a little. 

Careful not to wake her up I gently laid her back down on the couch, before I did anything  I turned off the heating pad and moved it to the table. I started by taking out the trash, then I worked through the kitchen doing the dishes and cleaning the stained countertop. I quickly realized I’d probably have to bring cleaning supplies from my house but that wouldn’t be too much of an issue. I listened to the episode as I worked, and it was on one of my supply runs that I added to my mental checklist to see what she had here for baking and what I needed to bring over. Quickly the kitchen looked less and less like a tornado had just ripped through it, and more like someone just needed to vacuum, which I would do once, she got up. Once most of the kitchen was done I started on the cookies. She had most of the stuff for the recipe so I only had to bring over chocolate chips and brown sugar. While they were in the oven I started tackling the hallway. 

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

Why does it smell like heaven was my first thought upon waking up, then I remembered. Newt, Advil, Doctor Who. Wait did I fall asleep? Shit! I hated falling asleep in front of people, but I guess the 4 closing shifts combined with the 2 doubles I’d done finally caught up with me. I went to stand up thankful to notice the cramp was finally done, those are probably in my top ten painful experiences and this was definitely one of the worst ones.

 I followed my nose to the kitchen where I saw Newt of all people scrubbing at a mixing bowl, chocolate chip cookies stood on a cooling rack a pleasant vanilla scent rang through the kitchen. In my groginess it took me a moment but I finally noticed that the counter was, clean? When did that happen? I must have made a noise because Newt turned around from his cleaning.

 “Look whose finally awake, have a nice nap?” He tried to put in our usual sarcasm but I could tell it was really just a joke rather than our normal banter. 

“Uh.. yeah. I actually really needed that. One question though, when did this,” I motioned to the clean kitchen, “happen. Because the last thing I remember the Doctor Who theme was playing and it smelled like someone just died in here.” 

“Yeah, so you fell asleep about a third of the way through the episode. I personally wanted to keep watching but the smell was just so bad so I took out the trash, then I realized if you were right I was gonna need space to bake cookies, so I started doing the dishes.” It sounded true enough, but I still smelled something funny, something he wasn’t telling me about. “Then well I couldn’t really walk through the hallway when I came in so I just tidied that up a little, and I needed a place to sit on the couch, so I also put that stuff up and cleaned that a little. I didn’t want to wake you up so I left the vacuuming up to you.”  

 “And the cookies?” “Oh you were right, it was such a twist ending.” there was a twinkle in his eyes and he smiled at me. I gave him one right back. 

“See I told you, anyway I’m sad I missed it.” 

“Ya know I was busy doing this I was only able to listen to the episode, I didn’t get to watch. How bout we rewind it and watch it together? This time both of us staying awake.”

 “Sounds like a plan. How bout you go get it set up, and bring the cookies out and I’ll finish cleaning up. You’ve already done so much.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah tho I think you should take the cookies out of the oven, I have a bad habit of over baking them.” 

“That I remember.” we both gave a shudder of the burned cookie fiasco of October. He produced a cookie platter where he got it I have no idea and started putting cookies on it, I finished up with the mixing bowl and cleaned the electric mixer, there really wasn’t a lot to do after all Newt had done a lot.”

 “Hey Ril which remote is it?” He called from the living room

 “The silver one.” I hollered back. A second later I realized what he called me, and I think he did too because I swear there was complete silence even from the birds outside. 

“Uh… Sorry I didn’t realize if----” he began from the other room.

“It’s fine don’t worry bout it Newt.” A breath and we were all back to normal or at least our version of normal. 

Newt came back in a few minutes later, the timer on his phone must’ve gone off because he was getting the cookies out of the oven. I’m not too proud to admit that when he did I followed the cookies with my nose, they smelled amazing. 

“Careful, these are still really hot.” So he did see me eyeing the cookies. 

“There are cooler ones out on the living room table.”

 “Yeah, but they aren’t as gooey.” I tried to sneak my arm past him to grab one, but hegrabbed my wrist and directed me away from the too hot tray. 

“You’re no fun.” 

“And you’re gonna get burned. At least let me move them to the cooling tray first.” 

“Fine.” I sighed heavily. Once he did I grabbed the cookie sheet and dumped it in the sink to clean it, when that was done I looked over to see the still cooling cookies. Newt had his back turned, so I obviously did the only reasonable thing. I grabbed a cookie and started eating it. “Mhmmm. That is the best cookie I’ve ever had.”

 “High praise coming from the picky eater herself.” back to our usual sarcasm, I could work with this. 

“Well you see, there are slight imbalances with the salt to sugar ratio. I feel as though it’s a little too sweet.” 

“Oh, you’re so full of shit.” We looked at each other and broke out laughing. 

“Come on let’s go finish the show. I’ve got to know how right I was about the Master.” 

“Oh like only nine percent.” 

“Nine?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“Ty.” 

“That sounds more like it.” he gave a laugh, one I don’t usually hear on it’s own. It was quick but real, one that’s hard to place but will infect anyone around them with happiness. I like seeing that laugh.

[lajulie24]

And you will always find me

Part 6 in my Bespin AU/ESB AU series where Han and Leia escape Bespin before Breakfast with Vader. You can read the other parts here: Part 1: I know, Part 2: Jump, Part 3: Visions of the future, Part 4: Decisions, Part 5: Hear me.

“I know where Luke is. We have to go back.”

Leia had that look about her again. Her brown eyes determined, sure, her voice calm yet decisive. She got that look on missions sometimes, and when she did, Han knew instinctively to just go with whatever came next, even if it was a move that sounded absolutely insane even to a gambler like him.

To be fair, she had trusted him on a number of rather dicey-sounding plans, too, the most recent of which had included flying into an asteroid field, buzzing a Star Destroyer from attack position, and stopping for repairs at a mining outpost managed by his ex-boyfriend, with whom he hadn’t spoken in years. And, of course, there was the whole getting involved in an actual relationship thing, though that felt like less of a plan and more of a crashing inevitability.

Her preoccupation with Luke earlier in the day had started him worrying about the Kid, too, he had to admit.

So I guess we’re doin’ this. But Han needed a little more information.

“Back where?” he asked.

“The Nebula,” she said. “I don’t know why he’d be there, but I just—I think he’s in trouble.”

Han nodded. He wasn’t sure when he’d become the guy who put aside logic for trust, but if there was one thing he believed in, it was her. “All right. Let me tell Chewie.”

It was funny, the things that would come into your head as you sat there, drifting through space. Luke idly wondered whether it was some version of your life flashing before your eyes before you died. Only instead of flashing, it was floating. Languid, impossibly slow.

It wasn’t exactly a highlight reel, either, but more a collage of some little things he’d nearly forgotten. The swishing noise Aunt Beru’s skirts would make when she came to tuck him in at night. Uncle Owen’s gentle encouragement peeking through his gruff exterior, teaching Luke to drive a landspeeder. Biggs’ laugh. The way Wedge’s accent changed when he was angry, or amused, or drunk. The spices in Chewie’s favorite stew. The little tunes Han would whistle sometimes as he was doing repairs, the tone of his voice when he called Luke “Kid” for the thousandth time. The furrow of Leia’s brow as she read, and the way her face would change when Luke said her name or Chewie brought her a cup of tea or Han greeted her with that grin of his.

Luke still attempted to restart the engine every few hours, just in case. R2 had isolated the problem to two possibilities, one of which was a temporary issue that could potentially resolve itself, and the other of which required parts they did not have available to them at the moment. It seemed the latter was more likely.

He hadn’t given up; far from it, in fact. He was beginning to understand what “there is no try” actually meant; it didn’t mean you never attempted anything, never acted, just blindly accepted your fate. It meant that if you were going to trust the Force, you had to actually jump in with both feet and trust it fully, not claim to trust it while making a plan in case it didn’t work. (Which meant, for instance, not bringing your weapons with you into a mystical cave to face the Dark Side.)

Did it always make logical sense? Of course not. But it didn’t make logical sense to go marching into the detention area to rescue someone slated for execution when you were carrying stolen plans, or to turn off your targeting computer just as you got in firing range of a deadly space station, or to go AWOL and take off to a strange planet based on a vision you had when you were half frozen to death, either.

He remembered something Uncle Owen used to say, about how fear was a gift, that it was telling you something, and woe to you if you didn’t listen. Useful as far as avoiding raiders and staying alive in the Tatooine desert went, sure. But for life advice, Luke had always chalked it up as another example of Owen letting fear circumscribe his life, using it as an excuse never to try anything or do anything.

Maybe Luke had been wrong about that, though; maybe it meant something more. Maybe listening to the Force was like listening to your fear, learning from what it had to say. And what it had to say wasn’t always don’t act, stay safe, keep your head down, protect yourself at all costs but to act with intention. To trust what was in your gut, your heart. Luke wasn’t sure how, but he still believed in his heart that leaving Dagobah had been the right thing to do.

And now, the Force had guided him to reach out to Leia, and he knew that she had heard him and would find a way to help him. He would do everything he could to give them plenty of time to get here—preserve his oxygen, shut down except for the emergency systems—but he would trust in the Force, and in his friends.

Chewbacca’s family had been surprisingly supportive of their abrupt departure, and even though both Han and Leia had tried to convince Chewie to stay behind and visit some more, he had insisted on coming.

“But Chewie, your family—“ Leia had made one last attempt at the landing pad before their departure.

[Little Princess.] Chewie’s growl had been as gentle as she’d ever heard. [The Little Jedi needs our help. And I have to protect Cub and you, now. My debt is to you both.]

There had been two surprises in that statement: that Chewie had accepted her conviction that Luke was in trouble without question, and that he seemed to be saying something about his life debt. “To us? But—“

[You are Cub’s mate,] Chewie had said simply. [You share his debt. I do not make the rules.]

“Chewie,” she’d said softly, but he’d just ruffled her hair again and turned to bid farewell to Malla before running up the ramp of the Falcon.

They were coming out of hyperspace near the Nebula now, and Leia just hoped they were right to have believed in her. It was hard to tear her eyes away from the viewscreen—they’d managed to jump into the tail end of an electrical storm, which was making things even more exciting than usual, and had Threepio in a conniption fit—but she closed her eyes, hoping to hear the voice she’d heard before.

Luke, where are you?

The reply was faint, but it was there. Leia?

“All right, Sweetheart, where to?” Han was asking. Leia opened her eyes.

“Set 392,” Leia heard herself saying, and Chewie put it in. The cockpit grew quiet, with the exception of an occasional “oh dear oh dear” from Threepio, and they all watched intently.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Han said softly. The cloud of particles surrounding them made it difficult to see at first, but the distinctive shape of an X-wing began to emerge. The engines didn’t appear to be engaged; it looked like it was just floating there. Leia held her breath as Han hailed the ship. “Kid? You okay there?”

The pause felt like forever, but Leia anticipated the answer a split second before it came. “Han? Am I glad to hear you! Where’s Leia?”

“I’m here,” Leia said, relief washing over her.

Han looked a little amused at Luke’s response. “What, I’m not good enough for you now? Ah, I see how it is.”

“Got a stalled engine,” Luke said, and suddenly Leia noticed how exhausted and wan his voice sounded. “R2 and I have been stuck here for a while.”

“Artoo!” Threepio exclaimed with happiness.

“All right, Kid. We’ll get you and the droid into the airlock, tow the ship back with us. Don’t want to stick around here any longer than we have to.”

“Thanks, Han.”

“Three, Kid. Three now you owe me.” Han sounded like the breezy, wisecracking version of himself that he’d been on Hoth, but Leia could tell that he was just as relieved as she was to hear Luke’s voice.

Luke’s laughter sounded a little weak, too, but it was good to hear it coming across the comm.

Chewie went back to take care of the airlock, and Han turned to Leia, his eyes tinged with a little bit of awe. “Min larel,” he said, “you are somethin’ else.”

As soon as the X-wing was secured, Han and Chewie returned to the cockpit, so Leia was left to tend to Luke in the medical bunk.

“Wait here,” she said, after getting him settled with a blanket and some intravenous fluids. “Be right back.”

She reappeared a few minutes later with a steaming cup of broth and a sleeve of crackers, and handed him the cup before sitting down beside him. As he sipped, she smoothed some of the hair away from his face, watching him with obvious concern.

Luke could hardly believe she was real, that he was here on the Falcon, that she and Han (and Chewie, and Threepio) were okay, but the broth helped ground him to the present.

“Better?” she asked.

“Much,” he said, taking another sip. “It’s good.”

She smiled, and her presence exuded warmth. “I can’t take credit; Chewie made it,” she said. “I just heated it up.”

Interesting. Something about Leia was distinctly different. Besides the obvious, of course—

“You changed your hair,” Luke blurted out. Nice, Luke. Apparently being sleep- and nutrient-deprived had removed his ability to hold a normal conversation.

But Leia didn’t seem bothered; she smiled again and pulled one section of long brown waves over her shoulder, so that her hair fell down her back. “We were on Kashyyk,” she said. “I was feeling a little…hairless.”

He chuckled a little at that. “I guess you would,” he said. “Um, how did you end up—“

“On the Falcon?” she finished. Now it was her turn to chuckle. “I missed my transport on Hoth. And the hyperdrive broke, and—”

Suddenly Luke understood. He’d barely seen any interaction between Han and Leia at all yet, but he could see it in her face, feel it in her presence. He turned toward her, unable to conceal the knowing smile on his face. “You and Han—“

Leia’s face lit up with that unguarded smile, the one Luke had only seen once in a great while. He suspected it had become a lot less rare recently. “Me and Han. Yeah,” she confirmed, and then looked a little apologetic for a moment. “Luke, I’m—“

“No, no, it’s great,” he assured her, grinning. “It’s—I’m really happy for you guys.”

“I love him,” she said, and it would have sounded like a confession if she hadn’t been radiating with so much happiness. Apparently once that smile made it to her face, it had trouble leaving.

“Yeah, you do,” Luke said. “Ah, Chewie must be so relieved!” Han and Leia’s love for each other had been obvious, inspiring, yet maddening to their closest friends. It was amazing, the lengths to which they had gone in their misguided attempts to protect each other from pain by staying apart, only to end up hurting each other anyway.

“Chewie was probably about five minutes from throwing us out the airlock before we went to Kashyyk,” Leia said dryly. “He spent six weeks trapped in sublight with us while we, ah, figured things out.”

Luke laughed. Was that a blush on Leia’s cheeks? He was pretty sure he’d never seen that from her before. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d had an eventful few weeks.

Gods, but it felt good to be back with his friends. He accepted a cracker from the sleeve Leia was holding, chased it with another few sips of broth.

Leia slipped an arm around him, gave him a bit of a squeeze. This was like it used to be, when they would have their long talks, spend time just hanging out together between missions, or on the down time during missions.

Han was leaving to pay off Jabba, Luke remembered. Han and Leia had managed to figure out the love thing, obviously, but he wondered how much they had managed to figure out about what to do about the main thing that had been keeping them apart. If they were on Kashyyk before this, maybe—

“So—“ Luke began.

Leia’s face grew a bit more serious again, determined. “We’re figuring it out. Coming up with a plan. I’m not letting him face Jabba alone.”

At least they were talking about it. But they hadn’t quite figured it out yet, it seemed. Understandable. Tough, but understandable.

Luke didn’t say anything, but took Leia’s hand and squeezed it. They were quiet for a few minutes.

Maybe now was not the best time to bring up the other big thing. But he wanted to talk about it with just Leia, first, so this was as good a time as any. And he’d finished the broth.

He put the cup down on the table beside the bunk. “Ah, Leia?”

She looked at him, her brown eyes huge. Her hand was still in his.

“Do you know how you found me?”

[wandernkevin]

Last Year’s Misadventure on the Superior Hiking Trail

I sit here today at Trout Creek Camp on the Superior Hiking Trail, every time I come out here people say it will be flowing… yet again! Trout Creek is dry, I’ve never seen any water over there. Anyway, I’m here today on day 0, I never really count the first day because you have to get where you’re going before you head out, I mean I usually spend the night before on the trail then begin the real hiking. So, less than 2 miles today.

This is the most people I’ve ever seen at the Trout Creek Campsite, there is a group of 8 young people here and I see a lot of heavy gear, including, a full-size ceramic coated pot, the thing is HUGE! I ain’t seen one of the things since the last time I went to a group camp for a school trip.

I don’t plan on eating tonight because I ate way too much on the way up here, I knew that’s how it would go so I didn’t pack any food for today. Water on the other hand, well I’m drinking a lot, temperatures are great, nice and cool, but it’s been a while since I’ve been out here. I noticed my water filter is a little tight, hopefully, it doesn’t clog, the problem isn’t the filter, the problem is backflushing a filter with sink water, I’ve heard there’s too much gunk in sink water and it calcifies the filter, user error. Sawyers are getting cheaper these days so I’ll grab another one before my next adventure. Also, they have a fitting so you can backflush with your clean water bottle. I totally have to get one of those, it just makes so much more sense than the plunger.

Once again, I proved the scent proof bags I use for a food bag liner work. Because yet again a chipmunk hopped right passed the bag was laying on the ground. While we are on the subject of food bags, Trout Creek Camp can be a pain to find somewhere to hang your food.

Day 1, Trout Creek Camp to Devil’s Track

I lost the top to my phone mount, so… no cool overlook pictures. I left trout creek this morning and managed to make it to Devil’s Track! I had to descend into the canyon at Devil’s Track at night which seemed sketchy as the edge of the trail was pitch black. I can only assume there’s a cliff there. I’m very interested in seeing what’s out there, I’m staying at the west camp. It seems nice, today was my first ever 20-mile day! The new insoles are working great. Before I wouldn’t even have attempted 20 miles, my feet would start feeling like this after 10. Mission success, I’m not going to bother eating, I took a break at the Pincushion Mountain Trailhead and ate some jerky and banana chips there. Shame, I was looking forward to a hot meal. I managed to gather a liter of water in the dark, I drank half now and I already know I’m going to wake up in the night thirsty so I’ll save the rest for that, perhaps I’ll make the Ramen for breakfast.

Day 2, Let the Misadventure Begin!

I was doing so well, but my sawyer bag ruptured, the sawyer was just too calcified to work right, it too much pressure to filter the water and BAM, the bag separated at the top. It’s just sitting over there taunting me. I have some bad luck with water filters, on the thru-hike, last year, guess what? Yep, the filter failed. So now I have to turn back. Lesson learned, don’t backwash sawyers with tap water. Another lesson also finally learned, bring a backup for water treatment. Boiling does not count! It takes way too long to cover good ground when you have to boil. I’m thinking about iodine, it’s easy, fast and light. But it tastes horrible, I’ve used it before in a 2-week excursion in the Canadian side of Lake of the woods, fortunately, someone had a filter. That was a long time ago, back when the only filters available were like $300+ and clogged pretty fast.

Just remember, with important things like water when you are out in the wilderness, redundancy is key. What would happen if I needed to get off the trail ASAP and boiling was just delaying me? Could become a life-threatening situation pretty quick.

I was able to get off the trail, I hiked back to the Pincushion Trailhead, then through Grand Marais and most of the way to Cascade River State Park along Highway 61 before finally I was able to hitch a ride, two guys in a big truck really helped me out. Also, that was the third time I’ve had to hitchhike, so 3/3 success rate, I have nothing to complain about.

I already ordered a new filter, I’m waiting at base camp until it arrives, then I’ll head back out.

Although I failed to complete my challenge, from the beginning this has been about hiking 20 mile days, which I succeeded. Then completing the North Country Trail hike 100 challenge. So, there will be an update in route but nothing is gonna stop me from getting the 2018 patches. NOTHING.

The Updated Route

The new route is pretty much the same as the old one just shorter as I am running out of time to complete the 100-mile challenge. With my existing 40 miles the below route will total 100.7 miles:

Cascade – Bally creek pond 11.2 (Hike 50 Challenge complete) Bally Creek pond – Devil’s Track 10.5 Devil’s track – Kimball 9 Kimball – Devil’s Track 9 Devil’s Track – cascade 21 (hike 100 challenge complete)

One last push on the way back to cascade doing 21 miles, I know it can be done! I’ll have a nice state park campsite and a shower waiting for me when I get back.

Pre-Hike Again, in Grand Marais, Artists Point, and Cascade River State Park

I stopped in Grand Marais to eat some pizza with a view before heading to the campground. Artists Point is a great place to stop and eat some food from town.

This time I’m staying at the Cascade River State Park Campground, got site #30 non-electric, close to the showers, this is great for a tent, there’s a little spot inset in the back to set up. Also, in case you are wondering, the Cascade River State Park shower facility has always been clean and well maintained every time I’ve been here. It’s a newer facility and I have to say it’s my favorite out of the North Shore State Parks. I do have one problem though, the vending machine in the trail center used to have root beer, now it doesn’t and that is disappointing. I’m already settled in and don’t want to go back into town.

Cascade River State Park to Bally Creek Pond Camp South

I head out around 7 – 8 am, had a smooth start for the most part. The GoPro already died, it just can’t handle 40° nights…

I’m taking a lunch break alongside the cascade river, as you can see from the photo below, it was a nice place to teak a break!

Made it to bally creek pond camp south, I’m staying here for the night. Boy, it’s chilly with the wind blowing out here.

The water at the bally creek campsites comes from the pond, filtered with a sawyer it tastes earthy but clean. The CNOC bottle I got works great! It grabs 2 liters out of the pond real fast. Check out the Cnoc Outdoors Vecto 2L Water Container, 28mm, Orange on Amazon – https://amzn.to/2QOJGkG *.

I still have a breakfast bar, a cliff bar and a Ramen that I can eat today. I had a 400 calorie candy bar for breakfast so I have some extra food for today. I need to wait until at least 6 pm to make the Ramen. I want the warm food in the belly closer to bedtime. I’ll have to wait until then to use the new BRS stove – https://amzn.to/2yiQRui *. I boiled 2 cups at basecamp with it and I was impressed. I’m looking forward to using it the field.

A Rainy Day Back to Devil’s Track West Camp

Sleeping pad has a small leak, had to reinflate several times throughout the morning. I’m not going to be able to find the leak without soapy water, so I’ll just be dealing with it for now. I have the REI flash all season (regular wide), I do like it but people have had some problems with it. I’m hoping this is just a pinhole leak. Otherwise, if I can’t find the leak I’ll return it.

Oh, boy did it rain today! Started around when I left camp and stopped when I got to Devil’s Track West. My poncho did a great job keeping everything dry, it’s heavy but it works so well, I don’t really want to replace it. My hat worked beautifully as well, keeping my head dry from the rain. My shoes are soaked, not much I can do about that. I’m more concerned that the temps for the rest of the hike have lows down to 32° and my sleeping pad is leaking… If I could find the hole I could patch it.

