#leland coil

[d0xxxy]

[pinkartwitch]

From that corner came a sudden eruption of magic followed by the coughing of two small children. Frigga quickly glanced at Marcus who released her, and she rushed to investigate. She was joined by Sapphire as the two children crawled out from the table, thankfully uninjured but Leland was covered in some sort of neon blue dust, like it had exploded in his hands. It painted the entirety of his pastel blue button-down, his palms, most of his face, and some even settled into his mop of red curls. Celeste, though less affected, was spotted with a significant splatter of blue down the front of her pink dress as well as in her black coiled buns. “Something magical happened!” she cheered between giggles. (Blood and Thorns Chapter 7)

As part of my goal to illustrate a scene from every chapter of my book, I present to you these ragamuffins. This was the first time I’ve had to draw actual children and I had a lot of fun with it. Celeste and Leland are interesting characters for me because they are so young and I don’t interact with kids a lot. They both play important roles in the Blood and Thorns books, though, so I thought I should give them a bit of attention. ✨ Those of you who know my writeblr @pinkchaosstories may know that Leland features in a sidefic I've posted on AO3 - check it out for some cute, feel-good vibes.

[novaalexanderwrites]

Blood and Thorns - Chapter 7 (part 1)

Chapter 7 (Part One): Parties and Invitations (Read Chapter 1 (part one) here) - (See here for a complete list of chapters) **Updated with minor (though important) changes April 30 2023

Just a quick Author’s Note: if you’ve read B&T on other platforms, you might notice these parts going forward will be different. I’m currently going through another round of editing! Thank you everyone who’s read any part of this and please leave your feedback/comments and/or like/share/reblog/etc. 😘

   The Magnus-Monroes hosted the engagement party a week after Frigga’s birthday. It was small, just the coven members and their families, and much more relaxed than the formal ball had been. It was a calm environment, the witches mingled easily, mostly talking about their own magical work or some work that was going on as the summer solstice neared. Frigga and Marcus were arm in arm, accepting congratulations from different members, and Frigga was in a good enough mood that evening that it was almost nice. Everyone had something to say, mostly about how good the match would be for everyone and how they were relieved for Marcus to finally settle down.

  In between the well-wishes, Marcus would lean into Frigga and crack some joke or make an observation. After Victoria Bloodswell had politely and somewhat coldly congratulated them, he took the opportunity. “That woman is almost as scary as your aunt. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s turned into a ghost herself. Should we ask the Blackwoods to hold a seance the next time we need to hold a business meeting?” He stuck the tip of his tongue out and winked.   Frigga giggled, lightly slapping Marcus’ arm that linked with hers. “Shush, she’s just like that. She’s not my aunt’s biggest supporter.”   “Really? I had no idea! I thought she constantly looked like she was trying to explode your aunt’s brain telepathically for fun,” Marcus teased.   Anyone who saw Victoria Bloodswell interact with the Thornehearts would see the bad blood. Something about leadership being stolen from her family, blah blah blah, generations ago founders did a thing, et cetera. It was all very abstract, and Frigga wasn’t sure there was any truth in such claims as the family had never been able to produce sufficient proof to back them up.     She briefly looked around the room, taking in the scene. Who hadn’t they spoken with yet? They’d seen the Morgansons and Cromwells, Ophelia and Aphrodite Rynauld were in a lively conversation with Morgan Blackwood about something, and the Downspires were in the middle of searching for their youngest daughter who, Frigga was pretty sure, was hiding under the table with Leland in the opposite corner of the room.   It was cute, actually, Leland’s friendship with Celeste. She was about a year older than him and was quite gifted. Leland had some kind of crush on her. Frigga couldn’t blame him, she was a cute kid, and it was honestly good for him to be around someone his age who was magical. He wasn't very interested in the comings-and-goings of the coven, so being around Celeste was a good way of getting him involved in the group’s social life.   A small exploding noise followed by surprised yelps and coughing of two small children captured Frigga’s attention. She quickly glanced at Marcus, who nodded and released her to investigate in the other corner of the room. She was readily joined by Sapphire as it sounded like Leland might be hurt. But when the two children crawled out from the table they were uninjured. Leland was covered in some sort of neon blue dust, like it had exploded in his hands. It painted the entirety of his pastel blue button-down, his palms heavily coated, most of his face, and some even settled into his mop of short red curls. Celeste giggled, less heavily affected though was decorated with a significant coating of blue down the front of her pink dress and in her black coiled buns as well. “Something magical happened!”   Sapphire and Frigga looked from Celeste to Leland who laughed in a carefree way, who was starting to get to his feet. “She was showing me her conjurations, and I wanted to try!”   “Wait, Leland, did you do that?” Sapphire asked breathlessly, grabbing a napkin from the table they’d crawled out from under.   “Yeah, it didn’t go very good! It exploded!”   The room froze when everyone heard Leland’s explanation. And then Aurora Morgansons began to excitedly clap closely followed by the rest of the guests, and Frigga and Sapphire gathered Leland up in a big hug, his aunt planting a kiss on his cheek much to the young boy’s obvious embarrassment. He had finally confirmed it: he was a witch and Frigga was ecstatically proud of him.   Once the applause died down, Frigga took her brother to get cleaned up while the party continued on, more excitedly and energized than before. It was rare a youngster would be confirmed around so many people, but everyone had been privileged to see it. It was a happy thing.   She carefully led Leland to the nearest powder room and had him sit on a chair after making sure he wouldn’t accidentally ruin it with the blue dust. “Hang on, I’ll get us a towel or something.”   “Sure, thanks Frigga.” The young boy peered around the room curiously, his legs kicking the seat.   She found a rag, dampened it, and pulled up a stool next to him to start working on the stain. “This is exciting, huh?” she asked cheerfully.   Leland shrugged. “I guess, but I don’t think it matters.”   His sister frowned and looked at his face. His complexion matched hers, pale skin littered with freckles, but he had their father’s brown eyes. He looked a lot like their father, actually. “What do you…why do you say that?”   Leland laughed, as if the answer was obvious. “Auntie already said you had to be the next heir, right?”   Frigga shrugged, rubbing forcefully at his shirt sleeve, checked to see if she was making any progress, and winced slightly because there was absolutely no change at all. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean anything at all. Magic isn’t just for coven work, my magic helps me too!”   Leland rolled his eyes. “But auntie is going to make me study more. I already get so bored. It’s borrrring!”   The stain wasn’t coming out. Frigga scowled at it, her nose wrinkling in frustration. “Yes, it can be. But,” she paused and looked at her brother, a mischievous smile on her glossed lips, “there’s lots of things that make it fun. Want to see?”   Her brother grinned and nodded furiously. Frigga sat up and looked around the room for inspiration. It was a small room, painted soft pink with white crown moulding, shiny marble tiles, and wall-length mirrors. There was also a large painting in an ornate hardwood frame hung on the wall behind the pink velvet chaise Leland was perched on. The painting was of a woodland scene. Someone had fallen asleep in a pasture and was surrounded by all sorts of small animals. It was perfect. Frigga focussed in on a small rabbit in the front of the painting, pointed a finger at it, and released a soft burst of energy at the painting.   It impacted, bursting like fireworks, and suddenly the rabbit began to animate, jumping out of the painting and around the room leaving footprints of blue sparkling light behind it. Leland shrieked with laughter, and Frigga couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s reaction. She pulled a few other creatures from the painting, a bird, a mouse, had them join the rabbit in running around the room and under the chairs, one even hopped into Leland’s lap. His eyes were huge with wonder, and when he went to pet the rabbit, it and the other animated creatures dissolved into white light, reappearing back in their original spots in the painting.   Leland burst into applause, and Frigga nodded in a smug bow. “Why thank you, sir!”   “Cool! Why don’t you do that all the time?”   “There isn’t a lot of practical uses for this kind of illusion, but sometimes if I can’t sleep, I animate a few of the angels on my ceiling to dance for me.”   “You think I can do it too?”   Frigga nodded, picking the rag back up to half-heartedly wipe at the boy’s mussed up face. At least that was coming out though it still left a small tint of blue behind. “I think you can do anything you want, Lee.”   He looked down to where she had scrubbed at his shirt. “You can’t use magic to clean it?”   Frigga sighed in frustration as she finished wiping his face and started at his hair. “No, you can’t clean magic stains out with magic. Or anything it seems. I think you’ve gone and changed the colour of the fabric itself, but I don’t want to mess with it until you’re not wearing it anymore.” She grinned and leaned in close, as if to tell a secret. Leland mirrored her. She whispered, “Wouldn’t want to accidentally explode you.”   Leland cackled. “I don’t think you can do that, Frigg!”   She crossed her arms, a brow raised comically high. “Oh, you don’t do you?”   Leland rigorously shook his head. “Nope!”   “I think I could!”   “Nu-uh!”   “Uh-huh!”   And they had about ten rounds of “nu-uh” and “yeah-huh” before dissolving into a fit of giggles. Frigga knew she was going to be missed if they were gone much longer, but it was nice to spend time with her brother away from it all. And honestly? It was nice to escape from all the social chess she’d had to play all evening. When the siblings calmed down, Frigga sighed. “I think we should be getting back.”   Leland groaned. “It’s boring, though.”   Frigga smiled sympathetically as she stood to hang the rag on a nearby towel rack. “Yes, it is.”   “Isn’t it your party?”   “It’s still boring. And stressful. Just be thankful you don’t have to deal with coven stuff.”   “Why?”   Frigga thought for a way to phrase her complaint that wouldn’t turn him away from magical practice generally. “I love our members, of course I do. And the magic we do is so much more powerful than any one of us can do on our own… But I’m not fond of all the social duties that come along with it, let’s say that.”   Leland nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Do you think Gertrude will make me a cake when we get home?”   Frigga chuckled as she held her hand out for Leland, offering to help him from his seat. “Maybe. Like a birthday cake?”   Leland took her hand and jumped up from his seat. “Yeah, but for magic-day.”   Frigga took a deep breath, steeling herself against the thought of returning to the party. But her chest softened with a thought. “I think I know someone that could do that for you, Leland.”

[meatriarchived]

&. ❛ we’re still friends, right? ❜ / what if i said post game maria and leland... hes worried abt her ): | @lifesver

Oh the way stomach twists and coils and jerks in her gut. His question, posed ever so gently, so quietly, so disheartened...God the nausea. She could feel its heat shoot from deep inside up to her throat. God the question made her ill. Made the views surrounding them blur and angle cock-eyed, furthering the clenching of her insides at the question as the world around them appears to spin and distort in her eyes.

We are still friends? Right?

Maria knew she had been slowly taking steps away from their group in recent weeks, since they were finally sent home after recovering. Seeing them cleaned off, in fresh clothes, bandaged and stitched together as if those would heal the wounds they separately earned in their own minds; she'd thought, when she'd first come to, that they were better off now, that they were fine, they were safe, they made it and everything would be back to normal.

What a joke, hisses a voice at the back of her mind.

Maria looks back up to Leland, to meet his eyes. She can see the way his features twist themselves in worry, and she bites at the insides of her cheek; she's still making them worry over her, how selfish of her.

Lips part to speak yet nothing forms on them. Not for a little longer. But no matter the series of words she thinks to say, to try and avoid the question perhaps, to try and maybe turn this to a brighter topic even, those sour in the back of her tongue - a warning of nausea still lingering. She knows she couldn't get away with doing so, no matter how convincing she may try to come across. Not with Leland.

These last few weeks, she's heard little outside of her head screaming at her to leave. And it truly only was them - Ana, her friends - that kept her rooted here still. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to be alone. ( but you should - so they might stay safe from your stupidity. )

Maria feels his eyes on her still. And she knows she's been silent too long; the heaviness in the air is as persistent and suffocating as these damned voices, the heat in her throat-

"Yes. Yes, we are, Lee. At least, I -... I hope we are." voice hitches in her throat, and theres that all-too familiar sting behind her eyes and she can't stop herself to think before continuing, "I don't want this, I don't want to feel like this is killing us all, we got out, we're alive-," her words are tumbling out now they've started, cracking her voice, hardly giving room to breathe, "-yet I, I feel like I'm rotting from the inside out, and I feel like if I get too close to any of you it'll spread and rot you all too, Lee, I thought when we got back I wouldn't still be scared yet I still feel terrified-" Maria cuts herself off, a hopeless laugh mixed with the beginning of a sob, and a hand moves up to cover her mouth, stifle them both ( I'm still terrified of losing you all. )

[lifesver]

ana was always pretty good at it. not making him feel stupid. leland tries to smile back at her. it wobbles with the unsteadiness coiled up in his chest.

❝ that's okay, really, ana. thank you. ❞ he doesn't want her to feel like she has to take care of him, or anything. like that's the only reason he'd come here. that he didn’t think about knocking on her door, other days. just to see her. to talk.

to be friends, like they were. or used to be.

but inevitably, she asks him what had happened. which he owes her an answer for. and inevitably, he wants to retreat into himself. wants to disappear. expression goes blank, stony. something sickeningly ashamed burning at the back of his neck. he doesn't mean to, but he flinches back slightly.

