#thinking of that cat show where the cat has a squashed face and the judge calls them a 'beautiful' representation of their breed

[fireheartedpup]

We already have, but I appreciate the sentiment

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

-----

The next day, Marinette woke up in her bed, still dressed. By the time her father brought her into her room, she was already asleep. The emotions finally caught up with her somewhere along the way. Remembering the end of the evening, her eyes immediately latched onto her finger, but the ring was not there. A mere second before a panic attack, she looked at the bedside table, where both the box and the ring rested. She let out a breath. She didn’t lose it. 

“Morning cupcake,” a voice startled her. “Are you okay?” Her father was looking through the repealed doors. 

“Yeah… Did yesterday really happen?”

“We are still at Wayne Manor and I seem to remember to have put the ring on the night table.” 

“I can’t believe he actually proposed!” Marinette jumped off the bed and started to pace around with a dreamy look on her face. “I mean I know we are married, but it was still so romantic! And in front of so many people! Oh, Papa! I’m so happy!” She fell back onto her bed. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, cupcake. Remember that your Maman and I will always be here for you.” His smile took a sadder shade. “I know you’re almost a grown-up with a job and all, but to us you will always be the same little girl that I used to fit in the palm of my hand.” 

“Don’t worry Papa. I won’t forget you and Maman.”

“Good. Now let’s go open the presents! Race you!” He ran out of her room and toward the big tree in the hall. Mari giggled at her father’s antics before following him; the ring shining on her finger. 

In the back, Tikki floated with a big smile on her face. Her chosen finally had a chance for some happiness. If only that ruddy alley cat did not run away with the miraculous. She could still feel Nooroo and Duusu active. She could wait one more day before telling Marinette though. The girl deserved a peaceful Christmas.

---------

By the time Marinette arrived by the tree, most of the people were already gathered. Dick was seated in a large armchair next to a pile of gifts. He was dressed in a full Santa Claus outfit, complete with a fake beard. The only reason she recognized him was because of his voice.

“Now that everyone’s here, who wants…” He started, but someone interrupted. 

“Before that, I need to apologize.” Johnathan Kent turned toward Marinette. “Yesterday, after you left, I made some unsavory accusations about you, for which I want to deeply apologize.” Just for a second, his eyes jumped toward Sabine. The girl noted that her mother was glaring at the older man. “I’m a simple man and this… secret world you all live in is strange for me. Please, accept my sincere apology.” 

“Oh… No problem Mr. Kent. To be honest I’m still getting used to it all myself.” She smiled at him. Marinette was not that oblivious not to guess what kind of accusations the older man had made. 

“With that out of the way, I think we can get started. Maybe let’s begin with the youngest?” Dick said, trying to imitate how the real Santa Claus would sound. Marinette would admit that he was close.

“Me! Me!” Mar’i started floating in the air until Jon pulled her gently to the ground. He really got into the ‘older brother’ role. 

“Yes, you, sweetheart.” 

Mar’i received several gifts from the pile. Marinette was surprised to see one from her family. Inside were several baked goods from their bakery. She didn’t remember her parents packing any, but maybe they made them here.

“Me next!” Jon was giddy. His pile of gifts was slightly smaller, but there was a box of sweets there too. 

After that, it was Marinette’s turn. She received probably even more than Mar’i. There were also gifts from her Nona, grandfather, uncle Wang, one without a name tag that she was pretty sure came from aunt Sandra, a giant box from Chloe, and a small one that she had no idea who sent her. It was wrapped with a paper with black cats that would look better somewhere around Halloween, but she was too distracted to question it. Damian was busy arguing with Jon about whether he would get the Kryptonite knuckle dusters or not. 

She started with the largest box that Chloé sent her. Inside, there was a giant chest filled to the brim with detective novels and a letter that she chose to read when she was alone. Next was the gift from her uncle, which turned out to be an intricately decorated stone bowl for mixing ingredients. 

Her grandfather got her a beautiful rolling pin made half from cherry wood and half from solidified resin. The resin was in dark green color that reminded her of Damian’s eyes. But Roland had no idea about that, did he…?

Many gifts were some nice fabrics, a gift card to Gabriel, which she was tempted to burn as soon as she got it, but out of politeness just put it back into the box for now. Finally, the gift from aunt Sandra contained a set of beautiful daggers, a Katana, and a hairpin that had a space to pour poison inside. 

Her parents gave her a new rope dart, this time with a sharp end that she could use in combat. The line it was attached to was made from titanium-carbon alloy that would be able to withstand point-pressure of at least two tonnes. The weapon itself was practical instead of good-looking. The blade was thick, looking a bit like a diamond. The edges were sharp and the tip very pointy. The grip of the weapon was wrapped in a red cord for a more comfortable grip. Mari thanked them both before pocketing the weapon into her bag for now. She would probably fashion a better place for it.

Finally, only one box remained. The mysterious cats. Mari was about to open it when Jon noted it and leaped at her. The bow came undone the moment he covered the small box with his body. Everyone waited, watching carefully what was going on.

Nothing happened.

“Tt. Kent? Mind explaining to us why you decided to smash my Angel’s gift?” Damian glared at him.

“Um… I might have accidentally scanned it. You don’t want to see what’s inside. I definitely don’t want to see what’s inside ever again,” he shuddered. 

“Show me,” Sabine demanded. She picked up the squashed box and opened the top before closing it. A small lighter made its way into her hand and before anyone knew better, it was aflame. Seeing people staring at her, she smiled. “Nothing to worry about. It was a terrible prank.” She wrapped the now-charred remains and some vaguely straight shape into the torn paper. 

“What was this Maman?”

“A very distasteful prank.”

Marinette looked at the shape in her mother’s hand and her blood suddenly ran cold. It was shaped like a knife. The knife.

“No… He knows?! He can’t know!” She panicked, but Damian quickly pulled her closer to him, immediately soothing her some. 

“No, Sweetie. That bastard thought he would appease you by offering a painting of a stabbed Ladybug.” Sabine’s expression was heralding God’s wrath.

Jason growled. “He is sick.”

Next to him, Tim muttered so that only Stephanie could hear him. “You gave B. a crowbar on your first Christmas back…” Superman heard it too, judging from his reaction. 

“So what now?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we won’t be coming back beyond ‘appearing’ at the airport when your class is scheduled to leave. I still can’t believe how incompetent your teacher must be to force you to travel with them.”

“I know it might sound stupid, but I think you will be safest in Gotham City.” Lois offered. 

Mari nodded sharply before cuddling into Damian. “Don’t worry, Angel. I will protect you.” He reassured her while hugging her close to his heart.

“I can protect myself.” She huffed but didn’t reject his hug. 

“That I don’t doubt.”

“There is a good chance he won’t be able to reach you in Gotham anyway. He is just one kid, which will make crossing the border much harder for him.” Stephanie pointed. 

“He has his daddy’s money. That will probably be enough.”

“Let’s hope not. I will send the warning to the border control that he might be trying to enter the country, but that’s the best I can do.” 

“Meanwhile I will go check if my guns are working…” Jason tried to leave, only for Tim to grab the back of his jacket and pull him back into place.

“There is no point worrying for now. Let’s just enjoy Christmas.” Sabine nodded for everyone to return to gifts. When no one was looking at her, she pulled Jon to the side and placed the knife paper on the stone floor. They didn’t speak, not to start another drama, but the boy understood. A short heat-vision later the knife was no more than a piece of smoking paper and molten steel.

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

A blonde boy walked toward the terminal. He was dressed in a light gray long-sleeved dress shirt underneath a dark gray vest. He also sported a black necktie, dark gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. His hair was combed back, adding to the impeccable look. The green eyes swept over the guards as they observed him closely. He presented the passport.

He noted that it took them longer than it should. His eyes fell on the wanted poster next to the guards. 

“I’m not my idiotic cousin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah… Um…” The guard that was speaking to him was clearly confused. 

“Really? Ugh! That idiot decided to play supervillain and suddenly I have to suffer for it! I am not Adrien Agreste.” He ruffled through his bag, not caring that several guards almost drew their weapons. He finally pulled out a magazine with him and Adrien standing side by side, modeling for Gabriel. When side by side, the difference in their styles was even more pronounced.

“Apologies, mister. You must understand thought…” The man started to back-track.

“Yeah yeah. Spare the prostrating.” He dismissed the guard and walked past the checkpoint. Once he was out of the hearing range, he grinned. “It’s not you that I want to see on the floor…” He whispered omniously. 

-----------

Marinette and Sabine arrived through a portal five minutes from the airport, with ten minutes to spare before class was scheduled to meet. The two did not carry any luggage so they would get past the customs much faster. An upside to having all your things brought through a magical portal the day before. 

The airport was buzzing with activity. Marinette and her mother quickly got past the checkpoint and met with Chloé, who awaited them eagerly. 

“Dupain-Cheng! How was Christmas with the Waynes?” She asked in a hushed voice, so the class didn’t hear her. 

“Well…” Mari grinned before showing the blonde her ring.

“What? Now that’s what I call a good Christmas gift.” 

“How did you like the belt?” Marinette asked. In response, Chloé showed her that she was already wearing it. It was white with some golden glitter around the elegant buckle. There was a barely visible MDC logo etched on the buckle. The designer worked on it for some time before repurposing it as a Christmas gift. She had to cut on the glitter decorations, but in the end, the more minimalistic design appealed to Chloé. 

Sabine watched the two girls talk. A year ago, the woman wouldn’t believe her eyes if Marinette and Chloé acted this friendly. Now though, they were cute. 

“Did you get my gift?” The blonde asked impatiently.

“Um… Yes. The books are great.” 

“What was under the books!” The girl whispered, hoping to avoid Sabine’s watchful eye and ear.

“What?” Marinette looked surprised and Chloé had to resist the urge to facepalm. 

“Honestly Dupain-Cheng! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

And then the mood was broken when the rest of the class found them. 

“Good morning Marinette.” Madame Bustier greeted the girl. “Sabine.” 

The older woman did not return the greeting. “It’s Madame Cheng. We are here in the role of chaperones.” She almost seethes. “Let’s keep at least the illusion of professionalism.”

“Um… right. Moving on kids!” The slightly embarrassed teacher declared. 

“She is just as bad as Maribrat,” Alya muttered to Lila when she thought Sabine couldn’t hear her. The glare she received in response made it clear she made a mistake in her judgment.

After they got to the plane, people started to whisper when Chloé and Marinette didn’t join them in the economy class where they had their tickets. Instead, the two left for the first class. 

“Why aren’t they joining us!?”

“Because Chloé’s father paid for hers and I can afford mine.” Marinette normally would be against such blatant flaunting of wealth, but she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing it a bit into them that she earned the luxury. 

“She probably…” Kim suddenly lost his ability to speak when he was met eye-to-eye with Sabine Cheng. 

“Think carefully about what you want to say next.” 

He could almost see the flames of hell burning brightly behind her. “Um… she probably earned it?”

“Good boy.” 

“While I agree that Marinette earned it,” Caline started speaking and Sabine, Chloé, and the girl in question all had to resist the urge to groan, sensing there was more to that sentence. “I think it would be preferable if the girls joined the class for the duration of the flight. It would serve to strengthen the bonds between kids.” 

“And how exactly do you plan on fitting them when all the places in this place are bought out. Not to mention the price difference. Or maybe you thought money was not a problem?” Sabine asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm. 

Before Caline could answer, Lila decided to open her mouth. “Maybe Madame Bustier and you, madame could switch places with them. We know how hard our teacher worked and a bit of relaxation and comfort would do her good. You too could probably relax a bit from all the hard work in that Bakery.” 

Immediately after that, everyone started to agree and try to convince the chaperones to leave them alone. Sabine was about to protest when Caline spoke up. “Well, I think it would be acceptable, provided the girls agree.” She sent both a glare. 

Sabine’s blood boiled. She wasn’t sure if any normal girl would actually have the strength to stand up to a teacher in that position. Only the fact that Marinette looked completely unbothered stopped her from reacting. 

“Of course they won’t agree! They are too selfish!” Alya shouted. 

Some of the people on the plane started to stare at the group, with many gazes falling on Marinette and Chloé. 

The blonde scoffed, but her best friend grinned. “Sure.” She pulled her ticket and handed her to the teacher. “But we’re blocking the flight, so let’s move.”

Chloé handed hers to Sabine, smiling politely at the woman. “Marinette suspected this would end like that.” She whispered before taking a seat next to Dupain-Cheng. Both girls pulled out old-fashioned dictaphones and started recording what was going on with the class. Then Chloé gave Mari one of her detective novels and they started reading. 

Sabine shook her head. Her little girl had a plan and she would trust her. And after seeing Lila in action, she now had some idea how that liar worked. The way she manipulated people’s opinion reminded her in some ways of the assassin training she underwent. 

-----

The plane was already half-way to Gotham. Sabine did her best to ignore Caliné’s rambling about Marinette, switching between praising her and making her into the heart of all the problems with the class. If she didn’t know better, Sabine would think that the teacher had some sort of mental disorder. Beyond simple stupidity that is. 

Out of the blue, Caliné stopped rambling and Sabine saw her asleep, snoring lightly. 

“A strong sedative. It should give us at least an hour of peace.” A calm voice spoke from behind her. 

“Sandra.” Sabine greeted her sister politely, but without the usual cheerfulness. “Clever of you to choose here of all places to meet me. Don’t think that it will let you escape my wrath. You left that girl on the mercy of a monster.” 

“Cassandra was… I did regret what I did, but I couldn’t risk trying to reclaim her. Not until I was sure she could defend herself.” Sandra said, allowing emotions to enter her voice. Sabine could tell she was genuinely saddened by the situation. 

“You could’ve brought her to me. I would raise her along Marinette without a second thought. And you know that nobody would dare to come after me.” The older turned in her seat to glare at her sister. Two men at her side were both also sleeping, each with a small wound on their neck. They had complete privacy. 

“I… I’m sorry. By the time I managed to find her again, I… I was ashamed. I admit that it pained me to see what Cain did to her. But I couldn’t…”

“We will talk about it when I can scream at you properly.” Sabine cut her off. “For now I want to know what is so important you decided to show up personally, risking my wrath.”

“The boy has allies.” 

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but they are influential enough to shield him from many of my contacts.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you tried. As opposed to with your daughter.”

“I deserve it…” Sandra lowered her head. 

“Yes, you do.” Sabine huffed. 

“If I find the kid…” 

“He sent Mari the knife he stabbed Ladybug with. I have no idea how he got his sticky hands on it…” 

“You still have the bag, right?”

“Already waiting for me in Gotham.”

“I will try digging some more, but I’m getting blocked at each turn.”

“Meanwhile I will keep both our girls safe.”

“I got the picture of Talia by the way.” Lady Shiva allowed a smile to ghost her face. “I carry it framed and put it by my bed. She got a few copies too.” 

“Good. That might remind her not to trifle with us.” The sisters shared a laugh, but Sabine was still angry and it showed. She would give her sister a piece of her mind when the time came. 

-----------

A figure stood cloaked in shadows. The small screen showed a series of images. 

“Poison Ivy; Bane; Penguin; Riddler; Mr. Freeze; Two-Face; Scarecrow; Clayface; Falcone; Harley Quinn; Killer Croc; Joker…” 

“The previous Hawkmoth was a fool.” Another figure spoke from the shadows. Their voice was neither feminine nor masculine. “He stuck to a moral high ground, giving powers to untrained kids. Then again, he was fighting kids.” 

A small, butterfly-like creature floated in the air. “But that is precisely what the Butterfly Miraculous is supposed to do! Its powers will work best with the common people.” 