Quite the Superior Hiking Trail Misadventure

I’m at Devil’s Track Camp West, AGAIN. It’s going to be a cold night at 34°, I timed the leak on the sleeping pad. It lasts 19 minutes until my butt hits the cold ground. I put my z-seat under there, that should buy me some time before my core touches the ground. It’ll be cold enough to instantly wake up. At that point, I will reinflate the sleeping pad. It’s too dangerous in these temperatures not having a trustworthy sleeping pad. Once again it’s time to turn around… The sleeping pad completely failed. It’s gonna be a rough night, I miss my x-therm, I should have just got the long version, that would have lasted.

At least the North Country Trail Hike 50 is complete…

Just missed the freeze!

Being out on the trail without a sleeping pad in freezing weather is dangerous, the ground will suck the heat right out of you, leaving you hypothermic. I pushed hard over 20 miles to get back to cascade, gear heavy with water from the rain days prior, boots soaked through, the big freeze incoming, and freezing lake winds the pierce right through your entire being. But I made it back so hey, I call it a success…

So I’m off the trail again, but I still have a reservation at Cascade River State Park Campground for Sunday. I’m going to day hike the remaining 20 miles, 10 on Sunday and 10 on Monday. I’ll still be pushing forward to cover the previous route but I won’t be camping on the trail, I’ll be in the nice warm camper car.

Pincushion Trailhead to Woods Creek Camp and Back

I spent the better part of two weeks trying to cross the bridge over the Devil’s Track river, and finally today there was no gear failure! It’s crazy to think I had gear fail in the same place twice in a row, the filter and the sleeping pad.

The views from this side of the river are spectacular as you can see from the photo of Devil’s Track Canyon and Lake Superior on the horizon. This was taken near the Barrier Falls Overlook, which at first was disappointing because you can’t see Barrier Falls, too many trees in the way. It took some effort to finally get out here given the gear situation but it was still well worth it.

After the hike, I stopped at the Angry Trout Cafe and had a bison tenderloin and it was absolutely delicious, so much that I had to share it here!

Lindskog Rd Trailhead 5 miles Out and Back

Today I was leaving Cascade River State Park to finish the hike and a wolf walked right up to my car! Got about two feet away and slowed down before continuing on up the entrance road. I was so stunned by the unexpected encounter that I couldn’t even grab the camera to shoot some photos. Part of me is disappointed I didn’t grab the camera, but it is more important to capture the memory of an experience in your mind before taking pictures, I’m an adventurer, I don’t consider myself a photographer. My adventure is more important to me that capturing it on film, but it would have been pretty sweet. Back to the hike!

This was a pretty average hike for me to be honest, the trail follows woods creek for a while. I noticed that the water is so much clearer here, I refilled my bottles at Duffree Creek and the water is almost crystal clear with just the slightest brown tinge from tannins in the water, which is common in the forest. The most notable part of this hike was the length of this unobstructed view of Lake Superior from the trail, I don’t believe this is even an “official” overlook, It’s just part of the trail.

Finally, I Finished to NCT Hike 100 Challenge!

This is the second year I have finished the North Country Trail Hike 100, and this year they also had the Hike 50 Challenge which I also completed. I think this is a great program that motivates not just people like me, but everyone to get out there and hike the NCT in their state. Minnesota is fortunate that the Superior Hiking Trail follows this route, not only do you get some nice patches, but you also get great memories and the best views in the entire state.

I’ve been many places in my lifetime and I still stand by my saying that the north shore of Minnesota is the most beautiful and unique place I’ve ever been.

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[deathbyvalentine]

Frankly Too Many Prompt Fills

Lucy -  Wedding Ring

She twisted it around her finger, a habit she had never truly grown out of when she was anxious. The bar was busy for a Wednesday night, full of business types either networking or celebrating. Suits were finely pressed and watches and phones glinted from every angle. It was a far cry from what the Aquinas Nether would call a social space.

But then, she was a far cry from what they would call a lady. Ridiculous dresses discarded, she was back to her soft jeans and smart jackets that had characterised much of her teenage years. There was still traditional touches - her jewels and the cut of her neckline, but she looked merely vintage rather than archaic. 

She was never fully at ease in the Mundane world, though she was a damn sight better than most. She took a breath and settled her hands in her lap, forcing calm. The meeting would be quick and painless. Joshua was a friend of Edwin’s, so could be counted on to be a good sort. He had a business venture he was seeking advice on - mostly how it would be viewed across the water in England. Predictably, she was now considered the family expert on all things English.

He arrived, a little out of breath, hair fluffy from the wind outside. “Lucy?” He queried, a bright smile appearing on his face when she stood and greeted him, barely reaching up to his shoulder. They shook hands and took their places at the table, him graciously buying her drink.

Joshua wasted no time in talking business. He was a passionate young man, his eyes glimmering with excitement and plans. She realised, with a jolt, she could not actually be very much older than him, and yet she felt as though she had lived a hundred lives more. She gave him the advice she could, advising him on how the English Nether lot handled their properties and what business moves they would see as unspeakably rude. 

When they had exhausted that topic, she found she was rather engaged with him. He seemed want to know everything about her, asking questions after her tastes in music and art. She was ashamed to admit she found herself quite pleased, responding demurely and with that high fluttering laugh she reserved solely for those she liked.

He at one point put his hand on her arm, and she looked down, cheeks heating up. If there was any doubt before, there was none now. The electric young man was flirting with her. This was no great revelation. She saw no point in false modesty. She was pretty and funny and men liked her. She was more surprised at how she appeared to be flirting back.

Until his eyes flickered down to her hand and saw the unobtrusive little ring sitting there, on her ring finger. Automatically she turned her hand over, taking a sip of wine with her other. “Oh, you’re married?”

She hesitated. Yes. She was married. She hadn’t signed any paperwork, hadn’t sent any letters to Tom, hadn’t done much else but packed her belongings and went home, scarcely a word passing between them. When she thought of him, a hundred emotions flitted through her head and so few of them were good.

And yet.

The thought of separating from him, of cutting his life from hers quite so decisively was as frightening to her as standing on the precipice of a cliff. He was hers, her husband and she did not want to admit that perhaps it wasn’t true. He was flawed and repressed and sometimes unkind, but he had glimmers in him. Memories of their teamwork, of his gentleness, of his arms around her could not be dislodged or forgotten. She would not take off the ring, because to do so would be admitting that he would never be in her life again, would never hold her, would never be that reassuring presence to her flighty one. Her throat tightened - she could hardly bear it. 

“Yes. I am.”

Adorable

It wasn’t that the term was inaccurate. It was that it wasn’t all she was. It tended to be all men saw. Their mistake. Humans had spent millennia learning that bright colours on snakes and toads and frogs did not mean they were safe. They should have learnt the same of little girls.

Her hair was blonde and pin straight. Her eyes were wide and bright blue. She was unusually short for her fourteen years and had delicate wrists. She wore bows in her hair, adored the colour pink and spoke in a high soft voice. Adults liked her nice manners and how clean she looked. 

Vanessa was not nice. Vanessa was not delicate. She was not innocent or soft or gentle, or anything people assumed from her appearance. The last of Vanessa’s soft edges had been filed off the moment she had realised something fatal - she was pretty. She had been looking at herself in the mirror, trying to connect herself with her body, that she existed, that this was all she was. The realisation hit her suddenly and with violence. It took her a few more years to realise that pretty could not only be an advantage. It could be a weapon.

She leaned over countertops on tip toes, whispering orders into floundering waiters ears. She crossed her legs in short skirts and bobbed her ankle in school, chewing on the end of her pencil and pretending not to feel her classmates eyes on her skin. Everything was engineered - every bubble popped, every thumb sucked, every heavy blink. 

Look all you like. But don’t touch. People learnt that lesson the same way they would a rattlesnake. 

The first instance was at a 7-11, when she was standing in a queue, phone clutched in one hand and a slushie in the other. A college boy who should have known better dared to brush his finger tips under the edge of her skirt. She turned as though burnt, slushie already lashing out to land fully in his face. It didn’t end there.

It ended with a car in a ditch, blood splattered against the steering wheel, window bent and cracked. It ended with him wheezing for air, no help immediately forthcoming. It ended with snapped breaks, with no clues.

Vanessa would not apologise for her nature.

‘Let’s Play At Being Slaves.’ I Whispered.

The room was dim and dark, lit only by the streetlights outside. The furniture in the room was painted in silhouette, shadows framed against the orange glow. I was crouched in front of the sofa, looking up at Sofia up on the cushions. Her eyes were wide, her black hair streaked with amber light. Her hands were tight on the edge, white knuckled. Upstairs, the adults were asleep. This was now our own private world. 

They didn’t know about the games girls played. The rituals we performed, the secrets we whispered. We were not sugar and spice. We were witches. We were scorpions. We were murderesses and orphans and ghosts. We scrabbled at each other with stubby nails, pretending to be lions ripping apart David. We poured every berry and leaf we found into water, mixed it with mud and sticks, called it a potion and dared each other to drink it. 

My favourite place in the whole world was the graveyard, with it’s stone and moss and solemnity not find it melancholy. I found it wild. I loved the birds singing with fierce joy, refusing to feel the shadow of death across their feathers. The insects didn’t care that they were meant to be respectful. 

Our dolls were our totems, our poppets, our souls. We cut their hair and painted their skin and made them both in our image and out of them. They died with frequency, drowned or hurled from kitchen countertop cliffs. And they were always, always reborn at the first break of day.

The Doctor's Day Off 

Tommy had only intended to pop home for two minutes to change before a date with Paris. He’d be back in Greece before nightfall. Jones was at the medical centre, unsurprisingly. If the sun was in the sky, that’s where she’d be. His chest was half covered by a clean shirt when the doorbell rang. He paused. Couldn’t be any of the bullshit club. None of them knocked, they just let themselves in. For similar reasons, it was unlikely to be anyone who wanted to kill him.

He padded down the stairs in his bare feet, yawning blearily. He had barely unlocked the door when a high shrieking assaulted his ears, quickly followed by a babble of a language he didn’t speak. He blinked, processing the scene in front of him. 

The fae with blue skin was pouring with purple blood and making a high pitched keening sound, held by the one with green skin who was also the one with an angry expression and an angrier voice, throwing words around in their native language. Tommy stepped aside to let them in, pointing them to the dining room where the table had never seen use as a food holder but had seen too much as an operating table. 

Of course they happened to arrive when Jones was at her normal job. Of course. He snapped on some plastic gloves, trying to get some sense out of the both of them. Soon they realised he only spoke english and switched to it, albeit begrudgingly. From what he could gather, there was something of a seelie/unseelie gang war occurring in the woods and it was no longer being contained to dawn or dusk. Tommy felt he deserved a medal for the amount of patience he showed through this interaction, managing to resist calling either of them idiots.

First job was the grossest. Rearranging the insides that had half slipped out of place when the gash in the abdomen had opened. Harder than it sounds, considering he had no real idea about fae anatomy. He figured the second heart would go behind the liver shaped thing, and the intestines would probably make something like a spiral pattern. He managed to avoid pulling faces when his hands were literally inside of their flesh. Just. 

Sewing them up was easy in comparison, even if he did end up needing to use a much thicker needle and a thread that didn’t blend so easily into purple blood. It wasn’t the most perfect stitching in the world, but it was better than bleeding out in a ditch. He gave them some dressings and sent them on their way.

He was five minutes into scrubbing his hands clean when the doorbell rang again. Distantly, he heard a shrieking coming from outside. He groaned and let his head his the bathroom mirror. Maybe he should just invite Paris here.

Harlequin

The easy thing to do would have been to blame it on him. To sign off her madness like she had signed off her last name, pushed it over to his camp, wash her hands of all responsibility. She might not even have been wrong to do so. His pushing and prodding and poking had definitely sped her way towards going off the deep end.

But she liked her madness being hers. She was proud of it. She had taken the seed and cultivated it until it bloomed into a nasty flower. She had tossed away the meekness and polite manners that had never fitted quite right. Shredded her beige pantyhose and grey dresses. Cut her hair unevenly and wore bright eyeshadow and lipstick at the same time. She talked to herself, saw insults and adoration where there was none and didn’t stop herself from biting when it was deserved.

Madness wasn’t all pretty, but it was freeing. She didn’t care about being pretty. Not anymore. She would no longer deny her worst impulses for fear of how it would make her look. She liked bared teeth more than her smile, her nails like talons instead of manicured. Watch out world. She was a madwoman now. Attics and asylums and hospitals would be her home and she would release any woman she came across trapped inside them.

UTS - Popular 

He couldn’t actually picture himself popular. So much would have to change. He would have to be rich, he would have to live on the right side of the tracks. His clothes would have to go - out the faded flannel and torn jeans, the home-done hair cut and repaired glasses. 

He could see glimpses of it sometimes, when he wore the clothes Wendy well meaningly shoved towards him, or Freddy’s jacket sat around his shoulders. He imagined waking up and going to school, surrounded by friends, not glancing over his shoulder. Getting invited to parties in houses with pools, drinking booze that cost more than a few quid, teachers smiling at him in corridors.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted it. You couldn’t miss what you had never had. He wasn’t sure he could cope with the pressures of social perfection, if he could stand being quite that vapid, if maintenance of his personality was something he wanted to focus on. And the group that milled around in the halls, perfume and glitter pouring off them, he didn’t like a single one of them. Even the one he was fucking. 

What was it about popularity that made you into a grade A dick? Did you get a brain transplant as well as a stupid nickname? He hoped never to find out.

T67 - Scams 

She applied the glittering lipstick, admiring herself in the mirror. She looked like an utter daydream, baby pink hair curling down to her bare shoulders in fluffy clouds, big blue eyes framed with gold stars. Astrid was often unaware of her looks, but right now it was impossible to think she was anything but beautiful. She slipped the lipstick down her cleavage, and admired herself one last time. Then it was back into the rave.

The lights were flashing and blue, and occasionally ultraviolet, making Astrid’s nails and some flecks of her glitter light up. Heads turned. A small smile flickered on her face. She liked the attention. She drew it towards her as she made her way to the centre of the dancefloor. She loved dancing, and it showed, body moving to the thumping beat, feeling it through her feet. Her eyes drifted across the bar and she found her mark. He was wearing a suit, the tie looking like it was made of some tightly woven mesh, his cufflinks flickering through advertisements. His eyes dragged up her body and when they reached her eyes, she did not shy away. 

It was a slow game. One made of many dances, many glances and finally, a slight touch on her wrist. He had finally joined her, his chest against hers, his hands finding her waist. He leaned down towards her lips and she tilted her head so his lips made contact with her neck. She tangled her fingers with his, kissed his knuckles and after three songs, lead him from the dancefloor, catching the eye of Syn as she left.

The cloakroom was warm but blessedly quiet, and Astrid had to stand on tiptoes to finally kiss him. Her lips grazed his, his tongue flicking out to taste her. It took a few seconds for the effect to take place. His pupils widened, his breathing hitching a little. Another minute and he was asleep. Astrid loved her lipstick. Carefully she turned the gentleman over, hand slipping into his pocket to retrieve his credits and wallet, the watch around his wrists, his IDs. She left the cloak room, shutting it behind her and going to find Syn.

Imaginary Friends Tea Party

I don’t know why people think little girls’ imaginary friends are sweet. Mine never were. And now, with them all sitting around the table, I realised they still weren’t. Except now I was clever enough to be afraid of them. 

I raised the tea cup to my lips, ignoring the slight clatter when I placed it back down onto the plate. I hid my hands in my lap, not wishing for them to see my trembling. They looked like they smelt fear as clearly as blood. 

The First sat at the other end of the table and I wasn’t versed in etiquette enough to know if he was the head of the table or I was.  I avoided his eyes every time I glanced up, pretending to be fascinated by the silverware, the napkins. 

He was a brute, unreasonably huge. He was what I thought wolves looked like, informed only by picture books and my father’s imitation howling. There was a shock of grey fur, shot through with black, a muzzle that was disproportionately large. His teeth were sharp and his mouth was red red red. He was not delicate, shoving his nose into tea cups, slobbering all over the delicate saucers. He did not have a name. There was a noise I used to make to summon him, beyond words. 

Beside him, there was the one from when I was old enough to realise that I was a girl. She was doll like, tiny and short, golden curls hitting her tiny waist. Her eyes were a little too big for her face, her movements slow and measured. Her name was Grace and I loved her once. She was an idol, a mentor and a crush all at the same time. I wanted to be her and when I was a teenager I wanted to destroy her. The cracks showed now, up along her forearms, at her temples. Her mouth was red too, but gave the impression that the wrong touch would smear them.

There were more animal-like creatures dotted here and there, looking like nothing that actually existed but like an amalgamation of many. It wasn’t actually the mammal constructions that frightened me the most. It was the bird-like creatures, with sharp movements, beaks and talons. None of them were plain - all of the colours were eyewateringly bright. These tended to be from when I was younger, fascinated with the world around me. As I got older, they took on different shapes.

They were human shaped, all of them. Their eyes flickered to look at me constantly, adjusting their movements whenever I moved, like I was the sun around which they all orbited. In a way, I was. Lonely, frustrated, surrounded by depictions of love that seemed out of reach. So all of my imaginary friends built when I was a teenager had one thing in common - they adored me. 

Ailliana wanted to be my best friend. She thought I had the best advice and the best hair and the best sleepovers. Tate thought I was the most gorgeous thing to ever walk the earth, always wanted to hold my hand and stroke my hair when I slept. Ethan (as I got older, they nearly all became boys) featured mainly in the soft time before sleep, where I would dare to imagine his lips on mine, his body pressing me into the mattress. 

This meal had the feeling of an intervention to it, I realised. They wanted to know where I had been, what I had been doing. The reason given was curiosity but I saw the sidelong looks, the clenched fingers around cutlery. The accusation thar sat as heavy in the air as Grace’s perfume.

Why had I left them? Well, I had replaced them with flesh and blood. I had found that I rather enjoyed it when I didn’t know what someone was about to do. I loved looking over at my friend and trying to guess what they were thinking. People were entire worlds contained. My imagination was only a reflection of myself. And I didn’t always like my reflection.

But I wanted them to go even less.

The Fae Prince of Thorns

The stone walls had been carved to look as though they were not stone at all, but wood, growing naturally and strong. Unmoving marble leaves and ivy decorated each column, promising a breath of wind would shift them. False promises were woven into the fabric of this place. 

The throne looked rather plain in comparison to the surrounding hall. Flint, it looked like, pieced together to make the seat. A single beam of light from a hole in the far-away ceiling fell on it, letting in rain and sun alike. The reason became clear once you’d looked at the throne for a few moments. Inbetween the gaps of the flint, something grew. It curved around pieces of rock possessively, rooting it to the ground. The throne would be immovable. This place is where it lived and this place is where it would perish. It would outlast the monarchs that sat on its uncomfortable mantel. 

The Prince’s clothing (and to a lesser extent, skin) was covered in the small cuts and tears that told any passerby exactly where he had been sitting. It was an unofficial sign of office, less obvious than the crown of thorns that graced his head or the red rose that bloomed in his lapel, the only splash of colour in his otherwise monochrome outfit. 

When he sat on the throne, he did not flinch. He tossed his leg over the arm of the object as though he was lounging on a couch, his obsidian eyes trained intently on whoever had presented themselves to him that moment. Sometimes he would lean forward, placing an elbow on his knee and his chin in his palm, not concious at all of the small ripping sounds that would follow the forward motion. 

His title, it was rumoured, did not just come from the seat of the kingdom on which he sat. He looked soft at first glance - skin the dark blue of the royals, lips plush, hair pin straight, motions full of grace. It would be easy not to pay much heed to the fact he rarely smiles. But it is not his physical form that was thorny. His tongue and wit was known to destroy emissaries, reduce diplomatic relationships to tatters, break hearts. His appearance was the rose - it lured you in, so you didn’t notice the thorns.

The Heart of the Kraken

The deck was slick with blood, seawater and slime. Even the most seasoned sailors wrinkled their noses in disgust, stepping over the still twitching tentacles and broken planks alike to fetch more water to try and shift the viscera. It was half practical, half a method of avoiding looking at the scrum huddling over the body of the beast. 

It was Good Thomas who knelt closest, feeling for the dagger on his hip. The eye of the creature watched him with wary hatred. While it had dealt a fairly sizable blow to the ship, it had ultimately lost. Now it would pay for the loss with it’s life. Such was the way of things here. 

Good Thomas took the knife and as though gutting a pig, plunged it into the kraken and dragged it down, steadily. A cry of disgust went up as its insides spilled onto the deck, a stench following it shortly after. Thomas seemed oblivious to the reactions of his cohorts, rolling up a sleeve and plunging his arm inside the cavern he had created. Eyes closed, he felt around until he withdrew his hand.

His fist was closed around something. He gestured for a bucket, putting his fist inside it. Slowly, he washed whatever he was holding, until it was revealed. The green gem was sharp enough to cut his palm, scarlet mixing with the saltwater. There was a mass in the centre of it, darker than dark, looking like ink. Good Thomas held it up to the sunlight, watching it glitter. 

“Here it is lads.” He whispered, feeling his comrades lean in around him, no longer fascinated by the body of the monster and instead drawn in by the promise of treasure. “This is the start of it. We’re gonna be kings amongst men.” 

The Desert in His Heart & The Storm Rider

Once upon a time there was a beautiful king. His skin was as dark as the nights sky and his eyes sparkled like stars. He was just and noble and loyal, however, he was not perfect. He did not love easily or indeed at all. He was not unkind, but nor was he accustomed to softness. And because of this, he was accused of not truly understanding many of the struggles his people went through. He could trace back his troubles. As a child, he had been cursed by an old warlock to love like the desert until he found an oasis. Now, it was well known that the desert in which his kingdom resided, once you left the capital city by the river, the desert had no such oasis. And thus he was doomed to be lonely forever.

There were rumours however, that you could summon an oasis. But you had to call out to the son of the storm god, who would decide if you were worthy of rain or not. Not a single person had ever been judged worthy of his blessings so far. Entire caravans had perished for want of a single drop. 

The kings parents had been trying unsuccessfully for many years to find their son a marriage. He had refused all hands offered to him, stating that he would only marry for water or for love, and he had neither. However, it was becoming harder and harder to deny his parents. They argued that if he was never going to love anybody, what was the harm in marrying someone he simply liked?

They gave him a date - two weeks to find the oasis he sought, or he married the Princess of the Masonry Guild. She had been his best friend since birth, and though neither loved the other passionately, they enjoyed each other’s company. This seemed fair, if less than ideal, and he set out into the desert for one last attempt to find the oasis, and so his heart. 

On the first day, a mighty sandstorm blew across the rolling dunes. He continued walking, covering his eyes and mouth with a fine scarf that cost hundreds of pieces of gold to make. He walked for many miles before coming across an old man with eyes like emeralds coughing and spluttering. The king took off his scarf and gave it to the elder, and walked on without asking for compensation.