❝ nothing— ❞ it comes out defensively, jagged. leland catches himself right away, and guilt pangs across his face. ❝ it was — my fault, ❞ he tries again, dodging her serious look as she carefully turns his face to look him over. he lets her, this time.

it's not fair to her. she knows him better than this; lying won't work. ❝ i'm sorry. i'm okay, ❞ he reassures her, quietly. clears his throat as he gently pulls away to stand again. he palms at his eyes quickly, and ana politely doesn't acknowledge it. leland lets her guide him away from the dogs, and sits down on her couch. registers how tired he feels, through his entire body.

wonders, suddenly — would mom worry? he still feels guilty for leaving without a word. he'd call her later, let her know he would be home in the morning. she would probably understand. and then he'd figure out how to pull himself together enough to get out of ana's hair. yeah, that’d work.

( — then you might consider quittin’ bein' such a goddamn waste of space around here, leland— )

leland blinks fast, dispels his thoughts. watches ana cross back into the room, armed with a pack of frozen vegetables wrapped in a dishtowel, and a mug of something. steam drifts off into the air from the top.

ana parks herself in front of him again, and he winces as the freezing cold touches his cheek, but it soothes the ache into something more manageable. he croaks a little 'thank you' to her, and moves his hand to hold the frozen veggie pack in place himself.

he bites back the impulse to apologize, again — as ana frets over him. like a fucking broken record. sorry for bothering you. sorry for taking up space, i guess. he hates it. it seems like all that wants to come out of his mouth, some days.

her question hangs in the air between them, and there's a sting to the reality of it, isn’t there? the rest of their friend group had fallen apart and scattered to the wind. she's wondering if he's come to her, because there's no one else. he knows her, too.

yes, he thinks — we’re the only ones left. no — that doesn’t change that it probably would have still been you, even if we weren’t.

❝ i don't know, ❞ he admits, gently. his brows furrow down; ❝ i didn’t… really think about it. ❞ maybe that wasn’t the right answer, either. he lowers the makeshift ice pack. lowers his gaze, too. ❝ thanks — for opening the door, though. ❞ a soft laugh, like it's meant to be lighthearted. leland tries to give her something more convincing in the way of a smile. he doesn’t want her to feel sorry for him. or angry for him. like she still has to protect him. get mad when doesn't have the spine to do it for himself.

she has enough bullshit to deal with.

and he wants to talk about something else.

❝ so — what are you, um, reading? ❞ he ventures, after a moment. eyes landing on the book she’d set aside.

the heavy rain raged on outside, as ana pulled leland into the warmth of her home and offering him her previous spot on the sofa. quickly, she busied herself with getting him some tea.

“hi, honey.” her tone inquisitive and worried but a comforting smile cracked on her face seeing him there. if only it was on better terms. “it's alright, really, i wasn't sleeping anyway. i was just reading to the dogs. they like it.” it was always for her own comfort, just as she used to read to leland. it felt like a lifetime ago that they'd spend hours laying in her backyard under a tree, reading and rereading books. ana always overanalyzing them and annotating them. all of her favorite books scribbled in and highlighted, chicken scratch in the margins.

down the hall, into a spare room, rummaging through drawers for some clothes left here from years prior... ana frowned, only a baggy brown t-shirt she couldn't even tell which of the boys it once belonged to anymore.

“i'm sorry, i don't really have any dry clothes for you, i did a bit of spring cleaning a few months back and i must've tossed most—” her sentence fell off as she looked down at him, knelt by maverick with a shining bruise decorating his redden face. eyes softened, a look only leland and maria had ever seen from her. maria reflected on her face in those moments of gentleness, the walls ana had spent years building crumbling down any time lee looked at her.

“oh, cariño.” she set down the shirt and reached out for him, crouching down to look him straight on. “no, no, why are you sorry? what happened?”

leland had never been a burden to her, and despite her attempts at isolation, his company was always appreciated. scarred fingers grazed his face, hovering over the fresh wound while her other rested on his jaw, turning his face to look at the bruise better.

her own jaw went taut, eyes darkened and narrow, but she bit her tongue. it had to have been his father she knew leland didn't need to hear her start snapping about her years-long distaste for cecil mckinney, having rarely heard a tolerable thing about him. it wasn't like she had a great view on her own father. or danny's... or connie's... a general distrust in most fathers was deeply rooted in her chest and this only solidified every hateful thing she'd neglected to shout to lee about his dad. it wouldn't be fair of her to go on a tangent, but someone needed to be angry. ana was angry for leland, she'd always felt a pang of lividness when it came to anyone hurting her friends, felt anger for them, sadness, fear, courage. every emotion they couldn't bear to feel, or were too scared to, she shouldered and carried it for them.

a heavy sigh followed by pursed lips and averted eyes. “sit.” she instructed firmly, but with the compassion he needed. ana stood and disappeared into her kitchen, returning with the hot mug of tea and a bag of frozen green beans wrapped in a dishrag.

“you can stay here until you're ready to go home, however long that is. you know where everything is, make yourself at home.” ana fussed with his face some more, tilting his jaw in her fingers and examining him closer. she rested the bag of veggies on his cheek and met his downturned gaze.

“why me?” she questioned softly, wondering why he'd chosen to come to her, why when he left his house was ana the person he thought to go to. maybe it was just that she was all that was left.

[carnagefacade]

@lobiita (fuck u btw)

death isn't always simple. not always a single bullet, lucky knife to the chest, or even a clean hit to the head. sometimes it was ugly, and oh how this one was. she'd been left for him to find, body most likely cold by time he arrived. a warning some might call it. a suicide request to others. to go after the virus's ' lover ' ( a title some truly couldn't understand because how could something not even human find love ) was a sure fire way to meet death in a matter of days- if they were lucky to last that long.

she's left in a pool of blood. body was... in poor state- most bones visibly broken, crushed and protruding from body. face was bruised, the blood dried, yet in a way that appeared to be tear like in the way it had fallen down her cheeks. the jacket she'd normally have worn- the one alex had given her- was no where to be found. usually that would have protected her. why? because alex was always keeping her safe even when he wasn't there. such a shame she'd chosen today of all days not to wear it; that or she'd forgotten it in her rush to leave home that day.

in hand was a crumpled picture, one she'd forced him to take years back. around the time things finally became real for them. after the uphill struggle their entire relationship had been during the first year or two. image was of her thrown over his shoulders, arms wrapped tightly 'round. a large smile, sparkling eyes- bliss to say the least, written across face. he, of course being alex, looked bored. however, body language spoke enough for her to know he'd been content with the picture and pose. no longer was it pristine, the only blemish a ripped edge after getting caught one day. now, it was coated in blood, dirt, and perhaps dried tears.

loni was dead, truly. left to rot and for alex to find.

    for  the  first  time  in  weeks,  alex  stood  entirely  still.

    it  wasn’t  that  he  needed  rest;  he  had  trekked  mountains,  cleared  floor  after  bloody  floor  of  skyscrapers,  jumped  into  canyons  because  it  was  fun,  but  this?  a  crowded  scene,  police  sirens  &  yellow  tape,  detectives  hunched  over  &  collecting  samples;  an  overturned  bike,  blacks  &  smooth  silvers  scratched  &  splintered  throughout  the  street,  dented  license  plates  flashing  familiar  digits,  chillingly  familiar.  if  the  model  &  color  weren’t  to  arise  dread,  the  license  would,  &  even  the  densest  moron  on  the  planet  couldn’t  deny  the  strands  of  hair  &  blood  scattered  throughout  the  sidewalk.    

    this  was  an  abduction.

    the  sight  chilled  him  to  his  core,  internal  mass  writhing  &  coiling  into  itself,  his  arms  bulging  with  the  need  to  explode  out  &  hit  something;  he  wanted  to  yell  at  someone,  but  wearing  the  skin  of  captain  leland  matthews  had  granted  him  unrestricted  access  to  the  scene,  &  he  couldn’t  afford  to  let  anyone  know  he  was  in  town  or  risk  loni’s  abductors  pulling  something  rash.  captain  leland  would  not  snap  under  pressure,  captain  leland  would  not  turn  around  &  pulverize  the  mass  of  onlookers  whispering  &  talking  &  flooding  his  head  with  nonsense  while  he  needed  to  think,  to  act!

    he  just  needed  to  think.  panic  would  do  him  no  good,  &  the  viral  abomination  had  appearances  to  keep.  for  now,  he  had  to  force  his  arms  to  steady,  to  embrace  the  cold  brewing  inside  &  to  keep  up  appearances  while  he  still  had  them.  he  needed  to  study  the  scene,  &  turn  his  claws  on  whoever  was  responsible.  in time. 

    there  was  no  fight,  no  bodies,  no  pools  of  foreign  blood  littering  the  scene.  she  hadn’t  a  chance  to  fight  back,  hadn’t  dropped  legions  of  her  enemies  before  being  dragged  away,  kicking  &  screaming.  whoever  did  this  knew  exactly  what  they  were  doing,  &  hit  her  hard  &  fast.  she  didn’t  have  many  rivals  with  that  sort  of  firepower,  much  less  the  restraint  to  avoid  putting  on  a  show.  mob  bosses  &  supernatural  criminals  were  an  egotistical  sort,  they  liked  to  send  flashy  messages.  even  loni  didn’t  have  half  a  mind  to  restrain  herself  when  she  had  a  point  to  prove:  the  bigger  she  rose,  the  bigger  the  ego,  try  as  she  may  to  hide  it.

    she  must’ve  sent  the  wrong  message  to  the  wrong  crew.  they  had  to  have  hired  someone  strong  or  persistent,  someone  clean;  scene  aside,  it  couldn’t  be  traced  conventionally.  it  looked  like  she’d  been  hit  by  a  bus,  yet  the  only  trail  present  in  the  mess  was  vague,  microscopic.  blood  droplets  &  sweat  which  could  only  be  picked  up  by  his  extra  senses,  &  a  scent  which  was  quickly  being  masked  by  the  spread  of  onlookers  clouding  the  area  with  their  aromas.  his  eyes  glanced  upwards,  hoping  there  was  a  cctv  camera  around:  nothing,  all  destroyed  by...  something.  something  small,  something  odd,  something  which  had residue  on  the  rooftops.

     interesting.

    captain  matthews  had  to  excuse  himself;  slipping  away  through  the  crowd,  pushing  through  the  cameras  &  questions  with  more  force  than  necessary,  ignoring  the  cries  of  offense  &  pain  all  the  while  he  made  for  the  alleys,  following  that  very  trail  to  the  top  of  the  nearby  buildings.  what  he  found  at  the  top  was  chilling:  two  craters,  spaced  evenly  apart,  as  though  something  heavy  &  large  landed  there.  either  loni  were  abducted  by  a  multi-ton  rottingtaur,  or  something  interesting  was  in  manhattan.

     dropping  his  disguise,  he  leapt  between  the  rooftops  until  he  could  find  a  matching  set,  &  lept  around  again  until  he  found  another.  it  took  about  ten  minutes  to  find  the  trail:  craters  marking  northeast,  distanced  several  blocks  each.  it  would’ve  been  difficult  for  anything  he  were  aware  of  to  make  those  jumps  without  wings,  which  would  have  mitigated  the  damage  to  the  rooftops  if  present.  anything  barring  himself,  of  course.

    yet...  no,  that  was  impossible.  alarming.  thoughts  he  couldn’t  help  but  consider.  blackwatch  was  gone,  the  virus  only  existed  in  himself,  any  traces  of  it  were  destroyed.  he’d  know  if  redlight  or  blacklight  produced  something  in  his  city,  the  hive  mind  would  alert  him  to  it!  something  else  had  to  be  happening,  some  demon  or  bullshit  ritual:  something  in  this  stupid  supernatural  world  had  to  be  behind  this,  &  he  was  going  to  rip  it  to  pieces  when  he  found  it!

    so  he  ran,  he  lept,  he  slammed  into  buildings  &  shook  their  foundations  with  each  dash,  rocketing  through  the  air  like  a  living  cannonball  spurred  with  the  intent  of  an  arrow.  the  air  cracked  &  shifted  as  he  passed  through  it,  the  city  becoming  a  nondescript  haze  beside  him  as  he  soared,  his  hawk-like  gaze  fixated  on  the  next  building,  the  next  piece  in  this  fucked  up  puzzle  until,  nothing. 

    the  trail  reached  a  dead  end.  a  warehouse  in  the  lower  east  side.  a  thermal  scan  showed  nothing,  no  heat,  no  machines,  no  guards.  not  even  a  live  captive,  but...  something  was  wrong.  he  could  see  something  in  the  window,  right  in  the  center  of  the  warehouse;  everything  cleared  save  for  that  speck  in  the  darkness.  eyes  narrowed  at  it,  a  familiar  splotch  of  color  as  a  ray  of  moonlight  bounced  off  a  billboard.  it  looked  like  a  body.  this  had  to  be  a  trap,  but  alex  couldn’t  waste  any  more  time.  