“Interesting.” The main figure grinned. “So my father wasn’t such a fool after all.” He laughed when another image appeared on the screen. “And I see that my trap is already working.”

Duusuu had to hide from fear. This was not the kind boy they knew. What could’ve happened to Chat Noir, the great kind Chat Noir that made him into… this.

-------

Masterlist // Next

[loudlypanickinginvenezolano]

Animalistic.

Trigger warning for this chapter? Yes. I talk about dead animals, and got into some detail. So, be warned you all.

Shadow centric. Sorry not sorry. 

CHAPTER NUMBER 1.  also in AO3

If the alarmed squeal that had left his mouth had not been embarrassing enough, the sound he made when he fell right on his bottom, and hurt a bit his tail, definitely signed his name in the waiting list for a hole to appear and swallow him.

Right.

After making sure that no one had witnessed his embarrassing fall… besides the chirping ravens, that is… he allowed a sigh to make its appearance, rubbing a hand on his heaving chest.

Now he knew things WERE alarmingly weird, and not just him being a paranoid idiot, as his mind has been trying to reassure him. When he first had stepped into the forest he had noticed a particular lack of sound, of— of everything.

Don’t get him wrong, this was no normal forest, more akin to the very own of Angel Island, and the fauna was ever shifting, however, it wasn’t common for there to be such a lack of birds or rabbits or foxes or anything running around. There were moments, yes, but this one… It did not sat right with him.

His gloved hands grazed the thick and old trunk of the trees as he walked, branches and fallen leaves creaking loudly under his boots.

If he went out of his way just to step in those that looked extra crunchy, there was no one to say. Mostly, because there was no real “way” he was following. At this point, it was more wandering that other thing, leaving his paws take him to wherever they wanted, wondering quietly to himself what he may found today, what may have changed since yesterday...

That was, though, until his gaze fell in the scurrying fox not so far away.

Coming closer, he noticed and could hear clearly the chittering and snickering of three foxes. He stared for a while, deciding that, yes, he knew these foxes, and that yes, they were acting more nervous than usual. And that was saying something.

They jumped away once they noticed his presence, darting in different directions, leaving him only blinking in astonishment, as this was the first time they had reacted so fiercely to his presence. It was also with a pang that he realized that they almost seemed scared.

They had… never been scared of him like that.

Before he could ponder too long about it, a known black flashed on his peripheral vision and a grin made its way into his face. He sprinted towards it, leaping over fallen branches, rocks, and trees, scurrying under the thick foliage and water-filled lianas, sometimes squashing under his paws fallen fruits and some mushrooms he did not care to dodge. It was fun, not running because he needed to, or because he was racing someone. It was… a normal mobian that is just kidding around kind of run.

It was amazing.

Just as he thought he was going to succeed in catching the bird, they turned into another corner and… well.

He fell thanks to a dip he hadn’t noticed…Right in front of a sleeping bear.

A big, big growling bear.

It took him a moment to calm his lizard brain, realizing that, no, he wasn’t in danger, and that it was a half dead bear, not a sleeping or resting one as he had initially believed.

…On second thought, just-a-quarter-alive bear?

It was kind of pitiful to see, and once again he felt his breath leave him completely once the picture completely dawned on him.

Shadow blinked in direction of his winged friend, even though there was nothing to gain by it. It was not like he could ask what had happened, or why he was leaded here, if he was leaded at all or was just coincidence…

The raven was practically crooning at him, shaking his tail feathers and hopping into his spot.

Cute, indeed, but it didn’t answer any of his questions. He felt like glaring in frustration at his unhelpful company, and being honest, he almost did, however, the groan the bear make shifted his focus into the more pressing matter at hand.

Really, how was the thing still alive? It certainly had…a number…done on it. The blood pooled around it, and he was sure half it face was missing. Though, it most likely was because of the ravens it was still trying to spook.

Or maybe the culprit was a monkey? He was sure he had seen a few 4 days ago, but even so, if they were still here or not was a complete wild card.

Shadow stood, albeit hesitantly, telling himself like a mantra that just because he didn’t feel safe next to bears it meant he was going to die or suddenly get hurt just because he got close to a very clearly dying one. He had fought in an alien invasion, for fucks sake! How come he still feared this dumb things?

It really didn’t help his uneasiness, nor settled his knotted stomach, but his step did not waver once, and his fingers never shook, so he was counting this as a success.

His eyes widened as he fully took in the state of the bear. He could not tell wherever it was a male or a female, and the still pawing limbs of the bear were most likely not going to let him check. He didn’t think it mattered that much, but it could be nice to know.

The bit marks though. His eyes always found the way to them, not matter how much he was trying to check for other injuries. They were nothing like something he had ever seen before. On the actual animal kingdom, at least.

It wasn’t a wolf or any other territorial bear attack as he had thought at first. It was most likely a new animal, or well, creature, that had found its way into his forest. It wasn’t uncommon.

That didn’t make the view of its teeth and claws marks any easier to see. Whatever it was, it was big, a predator, and vicious. The maw was…all wrong, and claws this size and this thick… the markings all around the place, as well! It got dragged, but to what purpose? From where? Scare others predators?

“Oh, thingy.” He mumbled, reaching up to plant his hand on the strong back of the beast. He didn’t think it appreciated his try at comfort, and to be honest, Shadow himself wasn’t sure HE would have liked it either. It was all he could think of, though, so they would have to endure. “I am…sure you did your best.” He could see the guts of the bear from his kneeling position, and there was no point in trying to heal the neck. It was beyond destroyed. It… they were huffing, dark eyes glossed over and flickering to everywhere.

Dark eye?

Shadow noticed a lost ear, and that the jagged cut along their hindquarters showed bones. Broken, most likely, judging by the looks.

“Hey, gumdrops, would you be so kind in stop picking at it? Thank you” He reprimanded at the disrespectful raven, blowing at him so he would fly away. His ruby eyes went back to the bear face, and stroke it with sadness even in his fear. Their claws were prickly, but didn’t hurt as much as what he knew he needed to do. “I don’t have something to say, but… I do wonder why you ended like this…I’m sorry, I guess…”

He forced himself to stare at the beast eye, as he ended everything in the quickest and painless way he could muster at the moment.

Trying to heal them would prove futile, and even if he did succeed in making them survive the day, the pain they were in, plus the blood lost, the broken bones, the neck, and face injuries… making it survive and live what most likely wasn’t going to be a happy existence, if they made it for longer than a week…

Shadow couldn’t make it. He knew he was usually seen as someone cold or, whatever the fuck Amy had accused him of being last time, but this was… cruelty beyond everything he could think of. Stopping their pain was a mercy. What the fuck, it was the only option he had!

He wondered for how long have they been like this.

He wondered what could have hurt the bear like this, just to leave them, barely nibbled on and broken beyond repair to rot…

He discarded his gloves and racked his fingers over the fur, seeing the cuts and old scars that littered the skin. He also checked the face, noting the lost teeth and bloodied gums. The maw hanged loose in an unnatural way, and he found a very strange thing inside its mouth, piercing the tongue and palate.

It was a spine. A short one, but sharp and strong, a dark blue that became white by its end.

He had stashed it into his leather strap thigh bag, where he had also kept his gloves, untrusting the ravens and others beast of the forest that he may not see, but knew where watching or running everywhere, and deciding that, no, the guts were in that state by blunt force or maybe stepping in, but not by ravens or any other animal when he heard something… strange, to say.

By this moment, the sun was shining brightly and strongly over the ground of the forest he had made home in, unlike earlier when he first stepped in, and the light could barely made it through the thick fog. It was a change he welcomed happily, as it made it easier to walk the terrain. Following the noises, and having a clearer view, it didn’t take him even 5 minutes to found 3 young bear cubs, trying to scare away a menacing wild cat.

Shadow stomach plummeted down.

So that was why…

[lowkeyhockey]

cat and mouse (for a month or two or three) - freddie andersen

Pairing: Freddie Andersen/Single Mother!Reader

Mentions: Mitch Marner, Nazem Kadri

Warnings: Curse words, slight sexual innuendo, two POVs

Word Count: 6.5k

Credits: @hockey-reblogs beta’d this for me, and like. thank g od IDEK what i did to deserve her help and support <3

 Summary: Someone can’t wait to get on the ice, someone wants to meet up off the ice, and someone has an unexpectedly intense reaction to coffee. OR: a story of how you two met. 

 Writer’s Note: This is a standalone fic that’s a part of a bigger verse titled Can I Go (Where You Go) featuring [Y/N], a not-very single mother, Lila, your very opinionated daughter, and Freddie Andersen - a man very happy to be invited along for the ride. 

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

The first thing you notice upon arriving at the Mastercard Centre, your new training facility for the next five seasons (if your contract has anything to say about it) is the noise. The words sound about the same, shouts about cellys and sick dangles and benders and dusters, all the words North American players like to throw around to make it sound like they're from a generation older and greater than they are, but the pitch is - different. 

 A lot higher, for once, the voices a lot softer, and you're frowning even before you turn the corner to the Leafs' locker room. Mitch Marner and Nazem Kadri are standing near the doorway, Naz grinning in a way that you know from watching game tape means he's probably going to lay a hit on someone, and Marner looking - well - scared, but they're not looking that way at each other. 

Which, is probably good. Mitch is as new to the Leafs as you are, which means you'd probably have to take his side against Naz, and you've seen Naz's hits. Game tape. It's weird to think of them as teammates now, with how you've memorized the slightest shifts in their stances to figure out split-seconds before the recoil of their stick exactly where the puck is going to go, but you're good at dealing with weird. 

 Dishing it out, taking it. Part of hockey, and part of being a goalie. You're not good at, however - you're not used to - dealing with the sight that had apparently frozen Naz and Marner into caricatures of themselves. 

 About thirty girls, give or take, all of them minors, in green tartan skirts and hockey skates and green and white sweaters. You wonder if the Leafs are taking another PC shift on the ice crew, though the girls aren't even in Leafs colours. But then you see that half the girls are holding hockey sticks, and suddenly you're feeling just as worried - worried, not scared - as Marner's obviously feeling scared. 

You can't blame him, though. Kid looks about twelve, looks like a couple of the bigger girls could beat him up without breaking a sweat. He's probably worried about his voice cracking in front of them or something. 

 It's Naz who sees you first, shit-eating grin in full effect as he calls you over, but his voice is drowned out halfway through "Yo Andy, get over-" (which, thank you, but no) as a girl shouts, "motherfucker, get on the ice and I'll show you roughing." 

 And then you change your mind. 

 Naz cracks up laughing at the threat and you match Marner's smile, but a woman is there in the next heartbeat - this one, thankfully not in uniform, though you wouldn't mind seeing what she could do to a schoolgirl skirt - pinching the girl's nose in a way that you're almost certain isn't part of the school's disciplinary code. 

Or maybe it was. California didn't have corporal punishment, and it didn't have school uniforms either, and judging by the way you were looking at the woman - the teacher? - up and down and trying to picture her in pumps and tiny skirt and blazer, with maybe a green ribbon in her hair, it was probably for the best. 

The girl doesn't look like she's in pain or anything, so you wander over to the boys, trying to not make any sudden movements just in case the girls could smell fresh blood. "School trip, we're teaching them the ropes," Marner says to you before you could ask, and Naz's expression turns a little wry, his smile a little dry as he adds. "Private school girls, so make sure none of them breaks another nail or we could be looking at a lawsuit." 

*****

 You'd been helping one of the younger girls with her skates when you'd glanced up and saw Freddie Andersen - the Great Dane, the Ginga Ninja, the new goalie for the Leafs - approaching through a break in the cloud of girls, and you bite back a grin that was - okay, maybe a little mean. 

 But his furrowed brow-stoicism was an expression you knew well, from the faces of men who just didn't know what to do with a small army of girls - which, good. You girls can handle your own, which is a weird thought to have when you're on your knees in front of an apprehensive-looking sixth grader, but all the other girls had gotten each other laced up and strapped into protective gear and you wonder whether it was actually necessary for the headmistress to insist that the Leafs drop in to "show you the ropes", as it were. 

 It was a school in Canada, after all, and in Toronto to boot, where hockey wasn't so much a pastime as it was a minor religion. An open, accepting religion - you could be both practicing Christian, or Muslim or whatever and a Leafs fan. There was a reason why games aren't scheduled for the same time as Sunday Mass, or Friday prayers. 

 God and the NHL both knew which one people would rather attend. 

 But Branksome Hall's new to allowing hockey to be played and not just watched at the school, and having been a hockey fan for most of your life (not to mention a young and new teacher, which made you an easy target for assignments such as these) you were an obvious pick to get girls into the sport. 

 You probably won't have a school team this season, but it's always nice to get girls on the ice, and your girls could always use an outlet for their excess energy (not to mention aggression). 

 Brianna's all talk and you tell her that, giving a last, gentle tug on her nose before she pushes you away, laughing, and you turn to the boys just in time to hear the tail end of Nazem Kadri's words. 

 Which, ouch. But not at all wrong, and it's your turn to laugh, though Madame Mercier - who's just as suddenly by your side - is looking considerably less amused. 

 "Branksome Hall takes the health and safety of our girls very seriously," she says, her French accent - French, and not Quebecois, she'd remind anyone with a faux-haughty look on her face and a twinkle in her eyes - thicker than it usually is, and you jump in to alleviate the tension before the boys could apologize - or very pointedly not apologize. 

 "We do, but we also understand how dangerous skating and hockey can be, and the girls and their legal guardians have all signed the disclaimers we've passed along to your organization," you say with a smile - not the practiced one you hold in reserve for overbearing parents, because god only knew what you'd do if you ever ran out of those - but something easy and warm. 

 You'd been an athlete yourself, when you were in school, and you hadn't gone to a school like Branksome Hall, where the Board of Governors could up and decide to introduce a new sport to the school and then have the pull to have some of the best athletes in the sport go and teach it to the girls themselves. Never mind that it's still off-season, and that the boys would probably rather be in board shorts than hockey gear. 

 You're just you, a little messy, a little too casual, you have nothing of Madame Mercier's dignified grace as you offer your hand out to the newcomer. Frederik Andersen, who's all ginger scruff in the early light of day, brown eyes looking a little wary even as he takes your hand. 

 His hand's large, because of course it is, and a little rough, because of course it is, and you feel an impulse to sandwich it between your own for a full study. But a smaller hand covers the back of it before you could embarrass yourself, yanking both your hands down - 

 and you look further down to see Lila coming out from behind Mitch Marner's legs, all toothy grin despite the fact that she was clearly feeling ignored, and you laugh again. "Sorry about that," you quickly say, dropping the goaltender's hand and dropping to your knees to scoop up your little girl. 

 Mitch, sweet boy that he is, reaches out to tickle her sides, and you suppose you're thankful that he's learned his lesson about having his hands too close to her teeth. 

 "I'm [Y/N L/N], and this is my daughter, Lila." Lila frees one of the arms you'd pinned to her sides in an attempt to stop her from squirming out of your arms to give the man a wave, looking almost shy, and Freddie in turn - surprise fading into something that almost looks like shyness, too - reaches out to pat her head, as though copying his teammate. 

 God, if you were just unlucky enough the boys might come to see Lila as some kind of lucky charm to be fussed over or petted, like a team mascot in tiny human form. It seemed a little far fetched, but you know hockey players and how superstitious they could be, and you turn around to pass Lila off to your nanny before any of your dire predictions could come into fruition. 

 When you turn back around, Freddie's hand is still hovering in midair, and you can't help but raise an eyebrow at him, watching a flush slowly spread across his cheekbones as though in slow motion. He looks so dumb, looks something like a piece of art. You'd title it: hockey player vs social situations or something like that. 