On the first night, when the sun sunk below the horizon, chill descended across the land. He set up a fire, and as he was getting ready to sleep, he saw a dog with eyes like green grass shivering not so far away. He brought him close to the fire, wrapped him in his cloak, and slept. When he awoke, the dog was gone along with his cloak.

On the second day, he saw a green rattlesnake trapped beneath a rock that would surely crush it. Despite the risk of poison, the king used his walking stick to free the creature, and when it curled around the staff, he decided to leave it rather than wrestle it from the tired animal.

On the second night, he was cooking some of the supplies he had brought with him. A child with eyes like seaglass watched hungrily from a nearby settlement. He gave the child half and when he was still hungry, gave him the rest too.

On the third day, he found himself further than he had ever walked before. He did not recognise the curve of the land or the whispers of the wind. He knew that before long, he would have to turn back or be lost to the sands forever. 

Between two dunes stood a young man who seemed as much a part of the desert as the grains beneath his sandaled feet. His eyes were like fresh mint and his sun-kissed skin shone with sweat. He was beautiful in a way that made the king suspect that he was seeing things, that nobody could be as perfect as this. But he approached nonetheless.

“Youth! Could you tell me where I could find an oasis?” “I could.” The young man looked him up and down, clearly deciding something. “But it would cost you all the jewels in your crown.” “Then the deal is done -” The king began to take the crown from his head when the youth caught his wrist, eyes wide in surprise. “But sir, you are the king. You could order me to tell you, or have me executed, or a million other punishments.” “I could.” The king reasoned. “But these jewels are not more valuable than the oasis I seek. And I seek the oasis to help my subjects. And you are one of my subjects, so I am bound to help you.”

As he spoke, clouds gathered above, darkening the sky that was a moment ago utterly clear. The green of the man’s eyes darkened until they resembled the depths of the ocean. The sky crackled and broke, and suddenly, between the dunes, rain began to fall, slowly, then faster and faster so water flowed down the dunes and began to form a pool.

The king watched, open mouthed and humbled, turning to the youth.

“It is you.” “It is me. I am the son of storms and I have been watching you, my liege. I was the old man, and the dog, and the snake, and the child. I wanted to be sure you were worthy of my blessings. I know you seek the oasis to seek your heart. But I see no lack of love in you. You are not lacking. Go with my blessing to your kingdom and rule it with the love you have shown here.”

The king fell to his knees and kissed the youths feet, thanking him both for the rain he had brought here and for the rain he felt filling his heart. He walked back to the palace, shoulders back, head held high.

He found his fiance, the daughter of stone, and told her what he had discovered. He told her off the journey, of the cold nights, of the beautiful youth. He also told her how he could think of nobody fairer to rule by his side and nobody cleverer to keep him in line. She could take any lovers she desired, if she desired any, love whoever she wished to love, but he still wished for her to be his partner, his friend and his queen. He would not love her as a poet, but he would love her like the sun.

Joyously, she agreed. She did not mourn the lack of carnal activities or romance (truth be told, she had always preferred women to men besides) and she celebrated the idea of being bound to her best friend. Silently, she said a prayer thanking the son of storms for making her friend see how little he was missing.

They were married and the kingdom had never seen better days. They lived to be old and of course, to be happy forever after. 

1970s Ghost Ship

There were no billowing sails here. No swinging ropes or creaking planks. The shape the mist was formed of metal and paint. And it was huge. It brought to mind the whales that moved beneath the waves, enormous silent shadows. The ship left no wake, made no sound. 

Inside, the corridors were lit by an eerie red light, occasionally flashing. An alarm had been set off and never put to rest, though the sound had long since burnt out. Every cabin is empty but the beds are in various states of disarray. Clothes linger on floors, ash remains in ash trays and in one case, a bottle of nail polish sits waiting to be used. 

 The bridge is the interesting bit. Only the light of the stars and moon filtered through the windows, but the control panel was still lit up in shades of green. The radar blinked, the small beeping sounding like cymbals in the silence of the ship. Inspect the display and it showed multiple foreign objects in the water around them. If you squinted, made sense out of the mist, there was nothing there. But still the radar beeped its warning to anybody that would listen.

Salmon Earrings

She hated them of course. They weren’t her at all. But what did he know of that? They were pink and pretty and therefore perfectly suited for his wife. They had been married for ten years. She crossed her ankles, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the small velvet box in her hands. She supposed she should still be grateful. That she had a husband that bought her presents for no reason at all. That kissed her cheek when he came home from work. That gave her money to hire nannies and cleaners and gardeners and anything else she liked. That loved her, for all intents and purposes.

Why did she loathe him so very much?

Was it his niceness? His utter lack of edges? His bland smile, his blue eyes? He was like the platonic ideal of a husband. But that was all he was. As a teenager she had dreamed of torrid affairs, of sex after tempestuous arguments, of love against all odds. What she had gotten wasn’t passion, wasn’t even love. It was tolerance. 

She snapped the box shut with a sharp snap that echoed around the perfectly tidied bedroom. 

Fundamentally, she was lazy. Of course she could pack her bags and leave. She could have an affair with a wild girl. She could scream and shout and smash every mirror in the place. But all of that was a lot of effort. And for all she despised him, she did enjoy the comfort of her life here. Her background was not moneyed - she had grown up in a house with cracked windows and no carpets. She did not want to go back to that life. She didn’t care if that wasn’t how this story was meant to go.

She prayed for an accident. For him to be hit by a car, a heart attack, lightning. To give her a reason to mourn publicly and loudly then move on. Then invite the wild girl into her house to be her mistress. To live her life free of strings and obligations. To be her own person, to be in control. She wondered what god she could pray to for that because the christian one didn’t seem to be particularly forthcoming.

Maybe she could be her own god. Make her own fate. She could lose her benevolence. Enact judgement. 

The Boy with the Pearl Earring

He lounged on the couch, shirt falling open. His eyes were half closed, hair tousled, cheeks flushed with either heat or wine. For some reason the artist’s eyes kept flickering to the pearl earring peeking through his ebony locks. Eroticism, the painter reasoned, was all in the details. The slight hint of blue at his wrist, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the ring on his finger. 

He had known the boy for a little while, though he had known him by sight for longer. He was in the same bar every evening, in the same seat, dark eyes watching the door for any likely clients. He was beautiful, and he was aware of it, and his business was swift and steady.

Gio wasn’t quite sure where he had managed to find the courage to ask him to model. Not that he had ever had any trouble before. Sex workers were used to such requests, no respectable noble willing to take their clothes off even in the name of art. He was however, the first man he had asked, and therefore the first there had been a spark of attraction with. The girls, he was friends with. They laughed and joked the entire time, stayed for dinner afterwards, teased him with promises of finding him a friend to settle down with. 

This was different. The air was charged. They hadn’t spoken much, the man just counting the coins and positioning himself on the couch, though he had been amiable to being told to make adjustments so the light from the wax candles fell on him perfectly. He was hyper aware of his own breath, every small movement he made, how he himself looked. It felt odd to feel he was the scrutinised one. He was usually safe behind the canvas. 

The boy opened his eyes and looked at him directly. He felt afire. His eyes were dark, impossible to discern pupil from iris. Gio swallowed, let his own eyes drop. For the first time, he was in the presence of the sublime.

It's a Sin to Tell a Lie 

They arranged themselves in a tableau, the blonde twins curled at the feet of Miss Anguila, Hermione and Elsie in the straight backed chairs they all loathed so much. Hermione’s hands were occupied with some embroidery, though if you inspected it closely you could see she was making rather a mess of it. Elsie had opted instead for paging through a book on the native birds of the land, seemingly utterly absorbed in it. Every white dress was spotless. Every cup of tea was steaming merrily. Even Arthur, the dog was well turned out and calm, snoozing by the empty fireplace.

They were thus arranged when the policemen knocked at the door. 

Miss Anguila gave each of the girls a warning look as she stood, smoothing her skirts. The twins sat up, looking less like smug cats and more like innocent children. Miss Anguila paused by the door, took a breath, arranged a smile then answered the door.

She let a surprised laugh escape, raising her hand to her chest. “Oh, gentlemen! To what do we owe the honour? Do come in, we’ve just brewed a fresh pot of tea -” 

The two men stepped inside, removing their helmets as they did so. They stood out, like foreigners fresh off the boat. They were men in a land designed for women. Every trinket was made for delicate fingers, everything decorated with fresh roses or frills or cherubs. They glanced at each other, biting their lips, trying not to touch anything they shouldn’t. The elder began to make demurring noises, but the younger nudged him and sat in the offered chair, on the very edge of the seat. After a moment, the elder followed. 

As the mistress poured the steaming tea into cups and saucers, Elliot (the younger) finally answered her question, turning his hat with anxious fingers. “Strictly procedural only miss. We shan’t take up much of your time.” “Oh, don’t be silly. It’s a pleasure, isn’t it girls?” A chorus of affirmative twitters and eager agreements came from behind her, colouring Elliot’s cheeks a alluring shade of pink. Edgar, the elder, frowned at his colleague and leaned forward, taking over the steer of the conversation. “You see miss, a man has gone missing. A Mr Samuel Thomas.” Miss Anguila arranged her skirts and took up her seat, one of the girls passing her cup to her. “Oh, I do recall him. He’s the horse merchant, is he not?” “That’s him miss. His wife hasn’t seen him since Friday night, and he isn’t in any of his usual spots, so we thought we’d do the rounds.” “At a girl’s finishing college?” She raised an arch eyebrow but Edgar didn’t quail as Elliot did. 

“Well, his wife said he sometimes had business here.” “He shoes the horses we own I suppose. But the groundskeeper would really know more about that. I try to keep my own contact with such masculine business minimal. It isn’t becoming for a lady to deal with money.” She cast an iron eye over her pupils who demurred softly.

“Of course not. We never meant to imply - “ Elliot began. “Water under the bridge. Now, my groundskeeper has Sundays off, but by all means return tomorrow, or I can pass along his home address. He doesn’t live too far away at all.” Edgar nodded. “That would be helpful.” He drained the last of his tea and stood, replacing the hat back on his head. Elliot followed, albeit reluctantly and with much less vigor, trying very hard to stop looking at Elsie. 

Anguila showed them to the door graciously, opening the door for them to take their leave. She gave a courtsey to each of the men, who each fumbled something resembling a bow. As he took a step out Elliot remarked on the freshness of the flower beds and the corresponding smell of spring.  “Nothing like a bit of fresh turned earth.” Miss Anguila smiled. “I quite agree.”

Albatross - HDM

The sky promised rain. The sea promised storms. Harry leaned on the rail, breathing in the salt air. His skin stung a little with the spray and the cold, but the tingling actually made him feel more alive, not less. He was made for this, the feeling of a heaving ship beneath his feet, his palms warm with rope burn, hair thick with salt. He knew this to be true. 

The confirmation had came when Kess had settled. He watched her now, her wing tips brushing the waves before she soared back up, as far as the bond would allow her to go. She was beautiful to watch, her huge wings responding to every updraft, every breeze. He could feel her joy, her freedom, and regretted only that his human half did not have wings to join her. Occasionally she fluttered back to affectionately nuzzle at his neck or gently peck at his fingers before once again throwing herself to the sea.

He wanted it to be like this, always. When he got too old to sail, he would find a house by the sea, as close as he could manage. He would leave the windows open wide to let her out and the sea in. He would live somewhere where rain and mist were common. Where the wildness of the the waves was so close he could hear it. 

When they dropped anchor, he had a ritual. He would strip his clothes off inch by inch, discarding them to the side. He would dive from the side of the boat, the water would drag every worry he did have from his skin. Kess would dive beside him, and it was the closest they would experience to being one body. It was the closest thing they had to heaven. 

[iggys-sous-chef]

Electric [Ignis x Female Reader]

Rating: M Word count: 7,193 [I’m a thirsty binch okay] They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but they never mention what it does for the libido. A week separated from your lover makes the temperature rise in the kitchen.

I absolutely adore the (equally thirsty and) superb quality of blogs like @louisvuittontrashbags @diabolik-trash-heap and @hypaalicious so this is a bit of a thank you to them as well. Can also be found on my AO3 this way

Electric

Movin' to the tempo, show me what it takes Speeding up my heartbeat, playing in the flames Kiss me, we're on fire, babe

----

Ignis let out a heavy sigh as he finally pulled into the parking garage of the apartment complex. He'd spent the last week at the Citadel, poring over maps with Gladio and attending meetings with His Majesty. He'd spent more time looking at graphs, bills, and official decrees than the backs of his own eyelids. He was pretty sure that Ebony was the only thing holding him together at this point.

He leaned back, momentarily resting against the seat as he shut off the engine. It was all finally done - for the moment at least. And it was this brief reprieve that he'd been looking forward to so much. He'd missed his bed; even though the Citadel offered many luxuries, there was nothing quite like the personal space of his home.

Rounding the car to the trunk, Ignis retrieved his satchel and dufflebag, and then made a beeline to the elevator. He closed his tired eyes as the lift carried him to his floor, and then once off he trudged down the far left end of the hall and to the only door. But then his hand paused, he could've sworn he'd heard something, some whirring grind. Cautious now, he quietly turned the handle and slipped inside.

The smell was the first thing to hit him - it was citrus, orange perhaps, and sweet. More curious than alarmed, he straightened from his defensive stance and headed toward the kitchen.

----

Well, this was just great. You were sure that Ignis was going to be home soon and you still hadn't finished the cake.  And like the total NON-baker you were, you had a little mishap with the mixer - and you were nearly 100% positive that some of the frosting you had been working on was in your hair. Now you had to start over and clean up.

Just when you thought things couldn't get any more awkward, a gentle throat clearing snagged your attention. Your breath hitched as you froze, caught, and slowly, you turned around. Standing there in the entryway - bag slung over his shoulder and hair wind-blown - was the man you'd been looking forward to seeing all evening.  You could feel yourself smile at the sight of him, your stomach twisting pleasantly as his lips twitched upward.

“Ignis!”

He dropped the bag there at the door and strode into the kitchen. His smile stretched as he stopped before you. “What a lovely surprise you make.”

You could feel your face grow hot at his words; somehow, he could always manage to pull that reaction from you. He enjoyed it, and you knew it.  Your gaze slid up to meet his, your excitement at actually seeing him - at being able to touch him if you wanted - was becoming harder to contain. You smiled back at him. “It’s just that I know you've been working hard so… I wanted to make you dinner. You know, give you one less thing to have to take care of.”

A gentle chuckle reverberated through his chest, and his eyes scanned the countertops noting the mess of puree and sugars. His brow lifted. “And what's all this?” he teased.

“Well,” you began as you took a step closer to him, “after dinner usually comes dessert.”

“And what is the dessert for tonight?” he inquired as he tilted closer, inching away some of the distance, but still nowhere as close as you'd like him.

Your foot shuffled toward his. “Orange creme cake."

“Did the oranges put up a fight?”

The playful lilt of his voice made your chest warm in both adoration and embarrassment, and you felt the need to defend yourself. But then he lifted his hand to cup under your jaw, his thumb grazing the outer corner of your lips before it swept across your cheek.

Your voice came out softer than anticipated. “Look, if you want a perfectly seasoned and blackened talley filet I'm your girl.  But baking?” You shook your head as you laughed at the botched attempt. “Not for me.”

“It smells delightful,” he reassured.

And you could feel it, right there at that exact moment, the shift in the air between you. The warmth of his hand seemed to flare out across your skin, and your gut tensed in anticipation. His gaze seemed to darken and you couldn't look away, but he broke eye contact first. His fingers sank into your hair as he brushed his thumb higher across your cheek, and then his touch was gone.

“But does it taste as sweet?” he wondered aloud before slipping his thumb between his lips, sucking the creme glaze from it.

Heat sprang forth just ahead of the confirmation that you didn't make it out of the fiasco clean. Your hand shot up to your cheek, wiping at the remnants with a chuckle. Ignis pulled his thumb free with a soft pop and then smiled - gentle and coy - but his eyes were shimmering with something far hungrier. This time, he swept in closer as he reached for you. His fingers carded through your hair, his body heat radiated across your skin, and by the gods if he didn't kiss you first then you were going to jump him.

“It's absolutely delicious,” he whispered as he leaned into you, but instead of connecting your lips together, the heat of his mouth descended upon your neck to suck more frosting from your skin. His arm slipped around your waist as you gasped. The slick glide of his tongue made your heart pound, but not quite like it did when you could feel him inhale deeply against you.

You let your your eyes fall close with a barely audible moan, your hand curling in the front of his shirt. His teeth scraped the sensitive juncture of your neck as he suckled your skin. It felt so good to be this close to him, to be wrapped in his arms. Your hand ghosted up around his shoulders to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. That familiar warmth tingled low in your spine, softly rippling out through your body.

Every inch of you was humming with the impatient hope for more, but then the plush of his lips dragged slowly up your neck.  The softest feather press of his kisses scattered across your jaw and his warmth retreated from you. His hand remained at your hip, flexing against you as an appreciative noise sounded low in his throat.

Your gaze followed perfectly pink tongue as Ignis wet his lips, and then your eyes shot back up to his as he tugged you closer.

“Perhaps… we could have dessert first,” he suggested.

The barely contained desire rasped in his voice and it did torturously wonderful things to your insides. It was nearly difficult to breathe, but then his mouth was upon yours and it didn't matter if you could or not. His large hands cupped your face as his lips worked against yours, setting the rhythm as his tongue coaxed its way into your mouth.

His tongue was hot, velvet friction caressing your own, encouraging that spark to ignite. But it had been so long since the two of you had been intimate that your fuse was already pretty short. You wanted him. Now. You pushed his jacket off of broad shoulders and then blindly felt for the buttons of his shirt, and once discovered, you immediately set to work undoing them.

His hands slipped back into your hair as his tongue retreated, followed a moment later by his mouth. “Slowly now,” he playfully chided, “you should savor it a little.”

“Ignis-" The words died on your tongue as he slipped the glasses off of his face and set them aside. By the predatory heat of his stare you knew you weren't the only hungry one.

His gaze dropped and then his lips pressed back to yours, meshing them together again and again. When you felt him nudge you backward, you followed, but the cabinet quickly halted your progression. However, it seemed it was exactly where Ignis wanted to go. He braced his hands on the counter, trapping you between them.

You tugged his shirt free from the waistband of his pants and fumbled with the final button. With his dress shirt fully open, you set your hands to his stomach, humming softly as your touch skimmed up his torso. Your palms swept up his pectorals and over his shoulders, pushing those pesky suspenders from his lean frame so you could rid him of his shirt. You could feel him move to aid you, but you were too caught up devouring the feel of his mouth. He felt so amazing, so hot, he left your head spinning.

You felt as much as you heard that deep moan resonate from within him before a strong thigh wedged itself between your legs. You gasped and clenched onto his bare arms, but he pressed forward, slipping his hands up your back. He pulled the tie free, loosening the apron from around your waist before continuing up until he met the neck strap.

You leaned after him as he broke the kiss, eager to remain connected to him. He chuckled at your enthusiasm as he pulled the strap over your head and let your apron join his shirt on the floor. You cracked open lust-heavy eyes, drinking in every inch of his exposed skin as your gaze climbed his sculpted stomach and chest. His muscles contracted oh so enticingly as he leaned down to you, his fingers skimming the skin along the edges of your skirt, tracing the outside of your knee.

The green of his eyes was electric, alluring, holding you captive as his touch continued to dance across your skin. Your fingers smoothed across his clean shaven jaw, your thumb brushing against his lower lip as you yearned to close the distance between you again.

Ignis’ hands swept higher, hitching your skirt up as he went. His touch raised gooseflesh and your hips undulated against his muscle-tight thigh, craving more of him. The gently callused pads of his fingers curled toward your inner thigh and your breath caught in your throat, but you could feel his, expelled against your lips as he continued to hover just out of reach.

He teased you with barely there passes of his lips, drawing you into the chase as he removed his thigh. You'd been so delirious on the promising fire of his kiss that you hadn't been aware he moved until his fingers traced the hem of your panties at the juncture of your leg. You gasped, feeling his touch so achingly close, but then his mouth was covering yours and his fingers pressed to your clothed sex.

A soft moan drifted from the meeting of your lips, your hands caressing down the firm planes of his back. Ignis’ fingers continued to rub teasing circles over your panties, glancing the swelling bundle of nerves every few passes. Between his dominant mouth and teasing touch your breathing increased - unable to do anything but accept the wondrous feelings he bestowed upon you.

Ignis could barely keep a rein on his blazing desire. He wanted nothing more than to turn you around, bend you over the counter, and drive into you until you were screaming his name. As appealing as that was, he also didn't want to rush his time with you. He didn't just want to be wedged in your heat, he wanted to burn with you - feel every tremble, taste every syllable of your name.

His mouth broke apart from yours; your breathy sigh sent a pleasant tingle down his spine, letting the feeling pool low in his gut. The feel of your hands gripping onto him as his lips traced along the column of your throat only spurred him on.

His breath rolled hot across your skin as his fingers continued to stoke the fire. Your head lolled back, allowing his roaming mouth more room. “Ignis…”

His fingers slid down, circling against the dampened spot of thin cotton. A chill swept through you as he hummed against your neck, his touch ghosting back to the waistband of your panties.

“Please,” you murmured, legs subconsciously widening. “Please…”

He smirked as he lifted his head, his fingertips finally sliding beneath the elastic band. “Mmm... only a brute would deny such a request.”

You gulped for breath as his fingers traced down your mound, skimmed the trimmed thatch of hair there. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, the anticipation of his touch too much to take, especially when he was watching you like that, eyes clouded with a deep longing. His lips mimicked yours, gently parting, as his finger dipped lower, passing over your clitoris to sweep between your folds.

Ignis drew his bottom lip into his mouth to contain his smile. “Look at how wet you are already.”

You managed to find your voice, as breathy as it was, as he teased your labia, spreading the proof of your desire. “I can't help it… it's what you do to me.”

“Well, then, shall we see what else I can claim responsibility for?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but instead a hushed moan was drawn from your lips as he pushed a single long finger into your slick heat. Ignis’ soft noise of approval echoed in your ears  as he sank knuckle deep. His hand rocked against you, angling his finger - two, three times- before withdrawing.

You nearly whined at the loss of him. He could be such a tease! It really was unfair - even if you did enjoy it. But those thoughts were gone as he added a second finger with ease and slanted his mouth over yours. Your tongue caressed his as you tried to communicate how amazing he felt as he teased you with deep, languid strokes.

Ignis moaned against your lips, the soft slick sound of your body taking his fingers got him so hard. But he was a patient and giving man, and he knew that withholding just a bit longer would make it all worth it. Your soft mewls echoed against his mouth and he savored each one, curling his fingers just so to earn another and another. And then he pulled his fingers free, setting them along the side of your clit.

Just when you could feel yourself spiraling into the sensation, Ignis moved his fingers, changing his tactic. So when he started to circle your sensitive nub, it caught you off guard and you cried out against him before wrenching your lips away. Your head hung forward, breaths falling ragged as you clenched his arm, feeling his tendons and muscles work as he pleasured you relentlessly.