    leaping  in  through  the  skylights,  showering  glass  all  over  the  concrete  floor,  alex  made  his  entrance;  claws  ready  &  eyes  sharp.  yet  there  was  nothing  here,  just  himself,  a  bloody  floor  &  a  crumpled  mess  of  a  corpse:  a  woman,  nearly  flattened,  with  bones  splintering  out  of  her  limbs,  chest  dented  into  itself,  laying  in  a  crater  filled  with  drying  blood.

    alex  took  a  step  forward, mouth agape.

    her  eyes,  those  usually  warm,  oaken  eyes  were  glassed  over  &  empty,  only  the  light  of  the  moon  present  in  them.  she  could  usually  brighten  the  room  with  those  eyes,  warm  even  the  densest  viral  monstrosity  to  his  core  with  a  glance,  though  he  rarely  showed  it.  why  had  he  never  showed  her?

    alex  took  another  step  forward,  trembling.

    her  hair,  usually  long  &  flowing,  looked  like  it  was  ripped  off  her  scalp  &  left  in  shreds:  what  little  remained  on  her  head   was  thrown  around  her  body  in  a  rage.  he  noticed  some  of  it  was  spread  around  the  room,  &  her  scent  flooded  his  senses  as  a  result.  he  could  smell  only  her,  &  blood;  her  blood,  splattered  around  the  room  in  a  gory  mess.  it  intoxicated  him  in  the  worst  ways,  filling  the  monster  with  a  rage  which  shook  him  to  his  very  core.

    alex  took  no  more  steps.  the  room  moved  for  him.

    trembling,  creaking  as  tendrils  from  his  legs  seeped  into  the  foundation  &  took  root:  twisted  vines  of  flesh  splitting  &  emerging  haphazardly  in  the  concrete  around  him,  his  body  unable  to  keep  itself  contained  as  a  pressure  built  within  itself.  his  cool  eyes  disappeared  alongside  his  features  as  his  body  became  more  of  a  human-shaped  coil  of  tendrils,  licking  &  hissing  at  the  air  around  him.  they  spread  everywhere,  from  the  steel  beams  to  the  catwalks,  strangling  this  warehouse  at  the  foundations:  alex’s  hate-filled  mass  going  everywhere.

    a  sound  escaped  him,  hollow  &  reverberating  unnaturally  in  the  air:  more  grief  &  pain  than  anything  remotely  human.  his  tendrils  thrashed,  splintering  the  concrete  &  twisting  the  beams,  the  building  itself  groaning  &  coming  apart  by  the  rivet,  his  agony  growing  by  the  moment,  moans  turning  to  screams  which  cracked  the  glass.  the  skywalks  caved  in,  light  fixtures  &  glass  falling  around  him.  not  a  shard,  not  a  rock  dared  touch  her  body,  for  his  tendrils  formed  a  shell  around  her,  his  angel,  his  hard-headed,  stupid  angel.  not  even  as  the  building  crashed  &  collapsed  beneath  the  strain  did  she  take  another  scratch.

    oh,  loni.

    amid  the  rubble  he  stood,  body  pristine,  not  a  fleck  of  dust  touched  it  after  he  reformed  himself.  his  eyes  were  emptier  than  usual  as  they  stared  at  what  used  to  be  loni  valadian,  the  image  of  her  fate  forever  burning  itself  into  his  mind,  which  even  now  raged  with  the  specters  of  his  sin:  judging  his  failure  to  protect  her,  cursing  their  fates,  screaming  to  just  die.  even  as  he  grieved  his  greatest  love,  he  received  no  respite.  for  what  did  a  monster  deserve,  if  not  agony  unending?

    mercer  ground  his  fists  together,  clenching  his  teeth.  it  didn’t  make  any  sense,  how  did  this  happen?  who  did  this?  they  were  supposed  to  have  time,  centuries!  how  could  he  let  this  happen?  why  didn’t  he  protect  her?  he  could  feel  the  legion  of  devoured  blackwatch  operatives  laughing  at  his  plight,  the  closest  thing  to  a  break  they’d  get  in  their  hells.  but  his  hell  had  just  begun  anew.

    as  did  the  hell  he  intended  to  bring  upon  whoever  did  this.

    kneeling  before  her,  he  tried  to  scoop  loni’s  flattened  body  from  the  concrete,  tendrils  digging  into  the  ground  to  peel  her  body  from  it.  so  much  of  her  was  gone,  there  was  practically  nothing  solid  left  in  her.  all  these  years,  all  their  fighting,  their  growth,  reduced  to  this:  a  ruined  building  &  a  body  hardly  resembling  a  full  human.  what  had  she  done  to  deserve  this?  a  life  of  nightmares  ended  with  a  bludgeoning.  

    as  he  finally  peeled  what  remained  of  her  from  the  floor,  alex’s  eyes  caught  something.  not  a  note  or  clue,  but  something  which  had  suspiciously  survived  this  wreck.  eyes  narrowed  at  the  paper  still  clutched  in  her  pulped  hand  before  softening  as he caught  the  photo.  he’d  nearly  dropped  her  when  he  saw  it.

    of  course,  she’d  kept  it.

    of  course.

    he’d  have  to  tell  ivan  about  this,  &  the  others.  fuck.

    glancing  at  her  face  one  last  time,  something  else  caught  his  attention.  a  sensation  he’d  hadn’t  felt  in  years.  a  nagging  buzz  in  the  back  of  his  mind,  something  which  had  been  silent  for  years.  the  hive  was  active,  a  buzz  in  the  night,  but  it  was  masked,  intelligently  so.  this  wasn’t  blackwatch,  this  wasn’t  a  straggling  infected  which  had  been  buried  in  the  cement,  this  was  intelligent.  not  too  unlike  himself,  but  too  different  to  call  out  to.  it  felt  his  mind,  &  panicked,  floating  away.  but  it  was  there.  he  remembered  it.

    the  parasite.

    the supreme hunter.

    it  was  alive,  it  did  this.  it  killed  loni.

    tendrils  writhed  along  his  back.  a  growl  rising  in  his  throat.

    he  didn’t  know  how  it  had  survived,  or  how  it  avoided  detection  for  so  long,  but  it  was  going  to  regret  being  made.  it  was  going  to  regret  coming  back  to  life.  but  first  thing’s  first,  he  had  a  burial  to  plan.

    fuck.

[marlinspirkhall]

Tomorrow Never Comes, Chapter 06: “Show And Tell”

CW: Discussions of past violence

Chapter Word Count: 3,261 words

[Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]

 A muffled voice. “Jim?”

Footsteps.

 The bedroom door is thrown open, and a mass of dark hair hurtles toward him. Jim barely has enough time to sit up before Spock lands on him heavily, knocking him back onto the mattress. Jim braces himself against the trembling torso, and wraps his arms around him.

 “Whoa- Spock!” He laughs, and pushes himself upright again. “It’s alright. I’m alright.” He pulls back slightly, and runs his hand down Spock’s side, but, of course, the wound from yesterday has completely vanished. He smiles. “You’re alright. We’re alright.” Strong arms embrace him, pulling him closer, and he sinks into them. “You steered us out of danger,” he murmurs against his shoulder.

 “I thought you-”

 “I know. When I woke up, you were injured. I didn’t think you were going to make it, so I- I found enough anaesthetic to knock myself out.” He pauses. “It might have killed me, given enough time- I know non-replicated medicines don’t keep that well, but-”

 “Jim.” Spock presses his forehead against his, and Jim keeps talking, as if he can explain it to himself somehow.

 “- I guess it worked, because-”

 Spock’s lips capture his, and he blinks. He tilts his head, and makes a surprised sound as he returns the kiss. Spock’s movements are slow, well-practised, almost perfectly timed. Jim’s breath catches, and he pulls away.

 “Oh. Okay,” he says, breathlessly. “That’s not the first time we’ve-? Uh? Is it-?”

 “No,” Spock murmurs. His eyes glimmer with something, and he watches Jim. Waiting.

 Jim places his hands against his hips. “Can we-?”

 “Yes,” Spock breathes. They kiss again, and Spock’s hands travel up Jim’s spine, and settle, finally, at the nape of his neck. Jim presses against him lightly, learning the contours of his body, as Spock holds his with a strange familiarity. The tension drops from his shoulders, and he gives in- this, if anything, is the final proof of the prison they find themselves in, not that any was needed. Spock cradles him with expert hands, and knows every favourite spot better than Jim knows them himself. Still, he feels almost as if he’s kissing a stranger, and pulls away before he makes a fool of himself.

 “You’re at a- slight advantage, Spock.”

 Spock looks at him.

 He huffs. “Don’t tell me you knew I was going to say that.”

 A raised eyebrow. “I did not say a word.”

“Still...” Jim glances down, and grabs Spock’s right hand, raising it to his lips. “You’re showing me up.” He kisses the palm, twice.

 “There is no need to be embarrassed, Jim.” His eyes twinkle, teasingly.

 “You smug bastard.” Jim peppers the inside of his hand with soft kisses, and nips at the skin intermittently, as he traverses towards the thumb with gentle lips. “There must be something you’re not expecting.”

 “Mm.”

 “I’ve heard that Vulcan hands are very sensitive,” Jim comments.

 “They are,” Spock says, neutrally.

 “Hm. An erogenous zone, perhaps?”

 Spock raises an eyebrow cryptically.

 Jim splays his hand and begins to kiss between the webs of his fingers, darting his tongue out as he peers up at Spock, gauging his reaction. Spock locks eyes with him, and remains determinedly impassive.

 Jim continues his ministrations, and caresses Spock’s other hand as he goes. Gradually, he kisses the pad of each finger, and rubs small circles into the palm of his hand.

 Spock watches him appraisingly.

 “Well?” He murmurs.

 “It was certainly- nice,” Spock purrs. “But it was not- surprising.”

 Jim narrows his eyes, and pins him to the bed with a chuckle.

*

 The interior of the shuttle is more wrecked than the outside, though the outer armour is dented slightly. They’ve taken slight damage to their shield generators. Jim ventures inside.

The floor around the pilot’s seat is stained a deep green, as is a corner of exposed panelling towards the driver’s right-side. It’s evident that this was the item responsible for Spock’s injuries, and it appears to have been forced open by a minor explosion from within the panel itself. He tears the shard of panelling free so it won’t pose a problem in the future. Of course, it will never have the chance to do that if they can’t get it off the ground again.

 He moves to the back of the shuttle, and places the fallen hypospray back in the medkit. Then, he opens the access panel to the engine.

The warp coil is out of alignment, but, when he goes to reposition it, it snaps in two. He stares at it for a moment, then retrieves the two halves, and moves to the outside of the shuttle, where Spock is puzzling over the broken shield generator.

 “I was going to suggest we give it another couple of runs until we finally got it right, but it’s pointless.” Jim drops the broken warp coil with a reverberating clang. “The ship won’t repair itself. It’s the same as the weapons.” He nods to the empty holster which is built-into the side of Spock’s suit, and slumps against the side of the ship.

 “The warp coil can be repaired,” Spock says, softly, as he sits down beside him.

 Jim shakes his head. “Maybe. But how many times can we repair the ship, really, when we have to salvage replacements?” He nods towards the stronghold with the beginnings of a smirk. “You weren’t exactly thrilled by the new bulb I found for the bathroom.”

 Spock wrinkles his nose. “Perhaps not. But not everything must be done to my taste.” He rests his head on Jim’s shoulder, and the two of them sit in silence for a moment as a cool breeze brushes over them.

 “Spock,” Jim says, in a pinched voice.

 “Yes, Jim?”

 He shifts a little, and Spock looks up.

 “I’ve been thinking; and I know you will have noticed it too- there’s a strange pattern to the things which keep regenerating. We haven’t run out of food rations- not that we need to eat them- and the same fruit appears on the trees every day. Leland and I kept returning when we got killed, only unable to retain any memories.”

 “Yes,” Spock says, patiently.

 “Well, what makes the weapons any different? Or the ship, for that matter? The stronghold?”

 Spock considers for a moment. “They are not made of organic matter.”

 Jim nods. “Perhaps.” He pulls himself to his feet, and offers a hand to Spock. “Or, perhaps, the planet only regenerates things which will prolong our suffering.” He watches the shield generator with a glum smile.

 “If the intention was solely to make us suffer, would it not be more effective to prevent food from regenerating, to prolong our starvation?”

 Jim purses his lips. “Perhaps. But there are other ways to starve. Entertainment. Companionship.”

 “Indeed. Which is why I find it unusual that the planet would allow us to exist here, together, in perpetuity.” Jim’s eyes glimmer hopefully, and Spock looks away. “Even Vulcans experience loneliness,” he justifies.