 You squash the urge to paint him. 

 "Frederik Andersen, right?" you ask, because he hasn't introduced himself, and smile encouragingly when he nods, feeling like you were talking to one of your younger girls. 

 "Call me Freddie," he says, and you grin, turning to include the other boys in it. 

 "Freddie, Mitch, and Naz," you say as though to check their names, though of course you know them all. "Thank you guys so much for coming, I'm sure all the girls are going to love this. Now, are you guys ready to meet the next group of miracles on ice?" 

A little kitschy, a little corny, but Mitch is grinning back at you, and Naz is looking amused, though you suspect that with the latter that's pretty much his default expression. Freddie's not looking at you, though, and you follow his gaze to the near-empty corridor, wondering if he's looking for an escape route - but no, he's watching Emilie and Lila. 

And you feel - jealous? Emilie's very pretty, and she's so good with Lila, and you were only expecting two hockey players with you today and not three and - Frederik Andersen could do whatever he wants, really, it's nothing to do with you. 

Naz gives you a light punch on the arm, like you're a part of the team, though you're just a teacher for the group of girls he's been made to babysit. "Lets get at it, coach," he says, as he follows Mitch to the entrance of the rink, and you give Lila a small wave before following suit

Madame Mercier doesn't even own skates and she's not about to start trying it at fifty-two, and Freddie Andersen - you realise, then, that he hadn't even been wearing skates. He was still in his coat, for god's sake - he was taller than you even though you're in skates so you hadn't noticed. 

But then the girls are calling for you, tapping their sticks against the ice where they all stand in a loose circle on center ice, and you and Mitch and Nazem hurry up to join them. 

*****

 "Freddie," you repeat to the little girl, all brown, windswept curls and a grin that takes up about half of her face, and her hazel eyes look like they understand but all she does is blow a raspberry at you. And then giggle, like it's the funniest thing in the world, and maybe it is, because her nanny laughs too. 

 Emilie, she'd said her name was, in the same accent that the strict-looking teacher had.  The one that wasn't [Y/N]. You didn't even realise that you hadn't asked her name, and now she's ignoring the three of you, leaning against the glass like she's worried one of her girls might actually break another nail. 

"She's only three, Mr. Andersen," Emilie says to you, and that Lila decides to repeat, the lisped "three!" sounding jubilant in her voice. Emilie smiles down at her, expression so fond, and you can see why. "She has one month before she turns three," Emilie corrects herself, as though the one month makes a difference, and you nod a little dumbly because maybe it does. 

"She looks a little older," you say, though she doesn't. "She looks smart." And she does. There’s something assessing in her gaze, more curiosity than shyness or fear.

You've always liked kids, but they've always looked a little fragile, especially compared to you. And the kids you usually meet are excitable boys either starting out in or already playing hockey, eager to show the world that they have what it takes. 

And Lila's just staring at you with her large hazel eyes, squirming for a moment before she suddenly flops back, body going limp all over until her nanny relents and sets her down on the floor. Her little shoes squeak with each step, and you both watch her as she makes her way - just as determined as any young boy you've ever met - to the rink entrance. 

"Too smart," Emilie says with a smile, and you grin as Lila drops to the ground in a deliberate collapse, patting both of her hands against the ice. It looks like she doesn't want to walk in - she's ready to crawl in instead, but Emilie is on her in the next heartbeat, scooping her up and pressing kisses against her little face. 

"No, silly, your maman said to stay here," she tells Lila. 

 You take the chance to step in then and say, "I can take her in, she'll be safe with me," but the look Emilie shoots you is arch, a little too knowing, and you feel heat rise on your cheeks again. 

"If her maman wanted the little one on the ice she'd take her herself, non?" But her grin turns friendly again as she tilts her head to the ice, before swinging around so that Lila isn't pushing out of her arms to take matters into her own tiny hands. "Now go, before her maman wonders why I'm keeping you."

And you're fairly certain that this isn't in your schedule, that no one's expecting you to stay, but you already have your gear and skates in your bag and you wanted to get some solo training in before training camp, anyway, so. 

 You go. 

 *****

 He's easy on his feet, you realise with a pang. Quiet. You hadn't even realised that he was standing right behind you until Wei Yan slammed into his side, not hard enough to make him stumble, but enough to catch your attention, making you turn around with a slight frown. 

 She's not at all apologetic about it, grinning as she says, "inertia" as though that alone's an explanation, even though it isn't. Freddie's looking down at her like he doesn't quite know what to do with a fifteen year old girl suddenly attached to his side and spouting Newtonian principles at him, which, fair. 

 The girls love to show off what they'd learned in class - little teachers' pets, all of them, and you could relate - and usually, it makes you smile. It means you've done a good job. Nut somehow inertia is always the first thing they remember, probably because it allows them to do things like this, and you can't have them breaking the new Leafs goalie before he's even broken in yet. God knows the Leafs need a good man in the crease. 

"Goon," you shoot back at her, waving your hands like you're shooing off some stray chickens. And you might as well be - wherever Wei Yan led, the rest of the girls usually followed, and soon there'd be no one doing the skating drill you had set up. 

Mitch was in the far end of the rink, coaching most of the girls through puck-handling drills, and Naz is on center ice dropping face off puck after face off puck while girls battled for dominance. You could see his grin from here, delighting in the role he's getting to play in the chaos. 

 When Wei Yan doesn't move, leaning against Freddie's side and giving him a narrow eyed look that he seems intent on returning in full measure, you skate over to them to give her a gentle nudge. "Shoo, you know how hockey players feel about a hit on their goalie," you tell her, and she turns to face you, grin unnervingly like Kadri's.

 "There's no D-men on the ice," she points out, sly, and it takes Freddie by surprise - the laugh he lets out is over-loud, and it looks like the sun had broken out just over his face. 

 You're soon giggling too, more from the sound of his laughter than anything else, and Wei Yan skates away looking smug. 

 Silence stretches after that but it's not awkward, not really, the two of you watching as Wei Yan lands another hit - this time against Marie, who's a full head shorter than her and maybe fifteen pounds lighter, but she's so gentle about it that you can't help beaming. 

 They're good girls, and you're so proud of them, and you're so happy that the school's letting them have this outlet. 

 Freddie's apparently thinking along the same lines because when he breaks the silence it's to ask, voice light but sounding just a hint too serious to be properly teasing, "you went to all the trouble of bringing Lila to the rink and won't even let her skate?" 

You turn to him with brows raised, more amused and curious than annoyed by the personal question, and he smiles a little at you, as though encouraged by your expression. "Seems a little mean, is all," he explains, and you laugh. 

"My dad's a diehard Leafs fan," you explain. "He'd never forgive me if I didn't bring her. But she's still a little too young for skates. " 

 There's a beat of silence, and it looks like he's studying you now, as though he's memorizing the planes of your face the way you'd tried to memorize his hand, and you're already blushing - your gaze sliding from his eyes to his lips - when he asks - 

"Would he forgive you if you said no to the Leafs' new goalie taking you out for coffee?" 

And the colour's exploding over your face in full force, now, you could feel even the back of your neck getting warm, it's like you've never been asked out before. And you might be a single mom but you're only twenty-six and still attractive, still in full possession of a sex drive, thank you very much, you're clever and you're articulate and you're athletic. 

You shouldn't be staring up at him looking like you'd just finished a 5k on the treadmill, mouth in a flat line, arms crossed across your chest. 

 He shouldn't be looking down at you, looking somewhere between confused and mortified, but god that was such a pro hockey player question - I have money, I have fame, I can hit a puck really, really hard, wanna come home with me?

And he'd just been talking about your daughter - Lila, of all people, who absolutely doesn't deserve to be around more hockey players. Once burned and all that. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Freddie finally bursts out, and you shake your head. 

"Of course you didn't, Mr. Andersen, I apologize if there's been any confusion," you say, and you know you're using your stern teacher voice, and now he's looking down at you like he doesn't know who you are. 

 Which, of course he doesn't. He doesn't know why you're so opposed to - well, if not hockey players, then hockey players pulling what he'd just tried to pull. 

And you would have let it drop at that but he's moving just a little closer, brows furrowed, looking contrite. "I didn't, I'm not trying to use my position to ask you out. I'm just - I was trying to be funny." 

 He looks half- in pain is the thing, and you believe him. You can certainly believe he's not the best at being funny. You relax a little, make a show of untensing, giving him a small smile and putting a hand on his arm. " It's fine, really. It's just that I'm working - and I have Lila." 

 Not that Lila's really an excuse, with the full-time nanny Sid hired and pays for. But Freddie doesn't need to know that. 

"Can I make it up to you?" he asks, and he still looks like you'd kicked a puppy, and he looks softer than you're prepared for. But when he continues, words tumbling over themselves in the rush to be said, "I can get you tickets for the opening game, you said your dad's a fan and you can bring Lila -" 

 you shake your head, laughing. "I said it's fine, and my dad has season tickets anyway." Honestly, you think it's the biggest family heirloom your family has to your name. 

 He looks like he believes you, he looks like he's relaxed somewhat, and he looks like he's not some pro-athlete dick so you even tease him with an "I'm sure I'll come and see you sooner or later, see if you're any good," 

 and if it sounds like flirting it's possibly because you are, just a little. 

 But he's smiling back at you, looking like you'd given - well, not a puppy, but maybe a dear friend - CPR, and you find yourself smiling back. 

 And become aware, in the next moment, that the girls closest to you have stopped doing their drills, and are looking at the two of you just smiling at each other like idiots with expressions that ranged from surprise to delight.  Which meant that Madame Mercier was probably watching, too, even if you both had your backs to her - which meant you had to disguise what you'd been talking about. 

 "But if you still want to make it up to me," you say to Freddie, voice low, not waiting for him to reply before you skated to the girls. "Line up, ladies, Mr. Andersen's going to get in goal for you. Make sure you show off a little, eh?" 

And the sound of his laughter from behind you, the quiet swish of his skates as he moves to set up between the posts, makes you smile. 

*****

 You go to all the pre-seasons game you have the time to attend with your dad, and once with Emilie, though the poor girl ended up with a headache from all the noise. You - you were in your element, in your old Sundin sweater that still hit you about mid-thigh, usually with blue lines painted under your eyes even though it was just the preseason. 

 After your first game, a young man with a Leafs intern lanyard comes over to your seat with a puck and a kids' jersey, and you're frowning just a little until he tells you that they're both from Marner. You ask the kid to give Marns your number, so you can thank him personally, and when he texts you later that night he tells you that he's just excited to have someone wearing his number in the coming season. 

He's just a sweet kid, and you thank him about ten more times, and you take it to mean that you're going to have to bring Lila in for a game sooner or later. You'd enjoyed watching Marns while he was with the Knights, and you're definitely looking forward to rooting for him on the Leafs - and Freddie, too.

But he doesn't look at you. Freddie, that is. 

 Not during warmups and definitely not during the games, you don't think he sees anything but the puck and there's something almost magical about that degree of hyper-focus. 

It's the night before opening night when he seems to remember that you exist - and it's Marns texting you, not Freddie, and at first you ignore it because Marns has taken to texting you memes you can barely understand, though the girls at your school giggle when you pass it on to them. You won't let him contact any of the girls directly - it would be unprofessional for you to give away any of your students' numbers, and none of them ask you for his - but he seems proud of being the girls' favourite coach. 

 (The girls still practice at the Mastercard Centre, and you're the one chaperoning them more often than not, but with the season coming underway the boys are no longer obligated to show up - the school's hired their own skating and puck-handling coaches, and even a goalie coach though Melanie's the only one interested in getting between the posts, and she far prefers when Freddie's the one to help her.) 

When you finally reach for your phone, deciding that a social media break's allowed after three straight hours of grading physics papers, you're surprised to see a closeup shot of Freddie in his goalie mask - eyes narrowed and staring at you through the grill and phone, like he sees exactly what you're doing and he doesn't approve. It's a little intimidating, more than a little hot. 

You wonder what Marns has done to piss him off - and why Marns decided to send it to you - but the text that pops up after you reply with a simple "???" just says - "he's wondering why u haven't brought lila yet." 

 Which, weird. Also, flattering. Also, weird. You hadn't even been aware that he's noticed that you're there at all.

 "so he can eat her?" you shoot back, grinning a little down at your phone, and marns replies in the next instant with 

"maybe" 

then: 

"rude tho"

then: 

"y don't u ask him urself"

You shoot back a "he didn't ask ME himself", even though it feels at this point like you're two kids passing notes in class, and you're judging yourself for it hard when your phone dings thrice with more text messages. 

From Marns:

"can u imagine freddie taking a selfie"

and then:

several barf emojis, and you don't know why, because Freddie has a pretty decent face 

and 

from an unknown number: 

"Why haven't you brought Lila to any games?"

When your phone dings again, a few seconds later, you see several frowning emojis from the same number, and you hate how you can picture exactly, in your mind's eye, the way Freddie could be frowning at you right then. 

 You save his number under "F.And, L", knowing how hockey players - at least the ones you know - value their privacy, and you wouldn't want his number to get leaked if you somehow lose your phone. Marns is just saved under a frog emoji, and he seemed inordinately pleased about that when you'd told him. 

"Too loud for her," you send back to Freddie, and before you could think twice about it, you send Marns several sweat droplets emojis. You are a teacher - if anyone asks, you could say that you had no idea what they meant, you just know that that's what the kids are texting nowadays.

"Marns is going to be disappointed," Freddie replies, and you're disappointed - despite yourself - because he didn't say that he would be disappointed. 

Another two dings, another two texts, and it's Freddie saying "We'll have to get her in for a practice," while Marns just fills your whole screen with more barfing emojis. 

You shoot them both the okay emoji, and then tell them that you need to get back to work. 

 When you check your phone again before bed, there's two text messages, both of them from Freddie. 

The first: "Good luck with your work, and sweet dreams" 

And then a picture of him, light spilling over him from a bedside lamp, duvet halfway up his bare chest. He looks a little tired, a little shy, but he's smiling up at the camera. 

 A selfie. You wonder what else Marner has told him. 

 And you save the picture.

 *****

 The boys win the first home game of the season, and you couldn't make it because Lila's down with a cold but you send Marns a selfie of you and Lila in Leafs jerseys in front of the TV - you wearing Sundin's number and grinning wide, Lila in Marner's and opening her mouth to show him a mouthful of chewed-up mashed potatoes. You figure it's not too different from a picture of unchewed mashed potatoes, and besides, you're just happy that she's eating. 

 Marns sends back a shot of him flashing a peace sign, flushed with good spirits and (you're pretty damned sure) alcohol he's barely old enough to be drinking, and the way he angles the camera makes you think he's trying to hide the fact that he's in a bar. 

 Which, dumb, but you pass along the congratulations the girls text you to send to him, and there's almost thirty of them, and by the time you're done Freddie's message to you has been waiting for several minutes, unopened. 

 "Thanks for the congratulations," it says, even though you didn't send him one, and you giggle as you lean back to reply. 

 "sorry! had to pass on messages from mitchy's fans first, and there's a lot of them." 

 Freddie: "Yeah? And who were you rooting for?" 

 "david pastrnak," you reply, grinning to yourself as you did it. 

and then before he has time to get into a sulk: "guy has to be a superhero to have gotten one past you" 

 He doesn't reply anyway, not for a good half hour, and you switch the tv to a golf tournament with the volume on low, because of course that's what Lila falls asleep to best. 

And then, from Freddie: "Guess that makes me your kyptonite." 

 Which, okay, he isn't wrong. 