Your knees started to tremble, and for a moment you couldn't breathe as the bliss became almost too much to bear. And then suddenly his fingers were slipping back inside you and you whined - you had been so close.

His other hand caught your chin, his hum dancing along your jaw. “That's what I like to hear.” The heel of his hand pressed to your clit as he rocked his fingers, dragging them slowly against your feminine walls, tapping against that wondrous spot within you with every hook of his in-stroke.

You lifted your eyes to meet his and nearly shuddered at the intensity of them. He was watching you so intently, his gaze flickering to your tongue as you wet your lips. And while composed, the shallow breaths and flush dusting his cheeks and chest said otherwise. He looked nearly… primal… ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. And Six did you want him to devour you.

His voice came out gravelly and low. “Take off your shirt.”

Like he had to tell you twice. You eagerly tore your tank top over your head, letting it join the growing pile of clothes. No sooner than it was gone, did his lips descend upon you. The heat of his mouth blazed along your collarbone, cut a path down a breast before biting your supple flesh through the cup of your bra. You arched against him and he took the opportunity to wrap his arm around you,  keeping you close as he dragged his tongue across your chest sinfully slow. He one-handedly unhooked your bra and eagerly shoved it off your body.

Slick fingers trailed back to your clit as his mouth closed around a pert nipple. You curled your fingers into his hair, holding him to your chest as he sucked the sensitive bud between his teeth.  Your head fell back, lost to the buzzing warmth that spread out from your core through every fiber of your being.

Ignis flicked his tongue over the pebbled peak, sucking it hard before releasing you with a sharp pop. He grinned as a mewl parted your lips, as you greedily sucked in fresh breath between whimpers of his name. The sound of your voice as you dissolved into pleasure - knowing it was his doing - was one of the things he enjoyed most. He could feel you shiver in his arms and he sighed against you as he took your other breast into his mouth to give it the same treatment just as he sank his fingers back inside your dripping hole.

A startled cry rose from your mouth as his fingers plunged inside. The wet slap of his hand against you would've been embarrassing if you weren't on the edge of such mind-blowing euphoria. But right now you didn't care - couldn't bring yourself to. He could ask you to do the most debaucherous act he could think of and you'd agree in a heartbeat so long as he didn't stop. And he seemed to know this.

His tongue swirled lazily around your nipple as he pulled back to look at you. “Do you want to come, kitten?”

“Ignis… please…” don’t do this to me.

“I'm just looking for affirmation, love,” he purred. “Do you want to come?” he asked again, stressing the enunciation of each word.

“Mmm… yes,” you moaned, feeling light as his fingers prodded that swollen tissue within you.

Gods, you looked so beautiful right now, but Ignis was determined to fully unravel you. “How badly do you want it? Tell me.”

You couldn't believe he was doing this, now of all times, and you whined his name. “Ignis!”

His digits trailed back up. “Tell me-" one of his fingers gently pulled back the hood of skin over your clit as the other slowly dragged across it “-and I'll give it to you.”

It was far too sensitive, and you twitched with every pass of his touch, your grip tightening around his arms. “Oh~ shit! Hah… I-!”

But Ignis didn't give you so much as an inch, his fingers remained steady, teasing. “You?”

You lifted your head to look at him; his smug, expectant expression was unfairly sexy. “I… please Ignis…”

He smiled as he watched you squirm, your cheeks and eyes heated as tremors worked through your body.  “As cute as it is, now’s not the time for you to play shy. I can do this all night, you know, keeping you right there but never allowing you to fall over, until you're a mess and begging me to let you… I'd much rather hear you just ask for it right now.”

His finger circled faster, just for a moment, long enough to make your breath catch and your knees wobble. As his touch slowed again, you found yourself panting against him and your words came tumbling out. “I… I wore this skirt today just so you'd have easy access.  I've been thinking about this moment all day and-" You drew in a sharp breath as he rewarded your admission, your eyes falling close before forcing them open again.

“And?” he pressed, his voice falling like silk on your ears.

“Oh… Astrals… mmm - I…” You took in a deep breath. “And… and I want you to make me come so fucking hard I can't see straight. Please Iggy!”

He crashed your mouths together with a barely contained growl, his fingers slipping once again inside your pussy, only this time his thumb fell across your clit as well. You whimpered into his mouth as his tongue rolled possessively over yours, stealing the last of your inhibitions.

You felt so hot, and Ignis was rather proud of his handiwork as you coated his pistoning fingers. He groaned as you nipped at his lips, unable to keep pace with his demanding kiss. He threaded the fingers of his free hand into your hair, tightening in your locks, and traced a path with his tongue to the whorl of your ear.

His breath echoed hotly against you, raising gooseflesh on your arms that only seemed to intensify as he spoke. “Mmm, you’re soaked… I can only imagine what you’d feel like wrapped around my cock.”

You moaned, pitchy and desperate, as his sinful words sank into you, setting you ablaze. You trembled against him and it only seemed to encourage his hand and his mouth. His tongue lapped at your lips. “Don’t hold back, love, let me hear you.”

You gasped for breath as the ripples of pleasure turned into waves, growing in magnitude. “Ignis… oh Six! Don’t stop!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he husked against you, his teeth teasing just beyond your jaw, his voice rumbling against your ear. “Come for me _____”

You bit down on your bottom lip as you could feel the dam crack, the building pressure too much to take any longer. Your breathing spiked and you moaned as his hand tightened at your scalp, tilting your face close to his. His mouth hovered over yours, reveling in the uneven flow of your breath against his face. “That’s it baby,” he encouraged, “give it to me.”

You clutched onto him, eyes screwing shut as your mouth parted. The desire burning within you overflowed, spilling from your core and spreading through your limbs as you cried out his name. You were vaguely aware of your toes curling to the point of pain against the tile, but it was all you could do to stay upright as your orgasm bowled you over.

Ignis was absolutely taken as he watched you fall apart, your body bowing, going taut, before crumbling in tremors and moans that bordered on sobs. He slowed his hand, drawing out your climax and letting you ride the high as your impassioned cries dwindled to shuddering gasps.

Your face contorted into a pleasure grimace as you came down, feeling his fingers still moving within you. His voice husked against your heated skin. “Oh, darling, you sound absolutely divine coming for me.”

“Ignis -ah!”

He chuckled as he slowly withdrew from you. Lifting his hand, he separated his fingers, admiring the way they glistened. Incredibly pleased and aroused he turned his eyes to you, smirking as he touched the slick pad of his finger across your mouth. He dragged his finger across your bottom lip, humming as your tongue chased after it.

You loved watching the expression on his face whenever you did something unexpected that pleased him, that made his gaze burn hotter.  You smirked, but then watched him slide a finger in its entirety into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked it clean, moaning in pure delight as if you were the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. He certainly knew how to counter every move you made. And when he finished, he repeated it with the second.

Your pulse may have started to slow, but heat spiked inside you again as Ignis pulled his finger free. He licked his lips, cleaning every trace of you, and then swallowed before leaning in and taking your mouth with his.

You could taste yourself in his kiss, lost to the heat of his body as he pressed against you. You held him close, your hands raking down the muscled planes of his back as you regained some sense of control. Your fingers hooked in his pants and you pulled him closer, feeling the evidence of how turned on and ready for you he really was.

You fit your hand between your bodies, palming the bulge at the front of his pants. You rubbed him through his layers, enjoying it as he became the one whose breath hitched, whose fingers dug into your skin in hungry anticipation.

He broke the kiss, pressing his lips to your forehead as he moaned low, rolling his hips into your touch. You could be quite the devilish woman when you so wanted, and Ignis enjoyed every second of it. He loved that you could give just as good as you received. Your mouth brushed along his neck, lingering over his pulse point. He cupped the back of your head, breath shaking as you moved to undo his belt buckle, your tongue swiping across his Adam's apple. The metal clinked as you finally pulled it open, gaining access to the button that laid beneath.

As you slowly lowered the zipper, he tilted your head up to his and reclaimed your mouth, pouring every ounce of desire he felt into the kiss.

You let your hands tease along the loosened band of his pants until you felt him grip your thighs. You quickly broke the kiss, hands shooting down to circle his wrists and halting his movements. You weren't lying when you told him you'd been thinking about this all day. Breath elevated, Ignis looked at you with curious eyes.

You offered a soft smile and a vague explanation. “It's my turn.”

Removing his hands, he nodded and then tilted his head to watch as you eased both his pants and his boxer briefs from his hips. You leaned forward, placing a kiss to his chest. His scent invaded your nose as you slowly lowered yourself, trailing your lips over the dips of his muscle, your hands pushing his pants further down as you went. Your tongue flickered across his navel, and feeling him tense under your touch was empowering in its own way. You continued to pay tribute to his body, your mouth peppering kisses down his pelvis as your nails lightly scratched up the back of his thighs.

You dropped your head back to look up at him, a smile spreading on you face. Fire shimmered in the depths of his gaze, the desire to have you far more evident on his face than before you started. Yet he kept quiet, lips pressed together, eager to see what else you had up your sleeve - especially considering you were so close to where he craved attention.

You turned your face toward his tumescent length standing proudly between his legs, and kissed the side of it. You gently cupped your hand on the opposite side as you continued to kiss and suckle your way to the tip of him. As you reached the head, you turned your eyes up to him and held his gaze as you licked up the thick, pearly bead of precum.

“Mmm…” You made a show of closing your eyes and savoring the taste, much like he had teased you with earlier. “I've missed the way you feel in my mouth.” Your tongue swirled around him as you edged forward, teasing your senses as much as his, and then you closed your lips around him.

Ignis gasped as the heat of your mouth enveloped him, so warm and eager. He watched as more and more of his length disappeared past your lips, as your cheeks flushed with the effort. Every bob of your head made that electric hum deep in his gut grow and spread. It tingled through his limbs and made his fingers twitch, so he buried them in your hair to keep them occupied. His eyes closed under the pleasurable assault of your sinfully hot tongue sliding against him as you worked his cock.

Hearing his ragged breaths and feeling his fingers massage your scalp boosted your confidence. He was so hard, so heavy on your tongue, his flavor unique and intoxicating - and one you'd never get enough of. Sucking him off never failed to get you ridiculously turned on, but you knew what would really get him going, and you hummed around him as your hands lifted higher to grip his ass. A guttural sound left him as you urged his hips forward to meet your mouth

As he fell into the rhythm you set, you let your hands return down the backs of his thighs, curling around and traveling back up the inside of his legs. His inner thighs had always been sensitive, a fact that you used to your advantage whenever it presented itself. Your nails scraped against his skin, feather light, and then you reached up and cupped his sac, gently fondling him. His fingers tightened in your hair and you knew you almost had him. Almost. You just had to…

Your free hand curved around his leg, slowing the pace again as you relaxed your jaw and pushed yourself onto him. Your breath caught for a brief moment, but you pushed through the minor discomfort, purposefully grunting low as your nose brushed against dark blond coarse hair at the base of him.

“Aah… Astrals… ______!”

There it was. If you could have smiled, you would have. Instead you only moaned around him as you worked in shallow jerks, keeping most of his length within your mouth.

“So… wonderful… you're…mmm-” he panted fragmented praise, losing himself to your prowess.

If you wanted you could reduce him to a puddle before your feet, making him shout your name as he spilled down your throat, but that would be for another day. You ached for him, to have him buried deep inside you, making you feel heady and crazy - falling apart and yet complete - all at once.

It seemed he shared the same sentiment as he gently yet firmly tugged on your head, slowing your pace. “Careful there, kitten… don't make this end prematurely. I haven't even had the best of you yet.”

Your cheeks hollowed as you pulled back, twirling your tongue around the tip of him again, before releasing him with a soft, wet pop. You couldn't look away from his desirous stare as you wiped at your chin. “Get down here and have me then.”

His eagerness showed as he toed off each shoe and pulled his feet free from his slacks. You pushed them off to the side and he sank to his knees in front of you. You couldn't help but smile as he cupped your face and leaned in. Your lips met and moved together listlessly, enjoying every mesh and pass of tongue as his hands descended your body. His fingers pinched the zipper at the side of your skirt and lowered it without hesitation or fancy flourish. You felt the air move in around your thighs as your skirt pooled at your knees and then his fingers were hooking into the band of your panties. Breaking the kiss, he jerked them down, having waited for long enough these drawn out and exhausting days without you.

As you felt him prod at your legs for cooperation, you firmly pushed back on him, setting him on his butt. “Let me… take care of you,” you murmured before pulling back and meeting his gaze.

He opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but quickly shut it and then nodded. You broke eye contact as you maneuvered out of the last remaining articles of clothing, and then climbed into his lap. You sank your fingers into his hair, tilting his head back to look up at you. “You take care of so much for so many other people, including me.” Your thumbs grazed across his cheeks. “My plans were to do everything for you tonight. So… allow me this.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sighing at the pleasant feeling of your soothing fingers brushing down his neck and your very real and comforting weight in his lap. Gods, he’d missed you. The corner of his lips quirked into a grin. “The reins are yours, my love.”

In nothing but skin, your legs straddling his, you kissed him briefly as you took him in your hand. You teased the head of him along your entrance, coating him in your essence, and eating up the soft gasp that tumbled from his lips. Finally aligned, you lifted your head, leaning close but not quite closing the distance. Your fingers curled in his hair as you sank onto him at a leisurely pace, feeling every inch of him slide inside you, stretching and satisfying the persistent urge to have him fill you.

Ignis groaned, his grip tightening around your waist. There was no feeling quite like the initial joining of your bodies, of feeling you accommodate him, accepting everything he had to give. He hissed as you rocked your hips, circling them, letting him slide and strike against different areas before easing the rest of the way into his lap with a soft mewl.

Your head slumped down to his shoulder; joined together you felt impossibly full and your breath stuttered across his skin. “Damn… Ignis…” Your lips trailed along his neck as you ground yourself against him, adjusting to his thick length. He was almost too much to take, and yet also not enough. You desired everything he was, everything he possessed, and embodied, and offered up to you.

You claimed his mouth as you began to subtly lift your hips. His hand smoothed up your back to curl around the back of your neck, holding you to him as if he needed you to breathe, swallowing every soft moan you pressed into his lips. You felt absolutely exquisite, so hot and soft wrapped around him. He slipped his other hand to the small of your back, encouraging your movements.

Steadily, you increased the pace, your breasts glancing his chest with every roll. You could feel the glide of him against your inner walls, that sweet friction that left you gasping and your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“_____ you feel amazing…” he uttered with a sigh, his fingers pressing more firmly against you.

You absently nodded and moaned your agreement, lost to the feeling of your union. That instinctual voice inside you called for more, craved to take him harder and faster, to spiral out of control. But you wanted to make it last, to slowly line up to the edge and fall in. Your hands curled around the back of his neck as you leant back, changing the angle and sensation, but keeping the same pace.

“Ignis- so good- inside me-" Your praise fell broken between the rise and fall of your body. He gripped your hips, pulling you against him, urging you to move faster - he was just as eager as that primal beast inside you. Every rock against him took you higher, made that flame burn brighter, hotter. Kissing him, you leaned forward, pushing him down onto the flat of his back.

Ignis moaned as you sat upright; he felt like he was so deep inside you, and as you started to move atop him he had to grip your hips to resist the urge to buck up and meet you. Slowly, you worked your body against him, feeling your pussy squeeze and draw him in with every rock.  Ignis was in total awe, enamored by the pleasured expression set upon your face, the glow of your skin flushed with desire and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your whole body was on display to him in all of its glory - and damn, were you glorious. His hands ran along your thighs, feeling your muscles contract as you began to rise and fall in earnest.

His stare was so hot you could practically feel it burn your skin. You lifted your hips and slid back down his cock with a little more force, the stab of pleasure - white hot - made your breath catch in your throat. Your eyes turned up to focus on his face as you repeated the action, sliding along his length slow and hard, the smack of your bodies meeting lewd and tantalizing.

Ignis could feel you trembling with need around him, that you were holding back. But you felt so amazing, so hot and wet, your breasts bouncing enticingly with your movements that he resisted the instinct to take control. He moaned low and deep as his fingers dug into your skin. “That’s it, kitten.”

The husky quality of his voice nearly made you shiver, and your pace increased, your body starting to overpower your mind. His hands slid up to the firm roundness of your ass, but even without his encouragement you would’ve pressed down more feverishly against him. His head tilted back as you circled your hips, letting him reach deep inside you, hitting all the right spots and sending little jolts of pleasure through your body.

Your breath left you in quick pants and he lifted his head to watch you. You were beautiful, dripping with raw sexuality as you rode him, eyes closed and your head tossed back. His eyes drank in every inch of you, lingering on the place where your bodies came together. He breathed your name in awe, subtly rocking up to meet you, forcing himself even deeper.

The tight coiling feeling in your belly was becoming too much to take. Your thighs burned from the exertion, but it felt too good and you were too close to stop now. Reaching back, you found purchase above his knees as the pressure built inside you. It lifted you so high it was nearly agonizing. But you still weren’t quite there and you needed something more. Something desperately needed to give.

Ignis seemed to read you loud and clear. His right hand left your ass and smoothed across your body. His thumb fell over your clit as he pressed his hand to your lower abdomen. A shiver dripped down from your navel straight into your core, and your mouth fell open as his touch fell into your rhythm, rocking with you.

He clenched his jaw, but it did little to dampen his harsh pants. Bliss raced through his veins, sparked deep in his gut, wild and electric and threatening to arc out at any moment. And he refused to go without you.

Your heady moans turned into desperate cries as you slammed your hips down repeatedly. The added stimulation Ignis provided was exactly what your body had been craving. You could feel yourself winding up around him, tighter and tighter. All you could hear was your own blood rushing between your ears and Ignis’ pleading voice commanding that you-  “Come for me.”

For a moment, you forgot how to breathe - all sense of time and space - it all blanked out for a split second that felt far, far longer. Then you snapped, a harsh breath splitting your lips as you cried out Ignis’ name. The coil of pressure sprang forth and your walls clamped around him as you were blinded by waves of pleasure.

Ignis held his breath as you went taut above him, your passage constricting around him as your hips continued to move, seemingly of their own accord. Feminine muscles squeezed and fluttered around him, massaging his rock hard cock until he had no option but to cave in. His arms wrapped around you with a growl and he crushed you to his chest as he erupted, spilling his seed in hot, thick spurts deep inside you. He moaned and gasped through the intense blaze of pleasure, and he came back down from the high first to find you still shaking in his arms. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, and you whimpered as he rolled his hips up gently against yours - letting you linger in and slowly descend from the state of euphoria he’d taken you to.

He ran his hands up and down your back, soothing across your sweat-slicked skin as your walls occasionally twitched around him. Your shuddering breaths fell hot across his neck and shoulder as you slowly came back to yourself. You pressed your lips to his shoulder, trailing sated kisses and sighs along his skin.

“Oh, Six,” you gasped, throat dry, “... I… I've missed you.”

He smiled as he gathered your hair lifting dampened strands from your neck and placing it all behind your head so he could get an unobstructed view of your face as you lifted your head. “You and I both, love.”

You chuckled as you leaned down and captured his lips. Your tongues met and lazily danced together, desires momentarily appeased. A chill followed Ignis’ touch down your back, your skin cooling. His hands curled around the back of your thighs and a shared groan passed between your lips as his softening length slid free.

Your face dropped to rest on his chest and you nuzzled against him before settling in to listen to his heart. He stroked your skin and hair, officially worn out. There was not enough Ebony in the world to bring him back from the brink of the most pleasant form of exhaustion.

But then his nose twitched as he became more mindful of where they were. “___, darling, do you smell that?”

You hummed in question, but then realization struck and you bolted upright, eyes wide. “The cake!”

You clambered to shaky feet, wobbling and giggling as you quickly made it to the oven and turned it off. You grabbed a mit and opened the door to be greeted by smoke and your worst fear. So much for a fluffy orange creme cake. It was far beyond a golden brown and you pouted as you set it atop the cooling rack. Embarrassed, you looked to Ignis. “I’m so sorry.”

By your side, he continued to smile. “The important bits were salvaged.” He dipped his finger into the glaze frosting and dabbed it on your neck. He chuckled as he leaned in and slowly licked it off, deliberately letting his mouth crawl up your neck. A soft mewl escaped you as you leaned into his touch. Then he offered what remained on his finger to you. You hummed at the sweet citrus flavor, curling your tongue teasingly along his digit. You met his gaze as you pulled your lips from him.

He cupped your face, smiling as he dipped in. “See? Delicious.”

You could only sigh in agreement as he slanted his mouth over yours again and hoisted you up. You smiled against his lips as your legs wrapped around him and he began carrying you toward the bedroom - the hunger for dinner abated after your indulgence in dessert.

“I seem to find myself at the mercy of my sweet tooth,” he teased as the kicked the bedroom door closed behind you. “Let’s see if we can satisfy the craving.”

[bl-giftexchange]

A Haunted Holiday

To: @nerdsfordayz From: @nessiefromspace

Hi! I hope you like my fic! It was fun writing it! ^__^

Timothy had bought the house on the cheap. Not like a really good price that was a big steal impressing others. It was the kind of cheap where the seller was beyond desperate with a foreclosure. In fact, Tim had offered a lower price, his maximum he could spend and they'd taken it without hesitation. It was their quick response that had Tim curious. The large, colonial style house was the only available place in the small town where Tim had been able to find residence. Which had Tim thinking it would have been more costly, but the six bedroom, three and a half bath was his property faster than a pin dropping.

It hadn’t taken Tim a week to figure it out. The place was haunted, and not just with one ghost. No, so far, Tim had counted nine ghosts and a goo, sludge monster that always clogged the pipes. That was why he’d gotten such a desperate deal. His home had been haunted for over a hundred years and had reached a stagnation when the previous owner had mysteriously died. It had been startling at first and Tim would admit a bit concerning, now he knew what to look for.

He developed habits in the first months that kept him alive from the untrusting creatures. He knew to start a bath in two bathrooms, then see which got clogged with black goo and use the other bath. He’d made the habit of jiggling the stair railing to gauge how loose it was. Then, depending, he would use the other set of stairs to avoid mysteriously falling or continue if it was safe. He also found the only unhaunted room and had camped there, even if it was the most rundown. As he set his bags in his room, he informed the house that he valued their privacy and hoped they valued his. They had responded by opening and closing the bedroom door when he was sleeping or changing. Tim would take a deep breath and then smile and ask if they were doing these things because they were lonely or scared and wanted company. They would stop immediately and leave him alone for the rest of the time. Those moments of talking to them had inspired Tim to begin talking with them regularly. They were after all, real beings in his home and ignoring them would be rude.