 “I never suggested they couldn’t,” Jim says softly, and fixes his gaze on him. Spock keeps his own trained carefully on the ground.

 Jim digs into the shield generator with his bare hands. “What if it’s not meant to feel like a trap? Not at first. After all,” his voice is almost hoarse, “Self-replenishing food? For many people, that’s paradise. But, what happened when the battery packs for the phasers ran out?”

 “We found other ways to deal with Leland,” Spock says, with just a hint of humour.

 “Right. But, one day… Theoretically, if we’re here long enough…” He struggles with the shield generator with a grunt. “Axes will blunt. Knives will wear down. We have so many, but those will run out eventually.”

 Spock lifts his hand out of the way gently. “That could take centuries.”

 “Right.” Jim sighs. “Just enough time to figure out a way out of here.”

*

 “Spock, what was the full extent of Leland’s plan?” Jim asks, as they lounge beside each other on the double bed. Outside, the storm rages, but Jim is almost used to it now. Seeing the expression on Spock’s face, he waves a hand at the ceiling. “I don’t mean killing me, but the rest of it- taking down the outpost, the attack on Kronos- how were they going to do it? It could be important, once we get out of here.”

 Spock considers. “Not much was concealed from you. We were to take down the outpost, at which point, we would be joined by a strike team from Section-31, either here, or in space.”

 “One strike team?” Jim murmurs. He thinks of the crates and crates of power packs, and the strange, mismatched weapon on the front of Georgiou’s ship. Retractable, circular.

 Almost like a drill.

He sits up. “They’re going to use the technology they recovered from The Nerada to destroy Kronos,” he realises. “I didn’t see it before- how a band of people so small could hope to launch an attack alone, but it makes perfect sense.” He shakes his head. “What are they thinking? Aren’t two destroyed planets enough?”

Spock closes his eyes.

 “I’m sorry, Spock,” Jim murmurs, touching his arm. He sighs. “It would be a lot easier to work out what’s going on if we knew what was on that ship.”

 He draws his knees to his chest, and listens to the rhythmic beat of rain against the windows.

 Spock stirs next to him. “Ten thousand cc’s of red matter,” he murmurs.

 “What?”

 His eyes flutter open. “The Enterprise was there, Jim,” he whispers. “When Vulcan was destroyed. The Nerada took Captain Pike prisoner, and destroyed every other starship in the system. At first, we could not work out why they spared us, but Nero… Knew me.”

 Jim frowns. “Knew you? I don’t-”

 “The weapons on The Nerada were from the future. But, it was a future version of myself who created the singularity which allowed them to travel through time. And…” He frowns. “He provided the red matter which is necessary to destroy a planet.”

 Jim rests his head on his knees and stares at Spock. Given their current situation, the idea of actual, tangible time-travel isn’t so far-fetched, but he stares at him anyway.

 “In the other universe, Romulus was destroyed when its sun went Nova, and The Nerada was brought through the singularity it created.”

 “Another universe,” Jim whispers.

 Spock nods. “Another me… Whom Nero was determined to get revenge on; for the destruction of his homeworld.”

 Jim frowns. “But- he didn’t do it deliberately.”

 A jerky nod. “He told me it was an accident. Nevertheless…” He rakes a hand through his hair. “When The Enterprise attempted to defend Earth, both were destroyed, and I was imprisoned on The Nerada for three weeks.”

 “With Pike,” Jim breathes.

Spock nods. “And my counterpart.” His hand shakes. “When I arrived, he had already suffered extensive injuries. I melded with him many times in an attempt to save his life, but-” his voice cracks, and Jim places a hand on his shoulder. Spock covers his hand with his own, and continues.

“He perished after three days. He and Pike attempted to protect me, but, once they were gone, Nero was once again free to take his frustrations out on me.” He sweeps his long hair back over his shoulder.

On the back of his neck is the beginning of a scar. It continues under his shirt, and Spock’s fingers fall still against the neckline. He peers at Jim.

A question.

Jim nods, and Spock removes his shirt with trembling fingers. His back is lined with a criss-cross of scars. A long, jagged line runs up his back, and dips down again, like a diagonal “v”. It branches off into smaller lines, some more faded than others, and Jim reaches a hand out tentatively.

 “Can I…?”

Spock nods, and Jim touches the mark gently. Spock tenses.

“Does it hurt?” He whispers.

He searches the wall, a vague, faraway look in his eyes. “It did.”

Gently, Jim traces his hand up Spock’s back, and slides closer to him, placing a leg on either side of his waist. He rests his chin on Spock’s shoulder, and brushes his cheek with his.

“It’s my fault, Jim. The destruction of my home, and yours.”

Jim shakes his head. “No. You only think that because you’ve been told that. You-” He softens his voice. “Nero is responsible for his own actions.”

Spock swallows.

 “Leland was wrong- more to the point, Leland is unhinged. He may blame you for the destruction of earth, but-” he squeezes his hand. “I don’t.”

 “But, a version of me was responsible for bringing the Narada back in time-”

 “It’s not your fault.” He traces the scar on Spock’s neck. “No matter what he told you,” he whispers. “What happened to Romulus was a tragic accident, but, what happened to us- to our homes- was deliberate. You weren’t responsible for that.” He kisses his cheek. “You weren’t responsible for any of it.”

 Spock breathes shallowly.

 Jim bends gently, and places a kiss to the scar on his neck. Spock shivers, and Jim moves gradually lower. He follows the line of scarring down his back, kissing at individual vertebrae as he goes, and Spock trembles.

He rumbles. “Jim.”

“Mm? Oh,” Jim smiles, slyly, against his skin. “So, that surprised you, huh? I guess you’ve never shown me your scars before.”

Spock shakes his head. Jim presses his forehead against his back with a laugh, and projects all the love he feels. His breath hitches, and Jim nuzzles against him. “I promise you, Spock, you’re going to get out of here. You deserve to survive. You deserve to live.”

 He kisses his neck again, and Spock grasps his hands, holding them against his chest and ruminating. Jim sits up slightly.

“Spock. It’s okay. You didn’t kill anyone... You’re no murderer.”

He breaks contact with Spock, and retrieves his penknife from the bedside table. “The last time I saw my brother alive, he gave me this. ‘Just in case.’” His lip quivers, and he looks away, to the drops of rain running down the window. “We were on Tarsus IV,” he whispers. “He tried to steal food for us, on the night…” He sets the knife back down, and a tremor runs through his hands. “On the night that the colonists were killed.”

 Spock watches him.

 “He told me to wait for him, and I did. But I wasn’t the only person who’d found that hiding spot- the office on the ground floor of the embassy. A boy found me. He wasn’t much older than me, but at the time, he seemed so… Threatening.” He taps his fingers against his knee. “He wanted me to leave, and I- I didn’t know what to do. Sam had told me to wait for him, so I…” He motions with his hand, and falls silent. He feels Spock’s gaze, boring into him.

 “That was the first person I killed. Not Kodos. Not one of his personal guards, but a scared boy who was just looking for his next meal. Just like me. And…” He looks at the knife. “My brother.” He takes a shaky breath. “They found Sam after the riots at the warehouse, after the fires and the smoke had cleared. He and a number of protestors had been tied up by a member of the guard detail. With rope. If he’d had a knife-”

 “Jim.”

 “I know; I shouldn’t blame myself. But, I kept that knife. For years, every time I looked at it…”

 Spock nods. “Survivor’s guilt is a powerful thing.”

 Jim settles against him. “I suppose we know that better than most.”

 “I think Sam wanted me to be brave. Like him.

 “He gave his life for yours. It was a gift.”

 “That, and the knife.” He watches him for a moment. “When did you get so wise?”

 He shrugs. “I know something about the things older siblings are expected to sacrifice for their youngers.”

 Jim looks up. “You’re an older sibling?”

 “No.”

 “Oh.” He falls silent for a moment, and traces the lines on Spock’s back absent-mindedly.

 Thunder rumbles outside, and Spock tenses, but relaxes almost immediately into his touch.

 Lightning flashes. Jim thinks about the night that he was struck by it, and nuzzles into Spock’s shoulder. “Meld with me,” he whispers. “I just want to be close to you.”

 Spock turns, slowly, and lifts Jim’s chin slightly. He kisses him gently, and places his hand over his face. “Your mind to my mind,” he murmurs against his mouth.

 Jim slumps.

 He sees flashes of images. Thoughts which are at once fleeting, and familiar. People who he’s suddenly known all his life. Sarek. Amanda. Sybok. Michael. His family, and the terrible pain which accompanies it.

 Sam. Winona. Aurelian. George. Spock’s breath is hot on his cheek. Tarsus IV is mockingly beautiful, the skies overhead a haunting pink, brighter than the rocks on Heirin. The skies over Vulcan burn red as they’re ripped away, and Spock beams onto the ship alone, without his mother. Jim stabs the boy whose name he never learned. Pike tells Nero the command codes to override the Starfleet defence grid, and The Nerada drills a hole through The San Andreas Fault. Red Matter. The singularity engulfs Earth.

 Jim pulls away, gasping, and grasps at Spock’s hands.

 ‘Spock…’

 They’re unmelded, and yet, they talk without words.

 Jim’s first kiss. He places a hand to his head, almost dizzy, and stares into Spock’s eyes.

 A warmth flows down Jim’s spine. He straightens up, and Spock shivers in turn.

 ‘What’s happening?’ Jim grips his arm.

 ‘A bond is forming between us,’ Spock says. ‘If you wish, I could stop it-’

 ‘No,’ Jim says. ‘It’s okay.’

 ‘Our minds will be joined, forever,’ Spock warns.

 ‘Spock,’ As the sensation overwhelms him, Jim struggles to form non-abstract thought. ‘We’re already the only people here.’

 ‘You don’t understand the significance-’

 But Jim does.

 They kiss without touching, the space between them filled with knowledge and words and sensation. He seeks Spock’s body, and phrases chase after him. Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. He gets a glimpse of a hundred horrible, meaningless things- everything Spock’s counterpart showed him, Nero, the torture they endured- and a million pleasant things fight back, a thousand times more beautiful. Happy memories. His childhood on Vulcan, his childhood on Earth, their history becoming as entangled and inseparable as a vine on a tree. T’hy’la. They fall back onto the mattress, and Jim holds two fingers out, and, somehow, knows it’s an ozh’esta.

 Spock joins fingers with him, and he trembles, every point on his body alight with sensation. He twists, and writhes, as Spock presses kisses to his forehead, neck, and shoulders. He doesn’t know if he does it with his mind or his mouth, but his fingers roam elsewhere. Jim can hardly keep track, and he throws his head back and sobs with overstimulation, but he doesn’t want it to stop. They’re caught in a feedback loop of each other’s thoughts and emotions, and Spock’s mind is incandescent.

 You are the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen.

 As are you.

 They fold together, breathing heavily, burnt out. Spock rests his head against Jim’s chest, and Jim holds him protectively. In this moment, he could save him from anything.

 Spock headbutts him gently, as if trying to dissolve into him.

 They fall asleep curled together, their bodies as entwined as their souls.

[Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]

[famous-aces]

Nikola Tesla

Nikola Tesla

Serbian American Inventor, Scientist, and Futurist

July 10, 1856 - January 7, 1943

Best known as one of most brilliant mechanical and electrical engineers in history, an extremely prolific inventor if also a bit of a weirdo (maybe a lot of one). His oddness (in part due to his sexlessness and germophobia) is part of the reason he was not as fondly remembered as his contemporaries until more recently. He was Thomas Edison's rival and superior in maybe everything aside from self-promotion. Invented the Alternating Current, the electric motor, a rotating magnetic field, the Tesla coil, what would become the radio, the remote control, early lasers and robotics, among hundreds of other patents some useful, some incredible, and some bizarre.

Probable orientation: aroace or gay ace (argument could be made for bi ace)

He wrote an entire article on why he wouldn't get married "Mr. Tesla Explains Why He Will Never Marry" (originally published on August 10, 1924). His reasoning then was deeply sexist ("...Felt Unworthy of Woman as She Used To Be, and Now He Can't Endure Her Trying to Outdo the Men") but it was 1924. And his reason for feeling like he had to say something is in the article as well. As the interviewer asserts "WHEN a man who has made a name for himself deliberately chooses to remain a bachelor the world is naturally curious to know what the reasons were that impelled him to this choice." So there is the fact that people were asking him why he wasn't doing "considered the natural thing for every normal man".

There is no evidence of his having romantic or sexual affairs with men or women, but had very close friendships with the former.  A biographer (W. Bernard Carlson) points out that the affection Tesla showed toward other men was more acceptable in platonic relationships in Tesla's era.  Although Tesla described the physical attractiveness of both men and women it seems to be what he was looking for was a platonic/intellectual connection rather than a sexual or romantic one. The thing he seemed to be looking for is an emotional connection, whether that is romantic or platonic can be debated.

