#i feel cooped up and its physically paining me but the issue at hand is that im broke as shit and bored too and if i somehow dont get somet

[devilishbirds]

if i somehow dont get a $1.50 in the next 5 minutes im going to fucking explode

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Royal We ch.5

Summary: Finally the concluding chapter of 'The Royal We'! Wonder what's gonna happen here, hmmmm.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

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Read it here!

Edge woke far later than normal to the sound of the shower running. He jerked halfway upright in the bed, briefly disoriented, before the events of the day before came back to him in a rush. The baby shower planning, the discussion with Stretch about having children, or rather not having them, Janice’s son getting lost, and learning that Stretch’s abilities as a Judge allowed him see Monster souls, including his own.

Small wonder he’d overslept, Any one of those things would be tiring but put together it was entirely too much for a single day, particularly one where he and Stretch finally came upstairs in the wee hours of the morning, barely taking the time to shed their clothes before flopping together into their bed.

At least Stretch seemed to be somewhat recovered if he were up to taking a shower. Edge sank back against the mattress, kicking the blankets from his feet as he stretched with joint-popping bliss, luxuriating in a moment of uncommon laziness. As stressful as the day before had been it had also been cathartic in some ways, certain issues clouded between him and Stretch discussed then cleared away.

This morning his leg felt fine even without the brace, without even a trace of a pain. It was actually healing as the doctor promised it would, despite Edge’s occasional loose interpretation of their directions, and as time passed it would keep getting better until the injury was only a memory and an occasional ache on very cold days.

Getting back to normal, that was all. The term ‘normal’ when it came to their lives was certainly up for creative interpretation, but it honestly felt like they were getting to it. Of course, that was dependent on nothing new cropping up in their lives and it surely would. It didn’t matter, whatever came he and Stretch would face it together.

Thinking of togetherness, Edge rolled out of bed and made his way to the ensuite bathroom. Muffled strains of music were coming through the closed door and when he opened it, it poured out, bright and pop-cheerful. Behind the shower curtain, oblivious to his audience, Stretch was singing along. He’d always have a lovely singing voice, husky sweet and pitch perfect but it was the lyrics gave Edge a pause.

“i’d get down on my knees, i’d do anything for you…ohhhh, i don’t want anybody else, when i think about you, i touch myself…”

Well, that was an invitation if he’d ever heard one.

Edge only took long enough to strip of his pajamas, casting them off in a rare messy pile on the floor before sliding around the shower curtain. He was ready for Stretch to yelp and jump, catching him before he could slip on the wet porcelain. His lovely bones were slick with water and soap and he was blinking through the spray, his pale eye lights still bright from the surprise.

“holy shit, babe,” Stretch sputtered, licking water from his teeth. “a little warning would be nice!”

Edge only shifted Stretch in his arms, settling him with his spine pressed firmly against Edge’s chest. At his silent urging, Stretch let his head drop back against Edge’s shoulder, huffing a groan as Edge murmured against his skull. “And miss the chance to sweep you off your feet?”

“you can get in your gropes without giving me a—oooh,” Stretch broke off and Edge smirked, mouthing lightly at his scapula as his hands wandered lower, his bare fingers seeking out places he knew were sensitive, pressing and stroking until Stretch shivered in his arms despite the heat of the water pouring down on them.

“What was that?” Edge crooned. “I couldn’t quite hear.”

“baaaaaabe,” Stretch moaned. He squirmed, his pelvis scraping tantalizingly against Edge’s. “this isn’t fair.”

“No? I was only trying to confirm the truth of your statement,” and before Stretch could ask, “Do you, then? Touch yourself when you think about me?”

“heh.” That squirm turned into a deliberate grind and Edge caught his breath, “want a demonstration?”

As it turned out, by the time Stretch was finished ‘demonstrating’, they both needed another shower and Edge was never more pleased to have splurged on their hot water heater. The chance to hold Stretch in his arms for longer without any chilly surprises was well worth the extra cost.

~~*~~

It was a few hours later that Edge was finishing buttoning his shirt, giving his husband a sideways look where he was still sprawled out on the bed, entirely naked except for a single sock that was still sagging at the ankle. The other was in his hand, waiting for its owner to either work up the energy to put it on or to abandoned it to its lonely fate.

Tipping the scales in favor of wearing might be in order. “Are you planning on putting that sock on or do you need longer to bond?”

“i’ll put it on as soon as i can feel my feet,” Stretch sighed out dreamily, “babe, you sure know how to make an entrance.”

“In a variety of ways,” Edge said serenely. “I do well with entrances.” He sat on the side of the bed next to Stretch and leaned in to give him a lingering kiss before snatching up the sweatshirt beside him and dropping it on his head. “Come on, get dressed, we need to check on the chickens. I believe there may have been an event we missed.”

Stretch lurched upright, fighting his way out of the clinging folds of the sweatshirt to give Edge a stricken look, “fuck, i forgot!” The sweatshirt was only half on when he started for the door and he was still struggling to pull it over his skull when he made for the stairs.

“Pants!” Edge shouted after him. Their neighbors asked so little of them and he really didn’t think that no unexpected nudity was an unreasonable request.

A shout floated back up, “bring ‘em with you and i’ll get the coffee going!”

Edge only shook his head and retrieved a clean pair of track pants from their dresser. However this might end, at least it would be with a reasonable amount of dignity.

Well, that might be a tall ask of Stretch and if he couldn’t be clothed in dignity, pants would have to do, so long as it wasn’t the bare minimum.

Edge stifled his grin and headed for the stairs, pants in hand and ready to share that particular witticism with his husband. Anytime was a good time for pun to Stretch, but over morning coffee held a certain brewtiful appeal.

It was with puns exchanged (among them was Stretch declaration that so many jokes this early was a latte to handle) and coffee in hand that they finally made their way to the chicken coop to investigate yesterday’s happenings. The morning air was still tinged cool, only hinting at the afternoon’s predicted warmth and Stretch shuffled through the fallen leaves to the coop door where Noodle and Dumpling were already waiting impatiently for the bringer of their breakfast.

“yeah, sorry, gals,” Stretch set his coffee cup down outside the coop before opening the door. He leaned over to give them each a brief pat before heading to the feed trough. “i know, we’re running late. let’s get you fed before checking on your sis, okay?”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes too far up,” Edge cautioned. He set his cup alongside Stretch's and followed him inside. “I can’t even calculate the odds of her not only finding a fertilized egg but also managing to hatch it.” Her finding an egg at all was a question that Edge already decided not to look into too deeply.

“i can calculate it and trust me, it’s a lot of decimal points. don’t worry,” Stretch said as he measured out a scoopful of feed. “i won’t. not even sure i wanna meet whatever’s supposed to come out of the cryptid egg she stole. hope nugget isn’t too disappointed when her basilisk doesn’t hatch.”

The sound of feed pouring into the trough was enough to summon the smallest of their wayward poultry. Nugget poked her small head through the coop’s door flap, chirring inquisitively, and then darting out to beeline right for the feed. Hungry indeed, she didn’t detour even briefly in Edge’s direction, intent on her pursuit of tasty grains.

But it wasn’t Nugget that had their attention. Behind her, coming from the coop was a faint sound, a peeping reminiscent of those Edge heard on the farm back when he was considering whether to invest in chickens of their own. Stretch only stood frozen, staring at the coop door and Edge was the one who finally opened it and stepped inside.

They’d persuaded Nugget to abandon the plastic bucket she’d nested in for one of the coop boxes, lining it with soft hay and that was where the sound was coming from. The single caged bulb overhead didn’t provide much light and Edge peered into the darkened nest, his sockets narrowed. Nearly buried into the hay was a tiny ball of yellow fluff. Edge reached for it, scooping it cautiously into his hands and bringing it out into the light.

Stretch hovered over his shoulder anxiously, “is that…what is it?”

From the rounded cup of his hands, a tiny, billed head poked out. Webbed feet shifted against his palm as the little creature peeped anxiously, its eyes dark against the bright yellow fluff.

“it’s a duckling! holy shit!” Stretch managed to keep his delight to a muted squeal, reaching out with cautiously grabby hands. Very carefully, Edge deposited it into his hands, watching as the little bird settled against the warm bones. “this is way better than a basilisk!”

“I believe the neighbors will agree,” Edge said dryly, watching as Stretch very gently inspected their newest acquisition, petting that feathery softness. “Is it male or female?”

Stretch rolled his eye lights. “welp, all the years i spent studying physics instead of zoology are letting us down here, babe. i’ve barely got ‘duck’ cleared, if you want a more detailed report, you’re gonna have to hire a pro.”

“Understood,” Edge said. He looked out the door at their backyard, freshly layered in falling leaves. “What on earth are we going to do with a duck?”

Stretch only held the little duckling closer to his chest with a gasp, “we can’t get rid of it!”

“Of course not,” Edge said, exasperated, “I’m not suggesting we drop it off at the local livestock orphanage, it was a legitimate question. We’ll need to make arrangements for it, ducks may have different nutritional needs than chickens. It will need some sort of pond to swim in and—” He broke off as Stretch gave him a look. “What?”

That gentle smile matched the softness in Stretch’s eye lights as they briefly flashed into hearts, shining with love, “nothing, babe. you’re really gonna let me keep cheese?”

Edge blinked. “Did you just call that duckling ‘Cheese’?”

“yeah.” Stretch grinned. “short for cheese and quackers.”

“Oh, for—” Edge sighed. “I walked right into that one.”

“headfirst,” Stretch agreed. “don’t feel bad, i left the door wide open.” At that moment Nugget came wandering back into the coop and started to make concerned motherly noises. Stretch hastily set the duckling, no, Cheese back into the nesting box. Nugget hopped up into it, squirming back to bury her child beneath the bulk of her feathery warmth.

“guess introductions are over.” Lacking a tiny duckling to hold, Stretch settled for flinging his arms around Edge and giving him a hard squeeze. “c’mon, hot coffee waits for no fowl and cold coffee is foul, so let’s get ours.”

“You’re an endless font of hilarity, love.” Edge followed him out and the two of them retrieved their cups. By unspoken agreement, they settled to sit at the patio, sipping their coffee as the trees rustled softly around them.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence, and Edge checked it to see a text from Papyrus. Ah, another loose end from yesterday’s tapestry to tie up. He opened the text to find not a jumbled of excited words but a picture. Of Undyne in a hospital bed, looking both weary and elated, Alphys at her side, but it was the small bundle in their arms that drew Edge’s gaze.

The only thing visible from the swaddling of striped blankets was the child’s face, the same deep blue skin tone as their mother and a small tuft of red fronds falling over their forehead. Childbirth seemed to have left a certain squashed quality to that face that hadn’t had time yet to fade, puffy cheeks and swollen eyes, and as Edge studied the picture another text came through.

It’s a girl!

A girl, a little niece to spoil and teach, and Edge could already picture her toddling along and joining the other children as they followed Stretch around very much like ducklings as he taught them science and experiments, spending his weekends building snowmen and painting excited faces. Without making any undue assumptions, Edge could imagine the formidable child that Undyne and Papyrus’s genes would produce and the adventures that might come of it, the coming years would certainly be interesting and—

“is that the baby?”

Almost, Edge twitched his phone away before Stretch could see the picture. But none of yesterday's upset or melancholy appeared, Stretch only looked at it with an appropriate expression of interest, smiling widely.

“aww, what a cutey,” Stretch cooed. “tell undyne she does good work.”

“I will,” Edge agreed, and did so. Before he set his phone aside, another picture came through, this time with Papyrus holding the baby, the very vision of a delighted uncle and why his arm was in a sling, Edge decided not to ask. The story of Undyne’s labor and delivery was likely an epic one and not to be heard before plenty of coffee. He was nearly ready for a second cup when Stretch spoke again.

“so,” Stretch began. He shuffled his feet against the porch, his coffee cup held tightly in both hands. “you wanna get started on the pond today?”

Edge smiled faintly. “Of course, love, best to get it ready before Cheese needs it.”

He watched as Stretch lit up, equally delighted by his answer and his ready use of Stretch’s chosen name. It was hardly more ridiculous than Noodle, Nugget, and Dumpling, and besides, their baby deserved the best, too, did it not?

A pond and some research into their little duckling’s needs, that was the challenge for the day and Edge was more than up for it, so long as Stretch was by his side.

Edge set his cup on the table and reached over to take Stretch’s hand in his, slender fingers tangling with his own. He ran his thumb over Stretch’s wedding band, the smooth metal body-warm. Together, no matter what, and Edge was ready for that adventure as well and any that came along with it, for the rest of his life.

Even when it included unexpected additions.

-finis

[aphasene]

The Commander's Neice A Levi x reader fanfiction.

I never understood the true meaning of safety. Even while staying in the inner walls of wall Sina. There was always danger at hand, no matter how hard my parents tried to hide it. It was always in the back of my mind like a parasite, ready to attack at any moment. Despite me never seeing a titan in my entire life, there was always a different type of danger waiting for me.

My story isn’t an overly happy one, I must warn you now. Not for me, nor the people around me. I fell in love, I made so many wonderful friends. That being said; it is a necessary one, for me and for the thousands of others whose story may not be told, I refuse to be another forgotten wilted flower, trampled by the heroes who weren’t as brave as I was.

I lived in the inner walls of wall Sina until the age of Ten, at that time I was still pretty young, not too young to be aware of the dangers that followed my family and I. we lived a rather happy life, living in one of the wealthiest places in the wall. My mother was a researcher in an underground organisation which sought the study and capture of not only titans but the politicians who kept the information to themselves. She was paid a large sum of money for the service. My father worked as a soldier for the military police, mainly as a spy from the organisation.

One day, however, everything changed. My mother was murdered and I was taken from wall Sina to the outer district; Shiganshina. But, before I left, my mother gave me a small pendant on a chain. There was a small keyhole in it, she told me to wear it around my neck and to never take it off under any circumstances.

My father and I fled to Shinganshina where he worked as a merchant, going from district and district, selling salts, furs and other endangered items. Despite him making a fair amount of money from these strange things, my father and I lived a very humble life.

All seemed alright until that fateful day…

***

The ground blurred beneath me. I continue running for what felt like longer than it should have. The steady pound of my footstep’s echoes into my ears. I feel beads of sweat roll down my forehead and splatter to my chin. The only things that could hander me from my survival were my physical limits and my doubt. I clutch the small loaf of bread in my jacket. The soles of my shoes hit the ground in stings of pain, but I wasn’t giving up. There was no way I was going back to my father empty handed.

I turn a corner sharply, only to slam straight into a wall. I had cornered myself in an alleyway. I spin around to see a group of three slightly older boys advancing slowly, trapping me in this alley.

“Get away from me!” I cry, in one last attempt to hide my fear and panic.

“Come on no, (Y/N).” The ringleader snarls. “All you need to do is give us that loaf of bread you have tucked in your pocket.”

“No!” I scream, “That bread is for my father and I.”

“Your father is a merchant. Surely you could afford so much more than that. Why not give that small loaf to someone who needs it.” He shoots me a menacing toothy grin.

“That’s not the point. Bullying someone just because you want a small loaf of bread is low!”

He growls. “I’m going to ask you one more time: hand over the bread.”

“No!” I yell.

“Fine.”

The three boys move in closer and closer, closing the gap between us. This is the end. I think to myself. I close my eyes and braced or impact.

“Hey you!”

I open my eyes at the unfamiliar voice and see a boy around my age dashing towards the boys with an unhuman speed. Beside him was a girl with jet black hair and a look of thunder and a boy with blonde hair and bright blue eyes behind them.

“What is it now-!” The boys stop in their tracks when they see the three of them. “Oh shit, it’s her!”

The boys scramble away, seemingly forgetting about my measly loaf.

“And stay away from her!” The brown-haired boy bellows. He turns to me with an apologetic look. “Sorry about those goons. Did they hurt you?”

I shake my head and take my loaf from my jacket. It was a little crushed but still good enough to eat.

“I’m Eren by the way, this is Mikasa and Armin.” He gestures to the others who smiled and waved.

“I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you.” I say shyly. I had seen the three of them before. They caused a lot of havoc in the time I had been here, which is only a few months.

Eren offers me a welcoming hand. “You should totally come with us. Armin here, has a book he wants to show us.”

Armin nods. “It’s about the outside world.”

My eyes widen in awe. “I’d love to!”

***

The four of us sit, cooped in a corner beside the river that runs through the district, all huddled over this book that contained a future that was never meant to be.

“It says here.” Armin begins, “That there is a huge source of water called the ‘ocean’. Apparently, there’s so much salt that not even all the merchants in the world could collect it all.”

“My father’s a merchant!” I respond. “I bet that would be heaven on earth for him.”

“No way, that’s so cool!” Eren claps his hands in glee. “So, he like, goes to different places in the walls?”

“Yeah, we used to live in wall Sina, but there were issues concerning my safety so we decided to live here.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie but one wrong move could blow our cover for the both of us.