As Tim learned their habits more and more, they got that much more irritated with him, forcing him to drop his things, or send food flying. His only response would be disappointment, telling them they should have better manners, they weren’t cavemen. It was tough, but Tim pressed on, refusing to give up. He hardly jumped at all when they tried to scare him, a feat he was proud of. And he’d grown resistant to the small sparks of electricity they were always giving him. A lot of days, he worked in the small coffee shop in town and he would keep his work in his car and park the car outside to keep his most important things safe. He’d discovered quickly, that they could not leave the house, which was a bit of solace to Tim.

It wasn’t until he was moving boxes to the attic three months into living here that he saw an entity for the first time. It was a female ghost who had popped out, trying to scare him. She wore a flapper dress and kitten heels. Her short, blonde hair razored to her neck with a gorgeous band of gems dangling around her head and down her forehead, matching the bracelet she wore over her gloves. Tim had jumped a little, startled, but he smiled at her and introduced himself.

She’d frowned. “You’re not scared? That’s new.”

Tim had shrugged. “Why should I be scared of my roommates?”

“Because we’re monsters,” she said plainly.

Stopping from his work, Tim looked her up and down and then shrugged. “Don’t look like a monster to me.” He smiled. “Are you always up here? It’s freezing! Do ghosts get cold? I’ve been wondering if I should get the heat to come up here, or if it gets warm enough with the residual heat from the house?”

The woman looked startled. “You… You’ve… been thinking about me? I’m a ghost. Ya know, haunt you and make you fall down the stairs to your death?”

Tim looked at the doorway to the stairs. “It that what happened to the last owner?”

“He was a pig.”

“Huh,” Tim said. He looked at her again. “Anyway? Are you warm enough up here?” Tim felt the prickling on the back of his neck of a second ghost sneaking up behind him, but he smiled at her anyway.

“Don’t,” she said, her eyes looking next to him. The goosebumps resided. She looked at Tim fully then. “I can get cold, but the residual heat is enough.”

Tim thought for a moment and then smiled at her. “I think I’ll get some heat pipes put in. Good enough may be good enough, but not for me. My name’s Tim, by the way, or Timothy, but I usually go by Tim.”

The woman eyed him wearily. “Nice to meet you.”

He did not learn her name that day, but when he announced when the construction was going to begin, he asked them to be polite and not chase them out, or else the attic wouldn’t be warm in the fast approaching winter. To his great delight, and the surprise of the only company brave enough to work on his house, the heating system was easily and quickly installed. It would also double as the cooling system in the summertime. Tim frowned as the men quickly left without walking him through their work. He went up to the attic and inspected it.

“What?” the woman asked.

“I don’t know… It just… Their work was really fast, like really, really fast…” he looked at her hopefully. “Do you think you or another one of our roommates could take a look at it? I want to make sure the job was done correctly.”

The woman looked at Tim for a long time. “I cannot leave this attic, but I can ask someone to help… I… I must admit I didn’t believe you at first, and for that, I apologize.”

Timothy smiled. “I get it, I’m a stranger.”

“Yes…” She smiled then. “I’m Jane, or Janey. Thank you.”

“Hello, Janey! And you’re welcome! I just hope that they did their jobs correctly.”

They hadn’t. Timothy had words with that company, calling them lazy and cowards, demanding to get different workers who were competent and not about to put his life in danger. “What if a fire started because of their faulty work?” He listened to more apologetic words. “Look, just come and fix it, but don’t expect to get paid more than half of your normal price. Your workers were undisturbed the whole time they worked, so I don’t understand what their problem was, except that they must have been trying to do me harm.” That had really lit a fire under the owner and it had been fixed and set up properly by himself.

That had somehow earned the trust of the whole house and they allowed Tim to them fully and all the time now. They stopped messing with him and Tim could eat properly in his home now, or touch a light switch without getting shocked. He learned their names and now they walked around freely and talked with him.

So, when Hubert was crying one day, Tim immediately went to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t mind me, I’m just whining and pitying myself,” he sighed glumily.

Tim smiled and put his laundry down. “I do really want to know, Hubert.”

“It’s just… I’ve always dreamed of being one of those mischievous ghosts, but you’ve never noticed me.”

“I- what?” Tim asked, his eyes large, he had no idea what Hubert was talking about.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, stalking through the wall in the hallway.

Another ghost, Olivia stood next to Tim, an amused smirk on her face. “He rearranges your eggs.”

Tim started. “What? But how am I supposed to notice that?”

She shrugged. “He also ruffles your pillows, makes your towels crooked, moves your clothes around in your drawer, and moves the furniture an inch to the side.”

“Huh, I thought that was just because I hadn’t gotten the pads for wood floors… Hmm…”

After that, Tim took precautions, numbering his eggs and paying close attention to how his things were placed, so as he went through his day, he noticed what Hubert shifted and could feign annoyance and make a show of putting couches back. Hubert smiled a lot more, though Tim caught the slight blush in his cheeks when he inconvenienced Tim.

The last ghost wasn’t discovered until he explored the guest house and the door shot immediately behind him. Tim stopped and smiled. “Oh! Hello! My name is Timothy, or Tim to my friends and roommates. I’m the new owner of the house, but just because I own the place doesn’t mean this isn’t your home either! In fact, if I had known, I would have introduced myself sooner, but the main house ghost never said anything. So, there’s eleven of you in total…” He giggled. “Oh! Here I am just rambling! Anyway, if there’s anything I could do for you, just let me know. I can clean up in here and install heating for the winter, I installed the heat in the attic for-”

A harsh chill ran through him, shoving him against the door. The ghost appeared before him, pinning him with her arm against his neck. Her dark hair was slicked back, her features masculine and deadly.

She leaned in close to him. “You have met Janey?” she demanded.

Tim nodded. His throat was icey and he could feel the pressure that restricted his airflow, but there was nothing touching him. This was the first time Tim had ever experienced something like this.

“And she introduced herself, which means she trusts you.” With that, the woman stepped back. Tim got a full look at her now, in a pinstripe suit and polished men’s shoes. “I don’t know how you gained her trust, but you need to know something. The rules of this place.”

“Oh… Okay-”

“Stop talking. The first thing to know is that a sorcerer once owned this house in eighteen sixteen. He collected every soul in this house for his evil deeds. The second thing to know is he got an apprentice in the nineteen-twenties named Jane and he fell in lust with her, but when she refused his advances, he grew insanely mad and jealous. He tricked her and her lover to come here where he killed them and set a curse over them. If anyone says her lover’s name in the main house, it will unleash a horrible monster the sorcerer created himself. It will devour all the ghosts and humans who enter the house and then consume everything in this world. Never ever say the name, Athena, in that main house. Ever.”

Tim thought for a long moment, processing everything. “I take it you’re Athena, then? Why can we say the name here?”

Athena grunted. “You’re smart. I was told, when the bastard trapped me in here, that Janey thought I was gone, my spirit moved on, so precautions weren’t necessary. And he just really wanted me to suffer.”

“That’s horrible! That’s… That’s…” Timothy could not think of the words. “Wait, what stops Janey from saying your name?”

Athena clenched her teeth. “I’m… I’m also told that…” Athena looked out the window facing the house, her eyes training to the attic. “She doesn’t remember me. She would remember if someone said my name, but…”

A sniffle escaped Timothy. Athena whizzed around to look at him, Tim wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry, that’s just… So, incredibly sad! What a horribly cruel man!”

Eyeing him wearily, she glanced back at the house. “Yes, he was.”

“Did he die here?”

Athena shrugged. “All I know is I felt the day he died and while it gave me tremendous joy, it did not break our curse. If I could leave this place, seek out this demon and kill it, I would, but ghosts cannot go outside. We are trapped in the homes we died in.”

Tim had vowed that night to find a way to help them. He didn’t know how, but he would. He returned to the house, miming to the others that he knew. They were relieved, but worried. He promised never to say the name until he knew how to rid the evil. That seemed to agitate them, but as the months passed and nothing happened, they calmed.

Tim had also made it a priority to always keep the shades pulled open in the attic. That way Athena could catch glimpses. He didn’t know how helpful it was, but visits let him know it had made her more open and helpful to him.

.::::.

He sighed as he pushed his cart through the department store, searching for wrapping paper. Christmas was two days away and he was running out of time to get all his roommate’s presents ready. Once he’d found the perfect wrapping paper, he found each of them a card.

As he read one for Athena, hands wrapped around his eyes and a large, warm man leaned into him. “Guess who?” he whispered.

Smirking, Tim gasped. “Shh! We can’t let anyone know I’m having an affair!”

Deep laughter rolled over him. Tim turned as the hands left his eyes and he smiled at Wilhelm, a man he’d started dating within the last month. They weren’t officially a couple yet, and that was okay with Tim. He wasn’t sure how to explain Tim’s situation with his home, not to mention why Rhys would never want to have sex in his home. The idea of a stray ghost or two that might interrupt them during sex, was too much for Tim.

He smirked and pulled Tim into a kiss. “I see you’re buying cards for your family to go with their presents you sent to my house instead of yours, where they won’t be staying.”

Tim smiled sheepishly. “I’m just a little paranoid.”

“Mmm… Wanna get something to eat?”

“I should really wrap those presents…”

“Good, we’ll eat at my place. I’ll get the ingredients while you…” he waved his hand at the cards.

Timothy smiled wide as Wilhelm left. Sure the man was twice his age, Tim was not ashamed. Tim was lucky to have someone as cool and badass and buff as well as caring and adventurous in his life. Timothy felt himself heat at those adventurous memories. Wil was good at pulling Timothy out of his comfort zone and it was exciting. Often though, Tim reminded himself they hadn’t actually become a couple yet. He could not get his hopes up or start planning a future. He had promised himself to enjoy the moment with Wilhelm and let it take him where it may. Except to Tim’s house.

He’d gotten the last card when Wil came back with food and beer, all complimenting each other. Wil loved to cook and always made something wonderful. Tim smiled and walked with him to the cashier. Tim loaded his car up with both their things. Wil only had his motorcycle, which would not hold his groceries. Tim was not sure how he had planned on getting his things home if Tim hadn’t been there, but Wil was always resourceful. They met at his place, a rented, single-wide, manufactured home. They parked and unloaded their things.

“Hey, Tim, wanna take a ride again?” Wil’s wolfish smile had Tim blushing. They had taken a ride into the woods up to a lookout point where Wil had bent Tim over his bike and the memory heated Tim. Wil pulled Tim close, holding him and kissing him. “Hmm? Under the stars, all alone with just the bike?” His hand slipped under Tim’s jeans to squeezed his bare ass.

Tim flushed, biting his lip as Wil’s hand reached further and further down, pressing into Tim and making him gasp. He leaned into Wil, hands fisting in his shirt, and muffling any sound he made. Wil teased him, pressing, but never further. He could feel Wil’s smirk as the man kissed Tim’s neck and rubbed a finger over him.

“W-Wil…” Tim breathed, they were in public, afterall.

“Yeah.” Wil lead Tim inside, not removing his hand from Tim’s ass.

As Wilhelm made dinner, Tim wrapped his presents happily. He’d turned on Christmas music and while, Wilhelm hadn’t reacted to it, Tim had caught him dancing. He swayed his hips, quietly singing. It filled Tim’s heart and he watched for a while, smiling wide. When the presents were all wrapped, he moved on to the cards, to write an individual message into each. He worked hard to get them perfect and they were going to stay perfect until they were opened.

Wilhelm visited him while he waited for the next step in the meal. He kissed Tim’s neck, looking over his things. “So, are you going to send these to your family?”

Tim thought for a moment. “Maybe.”

That gained a growl from Wil. “Still so mysterious.” He pulled Tim’s chin, tilting his head back. “How can you be so adorable and sexy and mysterious and cute at the same time?” He kissed Tim.

He giggled. “I doubt I’m really all that mysterious or sexy. I’m just me.”

The man stared at Tim for a long time. “I like just you,” he finally said.

A warm smile crept over Tim’s face. “Yeah? Awkward dork and all?”

“Mhmm, and all these wonderful freckles.” Wil pulled Tim’s shirt up as he said this. He smoothed over Tim’s fire red hair and biting Tim’s neck. He winced when Wil bit just a little too hard. A timer went off and Wil sighed, leaving Tim to tend to their food.

Tim, rosey all over now, tried to focus back on his letter to Athena. Through an aroused fog, he managed to write something sincere and stuck it in an envelope. He was all finished. He cleaned up and set the table and the two ate.

“So, how far along’s the house renovations?”

Tim smiled. “It’s good! The contractor's stopped being wusses and they’re almost done! Just a couple more touch ups and it’s a normal house.”

“Good. At least you let them into your house.”

Timothy flushed at his pointed look. “Look… It’s just… I’m embarrassed, it’s a mess…”

“So, it’s not that it’s haunted anymore?” Wil looked at him knowingly. It made Tim even more sheepish. Wil smirked and leaned forward. “I know how you can make it up to me,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

Tim rolled his eyes and crawled under the table.

Wilhelm leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “I meant do the dishes, but this is good too.”

Tim swore, flustered. He wanted to stay under the table for the rest of time. Wil stuck his hand under and motioned for Tim to go to him. Face hot as the sun, Tim complied, snaking up between Wil’s legs and avoiding his gaze. He sat on his knees, his hands resting on Wil’s muscular thighs.

Wil tipped his chin up and kissed his lips. “You’re too damn cute.”

Sighing heavily, Tim let his head fall against Wil’s stomach. His head bounced when Wil began to laugh. “Why do I have to be so embarrassing?” he groaned.

“Not embarrassing, cute. Hmmm, this is a great view.” Wil pulled Tim’s jeans up, peaking in.

Timothy giggled.

.::::.

When Tim had finished the dishes, his cheeks freshly flushed in an afterglow, he dried his hands and set about packing his things into his car. He found to his surprise that Wilhelm had already done it.

Timothy wrapped his arms around Wil and kissed him. “You’re so good to me.”

“Eh, I could do better.”

He kissed Wil. “You are better already.”

The man smiled and then went to Tim’s passenger side and climbed in. Tim froze. He went over to the driver’s door and opened it, leaning down to look at him. “Uh… What are you doing?” He tightly spread his lips into what he hoped was a casual smile.

When Wil’s eyes landed on them, he guessed not. “I’m going with you, you’re gonna need help bringing in all these presents and stuff.”

“Uh…”

Wil smiled at him and patted the driver’s seat. “C’mon, it’s cold out here.”

Tim mechanically slid in and started the car. He knew the moment he parked in his garage, Wilhelm would want to go inside. He was nervous, he didn’t want Wil to get hurt and he couldn’t have Wil trying something and being watched.

But there they were, parked in Tim’s garage, the door closing and the car turned off. “We’re… Here…” Tim said nervously.

“Yep!” Wil got out and Tim sighed heavily, opening the trunk door. As he got out, Wil scooped up the large presents and other groceries, including a large duffel bag.

Tim blinked as he loaded the last bit in his arms. “You brought an overnight bag?”

Wil shrugged. “Thought I should be prepared.” He winked.

Tim flushed and glared at Wil’s back as he lead the way into Tim’s house. “You sure you haven’t been here before?” Tim asked bitterly.

As they entered the house in the entryway, the door slammed hard. Tim jumped, bumping into Wilhelm and making him drop all the items in his arms. Tim had kept a firm hold on his, but Wil had packed everything in, making it easy to spill over.

Out of nowhere, Norman, the self appointed head of the house appeared and dashed at them. “GET. OUT!” He knocked the boxes out of Tim’s arms.

“HEY!” Tim yelled. “STOP KNOCKING OVER MY PRESENTS!”

Norman’s ghostly voice echoed around them, thick and cold and deadly. “Get. Him. Out.”

Tim put his hand on his hips, glaring at the hovering ghost. “Well, yeah, I was trying, but you’re slamming doors that are preventing him from leaving! Not only is that confusing, but also now he knows about you and us!”

Norman, quite corporeal now, turned pale.

“Yeah!” Tim scolded. “And not to mention you tipped over my presents for you and the others!” Tim’s face was red and he didn’t care if Wil overheard anymore. “I carefully looked, and bought them! And then I had to find for the perfect wrapping paper, and wrap them and decorate them and find each of you the perfect cards, and then you just knock them over!” He wiped the angry tears from his eyes. “I had them shipped to a different house so they’d be a surprise for you! This took me since October, Norman! And you just…” Tim sighed and wiped his eyes again. He bent down and picked up the presents, all anger or passion sucked out of him.

Norman looked ashamed, but he stared at Wilhelm wearily. Wilhelm stared at Tim, dumbfounded. He picked everything up and followed Tim into the dining room. “You can see them?”

Tim shrugged. He set the bent and busted presents on the table and sniffled. Wilhelm set the others next to them. Tim looked them over, distraught.

“Tim, we need to talk…”

“Mmm,” he said, surveying the damage. He frowned and looked at Wil. “What do you mean, ‘can I see them?’” He pointed at Norman. “You can see Norm?”

“Norm? The ghost?” Wil looked from the ghost back to Tim, his face stoic. “Yeah, I can see all matter of supernatural things.”

“Ah.” But Tim was once again looking over the presents. Boxes had been smashed, wrapping torn and ribbon tangled and wrinkled. Thankfully, nothing looked broken, but now he’d have to start all over and he couldn’t trust them to take care not to look or knock them over.

Suddenly, Wilhelm was guiding him away from the presents. “Timothy,” he said gently, anchoring each hand on Tim’s shoulders. “I’m sorry about your presents. I’ll help you rewrap them.”

Tim nodded.

“I can see ghosts. They didn’t show themselves to me.”

Tim frowned. “You can?”

“Yes,” Wilhelm sighed. He straightened and looked awkward for the first time since Tim had known him. “Look… I’ve been here before… In this house. When it was foreclosed and I’ve met all these ghosts before. I was actually trying to-”

“Get rid of us!” Norman burst out.

Timothy glared at him. He ducked his head and backed up a little.

“Yeah… It’s… It’s my job,” Wilhelm said.

“What?” Tim looked at Wilhelm, taking a step back. “You’re job… But what about-”

“I do own the shop, but that just pays the bills. My real job is to hunt supernatural beings and destroy them or send them off to the other side where they belong. That’s what I was trying to do here, not destroy them, but help them move on, but no matter which ghost I picked, none of them could go. So, I left to research it…”

Timothy frowned. “I know why you can’t.”

“What? How?” Wilhelm looked impressed.

Grunting, Tim crossed his arms. “I asked them. Jeez, it’s not like it was hard.”

Wilhelm looked at Tim like he was insane. “You… Wait, you asked them? But they’ve killed a man! They haunt and attack everyone in this house. Are you saying they never attacked you?”

“We tried,” Norman said. He wandered over to the presents.

“Don’t touch them,” Tim warned.

His fingers curled away. “We haunted him and kept him from sleep and rotted his food and flooded the place… We even loosened the railing, but all that did was tell him there were multiple ghosts and he just started talking to all of us…” He wandered over to them. “He wasn’t afraid of us and he was careful to learn our tricks and he… He learned about us and tried to accommodate us, like this was our home… Like we were deserving…” Norman straightened, pulling his hands behind his back. “Tim, I apologize for my ghastly behavior and I will make sure no one sees their gifts. I will make it up to you.”

Timothy smiled softly. “Thank you, Norman.”

“You weren’t afraid of them?” Wilhelm asked.

“They’re just ghosts, and one goo… sludge… thing,” Tim said, frowning. “They’re not monsters.”

Wilhelm stared at Tim for a long time. He was avoiding Wil’s gaze.

“Now, since you’re an expert at these things, we could use your help. Do you know what the beast is that’s keeping everyone here?” Tim’s voice was all business, cold and removed.

“Tim…” Wilhelm reached for him.

Tim stepped back, dodging Wil’s reached. “Don’t!” He took a deep, calming breath, his cheeks redding and eyes misting. “You lied to me, just… Don’t.” Tim wiped his tears and took a deep breath, looking Wil in the eyes. “Just help me with my family.”

Norman looked startled.

Wilhelm sighed. “Okay.”

“Good. Do you know about the beast here?”

Nodding, Wilhelm went to his bag, which was full of instruments Tim could only assume was for his true job and not an overnight bag. More lies. Wil pulled out a large roll of blueprints and a notebook. “From what I’ve read about situations like this, it’s a curse. And the only way to break it is to bring the two cursed objects together. They have to touch.”

“That’s impossible! There’s no way to get it into the main house.”

Wilhelm smirked. “So, there’s an extra ghost in-”

“Stop!” Tim hissed. “There’s only one rule in this house. We don’t talk about that, otherwise the beast will be released.”

“That’s a good rule.”

Tim nodded. “And what we need is in the guest house, across the yard. There’s no way.”

That gained a smirk from Wil. “There is a way. This house was built with an underground tunnel to there.”

Tim’s eyes widened and he stood next to Wil, looking over the blueprints. He followed the tunnel. “In theory… This could work,” he smiled at Wil.

Wil looked at him longingly, his eyes drifting to those lips.

Immediately, Tim pulled away and looked in Wil’s bag. “You think you have everything to do this with?”

“You want to do it now?”

Tim eyed him.

The older man growled. “I’m not trying to be antagonistic, Tim. I’m just making sure I understand that you plan to run in, unprepared, guns blazing.”

“If we can’t do it now, we might as well just give up. I promised to break this curse and I’m going to.”

Wilhelm sighed and then after a moment, smirked. “Well, then, what are we waiting for?”

Tim nodded and they looked through his bag for anything Timothy might need on hand and then Wil hefted the bag over his shoulder. They began to leave the kitchen when Tim noticed Norman standing by the table, unmoving.

“Wow, you really meant you’d guard them.”

“I will not be moved!” He saluted Tim.

Timothy smiled warmly. “Thank you, Norman.”

Leaving the main floor, Tim lead the way to the basement. The basement had items from the inhabitants over the years that had never been thrown away. Tim had glanced through everything, noting the oldest things were some furniture he had plans to bring back to life and an old, haunted looking trunk. The large, ornate lock was enough of a warning for him to never, ever touch the worn trunk. He went to where the map showed it, but all they found was a brick wall. Tim sighed. “Great.”

Wilhelm left and returned with a large sledge hammer. He struck the brick hard. Tim took a step back and found something to sit on. He waited, trying hard not to watch. He tried to ignore those muscles moving elegantly under those clothes, expanding and contacting. Tim had always loved Wil’s strength, but now, when he looked at Wil, all he felt was betrayed.

Though, Tim supposed, with the time to think about it, that Wil had been protecting himself. He hadn’t known Tim at all or that Tim could see the ghosts or that they were Tim’s friends. And they hadn’t been dating long. Weren’t even officially a couple, but how much of what Wil had ever said was truth or not?

An hour later, Wil, skin glistening from sweat had made a large enough hole to move through. Tim picked up the heavy bag and went through.

Wil followed, clicking on a flashlight. “I can take that, Tim.”

“You need to rest.” Tim continued ahead.

“I’m okay.”