I would argue he seemed wholly uninterested in romance and spurned all intimate physical contact. His lack of sexual interest in women and open declaration he would remain a bachelor caused rumors in the scientific community.  He was said to be a voyeur in his lifetime because of his aversion to intimate contact, the idea that he might be entirely disinterested was seemingly not an option. No one had any proof he ever engaged in sex or romance so they assumed he must have been a voyeur. He had to have some kind of sexual urge as anything else would be unnatural.

And some quotes:

"I do not think there is any thrill that can go through the human heart like that felt by the inventor as he sees some creation of his brain unfolding to success, as he watches some crucial experiment prove that through months of waiting and hoping he has been in the right. Such emotions make a man forget food, sleep, friends, love, everything."

-Nikola Tesla, New York Herald interview from 1896 (clearly he is man with other things on his mind. Note he specifically says "love" on his list)

"I have never touched a woman. As a student, and while vacationing at my parents' home in Lika, I fell in love with one girl.  She was tall, beautiful and had extraordinary understandable eyes."

- Nikola Tesla in an interview with a Serbian reporter in 1927, quoted by W. Bernard Carlson in his book Tesla: Inventor of the Electrical Age.  Tesla Seems to be confusing romantic/sexual attraction with aesthetic or even platonic attraction ("understandable eyes" is a very interesting choice of words. He seems to want someone to relate to.). This kind of confusion is common among aroaces, I have found.

"You know it is a good thing that the institute is honoring Tesla in this way—it will go a long way toward diminishing his reputation for voyeurism which was embarrassing the older members. The stories of Tesla's sexual episodes were at one time the talk of the Institute. . ."

-Richard Sogge to Leland Anderson, 1956.  Both of the American Institute of Electrical Engineers

[image description: image 1: a black-and-white photo of Nikola Tesla. He is a white man with very dark hair and mustache. He has full lips and thoughtful eyes.

Image 2: Tesla in his lab. He sits below a wildly sparking Tesla Coil, a wire cage vomiting wings of electricity, arcing strands going in nearly all directions.  Tesla is far smaller than the coil and sits on a folding chair between the arcs. He is calmly reading a book like a badass]

[humandevils]

A  pot  of  water  boils  on  the  stove,  as  if  furious  or  inconsolable.  White  steam  rises  from  the  pot,  coiling  into  the  exhaust  hood  roaring  overhead.  Indignantly,  Leland  fumbles  with  an  unopened  box  of  dry  penne  pasta,  and  it  rattles  as  he  tilts  it,  trying  to  dig  his  nails  into  the  thin  flap  that  reads  OPEN  HERE  in  tiny  capital  letters.  After  a  brief,  yet  humiliating  struggle,  he  tears  open  the  top  ———  and  nearly  spills  the  pasta  everywhere.

Just  as  Leland  catches  the  box  and  frantically  covers  its  wide  opening  with  a  hand,  amazed  and  relieved  at  his  own  luck,  Thana’s  voice  rings  out  over  the  noise.  Despite  the  cacophony  surrounding  him  in  the  kitchen,  Leland  hears  each  word  ———  along  with  the  unmistakeable  bitterness  in  them.

“Yeah,  I’m  making  pasta.  Do  you  want  marinara  or  pesto  sauce?”

He  tilts  the  box  and  pours  all  of  it  into  the  boiling  water,  watching  the  bubbles  die  down  with  each  piece  of  penne  that  drops  into  the  pot.  He  might  as  well  make  enough  for  leftovers.

“And  could  you  set  a  timer  for  ten  ———  no,  nine  minutes?”

their nails drum a careful, patient rhythm on the table. boxes litter the kitchen, living room, @impersonalgod's bedroom in that liminal state of full yet ever a work-in-progress. (they could've packed up a lot sooner. most of it was done in the flurry of their rage. when they calmed, the packing process felt a lot harder.) ❛ i don't feel like leaving, so i'll have the bed. you can enjoy the couch. ❜ sentiment only gave leland so much grace. ❛ are you cooking dinner? make enough for me, too. ❜

[carrietrekkie]

Firelight - Part I  Fire and Ice

Hello Together!

Here is part one of four! I hope you enjoy it, it´s a longer one and there happened a lot in it!

This one belongs to my going-on Pike x Cathrin (OC) Story.

Warnings: Blood, Fear, some way of torture,... I made an extra warning for every chapter!

And if you don´t mind leave me a little FB!

„And today we learn that not everything can produced by a replicator.” Lieutenant Stamets smiled at me, checking another point on his list. I squinted on his tablet, this list seemed to go to infinity.

“Where do you store all that?” I was looking after another pallet of dark grey containers that just passed us by.

“I mean, this ship is big, but that?”

“Much will be exchanged immediately, installed or stowed so that it does not stand out.” He pulled me aside as something was carted past that occupied the whole corridor. “That has to go into the engine room.”

“Aye Sir!”

“Crazy.”

 A few hours ago, the Discovery had docked at a Starfleet utility station since then it has been here like a bazaar.

“Hey!” Tilly just turned the corner. „Have the energy coils already been there?”

“Should have been on one of the last containers.” Stamets looked at his list. “And they should be in the engine room.”

„Great.“ She turned towards me. „Captain Pike wanted to talk to you, he said it´s urgent.”

I shrugged my eyebrows. “What did I do?”

“He didn´t say that.” She smiled. “Any ideas?”

“Not at the moment.” I sighed. „I would say, have fun, but.“ I pointed to another load of spare parts.

“Are you kidding? That’s like Christmas!”

Smiling, I turned around and left the two alone with their toys. What could Chris want from me? Especially what he couldn´t tell me earlier as we had a cup of coffee together. A group of technicians was working on the bridge as I walked across it. I stepped through the doors of the ready room and found Pike sitting behind his desk.

He seemed to read something important, at least he looked like he had had better news before. Even when he looked up and smiled at me slightly, he still looked as if something had grossed his day enormous.

“Okay if you look like that I don´t know if I really want to be here.” I pointed at the door behind me.

“Sit down please.”

“Wow.” I dropped to the chair in front of his desk. “Not even a hello? Did I do something?”

He sighed heavily. “No, but I´m afraid I screwed it up.” He looked at me with an apologetic look.

“And you tell me that because?” I raised my eyebrows.

Captain Pike got up, walked around his table and instead sat down on the chair next to me.

“Captain Leland is here.” I blinked at him, a heavy stone slaped in my stomach. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Leland.” I narrowed my eyes. „Section 31, again.“ I jumped up, he looked after me.„No!“

„Cathrin!“

„I don´t want to talk to him!” I glared at him. The last time I talked to Leland, rather with his hologram, still scared me. I was not keen to meet him in person. “He is a mean and manipulative ass.” Now Chris glared at me. “Yes, I know, he is your friend but he is a bugger.” I made no effort to pack that nicely. “He wants to put me in some lab or something to get out of me what I can´t tell him!”

“I will not allow that!” He raised his voice a little.

“And you think that interests him?” I´m getting a bit louder too. “He would make it an order or bring on any other legal trick.“ Okay, now I´m already too loud.  “I reported Admiral Cornwell anything I know, even as Agent Tyler and I didn´t know how often we both talked about it!”

“I know all this!” I was sure we were heard on the bridge right now. He raised a hand placatory, calmly he looked at me. As he continued to speak, he lowered his voice again.

“Listen, I'm not particularly keen on it either, but unfortunately it was a pretty clear command.”

“Great!” I also tried to pull myself together. „I don´t even belong to Starfleet.“

 I felt a touch on my wrist and winced slightly. Pike pulled gently on my arm, I resisted for a moment, then stumbled upon him. For the first time I wished he would let me go.

“A suggestion.” He swung out of his chair. “We're going there together now, I will not leave you alone and I will not let Leland take you out of here.”

“You had already said that.” Now I felt sorry about losing my temper. It was not his fault and my anger, had met with him the wrong one. The completely wrong one.

“I was not sure if you got it.” He looked at me. “Let us go. Maybe after that the day could get better.”

+++++

„Listen, I can only tell you that again and again.“ I sank back in the chair, this conversation begans to annoy me. “Yes, when I arrived here I knew things into the future for almost two hundred years, but I have no access to it anymore. It´s like something blocking me.”

„But you also said it happened that every now and then somethings came up again.” Leland sat in front of me, as unsympathetic as I remembered him.

“Yes, but that feels like flashbacks. I can´t classify them, much less can I control them.”

“Leland, maybe we should give this thing more time.” Pike had kept his promise, even when Leland tried to kick him out, he had insisted on staying here. Now he was sitting next to me and his presence was the only thing that kept me from freaking out. “Cathrin is still getting used to her new situation and I believe is not an advantage if we push her or whatever else you think of.”

“Time Pike?” Leland smiled wearily. „That´s the only thing we didn´t have.”

“Captain, I would like to help prevent wars and catastrophes, to stop thousands, maybe millions of living beings are dying, but I can´t!” I glanced at him, still the hope in my mind, that he would understood it. “My head doesn´t allow it, no matter how hard I try.”

I stroked my legs, I didn´t want him to see how badly my hands were shaking. This man scared me and that was something I couldn´t stand very well.

“You told Captain Pike what is supposed to be happened in his future!” Leland pointed at Christopher. He sighed and shook his head.

“That was a coincidence, something arbitrary that had resulted from the situation.” I clawed my fingers in the fabric of my pants. Unexpectedly, hidden under the table top, I felt how Chris placed his hand on mine, holding it tight. I moved my thumb over the back of his hand, thankful to have something to keep me calm.  

“It was out of a conversation.” Pike punished his shoulders back. “And to be honest, that wasn´t very groundbreaking findings.“ I could have kissed him instantly for not wanting to beat this battle yet.

 “Forgive me, if I don´t believe you Christopher, but your report on the whole thing, came very late and was quite poor.” Leland rose from his chair, immediately followed by Pike. “But good, let´s try it with time, but don´t think you´ll get so much from it.” Leland stares at me, his dark eyes drilled into mine and I must force myself not to look away. “Find a way to get on that or I will find one.”

Then he rushed off without a word of farewell and Pike and I were alone in the office.

„Well that was lovely.“  Pike turned back to me. I jerked with the corner of my mouth, I couldn´t do more than that at the moment.

“I got a bad feeling about that thing, especially because I seem to be the thing.” I fidgeted for a moment, then stood up. “It´s over.”

“For now.” I put my head back before I let hang it down. “You have heard was he has said, he will not let rest it.” For the first time since I landed here, real fear crept into my thoughts.

“We will find a solution.” Christopher came to me. “We always do.” I gave him a small smile, at least I tried.

“I would like to believe you.”

“You can.” He put his finger under my chin, softly he lifted my head a little then he closed his arms around me. I was totally taken by surprise and almost wanted to wriggle out of his grip again but then I gave in and also closed my arms around him. I laid my head against his chest and heard his heart beat. As he leaned his head against mine I closed my eyes.

“We don´t leave anybody behind and if necessary, I give my life for nothing to happen to you.”

That he had closed his eyes too, I couldn´t see. I squeezed closer to him instead, relishing the feeling that his words had triggered in me. It felt so good to be in his arms as if that was the perfect place for me to be. Each fiber in my body screamed no, as he wanted to let go of me.

“Please don´t.” I only whispered. “Just for a moment.”

I felt him pulling me back into his embrace, his hand moved slowly up my back before he put it on the back of my head, with the other he held me so tightly he could.

"I feel like the loneliest person in the universe and if you let me go now, then I am afraid that nothing will keep me here anymore.”

I felt myself start to shiver but didn´t know if I was just upset or just cold. Maybe everything together or something completely different.

“You´re not.“ Now he pushed me off a bit, just so far that he could look at me. “And if nothing holds you, then I hold you.”

He smiled and at the latest, I no longer had any doubt that his every word was to be taken at face value. And it made the feelings that I cherished for him grow a little bit more.

“How about we leave this hospitable place and get you a big piece of cake?"

I raised an eyebrow. „You don´t know me as good as you think.”

“I´m working on it.” He smiled at me. “But I´m pretty sure about that one.”

“Okay, point for you.” I tapped him briefly on the chest and he used that as an opportunity to release the hug, but somehow I felt, it was just as hard for him as it was for me.

“All right, get out of here.”

“You don´t have to tell that twice.”

++++++++

 We left the office and strolled comfortably through the hectic space station.

“Is it always so busy here?”  It seemed a bit overcrowded given the rather narrow passageways.

"No, this is actually a mere transhipment station, when we drop, the supply ship disappears again and there is only a small crew left behind." He raised his hand to show me the way. "Constantly staffed and research stations are much bigger and better equipped." He looked at me as I sucked in every word he said. "To be honest, I wouldn´t even drink a coffee here."

"I thought that came out of the replicator all over?" I looked at him. "Well, let's say so." Pike grinned widely. "It also has something to do with where the replicator stands and how it is set and apparently they prefer tea here."