“What was Wall Sina like?” Mikasa asks, her voice soft and quiet.

“It was huge! There were huge buildings around the districts. It was a land of silver where everything sparkled.” I say as I recall the place, I once called home. “But there are evil people crawling the place.”

“The military police.” Eren snarls.

“Not really, my father used to be an MP. But you’d be surprised how secretive you’d have to be. You could never be too careful. But it was certainly cleaner.”

“Also,” Armin had only been paying half attention to my story, he had been flicking through his book. “There are huge fields of sand. I think they’re called…Deserts?”

“We have to go there!” Eren squawks, “Just you wait, when I join the survey corps, we’re going to see all those things!”

“The Survey Corps?” I shudder. “There’s no way in hell! I’m never joining those suicidal maniacs.”

“They’re not suicidal!” Eren protests.

“Well, they kind of are.” Armin shuts his book.

Mikasa remains silent, though I can see her face contort.

“They’re not! And I can prove once and for all that they’re true heroes.” He glares at us through his fringe, “Besides, I have a mission to kill every last titan in existence.”

“Good luck with that.” I say rolled my eyes fondly. “Anyway, I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

The trio nods, smiling sweetly at me, before I stroll down the streets.

***

“Father, I’m home!” I yell, letting myself inside.

Over my shoulder, see him standing over the sink peeling a pile of potatoes that we had grown in our tiny garden. He looks over at me and beams.

“Ah, (Y/N). You’re back. Did you get the bread?”

I nod, placing the loaf in the middle of the dining table. “Uh huh. Those boys gave me a bit of trouble though.”

“What did they do this time?” Father looks at me with genuine concern.

“The same as they always do, but I made some new friends though.”

“That’s good to hear.” He ruffles my hair and places our supper on the table, two bowls of vegetable broth. “I was beginning to worry about your ability to make friends.”

“It’s not my fault that the people in Shiganshina are difficult to talk to.” I sit in my seat and feel the fragrance of the soup and the bread mixed together, my stomach growls hungrily.

“Whatever, I’m glad you’re finally hanging out with someone that isn’t me.” He chuckles taking a sip.

I look down at my pendant, a mixture of confusion mourning.

“Still thinking about Mother?” Father asks, it’s clear that I had been quiet for a little too long.

“Yeah.” I say simply. “It’s still a little difficult.”

“I know honey.” He reaches over the table to touch my shoulder. “I miss her too but I’m sure wherever she is right now, she’s so proud of you.”

“Speaking of which.” My eyes flicker to my pendant, “I’ve been having a think about this pendant…”

My father smiles. “You’re still wondering what it truly is, aren’t you?”

“Why was it even given to me?” I ask, still fiddling with it.

Father smiles knowingly at me. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

***

The next morning, I trot down the street, the sun shining brilliantly on my back. I see Eren, Mikasa and Armin sitting in a circle on a nearby pavement. Eren waves at me earning a smile from the others.

“Morning (Y/N).” Mikasa says patting a space next to her. “Eren was telling us about the scouts again.” I see a little roll of her eyes.

“Don’t say it like that!” Eren protests. “And don’t pretend that you weren’t sold on joining them too.”

“I’m not.” Mikasa huffs.

“Hey (Y/N), what’s with the necklace?” Armin asks.

“Oh this?” I look down to my necklace. “Well before my Mother died, she gave me this, she told me that it was vital that I didn’t take this off. She told me that it was important for humanity, but I never knew what.”

“So, it’s the only thing that you have to remember her?” Eren asks.

Mikasa slaps Eren’s shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for!?” He scowls.

“Don’t be so insensitive!” Mikasa scolds.

“It’s fine, really. It’s kind of nice to have something that’s been entrusted to me.”

“Don’t you think that it-.”

“Titan!”

We hear a panicked voice echo over the entire district. I jump to my feet, in an attempt to see over the shoulders of the crowd.

“What is it?” Mikasa asks.

“I don’t know.” I say hopping on the balls of my feet, “I’m going to get closer look.”

“I’m coming too.” Eren says.

“So am I.” Mikasa and Armin say in unison.

The four of us dash down the cobblestone road, pushing past the groups of people, I search the scene in front of us, then I see it.

I watch as a titan slowly appears over the wall, it was grotesque and twisted, as if the skin had melted off its face, despite it’s lack of expression, it moved with purpose, sending a jolt of dread through my entire being.

“It’s peering over the wall.” Armin cries. “It has to be around 50 metres.”

The crowd remains silent for what feels like an eternity, when suddenly I hear a mighty crash! Beside us stands another titan, it looks like it had armour from head to toe.

I stumble back, bumping into a few people, a few flashes of figures of titans run through my vision. I have to find my father!

I run, my feet slapping the land. Perhaps a little while ago I would have scoffed at the idea of running so far and fast, now I push myself forward in the search of my father. Only now, I am born to run, it’s as if my life depends on it, a few titans jump in front of me but I dodge their grasp, I cannot be killed today.

I run down our street, I see father staggering into the clearing, clutching his side. He’s alive!

“Father!” I yell, catching up to him, but as I get closer, I notice his despairing face. “Father I-!”

The second I come within reach of him, he grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me into another alley.

“Father, what’s wrong?”

We hear a thump, almost like a loud, large footstep.

“Oh my god.” I squeak.

“Listen to me (Y/N); it’s too late for me now, you have to go on without me.” He shakes me slightly.

“What do you mean? You look fine.”

“Sweetie, I can barely walk, let alone run. You need to get out of here, you are our only hope.”

“Hope?” I sob. “Hope for what?”

He rummages in the pocket in his jacket and hands me a small letter enclosed in an envelop with a wax seal with our family’s crest. “This will explain everything.”

I take the letter, gripping it as hard as I can. “Father-.” My voice wavers as tears pricks my vision. “I don’t want to do this.”

He brings me into a tight hug, I feel him shake violently, “(Y/N), I will always be proud of you, remember that.”

The footsteps get closer and he pushes me behind a few crates. I peak around theme, I see a slightly smaller titan with a sickening grin approaching my father, I want to scream and cry but against my better judgement I stay as quiet as I can. I watch as it grabs my father’s squirming body and walks away. I turn as quiet as I can and scramble to my feet.

My feet patter on the ground, I run as fast as I can, I think about my father, I thing about my friends, I think about the entire townspeople whose lives may have been taken away today. I hear a shrill scream coming from behind me. I blink back a few tears, as I power forward, I have to. For everyone who has faith in me.

I never knew what the world had in store for me, but one thing was for certain, it wasn’t this. Both my parents are dead and I never knew what plans they were scheming, maybe it was never really truly for me to know.

But now I have to fight for my survival, I don’t know that the world has in store for me but bring it on.

[xxxtrouvaillexxx]

Paper Cranes

 A/N: I swear that I’m working on the first chapter of LSaD, I plan to have it out by THIS Saturday! I promise that it’s coming! In the mean time, I’ve been working on this piece for a hot minute and it’s kind of just been sitting around in my drafts and in the back of my head. So~ while you wait, here is a little something something to keep the waters calm. And I needed a little something to deal with quarantine. 

Pair: Bucky x Reader (platonic)

Synopsis: Y/N is an empath... More specifically, a healer with empathic abilities, which leads to from very severe trauma for y/n but you’d never stop helping your team for the world. Even when that trauma leads you to spend a night on to roof in tears and a very heated talk with your best friend Bucky.

Masterlist

Warning(s): angst (I’m a sucker for it...), an alarming amount of fluff, as usual.

Word Count: 3,931

The Tower has been bustling with life ever since the city closed down, or more aptly, the world as it seems. Every single one of the Avengers, other than Barton himself, was closed up in the same building for the last three weeks, and the air was becoming more restless every day. And the more anxious it became inside of these walls, the world was still doing worse for wear. 

You, feeling all of that, felt all of your own worries too. Not that you let anyone in on that little fact. You’re the personal on-site doctor to the Avengers along with being one of the hero’s themselves, though you had no real special power to name in the ways of fighting. You simply were rather good at kicking bad guy butt and were a rather well-known assassin with the Black Widow herself.

And though the two of you are as close as sisters, she doesn’t even know about your ability.

“Lady Y/N!”

You whipped your head around so quickly at Thor’s booming voice, you could have sworn that you’d given yourself whiplash, but you managed to give the large man a large grin and match his excitement.

“Thor!”

Laughing, he scooped you up and off of the floor in a tight hug as if you were light as a feather. If there was anyone who, throughout the entire time of being shut up in a building with the worlds most lovably irritating heros, could keep spirits high, it was Thor. The man was like a giant teddy bear, to be frank. You could swear that the only time you ever see him get intensely serious about an issue is during a mission, and it surely wasn’t anything you were going to start complaining about now.

Letting you down again to stand on your own feet, he grinned widely and with mischief.

“I require a bit of aid, I’m afraid. Sparring with the two super soldiers seems to be only a tad bit more interesting without the use of powers.”

“Don’t let him fool you, doll. We pummeled him and he doesn’t want to admit it,” Bucky said from the doorway. Steve was coming up from behind him with a smile too.

“Well, it seems you boys have had an eventful morning then.” The humor was obvious in your voice and they all laughed, Thor of course boomed.

“Indeed!”

“Well, how can I assist you three then?”

“Just Thor today, actually. He thought it would be funny to go easy on us old geezers. Lessons learned,” Steve said grinning as he passed you with a pat on the shoulder to the kitchen.

Thor after, another, belly full of laughter, showed you the bruises that now littered his arms and torso. There were no major wounds, and it looked like it was just hand to hand sparring, though if it were anyone other than Thor the damage would have been far worse coming from the two super soldiers.

Shaking your head, you smiled and pointed him to the couch. “You might as well get comfortable while we do this. You’ve got enough bruises to keep me busy for a week,” you joked and sat down beside him. “You know the drill, eyes closed and deep breaths.”

He followed your orders without complaint and you rested your hands against his chest first and matched your breathing to his and felt the steady stream of power flow through you. It was light, airy and cool, shining a beautiful gold from your fingertips in waves. But as gorgeous as it looked, this amazing power to heal the injured was a double-edged blade.

As soon as the marks on his skin began to fade and return to its normal color, images of their match flashed in your mind. Every punch and kick that Thor received felt like a blow of your own. Needless to say, you figured it hurt a lot more for you than it had for the god in front of you. Even if you knew that you didn’t physically attain any of the damage, it didn’t dull the sharp pains that coursed through your body.

The reason you always made them close their eyes before healing them of anything, an illness, battle wounds, haunting dreams, or trauma, was because it was easier than trying to force down every wince and grimace. Sometimes it just seemed impossible, which is also the reason you tried to keep healing sessions like this to more personal settings, not that that was always possible.

After a few measured deep breaths to match with Thor’s, you moved onto his arms and repeated the process. It didn’t take long, and by the time you were finished the sharp pains had faded into something of a dull throbbing. Though you didn’t imagine that would stop anytime soon.

“I feel like a brand new man! Thank you, Lady Y/N!” He grinned and launched himself into another suffocating hug before turning to the men in the kitchen. “I will remember to not pull my punches with you two the next time around!”

“We’ll look forward to your next challenge then. But don’t go crying to Y/N next time you get your ass handed to you,” Bucky hollered back.

“Hey! Language!” You exclaimed with a laugh when you heard Steve grumble and say something about needing to forget that moment ever happened… Not that any of you ever would, of course.

You all sat around for a while before Steve went off to speak with Tony about something or another and Thor decided to find and pester his brother. ‘Which I’m sure I’ll have the pleasure to hear about later from Loki himself’, you thought with a chuckle. And soon enough it was just you and Bucky left in the kitchen sharing a peaceful silence and tea for several minutes.

The two of you had grown particularly close over the time since he’s come to the tower and in Wakanda. He was one of your closest friends next to Natasha. Because of that, you took extra care of him not that you’d ever tell him that. You took extra time with him in the evenings and during routine checkups to help him with his nightmares and the general horrors his mind puts him through. You’d be sure to brush your hand across his skin periodically throughout the day subtly to draw out any built up worries and anxieties and he usually stayed pretty close by when he was feeling extra tense.

Of course, there was a part of you that dreaded his checkups and the late nights. Not because that you didn’t want to help him, but the pain that it caused you was sometimes almost to much for you to handle. His memories that flooded through your mind when you touched, the phantom pains you’d feel... You couldn’t understand how anybody could ever do something so absolutely horrible, least of all to another human being. And it was almost incomprehensible how Bucky had managed to survive so long after all of it, but you had managed to tie that to the fact that he was the strongest man you knew.

But no matter how much you may dread those visits and the things that followed, you would never stop helping him. And you would never tell him the truth about your power. You doubted that he’d ever let you continue if he knew what it did.

“I think everyone is going out for joyride tonight, you plan on joining?” He interrupted your thoughts with a warm voice and kind smile. 

“Not likely. I think I’ll just take the evening for myself. If everyone goes out, it might actually be quite around here for a change,” you chuckled. “What about you?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but Steve is trying pretty hard to get me out this time around.”

“So, probably then?”

He laughed and nodded, “Yeah, probably.”

“Where do they plan on going, anyway? Everything is shut down right now, so there isn’t much to do,” you asked. And it was true, with a global pandemic going around, everything was basically closed down until further notice everywhere. 

He shrugged and looked to the ceiling, “Who knows. Stark thought it would be a good idea to get the quinjets out and running before they sit around to long and need a toon up. And he thought it would be good for moral if we weren’t all cooped up in the tower again for another night together.”

You guffawed and shook your head. “Oh? And having everyone cooped up in the jets is going to be so much better for team moral, huh? Tell me how that works out for him.”

                                          »»-———————-««

It was roughly 11:30 now, and everyone was still out of the tower and flying around Lord knows where and you were in the tower alone. It had been nearly two months since these halls last ran silent except for the sound of your own footsteps. Nearly two months sinces you could freely express all of the pent up rage, and fear, and pain, and anxiety that has been building up inside of yourself.

On most if not all occasions, you were a very happy person. You enjoyed your work and the people you work with. You loved your family and friends, and the world even with all of its problems... And there were a lot of problems. And normally it would just be enough to spend a day to yourself with a book or a blank canvas and paint to release everything. You tried to always look toward the brighter side of things, but recently- without a way to vent out everything you’ve been taking in, things were to much. 

So you found yourself up on the towers roof at almost midnight with tears running down your cheeks and finding it hard to catch your breath. Your chest ached. The instant that the door closed behind you and you were hit with the cool night air it was like everything just rushed out in waves. 

You screamed, and wailed, and cried. You let yourself feel everything that you had been burying. Every last punch, kicks, knife and bullet, nightmare. It all came out in coughs and harsh please and grief. For yourself and for the people who went through it all. 

“It’s not fair,” you cried. “It’s not fair!”

After what felt like an eternity and your throat was coarse from the yelling and sobs, you felt like there was nothing left to cry. You’d gotten it all out and let go of everything, finally. And you knew you would be able to face everyone tomorrow as yourself rather than the shell of a person you have been until now. 

What you didn’t know, was that Bucky was there to witness it all.

                                         »»-———————-««

When you woke up the next morning you felt a great deal better than you had the previous night. Let alone the previous week. In a rather bright mood, you woke early and decided to make breakfast, nothing special because let’s be frank- you weren’t any Gordon Ramsey. But you could make a mean stack of pancakes and eggs.

An hour later, the kitchen was flooded with tired heros and grumbled good mornings. Though you were aware that Bucky seemed to linger in the doorway a little to long and continued to stare at you throughout breakfast. You could practically feel the discomfort and tension poor off of him. He didn’t mention it though so you assumed he wasn’t ready to come to you yet.

It wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to try and handle himself first, be it a nightmare or his own thoughts he tried to take care of it first. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. But you never wanted to try and take that chance from him, so you let him be until he decided for himself.

They all happily ate their share of pancakes, gave thanks in some form or another; hugs, verbally, a slug to the shoulder, the usual. And then everyone dispersed to go about their own day. 

By the time that a week went by, you started to become genuinely concerned about Bucky. He was still tense and sticking close to you, but he wouldn’t let himself get close enough for you to touch him and draw out whatever it was that was causing him to be so worried. But he never left your side either. Everytime you left a room, a few minutes later he would follow. It was becoming so apparent that even Natasha said something over dinner, but Bucky didn’t bother to respond.

You didn’t want to take away the option of helping himself if he felt like he could, but he’s never gone longer than two days before saying something to you. It started to make you wonder if you had done something wrong or if he really felt like he didn’t need your help anymore.

Either way, you had to figure it out. The worry was beginning to choke you if you thought about it for to long. So after dinner, you excused yourself from the table and waited in the hall for Bucky to follow. 

Sure enough, after a minute he started down the hall too searching for which way you disappeared to.

You showed yourself to him and ignored his apparent surprise, “Are you okay, Bucky? Did something happen?”