“I over reacted,” Tim said. He didn’t look at Wil as they walked. “I felt betrayed, but it wasn’t like we were serious or we’d known each other that long. You’re job requires secrecy and you didn’t know me that well… Don’t know me that well. You probably didn’t know I had any connection to the ghosts.”

“I didn’t,” Wil stepped in front of Tim, making him stop. “I didn’t know you, and yeah, when we first started talking, I was just trying to feel out who you were, but then you were cute and sweet and I…” he ran his hands through his hair. “I started to really like you and then I started to worry if they were going to hurt you.”

He frowned, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “That’s why you bullied your way in tonight?”

Wilhelm nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you-”

“You did though.” And this time, Tim looked at Wil. “The moment you realized I was safe to tell, you told me.” Tim stretched upward and kissed Wilhelm. “I over reacted, I’m sorry.”

Pulling Tim close, Wil kissed him fully. “You are too sweet.”

Nails slightly digging into Wil’s shoulders, Tim bit his lip. “I’m really only apologizing because watching you bust down that wall was stupidly hot.”

The large man chuckled. “I will remember that.” Wil let go of Tim and they continued on their way.

“So,” Tim said, sidling up to Wil’s side. “You hunt these creatures? How’d you get into that business?”

Lazily, Wil pulled on Tim’s hip, bringing him close. “I can see them without any spells or them showing themselves to me. Some order found me and trained me and then tried to use me for their own shit and I killed them.”

Tim would have stopped walking if Wil hadn’t been pulling on him. “W-woah… I’m… I’m sorry… That’s horrible.”

Wilhelm shrugged. “It was over thirty years ago.”

“That’s still a horrible thing to do.”

Again, Wil shrugged. When they reached the end of the tunnel, they found a floor hatch. Wil handed the light to Tim and pushed up on it. It was a solid door with a solid padlock dangling in front of them.

“So, now that we’re not in the main house,” Wil said, grabbing his bag and looking through it. “What exactly has happened in this place?”

“A sorcerer got butt hurt that a woman didn’t find him attractive and cursed her and her lover, Athena. If he can’t have Janey, no one can.”

“Ah.” He took hold of a crowbar and shoved it into the padlock. It broke easily, the years having worn it down. Wilhelm lifted it, forcing through the large rug that restrained them. Wilhelm worked on pulling the rug to the side while Tim called out.

“It’s just me, Athena, well, and a friend, but he’s here to help!” As Wil threw the rug off, Tim poked his head out and smiled. He couldn’t see her, but he continued to talk. “He’s a…” he looked at Wil.

“Hunter.”

“Hunter… But he’s not here to harm you. We’re gonna break the curse!”

Now Athena appeared looking skeptical and weary of Wilhelm. Her arms were crossed. “That’s impossible, I can’t-”

“Leave the house, yeah, but!” Tim pointed at the tunnel. “This tunnel is part of the house! It was here before you died, so you can use it!”

“And what will you do once I enter the house?”

Tim looked at Wil for a moment, seeing if he had any ideas. When he offered none, Tim shrugged. “Run?”

Athena’s brow crooked upward. “Run?”

“Yeah, Wil and I will distract the beast and you high-tail it to the attic. There’s a heating system you can use to get up there if you can’t go through the door.”

She frowned. “Tim, that’s… crazy. You don’t have a plan.”

“Do you wanna see her or not?”

“Of course I do!” Athena snapped. “I’ve been stuck here for eighty-eight years, longing for her, but what if we fail?”

“Not an option!” Timothy said, enthusiasm bursting like a fountain.

“That’s no answer.”

“Okay,” Tim sighed. “So, we just made this half-cocked plan, but even if we’ve prepared for years and years, it’s still risky. We could have a fool-proof plan and then it all go to shit for some reason or another. We’re as ready as we’re ever going to be. He’s counting on your fear, Athena.”

That seemed to light a fire under her, her eyes dark and deadly. “I am not afraid of him. We will defeat him.” She jumped down the tunnel and stood there waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, she smiled wide. “Let us go!”

Tim mirrored her smile and he and Wil followed. They made their way back, their conversation slacking the closer they got. Tension welled up as they got within feet of the exit and saw multiple ghosts crowding around, staring at them. All talking at once.

“Norman told us what you were doing when we tried to look at the presents.”

“You got one for all of us, why?”

“Who cares about that now? What about his plan?”

“This is crazy!”

“Absolutely insane!”

“How can we help?”

Tim smiled. “She needs to get to the target no matter what.”

“Go with her,” Wilhelm said. “If it gets passed me, you’ll need to stop it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Tim nodded. “Alright, you ready?” he asked Athena stepping through the hole. The other ghosts disappeared into the house, leaving the three of them alone.

Rolling her shoulders back, Athena stepped through the wall and instantly convulsed onto the ground, writhing in pain. She screamed, the sound piercing through Tim’s ears. From the back, the large chest began to shake.

“I knew it!” he whispered, kneeling next to Athena to try and help her. “Athena… Can you become corporeal? I can drag you out of here.”

“It- It hurts!” she gasped.

Tim looked at Wil, not knowing what to do. Wilhelm immediately went into action, grabbing a large container of salt. He spread it around Tim and Athena, circling them. He began to draw lines, making a safe pathway to the stairs.

The chest shook violently, before its lid burst open and a large shadow spread all through the basement, blocking the lights. A dark, bloody night sky shone in that darkness. Tim stood, preparing for a fight, whatever it was.

“You really think you can reach her?” the harsh voice asked.

“It’s him,” Athena gasped. “He’s the monster!” She let out a strangled laugh. “Of course, he’s the monster!”

Tim understood. This was the sorcerer that had caused so much damage and pain. He’d locked himself away in the chest, waiting to be the one to finally get rid of Athena. Tim glared.

The dark laughter brought goosebumps to Tim’s skin. “You think you’re so brave, human? You think you understand my power?”

“You coward!” Athena yelled. “You’ve been hiding here the whole time!”

The shadow laughed. “You have not tried to win your love back for eighty-eight years! Who is the true coward? Hmm?”

Gritting her teeth, she tried to sit up, but struggled. Timothy, anger rising, could not stop the words bubbling out of him. “You! You’re the coward! Instead of moving on like a man when you were rejected! You cried and whined and forced them into your sick and twisted curse! Athena’s lived with this curse, waiting for the right time to act and she did the moment she found one!”

“You,” it said, turning into the form of a man, smoky tendrils whisping together to form the body. He walked over to Tim. “You, who long so much for acceptance, have sunk to ghosts and a sewer monster for company! You are too pathetic for humans-”

Tim snickered, cutting the sorcerer off.

The monster stared. “What?”

“You’re just wrong, that’s all.” Tim laughed, shaking his head. “I have plenty of friends, including those in this house. They were not given the choice to be what they are. You forced them and then you made yourself into the monster! You were so afraid that Janey might be happy, you guarded Athena. Instead of moving on you trapped yourself here like everyone else.” He rested his hand on his hips, cocking them to the side. “I bet that’s why you became a sorcerer, huh?”

Growing large, the monster loomed over Tim, screaming. “You know nothing of me!”

“Except that I’m right!” Tim smirked, pointing at the sorcerer. “Ha, I get it now! You were running away! You became a sorcerer to what? Prove yourself to a love who then rejected you again once you showed them your powers?” The shadow loomed, but not as exaggerated. Tim poked further. “No, not a love? Then, a parent?”

“Shut up!” it screamed, pushing against the barrier the salt created.

“Ah!” Tim tapped his finger to his chin. “Given all the evidence of your hatred to women, I’d have to say it was-”

Again, the monster rammed the barrier. It budged some, but not nearly enough. He screamed at Tim. “I did not become all powerful to be talked down to by some human!”

“Your mother?” The sorcerer raged. Tim ducked as he was pushed, the force of the monster’s anger finally breaching the barrier and knocking him through the air. Tim hit the brick wall, falling over the pile Wil had created from earlier.

“Tim!” Wilhelm yelled, running over. He stood in front of him, between him and the sorcerer. “You did good, now go!”

Nodding, Tim pulled himself from the pile, his body refusing to work with him. He ignored the furious screams from the beast and kept walking, hugging himself. He ran to the stairs, not daring to look back. If he looked back, he’d want to stop and help Wilhelm. So, he limped up the stairs, wondering if there’d always been so many. His body panged harshly, but he fought through it.

When he reached the top, he toppled onto the floor, pulling himself up the rest of the way. Athena, who was waiting, crouched down. “Tim, you’re hurt!”

Tim took a quick moment to wave her comment away before forcing himself to stand. “I’m fine, let’s… Get going…”

“You’re hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, staring at her. She began to turn solid, her form grabbing and helping Timothy up. He pointed in the direction of the stairs. They hobbled together, hurrying as fast as Tim could.

As they reached the stairs, a large, taloned hand shot through the floor. “No, you don’t!” it yelled.

“C’mon! The other stairs!” Timothy ordered loudly, pulling Athena away. He lead her through the hall, clipping a table that stuck out just enough in the thigh. “DAMMIT HUBERT!” Tim snarled, pulling Athena further down the hall. When they were halfway, he pulled Athena to a stop and backtracked silently, motioning for her to not speak. They reached the main stairs again. Tim, now limping with both legs, hurried up, hearing the beast scream in frustration.

Tumbling past the landing and into the hall, they met no resistance. Not until they got to the attic, where they skidded to a halt. A man lay on the floor in front of the door to the attic. His body was crumpled, bloody and tattered. They could just make out the carpet through him. Slowly, he lifted himself up to his, glaring at the two of them. His face was ripped apart, light shining through gruesome holes. “H-how… How have you gotten so far so… quickly!? I’m a class A sorcerer! I will not be beat by you!” he snarled.

“You were great once.” Athena said. “But all those years have withered you away, making you weak and even more arrogant!”

“I am the best!” He yelled, rushed at them.

They braced for impact, but the sorcerer was thrown back. Voices rang around them. All the other ghosts were charging him, tackling and kicking and punching. Olivia screamed to Tim. “Go! We got him!”

Tim pulled Athena towards the door.

“NO!” the sorcerer threw himself at them. Tim pulled out a handful of salt from his pocket and threw it at the beast. He sizzled and screamed, reeling backwards, hands covering his face in pain. The two ran up the stairs, throwing themselves against the door and into the attic. Quickly Tim slammed it shut.

Janey turned from the window to look at them. “Tim, what on Earth!?”

Athena, chest heaving, stared, taking in Janey’s form. From the side vent, Tim saw a brown sludge with a deep green glow pool across the floor. He stepped out of its way as it nestled in front of the door.

The two women stared at each other, unmoving.

Timothy could hear the fight through the door and cleared his throat. “Uhm… We kinda need to hurry…”

“For what? What’s going on?” Janey asked.

That made Athena frown. “Janey, you don’t know what’s going on? Don’t you know who I am?”

“Uhm,” she looked between her and Tim. “A… friend of Tim’s?”

Athena stumbled backward. “N-no… That’s not…” She looked at Tim.

The door was thrown open, the sorcerer lunging forward and grasping Athena’s Ankle. His face was barely recognizable and oozed a dark liquid. Tim took hold of her and pulled her away, but the beast had a head start and Athena was dragged back, closer to the monster.

The sludge pooled around the sorcerer and the monster grimaced in pain and disgust. Tim tugged, pulling Athena away from his reach. He yelled. “I will not lose!”

“Yes you will!” Janey said, stepping forward and glaring at him. “After all these years, you are going to lose! You made me forget Athena, now, you’re going to die remembering us!”

The sorcerer struggled, pulling on the doorframe to escape the goo, but it held him down. He blasted it, disintegrating half of it, but more just oozed around him.

Janey went to Athena, smiling wide. “Heya, love!”

Athena shook her head. “But… But you said you didn’t know who I was?” The sorcerer shot more flame at the goo, only to get caught in it again. The goo was a large, but it was losing mass quickly.

Giggling, Janey blushed. “I was lying… I was… getting you back for wearing that stupid suit.”

“What?” Tim demanded. “Janey! Now isn’t the time! You two have to touch in order-”

“I know, but I needed to make a point. We don’t need to hide anymore and you’re not my Athena when you’re pretending to be someone else.”

Athena gaped. “You’re still on about that?” Janey eyed her, cocking a hip and crossing her arms. Rolling her eyes, Athena sighed. Her outfit began to change into a casual pair of men’s pants. She wore a woman’s blouse that fit her loosely, while her shoes remained the same. Her hair was no longer slicked back and fell loose around her face. “There.”

“There she is!” Janey smiled wide, her eyes twinkling.

The sorcerer burned more goo up, freeing himself some. He began to pull himself out, snarling at them.

Janey closed the space between her and Athena, wrapping her arms around her neck and kissing her. Athena’s hands rested on Janey’s waist, pulling her close.

The sorcerer screamed, convulsing and clawing at his face. Light began to crack through him, pulling him apart until he burst, shattering into small flakes that ignited the goo, dissolving it in the heat.

“No!” Tim yelled, lurching forward.

“Let it melt. We can’t let him reside in the sludge.”

Tim glared at Athena and hugged himself, letting the creature burn. He looked away as the last bits evaporated. He wiped a tear from his blurred eyes and saw a bit of sludge stuck to the vent. He scooped it up with his finger, smiling. “There’s still some here, do you think?”

Janey nodded. “That should be fine.”

Smiling, Tim found a small, empty container and plopped it in. It would be okay for the moment until Tim got it some water. He excused himself to check on the others. He was worried about Wilhelm. The two didn’t hear him, so entwined with their reunion.

Coming out of the stairway, Tim gasped. All seven ghosts were sprawled all over the hallway. Tim ran to the railing, gasping as some had been thrown over, one was even caught in the chandelier. They were limp and broken and even more see-through than normal. He covered his mouth. “You guys are hurt!”

“We’re ghosts, we just need to rest, we’ll be back to normal,” Olivia.

Biting his lip, Tim nodded, bouncing on his feet.

She smirked. “Go see your boy.”

Tim ran as fast as he could down the stairs, his body ached and yelled at him to take it easy, but he just couldn’t. He remembered to stop by the kitchen to pour a tablespoon amount of water in the container with the goo. He left it on the counter and made hs way to the basement, his body once more screeching at him.

“Wil?” he called, his voice cracking. He couldn’t see him immediately and his heart hit his throat. His vision blurred and he had to wipe them several times in order to see. “Wil!?”

There was a groan and Tim went for it. In the back of the basement, Wilhelm sat against a wall, covered in dust, bleeding and tangled in furniture pieces. Tim ran for him, stumbling when his leg buckled. He hit the ground hard.

“Tim!” Wilhelm scooted over to him, pulling him onto his lap. “Tim?” Wilhelm asked, looking him over.

Tim leaned on Wil’s shoulder, his head tucked under the man’s chin. “If I say I’m too hurt to move, can we just stay here?”

Wilhelm held him tight. “How hurt are you?”

“Probably not as hurt as you are.”

Chuckling, Wil moved to look at Tim, pulling his cheek down to look into his eye. “I ain’t that hurt, I’m used to getting thrown. You’re the one who hit the brick wall.”

Tim laughed, coughing. He winced.

“Yeah, okay, we’re getting up, you need a hospital.”

He refused to move. Now that his body had run out of adrenaline, it hurt like hell and it was too hard to think. But Wilhelm lifted him easily, cradling him in his arms. Tim was limp, but as they ascended the stairs, he couldn’t help the smile on his lips.

“What?”

“You’re just really strong.”

“Well, you don’t have a concussion.”

Tim laughed.

.:::::.

The doctors were horrified at Tim’s condition, not to mention Wil’s. He was definitely not as worse as Tim. The sorcerer hadn’t rammed him with fury like he had Tim. And the story about Tim only falling on the brick pile was barely received. They took Tim away and Wil paced the waiting room until they forced him to get looked at too. Then they left him alone for too long.

Finally, they came over to him. “Are you family?” they asked.

“Yes.” He didn’t know why he said it. Sure, he meant to lie, but for some reason, he didn’t feel like it was a lie, not with Timothy.

She eyed him and then shrugged. “You can see him now, he’s sleeping, but you can stay there as long as you like.”

Wil nodded and followed her. Tim lay in a bed, his eyes closed, sleeping. Wil pulled a chair up next to him and sat down, taking a his hand in his. He kissed it. “I’m so sorry, Tim. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I didn’t know I didn’t want you to get hurt until you were.”

Tim laughed, his lips widening. “You’re silly.”

Wil looked up.

Those wonderful lips smiled at him, Tim’s heavy lids fluttering open to look at Wil.

Wilhelm leaned in, smiling wide. “How are you feeling?”

“Great! They gave me…” Tim indicated the medication button. He giggled. “We did it, Wil! We saved the world!” Timothy giggled quietly. “I know I’m over exaggerating, but it’s fun!”

Wilhelm laughed. “I think I love you.”

Eyes widening, Tim’s smile was a little manic. “Wow! That’s just! I was thinking the same thing! I was thinking that, wow, you’re really strong and I need those muscles in my life, but of course, you’re great too, but man! Have you seen them? I just…” Timothy looked up at the ceiling. “I just love everything about you!” He giggled. “And you of course! I love everything about you and you! And I’m just sitting here, wondering how I can get you to stay in my life and my house, like, ya know, wake up with you everyday?”

Wilhelm laughed. “We can figure it out when you’re out and not drugged up.”

“Oh, hey! How’s everyone else?”

“I’ll stop by the house when you’re napping.”

“Okay, I left Goobriel on the counter next to the sink. Don’t feed him more than a tablepoon of water until we figure out what to really do with him, he loves water and I don’t need him in my pipes anymore.”

“Goobriel?” Wil asked, laughing.

“Yeah! I finally thought of a name for him! I was thinking Sludgington is way too obvious, and we can call Goobriel, Goob for short!”

Laughing heartily, Wilhelm nodded. “I like it. I’ll make sure to check up on him.”

.:::::.

Tim was brought home on Christmas day late in the morning. He sighed heavily as Wilhelm drove him home.

“What is it?” he asked, taking a hold of Tim’s hand.

“I never got to finish wrapping those presents…” Tim sighed heavily. “Oh well, I mean, the curse is broken, they’ve probably moved on…”

Wilhelm was silent. He didn’t say anything as they parked and he went around to Tim’s side and gently picked him up, holding him in his arms again.

“W-Wil,” Tim flushed. “I can walk myself.”

“Yeah,” Wil smirked. “But then you couldn’t adore my muscles. I know how much you love them.” He smiled wickedly.

Timothy blushed horribly, his hand resting on the man’s chest.

Wil kissed Tim’s head. “Let’s go.” He went into the house, dropping Tim’s bag in the hallway and going through the kitchen so Tim could see Goobriel. In his terrarium, Goobriel wiggled, happy and healthy. Wilhelm continued, walking him into the living room where Timothy gasped.

The Christmas tree sparkled with decorations and lights. Pristine and perfectly wrapped presents sat under the tree. All around the living room, ghosts stood, smiling at Tim.

“What!?” Tim’s eyes misted. “I thought… I thought you would all… move on… once the curse was broken!”

Janey smiled. “We can, but we all have unfinished business.”

“Yeah,” Norman  said. “We can’t just go to the afterlife without our Christmas presents!”

“Well, then you can never open them!” Tim laughed, eyes overflowing with tears.

Wilhelm sat him in a cushioned chair.

They smiled at him. Athena stepped forward. “We wanted to thank you, Timothy. You have always saw us as more than monsters and you kept your word and you set us free.” She pulled Janey to her. “You brought me back to my Janey and I can never thank you enough.”

Timothy smiled. “I’m just happy everyone’s safe now!”

“Thanks to you!”

Wilhelm stood behind Tim. He moved and collected all the presents and handed the first one to Tim. “Janey wrapped them.”

“Except for mine, of course, Norman wrapped that one.”

“It might be a little crooked.”

Timothy smiled. “I’m sure it’s going to be perfect!”

The ghost the present belonged to stepped forward and Tim handed it to them. It was an ornament. He’d gotten all of them an ornament, each corresponding with the year they’d died. The ghost looked at him, shocked.

“I wanted to replace the bad day with something good… With a nice memory…” Timothy sniffled. “They all remind me of you in some way…”

The ghost smiled and thanked Timothy. They turned and went to the tree, hanging it up. They turned around and smiled before fading into nothing. Timothy’s lips quivered. Hubert stepped forward then, blushing. “I…”

Tim smirked. “You finally got me, I have quite the bruise, you mischievous thing, you.” He handed an embarrassed, yet pleased Hubert his gift. It was a cat. “You’re sweet, but mischievous, just like a cat.”

Hubert flushed, his smile widening. “Thank you, Tim, for everything.” Hubert placed the cat on the side of the tre, smiling at if as he faded away.

One by one, Wil handed Tim a wrapped box and one by one, a ghost opened them, until only Janey, Athena’s, and Goobriel’s were left. Timothy, cheeks stained with tears, gave Athena’s to her.

She unwrapped it and held the police badge in her pale hand. She quirked a brow.

“You were a part of the police department before you died. You’re always protecting and fighting for those you love.”

She smiled. “This isn’t an ornament. This is an actual badge that you poked a hole in.”

Tim smiled. “It knew when to change in its environment.”

Athena smirked. “Yeah, okay.” She hung her ornament up and waited for Janey.

Janey unwrapped hers and gasped. It was an ornate glass star. She smiled, tears falling down her cheeks. She bent down and hugged Timothy. “I love it.”

“You always made my day brighter. I think you made everyone’s brighter.” Tim hugged her close. “Thank you for giving me a chance to be your friend.”

“Thank you for being my friend!” She kissed his cheek, leaving a cold impression. She hung her ornament and stood next to Athena, taking her hand in hers. “Thank you Timothy!” She blew him a kiss as the two disappeared.

The living room was silent. Tim stared all around before his hand covered his mouth and he began to cry. Wilhelm picked him up and set him in his lap and held Tim until they both fell asleep.

When Tim woke up, his eyes were dry and tired. He moaned and curled deeper into Wilhelm. Wil hugged him close. “How are you feeling?”

Tim was silent for a long while. “Empty…” he sniffled. “But I’ll be okay, we still have Goobriel.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t seen his present yet.”

Tim sat up, smiling a little. “He hasn’t, has he!”

“I’ll go collect him.”

Still sore, Tim bent over to pick up the present from the floor. When he sat back down, Wil was back with Goobriel in the small terrarium. It wiggled, vibrating excitedly at Tim. Tim showed him the present. “I got you this for Christmas!” He began to unwrap it and showed the round glass ornament with liquid and sparkles in it. Tim smiled wide. “See? It wiggles like you!” He moved it around, showing the moving liquid. Goobriel wiggled along with it.

Tim smiled wider, his heart warming. He stood and put the ornament on the tree with the other ten. He took a step back and looked at the glowing tree, brighter with the lowering sun. He felt his heart swell, remembering all the time he’d spent with his friends. They would always be there in his heart and in the wood and soul of this house. He would never forget them and he would always cherish them.