"What is left of tea?" "Nothing. If you want some. "

"Uhh. Sounds like a real thrill. "I shook myself. We turned a corner and passed something that looked like the engine room. "Okay, that looks like an antique cargo ship. How old is this station?

"It was one of the first deep space stations." Pike pulled me aside as a technician hurried past with an unknown component. "It's off duty in a few weeks, this is likely to be the last major transaction that is taking place." "Then I can feel really honored."

 Then something crashed and the whole station began to shake. I caught Pike slightly as he stumbled against me, but another explosion almost knocked us both down and he caught me before I got to know the grid.

"What was that?" I looked around while Pike was pulling out his communicator. "Captain Pike to Discovery, what happened here?" "We're working on it, but nothing indicates an attack." Owo's voice came from the device. “We measure increased energy levels and severe disturbances in the supply of the station.”

I heard a painful scream from the engine room. This type of pain sound was unfortunately more than familiar. "Oh my god." I left Pike and ran. "Cathrin!" But I didn´t listen to him, but stormed through the entrance and found myself in the middle of a battlefield. One of the machines seemed to have exploded, in any case it was burning on every corner and the air was filled with smoke. I heard the scream again, looked around and spotted the technician from just under an energy coil. Behind me, I could see Pike storming into the room. "Chris, I need help over here!" I rushed toward the man and dropped to the floor next to him.

 He had a severely bleeding headache, was smeared with blood and was just beginning to fall in shock. The explosion or a falling component had shredded his left leg. "Hey hello." I put a hand to his cheek and forced his attention to me "Tell me your name." I searched for his pulse, he walked frantically and irregularly. "No, don´t get up." Pike was kneeling opposite me and pushed the wounded man down again. "Well, I'm Cathrin and that." I pointed to the captain. "This is Chris." Pike smiled slightly. "And you?" "Darryl." He groaned in pain, then wanted to move again. "You should stop that." I tore open my zipper, took off my jacket and slipped it under his leg, then pulled up my sleeves, knotted, and pulled them shut. "I apologize for that." I handed Pike a sleeve, unsure he took it in his hand. "Pull tight." "OK."

We pulled on the sleeves, Darryl screamed and then started to whimper. But it helped, the blood flowed now much slower. I closed the knot, then let my gaze wander over his chest, a piece of glass stuck in it, near his heart. "Pull 'em out, pull!" Again he raised his head. "No, no, no, no way!" I wrung down the hand he just reached out. "That thing is probably keeping you alive." "I don´t want to die." He started shaking. "My wife, we get a baby." "Darryl." He squirmed in pain, I looked around but could not find a first aid kit.

"I've already requested help, can´t take much longer." Pike looked at me. He just wanted to open his mouth when I held him with a sharp look.

"Darryl, Darryl, listen to me!" I put my hands to his face and leaned toward him. "You will not die here, we will not let that happen! You will survive this, go back to your family and live a happy and long life, and if you don´t listen to me, I let him make an order out of it. "I pointed briefly to Pike, Darryl's eyes followed my finger, then back to me again. "Did you understand me?" "Yes Mam."

"Tell me about your baby." I smiled at him. "Do you know what it will be?" "A boy." Darryl rolled his eyes, slowly it became difficult to keep him awake, blood loss and shock took his toll. Pike reached for his hand. "Nice." I carefully pulled the fabric of his jacket aside. Little blood seeped from the wound, at least externally. "Does he already have a name?" Finally I saw how Dr. Pollard and her team materialized in front of the engine room. "No, we just can´t think of one." Darryl smiled weakly. "Every suggestion my wife makes is worse than the one before." Pike backed away as the doctor finally reached us. "How about Christopher?" "That sounds good." He closed his eyes briefly. “Sounds nice.”

I looked at Pollard. "I could only ligature the wound, there is a splinter in his chest, his pulse is weak and he is just losing consciousness." "Okay, I'll take care of him." Pollard immediately began investigating him, then gave the order and the transporter carried them away to the Discovery. I dropped back and got shaky on my legs.

I barely stood, when another explosion shook the station and the lights switched to red alarm, a siren thundered and everyone who stood hurried to safety.

 "They're evacuating, we need to get out of here right now!" Pike grabbed my arm and together we ran out of the engine room, which was starting to break into pieces around us. On our left side a fire burned, cut our way back to the Discovery.

"Pike on Discovery, two to beam!" We ran further away from the explosion. Lead shattered and forced us to duck. I stumbled and fell to the ground. "Shit!" I looked back, panic crawling through me, like the fire roller just shooting out of the engine room. "Cathrin!" Pike grabbed me under one arm, but the next bang knocked him over too. He rolled away from me and banged his head against the wall. "Chris!" Before I could even think of coming to him, the transporter finally caught us and seconds later we landed on the transporter platform.

"Oh, I'm sure that was more than hair-sharp." I looked back at Tilly, who was pure relief, and grinned at her. "It smells like burnt hair right here?" Then I rolled over and my good mood faded a bit. "Chris!" I pulled my legs up and crawled toward him. "Everything okay?

Dizzy, he sat up, I squatting and helping him get into a fairly upright position. Then he started to get up and I followed him. Slowly and shakily, he came to his feet. He had a violently bleeding wound on his forehead.

"Slowly." I held my arms so that I could catch him in distress. Well, I could try, he would probably knock me over. He blinked in a strange way and whiteness. "Okay, that's enough." I grabbed his arm and put it over my shoulders. "We're going to sick bay." Carefully, I guided him down the steps of the platform. "Tilly, can you announce us?" "Sure." She looked at me. "Are you getting along?" "I think so." I pulled my lips into a smile, then looked at him. "What did you mean Chris?" "I mean, I'm sure I'll have a headache tomorrow." "Tomorrow?”

[lelandwindsor-blog]

demigodlogan

“I like the lake, too,” Logan said, having wandered within a few feet of the boy whose eyes were closed, his hands splayed out in the breeze like a tiny conductor. Logan had seen the newbie arrive and had spent a while just watching him. The boy was incredibly calm about all of this, but Logan could see the tension in him. The coiled tight spring that kept something beneath the surface. Logan knew more than a little about surfaces being deceiving.

The closer he steps towards the water, the more the tide rises to meet him, until the water laps gently over both of their toes, a small cold shock every minute or so. “Hi. I’m Logan,” he extends a hand to shake, canines poking into his smile. There was a wild, frenetic light in his eyes, sea green as the lake behind them and almost luminescent, “I’m kind of excited. You’re new. We’ve had new before, but you’re new, new. We haven’t had a Boreas yet. Camp got bigger. It’s exciting.” The seaborn child broke off after that, almost skipping into the surf, letting water swirl around his ankles and calves. He let out a bright, energetic laugh. “Favorite thing so far, go!” Logan said, not giving the boy a chance to refuse. Like the tide, he’d pull him in, relentless in his single goal.

The voice startles him. Eyes blow open, wide and dilated for a moment, as he turns quickly to face the voice. “Fuck!” He shouts out as his hands fall to his thighs and he leans forward to let out a little laugh, breaths coming a little shallow from the brief fright that crawled up his spine. “Sorry, wasn’t paying attention to anything other than...well, being in the moment.” He stands up, straightens his posture, and looks from the lake to the other. 

The first thing he notices is how the lake seems to ebb and flow with each footstep the other takes, then the matching color of his eyes. They’re both standing on the shore, but the waves slowly make their way to splash over their toes. He grins, lopsided and boyish, and takes the extended hand in his. “I’m Leland.” 

It probably should intimidate him that he’s the first son of Boreas to enter to the camp, to be awakened or whatever it is they call it. And it is. There’s something in the pit of his stomach that feels like acid ready to turn his insides into ash. The weight of prove himself worthy and you’re the only one they’ve met is met with the fact that there’s no name to live up to, no expectations to be as good, or better, than anyone before him. He gets to set the bar and just...prove himself to himself and his father. “It is exciting, mostly. Intimidating as fuck, but exciting.” He pauses for a moment. “Have you been here—” Before he gets to finish his question the other is wading into the water, a question dancing off his tongue loudly. He fumbles for words for a moment before he answers with the first thing that pops into his head.

“Definitely not the ambrosia I drank last night!”

[deputy-marshal-avery]

Underdog | Cait & Leland

Smokey’s was two things. First it was a homely and half decent bar in Chicago that did enough business to keep afloat. However it had second function in the seedier parts of Logan Square. It was host to a rather populated underground fighting ring, that sat beneath it’s fake varnished wood floor in a concrete covered basement. The set up was simple, one large and falling apart boxing ring surrounded by benches and a small table serving booze. On Saturday nights, as the moonlight reached a midnight apex, it came alive and so did Leland Avery.

Today was quite the night, the smell of booze hung in the air while raucous conversations echoed out through, money being passed like a donation drive, as bets were made and hands were shaken. On the average night, you could make three hundred bucks from a win, not that Leland was there for that. The money was helpful but only insofar as given him something to blow freely without consequences - normally on rum.

The heat clammed around Leland as he stood in his wife beater vest, belt off as per the rules (a few years ago apparently a man used one like a whip during a fight). It was his turn to go. He stared at the dimly lit stage, rolling bandages tightly over his fingers. Even now, outside the ring, he could feel the adrenaline start to build, and light came to his dark eyes. This was it, and the electricity of excitement crack between each of his knuckles at the memory of what this would bring. He would win, or he would take the blows, but either way he’d leave with a smile on his face.

“Gentleman! We’ve got some old favourites here today, squaring off for a second time. First our beloved Champion, the former navy Seal and a Goliath in his own right, Colton “The Mountain” Jones!”

WOOOOoooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOO!

The face that ducked under the ropes was a familiar one. Colton Jones wasn’t a pretty man - his face had clearly being punched into something resembling a bruised apple, and his nose was so off centre you’d wonder whether it had been broken, or ripped off and stuck back on badly. But by god was he big. He stood a head taller than any man in the basement and even with the high ceiling, he would likely reach the top without much effort. It wasn’t just his height either, his muscles bulged in his tshirt and his calves were large enough to feed a family of eight. He truly was a mountain, and last time Leland had faced him, he’d nearly sent him home in a body bag. But that didn’t deter the Marshal. You didn’t get into the line of work he did without some big balls.

Plus this time he had a strategy, and some extra anger to let loose. “And second, our crazy, unrestrained uncle that’ll still be coming here even with a zimmer frame.”

The crowd gave a collective laugh, the referee giving a smug look at the attention. Leland licked his lips and cracked his neck as he thought about giving that man his own beating. Other than the peppering of grey in his beard sometimes, he surely didn’t look that old?

“It’s Dale “Dallas” Lee!” The applause was still there, though not as loud as for Colton. Not that Leland gave a shit, but he’d somehow become a sort of legend in these parts on the simple fact that he’d been doing it for years, that and he won even when people thought he had no chance. A mix of having a love for pain itself and being agile from all his years of fitness in both the army and the deputy marshals was the key to his success. It felt odd to have people know you by a different name, but it wasn’t like he really cared about any of these guys, they were just the tool for his own desires, just like he was their entertainment.

He didn’t show off like Colton when he entered the ring, simply getting himself in fighting stance and doing a small hop to make sure his body was warm and ready.

“Ready?”

Two nods.

“Fight!”

Colton didn’t hold back. The first fist came out almost immediately, but unlike last time, Leland was ready. He ducked his head neatly under the jab, throwing in a punishing hook into the mountain’s side. It was like hitting concrete. His opponent showed no sign of hurt and his skin barely moved but Leland knew in a fight it didn’t matter. Just because it look like it didn’t hurt each punch would add up.

He hopped back, putting distance between them as they encircled each other. Leland kept his eyes on those deadly looking fists, as he made sure to not get too close to the ropes.

The next encounter hurt more, as Colton charged forward, reminding Leland quickly that this wasn’t a boxing match. The giant fighter seized Leland’s waist, trying to push him to the ground. The air pushed out of marshal’s lungs from the impact, but he fought back immediately, his knees coming up to slam into Colton’s stomach. His elbows joined in too, battering at the man’s face.

His knuckles began to sting, but it only spurred Leland on. That pain, he lived for it, each small drop brought him closer to the feeling he desired. The one that kept him going.

But he was up against the mountain, and even those sharp blows couldn’t stop Colton throwing Leland to the ground, lifting him up and tossing him to the other end of the ring like a barbie doll. His back slammed into the hard leather, Leland arching in as it reminded him how old his was.

There wasn’t much to think about before Colton was on top of him, ready to start bloody murder. It was a repeat of their last fight, and he knew what was coming. But as Colton stranded him, pushing that heavy weight onto his stomach, there was only a manic look on Leland’s face that made even the mountain pause.

It was only a moment, and then the first hit came down. He could smell the blood as it dripped down his nose, licking it as it touched his lips. Pain. Agony. His body tensed with it, coiling as a shock of sharp neural impulses shot through his muscles and mind.