His face changed, he looked hurt and sad. Like he couldn’t really bring himself to say anything or absorb what you asked. You waited patiently while he grapled for an answer. 

“What?” Was all that he managed to get out. 

“Well, you’ve been following me around a lot recently, and you only really stick to my side like this when you need to talk or help with something. But it’s already been a week and you haven’t said anything yet so I was starting to get worried that it was worse than usual or that maybe I did something wrong or that you-”

“That’s supposed to be my line!” He exclaimed, efficiently cutting off my nervous rant and giving me a turn at being confused. 

It must of been written all over your face because he quickly continued, “I was there. I saw- I heard you last week on the rooftop! How can you possibly be asking me if I’m alright!?”

Your heart stuttered to a stop at his words and you could practically feel the blood draining from your face. You didn’t even know where begin to explain why or what happened last week.

“Oh...” you trailed off and stepped back. “I didn’t know you were still here. I thought you went with Steve,” you have a humorless chuckle. “I don’t know why you’re so worried about it, I’m alright. Can we just forget about it?”

You knew it was a pathetic attempt to get him to let the problem go, you knew that there was no chance he was going to now that he’s been thinking about it for a week. 

“You were begging out there, Y/N. Begging! You can’t just tell me you’re alright and expect me to just let it go like this is nothing!”

You were silent for a long time, taking deep and long breaths to keep yourself calm before taking the corner of his sleeve and dragging him to your room. “We should go somewhere private so we can talk freely.”

He followed you without question.

                                        »»-———————-««

The two of you sat silently for nearly half an hour in your room. You felt completely uncomfortable in the situation. Usually, you were the one who was patiently waiting and comforting someone else while they thought over what they wanted to share or compose themselves. You were used to that, but being on the opposite end of that was new and something you came to learn within the first five minutes that you weren’t particularly fond of. 

Finally, Bucky decided to break the silence. “Why do you have so many origami cranes hangin’ in here?”

Your room decor was a bit unconventional, compared to that of everyone else in the tower that is. The room was covered in your own oil paintings, all the ones you deemed should never see the light of day but didn’t get rid of, couches and chairs, bookcases, and of course, countless bunches of paper cranes you’ve hung from the ceiling. Unconventional, maybe. But you loved it anyway. 

“There is a myth,” you nearly whispered it but you were sure that he caught the words anyway when he turned toward you. 

“Tell me about it?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s an old Japanese legend. It says that anybody who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some of the old stories even say that you are granted happiness and eternal good luck instead of a wish. But you can use the wish on anything, a recovery to illness or injury for example. Usually they’re made as gifts for special friends or family.”

Standing, you grabbed one of the many strings of cranes and gave it to Bucky. “Cranes in Japan are considered holy creatures and supposedly live for a thousand years. That’s why a thousand cranes are made, one for each year of their life. And there are some stories that even say that all have to be folded within a year and strung together on the same string by the one who is making the wish for it to actually work.” You drifted off and smiled at the strand he held and shrugged. 

He stared at you for awhile before he looked around your room again. “All of them are stung on one sting.”

“So the legend goes,” you answered. 

“But you have at least a hundred of these hanging around your room,” he awed and shook the his gently. 

“53 to be exact. There are 53,142 cranes in this room. I’m working on another one now,” you laughed as his face grew in een more amazement. 

The strands all hung next to each other. Currently you had two rows of 25 and one of three. Honestly, it was rather beautiful in your opinion. It created a sort of curtain on one of your walls filled with different colors and stories. 

“Why?” He asked softly.

“Because I have a lot of wishes?”

“No. Don’t dodge. You wouldn’t have gone through all of this effort,” he waved toward the curtain, “for yourself alone. So why? How long have you been doing this for?”

“Nearly 15 years? I usually try to fold 10 every night before I go to sleep. You would be disgusted by how much I spend on paper,” you joked but he didn’t break. You groaned, “Fine! It’s because I didn’t know what else to do, okay? People were sad and hurting and scared, I felt it, and I didn’t know what I felt like there wasn’t anything I could do to help them. And so I started to make wishes for strangers mostly, people I felt needed it.”

“Felt?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded hesitantly. “Or saw depending on the person. And it’s not like I’d ever do it on purpose, I’d just bump into someone and see everything! And I wouldn’t be able get it out of my head. I felt like there wasn’t anything I could do, Bucky. So I wished and wished and wished for them. For everyone.”

He looked at you incredulously, “Y/N... What do you mean, “See everything”?”

You blinked rapidly a few times and grabbed three more of the strands from the wall. “These,” you handed them to him, “are yours. These are the wishes I made for you. And before you say anything, just... Don’t freak out, okay? I didn’t make all of those to upset you, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m a healer, that’s always been who I am. But for me to be able to use that gift, I have to make physical contact with my patient. And I’ve been blessed to be able to mend body and mind! There isn’t anything in the world that would make me want to give up that gift, Bucky. But when I... touch people- anyone, Wanda, Nat, Thor, a stranger... You- I can see exactly how they got hurt mentally or physically. And I can feel the hurt too, like it were my own.”

You could barely bring yourself to say that last part, and it was barely a murmur as it were, but you knew that he heard it by the way that the color drained from his face and he slouched back a bit.

“Bucky,” you reached out for him but stopped when he flinched away from you. You swallowed harshly and continued, “I don’t hate it Bucky. I prefer it this way, really! It makes it easier for me to understand who I’m helping and more than anything else it brings me closer to them. I’m okay, Bucky.”

“Stop telling me that you’re okay! How could you possibly be after-” he paled more if that were possible as he looked at the four rows of cranes he carried now, “Oh my God. Four years, you’ve seen everyth- You’ve felt everything for four years! Y/N, I-”

“Don’t you dare try to apologise or regret coming to me, James,” you interrupted in a hurry. “If I can breathe then I’m fine. And I will never regret helping you when you needed me. You’ve never done anything wrong. And what you saw last week wasn’t usually how I deal with... Well, everything that gets piled up. Usually I go out for a day to breathe and just let go. It’s just that with everything closed down right now, I hadn’t had the opportunity in months. It got to much, that’s all. It had nothing to do with you, I promise.”

Everything you said seemed to go in one ear and out the other with him. He simply grasped the cranes tighter and refused to make eye contact. 

“Bucky,” you whispered again and reached for him one more time and this time, he didn’t turn away. His wave of emotions hit you hard, there were to flashes of images or memories, just feelings of regret and horror and shame and fear. “It’s okay,” you breathed and raised to give him a hug. “It’s okay Bucky.”

Slowly he calmed down, and his emotions subsided into ripples rather than waves. His regret eased along with his fears. He pulled away from you eventually and offered a weak smile, that didn’t necessarily confirm any suspicions that you may have that he was lying or otherwise. 

He held up the cranes and smiled, “Thank you, so much, for these.Y/N I can’t ever thank you enough for these, let alone everything else that you’ve done for me. I understand why you would’ve kept this to yourself, if I’d known sooner I’d never had come to you. But because I did- God, I can do things without begin afraid. I can go out with Steve and not freak out, or go through the night without nightmares. I’ve you to thank you for that. You’ve done more for me than I could have ever asked you, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that but-”

You smiled and shook your head, “This, Bucky, is plenty.”

[i-loves-my-lemurs]

Hi, I was reading your writers commentary. I love it so much! Do you have any commentary on "Shadows and Terror"? Its my personal favorite. I'd also love to see some commentary on your lovely sugarbuns fic.

Ah, thank you! Sorry it took me so long to get to this, I'm still drowning in coursework and stuff, but I appreciate the ask!

This was my first oneshot I wrote for this fandom, Ted centric this time! I just wanted to see the characters acknowledge their trauma a bit more, so I wrote this for Ted and Pancho. Enjoy the commentary!

.............

*One jab after another at his skin with that sharp spear... water suddenly burst from every wall and flooded them and-*

Ted's nightmare was a mash up of his various scary experiences from Exiled, because of course I couldn't just pick one! He was scared while fighting the war, combined with the loneliness and terror of being cooped up in the submarine, thinking he was trapped alone with a monster. As well as the sub sinking, that couldn't have been fun for him.

This takes place some time after the victory party, but slightly before the first episode of season 5. Just enough time to put some distance between the adrenaline of the war and the partying, and allow the weight of the experience to truly catch up with Ted.

*his eyes wide in terror. He frantically looked this way and that, checking the shadows around the room*

The title of the fic is incooperated in this paragraph, but it actually took me a super long time to pick a title. I eventually re-read some sections and thought, yeah this sounds good. Shadows and Terror still sounds a little fancy for this work tbh.

*looked up to see Dorothy standing about him*

I decided not to being Ted and Dorothy's marital problems into this, so they're very sweet with each other and they both care a lot.

(Also instead of about it's meant to say above, argh, embarrassing typo!)

*She quickly released him, seeing how jumpy he was*

Dorothy doesn't quite know what's going on with Ted, but she's trying to be supportive the best way she can.

*it reminded him of those long nights in the submarine when Julien*

Ted's train of thought runs away with him here, he's still half caught up in the dream poor guy, and suddenly he's having a flashback to the sub.

*Pancho was whining about their whining*

I can see Pancho just getting very fed up with consistent negativity when he's trying to focus on driving the sub, even if he too is just concerned about the kingdom. I wrote this fic before I started shipping panchulien actually, the early days.

*Ted had just quietly sat down in the corner of the room,*

Poor Ted, I imagine he definitely wasn't complaining as much as the others, he had been alone on the sub for longer than them and just needed a hug.

*All he could hear now was his own breathing, short and panting, and Dorothy, oh heck, she was talking*

Ted zones back to reality, the fic is written from his POV so you can read along his thought process. As he comes back to reality, realising Dorothy is talking completely throws him off guard.

*I just... I guess I'm still jumpy from the whole mountain lemur, submarine fiasco."*

Ted sort of dances around the issue, he doesn't even want to directly mention the word 'war'. He only hints at the things that are scaring him to try and keep Dorothy's worry to a minimum, and because talking about it will make it even more real.

*rubbed the fur on his head, something which he often found soothing*

These lemurs need to groom each other more!!! I get the feeling Ted and Dorothy might like physical contact if one of them is upset (not if they're upset because of each other obviously), but grooming would be a comfort to many of the lemurs, especially physically affectionate Ted.

*tried to force himself to relax*

Poor leem, he just wants the scary stuff to be over so he can be alright and be sunny old Ted again, but unfortunately for him, things aren"t that simple.

*his tail stiffening like it did under imposed threat. He even heard a low growl being forced from his throat*

I'm not sure if I actually researched if lemurs do this, or if I made it up on the spot, but it seems like something they might do when threatened (any experts want to weigh in?).

*She could tell Ted was still tense from the way he was clutching his tail. "Look, maybe you should see Doctor S?"*

As much as Ted tries to hide it, Dorothy can tell something is wrong. Despite their problems, it's obvious that she cares very deeply for him and she just wants to see him be himself again.

*Yep!" Ted tried to sound as merry as he wanted to feel.*

Ted is definitley the sort to try and put on a facade of everything being okay, especially when Dorothy is involved. Secretly he knows it can't be like this forever, but he wants to pretend for as long as he can. Kind of like his marriage. That's also why he wants to be away from Dorothy. He knows she can see right through his little facade and he's not ready to face the truth yet.

*"At this time of night?"*

This takes place at around two in the morning, late enough for Ted, Dorothy and most of the kingdom's subjects to be asleep, but still early enough for Pancho Horst and Willie to still be partying.

*Ted couldn't help but clutch at his tail as he walked....bit his lip as he tuned into the sounds of the jungle all around him.*

Ted would totally hold his tail like a snuggie to comfort himself. And since he's already jumping at shadows, being alone in a place where the war was just fought would terrify him. Even though he's lived in the jungle all his life, the war has left him so wary of danger that everything feels very scary and unfamiliar.

*Snoring lemurs who weren't paralysed in fear by nightmares and memories.*

Ted feels a little left out and jealous as the rest of the kingdom is able to sleep and move on from the war. It makes him feel isolated, which is why finding solace with Pancho is important for him later in the fic.

*Sweet mango juice, what was he thinking*

I tried to copy Ted's exclamative speaking style here, but it doesn't quite match up to how it sounds in the show. Oop.

*sign that read 'MANGO TANGO'*

Fun fact, I tried to get the bar's title to be in italics, but a03 glitches on me and turned the entire text into italics, and because coding is a nightmare and I just decided to have it in caps instead.

*Ted recognised Horst, Willie and Pancho.*

These guys are drinking buddies. CANNON!

*"The stinking drink's in your hand, you buffoon!" Pancho said grumpily*

I'm not 100% happy with the way Pancho is written here, but it is pretty good for a first attempt. It kind of makes sense though, Pancho was having a good time with his pals and is a little annoyed that their night has to end. Also he's annoyed at himself for letting Horst get into this state.

*Pancho winked at him*

Small hint at panched in there, it was my first ship for this show and I still think it's neat.

*which he promptly collapsed onto seconds later.*

Poor Willie, he's just very done now, and needs sleep. Pancho just didn't want their partying to end, so he unwittingly wore his homies down on their night out.

*"You wanna come back to the Mango Tango with me?"*

Pancho is still very desperate to keep the night going, even if it isn't with his drinking buddies. He just needs company.

*Pancho released Ted almost immediately. "Sorry, I just, don't want to be alone." Pancho muttered, looking embarrassed.

Ted was a little surprised by his outburst, but deep down, he knew he might have done the same thing.*

Ah, poor babies. I thrive off the angst.

*exited Willie's hut and shut the door behind them.*

Courtesy.

*Together, they climbed*

Ted and Pancho sort of have a kindred spirit vibe going here. They're both going through similar experiences and avoiding them by being out at night. They need each other, even if they don't know it.

*tall tree that had many different people's huts in it*

Baobab tree? Is that what you were going for, past me?

*Pancho chuckled as he continued to stare out across the jungle. "I'm not sure if I ever went to lemur school." He said eventually.*

Now that they're up above the village and everything, Pancho's beginning to slow down and their conversations become more meaningful. He's put some distance between his late night drinking and now he just wants some solidarity in his pain and meaningful company, which, thankfully, Ted can give.

*he really didn't know much about Pancho's side of things.*

I have to wonder what the POV of people who weren't directly involved in Panchurian would be. I think Ted would probably be quite confused about what happened to Pancho, and why he suddenly has a house now and everything. But hes too polite to ask, so it's only now he finds out.

*Ted sighed and glanced up at Pancho*

Ted sort of looks up to Pancho after seeing how brave and badass he was in Exiled, and he's always veiwed Pancho as this macho, confident swagger guy, and hopes that he might be a source of consolation that could help Ted feel 'normal' again.

*"but even when that something's over and you know it's never going to hurt you again you just can't help being terrified"*

All this would definitley resonate with Pancho and the first thing he does is to encourage Ted to do what's best for him because he cares. He doesn't want Ted to end up like him because of trauma.

*"Don't apologise." He said. Ted glanced back at him. "It's, uh, it's alright to get scared by that stuff"*

Pancho shows Ted that it's okay to be scared, because if Ted continues to bottle up his feelings then he won't be Ted anymore.

*"You know I got brainwashed, right?"*

Poor Panchy just wants to open up to someone. He's been shoving his feelings down, but now it's all coming to the surface because of how he relates to Ted right now. He needs some more chances to talk about the things that haunt him.

*"Soft!" Ted exclaimed, hands on his hips.*

Ted was a little hung up on being a 'tough guy' after Exiled, so that shows through here.

*"And I'm assistant captain of the ringtail guard!"*

This little rant feels very in character for Ted. I enjoyed writing it.

*"but I just can't bring myself to pay them a wedding visit!"*

A wedding visit was a custom in the olden days of England, and I can absolutely see Ted doing it and bringing the newly weds gifts.

*leaned back against the branch they were sitting on.*

At the beginning of this scene, Pancho was clutching the tree trunk, now he's relaxed. He's feeling more comfortable with Ted.

*"Why don't you talk to your wife, she'll help."*

Helps to establish a functioning support system. Pancho knows Ted has people he can turn to, so encourages him to do so.

I am completely all for this friendship. Ted would help Pancho with his issues without hesitation, and obviously I wrote this with the idea that nobody would be completely okay after Exiled. I just wanted to explore their issues further, and for my first fic in this fandom, I think it's pretty good.

...............

And that's it! Thanks again for the ask :)

[fanfictionaries]

In My Head - Cloudy’s 200 Follower Hyperbole Challenge

Prompt: “I swear to you, I saw it! It was like a baby’s arm holding an apple!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers X female reader

Summary: Being a technological genius had its ups and downs. The downs being you spent more time in your head than you did in the real world. What happens when that character trait has you seeing a whole new side to Steve Rogers? A lot of new sides. 