 You're not sure how to reply - you guess this means that he's at least a little bit into you, and he knows you're at least a little bit into him, and - you're not sure how to reply. 

 "you're not wrong," you text him. And then, like a coward, but at least an honest one: "i need to go and tuck lila in. make sure you drink lots of water before bed x" 

 And he sends you a goodnight text, tells you to tell him if Lila's not feeling better in the morning, as though there's anything he can do about it anyway. 

When you wake up the next morning, there's a text from Marns sent at around three am that says, "YOOOOOO WAS TAT SMOOTH OR WHAT" 

Which, okay, he's not wrong. 

 *****

 The boys go through a losing streak like it's nobody's business. Which, is disappointing, but it's the Leafs, and Toronto's a city that's grown accustomed to it. After a home win against Florida that they barely managed by the skin of their teeth (which, it's Florida) Freddie's on your doorstep instead of celebrating at some bar or another, or maybe sleeping the adrenaline off. 

You raise your eyebrows at him, don't move aside to let him in even though you'd known he was the guy at the door when you'd looked through the peephole, and you'd gone and opened the door anyway. He looked rumpled, exhausted, hair a mess but not covered in product - like he'd gone for a shower after the game and then left, not even bothering to swing by his place to change out of his game day suit. 

 And you're in your Leafs jersey still, it's practically a dress on you so you didn't bother slipping any pants on, and the TV's still quietly going over game recaps.

You know this, the look on him, even though you've never seen him this way. He racks up a loss, takes it all on his own shoulders, won't let anyone take some of his burden or even see any of his pain. You've lived this, just not with him, and you're not in the mood for dealing with a moody hockey player. 

It's Lila's birthday tomorrow, and Marns' already said he would come, and he's asked if he could bring some of the boys with him, too. He hadn't mentioned Freddie, and neither had you - Freddie's been on radio silence since the loss against the Hawks, third in a streak that didn't seem like it was going to end. That had been five days ago, which

You're a big girl, you can take it. 

 But you don't particularly want to expose Lila to it. 

 "Look, I know I've been stupid," he starts, the creases in his brow deepening when he sees you're not going to start shit, but he falls silent when you shake you head. 

"Don't make a martyr of yourself, Freddie." It comes out sounding short, impatient, you're a little tired yourself and it's late. 

 And it hurts, just a little, him showing up here and now like you're some kind of fair weather-only friend. You're not even a fair weather fan, or you sure as shit wouldn't still have your Leafs jersey. 

He looks confused, though, raising one hand to rest against the frame of the door, and leans in, like proximity would help. That, or he's too tired to stand straight, which. Idiot. 

 "You lost, and you went and licked your wounds in private. It's fine." You pause, consider that, and decide to go for something a little more honest. "Or it's not fine, I missed you, but if that's what you need to do to get your head on right for your next game then I can live with it." 

 You're a big girl, you've survived worse things. 

 "I'm sorry," he says, and you smile, because - that's one you've never heard before. And you didn't think he'd understand, either, how you needed an apology and not a self-lashing from him, because the latter's designed to make you feel sorry for him more than anything else. 

 Which, you already do. Idiot. 

 You open the door wider, but instead of letting him in you step forward to wrap your arms around him, feeling him do the same to you - one across the back of your shoulders and one around your waist, warm, solid weights holding you in place for a long moment. 

 "I know you were worried about me, I shouldn't have put you through that, all I needed to do was pick up the phone." He pulls back, then, to look you in the eye, and your right hand slips higher to settle on the nape of his neck, to keep him there. 

 "Idiot," you tell him, but you're grinning, and in a moment he's grinning back. "You can come on in. I'm almost done getting things ready for Lila's birthday party tomorrow." 

"Can I help?" he asks, but you brush the offer aside, leading him through the hallway and into the living room, where you give him another push until he's settled on the couch. 

 "Beer's in the fridge, if you want, and Lila's already in bed. We have a spare room if you'd like to use it." He looks a little concerned at that - and, yeah, maybe you are being a little too forward - but you flash him another grin. 

 "What, you're making it up to me, right?" You ask him, voice teasing. "So you're going to do all the barbecuing for the party tomorrow."

He smiles back at you, but then the smile slowly fades, and he says again, sounding like he has to, "I'm sorry. I needed time to myself, but we're - friends, and- " 

 "You shouldn't have gone full radio silence?' You shake your head, amused, but Freddie's still looking at you like you might throw a temper tantrum, so you move to sit on the couch beside him, stretching out your legs so that your feet rested in his lap. 

Physical contact helps. Open communication helps. The slow massage he was giving your left foot definitely helps. After a few minutes: "I was upset, but it's just five days, Freddie. I've gone into radio silence for longer just because I had an assignment due." You give him a nudge with your other foot and he takes the hint, switching feet. "We're still friends," you tell him, the emphasis on the last word unmistakable, and you watch him colour up a little. 

 "Are you free next weekend?" He blurts out, like you figured he would, and you shake your head, biting back a smile. 

 "Nope, I'm chaperoning a school dance." 

 "Can I chaperon with you?" 

And there's no biting back the laugh you have to let out at that, hand covering your mouth so it doesn't wake Lila, and Freddie's looking halfway between amused and embarrassed.

 "The school isn't usually okay with having strangers attend our private school functions. Why don't you come out for coffee with me instead? Say, after your game on Tuesday, even if you lose?"

 The smile he gives you is something like watching the sun coming out, or maybe you're just feeling warm, but either way you'd have liked to be closer to him. 

 And then - voice teasing - "last time I asked you out for coffee you tried to snap my neck." 

 Which, fair, and you shrug a little even as you shift closer, so that you're sitting on the seat beside his on the couch, your bare thighs across his lap. His arm slips down from where it had rested along the back of your couch to around your waist, which. Feels nice. "Nah. Last time it was this kinda arrogant Ducks trade who'd asked me, and I wasn't even sure if he's any good between the posts." 

 A misstep, maybe, because his brows are creased again, and you have an urge to smooth it out with your thumb so you do just that. "So you want to go out with a good goalie," he says, something so uncertain in his voice, something sad in the way he looks down as you as though braced for the worst. Idiot. 

 You kiss his cheek, because you can't help it, then the corner of his lips - pulling back before he could kiss you properly, grinning a little as you drop one last kiss on the tip of his nose. "Yeah, but I'm hoping that's not all you're good at." 

[robot-unicorn-attack]

CHAPTER 02 - NYX

Taglist: @ayzrules​ @bebemoon​ @jay-swagsby​ @interluxetumbra @now-on-elissastillstands @shiftyprincess  @kzombi3 @filthysoulls (written by @kzombi3)

To say that she was excited would be an understatement.

The morning of the first race of the season came upon Team Nyx faster than expected. After the fiasco at Neon Demon and her "confrontation" with Len Widowmaker, in the eyes of the public and what press was present, they had a field day and ate it up. Spinning it into something much bigger and drama laced than it really was.

It's not like the two of them had never had a spat before. Especially in public - she was the villain after all - but it just rubbed Sol the wrong way. Particularly because she really missed her one and only true friend. Still misses.

So, for the last few days after the incident leading up to the day of the race, Allryn's been running around playing firefighter - trying to squash anything that would tilt the scale of the judges and more importantly LAZER before the race. Not that he needed too. Again; villain.

So when Allryn burst through the apartment door, expecting to have to drag the, typically drunk, dark beauty from her bed he was shocked and albeit surprised to find her curled in the window space that overlooked the skyline with a holoscreen opened in front of her. The manufactured glow from the holoscreen reflected off her eyes as they quickly scanned the ever moving tabs that she was throwing around. Making it look as though those cat like eyes of hers were blinking, even when they weren't.

Being as laser focused as she was, no pun intended, she didn't even register the other body that was making it's way towards her in the early morning light that was beginning to fill her spacious loft. Allryn continued to call out to her as he made his way towards her, trying to make his presence known before giving up and just marching up to her. He didn't have time for this. Neither did she for that matter.

Sol absolutely hates it when he sneaks up on her, so what better way to get her attention other than when she's spiting venom at him for scaring her?

"Solana." A last ditch effort resulted in improved results as he poked her bare shoulder. Turning faster than any robot unicorn could, Sol whipped her head in his direction while simultaneously jumping 10 feet in the air and pulling a small black bud from her ear.

"ACK! Allryn you motherfucker!" her chest was heaving as she placed a hand trying to calm herself. The smug asshole was just laughing, clutching his sides as he bent over. Standing back up to full height he wiped the small tears that gathered in the corner of his eyes and tried to catch his breath.

"Ahh, that was well deserved."

"I'm glad you got some enjoyment outta me after all." She cooed from her spot, still curled up and still focused on the screen in front of her. The artificial light was beginning to fade as the sun light streaming in became more prominent.

A small pout took root on his face, though it's not like Sol took notice. "New playlist?" A hum was all the response he received. Sighing he took a seat in the plush chair next to her and took one of her legs and draped it over his lap. A common position that they would find themselves when the atmosphere around them was comfortable as it was in this moment.

"You know you're going to have to start sleeping before races."

"It's never been a problem before. Why break tradition?" Another sigh from the agent.

"It's not good for you. And with the shit stirring up between you and Eleni-," that earned him a quick glare over the top of the screen, "Hey, it's the press' words - not mine," he threw his hands up in defense.

 It grew silent once more. Not as comfortable but still there. "How's Caelia?"

"She's great. Really great actually." A large smile broke through his tough exterior and Sol couldn't help mimicking him.

"And the pregnancy?" at that he might as well have combusted with light he was so animated.

Sol couldn't help it, she was sucked into this vortex of good news as Allryn went on and on about how the baby was growing stronger inside his mother's womb. So much so that Sol saved and downloaded all the music she had been searching for and turned it all off to sit and listen to him ramble on. Happiness oozing from him and thus being absorbed by her.

---

A few hours later and Vespa and Asteria arrived, along with a cheery Eleos to stand guard outside the apartment. Sol rolled her eyes and told him to at least guard from inside. "At least be comfortable," she had commanded. Eleos wasn't one to deny the comfort of a couch and some reading material. Honestly, it's not like she really needs to tell him with how long they've known each other. He just likes to hear that she's concerned. Even if she won't admit it out loud.

As her team flit about her, having thrust many an energy drink into her well manicured hands, they got to work stylizing her in iconic Nyxian garb. Making sure to start with her protective gear first underneath the hyper styled mesh and leather ensemble. Unlike the first time.

Vespa got to work on accentuating those piercing orbs of hers - the gold and black around the eyes really stood out against her attire and she stood back pleased with her work. Claiming it's her finest yet, "That's what you say every time," Asteria called from behind Sol as she made sure the pieces were tailored to perfection.

"So? I'm fuckin' da vinci when it comes to painting faces. Just look at mine baby."

---

The trip to the track was filled with more energy shots to keep her awake, laughter and scripts for what to do, what to say, how to say it etc. etc. The same old, same old. Sol remembers back to her first race and how LAZER force fed her lines through a bug in her ear to make sure she played up her role as the baddest bitch in the industry. After a few lines she ignored their prompting and took the reigns. Ever since no one can deny that that title is still hers to command.

It pulls at her ego, inflating it somewhat - OK a lot - but nevertheless tugs her lips into a genuine smile of pride. She's the one who has got her this far. The only thing she can attribute to LAZER is the opportunity and Uuie.

---

Pulling up to the track went about as expected. Regardless of how early she decided to show up, there was always going to be the paparazzi and press, along with the die-hard fans of course. Sol definitely played up her persona when she stepped out of the aircar, Eleos holding the door and reaching out to take her hand in attempt to help her. She took it like she always does and shot him a "scathing" look that to others looks very on brand for the villainess, but was just an inside joke between the two.

"Nyx! Nyx! Nyx! Nyx!" the crowd chanted loudly. So loud she almost couldn't hear the burning questions that were thrust into her face by the reporters.

"Nyx, who are you wearing?!"

"Nyx what is your srategy for this race?"

"How's it feel to have the home advantage?"

"What's the scoop going on between you and your teammate, Widowmaker?"

"We haven't heard your side of the story! And Widowmaker isn't talking to anyone either!"

"C'mon give us something to work with!"

Allryn was two steps in front of her at all times, pushing others out of the way in order for them to be able to walk through - however, no one made a motion to lay a finger on the Goddess of Darkness. At least no one outside of her masochistic following. Though they probably wanted to.

Turning on a dime when she got to the doors leading into the main hall of the stadium, she spoke in her most dastardly voice, "You'll just have to keep your eyes on the track then, won't you?"

---

Inside was no different as some press with VIP privileges bombarded her with a few questions themselves. The one that stuck out the most was something she was used to hearing. Having the reputation of being someone who sabotages others for the sake of having fun as well as a potential upper hand has always loomed over her. Though it's not like they would be completely wrong. All rumors start with a little truth, don't they?

"Nyx, here early to sabotage some competitors rides?" The question was followed by a group of laughter from the surrounding area. Not like it could be true, right?

A well placed grin and piercing eyes, "Me? Never~" A purr on her lips.

And with that she continued on her way to the stalls where she was able to visit and tinker with Uuie before the race would begin. Not to mention she'd been hearing through the whisperings of others that a certain spider was lurking about. Spinning webs that she definitively wants to get caught up in.

---

Once inside the stalls she glances around quickly for the one she truly wants to see and comes up short. A defeated sigh rings out as she makes her way to Uuie, the skeletal grin of his makes her heart jump in excitement as she begins to think about jumping onto his back and riding outta this place.

"Hello my beautiful, spooky boi~" she scratches - or rather, rubs her hands quickly, up and down the front of his long face. His eyes, er, rather lights, flash and blink like a real horses and she's taken back to when she was younger and a very headstrong Len berated her for thinking that these robotic creatures were anything less than alive. Having worked with machines her whole life it was hard to see past the gears and gas, oil and pistons. But ever since that night she's held a different outlook on the mechanical beasts.

His pistoned legs shifted as his weight did and Sol was dragged from her trip down memory lane. "Hey, hey now. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten~" she sang as she dug around the drawers and cabinets in her stall bay. Rummaging through all the excess parts and cans of oil and grease she let out a squeal of discovery. "Just gotta hook it up and… VOILA!" Noise and tempo began to pulse through the air in waves, finding a home within Sol's body and she couldn't help but twist and curve around as she began to dance to the music. Uuie must have been cut from the same cloth as her because he enjoyed music just as much. But it wasn't always the case.

When they were first introduced he was a little wary of the black beauty. She did run up to him and throw her arms around a skeletal beast. What kind of normal being does that? It was then that they realized how similar and weird the other one was. Their first meeting was a time trial run, something LAZER was adamant about conducting. So there they were in the stall bays getting tuned up - Sol refused to let anyone work on him other than herself - and she had music softly playing. Uuie must have enjoyed the beat because as she was greasing up the gears he began to tap his hooves to rhythm. It's been tradition ever since.

As she's bouncing around, she misses the door opening to area, but snaps at attention when it shuts with a very metallic clang. Her eyes lock onto the being she most looked forward to seeing and her heart flutters in her chest and she wants to run and tackle her, but knows that that's not the best idea, given the circumstances of location. Not to mention she'd ruin her attire and she can only imagine all the shit she'd garner from Asteria and Allryn. She shudders at the thought.

She settles for a large, wide grin and continues to tinker with Uuie, hands moving deftly as if she were born to do this. Which, she kinda was. Oils probably runs through her veins more so than blood at this point. Mouth moving in sync with every word that comes through the airway.

Void whinnies and she smiles a little, picturing Len stroking her side. The small pony wall truly separating their view from one another, especially at the crouched position Sol finds herself in. After the finishing touches to Uuie, she sneaks her way into Len's bay, bumping her hip with the latter, causing her to jolt and drag her out of her thoughts.