He went to Goobriel and stuck a finger in the tank and pet its head. “Merry Christmas, Goob!” It wrapped around Tim’s finger lovingly. Tim smiled at Wil. “Merry Christmas, Wil.”

“Merry Christmas, Tim.” Wilhelm leaved over to kiss him.

Tim looked at the tree and all the ornaments. “Merry Christmas everyone.”

[titaniasfics]

Fractured Light - A  Kalagang Oneshot

Okay, this is probably trash. But it wouldn’t leave me alone.

Rated M: Mature Situations

Note: I own nothing related to Sense8 or its characters, nor am I profiting from this writing.

Author’s Note:

This is my first foray into Kalagang fanfiction. Actually, this is my first Sense8 fanfiction ever.  

Fractured Light was inspired by the events at the end of Season 2 (where I think I might have died a little death). I don’t even try to speculate on how the cluster would have gotten Wolfgang out of BPO - that’s for another fanfic. Instead, I focus on the aftermath, in Paris, during what I imagine to be Wolfgang’s recover period.

XXXXX

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out

You left me in the dark

No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight

In the shadow of your heart

from Cosmic Love by Florence and the Machine

Wolfgang’s chest still ached even after nearly a week from being rescued from the BPO facility in Berlin. There was also a general soreness to his muscles that still made it hard for him to get out of bed in the morning. But he never complained about the residual pain from the electric shock.  Kala knew these things only because it was in their special nature to know these things about each other. He couldn’t hide the pain from her, even when he tried.

Just as she couldn’t hide her longing from him.

Kala thought about her cluster, now scattered to their home countries except for Riley, Will, Nomi and Neets, who were still London, dealing with the aftermath of Wolfgang’s extraction. Sun was the last to leave Kala, her parting gesture a remarkable strong hand placed over Kala’s fist.

I take everything I'm feeling, everything that matters to me... I push all of it into my fist, and I fight for it.

Kala knew a fight was coming, and her biggest adversary lay, weak with torture and self-loathing in the master bedroom of her Parisian flat.

She sipped a cup of strong coffee on the paint-chipped balcony, shivering in her pajamas. The black silk pant-set was much more demure than what she would wear in the heat of Bombay, but she found Paris to be much colder than she’d imagined though it was already spring. She’d taken to wrapping herself in a bright pink comforter to keep away the early morning chill as she continued to hold her vigil over Wolfgang.

He was awake now but he neither called out to her nor made any attempts to move; in fact, he had barely spoken to her since they’d arrived. It was clear that he wanted to ease into the day on his own. She understood this. Privacy was an illusion with sensates, connected as they were but she could pretend to give him space. To let him be alone with the tumult of his feelings, as long as they did not carry him away. That she would not allow.

She rose when he was ready and went to the kitchen to fetch his coffee and fix a meal tray. She tried to arrange for a typical German breakfast - butter bretzeln und käse or even pfannkuchen but they were in Paris and so she opted for a crusty, buttered roll, dutch cheese and a tartine.  She carried the tray to the bedroom and set it down on the end table. He’d risen, making his way gingerly to the bathroom. She wanted to help him, support him in some way but Wolfgang was not the kind of man who asked for help, even if he needed it. And he wanted very much to stand on his own feet after what had happened, becoming stronger and stronger every day.

Kala smoothed out the soft, white blankets as he ran the water, and took in the airy room painted in pale yellow, bordered with a typical ornate balustrade in braided leaves of tinted gold. The floor was a mosaic of tile in colors that picked up the pale yellow, adding blues, pinks, purples and golds of the decor. The blue sky beyond the wide balcony was dotted with the thick, white clouds of a perfect spring morning, complementing the cheerful colors within. These were tones she would have chosen for herself and she was again reminded that Rajan had bought this apartment, decorated and prepared it for her comfort and to keep her safe.

Her husband, who had so considerately arranged for the perfect hideaway for his wife and her lover.

Why didn’t she feel more ashamed of herself?

“Because, you have something dark and wicked inside,” Wolfgang’s voice came from somewhere inside of her, startling her but only for a moment. He now stood behind her - she had sensed not only his approach, but the intention behind it.

She turned her head to find his face was only a few inches from hers. “Just as you have something good and beautiful hiding inside of you.” She made sure to speak the words out loud.

That familiar, dark feeling flowed through him again, nearly crippling him, and in consequence, her. Instead of closing the space between them, he sat heavily on the mattress. She took the chair near the bed, folding her hands on her lap. Everything tasted of bitterness and it was tied, irrevocably, to her.

“Why do you do that?” she asked.

“You know why,” he said, turning his head away as if the sight of her pained him. It did, in fact, pain him. She was too aware of that fact.

“It means nothing to you that I disagree entirely?” she asked..

Wolfgang’s face became hard. There was still a drained look about him that was slowly improving, though the agony was the result of something that could not be seen. “It doesn’t matter if you agree or not. It’s the truth.”

Kala flipped the bangs that had fallen over her face.“You’re right. You betrayed me.”

His eyes went wide in surprise. “What?”

“You did,” she shrugged, numbering off her reasons as if she were reading from a delivery manifest. “You were tortured. You were drugged. And in your moment of greatest weakness, you betrayed me. Had you been held longer, you would have betrayed our entire cluster. They would have hunted us and either killed us or turned us into zombies. Did I leave anything out?”

“You’re crazy!” he said, the look of horror on his face bordering on the comical.

“This, I can agree with. In fact, I would propose that we are both crazy in the same way.”

She felt his struggle, the way he gnashed his teeth to keep from doing something embarrassing, like cry in front of her. She wanted to wrap herself around him, heal every wound that had ever been inflicted upon him but she could not make him forgive himself. This was one thing he had to do alone.

She reached for the blood pressure sleeve, the sound of velcro tearing itself apart resounded in the hollow space. Fumbling, she wrapped the black elastic material around his arm, receiving only his tortured silence. He said nothing still as she pressed the button on the machine, the pneumatic pump whirring to life. While the machine worked, she put the stethoscope over her ears, pressing the cool metal disc to his pulse. She was hardly a medic but she understood the fundamentals of human physiology.

“I think you are healing well despite the fact that the shocks put a great deal of strain on your heart.” She pulled a clip board from the end table, detaching the pen and updating the information on the pad. “You are very strong.”

He only stared at her, though he was a mass of conflicting emotions beneath the surface.

When the machine gave the digital reading, she made a notation on the chart, removed the sleeve, and set it aside. She picked up his coffee cup, offering it to him, her hands unsure but she willed themselves to be steady. Still he said nothing. Butterflies grew and spread throughout her body as she waited for him to take her offering.

“I think it’s gone cold,” she said finally.

He woke from his stupor and took the cup from her, placing it on the table next to them. Then he pulled her towards him and held her, a hug that said everything he couldn’t bring himself to say in words. Kala’s body gave itself up the contact, the press of skin against skin, the scrape of stubble as he dragged his chin across her shoulder. After a long while, he leaned back, his fingers curled in her dark hair.

“You should have stayed with Rajan,” he said finally.

Kala’s eyes narrowed until the muscles twitched. “Never say that to me again. This is not about Rajan. This is about you and me. Us.”

“BPO knows who you are now because of me,” he continued. She could barely sense anything beyond his self-loathing, like an opaque screening hiding him from her sight.

“None of us would have been able to withstand what you did for very long.” She dropped her eyes to her lap.  “You cannot be held responsible, for it is entirely my fault,” she whispered.

“How?” he asked with genuine confusion.

“If I had gone away with you instead of waiting for Rajan---”

“That’s not true.” He place a finger beneath her chin and gently lifted her face look at him. His eyes hungrily devouring every detail, a look of pain crossing his features. She felt that bottomless well of misery open within him, causing tears to spring involuntarily to her eyes. “I’ve given you nothing but trouble. It would be so much easier for you if they had ---“

“Would you stop it already!” she said, unable to separate her feelings from his, her anxiety and frustration with his guilt and and anger that was so old, it was an open artery that bled through his soul. “I told you, if something ever happened to you, my life would feel as if it were not worth living. You cannot use this argument with me any longer.”

“I could disappear.”

“You cannot!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I will not let you go.”

He sighed, the opaqueness of his sadness giving way to something more primitive, that thing she recognized as always burning between them. She clung to him but he pulled slowly back, his lips finding hers. A small gasp escaped her, an opening he took advantage of to taste her and kiss her thoroughly. She finally understood what Riley had meant by presence - Wolfgang was everywhere, his breath on her, inside of her. Her heart raced but there was an echo, a repeated cadence that told her she was not only experiencing herself, but also the sensation of his heart hammering inside of her chest. Everything was duplicated, multiplied until she thought she might overflow the boundaries of her body.

When they broke apart, he pressed his forehead against hers, his breath nearly insufficient for words. “Do you know this is the first time we’ve ever kissed in person?”

Kala smiled in relief. “We should make this count.” She sought out his lips and kissed him, sinking in a sea of sensation with only a dim perception of the world beyond them. Voices of pedestrians from the street below blended with the sounds of traffic to form a background that faded before his light blue eyes which now stared back at her with undisguised need.

He slipped his hands under the hem of her shirt, electricity springing from the points of contact. She couldn’t stop kissing him while his hands traversed her skin. Her hands, his skin, the wanting they felt for each other became tangled up until she could not tell where his ended and hers began.

His large palms covered her breasts, kneading them beneath the thin material of the silk pajamas. She shuffled to straddle him, pressing herself down onto his erection, poorly hidden by the flimsy cotton of his sleeping shorts.  It was his turn to groan, his hands fumbling impatiently with the buttons of her pajama top. The sun-warmed breeze blew across her exposed skin from the open window, his hands following the material, caressing her shoulder and arms. Simple. Such simple touches were enough to make a fire burn throughout her body.

He pressed her down onto the bed, tugging her pants and underwear off of her, pausing to admire her. “I have imagined you naked so many times,” he said, running his hands over her shoulders, down the side of her ribcage, over her waist and hips until they chased down the long muscles of her legs.

“Here, I thought you loved me for my mind,” she stammered.

He smiled, his first smile since she’d visited him in Berlin the day of his capture. A sob left her lips and she pulled him down to kiss him ferociously, her legs winding themselves around his waist, clasping him to her. Unlike their shared fantasy, in which she experienced him surrounded by waves of water, here she was rooted firmly by gravity, pinned between his hips and their bed. Heavier, more solid than in the abstract. He licked her neck, a long taste that made tremors race across her body, tremors whose response came in an answering shiver of his own. She was no longer a virgin - not in the technical sense - but the newness of his every touch returned her to the uncertain days of her girlhood.

She reveled in the confounding sensations of having him and being him - of his hand ghosting over her breasts, his tongue swirling over her nipples before his lips descended over them, the path of his mouth over her ribcage and her belly, squeezing her legs to pressure him for what she most wanted. This was met with gentle denial as he undid the knot of her feet and opened her, putting his mouth there and making fireworks burst inside of them both.

As she came down from her high, he was flushed and panting. He had felt her climax and was teetering at the edge of his own precipice. Their hands became tangled as they worked his shorts off, their mouths colliding wildly. His length rose from the dark blond curls at the apex of his thighs, which she encircled with her hands, working him with slow deliberation. The noises he made mingled with nonsense words, German words that held no meaning.

He pulled away suddenly, eyes that were normally hooded with danger now dark blue with lust. Kala leaned back as he crawled over her body, leaving kisses as he went, every sensation he evoked now connected as if by a cord to the deepest place in her belly. She clung to him, kissing him as he pressed his hardness against her, rubbing against her slickness until, without warning, he froze.

His eyes were filled with uncharacteristic vulnerability. Even the slight quivering in his voice was not hidden from her because he was asking for something beyond that moment.

“Do you really want this?”

Kala tilted her head. “When I told you I loved you, I meant it.”

He dipped his forehead to touch hers. “That's a yes?”

She was breathless now with her need to have him inside of her. She lifted her hips, pressing against him.

“Yes.”

He nodded once and lunged, filling her in one, powerful thrust. She arched upwards, a loud cry exploding from her before his mouth smothered it. Locked together, he spared nothing as he rocked in and out of her, at first slowly, then more frenetically. She no longer felt the ever-present chill of this city which now belonged to them. Instead, sweat burst out in a damp sheen over them both.

Kala could only hold on as the tension rose, multiplying between them. She had a sudden vision of a lecture on the natural e function, heard her professor’s voice defining the number and its slope, describing how e goes to infinity in both x and y, how there was no natural end to the function at its limit. As they climbed together, she felt Wolfgang’s breath near her ear and thought they were approaching something without limit, something that could rise and rise, each coordinate driving the other toward eternity.

Then he whispered her name.

“Kala…”

Everything burst into a thousand shards of fractured light.

Light and dark, fire and water; the point where there were no longer distinct elements. Kala and Wolfgang disappeared.

And after, there was only peace.

XXXXX

Kala could not say she’d fallen asleep. That would have implied unconsciousness. And she was far from unconscious. She heard life bubbling up beneath the balcony. She felt the pressure of the bunched up blanket pressing insistently into her lower back. She smelled their sex hanging thick in the air.

But beyond that, she was completely surrounded by Wolfgang. His head lay on her breast, his chest rising and falling against her belly.  Kala wedged her toes between the mattress and his thigh. Presence. Kala was not simply with Wolfgang. She did not exist alongside him. She was submerged in his being, just as he was in hers. She also understood how the loss of such a thing might irrevocably damage a person, or a cluster, forever.

Wolfgang stirred, his cheek sweaty where it lay pressed against her. She didn’t mind it, even whining in protest when he tried to lift himself from her.

“Don’t,” she ordered, squeezing her arms around him.  His long sigh sent warm breath over her skin.

“I will crush you,” he murmured.

“I can handle it.”

He lay a while longer before lifting his head to look at her. “What do we do now?”

Kala ran a finger over his lips, indulging in memorizing his face. “The first priority is for you to heal completely. Then we wait for Will to tell us what the next steps are.”

He captured her finger between his teeth, nipping it before releasing it. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” She shifted when he rose to lay beside her, pulling her onto his chest. “We are in Paris! One of the most beautiful cities in the world. We enjoy it.”

She sensed the encroaching self-hatred steal over him again, the one she wanted to hold back forever. “I’ll never forgive myself, but I’m too selfish to leave you alone.”

Kala lifted herself on her elbow to look down on him with a smirk. “I believe this demonstrates a particular lack of good character on your part that should be of great concern.”

His eyes widened before crinkling in humor. “If this is the case than we are perfect for each other.”

fin

[724towingserviceomaha-blog]

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Mobile brake pad replacement at your home or office makes a simple job even easier! Even though brake pad replacement is a fairly straight forward job, the commute to and from the mechanic can take up a whole afternoon.

Having your brake pads replaced on site saves that commuting time. You can continue to work, whether at home or the office, and our mobile mechanics will come to you. Most vehicle repairs can be done right in your driveway and we’ll even come out to give you the repair estimates.

WHAT IS A BRAKE PAD REPLACEMENT?

The braking system of your car is essentially made up of three main parts: The rotor (the shiny disc you can sometimes see behind the rims or hubcaps) the brake pads, which make contact with the rotor when you apply the brakes, and the caliper, which holds the brake pads and squeezes them onto both sides of the rotor to create friction to slow the wheel down.

A simple brake pad replacement takes the old pads off the caliper, and replaces them. A full brake job can involve fixing or replacing all of the parts mentioned.

HOW IS A BRAKE PAD REPLACEMENT DONE?

Depending on how much you drive, you’ll need to change your brake pads about every 50,000 miles or sooner.

 The old pads are removed from the caliper and replaced with the new ones. The rotors are checked for any wear and damage. Through use, the rotors can become warped, and brake debris can build up from the brake pads. Every second or third brake change should include getting your rotors turned, or machined. This gets rid of the built-up debris and warping, keeping your rotors smooth and extending their life.

SYMPTOMS THAT INDICATE YOU NEED A BRAKE PAD REPLACEMENT

Brake pads are designed to create a noticeable squealing noise when they need to be changed. This is built into the brake pad, and when it makes contact with the rotor, the friction causes the noise. If you hear grinding, which is metal on metal, you have waited too long and you may begin doing damage to your braking system.

IMPORTANCE

Pads are responsible for stopping and slowing down your car. Without this ability, you essentially do not have control of your car.

Pads are typically cheap, as they are intended to be replaced promptly when needed.

AVERAGE COST

Brake pad replacement averages around $100 per axle, or a range of $100 to $300. This is a fairly straight forward job, and is possible to do on your own. However, if there are additional issues that are found once you have the car up, you could find yourself working on a much longer project.

You’ll also need to make an initial investment for all the tools required, including a jack and jack stands. The investment spent on tools would be better spent paying an experienced, qualified mechanic that can come to you.

MOBILE MECHANIC FREQUENTLY ASK QUESTION

WHAT IS A MOBILE MECHANIC?

Mobile mechanic is the new way to get your vehicle repair at home, on the side of the road, at your office or anywhere else. Instead you take your car, truck or van to an auto shop. They come to you.

Do Mobile Mechanic Charge a Fee to come you?

Depend on the mobile mechanic service, sometime if they come and tell you what is wrong with your automobile and you let them do the repair. They might wave the fee for you or the best way to find out is Click here and just asks them.

Can a Mobile Mechanic Service Fix My Automobile Anywhere?

Yes, a mobile mechanic service can repair your car, truck or van anywhere, at your house or home while watching them doing their work or you could be doing whatever you please while they are working in your vehicle, at your job while you are working, at your office while you are taking care of your business or on the side of the road.

Do I Buy My Parts or the Mobile Mechanic bring their parts?

Majority of the time you purchase you own part so you can keep your parts warranty or you could let them buy the parts for you. If you think it is going to be cheaper, if they use their commercial account they have with auto parts stores.

What is the method of payment for Mobile Mechanic Service?

All mobile mechanic Service prefer cash as their method of the payment while some of them will take credit card or check as a payment and others will not take them. Go to our contact page and ask them right of front.

Can Mobile Mechanic Service complete larger repair work on site?

Professional Mobile Mechanic Vans or Truck are fully equipped workshops so we can conduct most repairs on site. For select larger jobs we may take vehicles to a partner workshop, but we’ll do the running around for you at no extra charge – so you can get on with your day.

Can a mobile mechanic service fix any types of vehicles?

No, some mobile mechanic service can only work on gasoline vehicle while other can work on both gasoline and diesel automobile.

Can Mobile Mechanic Service repair my motorbike, scooter, or commercial vehicle?

Yes and No. Some can other may not. All You have to do is ask. Even do the odd tractor, caravan and trailer.

Do mobile mechanic service provide guaranty for their work?

Most of them do give guaranty for the mechanic work they do on their parts they install or replace.

What is the open hour of Mobile Mechanic Service?

Most Mobile Mechanic Service are open as early as 6 AM to 10 PM depend on the location and auto part store hours while some of them are operate 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The simple way to find out is find your mobile mechanics service at your location and give them a quick call and ask.

Do Mobile Mechanic Service Work on the weekend and Holidays?

Some mobile mechanic service work on the week and holidays, while some of them only work on the week days; the best way to find out is call and ask.

If you think we miss some of the FAQ about mobile mechanic service on this article. Please post it on the comment box below or if you like this article please use the share button to share.

BEST MOBILE MECHANIC IN OMAHA NE

724 TOWING SERVICE OMAHA

REQUEST MORE INFORMATION. CONTACT US NOW

 FX Mobile Mechanic Services Omaha

CONTACT: (402) 401 - 7563

SERVICES: Mobile Mechanic Mobile Roadside Assistance Emergency Repair Tire Change, 24 Hour Mobile Truck Repair Omaha, Boat Trailer Repair Omaha, Cummins Diesel Repair Omaha

Diesel Repair Omaha, Diesel Truck Repair, Diesel Repair Service Omaha

OPEN 7 DAYS 24 HOURS

WEB: www.mobilemechanicomaha.com

http://www.mobilemechanicomaha.com/

 Mobile Auto Truck Repair Omaha

CONTACT: (402) 401-7561

SERVICES: Mobile Auto Repair & Mobile Mechanic, RV Repair, Engine Swap, Engine Replacement, Mobile Brake Service, Starter Replacement, Mobile Truck Repair Service Near Me, Mobile Diesel Mechanic Omaha, Mobile Flat Tire Repair Omaha, Mobile Mechanic Omaha

Mobile Rv Repair Omaha, Mobile Rv Repair Omaha Ne, Mobile Semi Truck Repair Near Me

Mobile Trailer Repair Omaha, Omaha Diesel Shops, Omaha Mobile Rv Repair

OPEN 7 DAYS 24 HOURS

WEB: www.mobileautorepairomaha.com

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 Omaha Mobile Mechanic

CONTACT: (402) 513-4411

SERVICES: Mobile Mechanic Omaha, Mobile Mechanic Council Bluffs, Mobile Roadside Assistance, Emergency Auto Repair, Tire Change, Mobile Truck Repair, Diagnostic, Pre-Purchase Inspection, Mobile Power Door and Window Repair, Replacing Wheel Hub Bike, Roadside Assistance Omaha, Semi-Trailer Repair Omaha NE, Semi-Trailer Repair Near Me, Semi-Trailer Repair Shop Near Me, Semi-Truck & Trailer Repair North Omaha NE, Semi-Truck & Trailer Repair South Omaha NE, Semi-Truck Repair Omaha NE

Semi-Truck Road Service Near Me, Tire Repair Omaha, Truck and Trailer Repair Omaha

Truck Road Service Near Me, Wheel Hub Replacement, Wheel Bearing Replacement

OPEN 7 DAYS 24 HOURS

WEB: www.mobilemechanicnearomahane.com

EMAIL: omahahs@gmail.com

http://www.mobilemechanicnearomahane.com/

 724 Towing Service Omaha

CONTACT: (402) 401-7564

SERVICES: Towing Service, Roadside Assistance, Jump Start, Fuel Delivery, Tire Repair, Tow Truck, Car Towing, Truck Towing, 24 Hour Towing Service, Towing Company

OPEN 7 DAYS 24 HOURS

WEB: www.towingserviceomaha.com

http://www.towingserviceomaha.com/

  Towing and Roadside Assistance Omaha

CONTACT: (402) 590-8094

SERVICES: 24 hour Towing Service, 24 Hour Roadside Assistance, Tow Truck, 24 hr Auto Repair, Towing Service, Roadside Assistance, Jump Start, Fuel Delivery, Tire Repair, Mobile Mechanic, Onsite Auto Truck Repair.

SERVICE AREA: Omaha, Council Bluffs, Bellevue, Papillion, Blair, Plattsmouth Nebraska and Iowa.