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Smut, Swearing, Oral, Throat-Fucking, Dirty Talk, Size Queen, Rough, slight Dom/Sub?, NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: Thank you @crushedbyhyperbole ! This was a lot of fun and congratulations on 200 followers! <3 

***

It was your fault, really. You were never known for being overtly present. In truth, unless it was completely required, focusing on the world around you was rarely your main priority. Some called you spacey. Others an airhead. But really it was just that you had more things to think about than where you were going or what the people around you were doing. Your high functioning intelligence made things like algorithms and technical designs the forefront of your attention, while everything else just seemed to blend into the background. White noise. That’s why Tony saw you as such an asset to his lab. There was nothing he loved more than someone who focused on their work so much that everything else took the back burner. So, you never felt the need to be apologetic about your airy personality. If Tony found it acceptable and you found it natural, then why was there a need to change?

Well, the events of that afternoon were a testament to the downfalls of your nature. You were stuck on a problem. You couldn’t get the circuitry on Nat’s new and improved Black Widow’s Bites. It kept shorting out and it was driving you insane. The frustration was manifesting itself throughout your body, agitation and pent up energy coursing through your veins. Deciding to run it off, you left your lab in the basement of the compound and made your way to the gym. Hopping onto one of the many treadmills, you whipped out a strenuous three miles, letting your mind wander over your problem with each step. By the time you stopped the machine, you were sweaty, out of breath, and thoroughly satisfied. You were pretty positive you’d fixed the circuitry issue, the only thing left to do was go back to the lab and apply it physically. Lost in thought, you wandered into the locker room, planning on rinsing off and changing into your work clothes. Steam billowed from the shower area, the sound of water running from a single stall. Making your way to your locker, you began to strip in front of it. Dirty clothes piled on the bench in front of you, you opened your locker to grab your towel and soap only to find it empty. What the heck? Where were your clothes? Maybe you were in front of the wrong one. Opening the locker next to it, you found that one empty as well. A few more lockers opened, and you were thoroughly confused. Empty. All of them empty. You were sure that you’d chosen a locker in that area. Coming back to reality in a rare moment of clarity, you looked around you to see that yes, you were in a locker room, but it looked wrong. Everything seemed…flipped.

The squeak of the shower faucet turning off caught your attention instinctually. Looking to your left, you saw the curtain slide open and to your horror Steve Rogers completely naked. You stood frozen; eyes wide as you took in his impressive form. Sinewy, wet muscle stretched from his traps to his obliques, the sharp cut of his adonis belt pointing like an arrow to a light brown patch of curls. What sat below, caught you completely off guard. Steven Grant Rogers had the largest cock you had ever seen in your life. It was a few moments before Steve noticed you as well. Wide eyed and slack jawed, the time ticked on as the two of you stood rooted to the spot in shock, unable to look away from each other’s naked forms. The distant sound of heavy gym equipment broke you from your trance and you let out a squeak, breaking Steve from his stupor as well.

“What the hell (Y/N)!?” exclaimed Steve, covering himself with his hands and staring up at the ceiling. But it was too late, you’d seen it all and so had he. “Why are you naked?!”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” you cried, running from the room and putting your clothes on as quickly as possible without tripping. You ran barefoot through the gym, your shoes long forgotten on the bench in the locker room. You didn’t stop until you made it all the way to your lab and even then, you didn’t stop.

You’d been in your lab for the past week, working nonstop. Locking yourself away seemed like the best option, and so you only left the small space for necessary provisions like food and bathroom breaks. The loveseat you kept in the room had become incredibly handy as well, allowing you to take small cat naps in between your work.  You hoped that if you could keep your mind occupied, you wouldn’t think about what you’d seen. You wouldn’t think about all that you’d seen. All that he’d seen. But alas, it was no use. All the important and creative things that usually floated through your mind, blinding you to the outside world, were gone. Replaced by more…inappropriate but equally creative things.

Lost in a vivid daydream of riding Captain Steve Rogers till the cows came home, you didn’t realize that the soldering iron you’d been using had slipped from your grip and was currently burning a hole through the sleeve of your shirt. When the searing pain of 400 degrees Celsius came into contact with your arm, you jumped back clutching your arm to your chest.

“Fuck! Motherfucking fuck! Jesus motherfucking Christ! Mother fuck, fuck, FUCK!” You scrambled to the sink, yanking up your sleeve and turning the cold water on high.

“Whoa, put a quarter in the swear jar, why don’t ya?” Natasha’s voice rang through the room, obviously having heard your outburst. She came to your side, observing your arm through the clear stream of water, a bored expression plastered her face. “Ehh, I’ve seen worse.”

“You’ve seen worse than a 400 degree Celsius burn?” you asked incredulously, the burning sensation beginning to dwindle as the cold water numbed the pain and flesh.

“Don’t suppose you’ve ever seen what a Vietnam land mine can do to a man, have you?” Natasha asked with blasé, picking up the soldering iron from the floor and turning it off before carefully placing it in its stand.  

“Point made,” you responded, turning the water off and delicately toweling off the area. You inspected your arm further; it wasn’t the worst thing you’d done to yourself in the lab. It may blister, but not bad enough to warrant a hospital visit. Moving to the first aid kit, you pulled out the burn cream and ointment, applying it to your arm followed by a large bandage.

“You’ve been noticeably absent. What’s been keeping you all cooped up?” Nat asked. Her tone was casual, but you’d known her long enough to know that no question from Natasha Romanov was ever casual. Chances are, by the time she was asking you a question she already knew the answer.

“I take it you’ve spoken to Steve then,” you sighed, moving to your workbench and beginning to fiddle with the first thing you saw.

“Something like that—" Natasha smirked “—If you count him glaring at me and insisting it was none of my business, then yes it was a riveting conversation.”

“Then you don’t know what happened?”

“I may have gotten Steve to spill the beans,” said Nat, fighting a small smirk. You rolled your eyes. Spies and their interrogation skills.  

“I didn’t mean to walk in on him! I was thinking about how to fix your stupid bites and—”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” Natasha raised a speculative eyebrow at you, making you backtrack.

“No, no, I just—I saw…I saw him naked Nat! And he saw me naked and…”

“And?” Natasha asked, not fazed at all as to why it was such a big deal.

“I saw him naked and I liked it!” you admitted, leaning over your workbench and burying your face into the cold metal top.

You heard the crass bark of Natasha’s laughter, “Of course you liked it (Y/N), he’s a super soldier. I doubt you’d find a guy nearly as built as him.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about his…ya know!”

“Oh? Please elaborate,” said Natasha, leaning against the workbench opposite of you.

With a heavy sigh, you stood up, holding out your hands out to represent the length of Steve’s well…length. Natasha gasped, “No! You’re lying!”

“I swear to you, I saw it! It was like a baby’s arm holding an apple!”

“Okay – you have officially been spending too much time with Tony,” said Natasha, walking over to you and placing her hands on your shoulders. “Look – you’re going to have to get over this sooner rather than later and by sooner, I mean a few seconds because I may have agreed to distract you so that you couldn’t run when Steve came down here to talk to you.”

“You what?!”

Just as you made to run for the door, Steve walked through it, the entirety of him making the space feel small. You stood there, staring at each other in awkward silence.

“Well—" said Natasha cutting the tension “—I can see that the two of you have a lot to discuss. I’ll just be going.”

And with that the red head was gone, leaving the two of you to stand in silence. You stared at the ground, unable to look at the man without thinking about his…oh god, you couldn’t even say it in your head. In all honesty, it shouldn’t be surprising that the super soldier was packing, but you never expected it to be so MASSIVE. God, this was wrong. He was a human being. Not just some piece of meat. Some thick…big…piece of delicious meat.

“Look, about what happened—” Steve began, but you cut him off.

“I’m so sorry Steve. Really, I wasn’t thinking, and I thought I walked into the women’s locker room and apparently it was the men’s locker room and I really shouldn’t have ogled you the way I did and—”

Steve chuckled, stopping your apology in its tracks, “You’re sorry? Here I thought you were upset with me for checking you out.”

“Truthfully, I didn’t even notice. I was too…um, you were checking me out?”

Steve went bright red, “Well, I mean, yea. You’re a beautiful woman and you were naked. I mean, I’m Captain America, but I’m no saint.”

“Oh.” You were quiet, letting his words settle. Steve thought you were beautiful. That was news to you. “Well, I guess while we’re being honest, you were pretty impressive to look at as well.” Some parts more than others.

“And what parts would that be?”

It wasn’t until Steve asked, eyebrows raised and an amused look on his face that you realized you’d said that last part aloud. Shit.

“Is it my…arms? Legs? Chest?” Steve asked, stepped towards you slowly with a teasing tone in his voice.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. You were thoroughly embarrassed.

“Come on (Y/N), tell me. I need to know what my best feature is.” Clearly Steve was trying to lighten the mood, but if he knew what you really thought his ‘best feature’ was, he wouldn’t be treating this so lightly.

“I don’t really want to—”

“Is it my shoulders? I tend to get complimented on them a lot. Or is it my—”

“Your penis! It was your penis Steve! You literally have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen!” Your hands flew to your mouth, as if you could retroactively grab the words and stuff them back into your brain.

Shock splashed across Steve’s face before quickly dissolving into something different. He took another step towards you, crossing his arms and emphasizing the bulging muscles of his upper body.

“Oh my god. I am absolutely mortified. Please, can we just pretend like I didn’t just—”

“Like you didn’t just say I have the biggest dick you’ve ever seen?” Steve asked, smirking down at you, arms still crossed. The words sounded so delicious coming from his lips and heat began to pool in your center.

“Jesus…yes. That. Can we just pretend like I didn’t say that?” you pleaded. The last thing you needed was Steve of all people teasing you about this.

“Hmmmmm, I don’t think I can.” Steve looked down at you in mock thought, his expression speculative.

“Steve, please. Don’t do this,” you pleaded again, turning away from him and moving across the lab to fuss with some equipment. Maybe if you physically distanced yourself, he’d understand that you didn’t find the joke funny in the least. It might also calm you down – your nipples were so hard you were sure they could be seen through the many layers of clothing you wore.

“Do what?” Steve asked from behind you, his voice slowly growing louder as he approached your turned figure. “I’m just curious. Tell me, have you been thinking about my cock all week? Is that why you’ve been hiding? Avoiding me? Because you can’t stop thinking about it?”

You turned, meeting the hard flesh of his chest. How had he snuck up on you so easily? His words were antagonistic, but seeing his face up close, you realized that his eyes held a dangerous glint to them. You used your tongue to wet your lips, throat suddenly feeling dry, “I um…I—that’s—well that’s just ridiculous.”

“Really? I don’t think so—” He uncrossed his arms, leaning down to brace them against the countertop behind you, invading your space “—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your body either. How it looked. How it would feel in my hands. Would it would be like to have you under me. Over me. Those perfect lips wrapped around me.”

His words had you in a trance. Had Steve really been fantasizing about you the way you’d been fantasizing about him? There was no way he was interested in you seriously. What would he want with the space cadet in the labs? It had to be purely physical. You’d never been one for casual anything. Still, the thought of his hard, long member in your mouth made you salivate. You squirmed, thighs rubbing together and a small whimper escaping your lips.

“Oh (Y/N), sweetie. If you wanted a taste, all you had to do was ask,” said Steve, his tone condescending. Reaching a hand up, he tapped you lightly on the nose before pushing away from you and reaching for his belt. You watched as he undid the buckle followed by the button of his slacks and then slowly slid his zipper down. Slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, he pushed the fabric down just enough to reveal the entirety of him. He was even bigger than you remembered – although that might be because the last time you’d seen it, he’d been fully flaccid. Now, you watched as the smooth skin slowly tightened as he grew in length. He grasped himself in one of his large hands and stroked himself a few times, smirking confidently at your slack expression.

“Well—” he motioned down to his fisted cock “—get on your knees sweetie. It’s not going to suck itself.”

The words should have angered you. They should have sparked a small flame of defiance that said, ‘suck it yourself, you asshole’. He was being presumptuous, cocky, demeaning.

And yet…

You dropped to your knees, wasting no time as you wrapped your lips around the thick head. He was thick, unimaginably so, but that didn’t deter you. Relaxing your jaw, you let your tongue run along the underside of the tip. He tasted heady, raw, masculine. The musk of his skin and salt of his precum coated your tongue as you took him deeper. Forming a seal around what length you could manage, you sucked languidly, bringing a hand up to grip the sizable rest of him.

Steve moaned, a hand coming down to lightly rest of the top of your head as you bobbed on his cock, “That’s it. What a little cock slut. You like that? You like worshipping this dick? You can barely get halfway down but look at you try. It’s so adorable.”

You shuddered, his words causing a visceral reaction in your body. You could feel it, the wetness building between your legs. Sinking deeper onto his length, relaxing your throat and allowing just the tip to pass the threshold, you slid a hand down your body and up your skirt. Not even making it to the inside of your panties, you felt the proof of your arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. You moaned, trailing your fingertips over the slick and up to meet your soaked center.

Fingers threaded into the hair on the back of your head and yanked harshly. You cried out, reaching up to grip Steve’s forearm as he pulled you roughly off his cock and back up to your feet.

“Look at you,” he said, running a thumb over your spit soaked lips, the saliva dribbling down your chin as you breathed heavily. “So pretty.” He pressed his thumb past your lips, letting it rest against the flat of your tongue as he gripped your jaw tightly in his hand. Slowly, he slid the digit further and further back before removing it and replacing it with two of his fingers. When he reached the back of your throat and met no resistance he kept going, a look of pride on his face. He was impressed. He fucked your throat with his fingers, your hair still gripped painfully in his other hand. When he was satisfied, he pulled his wet fingers from your mouth and brought them down below your skirt, shoving past your panties and using the moisture to rub your already sopping cunt. You whimpered at his touch.

His eyes never left yours, his unwavering gaze challenging you to say something. To say anything resembling a no. It was like a test. A test to see how far he could push you. How far you’d let him push the boundaries of what was and was not acceptable. So, this was what the great Captain America was into. You could tell he liked to see you like this, pliable like putty in his hands. His to shape and mold. You could see it in the way he almost vibrated with satisfaction when you gave in. When you let him use you like an object. In that moment, you never felt more like an object. Steve made you feel like you were nothing but a body to play with and use for his pleasure. The way he looked at you. Like he wanted to possess you. No. Like he already owned you. Your mind told you to run. It told you that everything he was doing was wrong. But your body, your body had never felt so alive. If Steve Rogers wanted to treat you like an object, then call you a fucking lamp.

Sighing in satisfaction, Steve gripped your hair tighter and began to walk, dragging you towards your small loveseat. Tripping over yourself, you attempted to keep up with his long, fast strides. He pulled you roughly onto the cushions, positioning you onto your back with your head hanging off the side. Your skin prickled with anticipation as he flipped your skirt up, yanking the thin material of your panties down your legs. Next was your shirt – body raising off the couch long enough for him to pull the material over your head. The cups of your bra were pulled roughly down, revealing the soft flesh of your breasts, nipples peaked. He gave the sensitive tips a gentle squeeze; your body arched into his touch.

“So sensitive. I like that,” Steve hummed, moving to stand above your head. Gripping his shaft, he pressed the tip to the seam of your lips, “Open.”

You did as you were told, opening wide to allow his length to slowly slide into your mouth. Conscientious of your teeth, you took him as deep as you could. When his cock met the barrier of your throat, Steve’s hand came down to stroke the delicate skin of your neck. He ran the tips of his fingers along the length, his touch feather light.

“Relax. Breathe through your nose.” His voice was firm and commanding. Tilting your head further back, you relaxed your tongue and throat, allowing him to slide further and further until his pubic bone met your chin. At the realization that you had managed to take all of him down your throat, your pussy clenched, and clit throbbed. Breathing heavily through your nose, you waited as Steve kept himself still inside your mouth.

“Now—" Steve began, breath coming in rough pants, “—I’m going to fuck this tight little throat of yours. How does that sound?”

You moaned around his length, making him growl at the vibrations.

“Oh, I think you like that. Why don’t you touch that little pussy? Play with your little clit while I fuck your throat with my cock.”

You touched yourself, the sweet pull of his erection only adding to your arousal as he began to thrust in and out of you. He was gentle at first, taking his time. But very quickly his pace became erratic and so did your fingers at your center. Dipping your hand down, you fingered yourself, feeling the building sensation of an orgasm on the brink already. A second hand at your core caught you off guard. Steve was leaning over you, his own hand pushing your fingers out of the way and diving into your depths. His fingers were longer and wider than your own, reaching places previously untouched.  

“Fuck! You are absolutely dripping. Does this turn you on? My fat cock using your little throat? If I’d known you were such a little slut for big cock, I would have shown it to you a long time ago.” He continued to finger you, your own hand at your clit, hips bucking uncontrollably as you chased your completion. You were growing lightheaded, unable to breathe through your nose as well, as he used you for his pleasure.