"Loosen up, Leni~" she coos, dancing around her, "You look like you're going to a funeral," and she wasn't blind to the twitching at her lips. Not because she was staring at Len's mouth or anything… definitively… not…

Having known each other for so long, it was inevitable that they would develop their own sort of language. It was also bound to happen that with close proximity and Sol being, well, Sol, that the amount of arguments would have been quite a lot. So, in their own little language they developed different ways of apologizing. Not that either of them did of course. No, never. But, in the off chance that one needed to, there was always a sort of manner of which they would. Sol's just happens to be inserting herself in the other's company and spouting off nonsense, in a way of making Leni more comfortable. Her tone and actions always held good intentions so it was pretty easy to pick up on Leni's perspective.

"There is a significant chance I might be," she had quipped back doing that head tilt thing that made Sol swoon. It was just too fucking cute and very on brand with soft Leni from their childhood. The one that likes to get drunk and lean on Sol. One of Sol's favorites. She was so entranced she almost didn't hear her speak again about the ravines being difficult.

Sol can help but let out a cackle that's too on the line to be discernible from Sol or Nyx - but she prays that her friend knows the difference. She seems to with the stare she's giving Sol. "Like you and Void have anything to worry about~" she sang before the song changed to one that makes the list of Len's annoyances. But she doesn't seem to notice, or at least mention it. So, Sol sings along. Any response from Len is a good response in her book.

And the reaction that is elicited from Len is one that Sol did not expect. The short haired spider sings the words under her breath and something in Sol swells with giddiness. "You know the words," she breaths out and hopes to all gods that it came out sounding more leveled than it was.

Leni's gaze turns to her, a brow raised and tone that tries to mask the little playfulness that's clearly there, "I've certainly heard you play the song enough. How is your hearing still that sharp anyways? With how loud you play your music I thought you would've blown out your eardrums by now."

Another cackle but this time laced with a squeal of delight as she claps her hands together, "You filthy liar! You've always gone on and ooooon about how much you hate this song!" She giggles and throws her arms around Uuie neck, nuzzling into his neck. "I thought I would never see the day~"

---

Eventually it was time to begin. Flame showed up in all her flashiness, appeasing to the crowd as the newest and fan favorite. 'For now' Sol thought bitterly. It wasn't like she didn't like the new blood on the contrary, she liked her a lot. She just didn’t like the threat she posed to Nyx of potentially "over throwing" her…

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she pushed on wards. The cheering of the crowd rumbled through the stadium, shaking the stands with the motion of the spectators as they stomped and shook the railings separating them from the track below. The air around them rumbled deep into her bones and she wasn't quite sure if it was the heat from the world around her or from the mechanical beasts that were lined up that caused her  blood to boil over with excitement.

Eye scanning the other racers already at the line and ready, Sol's intense gaze caught the floral presence of Aura, who avoided any and all eye contact with Lava worlder. It would have hurt her feelings had she cared enough but she just smugly placed a well to do smirk that the crowd's cheered for when the hovercams caught it, broadcasting the event to blast on the jumbo-tron screens for all to witness.

"… the ever wicked villainess Nyx in all her glory, with U-800 ready to strike-" the announcer's voice is drowned out by the raucous noise reverberating around her as Sol continues to stare around at the other racers - searching for her latest victim. Ah, there… poor sap, a no name from the citadel above the clouds. She was given explicit directions to not target any of the Big Three, for fear of having a swarm of lawyers crawl up LAZER's ass. And that was just something they could not have. However, whatever happens on the track as a result of her interference can't be faulted to her, or more importantly, LAZER.

So, she may or may not have had a hand in the tweaking of a horse or two. Maybe.

As she walked with Uuie to the start of the line, she made a subtle pass to the tubing in his exposed neck, where his audible sensors were, and tapped a small button there. This allowed Uuie to experience tunes at a very low and soft volume while he raced. Just another idiosyncratic habit the two of them formed over the years. Sol and Uuie, together on the track listening to whatever beat seemed appropriate for the moment.

Sol did however roll her eyes when she caught sight of Leni strapping into her helmet. It was something that didn't sit well with her. Something strange when she learned about all the safety equipment that went into the races upon signing onto a company. Years of running tracks and races without a care in the world, getting seriously injured, like that's part of what makes the races so alluring. It's one of the reasons that called out to Sol in the first place. Her and Leni would always berate the other when either one returned with new cuts and bruises or broken bones, doting on each other, nursing them back to health. Kissing it to make it better. She lived for those little moments.

Though she may roll her eyes at the idea of the helmet, she was so relieved to know that Leni would be safe, cranial wise cause she always knew if she was wearing one while on the tracks. Not to mention she was easy to spot. Aside from her other … assets. Sol tried her hardest to fight the sentimental smile that threatened to spill outwards as she looked at the helmet Widow was sporting. The design was only suppose to be a joke as they sat together drinking at Leni's place. The horns really tied into her Demon persona and Sol joked that it was because she was "Clever as the Devil and twice as gorgeous~"

Standing there as the stoic warrior she is Leni takes a glance at Sol, and through her holo-fitted helmet, she winks at her with eyes that burn with excitement of what is about to take place. Widow nods and even though she can't see her now covered face, she hopes that it has at least relaxed a bit. 'She's no good when she's tense~' Sol muses to herself.

 Climbing atop Uuie's frame gets easier and easier every time and like all the times before, they seem to just … fit. Like missing puzzle pieces. So snug and fitted that it's natural. His lightening mane illuminates her face and features, catching in her molten eyes that match the terrain around them. She can't wait to get this party started. And then, she didn't have too.

---

"The actual fuck?!" Sol snarls as she removes her invisible helm and chucks it into a cart stocked with spare parts and grease rags. Resulting in it crash to the concrete ground below, startling the retainer horses in their bays and stalls.

Quickly storming around the bay area she continued her tirade never once faltering in her anger. "I'm gonna blow up the judges' car." It wasn't a question. Nor was it something that could be swayed from her mind. It was a promise.

"No, Sol." Leni had been right on her heels since the final scores were announced. It was comforting to have her there with her as she was spewing curses at the lot of them. Though, she would have thought she was on her side with this. Leni was just as pissed. Sol could see it in her posture, the way she carried herself. And years with this woman has given her a leg up on everyone when it came to reading Eleni Landry like a book.

"Why not?!" She throws her arms out wide nearly clipping Leni's face as she did so. "What kind of fucking judgement was that? That was bullshit! We had the fastest time, and they put some RISE bitch and the fucking hoity toity Snow Queen at the top? I'm gonna fucking do it. I'm gonna-" though her rantings were cut off by Leni yanking her backwards by the cuff of her top and drags her into an empty room.

A look of seriousness flashes in her eyes as she stares down Sol, "You are not going to blow up the judges' aircars."

"But-"

"Not their shuttles, either."

It was almost comical to see the mighty goddess plop to the ground in all her regalia, and pout because she didn’t get her way when it came to causing collateral damage to those that wronged her. "Leni~" She whines, "that was so-fucking-unfair-," a groan slips past her lips smacking at the floor as if that was going to convince the spider to let her blow something up.

Leni just tightly folded her arms across her leather clad chest, pacing in circles around Sol as she continued to spout off different plans of mass property damage. "They were so clearly biased! They fucking cheated us! We should have been the winners!" Another groan and she went to tug at the ends of her hair.

"You were the fastest on the track, no injuries on our part! I don't understand, Leniiiiiii! Whyyyyy~" She made as if she were going to sob from the frustration.

"We should have won," Sol's ears perked up at the sound of her lover's voice in a tightly wound tone. She was about to go on about how much she agrees with her friend when the spider continued about how there must be something for them to do, how to spin it to emphasize their placements, where they stand.

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Leni, fucking stars. Fucking spin?" She huffed blowing one of the stray strands of hair outta her face. It was her own fault for pulling at it. "Who are you, Allryn? Since when did you care so much about winning a race?" She leaned forward to rest her arms across her knees, mumbling about how the winning portion was never a concern for her friend before but ya know, do you. Sol was way more preoccupied with more important business, like cutting a bitch.

Leni was still pacing circles around the angry black woman and more than once Sol would catch a hand twitch here and there. She would never bring it up to her unless she believed there to be a more serious cause other than angry jitters. But it had to be more than that, right? Leni doesn't just all of a sudden start caring about winning or losing races. Not at the drop of a hat. And especially doesn't talk about "spinning stories" for any type of gain. Sol doesn’t care if it's spider like or not. Leni's always been a straight shooter, well, relatively. Shit, the woman couldn't stand to know about Sol and her family's business so she would conveniently be busy elsewhere. There's even a few times where Sol is dead ass convinced that Leni called the cops on a location where Sol was meant to procure some materials. She's a fucking Robin Hood.

"OH! I could drug 'em with some synth and then watch as they go fucking insane over their poor decisions. Sneak on board their aircars and get their addresses and then strike 'em at home?! And I'm saying, I could do it, personal security systems are jack shit on those aircar models, so - Len? Leni? Are you even listening to me?"

Sol's voice must have cut through a deep thought as she witnessed Leni physically shake herself back to the present. "Don't. You can't do that."

"I absolutely can," Sol was about to go on the defensive and then it would just be another Neon Demon all over again. But the look that Leni's got across her face makes her think twice about that. There's something going on and she's going to find out.

"What the hell is wrong, Leni? What was so important about this race? You look scared and-,"

The moment was shattered when the doors opened with a clatter and Leni jumped in Sol's grasp, eyes darting to the source of the noise. LAZER agents come to grab their prized meal tickets. Their presence only served to fuel Sol's ire as she was still fired up about the outcome of the race and then for the fact that they were interrupting their moment. Not to mention, their arrival didn't seem to make Leni relax in the slightest only served to solidify to Sol that there was something more going on here.

"OUT!" The snarl that ripped from Sol did nothing to deter Allryn, however the woman just looked away and with a clear of her throat announced that they had post-race interviews to conduct in a few minutes. With a sigh, Sol stood from her seated floor position with ease and closed the gap between the two of them. Gently holding onto either side of Leni's face. Their faces mere centimeters, breath intermingling with one another. Sol rested her forehead to hers. She wanted to hold her forever, to reassure her that she was always here and always will be. But Leni isn't the type to get all mushy and tends to reject that Sol when she comes on too strong with the lovey dovey crap.

But it was as if Leni could read her mind, because in an instant, she pulled away and pressed her lips to Sol's cheek. Breath tickling her ears, "I'm fine." She was able to muster. And in that moment she knew she was being lied to. But she enjoyed the warmth that flowed through her at the contact. Something she's craved for what feels like eons.

So when she reached out to keep Len from walking away, she wrapped her arms around her. The leather jacket Leni wore, crinkled and gave under the embrace. And she smelled the same as she does every time they're together. Smoke and gas and leather and sweat and justice. It lasted only a moment and it was over just as quickly as it happened.

She slips the paper she's been carrying since the Neon incident into her slacked hand before straightening out and steadying herself before walking into the interview. Head held high, body swaggered like the Villain should be.

Lights flashed before her and all she could think about is the woman in the other room, and how she misses everything about her. From the way her skin feels under her touch, legs tangled up with one another, laughing about nothing and sitting on a roof as they watched the sky dance around them. Racing without a care in the world, dangers around every corner. Sol coming to Leni when Frankenstein fell on her and broke her arm and the big tough warrior of justice taking care of her.

Sol misses Leni and everything she represents for her.

                                                                                         - home.

[wild3flow3r]

Chapter Five

December 25th

There was a dull ache in the back of Lorelai’s head when her eyes fluttered open this morning. The buzzing of her alarm was highly annoying and relentless. She wanted to throw it out the window and sleep under her covers for the rest of her life. But slowly as she gained full consciousness, she realized what day it was.

It was Christmas. She should have been home with her family unwrapping presents at this time. Instead she had to get up and get ready for work, and the hangover she was sporting was not making her feel any better about the day.

And just at the full realization that she had a hangover, the events from the night before slowly start trickling into her brain. She went to some pub with Harry. They drank together and he might have even laughed a few times at some of the things that fell past her lips while her words slurred. Well, he was probably laughing at her and not with her, she thought. That sounded more like Harry.

Then it dawned on her about some of the personal details she had spilled. All about her brothers and sisters and her parents. He knew the basic details of what made up her family, some of the drama they’ve been through, maybe she even complained about something. Most of the details she spilled were fuzzy to her, but she does remember talking about them.

Finally she reaches over to turn the alarm off and sits up. She was still in her clothes from the day before, but had kicked her skirt off and her blouse was mostly unbuttoned. Lorelai sticks her too big slippers on her feet and stretches before exiting her small bedroom to her even smaller living room. She makes it about five feet in before emitting a shriek and dashing back to her bedroom with the door slamming shut behind her.

In the room on the other side of the door, someone falls to the floor with a loud thud and a guttural groan.

“What the hell?” Harry Styles asks himself before letting out a small whimper.

Harry Styles was in her living room. He was in her fucking living room. Why the hell was he here?

Lorelai rushes around her room, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a larger sweater over her frame. She’s already dressed and exiting her room once more by the time Harry starts to stand up from where he had fallen beside her couch.

Harry’s eyes scan over the small flat Lorelai called home. She never imagined him here, never in her entire life. All he did was make the place look smaller and just made her feel less. Less fortunate, less worthy, less valuable. She didn’t know why. Or maybe she did. It was because she had spilled her life story to him the night before. It also didn’t help that his eyes seemed to judge everything they landed on.

Until they reached hers. They softened when they landed on her face, but only for a fraction of a second before his face resumed its normal facade. Neither of them spoke as they took one another in.

Harry was still in his suit from the day before, but usually when it was firm pressed and not a thing out of place it was now wrinkled and a few buttons from his dress shirt were undone. His hair was unruly and curls flipped away from him out of place. This was the first time Lorelai realized that his hair was curly. Usually it was pushed back, every piece perfectly in place, that Lorelai never realized his natural style. All of this made Lorelai instantly annoyed at him. Even though he just woke up after a night of heavily drinking, Harry still looked bloody amazing. She probably looked like the feral cat she passes on the street every morning in an alley right by the Tube.

“What are you doing here?” Lorelai demands an answer from him while placing her hand on her hip.

Harry shrugs uselessly. “How am I supposed to remember if you can’t?”

“You drank less than me.”

“We drank the same amount. You’re just more of a lightweight.”

Harry seems so unbothered by the situation he was in, and that only made Lorelai angrier. She was so flustered by his appearance in her flat, but he was acting like he woke up in her living room every morning.

He stands on his tiptoes and lifts his arms up to properly stretch his back. “Your couch is absolutely horrendous. You should really think about investing in a new one.”

“My couch is just fine,” Lorelai snaps, although her eyes wander for a moment to his torso where his shirt revealed just a small patch of skin as it was lifted up. For a moment she thinks she’s spotted some tattoos, which she never pictured Harry having besides the small cross on his hand, but just like that it's gone and Harry’s back down on the balls of his feet.

Thank God he hadn’t caught her momentarily staring.

“It’s not,” Harry groans with one last stretch to his back and a light crack is heard. “‘m gonna have back problems for a week.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic,” Lorelai huffs before leaning down to pick up his suit jacket and throwing it at his face. “Now get out of my home.”

Harry catches the jacket before it can smack him, and when Lorelai looks at him next there's a soft smirk playing along his lips. Next, Lorelai pushes his shoes into his chest, which he barely takes from her with two fingers.

Harry sits down on the couch to put his shoes on, but continues to say, “I’ve never been treated so badly in my life. Did your mother never teach you how to properly host a guest?”