Another punch and he could feel his jaw click, as bone feebly took the impact. Now the blood was in his mouth, pooling among his teeth. But when Leland looked up he no longer saw Colton “the mountain” Jones. He saw a man in a mask, light blue eyes piercing through the slits of the balaclava.

Freeze!

Leland!

Bang! Bang…

His stomach burnt in memory, as his blood raised and suddenly his eyes saw nothing but red. All that echoed in his mind was the screams of a crying girl, all he could see was her being dragged away by the man with the blue eyes, and the blood. His own blood, spilling through his hands as he held onto parts of him that were never meant to be held.

He felt the unshakeable, relentless, berserk rage fill his whole body. The anger he had felt in those moments, that poisonous, frenzied hopelessness that drove a storming resentment in his veins. It had the power to make a man do stupid things, or in Leland’s case bestow on him a temporary insanity that made him do the most unpredictable things.

A bellowing roar, the kind belonging more to an animal than human, rang out in the ring as the laughter died a moment and all eyes lay on the stage to witness what was about to happen. The mountain’s fist hovered in confusion as spittle launched into his face at Leland’s cry, but he didn’t have time to wipe it as suddenly the deputy’s head came careering into his own.

Their heads smashed like metal plates, not that Leland could feel the pain anymore, completely lost in his own torturous memories. The impact was sudden enough to send Colton leaning backwards, which gave Leland all the space he needed to slip his legs out and kick the man off him.

Colton seized his likely ringing head, blinking from the migraine that was forming as he didn’t have time to see a unstoppable Leland. The nimble older man wasted no time returning the favour from behind, leaping to launch his entire body at the other fighter. Even at his size, the mountain couldn’t take the full weight of another man, and they both toppled to the ground, but with Leland on top.

The rest was just a blur to his mind. His fists went wild, hammering over and over again, the initial pain as they crack along Colton’s already broken face lost in the slick blood that began to cover them. He wasn’t even thinking where he was striking - eyes, nose, mouth, it was all the same. He didn’t know how long he was punching the daylights out of the other man before a few regulars jumped into the ring and dragged him off.

The whole basement was completely silent. Colton lay almost still, the ring covered in splatters of blood. The referee charged forward, immediately muttering to the mountain and checking his pulse. Finally there was a cough and Colton stirred, groaning and rolling to his side, to which there was an audible breath of relief.

“The winner is, DALLLLLAAAS”

The crowd erupted. It wasn’t necessarily applause so much as reaction, grumbles of loss, hurrahs of surprised victory against likely bad odds and general discussion. He had just upset the Champion.

Leland paid near no attention to any of it. They let him go, focused on dragging Colton out of the ring while he was left standing, blood dripping down his nose still, knuckles numb and unmovable. He took a breath, looking around at everyone their gazes expectant. They wanted a show, for him to be victorious. But the man he wanted to kill just then was still alive, and now the pleasure was simmering his body simply wanted more and there would be none tonight.

Despite everything Colton wore him down enough that this would be a decent end to the evening. With a small breath, he shifted to the ropes and ducked out, moving to a small nearby bucket to wash the blood off his knuckles.

In the ripples of the bucket, he saw himself. Beat, bloody but more than that. He looked empty. He laughed weakly to himself. His voice was a whisper.. “All hail the new champion.”

@caitriona-byrne

[firstchinesebbq]

Best Kitchen Faucets 2021 Reviews By Wirecutter – Consumer Reports

A kitchen faucet is one of the most used items in your kitchen. It is used when we are preparing our meals, washing the utensils used during dinner, and cleaning our kitchen sink. Choosing the best faucet for your kitchen sink can be challenging at times.

You must keep in mind that when you are going to buy a kitchen faucet, you must check its functionality, water pressure, and even its design if it complements or not the aesthetic of your kitchen sink.

We have listed down below the top eight best kitchen faucets Wirecutter that you can find in the market.

Top 8 Best Kitchen Faucets 2021 Consumer Reports

1. Moen 7594ESRS Arbor Kitchen Faucet

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There are instances when our hands are dirty, and we want to wash them on the kitchen sink, but we do not want to touch the faucet because it might get dirty as well. Moen produces a faucet where you do not need to touch it when you turn it on since it has a sensor that will control the flow of water.

All you need to do is wave your hand on the sensor then the water will turn on. Another great thing about the sensor is it will recognize if you put a cup under its spout. It will automatically shut off after you remove the cup under it.

You can also manually control the temperature of the water flowing on it with the help of its handle.

Pros: You can control when to start and stop the flow of the water without touching it and by just simply waving your hand on top of it.

Cons: Some users commented that this faucet does not have a long lifespan.

2. Delta Faucet Leland Single-Handle Touch Kitchen Sink Faucet with Pull Down Sprayer

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Delta Faucet produces a faucet that has a nozzle where the stream of the water is adjustable. You can choose to put it on a spray and rinse setting. The spray function can be used to clean tough stains on your dishes.

It also has a pause setting where you pause the flow of the water, and this will allow the water to maintain its temperature. With this setting, you will not need to manually control the nozzle for you to turn on and off the water. It will let you conserve time and water at the same time.

The faucet will turn on even if you use any parts of your body since it has a single-touch operation feature. It is a great thing, especially for those with limited abilities with their hands.

Pros: This faucet comes with a powerful spray nozzle.

Cons: You cannot use the rinse and spray function at the same time.

3. Delta Essa Single Handle Pull Down Kitchen Faucet

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This faucet from Delta Faucet is so easy to install in your kitchen sink. It was specifically designed to fit in a single-hole or a 3-hole sink. Once the faucet is correctly installed in the sink, the swivel function of the faucet can now navigate all throughout the sink.

It also comes with a MagnaTite Docking that has a powerful magnet where you can place the sprayer. This will let your kitchen sprayer be on its dock whenever you are done using it. The magnet is so strong that you do not need to worry about your kitchen sprayer drooping down. 

You can also clean it with just a touch of your finger. It has a Touch-Clean spray hole that will help you in quickly and easily removing away lime build-up on the faucet. This will save you a lot of time, and your faucet will not be exposed to chemicals.

Pros: This faucet has very neat features.

 Cons: Only the exteriors are made from stainless steel.

4. WEWE Single Handle High Arc Brushed Nickel Pullout Kitchen Faucet

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The WEWE Single Handle High Arc Brushed Nickel Pullout Kitchen Faucet has a design that is pleasing to the eyes. It can be a great touch to your kitchen sink since it is not just beautifully designed, but it can also perform different functions.

You can now reach hard to reach areas of your sink since the sprayer can be pulled out from the body of the faucet. It also snaps back quickly to its place since it has a magnet on its dock. The magnet will hold the sprayer and will not loose down.

The sprayer has three different settings that you can choose from, the stream, pause, and spray. These settings will help you in cleaning different types of dishes. The spray setting can remove tough food stains stuck on your dishes, while the stream is excellent for rinsing off soap residues.

Pros: This faucet is made up of high-quality stainless-steel material.

Cons: It does not come with a hands-free setting.

5. Keonjinn Stainless Steel Kitchen Faucets

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If you are looking for a great kitchen faucet that you can place in your sink with a great design, then this faucet from Keonjinn is the one you are looking for. It is a kitchen faucet that is made from heavy-duty stainless steel.

The nozzle of the faucet has three settings, steam, pause, and spray. If you want to fill up a bucket, then choose the stream setting. The spray setting is excellent for cleaning dishes and pans, and it can rinse up soap residue.

You can also switch the temperature of the water from hot to cold by turning its knob. The high arc of the faucet can also be moved in different directions. The faucet is also easy to clean, and all you need to do is to gently rub it off using your fingers for the dirt to come off.

Pros: You can switch the temperature from hot to cold.

Cons: The hose of the faucet is not that long.

6. Amadi Contemporary Kitchen Sink Faucet

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This stainless steel faucet is excellent for those who are on a tight budget. It has a high spout that is a great help when you are cleaning or filling in water pots that are bigger in size.

It comes with different features that are really helpful in our daily lives. It has stream water and an additional sprout that can spray water, and it can work simultaneously at the same time. It also has a rubber nozzle that will hinder the lime from building up on its spout.

Its single handle will let you control the spout with high precision. The open coil spout, on the other hand, can swivel for up to 360 degrees and will let you point it from one side of the sink to the other.

Pros: This faucet can add a modern touch to your kitchen.

Cons: Some users are saying that this faucet is kind of small compared to other faucets.

7. Fapully Commercial Pull Down Kitchen Sink Faucet

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The Fapully Commercial Pull Down Kitchen Sink Faucet is designed to last for an extended period of time. It is made up of durable materials that can stand the rigorous activities of a busy daily kitchen. The metals used in producing this faucet are rust-resistant. Even its outer tubing is made up of stainless steel.

It is easy to use as it has a pull-out spray that comes only with a single handle. The handle will let you control the volume of the water and its temperature. You can also change the direction of the spray from one side to the other without any hassle.

This faucet will be a great feature of your kitchen since it gives off a contemporary industrial feel. It can also fit into sinks with only one hole and sinks with three holes.

Pros: This faucet comes with a much cheaper price tag.

Cons: Some customers commented that its parts are hard to replace.

8. Delta Faucet Kate Single-Handle Kitchen Sink Faucet with Pull Down Sprayer

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It is a faucet that is resistant to spots, fingerprints, and scratches thanks to its high-quality stainless steel body. Even bacteria, grime, and soap will not stick to its exteriors. It is also easy to clean, and even if it is used frequently, it will not easily damage.

One great feature of this faucet is that it comes with a built-in soap dispenser. It is also refillable, so you can now get rid of your bar soaps or any liquid soap bottles that are cluttering your kitchen sink. You can use any type of dish soaps with this dispenser.

This faucet also comes with a lifetime warranty that will protect your faucet even from any kind of leaks. It is guaranteed that it will give you a lifetime of leak-free performance.

Pros: This faucet is guaranteed to be leak-free.

Cons: It is not hands-free and does not have a built-in sensor.

The post Best Kitchen Faucets 2021 Reviews By Wirecutter – Consumer Reports appeared first on First Chinese BBQ.

source https://www.firstchinesebbq.com/best-kitchen-faucets/

[wilmingtonhomeservices]

DECLUTTER: HOME CLEANING TIPS IN UNDER 15 MINUTES

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What happens when sudden unexpected guests show up on your doorstep or call just to tell you they will be coming in 15 minutes? You start to hysterically conceal every mess or clutter that you see.

Stop it immediately! Professional organizers have something in store for you to help in this dilemma.

Time-Saving Decluttering Guide

Outdoor mess

You could not be considering the outside of your house, however, it is the very first thing that visitors will notice when they get there. If your outdoor furniture is disarranged, see to it it is straight and cushions are clean. Bring boots and umbrellas inside, return vacant planters and those backyard tools to the garage, and simply coiling your hose pipe will create a big difference.

Living Room Clutter

A lot of cushions and couch covers could look unpleasant, so make sure to fix it before guests arrive. Store extra bed linen in the storage room or utility room as well as clean exactly what’s left. Next off, eliminate the coffee table as well as side tables. Arrange magazines and newspapers and put them in a basket, pile publications on close-by racks or under the coffee table and put remotes, DVDs as well as other electronic devices in the TV console. Provide uneven photo frames a fast repair before doing other tasks.

Guest Bedroom deal

If you took on the coat wardrobe, shut the door and start doing other home organizing tasks. Otherwise, you’ll require another place to keep visitors’ coats and bags. Do away with tidy garments and shoes first, yet leave the dirty clothes. Next off, clear fashion jewelry, documents and other clutter away from the vanity, cabinets or night tables. Bring glass with you to the kitchen area.

 Kitchen disorder

Another decluttering tip is to move your drying out shelf and other unnecessary home appliance on the counters to closets or cellar racks so you have space to prepare food for your guests. Secure the waste as well as recycling (this maximizes flooring area, also), then concentrate on the refrigerator: remove old bills and notes, straighten out pictures and ref magnets. It only takes a few minutes to arrange mail and bring crucial documents to your work desk. Return anything else left on the table to its appropriate place.

Dining room dilemma

Have your partner or children help you clean by sweeping or vacuuming the area as you performed in the kitchen area so you could move your cleaning tasks to the following rooms.

For hassle-free decluttering and home organizing service, call Brunswick Organizing Solutions.

Brunswick Organizing Solutions Leland, NC 28451 910-477-3768 https://www.getorganizednc.com/

Cities Served Leland, Wilmington, Shallotte, North Myrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach, Southport, Bolivia, St. James, Oak Island, Ocean Isle Beach, Sunset Beach, Carolina Shores, Calabash, Castle Hayne, Burgaw – Brunswick and Horry County

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[monsterf-ckerweek]

Persistence of Memory

Fandom: Evil Rating: E Pairing: Kristen/George Summary: Reeling after LeRoux’s death, Kristen finds she might be falling apart faster than a looming threat can overtake humanity. Staring into the mirror, Kristen Bouchard swallowed against the breath that caught in her throat.