OPEN 7 DAYS 24 HOURS

WEB: www.roadsideassistanceomaha.com

http://www.roadsideassistanceomaha.com/

SERVICE AREA:

Downtown Omaha, Central Omaha, Southwest Omaha and Sarpy County (La Vista, Bellevue, Omaha, Papillion, Gretna, Offutt AFB, Springfield) Douglass County (Omaha, Bennington, Elkhorn, Boys Town, Valley, Waterloo), Pottawattamie County (Council Bluffs, Avoca, Carson, Carter Lake), Cass County ( Weeping Water, Alvo, Avoca, Cedar Creek, Eagle, Elmwood, Greenwood, Louisville, Manley, Murdock, Murray, Nehawka, Plattsmouth, South Bend, Union) including the communities of Bellevue, Blair, Carter Lake, Elkhorn, Fort Calhoun, Gretna, La Vista, Millard, Omaha, Papillion, Ceresco NE, Ralston, Springfield and Waterloo, NE, Lincoln Nebraska and Council Bluffs, IA. Zip codes: 68007, 68010, 68017, 68022, 68102, 68104, 68105, 68106, 68107, 68108, 68110, 68111, 68112, 68114, 68116, 68117, 68118, 68122, 68124, 68127, 68130, 68131, 68132, 68134, 68135, 68137, 68142, 68144, 68147, 68152, 68154, 68157, 68164, 68178, 68073.

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[omahamobilemechanic-blog]

Best Mobile Mechanic Omaha Mobile Auto Truck Mechanic Services in Omaha NE | Omaha Mobile Mechanic

More information is at: http://www.mobilemechanicnearomahane.com/mobile-mechanic-services.html

https://youtu.be/_4U1fKZm4n4

Reliable Mobile Mechanic Omaha: Need a mobile mechanic near Omaha NE? We are Professional Certified Licensed Mobile auto repair technicians Providing the best customer service and repairs fully equipped service trucks with licensed mechanics at your convenience. Call us for 24 Hour Mobile Mechanic Omaha, Craigslist Omaha Mobile Mechanic, Mobile Mechanic Omaha Reviews, Mobile Mechanic Omaha NE, Mobile Mechanic Near Me, Cheap Mobile Mechanic Near Me, Best Mobile Mechanic Omaha, Mobile Mechanic Omaha Yelp. Certified and licensed Quality Affordable Repairs. Please contact us with the year make model and need of repair or problem FOR MOBILE MECHANIC SERVICES! Free estimates if we fix your car or truck. Call us for Mobile brake pad replacement, rotor repair, serpentine belt, alternator change, starter installation, spark plugs, sensor replacement, water pump repair, hoses replacement and radiator replacement services.

REQUEST A QUOTE TODAY!

ONSITE MOBILE MECHANIC SERVICES from OMAHA MOBILE MECHANIC

·         Struts And Shocks

·         Filters Replacements/ Fluid

·         Brakes/Rotors/Calipers

·         Tune Ups

·         Radiators & Hoses

·         Rotors/Calipers/Brake

·         Hardware

·         Starters

·         Belts

·         02 Sensors

·         Fuel Pumps. Small Vehicles

·         On Site Battery Replacement

·         Sensors/ Cam, Crank

·         24 Hour Mobile Mechanic Omaha,

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CALL US FOR:

·         Brake Service and Repairs - This includes Disc and Drum braking systems.

·         Charging Systems - Alternator Replacement

·         Steering and suspension - Shocks, Struts, Control Arms, CV Axles, Steering Gear/ Rack and pinion, Sway bars, Stabilizer links, Wheel Bearings, Ball Joints, and Tie Rod ends.

·         Cooling Systems - Water Pumps, Thermostats, Radiators, Cooling Fans, Temperature Sensors, and Radiator Hoses.

·         Engine - Crank and Camshaft Position Sensors, Valve Cover Gaskets, Mass Air Flow Sensors, etc.

·         Starting/Ignition Systems - Starters, Spark plugs, Ignition Coils, Spark Plug Wires, Distributors, Distributor Caps and Rotors.

·         Interior and Exterior Repairs - Window Motors/Regulators, Multi-function switch, etc.

·         Tune-ups - Includes Spark Plugs, Oil, Oil Filter, Air Filter, Cabin air filter, and Throttle Body Cleaning

BEST OMAHA MOBILE MECHANIC AUTO REPAIR

ON SITE DIESEL OR GAS ENGINE AUTO OR TRUCK REPAIR

Your Car Fixed Where It Is

We will come to your home and fix your car where it is.  No need to call a tow truck, no need to schedule appointments, no need to pay over inflated shop prices for jobs that happen behind closed doors.

Omaha Mobile Mechanic

​Does Emergency Calls

​If We are available, we will come to your car the same day to see what the problem is.

Regular Maintenance Or Break Downs

Just need an oil change? Or is there something definitely wrong with your car. Don't keep driving with symptoms, get it fixed now!  I will come and diagnose the problem, find the parts and have you on the road ASAP!

Fast, Friendly, Guaranteed Satisfaction

24 HOUR EMERGENCY REPAIR OMAHA MOBILE MECHANIC

·         Emergency Battery Charge

·         Emergency Engine Repair

·         Emergency Roadside Assistance

·         Emergency Part Replacement

Did you wake up in the morning and your car won't start?

Maybe your car just died on the side of the road or you've been putting off investigating that sound in the wheels until you can sacrifice not having your car for a few days or a week!

Well those are all reasons above to call the best Mobile Auto Repair in the Omaha area.

MOBILE DIESEL MECHANIC

Ah Omaha! There is the clear blue skies, the Puget Sound, the boats, the salmon, the Space Needle, and then there is the rain, cold, snowy mountain passes and some of the worst traffic congestion in the nation. The last thing you want to be, is stuck in traffic, or worse yet!, Broke down in traffic. It's a good thing Omaha's Best Mobile Mechanic is around to do Mobile Diesel Repair in the Omaha Area.

The best think about OMAHA MOBILE MECHANIC is that we know the area like the back of our hand. We are out in the midst of it all. We train ourselves to be the best we can be in order to live up to our name.  We pride ourselves on being fast courteous knowledgeable and most importantly honest. The Mobile Auto Repair industry is growing and with it grows some mounting distrust as some unscrupulous people have tried scam customers.

Let's face it, Omaha's weather can bring out the best and the worst in people and their cars.

When was the last time you had regular maintenance performed on your vehicle?  If it has been a while do you yourself a favor and give us a call immediately so we can put you on our scheduled to have regular bi-yearly maintenance done on your car.

You and your family will thank you for taking care of this important responsibility.

Mobile Diesel Repair in Omaha is more than just for emergencies, many folks use us to do their regular oil changes and inspections at least twice a year. It works great

Omaha Mobile Diesel Repair​

ON SITE AUTO REPAIR

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·         24 Hour Auto Repair Omaha

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CARS WE SERVICE

·         Chevrolet Mechanic

·         Acura Mechanic

·         Kia Mechanic

·         Mazda Mechanic

POPULAR SERVICES

·         Fuel Pump

·         Radiator replacement

·         Timing belt replacement

·         Serpentine belt replacement

·         Transmission fluid service

·         Ignition coil replacement

HOW MUCH DOES IT COST FOR A MOBILE MECHANIC?

In general, expect to pay roughly what you would pay a traditional mechanic; any cost difference should not be drastic. Hourly rates will be around $30-75, plus the cost of parts. Ask about warranties on parts and labor.

WHAT IS A MOBILE MECHANIC?

Mobile mechanics diagnose and fix cars at owners' homes. ... At a time when few medical doctors still make house calls, a growing number of car doctors are driving to customers' houses or places of business to perform repairs and maintenance while the customers continue their usual daily routines.

PREVENTATIVE MAINTENANCE

·         Oil Changes

·         Batteries

·         Wiper Blades & Headlights

·         State Inspection

·         Heating & Cooling

·         Engine Diagnosis

·         Brakes

·         Transmission Fluid

·         Serpentine Belt

REPAIR SERVICES:

·         Timing Belts

·         Starters

·         Alternators

·         Spark Plugs

·         Gaskets

·         Axles

·         Water Pump

·         Fuel Pump

·         Ignition Coil

WHY PERFORM A PRE-PURCHASE USED CAR INSPECTION?

Automobile purchases are one of the top three most expensive purchase you will make in any given year. Used cars have been driven for years by someone else, so it is important to know the current condition of the vehicle you are looking to invest in.

Modern vehicles have very extensive mechanical and electrical systems that only a trained Omaha Mobile Mechanic technician can troubleshoot and diagnose. Problems, if not discovered, could cost you thousands of dollars to repair after your purchase. You wouldn’t purchase a home without an inspection – so why bypass this step when purchasing a vehicle. An used car inspection by one of our Omaha Mobile Mechanic mechanics will save you money in the long run. Our Omaha Mobile Mechanic technicians are familiar with all types of cars and trucks.

Omaha Mobile Mechanic expert inspectors can provide you with what matters most, knowledge and awareness. What this means to our clients is more security when making their purchasing decision.

MOBILE BRAKE PAD REPLACEMENT AT HOME OR OFFICE

Mobile brake pad replacement at your home or office makes a simple job even easier! Even though brake pad replacement is a fairly straight forward job, the commute to and from the mechanic can take up a whole afternoon.

Having your brake pads replaced on site saves that commuting time. You can continue to work, whether at home or the office, and our mobile mechanics will come to you. Most vehicle repairs can be done right in your driveway and we’ll even come out to give you the repair estimates.

WHAT IS A BRAKE PAD REPLACEMENT?

The braking system of your car is essentially made up of three main parts: The rotor (the shiny disc you can sometimes see behind the rims or hubcaps) the brake pads, which make contact with the rotor when you apply the brakes, and the caliper, which holds the brake pads and squeezes them onto both sides of the rotor to create friction to slow the wheel down.

A simple brake pad replacement takes the old pads off the caliper, and replaces them. A full brake job can involve fixing or replacing all of the parts mentioned.

HOW IS A BRAKE PAD REPLACEMENT DONE?

Depending on how much you drive, you’ll need to change your brake pads about every 50,000 miles or sooner.

 The old pads are removed from the caliper and replaced with the new ones. The rotors are checked for any wear and damage. Through use, the rotors can become warped, and brake debris can build up from the brake pads. Every second or third brake change should include getting your rotors turned, or machined. This gets rid of the built-up debris and warping, keeping your rotors smooth and extending their life.

SYMPTOMS THAT INDICATE YOU NEED A BRAKE PAD REPLACEMENT

Brake pads are designed to create a noticeable squealing noise when they need to be changed. This is built into the brake pad, and when it makes contact with the rotor, the friction causes the noise. If you hear grinding, which is metal on metal, you have waited too long and you may begin doing damage to your braking system.

IMPORTANCE

Pads are responsible for stopping and slowing down your car. Without this ability, you essentially do not have control of your car.

Pads are typically cheap, as they are intended to be replaced promptly when needed.

AVERAGE COST

Brake pad replacement averages around $100 per axle, or a range of $100 to $300. This is a fairly straight forward job, and is possible to do on your own. However, if there are additional issues that are found once you have the car up, you could find yourself working on a much longer project.

You’ll also need to make an initial investment for all the tools required, including a jack and jack stands. The investment spent on tools would be better spent paying an experienced, qualified mechanic that can come to you.

MOBILE MECHANIC FREQUENTLY ASK QUESTION

WHAT IS A MOBILE MECHANIC?

Mobile mechanic is the new way to get your vehicle repair at home, on the side of the road, at your office or anywhere else. Instead you take your car, truck or van to an auto shop. They come to you.

Do Mobile Mechanic Charge a Fee to come you?

Depend on the mobile mechanic service, sometime if they come and tell you what is wrong with your automobile and you let them do the repair. They might wave the fee for you or the best way to find out is Click here and just asks them.

Can a Mobile Mechanic Service Fix My Automobile Anywhere?

Yes, a mobile mechanic service can repair your car, truck or van anywhere, at your house or home while watching them doing their work or you could be doing whatever you please while they are working in your vehicle, at your job while you are working, at your office while you are taking care of your business or on the side of the road.

Do I Buy My Parts or the Mobile Mechanic bring their parts?

Majority of the time you purchase you own part so you can keep your parts warranty or you could let them buy the parts for you. If you think it is going to be cheaper, if they use their commercial account they have with auto parts stores.

What is the method of payment for Mobile Mechanic Service?

All mobile mechanic Service prefer cash as their method of the payment while some of them will take credit card or check as a payment and others will not take them. Go to our contact page and ask them right of front.

Can Mobile Mechanic Service complete larger repair work on site?

Professional Mobile Mechanic Vans or Truck are fully equipped workshops so we can conduct most repairs on site. For select larger jobs we may take vehicles to a partner workshop, but we’ll do the running around for you at no extra charge – so you can get on with your day.

Can a mobile mechanic service fix any types of vehicles?

No, some mobile mechanic service can only work on gasoline vehicle while other can work on both gasoline and diesel automobile.

Can Mobile Mechanic Service repair my motorbike, scooter, or commercial vehicle?

Yes and No. Some can other may not. All You have to do is ask. Even do the odd tractor, caravan and trailer.

Do mobile mechanic service provide guaranty for their work?

Most of them do give guaranty for the mechanic work they do on their parts they install or replace.

What is the open hour of Mobile Mechanic Service?

Most Mobile Mechanic Service are open as early as 6 AM to 10 PM depend on the location and auto part store hours while some of them are operate 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The simple way to find out is find your mobile mechanics service at your location and give them a quick call and ask.

Do Mobile Mechanic Service Work on the weekend and Holidays?

Some mobile mechanic service work on the week and holidays, while some of them only work on the week days; the best way to find out is call and ask.

If you think we miss some of the FAQ about mobile mechanic service on this article. Please post it on the comment box below or if you like this article please use the share button to share.

BEST MOBILE MECHANIC IN OMAHA NE

OMAHA MOBILE MECHANIC

REQUEST MORE INFORMATION. CONTACT US NOW

 FX Mobile Mechanic Services Omaha

CONTACT: (402) 401 - 7563

SERVICES: Mobile Mechanic Mobile Roadside Assistance Emergency Repair Tire Change, 24 Hour Mobile Truck Repair Omaha, Boat Trailer Repair Omaha, Cummins Diesel Repair Omaha

Diesel Repair Omaha, Diesel Truck Repair, Diesel Repair Service Omaha

OPEN 7 DAYS 24 HOURS

WEB: www.mobilemechanicomaha.com

http://www.mobilemechanicomaha.com/

 Mobile Auto Truck Repair Omaha

CONTACT: (402) 401-7561

SERVICES: Mobile Auto Repair & Mobile Mechanic, RV Repair, Engine Swap, Engine Replacement, Mobile Brake Service, Starter Replacement, Mobile Truck Repair Service Near Me, Mobile Diesel Mechanic Omaha, Mobile Flat Tire Repair Omaha, Mobile Mechanic Omaha

Mobile Rv Repair Omaha, Mobile Rv Repair Omaha Ne, Mobile Semi Truck Repair Near Me

Mobile Trailer Repair Omaha, Omaha Diesel Shops, Omaha Mobile Rv Repair

OPEN 7 DAYS 24 HOURS

WEB: www.mobileautorepairomaha.com

http://www.mobileautorepairomaha.com/

 Omaha Mobile Mechanic

CONTACT: (402) 513-4411

SERVICES: Mobile Mechanic Omaha, Mobile Mechanic Council Bluffs, Mobile Roadside Assistance, Emergency Auto Repair, Tire Change, Mobile Truck Repair, Diagnostic, Pre-Purchase Inspection, Mobile Power Door and Window Repair, Replacing Wheel Hub Bike, Roadside Assistance Omaha, Semi-Trailer Repair Omaha NE, Semi-Trailer Repair Near Me, Semi-Trailer Repair Shop Near Me, Semi-Truck & Trailer Repair North Omaha NE, Semi-Truck & Trailer Repair South Omaha NE, Semi-Truck Repair Omaha NE

Semi-Truck Road Service Near Me, Tire Repair Omaha, Truck and Trailer Repair Omaha

Truck Road Service Near Me, Wheel Hub Replacement, Wheel Bearing Replacement

OPEN 7 DAYS 24 HOURS

WEB: www.mobilemechanicnearomahane.com

EMAIL: omahahs@gmail.com

http://www.mobilemechanicnearomahane.com/

 724 Towing Service Omaha

CONTACT: (402) 401-7564

SERVICES: Towing Service, Roadside Assistance, Jump Start, Fuel Delivery, Tire Repair, Tow Truck, Car Towing, Truck Towing, 24 Hour Towing Service, Towing Company

OPEN 7 DAYS 24 HOURS

WEB: www.towingserviceomaha.com

http://www.towingserviceomaha.com/

  Towing and Roadside Assistance Omaha

CONTACT: (402) 590-8094

SERVICES: 24 hour Towing Service, 24 Hour Roadside Assistance, Tow Truck, 24 hr Auto Repair, Towing Service, Roadside Assistance, Jump Start, Fuel Delivery, Tire Repair, Mobile Mechanic, Onsite Auto Truck Repair.

SERVICE AREA: Omaha, Council Bluffs, Bellevue, Papillion, Blair, Plattsmouth Nebraska and Iowa.

OPEN 7 DAYS 24 HOURS

WEB: www.roadsideassistanceomaha.com

http://www.roadsideassistanceomaha.com/

SERVICE AREA:

Downtown Omaha, Central Omaha, Southwest Omaha and Sarpy County (La Vista, Bellevue, Omaha, Papillion, Gretna, Offutt AFB, Springfield) Douglass County (Omaha, Bennington, Elkhorn, Boys Town, Valley, Waterloo), Pottawattamie County (Council Bluffs, Avoca, Carson, Carter Lake), Cass County ( Weeping Water, Alvo, Avoca, Cedar Creek, Eagle, Elmwood, Greenwood, Louisville, Manley, Murdock, Murray, Nehawka, Plattsmouth, South Bend, Union) including the communities of Bellevue, Blair, Carter Lake, Elkhorn, Fort Calhoun, Gretna, La Vista, Millard, Omaha, Papillion, Ceresco NE, Ralston, Springfield and Waterloo, NE, Lincoln Nebraska and Council Bluffs, IA. Zip codes: 68007, 68010, 68017, 68022, 68102, 68104, 68105, 68106, 68107, 68108, 68110, 68111, 68112, 68114, 68116, 68117, 68118, 68122, 68124, 68127, 68130, 68131, 68132, 68134, 68135, 68137, 68142, 68144, 68147, 68152, 68154, 68157, 68164, 68178, 68073.

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[robertkstone]

2019 Chevrolet Volt First Drive: 108 Million Saved

Long ago, McDonald’s signs kept a running tally of the number of burgers served globally. At the launch of its midcycle enhanced 2019 Volt, Chevrolet triggered my memory of those signs by announcing that drivers of the 140,000 Volts sold to date had logged 2.8 billion electric miles, saving 108 million gallons of gas. That is, after all, the Volt’s raison d’etre—to provide swift, silent electric operation with a just-in-case engine and gas tank onboard as a range anxiety cure. As the initial chaperone of our 2011 Car of the Year–winning long-term Volt, I can tell you that a tiny piece of me died every time that engine fired up. For 2016, the second-gen Volt minimized those engine startups by stretching the EV-only range another 15 miles, and for 2019 two additional improvements promise to keep that engine quiet for even longer.

A new 7.2-kW onboard charging system (standard on Premier models and a $750 option on base models) doubles the charging rate. This cuts the time required to restore full charge roughly in half and significantly increases the amount of energy that can be stored during brief “opportunity charging” stops while shopping or running errands. And Rust Belt drivers like me will hear a lot less engine noise in the winter thanks to a change that lowers the temperature threshold at which the engine fires to assist with heating to -13 degrees Fahrenheit. My 2011 Volt fired up whenever the mercury dropped below a comparatively balmy 27 degrees.

Other noteworthy improvements: The amount of regenerative braking provided in the L gearshift position and via the regen-on-demand steering wheel paddle is revised to enable easier “one-pedal driving.” Upgrading to Chevy’s new Infotainment 3 system brings a higher-resolution 8.0-inch touchscreen featuring a new energy app that indicates the impact of things like terrain, climate-control usage, exterior weather conditions, and driving style on the car’s electric range. But instead of a dimensionless score, results are expressed in miles of EV driving either saved or—in my case—squandered.

You see, our drive route through hilly rural Vermont in the fall-color preseason included delightful twists, turns, and elevation changes that I utilized to probe the Volt’s modest limits of adhesion. By the time the battery was exhausted the app scolded me for having enthused away 14 miles of potential electric operation. (It turns out that a bigger piece of me dies when I fail to exploit a spectacular stretch of road.)

  Other changes mostly bring the Volt up to date with the latest Chevy hardware. Premier models get a six-way power seat, the cruise control system can now be operated in adaptive or normal mode, the rearview camera is improved, a tire-fill alert system toots the horn when the target pressure is reached, and the wireless charging pad moves ahead of the shifter for easier accessibility. Cosmetic upgrades include new stitching patterns on the seats, a new porcelain blue and jet-black two-tone interior offering on Premier models, and the addition of Pacific Blue to the paint color palette.

During our hilly test drive I mostly left the car in L mode and used the regen-on-demand paddle to avoid pressing the brake pedal (which, when used normally provides slightly better than average feel as blended hydraulic/electric regen systems go). The tires are still optimized for rolling resistance and therefore tend to complain when you lean on them in sharp corners, but body motions are pretty well controlled when transitioning in and out of the hairpins.

I fell deeply in love with that first Volt, but I don’t find myself bonding with this one in the same way. Having now driven so many great new EVs promising 200-plus miles of range (like Chevy’s Bolt EV), the Volt’s electric acceleration seems less, well, electrifying, and the range anxiety that Volts aim to cure seems far less acute nowadays. Then there’s the realization that, while the Volt can still crisscross the continent as easily as any conventional car, it’s not as ideally suited to that duty cycle in terms of size and shape as, say, a Pacifica hybrid would be. Maybe this is a great idea whose time has come and gone already—and if you feel otherwise, you’d better act soon because 2020 is expected to be the Volt’s last year.

2019 Chevrolet Volt BASE PRICE $34,395-$38,995 VEHICLE LAYOUT Front-engine, FWD, 5-pass, 4-door hatchback ENGINE 1.5L/101-hp/103-lb-ft Atkinson cycle DOHC 16-valve I-plus two electric motors; 149 hp/294 lb-ft comb TRANSMISSION Cont. variable auto CURB WEIGHT 3,550 lb (mfr) WHEELBASE 106.1 in LENGTH X WIDTH X HEIGHT 180.4 x 71.2 x 56.4 in 0-60 MPH 7.5 sec (MT est) EPA CITY/HWY/COMB ECON (gas) 43/42/42 mpg, (elect comb) 106 mpge ENERGY CONS, COMB (gas) 80 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB (gas) 0.46 lb/mile ON SALE IN U.S. Currently

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