Lorelai clenches her fists at her sides. “She did, but she also told me that if there was someone in my house that I didn’t invite in then I was allowed to kick them out, literally.”

Harry shakes his head in amusement and stands. He shrugs his jacket over his shoulders. “You’re so much nicer when you’re inebriated. Practically begged me to stay the night with you.”

Lorelai’s eyes narrow. “Thought you said you didn’t remember why you were here.”

“It just came back to me,” Harry lies through his teeth.

“And?” Lorelai begins to impatiently tap her foot. It was something she picked up from her mother whenever she or one of her siblings took to long explaining what they had done wrong.

Harry’s eyes scan the room again, but this time in search for the front door. He takes slow steps towards it as he speaks to her. “We got drunk, you more than me, and we took a cab home. I was just going to drop you off and go back to mine, but then you tripped on the first stair up here so I got out to help you. You told me to fuck off and that you could get up the stairs yourself, so I watched for five minutes as you struggled up the stairs and another five for you to properly get your key in the lock. Then you tried to show me your collection of teapots before telling me to stay the night. Threatened to punch me in the face if I didn’t lay down on the couch, and I guess I knocked out before you got to bed.”

Lorelai tries to remember these events, and somewhere in the back of her mind they sound familiar. But still, she wanted him out of her house now.

“I don’t want you to ever mention this again,” Lorelai demands of him while she follows him towards the door.

This stops Harry in his tracks and Lorelai nearly rams into his back. “Well why not?”

“Last night is something I’d prefer to forget. I regret even going out with you at all.”

Harry frowns down to her. “What’s got you in such a mood?”

“Just get out, Harry.”

“Sterling-”

“Out.” Lorelai opens the door wide for him. A large gush of wind hits them but Harry makes no movement to leave. They stare at one another, both of their eyes hard.

“Don’t be late to work,” he mutters bitterly to her before stepping outside.

“I won’t be,” she growls back before slamming the door behind him.

***

Luckily for Lorelai, she did arrive to work right on time this morning. She couldn’t believe that Harry still somehow managed to get there before her, seeing that he had to go back to his home and change and then pick up his car. When she saw his coat on the rack this morning, she wanted nothing more but to tear it to shreds.

Lorelai knew why she was like this. Last night, the things she said, Harry could use them as ammunition against her whenever he pleased. He could hold stories about her family against her, try to embarrass their names in front of her. He knew things about her family that only her family knew about themselves. And he didn’t let anything about himself spill to her last night. Not that she would love to have some sort of leverage over him, but she would have liked it just so that they were even.

The minutes ticked by slowly. It was nearly time for Lorelai to take her lunch break, but she felt sick to her stomach. She imagined what her family was doing right in this moment. Her mother would be making her special butternut squash soup while her father grilled a ham. The kids would be playing with each other and Lorelai should have been there to gossip with her siblings about kids that grew up alongside them in their neighborhood.

Jones and her mother had sent Lorelai pictures throughout the day to make her still feel included, but all it did was make her feel even worse. Her presents arrived on time, thank god, and Jones had even sent her a video of Rebecca playing the child's keyboard Lorelai had gifted to her. All of her other siblings wished her a Merry Christmas through text messages and her father sent her a voice message.

Harry steps out of his office while Lorelai was watching the video of Rebecca for the thousandth time. She was resting her head on her elbow which was leaned against her desk, and looked down to her phone. He has to clear his throat to grab her attention, but even then she still doesn’t look up at him.

“What is it?” Lorelai asks him, her tone telling him that she was not interested in whatever he was about to say.

“Any phone calls?”

“You know there hasn’t,” Lorelia replies while pressing replay on the video.

“Well don’t you have other work to do?” Harry’s voice was starting to get rougher, probably because Lorelai was barely giving him any attention, she thought. “For someone who so badly wanted a raise, you surely aren’t doing the work to match your plea.”

Lorelai’s head snaps up at those words, clicking a button on her phone to turn the screen black. He came out here looking for a fight, and she knew it. His demeanor changed from how it was this morning. His body was tighter, veins begging to burst out of his skin, and his eyes darkened significantly that Lorelai couldn’t even tell they were green anymore.

“You’re going to hold that over my head now? It was a transaction, Styles. I faxed some papers for you and then you’re supposed to help me get a raise. It’s not something you can hold over my head whenever you get angry at me.” Lorelai was standing up now, and Harry stood directly in front of her desk.

“I can only give you the raise if you prove to me that you deserve it.”

Lorelai’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You don’t think I deserve it? You know damn well that I do almost all of Bertram’s work for him. He’s the name and the face for the clients, and I’m the hard work for the cases.”

Harry had a good five inches over Lorelai, even with her heels on, but his height never intimidated her no matter how hard he tried. Nothing he did intimidated her no matter how much effort he put into it.

Harry’s mouth lifts up to show his teeth like he was an aggravated dog ready to snap. Things were escalating too fast, the tension growing at an unprecedented speed that Lorelai almost couldn’t breathe.

He opens his mouth to finally retort, but Lorelai cuts him off.

“Look,” she snaps, her body shaking ever so slightly in irritation that a few strands of her hair fall in front of her face. “I don’t know what’s gotten you in an even worse mood than when you left my flat this morning. I don’t know if you had an oh so terrible phone conversation with your father-”

Harry’s eyes widen for a second before his face morphs into one Lorelai’s never seen before. Everything slacked before the muscles became even tighter. His jaw clenched so tight that Lorelai was sure his all of his teeth would crack inside of his mouth. She’d picked up on all of the comments he or Mister Webber had spoken about his father and made the connection that he was a sore topic for Harry.

“Don’t bring my family into this, and I won’t mention yours.” Harry cuts her off now.

“Don’t pick fights when there wasn’t anything to fight over in the first place! You know there’s no work to be done today! It’s the bloody holiday and everybody's enjoying their time with their families while I’m stuck in this hell with you, the devil himself.”

“The holiday is bullshit! It’s just another reason for people to be greedy and make others spend hundreds of dollars on them for some present that they’ll only use for a month.”

“Christmas isn’t about the presents! It’s about being with your loved ones and getting to spend time together. I feel sad for you if you think otherwise.”

And those words in themselves trigger something inside Harry. He backs off now, but that doesn’t stop his next words. It was like he was waiting for her to say something that would finally send him over the edge.

“I can’t give you the raise. Bertram called me yesterday morning and told me to fire you before he gets back from vacation. So yeah, you won’t be stuck here for the rest of your life.” And he walks back to his office without another word, shutting the door before Lorelai could even properly process what he had said.

She broke down crying on her desk. Harry wasn’t lying to her, he didn’t have a reason to. By the end of this week she’d be jobless.

~

December 28th

Today was the first day that Lorelai was going back to Clemens & Son since Christmas day, but it was only to collect her things. After Harry told her the news, Lorelai grabbed her coat and phone and left. She called Bertram when she had arrived home demanding him to tell her himself, and with an annoyed sigh he finally did. He was trying to save his company, he had told her, and Harry’s most efficient option was if she no longer worked there.

It was Harry’s fault, and he didn’t even have the guts to tell her. Sure it was Bertram who did it, but Lorelai should have known that Bertram has no original ideas of his own.

She hadn’t told her parents yet. Lorelai was terrified that they would recommend she come home for awhile until she found her footing again. She didn’t want that. When she moved out a few years ago she swore to herself that she would never move back in. Lorelai had told Jones though. She told him everything. He was her only friend.

On the 26th, Jones and Rebecca drove to London to help Lorelai recuperate. She didn’t even ask him to, he just did it and showed up on her doorstep as a surprise. He’d taken the week off of work for the holidays, and their parents thought it was a great idea so that Lorelai wouldn’t be all alone. They also knew about her lack of friends. And usually this didn’t bother Lorelai, but during a time when she needed comfort it was ever so apparent. That’s why she started to sob when she opened the door to her brother and niece.

Jones also wanted to be around when Lorelai had to go and pick up her belongings. He knew all about Harry as Lorelai often vented to her brother about him. He wanted to be able to drive her there to make the moving as smooth as possible, but he also joked about ripping Harry’s head off for how rude he always was to Lorelai.

So that’s how Lorelai found herself riding up the elevator for the last time in Clemen’s & Son. Jones stood next to her with Rebecca on his hip while she babbled to him about the dog they had seen outside. She’s been asking him for one for months now.

Bertram still wasn’t back to the office yet. He decided to extend his vacation for a few more days, an action that probably infuriated Harry to no end. Lorelai was thankful for it though. She didn’t know what she would say or do if she had seen him in person. When Lorelai and her brother stepped off of the elevator, Rebecca immediately asked to be let down. Jones warned her not to wander too far away, but all she did was begin to run around in circles.

“I don’t have too much, so this shouldn’t take long,” Lorelai tells Jones as she starts placing things in one of the boxes she brought along with her. Harry’s coat wasn’t there on the rack, and for that Lorelai was also thankful for. She wanted to come when Harry was on his lunch break, so she planned this perfectly. Well, almost.

The elevator began moving again, and Lorelai prayed that it would be some other person who worked in this building going to another floor besides this one. She had just finished packing the first box when Harry stepped out onto the floor. He froze momentarily when he spotted the three of them, but then he continued to take his coat off and put in on the rack.

Rebecca wanders over to him. Jones had been telling Lorelai that his daughter was having a hard time learning about stranger danger.

“Hello,” she starts while rocking back and forth on her heels.

Harry stares down at her, but his face was softer than it usually is. “Hello,” he responds.

“Are you Ha… Har… Harry?” she finally gets out once she remembers his name.

“Bec, don’t bother him, he’s probably got work to do,” Jones tells his daughter at the same time Harry replies with a yes.

Rebecca chooses to continue speaking to Harry rather than listening to her father's orders. She frowns up at him now though.

“You were mean to Aunt Lorelai. Your hurt her feelings,” Rebecca announces, the words turning Lorelai's face a light shade of pink.

Harry frowns at this and struggles to respond at first. Luckily for him, Jones saves the day and lifts Rebecca back up on his hip.

“Come on, you bugger. Let’s take this first box back to the car.” Jones easily holds his daughter and the box Lorelai had just finished packing.

Lorelai had to give it to Jones. He wasn’t even acknowledging Harry’s presence even thought he was right there and his daughter was talking to him. He knew if he said anything or did anything that Lorelai would be upset with him. She hated when other people fought her battles.

“You good up here by yourself?” Jones asks Lorelai while pressing the button for the elevator doors to open.

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” Lorelai tells him. She was nearly finished with packing the second and final box.

Jones nods once before getting in the elevator and letting the doors shut behind him. Harry didn’t move from beside the coat rack, and Lorelai continued to pack in silence. It wasn’t until she placed the lid on the box that he took a step towards her.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Lorelai tells him when she looks at him, his mouth open and ready to say something.

“I just need a minute-”

“No.”

“Just… take this,” he hands her a business card. Xavier Styles. Lorelai remembers Harry talking to his Uncle Xavier on the phone a few weeks back.

“What’s this for?” Her eyebrows scrunch up on the top of her head.

“I gave him a call yesterday. He said he’d give you a job if you were looking.”

Lorelai rolls her eyes and tries to give him the business card back. “I’m not going to be working with another Styles ever again.”

Harry shakes his head and refuses to take the card back. “He’s different from me. He’s nicer, and he treats his employees right. I told him you’d call him after the New Year.”

“I don’t want your help. You’ll just hold it against me.”

“I won’t,” Harry promises, and when she looks up into his eyes she can tell he’s telling the truth. “Just say you’ll think about it.”

Lorelai looks down at the business card again. She needed a new job, and it would be extremely hard to find one right after the holidays. She didn’t want to give Harry a peace of mind though.

“Maybe,” she tells him while pressing the button for the elevator.

“Lorelai,” he says while grasping onto her shoulder from behind. It was the first time he had ever said her first name. The fact didn’t leave either of them.

Lorelai shakes his hand off her shoulder and steps into the elevator. When she looks back at him he looks almost hopeless, and she might even feel a little bad.

“I’ll think about it,” she finally admits to him just as the doors shut. Lorelai thinks she might have even seen him smile in relief, but the doors close before she really gets to tell.

[wildroseofarran]

Otherworldly Revelations, Pt. I || Callum, Matheus, & Luna

Matheus: Matheus looked to his clock once more. He wasn't paying attention, so looking was as useless as breathing. Ronan wasn't coming back. He was upset. Their night together had been ruined and his forward behavior had only set to worsen it.

He looked to the clock again.

He needed to get out of his cabin.

So, he would walk. The door shut behind him, monocle adjusted, he didn't consciously care where his feet led him, but they were specific in their direction just the same. Past 9th Street, Valmont Drive, over the bridge.

He passed his old mansion with slower caution.

Where was he going?

Callum: The creature at the end of the vampire's unintentional path was having a rather strangely pleasant evening.

Work with flowers and plants had been temporarily put aside in favor of assembling a small bookshelf for his guest room. There was a dog dozing away on the chair closest to him, The Twilight Zone was keeping him company, and a fluffy white cat was lounging by the screen door, half peering outside, half watching his owner.

All in all, a very peaceful scene at the MacGillivray household.

Matheus: The moon was nearly full, so turning his head to the left, he'd see Callum MacGillivray work with perfect detail. He should know better, shouldn't he? Keep his doors locked, windows shut. Keep things like him out.

He had no ill intention.

He headed towards the window.

Callum: It was too nice outside for Callum to even consider closing the door and windows. The night air was starting to cool with the promise of autumn and he just couldn't resist.

Prospero turned toward the movement in the darkness while Callum squinted at the instruction manual.

"I wonder which is worse," he said to no one in particular. "Havin' the instructions in Swedish or havin' these vague bleedin' pictures."

Matheus: "Pictures are universal, Mr. MacGillivray, Swedish is just cruel."

Callum: Callum just about jumped out of his skin at the voice, dropping the instructions and the screwdriver he was holding as he whipped toward the window.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!"

Matheus: "Really, you should better pay attention to your surroundings. Not everything is as benign as I am."

Callum: "Buildin' Ikea furniture tends to require all one's wits. And ye're preachin' to the choir." He picked up the manual and screwdriver and put them on the coffee table, hands settling on his hips.

Now what could Matheus Clay be doing in his neck of the woods?

Matheus: "Your wards are very well made," he said. "I don't think we're the same as when they were put in place."

His eyes closed. "No, I dare say, we've grown since then. Incidentally, you have a spirit dwelling in your backyard."

Callum: Callum's brow furrowed. "Aye, they are. Hands far more skilled than mine put them in place." And if those hands had gotten their way, there'd be even stronger wards in place, and more of them.

He nodded. "I'll wager we have. No one stays in the same place forever, no' even someone immortal." Callum blinked in surprise. "I do?" So that's what Jolly Roger was barking at all this time.

Matheus: "Change, but excruciatingly slow. There is no doubt about that. Can take a hundred years to learn to love." His thoughts still retreated to Ronan.

"Yes, you do. I'm not wrong."

Callum: "I suppose it could, yes." And wouldn't that be a sad and lonely wait?

Huh. How about that? "Man, woman, or being?"

Matheus: "I don't know. I only sense it. It's a new soul. That much I can tell you." Their last conversation hadn't gone nearly as amicable. He looked from the ground to the druid.

Callum: "Hmm. I'll probably have to look into that sooner or later." Then again, it wasn't as if the spirit was wreaking any havoc. He hadn't even noticed their presence. Maybe he'd let them stay.

Speaking of staying...

"Do you...want to come in?"

Matheus: A hand slipped into his coat pocket. He looked towards the street.