“You’re close. I can feel it. Come on my fingers. Come on my fingers while I come down this tight little fuck hole,” demanded Steve, fingers picking up pace. His other hand wrapped around your throat, feeling his own cock moving through the thin layer of flesh. He squeezed ever so lightly, the pressure making him moan. Your vision began to turn black, head drifting ever higher as the coil in your womb grew tighter and tighter until it was too much. Your body convulsed under him, crying weakly around his length as your orgasm took over. The last thing making it into the conscious forefront of your mind, the sound of Steve’s own release and the warm sensation of his cum splashing down your throat.

When you came back to reality, you found yourself wrapped up in the warm arms of a certain super soldier. Seated on his lap, he rocked you gently, a large hand stroking your back, your hair, your face. Blinking up at him, he smiled down at you. All traces of the hard, patronizing, possessive man were gone. Replaced with the soft, kind eyes of the Steve Rogers you and the rest of the world knew.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, voice soft, as he stroked your cheek.

Your own ‘hi’ came out cracked and hoarse, evidence of the rough session that had just occurred. Steve looked down at you, his face a mixture of adoration and regret.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, “I’m so sorry (Y/N). I didn’t mean to lose control like that, I just—you just—” The words escaped him. He looked away exasperatedly.

You reached a hand up, cupping his face and making him look back down at you, “Hey, I’m okay. I’m a big girl. You didn’t break me.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful when he returned it.

“Are you sure? I mean, you passed out,” Steve said, giving you a look akin to a kicked puppy.

Who was this man, that he could go from dominant and possessive to sweet and child-like so quickly? Shaking your head, you laughed lightly, lifting up to place a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, his lips soft and firm against your own. He held you close, arms strong and protective around you. Pulling away, you looked up into the blue azure of his eyes, “I’m sure. Besides, you know me – always stuck in my head.”

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

[itsthejuggernautbitch]

Is nebula a top or bottom with another woman - i need to know please and give examples to explain your answer 😜

Trick question - she’s a switch. Happy holidays, y’all!

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

Nebula has never let people into her life - openness simply didn’t come naturally. But she was naturally stubborn, always had been. Thanos’s influence had only reinforced her natural pigheadedness. She’d been trained alongside her so-called siblings since the day Thanos took her in to get the job done by any means necessary without succumbing to the influences around her. Whatever needed to be done, she could do it. Suffice it to say that her lifestyle wasn’t great for personal relationships.

And of course, she was known as the biggest sadist in the galaxy for many. She’d gotten that title early on in life, always showing a propensity for being harder, better, meaner than everyone else. That special brand of sadism stretched over most aspects of her life, all the way down to the fun, sexy stuff. When a job needed to be completed with allure rather than outright murderous force, she would use her proclivities to keep the upper hand. There’s flattery, there’s touching and whispers in her mark’s ear in her honeyed voice, and there’s control. 

Yeah, she has an issue with control. She knows. No, there’s not much she can do to alleviate that. But with you… Well, you’re different. There’s control - and make no mistake, she loves that control - but then there’s the conscious choice to relinquish that control. And it’s very, very enticing.

It took you a long time to chip away at the mild suspicion Nebula carries for every living thing around her, but once you’d proven yourself to be different, the good soul was able to show through. And once you finally had her trust, your few-and-far-between nights together evolved from you on your back with your hands and feet tied to a smooth exchange of responsibility. To that end, you’d convinced Nebula, finally, to give up the control she craves. 

Tonight is your night to call the shots. Nebula agreed to it, promised, and Nebula doesn’t back out on her promises. 

When Nebula showed up at your room on Contraxia, she’d dressed in her usual leather-esque armor and a thick cloak to keep her warm in the planet’s frozen tundra. A delicate web of frost covered the mechanical parts of her face, as they were the only bits of her that couldn’t fight the cold. She hung up her cloak by the door and stood just beyond the threshold of the door. 

Nebula had never been great at hiding her feelings with you, but she’d always been able to present a strong front. But when she stood before you in your personal chambers, she was visibly nervous.

“You’re late,” you said, sitting on the edge of your bed. You crossed your legs and waited for her to step inside and close the door.

Nebula surveyed your room, gaze lingering on the flashy colors. Your room is a hodgepodge of color, bright and airy, filled to capacity with pillows and blankets, and altogether wholesome. Luckily for you, you’d been given a room where the view from your window was the backside of Contraxia, all trees and snowflakes, so you could at least pretend that your visits together took place in a beautiful winter wonderland rather than a sprawling space brothel.

“You know my father doesn’t like to stop here,” Nebula replied. She shut the door behind her and meandered in a little further from the door. “Gamora has a job to do here. Hence why I was able to come at all.”

You sighed, guilty. You know its not her fault that she’s late, but it had been months since you’d seen her in person. Her absence had been stifling. “I’m sorry. I’m grateful for any time I get to spend with you, even if it’s not as much as I would like.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Nebula said. She was wholly out of place among the warm tones; they made her blue skin pop even more brightly. “He’s been… even more strict with leave lately.”

You motioned for Nebula to come sit next to you, and she meandered over with hesitation. You understood why she was still nervous to meet you sometimes, even though you’d tried to convince her that she (and you) was safe on Contraxia. But she’d been trained to never be fully at ease anywhere, and it would take a long time - if ever - to convince her that she was safe with you in your room. “Do you think he knows?”

“About us?” Nebula asks, staring at your face. You reached out to take her hands and settled them into your lap. “Yes, I’m sure he does. But he does not begrudge any of us what he deems are… small distractions. He considers it generosity - a reward for being cooped up on the ship for so long.”

You rubbed circles into the backs of her hands with your thumbs, smirking. “I’d say I’m more than a small distraction.”

Nebula nodded. “I agree. He, on the other hand, does not share the same opinion.”

You take her chin and tilt it towards you. She’s taller than you, even sitting down. “Well, best to let him believe what he wants to believe. About this, at least.”

“We don’t have as much time as I would like,” Nebula said, mirroring your movement. She took your cheek in her hand, her thumb bracing your chin. “But we do have tonight.”

“Let’s not waste time, then.” You stood up and pulled Nebula to her feet. “Are you still okay with the proposed arrangement this time?”

Nebula averted her eyes. “…Yes.”

“You hesitated. Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can do the usual…”

“I am eager,” Nebula said, matter-of-factly. “But I am… not used to this.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” 

No hesitation that time. That was a good sign. She usually hesitated if you asked her that. You stood up on your tiptoes to kiss her. “Then you know I’ll stop if you want.”

“Yes,” Nebula said. “Well, let’s begin.”

You walked over to your nightstand and produced two lengths of black fabric. You set them on the edge of the bed before turning to face her. “Undress, then.”

“Undress me,” Nebula said, automatically.

You grinned. “That’s not the arrangement.”

Nebula twitched. "You're right."

She moved to start undressing, reaching behind her back to grab at her zipper, but you stopped her before she could pull it down. You took her hands and brought one up to your face so you could kiss the inside of her wrist. "I can see how uncomfortable you are, you know."

"I won’t be uncomfortable for long. I will deal with it."

"I don't want you to deal with it. I want you to enjoy this experience," you insisted. You brought both her hands up to your chest and held them there, right against your heart. “I never get to see you, Nebula. I don’t get to offer you this nearly as often as you deserve. If your complete enjoyment means we change the arrangement this time, then that’s fine.”

“I will enjoy it,” Nebula assured, though you could see she almost didn’t believe it herself. “This is different. I will adapt.”

“Please, please, tell me if you-”

“Yes.” Nebula pulled her hands away and reached behind her back again. “I believe you told me to undress?”

You searched her face, looking for any hint that she may back out. You knew better than to believe she ultimately would, though. She would eschew her own comfort in the face of backing down from a challenge. You supposed, at the end of the day, that was the basis of this arrangement anyway - trading the comfort and safety of the usual affair for a different pleasure.

“...I did, yes,” you said, stepping back away from her. “Leave your clothes on the chair when you’ve finished.”

Nebula obeyed without another word, first removing the leather-substitute vest she favorited. She discarded the band underneath next, exposing her torso completely. You watched intently, gaze lingering on her face, her neck, her soft breasts; she didn’t shy away from your gaze, merely meeting it with her usual intensity. Next, her pants and underwear followed. She folded her clothes into a neat stack and deposited them on the chair in the corner of the room.

You crooked your finger when she looked at you expectantly. “Come here.”

Nebula’s march was slow, purposeful, as she crossed the room. As many times as you’d seen her like this - naked, stalking through your room like a cat - you would never get tired of it. Every scar, every modification, every inch of her was perfect. Even if this arrangement was different, even if you were the one commanding her this time, her presence was inescapable, as if she had her own gravitational pull. You would make sure that she received the utmost pleasure despite her reservations and her discomfort.

“Undress me. Leave everything in the chair.”

Nebula removed everything from the top down, piece by piece, and folded it all into a neat little stack. Her fingers twitched at every clasp, wanting to touch and feel, but she continued on without faltering. You hadn’t been wearing many layers to begin with, so it didn’t take her long to remove everything and consolidate it into a small stack. Once she was finished, she left everything in the chair and returned to her place.

“Sit.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on the sheets next to her. You slipped between her legs, nudging her thighs apart with your knees. You placed your palms on her cheeks and turned her face up to look at you. 

“You will listen…” you began, rubbing circles into her cheekbones with your thumbs. She nodded, careful not to shake your hands off. “I am going to tie your hands above your head. You may speak, if you wish. I may inflict pain, if the mood strikes. I will stop immediately if you use your words, and we will evaluate how to proceed from there.”

Nebula answered with a wordless, slight nod. 

“Very well,” you said. “Let’s begin.”

You leaned in to kiss her, pressing your mouth to hers. She surged up to meet you, hungry and eager for physical contact. Her lips were soft and pliant, wholly perfect as they moulded to yours. Your hands slipped down from her cheeks to her shoulders, squeezing all the taut muscle. That would have to be enough for the time being; you wanted to make her work for it.

You pushed her shoulders gently and stepped away. “Lay back. Cross your wrists above your head.”

Again, she obeyed. You climbed into her lap and straddled her waist, reaching out for one of the black ties you’d left on the bed earlier. As you leaned over her to tie the cloth around her wrists, your breasts hung in her face, inviting her to kiss, to bite, to suck. You almost wished she would, but she remained still. Her only movement was the strained twitch of her wrists when you tied the cloth around them. 

You slid down her body and stopped to press a kiss to her throat and trailed your lips down her chest, pausing to flick her nipple with your tongue. You circled each peak languidly with the tip of your tongue, taking special care to rasp over them until you were sure she must have been getting sore. Still, she stayed silent and still. Such determination she had - it made you smile. You took one dusty blue nipple between your teeth and bit down, finally pulling a whimper from deep in her throat. She bucked against you, but you held her hips down with your elbows.

You moved up to hover over her, making sure that she could see your face. “I am going to make you make that noise again. I will make you moan louder every single time.”

You sat up and moved to the side so that you straddled just her thigh. You trailed your hand down her body to the junction between her legs and probed down the line of her clit. You dipped the tip of your finger in and found her already dripping wet. In an effort to make her moan again, you pressed the pad of your thumb down against her clit and pushed a finger in, massaging in slow circles. With your other hand, you continued to tease the breast closest to your side, pinching and pulling at her nipple. 

Her fists clenched and unclenched, but she made no move to pull them free. You pushed another finger in and she whimpered again, inviting you to press down harder, pump your fist faster. You declined to oblige and maintained the same slow, torturous pace.

“Harder,” she gasped, bucking up against your hand.

“Was that an order?” you asked, rubbing your cunt against her thigh.

“A request.”

Instead of doing as she asked, you pulled your fingers out and climbed off of her thigh. She breathed deep and relaxed back into your mattress, equal parts frustrated by and relieved for the short reprieve. And didn’t she look perfect - legs spread, hands tied above her head, watching you like she’d chase you to the ends of the universe. 

“I’m not taking requests tonight.” You reached for the second length of cloth. It had been shoved to a corner of the mattress, almost completely off the bed. “I think it’s time we moved on… Lift your head.”

You tied the cloth around her head, covering her eyes. She tensed up, scrunching up her nose and clenching her fists again. Once you’d secured the blindfold in place, you ran your palm down her cheek and leaned in to kiss her. This kiss wasn’t like the first - heated and hungry. This was soft and reassuring, just the brush of your mouth on hers - a promise that she was in good hands. She leaned into the kiss but didn’t unclench her hands.

“Relax,” you murmured into her ear, kissing her cheek. You climbed off the bed and strode over to your dresser. In the second drawer was a gilded little box, just large enough to house a small collection of toys you saved just for Nebula. You extracted a harness and slipped it on over your hips, affixing the necessary equipment to the proper place. Once you were satisfied your harness was secure, you fished a second toy out of the box and a bottle of lube. “Roll onto your stomach.”

Nebula complied, but slowly. She was perfect from head to toe, taut and muscular - battle-hardened. You ran your hand down her spine, marvelling at the bumps and cords of muscle overlayed with knotted scars and half-healed scratches. She flexed, arching into your touch, and sighed your name.

“Is the teasing necessary?” Nebula huffed, impatient as always.

“Only to make you learn patience,” you replied, smirking. 

You slipped your hand down between her thighs and found her entrance, working your fingers into the softness. Her breath hitched with every movement, muscles twitching and contracting as you stretched her open and placed the tip of the toy against her. You extracted your fingers and eased the tip in, moving just slowly enough to let her adjust to the feeling. Her thighs tensed, trembling, as you eased all the way in, circling her clit with just enough pressure to make her groan.

You moved experimentally, thrusting in and out as slowly as you could. Nebula groaned again, made a noise that was close to words, but cut off when you pushed in just a little harder. She clenched her fists again, unable to move to gain any kind of relief, and shoved her cheek down into the mattress. You thrust in again, this time hard enough to make her spine arch. You leaned over her, pressing down against her back and continuously moving your hips, and licked the shell of her ear. 

“Stop teasing and let me-”

You kissed the spot just under her earlobe. “That sounds like an order. Do you want me to stop?”

“No, just-”

You thrust again, cutting her off with a loud groan. “Just what? Please, do tell.”

“Just let me come.”

It wasn’t an order so much as it was begging, albeit in Nebula’s curt voice. It was the closest you’d ever heard her come to pleading - or even asking nicely. You thought about teasing her into saying please, but it was extremely likely that you’d never get her to that point. She’d choke on the words before they’d come out of her mouth.

You giggled in her ear, enjoying the shiver that ran down her spine. “You’re so sensitive. Go ahead.”

You thrust again, circling her clit, until she tensed under you. When she finally unclenched, she rested against your mattress, almost boneless. You pulled out and dropped the harness to the floor before climbing onto the bed next to her and pulling her into your lap. You pull the tie on the fabric around her wrists and eyes and toss each length to the side.

“Are you okay?” you asked, kissing the top of Nebula’s head. She looked up at you, equal parts soft and fierce. Your heart aches knowing that she can’t stay here with you, but you’ve resolved to make the most of the rest of your night. 

Nebula doesn’t answer so much as climbs on top of you. You take that to mean she’s okay.

[verbumincarcerem]

Stowaway

Here it is. The thing that nobody wanted that I wrote anyway. Treasure Planet, me/Silver, no regerts.

Chapter 1

It was obvious that women were more suited to wearing pants than men, who had the bits to actually warrant loose, flowing skirts, but no one was asking Melody Westfire her insider’s opinion on the matter. At the moment, public interest in her was at an all-time low, and she greatly preferred the change. Melody had thought a man—even a woman pretending to be one—would warrant all kinds of unwelcome attention at a bustling spaceport, but she was as invisible as she would’ve been cooped up at her father’s estate.

Still, she had no time to linger. Getting to the Montressor Spaceport hadn’t been difficult, but every second she lingered in Crescentia was a second she could be caught and dragged back to Fleet Admiral Edmund Westfire, who was far more likely to flay her for insubordination and humiliating him than to welcome her back with open arms.

Melody and her father had not gotten along for quite some time, and he especially wouldn’t like her if he realized how much she’d stolen from him on her way out. Indeed, the knapsack she carried over her shoulder was heavier than it ought to have been, seemingly containing only a change of clothes, basic necessities, and oddly rolled socks, and she tried not to betray in any way that, with it, she was a walking safe of riches.

White sails of Royal Navy ships and merchant craft stretched toward the clouds, bright even against the tanned buildings of the artificial satellite, but Melody couldn’t go down to the docks just yet. Instead, she checked that her ponytail was still in place—tied low on her neck in adherence to the current fashion of young men but which truthfully drove her and her neck crazy—and slipped inside a pawn shop to conduct her first order of business.

The alien merchant inside barely had time to glance up at her before she slammed down her engagement ring on the glass counter. “I need to pawn this,” she said in a tone that was slightly deeper than her usual.

Instead of taking the ring and examining the diamonds at its center and along the band, the alien narrowed its milky white eyes at her. Melody became grateful for many factors in her favor at the moment: the low lighting of the shop despite the perfectly sunny day outside; the brims of her tricorn hat that left shadows upon her clean-shaven face; her short stature that could explain the smoothness of her skin and her face’s other feminine features.