She’d had no choice – no choice, whatsoever. The police wouldn’t believe her. Even now, a surge of anger momentarily distracted her from the stinging on her palm, as memories surfaced of how Orson LeRoux had succeeded in convincing an actual detective that Kristen was the dangerous one.

She struggled to control her breathing, nausea overtaking her gut. She could do this…Laura’s surgery had turned out fine, Lexis would be fine, too. That blood coming from her mouth had been a dream, nothing more…

For some reason, her brain chose that moment to assault her with an image of Leland’s sneering face, an expression that screamed his enjoyment in seeing her suffer. That smug look stung more than all the times she had fallen while climbing...what made her really want to scream was how he had even been allowed to keep his fraudulent position despite the incriminating conversation that was played in court - not to mention the ability to somehow remove his voice from the recording he hadn’t even known was taking place.

No, Christ, get it together! She was not losing it. She would find Andy and David, starting tomorrow. She would talk it out, she just had to talk it out. Anything to not be alone with these goddamn thoughts…

Her timer going off on the bureau permeated the silence, as she somehow managed not to jump. Hurrying over to shut off the watch, she wracked her memory for why she had set the timer.

“Damn it, what was I supposed to…”

Trailing off, she froze at the sight of the swirling numerals on the small watch face. She failed to bite back the unbidden snigger of disbelief that escaped her at the ironic similarity to Dali’s famous piece, Persistence of Memory. The melting clocks. She imagined David would see her dream test as a fun trial to test his “visions”…while Ben would likely tell them both to quit playing games.

Any time now, she’d surely wake up. Placing the watch on the bureau, Kristen bit her lower lip at the tiny sliver of motion that reflected across the watch’s surface. No sudden movements. She could deal with whatever this stupid nightmare threw at her.

Blinking, she realized all too soon how wrong she was. In less than a second, she had moved from standing by the bureau next to the doorway to sitting on the bed. The sun had set far enough below the horizon that she suspected the stars might be coming out beyond the window. Overhead, the roar of the train sounded oddly distant. How much time had passed?

Breathing as quietly as possible, Kristen surveyed the shadowy room. Her chest fell at the slither of movement emerging from behind the bedroom lamppost. 

This thing again. Just when had she even managed to fall asleep? Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered a subtle, musky scent.

“I’ll keep my distance for the moment.” That mock transatlantic accent hit her ears, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Not in the mood for scissors.”

The words tumbled forth before Kristen could stop them. “What about your knife? How many times are you going to try to kill me before you realize you can’t touch me?”

“It’s true.” The thing called George inclined its head, stopping at the foot of the bed. “I can’t touch you with violence. You, on the other hand, seem to have quite the knack for it. Truly fascinating.”

Kristen frowned, realizing she could still move – if to a limited extent. Maybe if she screamed, it would wake her up? Or the girls or Andy would wake her up?

Glancing around, she spoke again. “My husband’s going to hear me talking in my sleep. He’ll wake me up.”

The thing grinned briefly at her. “Yes, Andy. Does Andy know about David?”

Kristen rolled her eyes. “He knows about everything, it’s called communication.”

Those amber eyes offset by black leathery skin trained for a split second on what appeared to be her knees before rising to settle on her dark gaze. “But not me?”

“We all dream weird crap.” She shifted the small amount this dream haze allowed, suddenly realizing her skin was itching. Or heating up, she couldn’t tell. 

George hummed, a strangely soothing sound. God, was she sick of being stuck in her own head. 

“Look, I said it before, I don’t know what you want. We both know you can’t hurt me, you can’t even affect the physical worl—“

Her words cut off at a blur, as she glanced up to see George suddenly standing on the left side of the bed.

“I could be like that human, LeRoux.” His tone rung with a low acerbity she hadn’t heard before. “And force the situation…or we could have some fun.”

Kristen’s hands shot up to her neck, as the heat and itching surged ten-fold, encasing her entire upper body in invisible flames. “What the hell are you doing?”

That grisly grin both irked her and pissed her off all at once. “This is all you, Kristen. You beat yourself up over something you knew you had to do. Over thoughts that are entirely natural - the desire to have some time to yourself away from family responsibility, the attraction to a coworker...What if that’s all your hell is…what you do to yourself.”

“What the f—“ She stopped short, as he moved once again, this time re-appearing before she could blink as a lump beneath the duvet. 

Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to keep quiet despite the emerging paralysis. Within seconds, tears welled in her eyes.

Shutting her eyes tight, she blocked out all thoughts of the thing on the bed with her and reminded herself that this was her dream. To wake up, she had to cool down. She had to make the burning stop. Ripping at her top, she gasped at the relief of the cold air on her smarting shoulders. Drawing her knees to her chest, she had her slacks off in seconds…

Okay, right. She just had to take deep breaths and focus on the change in temperature. Jolt herself awake. Ignore everything else…

“Did the scar frighten Andy at first? I understand they cut along the same line every time – did you have all of your girls this way?”

At the sound of that voice, the burning returned with a vengeance, the unseen wildfire lighting a path that began with the branded cross on her hand. 

“Just say it!” Kristen heard her voice shout, as flashes of Orson’s shocked face splattered with blood flitted across her mind's eye, brain feeling like it was unraveling by the second. “Scarred, dirty, maybe I am now. But don’t you ever, ever bring my children into this, you disgust—“

Her mind barely had time to register the tickle of her panties pulled to the side before her limbs convulsed at the sensation of something wet prod at her center.

Kristen once again shut her eyes. Her teeth came down so hard on her lower lip she tasted copper. Still, no sound of her girls’ voices calling for her to wake up. Nor Andy.

Maybe she truly was doing this to herself. Well, damn anyone who tried to convince her that killing to protect her loved ones was wrong. Eric’s mother had killed her son…Kristen killing someone who had already murdered to save her own was no different.

Did they both deserve to burn? Speaking of, Kristen’s limbs suddenly relaxed as she allowed her senses to register the lack of burning. Not a moment later, her relief faded at the realization that the – she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge that it was probably a tongue – still played at her core.

In the next second, her brain betrayed her – admitting to the fact that, compared to the fire from minutes earlier or the threat of severed digits and stab wounds, the languid tingle between her thighs could be worse. 

Well, this was a dream. May as well wait it out and not give in to…

She couldn’t help her sharp inhale, as tepid fingers crept along her left breast, while another hand grasped her hip. Screwing her eyes shut tighter yet again, she refused to risk seeing what was causing those delectable sensations down below. The same pink muscle she had witnessed lick the blood from her severed fingers.

Perhaps primarily because she could already feel a tension coiling in her belly, as that maddening swirling at her center picked up the pace. Well, if this was truly her dream, may as well take it the hell back. 

“Why do you have a saint’s name?” She wondered aloud, moments before gripping the sheets in her fists to keep from keening at the novel sensation that could have been a feather-light stream flowing lazily along the lips of her entrance, so much slower and yet just as infuriatingly delicious as the undulations from moments earlier.

“You tell me.” Came the gruff and only slightly muffled reply.

Already at a loss for a witty response, Kristen once again bit her lip at the sudden flick against that apex of nerves above her opening. Unable to mask the cry into less than a whine, she blinked away the tears that flowed forth moments later. Humiliation or relief, she couldn’t tell. Likely both. She barely had time to draw another breath before the unthinkable presence buried between her thighs began vibrating, sending her over the edge yet again as she recalled the similar vibrations that had accompanied her attacking the creature with the scissors...

“Kristen, what the hell?” Andy's voice along with the creak of the bedroom door opening brought her back to the present faster than lightning. 

“It’s – it’s okay…” she managed before realizing that her center still pulsated, glancing frantically to the side to avoid the harsh light from the hallway. 

Her chest fell, as the numbers on Andy’s bedside clock swam into focus through her tears. Once blurry only because her eyes watered, not because she was dreaming. Suddenly, her muscles felt like molten led, heavier and more drained than she ever recalled experiencing, even after the toughest climb.

Meanwhile, the sticky river between her legs flowed uninterrupted.

[kdulgar-blog]

Cadillac Fleetwood Eldorado Hardtop Coupé 1978 (2296)

Manufacturer: General Motors Company (GM), Cadillac Motor Car Division, Detroit, Michigan – USA Type: Fleetwood Eldorado Hardtop Coupé Series 6E Model 6L47 Production time: September 1977 – September 1978 Production outlet: 46,816 Engine: 6966cc GM Cadillac V-8 425 OHV Power: 180 bhp / 4.000 rpm Torque: 434 Nm / 2.000 rpm Drivetrain: front wheels by double-jointed shafts with homokinetic Rzeppa joints Speed: 181 km/h Curb weight: 2310 kg Wheelbase: 126.3 inch Chassis: GM E-body platform ladder type frame with welded in crosmembers and separate all-steel body (by Fleetwood) Steering: ball bearing Saginaw variable-ratio power Gearbox: GM Turbo Hydramatic THM-425 three-speed automatic transmission / all synchromesh / steering column shift Clutch: not appicable Carburettor: Rochester M4ME 4-barrel Fuel tank: 102 liter Electric system: Delco-Remy 12 Volts 75 Ah Ignition system: electronic Brakes front: 10.98 inch vented hydraulic discs self-adjusting type Brakes rear: 10.98 inch vented hydraulic discs self-adjusting type Suspension front: independent lower longitudinal torsion bars, trapezoid triangle crossbars, link type sway bar, electronic level control + hydraulic Direct-Action telescopic shock absorbers Suspension rear: beam axle, four-link system, lower longitudinal links and upper braces, longitudinal low trailing arms, electronic level control, coil springs + hydraulic Direct-Action telescopic shock absorbers Rear axle: live Differential: spiral bevel 2.73:1 Wheels: 6JK – 15 steel discs Tires: LR78 – 15B radial white-whitewall steel-belted Options: GM Cadillac V-8 425 OHV EFI (198bhp/3.800rpm – 433.5Nm/2.400rpm), trailering package, speed control device, cruise control, 40-channel CB, 8-track Stereo tape player, sun roof, Astroroof, body chrome moldings, accent stripes, Sierra Grain leather contoured pillow-style seats, remote-control passenger-side mirror, colour-coordinated wheel discs, AM/FM Stereo radio with digital display, AM/FM Stereo bushbutton radio with Citizens band, Stereo radio with tape player, tilt/telescopic steering wheel, power trunk release, automatic door lock system, 50/50 Dual-Comfort front seat, power recline seats, passengers 6-Way power seat adjuster, theft deterrent system, illuminated entry system, illuninated vanity mirror, illuminated outside thermometer, fuel monitor system, rear window defogger, twilight sentinel, Guide-Matic headlamp control, controled cycle whipers, remote control trunk lock release, carpeted floor mats, trumpet horn, two-tone colouring

Special: – Cadillac was formed from the remnants of the Henry Ford Company when Henry Ford departed along with several of his key partners and the company was dissolved. With the intent of liquidating the firm’s assets, Ford’s financial backers, William Murphy and Lemuel Bowen called in engineer Henry M. Leland to appraise the plant and equipment prior to selling them. Instead, Leland persuaded them to continue the automobile business using Leland’s proven 1-cylinder engine. Henry Ford’s departure required a new name, and on August 22, 1902, the company reformed as the Cadillac Automobile Company. – The Cadillac automobile was named after the 17th century French explorer Antoine Laumet de La Mothe, sieur de Cadillac, who founded Detroit in 1701. – Cadillac was purchased by the General Motors conglomerate in 1909. Cadillac became General Motors’ prestige division, devoted to the production of large luxury vehicles. In the United States, the name became a synonym for "high quality", used in such phrases as "the Cadillac of watches," referring to a Rolex. In English usage outside North America, other brands are used in such phrases – usually Rolls-Royce. – The Cadillac line was also GM’s default marque for "commercial chassis" institutional vehicles, such as limousines, ambulances, hearses, and funeral home flower cars. The latter three of which were custom built by aftermarket manufacturers: Cadillac does not produce any such vehicles in factory. – The Eldorado name is a contraction of two Spanish words that translate as "the gilded (i.e., golden) one" and also refers to El Dorado, the mythical South American "Lost City of Gold" that fascinated Spanish explorers. – Chosen in an internal competition for a 1952 concept vehicle celebrating the company’s golden anniversary, the name Eldorado was proposed by Mary-Ann Zukosky-Marini, a secretary in Cadillac’s merchandising department and was subsequently adopted for a limited-edition convertible for model year 1953, designed by Harley Earl. – The 1978 Series Fleetwood Eldorado, redesigned by Franco Sbarro, was available as this 2-door Hardtop Coupé, as 2-door Biarritz Classic Coupé and Biarritz Coupé. The Convertible wasn’t for sale anymore since September 1976. – This seventh generation Eldorado (1971-1978) was assembled in Linden (New Jersey) and in Detroit (Michigan).

Posted by Le Photiste on 2017-09-13 14:49:01

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