"I took your sense of love. I took it without so much as a hello. You're asking me to come inside?"

Callum: "Well those wards you noticed won't let you pull that again, so..."

Matheus: "Here." How did that make Callum feel? A prisoner in his own home?

Callum: "Here," he repeated before pointing at his head. "And in here." Bronwyn had done more than ward his house.

She'd taught him how to ward himself.

Matheus: "Does that prevent your husband from tampering as well?"

Callum: "It prevents ill will from messin' with my head."

Matheus: "So, I can enter just fine."

Callum: "I'm afraid the door to my house is the only one that's open, mate." A nice way of saying 'fat chance'.

Matheus: 'I harbor little resentment to you and the murder of my wife.'

Callum: Callum blinked.

Matheus: "Anyway, Mr. MacGillivray, I'll leave you to it."

Callum: "....So you just came around to tell me I had a ghost and philosophize?"

Matheus: "I had no intention to see you. I'm just...walking."

Callum: Interesting place to have walked to, considering their history. "I see."

Matheus: Perhaps a part of him had desired some form of retaliation, punishment.

"Have a good evening." So, he'd continue on, back the way he came? Towards his old home. No shortage of animosity there.

Callum: "You as well." Because why bother with ill will? That was a waste of energy. "Enjoy yer walk, Matheus."

Matheus: His final farewell was just a smile which had no chance of reaching his eyes. Surely, something interesting would be happening in Rosmond's life. The prince of Edenton might have a task he could volunteer for. A show of good will.

Callum: The smile Callum gave him in return was a shade more genuine, but as soon as Matheus was out of sight he was squinting toward his backyard.

"Come on, laddie," he said to Prospero. "Let's see if we can catch sight of our silent housemate."

Tolvin: It wasn't as though they would see a man or woman standing out beside his rose bush. The moon, however, did appear brighter in the backyard. It offered a shine like that of a frosted glass spotlight.

Callum: This did not go unnoticed by Callum. In fact, he had to wonder how he hadn't noticed it before. "There is somethin' out here, isn't there?" he asked the cat.

Prospero stood by his master, ears moving back and forth as he tried to catch any sound the presence made. Of course there was something out here, he just didn't know who. But he was watching! As soon as the thing made a move, he'd know.

He chirped.

Tolvin: Aside from the light, very little was askew. A few flowers were nothing more than green stems, their buds cleanly cut. A few looked as though they had somehow exploded. Footsteps littered between the paths. There was emotion. A sense of determination Callum would feel as his own should he step closer.

Callum: Since he didn't sense any immediate danger, Callum did indeed step closer, scooping up the cat along the way.

"Seems like our spirit has been tramplin' about, boy-o," he said to Prospero, frowning at his maimed flowerbeds. He looked around for the source of the feeling clinging to the air. "They're restless."

Tolvin: There were footfalls in between the rose bushes. A soft patter to and fro, a crunch of healthy grass.

Callum: Man and cat turned toward the sound as one. "....Hello?" Callum called, stepping further into the garden.

Tolvin: There would be no answer, though the steps suddenly ceased.

Callum: Strangely enough, that made Callum smile. "So you are here, then. He was tellin' the truth. All right." He nodded to himself.

"Ye're welcome to stay if you like. Just mind the flowers."

Tolvin: Flowers? He wasn't doing anything to them. He didn't exist in the world of flesh, yet he was surprised to see them squashed where he had paced. He attempted to step on one, but as he paid attention, his foot went through it.

Callum: "You seem restless, which...makes sense given yer particular circumstances. It's a wonder I didn't notice you before. You wouldn't happen to possess the ability to flawlessly understand Ikea instructions, would you?"

Tolvin: What was this man going on about? He wouldn't have noticed before because this was his first night here. The flowers had attracted him, though he knew the name of none, save for the roses themselves. It was all random but beautiful.

Tolvin looked around and back. He waved his hand in front of the druid.

Callum: Random was exactly the way he liked his garden. Nature was meant to be random, with all manner of colors and varieties of all manner of plants growing side by side.

Callum may not have been able to see him, but Prospero very nearly could. At the very least, he /knew/ Tolvin was there, and that he was a man.

He watched Tolvin's general area intently, meowing.

Tolvin: "Hey, puss-puss." The wraith brushed his invisible finger over Prospero's paw.

Callum: Prospero gave a start, giving a little squeak of surprise before batting at the air. He'd definitely felt that. He knew there was someone there!

Tolvin: Tolvin laughed, and the air around them lessened in tension. He needed that.

Callum: Both Prospero and Callum felt the air lighten around them, and so did the remaining member of the household.

Jolly Roger came trotting over, sitting at Callum's feet and staring at the same spot as his brother.

"We've a guest, laddie. Say hello."

Tolvin: "Another crazy in this town," he mused. "Hello, whatever you are. My name is Dana Francis Tolvin."

Callum: Like Prospero, Jolly Roger couldn't see Dana but he definitely knew he was there. And being the ever-inquisitive puppy, he gave the area a sniff and looked for something tangible to bark at.

Tolvin: "This is ridiculous." The frustration slowly began to return. "What's the point of this if I can't do anything worthwhile?!"

Callum: Jolly Roger tilted his head as the air began to change again. He whined softly and nudged the mass of air he judged to be Tolvin.

Tolvin: Tolvin was too busy studying the dark-haired man in front of him, seemingly oblivious of his anger. Fingers were snapped in his face, hand waved over his eyes. Nothing.

"Fucking Christ."

Callum: Not exactly nothing.

While it was true Callum couldn't see or hear the spirit in his backyard, he could definitely feel it. Or rather, he--and the Mark on his arm--could feel its emotions.

So as Tolvin exclaimed his frustrations, Callum flinched, putting Prospero down so he could rub his now tingling arm.

Tolvin: The man ignorant of his guest's nearness seemed suddenly nervous. Maybe...Maybe this was progress. What did that stranger say a day ago? He thought of Logan and Luke, the beautiful Ls of his life and directed his emotion towards neediness, determination and heartache. He focused his eyes in the man in front of him.

The flower by Callum's foot swelled with bloom and died in a delicate combustion of shredded petals.

Callum: Even if he'd written off the prickle in his Druid Mark as a fluke because of the supernatural energy in the air, there was absolutely no mistaking the influx of emotion Callum was picking up on and all but feeling as his own.

There was definitely a restless spirit in his yard and that person was hurting and frustrated and seemed to have a very strong will.

Callum took a deep breath, nodding at the spot his pets were still looking at. "I can feel it," he said softly, absently rubbing his arm as he watched a moonflower bloom and die. "I can feel it, mate."

Tolvin: He felt it? What did that mean when Logan, when Luke - No. Luke had felt something. They'd believed it to be something like a hex. What was he meant to do with this information?

"Can you hear me?"

Callum: He couldn't, but he was now making a conscious effort to see or hear the person in front of him. He opened himself to his magic, eyes glowing electric blue as he let it flood him and heighten his senses.

"Try to pet the dog. I want to see if I can see you move."

Tolvin: "Pet the dog..." The giant shaggy thing? He reached out, paused his hand in front of the animal as though to allow it to sniff. For a moment he felt ridiculous. Nothing left but to attempt the request. Clearly, this man was not human.

Callum: As soon as Jolly Roger heard the word 'pet' he started wagging his tail so hard his entire body was shaking, making Callum laugh and momentarily lightening the situation.

A laugh that abruptly died on his lips as he caught...some type of movement above the puppy's head. It wasn't an apparition or anything solid, it was...like those shadows you saw at the bottom of a lake or a shadow moving in fog.

Callum: "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph..."

Tolvin: "Oh, holy...shit." He began to pet the length of Jolly Roger's back. He could swear he felt his fur, but it was a memory, nothing more.

Callum: Callum didn't know if it was his lack of experience with communicating with spirts or the spirit's level of strength, but try as he might he couldn't see anything beyond those shadows. They also didn't disappear, however, so this spirit did have some power.

A thought Jolly Roger would've agreed with, since he appeared to be having the time of his life despite not being able to actually see the source of his attention.

Tolvin: "So I can damage landscape, pet a Shaggy, and make people feel strange. Wonderful. I'm the world's shittiest poltergeist." Wait a minute. He turned his attention back to the stranger. Would it feel the same? Would he remember the texture of skin? His fingers maintained their callus appearance, though they were as the rest of him, nothing more than ectoplasm. An attempt was made to cup the man's face.

Callum: As it had happened with Logan that morning on her walk home, as it was happening even now with Jolly getting petted, although Callum couldn't see the source, he felt the presence.

So when Tolvin reached out to touch his face, the resulting echo of energy tingling against his skin and damn near brushing against his facial hair made him jump.

Tolvin: "I'll be damned." How far could he take this parlor trick? That's all it seemed to be. Once the man had settled, he reached for him again. He wished this experience was with Luke, not the weekend performer from Pete's.

He placed his hand over Callum's heart.

Callum: This time it wasn't a jump or a flinch; just a single sharp inhale. Feeling that surge of energy right above one of his body's own center of energy felt a little like the descent of an airplane in its intensity.

"Jesus," he said softly, taking a deep breath. "You pack a punch for someone I can't even see clearly."

Tolvin: "I guess that's a compliment. I don't know where to go from here, mate." His hand dropped away. "I'll go disturb someone else's garden."

Callum: Callum didn't really know either, but this had sparked an inspiration to look into communing with spirits. Even though he'd never tried it out, he knew there was an aspect of Druid magic that would allow him to do so. Maybe his father knew of a spell.

"Um...would you...like some help? I could find a way for you to be able to communicate with me or whoever ye're tryin' to communicate with."

Tolvin: What was the catch? Of course he wanted this. He wanted to speak with Logan, with Luke. Someone recognizing him and meeting him halfway was too good to be true.

He placed his hand on Callum's chest again, removed it, and placed it back.

Callum: The concentration of energy had him nodding and breathing sharply again. "I'll take that a yes," he said, rubbing his chest. "Just be a wee patient, okay? Might take a bit but we'll get it done."

Tolvin: They were limited to yes and no questions. He couldn't say thank you the way he wanted to. For once he was grateful for the supernatural. Still, he couldn't stay here. He wanted to see his favorite people.

Callum: Tolvin was going to get that opportunity sooner than he thought. Or half of it at least.

Just as Jolly Roger attempted to get more pets out of their guest, Callum's phone rang.

Fishing it out of his pocket, he answered, "Hey, Luke."

Tolvin: Tolvin hesitated in his leave, watching the haze that was this man in his garden. The world was different on this side of the looking glass. It was darker, duller. For Tolvin, under elevated circumstances, he would have found it peaceful.

Callum: Whatever Luke was saying was making Callum practically sag in relief. "Yes, please," he said. "Those bloody instructions are makin' me want to tear my hair out." A pause. "All right, see you soon."

Tolvin: Well, maybe he'd stick around to see who was coming for a visit. He'd follow Callum inside.

Callum/Luke: The house was just as peaceful as it had been before Matheus' visit. The TV was on low, the lighting warm and faded a bit, and even the disaster zone that was the living room managed to have some charm to it.

Jolly Roger returned to his chair, Prospero to the door, and Callum to his pile of furniture parts. Five minutes later, a car pulled up and Luke came in.

"Jesus," he said by way of greeting, scooping up the cat. "You trying to put this thing together or destroy it bit by bit?"

"Blame the bleedin' instructions."

Tolvin: The moment Luke entered the house, the atmosphere began to thicken with new sensation. Desire churned to anger churned to lust and hopelessness.

Callum/Luke: The animals were the first to sense the change in the atmosphere; Prospero tensed in Luke's arms and Jolly Roger whined softly. The people barely reacted at all.

Callum attributed it to the spirit and Luke to the weirdness that seemed to be hanging around him lately.

Chest wrought with feeling, he joined Callum on the floor. "So, what are we making?"

"A bookshelf for the kitchen. Theoretically."

"All right, let's see that evil manual."

Tolvin: "That's it? That's all you have to talk about? You just realized there's something in your backyard and that's all you're going to say?!"

Callum/Luke: Now Luke was the one rubbing his chest. Callum's house was usually this serene little bubble but today it didn't feel any different from any other place. He could feel that visceral something in the air unnerving him, making him feel that if he just looked or listened closer he'd be able to make sense of it.

"Cal, you got any whiskey?"

"Aye, wh--are you all right, mate?"

Luke had gone very pale in a very short space of time. His breathing had even shallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, I just..." He took a deep breath. "Something's wrong, Cal. I can feel it."

Tolvin: That was what Luke seemed to be saying lately. He and Logan both felt his presence as something unnerving. Why it was different from Callum he didn't know. The wraith had yet to piece together his emotions as the source of their discomfort. Being in their presence pierced his resolute constitution.

"Luke. Luke! Look at me. Goddammit, how do you not feel me like he does?!" He would attempt the same. He tried to place his hands on Luke Graham's face.

Callum/Luke: Callum's brow furrowed in concern. "What do you mean something's wrong? Physically, emotionally?"

Luke shook his head. "No, no, I'm physically fine. Lately I've just been feeling a lot--Jesus fuck!"

He jumped as he was treated to the same sensation Callum had felt out in the garden, looking around for whatever had caused it while Callum grew even more concerned.

"What happened?!"

"Some...something touched me. I swear to God something just touched me."

Tolvin: If Tolvin could breathe, no doubt he would be panting, heart slamming in his chest with unyielding excitement to his new discovery.

"Luke... It's alright. It's just me. You..." He looked towards Callum. "You. Tell him he's okay. Tell him I'm..." What could he say? In fact, wouldn't this only prove his death, break Luke's heart? Was this man still in love with him as he had claimed?

He hesitated, backed away.

Callum/Luke: Callum felt himself sag with relief for the second time that night. "It's all right, mate, ye're all right. Stay there, I'm goin' to get you some whiskey."

"All right?" Luke repeated, looking at Callum with something between confusion and dread. "I just told you I felt something invisible touch me and you're acting like this happens every day."

"Well, no' every day but verra often when ye're a Druid." He poured the whiskey and handed it to Luke, who immediately drank half of it.

"Feel better?"

Luke nodded. "A little. What was that?"

"Apparently I've a spirit currently occupyin' my house. Or yard technically." When Luke's eyes went wide he added, "It's no' malignant, I promise. Just frustrated and a wee intense."

Tolvin: The anger which had bordered on stifling the house soon dissipated into a kind of depression one would feel during an impending flood. This man was narcotizing his emotions with whiskey. Meanwhile, what was Logan doing? They had to know. Logan had to know. It was cruel for her to live in a false hope. Still, he had to stay. He had to watch them both. How would he achieve this if she learned the truth and returned home?

Callum/Luke: "Yeah, well, I've had plenty of intense recently." Luke's tone reflected the feeling currently permeating the house.

"What do you mean?"

"It's like...something's been hanging around me. Most of the time I don't really notice it and it doesn't bother me but others..." Luke took another deep breath. "It feels like I'm feeling someone else's emotions and sometimes they're so strong it's like something's lodged in my chest and I can't breathe."

Callum's brow began to furrow again as Luke explained. There was something awfully familiar about that...

"How long has this been happenin'?"

"Um..." Luke thought for a moment. "Since the day Parker told me the troopers were giving up on finding Dana. Logan thought someone had slipped me a spell bag? I think that's what it was."

Tolvin: No. No, it wasn't that. Normally she would be right. She was a very sharp huntress, but in this she was wrong and despite the dread Tolvin felt, he placed his hand once over Callum's heart. No.

Callum/Luke: One would think that Callum would've gotten used to the sensation by now, but having the surge of energy in his chest still rendered him breathless for a few moments.