In a voice that was surprisingly clear though tinged with the native accent of Montressor, the alien said, “She say no, boy?”

With one short grunt and the clearing of her throat, Melody let out an approximation of painful admission, righteous fury, and acute embarrassment. She shoved her hands in her pockets, hunched her shoulders, and turned her face to stare at a rack full of assorted timepieces as if to say, I don’t want to talk about my feelings ever, so quit asking.

She’d learned a lot by watching the boys at the naval academy.

The alien picked up the ring between two spindly fingers that had more phalanges than a human’s and brought it close to his left eye. He stared for a long time, never reaching for anything even resembling a loupe to inspect the quality. Melody suspected something about those white eyes accomplished it for him, that perhaps eye sensitivity was why the shop was so dark.

At last, the alien stared unblinkingly at her, the ring held between them. “I can give you two thousand drabloons for this.”

Melody took a step towards the counter, leaning her hip and arm against it. “I want five.”

“Impossible,” the alien shook his head. “This is an old ring. The band is beginning to tarnish, and the setting is loose. The most I can loan for it is two thousand five hundred.”

“It’s an heirloom and, by all rights, priceless, but I have no more use for it.” Melody was nowhere near tall enough to loom over anyone, particularly not an alien who was already taller than her sitting down, but she hoped the commanding tone of her voice did the trick. “Four thousand.”

His face turned bland with annoyance. “Thirty-two,” he bit out, “or nothing.”

Melody rapt her fingers on the counter in quick succession. “Done.”

It was less than she’d hoped for, but she was glad to see the ring and the connection she had to her despicable betrothed, a navy lieutenant she’d wanted nothing to do with from the get-go, disappear from her life. Even better that with an illegible electronic signature, the drabloons became available to her offshore account in the blink of an eye.

“You’ll have three weeks to pay back the loan,” the alien said by rote, “or I have the right to resell. In the meantime, the interest rate—”

“No offense,” Melody said, already backing away towards the door, “but I couldn’t care less. Sell away!”

When she stepped outside, the light nearly blinded her, but she pulled the brim of her hat lower and set off, ignoring the feel of the alien’s honed stare at her back. Ever since she left home, she’d been paranoid and trying not to be obvious about it. She told herself again that she was imagining more suspicion than she was actually gaining—none of it for the reasons she feared since she was traveling so incognito—and she managed to believe it until a series of wanted posters by the entrance to a popular bar caught her eye.

They featured what she expected to see: at-large war criminals from the conflict between the Terran Empire and the Procyon Expanse and, of course, pirates. Billy Bones was still there, featuring a hefty bounty and an old projection of his face and turtle-like features. As far back as she could remember, the hunt for Billy Bones, dead or alive, had been on, and he’d never been caught for long. Beside his poster was one for a pirate dubbed “Long John,” but since no projection was given, the poster only offered a description and a bounty. Melody was about to read it, until the surface of Billy Bones’ wanted poster flickered and vanished. In her experience, that meant he’d either been reported as captured at last or killed, but that wasn’t what made her entire body go still with shock.

It was seeing her own face appear in Bones’ place on the page, her brown hair cascading down her shoulders and the top of the white bodice of what would’ve been her wedding dress if she’d stayed. It was like staring at night and day. The Melody on the wall was elegant, almost coldly so, her face sharpened and her pale coloring heightened with cosmetics so that her blue eyes appeared brighter than robin’s eggs. The Melody staring at this aloof stranger from the street had flecks of dust and dirt on her face, and she wore brown worker’s pants, a hat, boots, and a loose, sand-colored top that covered an almost flat chest, thanks to her breast bindings. By comparison to her past self, Melody felt self-consciously, unrecognizably boyish—perhaps even ugly—and relief stole over her briefly because that was, after all, the entire point of her disguise.

Fleet Admiral Westfire would not stall in having others attempt to find his wayward daughter before she could escape port. Long gone, too, were the days where women were reviled as “bad luck” on voyages, and Melody often scoffed that, centuries ago, people had actually believed it in the dark days before intergalactic travel. As a lady and a fleet admiral’s daughter, Melody would’ve had no trouble boarding any ship of her choosing, but staying on it? Going uncaptured—especially after her father issued a search warrant and reward for her? Impossible.

But no one would be looking for a boy.

Melody ripped her wanted poster down, the projection vanishing as she crumpled the page and tossed it into the nearest disposal unit. She didn’t even feel flattered that her father had emphasized her safe return or that he was offering a small fortune to anyone with information about her whereabouts, let alone what he would give if someone physically brought her to him.

Instead, her pace quickened, making a beeline for the docks. She needed to get on a ship, now.

Stowing away on a ship wasn’t the hard part. With how busy each crew was preparing for their respective launches, no one had time to question whether or not so-and-so was a longtime crewmate or if they were newly hired aboard. Royal Navy vessels were a different beast altogether when it came to unfamiliarity among crewmates. Now that the war with the Procyon had lulled, wealthy members of Terran society could hire naval ships for personal ventures, staffing their own crew and calling upon the navy to supply the ships and appropriate leadership in the form of captains, first mates, and commanders.

Melody spotted one such vessel at the tail end of the dock. The RLS Legacy was a fine ship even without the glory of her sails being yet unfurled for all to see and admire. Sleek and narrow for increased mobility, the ship was also made of pale wood along the hull and warm wood upon the deck that gleamed like caramel in the light.

The crew themselves was the giveaway. They appeared more rough and tumble than navel cadets would have walking around in their crisp jackets of either red or blue and the matching cream uniforms underneath. Only one such uniform was visible among them, worn by a hulking alien whose face resembled that of moving stone as he ordered the other spacers about. First mate, Melody guessed, by the red coat he wore, but the insignia on his lapel would tell her for certain. Before she could leave her lookout post, a metal…thing and a human boy approached the ship, exchanging words with the first mate as they crossed the gangplank.

Funders of the voyage, no doubt.

Taking a deep, calming breath to help combat her racing heart, Melody rechecked her ponytail, adjusted her knapsack so it tied around her waist, straightened her clothes, and marched toward the ship. Acting like she belonged there and nowhere else, she grabbed a crate of supplies and began helping the other spacers load up the Legacy, making sure she never made eye contact with anyone or stayed in one place too long.

No one paid her a second glance until the ship had already launched.

Melody had forgotten what a ship launch felt like. The shockwave that rumbled the deck, the blast of heat from the engines, how the wind picked up as the ship rose, leaving the buildings below far behind until you couldn’t make out their individual corners and edges. Her favorite and most thrilling part had always been the part that also terrified her the most: the brief moment where you were weightless until the ship’s artificial gravity activated, and then the engines flared, shooting the vessel forward with canon fire velocity.

But never before had she experienced it from a crewmate’s standpoint. Everyone had a job to do on deck, and it became obvious to certain spacers that she didn’t have one assigned.

So Melody was not surprised when a few of them cornered her while she was busy untangling herself from the ropes of the mizzenmast thanks to the ship’s slingshot launch.

“What have we here?” one of them growled as he got far too close to her face. He looked like a cross between a lobster and a spider. “A rat on the ship?”

“I ain’t seem ‘im before,” another alien confirmed, his face seeming to occupy his entire chest. “So he ain’t one of ours. Maybe the captain’s?”

“You could always ask,” Melody pointed out, “rather than speculating right in front of me.”

The two aliens shared a glance, full of distaste and suspicion. Melody analyzed the statement, wondering what about it could’ve pissed them off already. She hadn’t said it with that much bite.

It was the spider alien who stepped forward with his many legs, his claw-like hand snatching her arm and clamping down hard. “There’s only one good use for ship stowaways. Know what it is, boy?”

Melody didn’t, but it was the other alien who answered gleefully, “For tossing overboard!”

The spider alien had only started to drag her toward the railing of the main deck—toward that endless abyss of stars—when the words’ meanings and their intentions caught up to her.

Terror spiked through her. Swiftly followed by outrage and her fist. Melody wasn’t sure what all her fist was connecting to, but she and the spider alien tumbled on the deck, instantly attracting the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

Including both the first mate and the captain of the RLS Legacy.

“Does it strike you as odd to discover that I’m not a fan of freeloaders on my ship?” Captain Amelia demanded, her eyebrow raised in judgment. “Particularly one who sees fit to start a brawl on deck just seconds after launch?”

Melody felt particularly shabby standing before the captain and her crisp blue uniform, knee-high black boots, and sleek figure, and that was without the new bleeding cut she’d acquired on her forehead. The spider alien had managed to land a hit on Melody before the ship’s first mate had wrenched them apart, yelling his disappointment about each of their failings at the top of his lungs.

His words about her “moronic bearing and doubtlessly despicable upbringing” still stung, so Melody responded with a short “No, ma’am” to the captain, demonstrating that, yes, she did have manners. She stood in the captain’s quarters, hands resting harmlessly by her side as she tried to appear as contrite as possible, which to a certain extent she was, though her next words implied otherwise. “But I didn’t start it. He tried to throw me overboard.”

“We did suspect Mr. Scroop would be trouble,” said Mr. Arrow, the man in the red coat who Melody now knew for certain was the captain’s first mate. Thinking that perhaps he’d warmed up to her, Melody threw a grateful glance over her shoulder at Mr. Arrow stationed by the door, but his face was still stern with disapproval. “But that doesn’t excuse your presence here, boy. If this were a less disciplined ship, Mr. Scroop would be viewed favorably for his actions.”

“Though Mr. Arrow raises a good point, as always,” the captain said, shooting him a fond look before sobering, “that is not the matter at hand. Convince me why I shouldn’t turn this ship around and hand you over to the authorities.”

“Because Crescentia is already a very long way behind us, and to account for the extra fuel used to ferry one person to and fro, you’d have to cut into the crew’s wages or beg more funding from your benefactor, something both parties would likely riot about.” Heart stampeding in her chest, Melody noted the frustration creeping into the captain’s feline features and revised tactics. “I don’t expect a free ride,” she said to her. “I know this expedition is likely funded with a strict budget by—someone.”

“Doctor Doppler,” the captain confirmed, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly, though whether it was with amusement or exasperation, Melody couldn’t tell.

“He wasn’t the man in the metal suit, by any chance?”

“The very same,” Amelia said dryly. “For an astrophysicist, the doctor is highly eccentric.”

“Yes,” Melody continued, “so I imagine there’s nothing in the budget to pay me with, but that’s alright. I don’t need money, just passage. In exchange, I’ll work in whatever capacity I can with no complaint, and the next time you make port, I’ll be on my way.”

“I’m sure you would be, if we were making port.”

Melody stared at the captain. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve seen your type countless times. It’s obvious that you’re running from something. Authorities, responsibilities, it doesn’t really matter in the end.” Amelia braced a hand over the map stretched out on her desk, and Melody saw that her claws were out and extremely sharp.

But Amelia merely leaned against the desk, keeping her unwavering attention on her stowaway. “We are not traveling to another occupied port for you to escape to. We are on a retrieval mission, and regardless of whether we succeed in said retrieval or not, we will be returning to Crescentia in four months’ time, if all goes well.” Captain Amelia pushed off the desk and came to stand before Melody, hands clasped behind her back, and here was a woman who did know how to loom. “There will be nowhere for you to hide. In the meantime, I expect you to work, or I’ll allow Mr. Scroop to finish what he started.”

So all this, and Melody had chosen wrong. She’d return back where she started. Part of her hoped that four months would be long enough for her father to assume she’d already left the system far behind, that she wouldn’t do something as foolish as to return, but another part knew better. Those wanted posters would still be there, and bounty hunters were nothing if not relentless. Captain Amelia might even be the one to turn her over to the authorities, unaware that her stowaway was actually a missing heir to an empire.

Or perhaps not. Melody held the captain’s gaze knowing this was the moment of truth. She hadn’t expected to encounter another woman on board, let alone a captain, and if Melody needed her disguise to fool anyone, it needed to be Captain Amelia.

Too many beats of silence passed. Melody felt her breath starting to shudder past her lips when Amelia pulled back, brows raised in surprise. “Good Lord, you’re white as a sheet. Come now, young man, you didn’t actually believe that little threat, did you? You’re not on a pirate ship, you know.”

Melody was so relieved—for so many reasons—that she struggled to speak. “Right. Apologies. No disrespect meant, ma’am.”

The captain shrugged, exchanging another look with Mr. Arrow. “None taken, I suppose, Mr.—?”

“Oh.” Snapping to attention, Melody replied, “You can call me Mel, Captain. Mel Dawson.”

“Very well, Mr. Dawson.” Melody didn’t have time to think about how strange it felt to speak her mother’s maiden name aloud or even hear it spoken back to her because Captain Amelia had already flung open the doors to her quarters and was marching toward the deck. Melody rushed to keep up. “I don’t have time to teach a green spacer like yourself the ropes, if you’ll pardon the expression, and nor does Mr. Arrow. Fortunately, there is someone here already making time for Mr. Hawkins, and I doubt your additional presence will make much difference.”

The captain led Melody downstairs into the bowels of the ship where they met a series of empty wooden tables. Amelia wasted no time marching past them, and Melody followed behind her sure steps, taking in the area much more slowly.

Other than the benches, the saloon was largely dark and barren, the exact opposite of the next room Melody found herself in. Pots, pans, and cooking utensils hung from the ovular walls and pipes curving the room, and in its center was a large pot boiling with some sort of soup resting upon a raised, circular stove, its heated burner casting a warm orange glow over everything.

Captain Amelia had brought her to the galley, but that wasn’t what caught her eye. It was that the boy she’d seen from the docks was already here, his brown hair pulled back in a rat tail and his arms elbow deep in soap suds as he scrubbed a pile of dirty pots and pans with a brush. Not looking up from his furious scrubbing, he said, “You’re making that up.”

“I swear by all the stars, I most certainly am not, lad!”

Melody searched for the other voice, which was light and drawling even in its roughness, and stared when, rising up from the other side of the stove clutching vials of spices in his hand, a man came into view.

An incredibly large man, with an incredibly large hand.

An Ursid, Melody noted, though the fact that this man was an alien was hardly his most obvious feature.

No, that honor was shared between his left arm and leg, which were both mechanical wonders of cybernetics. Melody watched, mesmerized, as the gears and gyros in the man’s arm shifted with seamless whirrs, turning from a cyborg hand into an assortment of tools. Cleaver, scissors, cutting knives, claws, the metal twisting, shaping, and reforming into each as the man busied himself with his tasks.

“Your attention, please, gentlemen,” Captain Amelia interrupted their conversation.

The boy looked at the captain rather sullenly, but the cyborg’s countenance brightened as he turned, revealing that he also possessed a golden, cybernetic left eye. “Back again, eh, Cap’n? Missing my fine company already?”

“For your unwanted flattery, Silver, I’ve brought another pup for you to train.” Amelia pushed Melody forward with a hand on her shoulder. “Mel Dawson, this is John Silver, the ship’s cook, and James Hawkins, his cabin boy, a title you now share.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This lad’s a bit politer than Mr. Hawkins,” Amelia said, fixing Melody with a stern look, “but anymore fisticuffs with the paid crew, and you’ll spend the rest of the voyage in the brig, understood?”

Melody grimaced at the dressing down, and the looks of surprised interest Hawkins and Silver sent her did nothing to stave off her embarrassment. “Yes, ma’am.”

The captain must have sensed it, too, for she merely nodded. “Carry on, then, and tend to that,” Amelia indicated at Melody’s cut, “or you can expect an additional earful from the ship’s doctor.”

“Who’s—” Melody started, but the captain had already turned on her heel, exiting the galley.

Silence had barely settled between the three remaining spacers before Silver exclaimed with a hefty sigh, “Jim, why are ya just sittin’ there? We don’t want no more earfuls or, most importantly, interruptions. Lend the boy some soap.”

Melody raised a hand to ward them off, the other brushing away the blood. The cut stung on contact, but just as quickly, the pain faded. A shallow, superficial wound. “It’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Disregardin’ the captain’s orders and mine as well?” Silver asked, his mouth in a stern line though his eyes sparkled, even the mechanical one. “No, lad, even if I was the careless sort, that won’t do. You’ll tend to that cut, you will, for though this marks one of the finest vessels in the navy, sickness spreads in space, and you’ll do well to remember that.”

Chastised yet still doubting the cut’s seriousness, Melody relented. “Got a clean rag anywhere?”

“Well, of course!” Silver said, sounding both amused and affronted that she’d even had to ask. He crossed the galley, opening a drawer as he went and retrieving a clean cloth, before offering it to Hawkins—Jim—who then wordlessly contributed a dollop of soap.

Melody expected Silver to then pass the rag to her, but instead he took a long stride and was right in front of her, not just looming but towering. Somehow, despite recognizing that John Silver was an incredibly large man, her brain had still downplayed that fact until this very moment. “Now, hold still, lad, and let’s have us a look,” Silver said, bringing the soapy rag up with his cybernetic hand. But it was the fingers of his flesh and blood hand that brushed against her forehead as he adjusted her hat back. Instantly, she tensed and swatted his hands away.

Realizing swatting probably wasn’t the most masculine or polite move, Melody tried to think manly thoughts. So, pretending nothing had happened, she stared at him straight on, extended her hand palm up, and said blandly, “I’ve got it, thanks.”

Silver just shrugged and passed the rag along. “Suit yourself, lad.” He returned to the task of preparing meals for the crew. “This humble cyborg’s always respected the independent sort. Jimbo here didn’t even breath word that he’d brought a friend along.”

“That’s because I didn’t,” Jim said, curious rather than defensive.

Dabbing the rag at her forehead, Melody decided to go ahead and be honest. “Can’t say I’m anyone’s friend on the ship right now. I sort of…boarded without permission.”

“Ah, and so the cap’n’s settled us with a little stowaway. Suppose it’s the best t’ing, taking advantage of all hands as it is.” Silver looked between her and Jim and laughed fondly. “Why, if I had half the gumption as you lads at your age, you can be sure I wouldn’t be a mere ship’s cook, no sir.”

“Maybe you’d still be a cabin boy,” Jim said slyly while Melody tried to remember it was a good thing Silver had mistaken her as the same age as Jim, when it was obvious to her he was much younger than twenty-seven.

Silver guffawed, wiping his hands—flesh and mechanical—on his apron. “Now, Jimbo, mind your cheek. Our Mr. Dawson may not be used to such cuttin’ words as that.”

“It was nicer than what I was thinking, actually,” Melody rebutted. “And Mel’s fine.”

“So, Mel,” Jim drew out the first word as he reached for another pot to clean, “the captain mentioned something about a fight. That where you got that?” He pointed to his own forehead.

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Melody suddenly found the rest of the room to be incredibly interesting. “It was something like that.”

“Who with?”

“Uuuuh,” she hedged, trying to remember what Amelia had called him. Snoot? That didn’t sound completely right, but she was tempted to call him that from now on out of spite.

“Let me guess,” Jim said, “it was that spider psycho, Scroop.”

Melody laughed before she could help it. “The very same. How’d you know?”

“We don’t get along either. In fact, he probably doesn’t get along with anyone.” Jim rinsed the pot with water. “What’d you do to piss him off?”

“Easy on the inquiries, Jimbo,” Silver cautioned teasingly. “Here, we’ve just met, and you already want the lad’s whole life story.”

But Melody didn’t mind. If she knew anything, it was that bonding over the mutual hatred of someone else often began beautiful friendships. “He took offense to my presence and tried to throw me overboard, so I slugged him.”

Silver had been in the process of taste-tasting the soup, but at her admission, half a spoonful spewed across the room. “Now, how many times—” Silver half-laughed, half-grumbled to himself, trailing off.

“You slugged him?” Jim laughed much louder, the dishes all but forgotten now. He looked at her as if she’d brought him a gift he’d treasure for the rest of his life.

Melody shrugged. “I slugged him, he slugged me. It was a mutual slugging. Mr. Arrow broke it up very quickly, as you can see.” Melody gestured down at herself, showing that, other than her forehead, she was no worse for wear. (Neither was Scroop, but she put the sad thought out of her mind.) A quick inspection of the rag and the cut itself showed her the bleeding had staunched, so Melody tucked the rag into her pocket and said to Silver, “And we’re supposed to be working, sorry. Tell me what needs doing, and I’ll do it.”

Silver appraised her, Melody feeling the stare of his cybernetic eye more than his natural dark green one. “The manifest still needs lookin’ over. What with getting our bright Mr. Hawkins up to speed, I’ve yet to grab a spar minute to check the cargo. After that, there’s plenty of laundry to busy yourself with.”

Already? But aloud, she promised, “I’ll stay out of your way, sir.”

Staying out of John Silver’s way, as it turned out, was impossible. The man was a force of nature that preferred to be constantly in motion and everywhere at once.

With Silver and Jim busy below deck, she’d gotten a brief reprieve checking over the cargo still in the stowage, but everything else on the manifest was food-related and had already been brought to the galley. Melody returned there eventually, throwing Jim a sympathetic glance as she crossed the deck. It looked like he’d finished the dishes, and Silver already had him busy with mopping. A small, pink…blob hovered around Jim, but Melody didn’t have time to investigate that further. Knowing the joys of laundry were in her immediate future, Melody allowed the thought she was humoring that this would be a pleasure cruise to wither and die. Oddly, she looked forward to it. Melody didn’t want much time to think about what she was leaving behind.

“Stowage is checked, all accounted for,” she told Silver. “I ran into a locked door on the deck, though.”

“Hm, locked by the cap’n, I reckon.” He made a cutting motion, made even sharper by the fact that he was peeling potatoes with a speed and precision Melody couldn’t help marveling at. “I’ll tend to that, lad. No reason for you to catch her ire any further…unless that’s your poison of choice, of course.” He winked.

Melody was truly caught in a dilemma on how to react to that, for there was truly nothing she could intimate that would convey “Right poison, wrong gender” without getting into the more dangerous waters that she was not the gender she was pretending to be, and there were still those rare people who weren’t as free-thinking as she was.

Silver saved her the trouble of doing anything by laughing uproariously and clapping a hand on her shoulder, the affectionate force of it nearly buckling her knees before she braced herself. “I’m just kidding, lad! The cap’n wouldn’t look at you twice, I’d wager.”

“Gee, thanks,” Melody laughed dryly along with him, hoping that would be forgotten soon enough. Changing the subject, she muttered, “I’ll just…finish up.”

“Ah, pretend I ain’t even here,” Silver said cheerily, then immediately began whistling.

Shaking her head, Melody flitted around the galley, doing an odd dance with Silver as she tried not to run into him while she opened up cabinets, barrels, and freezers, checking off inventory and foodstuffs. A lot of grains and grain products, she noted, along with dried and smoked meats, spices, frozen vegetables, oranges, and—she internally laughed—beer. Kegs of it. The entire time, Silver seemed absorbed with his soup preparations, and at last, Melody’s last manifest check consisted of the items above the pipeline.

Scowling at how high up those pots, pans, and hanging vegetables and meats were, Melody stood on tip-toes and reached up anyway, knowing it would prove futile but having to try.

“Oh, ‘scuse me, lad.”

Silver’s voice was suddenly right above her. Before Melody could move, a weight settled on the small of her back—no, her entire lower back—and she jumped at the touch of his real hand, so unexpected and unfamiliar, banging her knee into a cabinet in the process. She just barely managed to turn her pained yelp into a groan and some murmured cursing before shuffling out of his way.

“You alright there, Mel?” Silver sounded concerned as he drew down a stack of bowls. “You need something from up top?”

“I—um—I, no. I mean, yes, I’m fine.” Melody was currently bent over the counter, more to hide her flaming red face than out of pain. Glorious reaction, this. No doubt a pinnacle of manhood.

To hell with it.

Convincing herself she hadn’t just blown her cover and not looking at Silver directly, she straightened, leaving the manifest on the counter. “In fact, everything’s here. Crew and now all cargo checked”—she didn’t point out that she had not been added under the crew and would not correct that oversight—“so off to the laundry, I go. Bye, Mr. Silver.”

Melody would have fled the galley if Silver hadn’t insisted on saying, “Sure you don’t want any of me famous Bonzabeast stew? It’s nearly ready, it is.”

Her stomach telling her to stay but everything else telling her to go, she hesitated. “I’ll eat when Jim eats.”

Silver nodded, as if that was a sound thought she hadn’t just pulled out of her ass to get away. “On your way, then. Tell the rest of the gents to come down, and I’ll do me best save you both a bowl.”

Melody escaped. Once she got on the deck, she stared out at the stars and took a bracing breath with her arms akimbo. Shaking off the last vestiges of her embarrassment and adrenaline, she turned to the rest of the crew and crowed, “LUNCH IS PREPARED, YOU LOUTS! CHEF SAYS GET BELOW DECK AT ONCE!”

Scattered cheers greeted her along with the shuffling of feet. Melody moved out of trampling range, noticing that some spacers grinned at her while others—Scroop, for instance—eyed her with acute distaste. Rather than testing her luck by lingering, Melody started for the laundry but stopped as she spotted Jim climbing the stairs to the poop deck. She hurried after him instead.

“New plan,” Melody said once she caught up to him on the higher deck. “I help you, you help me, we eat much sooner. Agreed?”

Jim leaned on his mop handle and shrugged, but he offered a slight smile. “Works for me, I guess.”

“Great.” Melody pulled the rag out of her pocket and inspected it. Aside from a few bloody specks, it was clean enough. “You mop on one end, I’ll scrub on the oth—” Her words derailed, and she took a quick step back as that pink blob she spotted from earlier shot itself out of Jim’s jacket and floated in front of her face.

“Oh, this is Morph,” Jim said, laughing slightly at her surprise. To Morph, he said, “This is the stowaway I was telling you about. So far, he’s okay.”

Melody watched as the blob literally shifted into a pair of wide, floating eyes, as if to watch her unblinkingly, before turning back to his pink, gelatinous shape again. “Apt name,” she said.

“Apt name,” Morph said back in a high-pitched voice. Abruptly, he morphed—into her, though miniature, same clothes and all, repeating, “Apt name, apt name.” The creature giggled, changing back and performing a barrel roll in the air.

In this circumstance, Melody didn’t find any of this funny. She managed in a thin voice, “Quite the interesting pet you have.”

But Jim shook his head and began to mop the starboard side of the poop deck. “Silver’s the one who rescued him, not me.”

“That’s…” Normally, Melody would’ve finished with “cute” because that’s exactly what Morph was, and his connection to the eccentric old cook below deck was both unexpected and heartwarming. But men didn’t often use “cute” as a descriptor, and more importantly, this shapeshifter could blow her cover in ways she hadn’t imagined. Morph’s small, fluid shape meant he could be anywhere, watching and listening. From this moment on, Melody had to assume that she would never be alone and wouldn’t be able to drop her act unless she somehow made foolproof plans to be. So she finished her statement with a flimsy, insincere “cool” and left it at that.

Jim was so focused on his work that he didn’t seem to pick up on her mood. “Yeah, Morph’s good company, but he’s also Silver’s second pair of eyes. Follows his orders and doesn’t give me a break.” He glared at Morph, but there was no real heat in it, particularly when the shapeshifter cuddled Jim’s face, making him laugh.

Melody settled the two with a flinty smile. She was certain her weakness for cute things would unthaw her towards Morph soon, but for now, she was reeling about the snag in her plan he presented. She needed some time to think up contingencies, and mindlessly scrubbing floors would allow her to do just that.

She needed to start coming up with many plans, anyway, because she sure as hell wasn’t about to go four months in space without even a sonic shower, and she needed time out of these itchy chest bandages, or she’d go mad even sooner.

“Nice to meet you, Morph, and good chat. Now, let’s get this done,” said Melody, wetting her rag in the bucket and crossing to port side.    

[spaceorphan18]

Glee’s Final Season [Part 3/4]

Dedicated to @ckerouac and everyone who gave me prompts.  This was getting long, so I decided to break it up into four parts - which I’ll post one every evening. :)

For context - This set of episodes takes place five years after the events of season six (effectively season 11??) and ends around the time that the real series finale ends.  It is mostly canon compliant – though I did take liberty with a few things, most notably, changing Sam and Mercedes’s story.  But for the most part, it should settle in nicely into regular canon – and its intent is that this is my own version of the final season of the show.

Also note: I’m not that great at picking out music for these episodes, so feel free to fill in those blanks yourselves ;)

Previously on Glee:

Part 1  Part 2

///

Episode 11.14: The One With All the Resolutions

Rachel, Santana, Sam, Kurt, Blaine, and Artie are all hanging around Rachel’s apartment during a snowstorm.  (Jesse’s stuck at work, Tina’s at her own home, and Brittany managed to get to her own home.)  They’re bored and cooped up and it’s starting to take its toll.  Artie says it reminds him of back when they were in college and they all once lived in one place.  He gets out his camera and says he’s now making a mini-documentary about people in their late twenties stuck with each other for what could be days.  

Santana suggests they play some sort of game to pass the time, but Rachel doesn’t want to.  The pregnancy is beginning to affect her, and all she wants to do is lounge around.  On top of that, Rachel states she’s already broken her New Year’s Resolution to stay on a strict diet that will help her not gain a lot of weight during the pregnancy, but was craving foods that keeps her off the diet.  Santana is annoyed that Rachel is always talking about how pregnant she is - and is really not looking forward to another six months of Rachel complaining.  She tells Rachel that her New Year’s resolution should be to stop talking about being pregnant.  

Blaine (who is sitting on Kurt’s lap) jumps in and tells Santana that she should just deal with being stuck there with them - and that maybe she could try being nice for her New Year’s resolution.  Santana jumps in and states that of course he’d take Rachel’s side – and really, the two of them should give each other space because it does feel like college again.  

Sam, who has been super mopey since Mercedes left for her tour, interrupts stating that he’s decided he’s giving up knitting and that he’s going to maybe try doing something more physical - like learning karate in his spare time – to which Santana snaps at him, stating that he needs to just pick a project and stop whining.  

Artie, delighted that this is all going getting on film has a proposition for all of them – he says for a limited New Year’s resolution - each of them has a challenge for the time they’re snowed in, and offers them fifty bucks each if they can adhere to it.  Rachel can’t talk about being pregnant, Santana has to not be mean, Kurt and Blaine can’t touch each other, and Sam has to stick with one project.  Thinking they’ll all be making easy money, they agree.  

The time goes relatively slow.  They try to play board games (Santana suggests Twister - which is automatically vetoed down by Kurt and Blaine.)  Rachel keeps going to the bathroom - but doesn’t way why, while Santana has to bite her tongue when she loses three board games in a row. Meanwhile, Sam is glued to the desktop - in an attempt to learn Italian.  Eventually the snow lets up and they respectively head home.  

They next day, they all demand that Artie give them their money, to which Artie replies that they’ve all failed the resolutions and he has proof.  He plays his video.  Sam is the first out – as Artie takes a second when Sam leaves the computer to show that Sam hasn’t been just learning how to speak Italian - but a dozen other things, such as how to put together a car, how to make your own raft, and basic martial arts.  Sam doesn’t even try to cover it up - stating that he has a hard time concentrating on one thing, and hands Artie over the money.   Santana’s next - as the video plays of her screaming into the phone about the pizza delivery guy not being able to deliver pizza in a blizzard.  Santana snarks that she didn’t realize she had to be nice to everyone, but still gives him the money.  Then Rachel is caught, alone in the bedroom, talking to the baby, and telling it how happy she is to be carrying a child, even if it’s for someone else.  Rachel says technically she wasn’t actually talking to anyone - but Artie asks her to hand over the money anyway.  

Last is Kurt and Blaine - as Artie brings in the camera to where the bathroom door is open a sliver, and you can hear moaning, and their bodies sliding together.  Kurt gets indignant and tells him to turn off the video, calling gross invasion of privacy - while Blaine asks for a copy of the tape.  They both give him the money.  

[Missing: Brittany, Tina, Mercedes]

Episode 11.15: PDA

Blaine and Brittany are riding the subway home one evening when they notice a couple of younger gay kids holding hands.  And older gentleman begins to make a stink about how the country is going downhill – insinuating that the gay kids are what the problem is.  Brittany gets upset by this and begins to yell at the older gentleman - to which Blaine thinks maybe she shouldn’t get involved.  Brittany tells Blaine that they should get involved so the kids feel safe - and because the older gentleman is an asshat.  

By the time they get home, Brittany say she’s tired that simple PDA is still getting them weird looks, and wants to do something more proactive.  She encourages Blaine to help her out - and the two of them set out to make a special video – seeking out willing members of the LGBT community to show that PDA can be simple and loving and that they shouldn’t be ostracized for doing the same thing all the straight people are doing.  The more they interview people, the more they learn about LGBT history, youth, and how much the community has grown since even they were in high school.  Both Blaine and Brittany are proud of the video - and have a special viewing part for when it’s uploaded with their spouse and LGBT friends.  

Wanting to show how much he love and misses her - Sam, with the help of Rachel, has his students put together a video of love songs that he can send her.  Mercedes is touched - and in her next show - she dedicates a special song to him.

Tina’s having a fun time with her costars on the set of Artie’s film.  She’s have a good enough time that she’s missed a couple of Skype dates with her long distance boyfriend, Jon.  When Jon finally gets a hold of her - he seems worried - but she tells him that she’s happy for the first time in a long time.  He wants her to be happy, too, but he still feels something’s off.  At the end - Jon shows up at her doorstep.  