And confirmed what he'd been thinking.

"It wasn't a hex bag, Luke."

"Hex bag, that's what it was." He frowned and sipped his whiskey. "If it wasn't one of those then what was it?"

"Well, I know this might sound crazy but I think it was the spirit that's in my garden."

Tolvin: Tolvin watched for any distress in Luke's expression. Would it be depression or relief, both? Nothing? What were the stages of death and dying and did it apply here? Denial, bargaining, anger, depression, acceptance. Surely, his misplaced affection for the hunter was just that, youthful folly.

Callum/Luke: Fortunately (or unfortunately), none of those things were in Luke's expression. Just plain ol' confusion.

"So I'm...haunted? By the same person that's haunting your house?"

Callum nodded. "It's lookin' that way, aye."

"But why? I haven't come across any dead people."

Tolvin: "...If I could throw something at your blown back head I would, mate. Seriously?" He should have been angry, furious even, but instead the wraith laughed. Denial, then. Denial of the truth he must have known in his gut.

Callum/Luke: "Well...you did say this started the same day that Parker told you about the state troopers stoppin' their search for Dana Tolvin so..."

"...So, what? Just because they stopped looking for him that must mean he's dead and haunting your garden? Come on, Cal!"

"I'm no' sayin' that's what's goin' on, just that it's possible."

Tolvin: A voice of reason after so many weeks. He hadn't given up hope, but his patience had worn itself ragged.

Two touches to Callum's chest. He had to use this man's gift.

Callum/Luke: The touch to his chest proved he was right, but that brought no relief or comfort. This would destroy Luke if it wasn't handled with care and devastate him if it was.

There was no silver lining here, and even if there was, Luke was having none of it.

"No it isn't! Dana isn't dead!"

"Then why haven't they found him, Luke?" Callum asked gently. "Brett and Peabody have been lookin' for weeks and there's no sign of him anywhere."

Tolvin: What could he do? Remind him of his presence. Perhaps not the best idea, but it felt logical and for once he existed in a sense of calm.

He reached for Luke again, reached for his cheek.

Callum/Luke: Luke had no answer to Callum's question despite the fact that something inside him knew Callum was right. Hell, Logan had already accepted it and her grief was so strong that she only left her house to go to mass and pray for Dana's soul. And maybe that's why he clung to hope so fiercely.

Giving it up would mean Dana was really gone, and that he'd be dragged under by that same gut-wrenching grief for the man he loved.

A man that--if Callum was right--was touching his face right now.

"People don't just vanish into thin air, Cal," he said, startling just as before (though more mildly). "If he was dead, and that's a big fucking if, they would've found his body. The blood isn't enough to prove he's dead."

"All right, true enough. But the amount of it leads to only one conclusion and that conclusion wasn't just pulled out o' thin air. There's biological fact backin' it up."

Tolvin: The sensation transferred from his face to his shoulders, chest and back. Embracing something that wasn't of his realm was tricky. It was like miming a hug. He knew Luke could feel sensation, but nothing solid. It had to be enough.

Luke: The air wasn't thick with emotions that weren't his as it had been a few moments ago, but the whisper of imaginary contact across his skin was making his chest hurt just as badly.

It was like whoever was in the room with them was trying to comfort him, and that comfort felt like it was confirming everything Callum was saying.

"I can't give up on him, Cal," Luke said softly, staring at the cat in his lap. "I just can't. I love him."

Tolvin: "What does that mean, Luke? Talk to me. Just acknowledge me! I can have a conversation with this stranger, I should be able to with you!"

Callum/Luke: Callum sighed. He wouldn't get through to Luke today. More time was needed. "I know, mate. I know."

Luke nodded. "Mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Go ahead."

"Thanks."

Once alone, Luke leaned back against the door and took a deep breath that was a lot shakier than he cared to admit.

Tolvin: Tolvin remained in the living room, observing the world through a gray and sepia filter. He had no intention of giving up, but for now, stalemate.

Luke: Luke could practically feel his resolve slipping and it was for the worst possible reason.

"Do you know how much I've wished that you'd want to touch me?" he whispered to the air, closing his eyes. "And now when you might be gone you finally..." He shook his head. "You're a bastard, Dana."

Tolvin: The living room wasn't where he wanted to be, but what else? To watch Logan pray for the hundredth time? He wanted to wallow in anger but Luke had an opportunity to learn more and share his discovery with his sister.

He began to pace the length of the house.

Callum/Luke: Luke returned to the living room a few minutes later, eyes faintly red and a little swollen.

It was obvious he'd been crying but Callum wasn't going to offer any comment other than, "You okay?"

Luke nodded. "I'm fine. Let's build this bookshelf."

Tolvin: Halfway through their assembly, the air thinned. The stifling air which had bombarded them with raw emotion lessened. The burden which had sat beside Luke for the past twenty minutes had decided to abandon the house.

Callum/Luke: It was the lightening of the atmosphere throughout the house that prompted Callum to ask, "I know there's no solid proof yet, but...are you goin' to tell Logan?"

"That her brother might be haunting your garden?" A shelf was slotted into place. "I think I have to." And another. "I'll go see her soon. Was gonna take her groceries anyway."

Tolvin: Tolvin knew what he'd been doing, though he actively avoided the thoughts, he further avoided Logan Riley. He'd never been as faithful and devoted to prayer, to believing in the cross she wore around her neck. He'd believed in their work, but that's all I had ever been about. He didn't want to watch her pray, but he was going home anyway.

[kamenhusband]

So in the meantime of getting a new laptop I did a writing exercise for my OC Gyro doing character banter with the Injustice 2 cast, like the pre-fight dialogue.

Crimson Rider vs Injustice 2 cast

Batman: Show me you got what it takes.

Gyro: I started training at half Nightwing's age.

Batman: You’ve never fought me before.

Gyro: Don’t you think that’s a bit much?

Batman: Trust me, I can afford it

Gyro: My tech’s more, economical.

Superman: You know exactly how strong I am, right?

Gyro: Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you

Superman: That was your last chance.

Gyro: You will be stopped

Superman: I only fight for justice

Gyro: A lot of villains start off that way too

Wonder Woman: It would be wise to surrender

Gyro: Says the homicidal demi-goddess.

Wonder Woman: You know nothing boy.

Gyro: Zeus is gonna be so disappointed in you.

Wonder Woman: I am the gods’ judge and executioner.

Gyro: So ALL the gods are gonna be disappointed.

Aqua man: What is your business with Atlantis?

Gyro: Just wanted to try some sushi.

Aqua man: The trident says otherwise.

Gyro: You must hate Seaworld don’t yah Arthur?

Aqua man: Get out of my way.

Gyro: Just trying to make conversation dude.

Super girl: This is a symbol of hope.

Gyro: And I’m the symbol of freedom.

Super girl: You have the freedom to run away

Gyro: My girlfriend can beat the tar out of you.

Super girl: Then why isn’t she fighting me?

Gyro: Cause I’m still stronger than you.

Power girl: How can you stand all those sounds from your suit.

Gyro: Makes me sound cooler.

Power Girl: Makes you sound deader.

Gyro: My coordinator says you’re…different

Power Girl: What’s that supposed to mean?

Gyro: You don't belong here, and that’s coming from me.

Green Lantern (Hal): You’d make one helluva Green Lantern kid.

Gyro: My power comes from all emotions, not just one.

Green Lantern: Fair enough, let’s begin.

Gyro: Y’know, red’s more my color anyway.

Green Lantern: Red is the color of rage.

Gyro: Red is the color of heroism.

Green Lantern (John): The Guardians have an interest in you.

Gyro: Not interested, flying’s not my thing.

Green Lantern: You don’t have a choice.

Gyro: There certainly a lot of lanterns

Green Lantern: Universe’s a big place.

Gyro: Aren’t you afraid you won’t stand out?

Flash (Barry): I’m the fastest man alive

Gyro: Subjective and also super debatable.

Flash: You don’t even have the speed force.

Gyro: I don’t need the speed force to outrun you.

Flash: I can't run from a fight.

Gyro: Yeah, also better at that than you.

Flash (Jay): Ever faced an original speedster?

Gyro: In my world, yes, yes I have.

Flash: Then this will be refreshing.

Gyro: You remind me of my grandfather.

Flash: This old timer can teach you some things.

Gyro: He taught me everything he knew.

Reverse Flash: I am the master of the speed force

Gyro: I am the master of kicking your ass

Reverse Flash: You’d be surprised.

Gyro: Speedsters never last long.

Reverse Flash: You don’t know what I’m capable of.

Gyro: Quite frankly, yes I do.

Green Arrow: How does your bow work?

Gyro: charged by kinetic energy, infinite arrows.

Green Arrow: Way to make the rest of us feel jealous.

Gyro: Where’s Canary to fight your battles for you?

Green Arrow: At least my defender isn’t called Pink Princess.

Gyro: Okay I get it, let’s drop it Oliver.

Black Canary: You wanna throw down with me?

Gyro: This suit has some great ear plugs.

Black Canary: My cry will rattle your skull.

Gyro: Please, go raise your son, he’ll thank you later.

Black Canary: I’m not one to back down from a challenge.

Gyro: This isn’t a suggestion.

Cyborg: So you know an android?

Gyro: And she’s three times more human than you.

Cyborg: You’re going to regret saying that.

Gyro: My tech surpasses yours.

Cyborg: All your tech is is sketchy.

Gyro: Yet not as sketchy as the regime.

Grid: You will help me on my quest for emotion.

Gyro: You will not succeed rust bucket.

Grid: It is futile to resist.

Gyro: The Pathos Drive isn’t something you can just acquire.

Grid: False, everything in this world is just data.

Gyro: Time to you prove you hella wrong.

Firestorm: I can go nuclear in seconds.

Gyro: I can punch mountains apart.

Firestorm: Now that is seriously badass.

Gyro: You know my father can make blue flames?

Firestorm: Does he have the matrix too?

Gyro: No, it’s natural for him, me… less so.

Blue Beetle: Is your coordinator as scary as the scarab?

Gyro: Probably, who knows, Liz can be petty at times.

Blue Beetle: Can we switch please? Pretty please?

Gyro: Once again, I'm a grasshopper, not a scarab.

Blue Beetle: But you got a scarab shield.

Gyro: Details, details Jaime.

Robin: I’m the world’s greatest assassin.

Gyro: And I’m the world’s best fighter.

Robin: Won’t help you here bug boy.

Gyro: And I thought I had father issues.

Robin: I don’t have any issues.

Gyro: Just settle down Bat boy.

Harley Quinn: And what are you exactly?

Gyro: Italian and Hawaiian, I know it’s hard to pinpoint.

Harley Quinn: I meant Batman, Flash, B.B, you’re them all.

Gyro: You know, I have a friend kind of like you.

Harley Quinn: Ooh, are they pretty as me? No don’t tell me.

Gyro: I meant you both got out of a shitty relationship.

Black Adam: I command the living lighting.

Gyro: I dodge lighting bolts for funsies.

Black Adam: You dare mock a king?

Gyro: I can’t stand with the regime.

Black Adam: Then you will fall under my strength.

Gyro: I’ve fought gods too.

Gorilla Grodd: My powers don't work on you?

Gyro: Nothing up there, nothing to control.

Gorilla Grodd: Clearly, you will die nonetheless

Gyro: I'm used to fighting weird animal people.

Gorilla Grodd: I will show you my superiority.

Gyro: Bring it on Donkey Kong.

Bane: Bugs get squashed.

Gyro: Fruit gets old.

Bane: I will break you.

Gyro: You’re nothing without that Venom.

Bane: I can destroy you without it.

Gyro: Just try it little guy.

Cat Woman: I’ll steal that belt right off of you.

Gyro: You can’t even if you tried.

Cat Woman: That makes it all the more worth it.

Gyro: Do you need relationship counseling?

Cat Woman: I don't need insight from a kid.

Gyro: I know how you can seal the deal with Brucie.

Poison Ivy: All men are the same

Gyro: A lot of villains in my world think the same way.

Poison Ivy: Doesn't make them any less wrong.

Gyro: I’m gonna break your green thumb.

Poison Ivy: The Green is stronger than you could possibly imagine.

Gyro: I’d say I’m pretty imaginative.

Cheetah: I’ve never seen prey like you.

Gyro: Who says I’m prey?

Cheetah: When you’re but meat on my claws.

Gyro: There there, good kitty.

Cheetah: I am no mere house cat.

Gyro: You’re as harmless as one.

Vixen: So do you really have bug powers?

Gyro: Depends on what powers you think a bug has.

Vixen: Well that’s different.

Gyro: I know a lot of people on my world like you.

Vixen: There’s only one me here.

Gyro: Yeah your powers aren’t that intimidating.

Dr. Fate: You’ve defied fate once before.

Gyro: It was necessary.

Dr. Fate: I will be the judge of that

Gyro: Magic was never my thing.

Dr. Fate: It takes eons of discipline and training.

Gyro: Kicks just feel so much better.

Swamp Thing: Are you friend or foe?

Gyro: Friend, hopefully.

Swamp Thing: The Green will decide that.

Gyro: I can’t stand those who stand back and do nothing.

Swamp Thing: I only do as the Green commands.

Gyro: You have to take matters into your own hands.

Deadshot: Still not use to killing kids.

Gyro: you can stop killing altogether y’know.

Deadshot: Not happening.

Gyro: You don’t hold a candle to Sanguine.

Deadshot: What kind of name is Sanguine?

Gyro: Never mind shouldn’t compare you to my nemesis.

Atrocitus: I feel rage burning within you.

Gyro: Nope, just buffalo chicken pizza.

Atrocitus: Do not deny your anger.

Gyro: You do the color red a disservice.

Atrocitus: I’ve been a Red Lantern eons before you were born.

Gyro: Guess we gotta throw down for dibs then.

Captain Cold: My gun can stop the Flash

Gyro: I also have fire gauntlets

Captain Cold: Can they handle absolute zero?

Gyro: You have a chance to be good.

Captain Cold: Sorry, like stealing too much.

Gyro: I gave you a fair chance.

Dr. Freeze: I must bring back my wife

Gyro: She wouldn't want you to do this.

Dr. Freeze: You nothing about my pain.

Gyro: Please let it go

Dr. Freeze: I can bring back your mother with this too

Gyro: I won’t tell you again.

Scarecrow: I know what you fear most.

Gyro: So what big guy?

Scarecrow: I will use it to destroy you.

Gyro: My fear makes me stronger than you.

Scarecrow: You fear losing the ones you love.

Gyro: I will protect everyone with my power.

Joker: I hate you goody-two shoe types.

Gyro: How about I kick you with those shoes.

Joker: Your material could use more work.

Gyro: I will make you regret every crime you committed?

Joker: With what, the power of friendship?

Gyro: That and a proper ass whooping.

Brainiac: Your powers pique my interest.

Gyro: No way you’re getting a hold of the Pathos Drive.

Brainiac: I must add you to my collection.

Gyro: You will return all the cities you stole.

Brainiac: Who do you think you are to command me?

Gyro: The symbol of freedom.

Darkseid: What manner of creature are you?

Gyro: The world’s upcoming strongest hero.

Darkseid: I will crush you like an insect.

Gyro: Maiden Heaven was more intimidating than you.

Darkseid: You will kneel at the sight of Darkseid.

Gyro: Can’t be afraid of someone who talks in third person.

Red Hood: All those weapons and no guns.

Gyro: I got a bow, does that work?

Red Hood: Okay Red Arrow.

Gyro: You need to stop the killing.

Red Hood: I don’t touch women and children, that’s the rule.

Gyro: That doesn’t excuse everything.