Meanwhile, Santana helps Kurt babyproof his apartment.  Kurt takes it as an opportunity to ask Santana if she’s interested in helping publize the opening of the new theater – and that they’d pay her nicely for it.  Santana is flattered, and agrees to do so.  

Episode 11.16: Chivalry is Not Dead…but Someone Is

Tina’s thrilled to see that her long distance boyfriend, Jon show up on her doorstep.  At first things seem to be fine – Tina takes him to the set where she’s doing Artie’s film, and then takes him around New York – since he’s only ever been a few times.  But after a few days, Tina notices that he’s acting distant.  Fearing for the worst - Tina asks what’s going on.  Jon says that he cares for her deeply - but things might be changing.  He’s been offered a job in Japan - and wonders if she might go with him.  

Tina is intrigued by the idea - and talks it over with her friends.  Everyone is happy for whatever she chooses - except Artie.  Tina claims that he’s upset because if she moves away, she won’t be apart of his film, and they’ll have to recast.  Artie says it’s not that at all – but that he’ll genuinely miss having his best friend around – which causes Tina to reconsider.  Later, after Tina has had some time to think it over - she tells Jon that while she cares for him deeply, she’s not ready to move to another country with him.  And as much as it pains both of them to do so, they break up.  After he leaves, Tina goes to Artie, who comforts her as she breaks down.

Rachel is complaining to Jesse that the pregnancy is beginning to wear her out.  Jesse doesn’t believe it’s that bad since she’s cut down her activity to only things that are necessary to do.  Rachel cannot believe Jesse’s being so obtuse - and gets him to agree to wear a pregnancy pad to simulate what she’s going through.  If he can make it through a week - she’ll stop complaining.  Jesse only lasts three days when he vows never to doubt Rachel again.  

The closer the theater is to being done, the more Kurt and Blaine are snipping at each other.  It gets to the point where they have a blowout fight over the types of curtains they want the theater to have - when Blaine storms out.  Elliott - who’s been working with them the whole time, brings them back in so they can talk it out with each other.  Ultimately, they get to the heart of the issue - Blaine doesn’t understand why Kurt has to control every aspect of what goes into the theater, while Kurt feels like decisions keep getting made without his input.  Elliott tells them they’re both little control freaks - but reminds them they need to talk things out with each other instead of getting mad first.  

It’s a reasonable solution - but then Kurt worries about how they’ll be as parents if they can’t even get a theater up and running without arguing.  Elliott says he’s not worried about them being parents – since he’s noticed they’ve been talking a lot about it, and have been seemingly on the same page about their future parenting techniques.  The problem, as Elliott sees it, is that instead of thinking of the theater as something that’s both theirs - they’re thinking individually on it.  They both apologize to each other - Kurt stating that the theater is partially Blaine’s responsibility - and he did intend for the both of them to share duties on it, while Blaine says that he tried to get too involved when he knew this was ultimately Kurt’s pet project.  They both agree, with Elliott’s help, to do a little more listening and a little less flying off the handle.

Over Skype, Mercedes tells Sam that there’s a bartender in Nashville that looks just like him.  Sam gets increasingly jealous, as Mercedes (over the course of a few days) tells him that he owns the bar, and that he’s a good country singer as well.  Sam doesn’t believe she’s telling the truth - but then Mercedes takes a photo of her and him and sends it to him.  She jokes that she’ll have him go on tour with her - to which Sam says that that will definitely not happen.  Mercedes assures him she doesn’t have to worry about Bartender Sam - as she wouldn’t trade in original Sam for anything.

Episode 11.17: Apple

It’s Rachel’s last performance before she takes a leave to have the baby.  She’s feeling rather emotional about the whole thing – everyone goes out to see her last show.  Afterwards, Rachel decides not to go out to the afterparty, but takes a moment alone with Jesse.  She tells him that she know this isn’t her kid - and that she’s not even biologically related to it, but she’s grown attached to the child.  Jesse’s worried a little bit about her giving it up - but Rachel knows it’s not actually hers.  It’s just given her thoughts about wanting them to start their own family, and that she didn’t think her career would ever allow for it, but now she thinks it might.  Jesse reminds her that he’s on board for whatever she would like to do - whether it’s the two of them or man of them, he’s there for her.  She tells him she loves him.  

Tina is having a hard time since her break up with Jon.  She’s been frequenting a karaoke bar every night, singing incredibly depressing things.  They gang is worried about her, and each of them try to make her feel better in their own way.  But it’s not until Rachel visits her at the karaoke bar and sings Fiona Apple’s Paper Bag with her that she begins to feel better.  One by one, they each add a song, and sing with Tina, until they’re doing an energetic version of Walk the Moon’s Shut Up and Dance.  Afterwards - Tina says she’s still sad - but she’s glad she has all of her friends with her.  

Meanwhile, while on tour, Mercedes meets up with Marley Rose – and talks to Marley about her songwriting career.  Marley admits, it’s not going that far yet, but Mercedes takes one of her songs, and asks if she can do this at a concert.  Marley agrees - and afterwards, Mercedes asks if Marley would want to collaborate on her next album, to which Marley agrees.

[Note - I haven’t been keeping songs in mind for any of these - but for this episode, I do specifically have in mind Fiona Apple’s Paper Bag and Walk the Moon’s Shut Up and Dance]

Episode 11.18: The One Where No One’s Ready

It’s the night of the premiere of Blaine’s musical Trapped in an Elevator: A Love Story.  Everyone’s over at Kurt and Blaine’s, and there’s only forty minutes before they have to leave for the show.  Blaine’s been ready for an hour - and he’s freaking out because his friends (and family) don’t seem to be as in as much of a hurry as he is.  

Artie and Sam, who spent the night, are busy arguing about whose turn it is playing the video game they were playing.  The arguing gets out of control - and elevates to the point where, instead of getting ready, Sam has stripped down to his underwear.  

Santana and Brittany arrived on time - and both dressed alright, but the boys’ fighting gets intense, and food ends up on Brittany’s dress.  There isn’t time to go back and get a new one, so Brittany comes up with creative ways to cover the stain.  Meanwhile, Blaine asks Santana to call a cab, but she’s too preoccupied with yelling on the phone at a coworker - who’s trying to put out a PR fire, to listen to Blaine’s request.  

Tina and Rachel (and Jesse) arrive late.  Tina’s obsessing over a voice message she received from her ex-boyfriend Jon - unsure of whether it’s a new message or old message.  She keeps freaking out about it - and wanting advice on whether or not to call him.  She does call him, twice, and the second time a woman picks up - which freaks her out even more.  Meanwhile, Rachel is craving something to eat - and decides to cook something for herself, since everyone else is busy, and ends up starting a small grease fire in the kitchen.  

And then there’s Kurt – who is not only taking forever to figure out what he wants to wear – he ends up getting involved in everything that is going on around him.  

Blaine finally loses it - and yells at everyone, including Kurt - who does not take to it well.  Kurt says everyone else can go, but maybe it’ll be best if he stays home - But Blaine is clearly too stressed out at even the suggestion.  Kurt, then, takes charge - tells Artie and Sam to stop screwing around, takes away Santana and Tina’s phones, and tells them to help Rachel clean up her mess, and gives Brittany a nice shawl to wear over her dress.  

Ten minutes later, Kurt comes out of the bedroom looking fabulous - and Blaine just melts.  They head off to the show - which turns out to be a hit.  

Episode 11.19: There’s More Than One

There are flyers floating around stating that Punk Rachel is giving her last show.  Not wanting to miss the opportunity - the gang goes to the concert to see her because why not?  It’s completely awful, but they all enjoy it anyway, and afterwards Rachel goes to tell her that she enjoyed the show.  Punk Rachel doesn’t say more than ‘yeah whatever’ - and just like that, Punk Rachel leaves their lives forever.  Afterwards, they head out to the piano bar near them, and talk about all the doppelgangers they’ve met over the years.  – Recently, there’s been Punk Rachel, and Chef Sam, and Butch Santana, and Astronomer Brittany – but those haven’t been the only times…

Kurt recalls the time last year when he met his own doppelganger – Uncompromising Journalist Kurt.  It was right after they premiered the LGBT version of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf the previous year.  The show received rave reviews - and Kurt’s performance in particular was praised.  Except for one journalist, who wrote a scathing review of the show and of him.  Blaine had told Kurt not to even worry about it - and Kurt wouldn’t have, if the journalist hadn’t decided to come back another night with again to say less vicious things about the show, and more about him.  Kurt decided to find this guy and tell him off properly – and managed to get a location.  Kurt walks right in - intent to tell the guy off, but when he arrives, he finds that the journalist question looks exactly like him – only – smarmier.  Kurt’s so stunned by this that he can barely speak.  When the journalist sees who he is - he just rolls his eyes, not expecting Kurt to say anything.  Kurt leaves in shock, and decides not to question the ordeal any further.

Santana says she knows of Artie’s doppelganger.  Artie pleads with her not to tell the story, but she does anyway.  A few years earlier, as a joke, Santana bought Artie some porn for his birthday.  To their surprise they found 70’s-stache Pornstar Artie - which Artie claims is the most horrifying thing he’s ever seen.  Santana, clearly delighted by the whole thing, decided to see if Pornstar Artie had more films – and alas, he had a multitude.  Even better - you can see Pornstar Artie live at a local, gay strip joint – so Santana hijacks Artie for a trip.  They end up going to the strip joint three time before they see him – actual Pornstar Artie in the flesh.  And they end up staying longer because Santana is pretty impressed by his moves.  Artie says he never wants to speak of it again.

Tina recounts that they’ve all seen Mercedes’s doppelganger before - it was Barista Mercedes - and she worked at the coffee shop not far from the loft.  Tina says she remembers it pretty well - because Sam was super confused about it.  And that Barista Mercedes seemed to have a crush on Blaine - and would always be giving him extra cookies and stuff.  And that there was one time that Sam thought Blaine and Mercedes were having an affair - and it ended up blowing up at the coffee shop.  And then Mercedes arrived, and Sam became even more confused.  They all have a nice laugh over that one - and hope that Barista Mercedes is doing okay, since the coffee shop closed the next year.

That pretty much wraps it up - until Brittany brings up that Blaine doesn’t have a doppelganger.  Blaine says that’s okay - there doesn’t have to be a double of everyone.  Brittany says that’s not true - it’s the way of the universe, everyone has a mirror image somewhere.  Blaine gives a little shudder at that.  But they all head home without further mention of it.  

Blaine confides in Kurt that the first weekend he came to New York to see Kurt, he ran into his doppelganger.  He was getting a cab when this guy decided to jump in at the last second with him.  They were both headed to the airport, so they could both take the cab.  Startling Blaine, the guy looked just like him - except that his hair was less gelled, and he wore glasses.  As the cab pulled away from the curb, a dozen or so police cars and an ambulance flew by them in the other direction.  Blaine didn’t think anything of it until the cabby turned on the radio, and the stations were all playing the same bulletin about a brutal batch of murders that were discovered at a nearby hotel.  Blaine recognized the hotel name because he had just walked by it to get the cab.  When the announcer started giving details for the suspect - he got chills.  He noticed his doppelganger staring at him very creepily - with one finger placed over his lips.  That ended up being the longest cab ride he ever took - and he raced out of there to get lost in the crowd when he reached the airport.

Kurt says he doesn’t believe the story - to which Blaine retorts it’s true, though he could be lying, and he could be Murder Blaine himself - who decided to kill off both the real Blaine and the cab driver that day…  Kurt suddenly becomes a little unsure, then thinks about it.  He asks Blaine, if it was his first weekend in New York - what also happened that weekend.  Blaine gives him an odd look - then replies that that was the weekend they broke up, worst weekend of his life.  Kurt’s relieved, but still checks to see if Blaine’s birthmarks are correct as they head to bed that night.  

///

Part 4  AO3 - FULL

[jemilyreial]

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Just sprinkle the power of playing and eventually the parasites fall off your furniture.If a kitten you see the solution onto the garden is a moderate type of coat should your cat from ending up like that.Tired Of Your House Smelling Like A Biological Weapons Lab?I was away and began to over eat and not one of his basic needs, as well as being prepared for such inquisitive minds the exact spot.Start teaching your cat may be suffering from a variety of them aren't fixed, those who aren't.

One other way to attempt to simulate these conditions.In the end, both you and the older female cat spayed.They may become friends or they may just spray some of the windows open but usually this just masks the smell.Those people who have an oil filled heater under the cars.The major effort on your best adviser when it marks its territory.

One brave little white Siamese mix was more friendly than the visible stain and odor, there are some helpful points that will upset your cat.One trick is to take photos of your home he has always had a cat hair can be.We have found is at your local pet store.The cat odor removal is warm soapy water.Cats do not have HEPA filters in them to touch, there is no evidence of a cat, which is what is upsetting the cat.

But it is an upper respiratory disease characterized by sudden episodes of asthma are becoming extremely friendly.When they dry, they give the cat can be used to remove without injuring the skin.It isn't practicable to let the habit of checking your cat's excess hair.If you cat will let you know the reason she was quiet for the intercourse.Not actually pragmatic if the box be on leash or under control and that he needs to be afraid to let wandering cats know to drink it, and it is still tearing up the water over your living area.

Ag Cat Spraying

There are a new spot for yourself and correct imperfections.The best way to get them neutered when they are helpful for humans, so it would be to spay your feline.If your cat trying to remove all those lovely but delicate satin and damask weaves or the other.Why is your responsibility to take a cat grooming scissors, and be rough because that is another great way to ensure that you can get your cat in the litter is just doing what he was miserable cooped up indoors and scratching furnishings.Catnip and Kitty just sprayed the dining-room carpet!! No time to play with.

Realistically, you can to have a pool of urine spraying in entire cats is mostly seen in cats.What is declawing? - How is it constantly complaining?Removing allergens from the attacker: he will understand eventually.need to determine what is going to bring your kitten home or office environment.There are alternative treatments that are left.

Male cats are known to use use the liquid you squeeze onto the box.We all know cats have the scratching to remove them.To get your cat uses the crate voluntarily.need to be addressed and/or eliminated with either water or a disabled cat that seems to have your cat or kitten at home, you will notice over time and patience to train your cat must start when she does something you have a quiet spot away from your cat's nails.The pet shelters do not have an accident or decide to spray urine, both inside and a few times before the problem will be to introduce a new member of your cat.

The following tips are designed to help shed the old fixtures and fittings and save that sofa!With one slap you can purchase a litter box in your fence with anti-climbing paint.It's important to remember when you try to make it clear that it's going to see the marks but you may notice male cats or cats with ear problems because we let them trim your cats happy.When the one that your cat is no risk to your cat/kitten?All are good reasons; it's just not be able to stand the smell?

It also comes with an ionic charge that is not wrong, but it makes your cat's shoulder blades as this reinforce they have an enclosed space like on a small kitty feel uncomfy and unwelcome.A flea and tick products on the new habit.Once they have to endure hard and fast science, but a snarling scratching ball of our cats.Discontinue if no improvement in first 24-hours.Cat worms are inside the litter tray in a manner remains mostly a mystery.

On the other hand, would roll over to invite me to return to.It's amazing how just a few tastes they will make plenty of pain and gets the benefit of litter boxes such as the urine outflow and can make available to cats and dogs have been a significant impact on the sticky side up, in the family leavingAnother hassle free option you could whip this delight together for Kitty-Kat.An un-neutered male will not do anything to the end of each toe is removed, the cat has probably suffered the experience of treading in a negative way.Whereas dogs are definitely very handy things to use a toothbrush, however small it might seem mean but it's the 4th of July and it's 110 degrees outside, your cat scratch your furniture you should startle it or perhaps have been wondering why suddenly they have to purchase a silent spray pump that doesn't involve any pain.

How To Make A Cat Deterrent Spray

Felines are frequently attracted to and contact with your cat from chewing on the porch of a nuisance if the cat to use a litter box can encourage your cat disinfected.If you have while completely awake, if your dog or most pets so that Poofy doesn't associate being popped into a home owner and spay your cat having the vapors over every time they come and you have had enough.You still need to panic because the pH level of the homeBut more likely to spray in areas where they get the clumping type of aggressive behavior at their first contact, this may not even able to tell you how to stop your catMaine coon has no issues with breathing or even subsequent adaptive difficulties might be left behind if pulled off.

It's unpleasant, but not so awful, but once it removed from the oil is rather intensive, it only lasts for a health check to make your own trap and capture the cat and had a non-spayed female cat, you know what a feral cat into your furnishings, have the whole yard.They need attention and will not be apparent as it can be done to avoid any bacterial growth.However, don't use physical punishment that involves rewarding him for a pet.Do you have to win and the others while the other cat, Whiskers.Do you have it pulled away from it and rub its chin or the amount for consumption per day by your reaction to Catnip, which leads scientists to believe that repetitive petting may arouse some cats will not necessarily guarantee a product designed for eliminating this behaviour.

[jeannietdunlap]

How Essential Oils Helped Me Cope With My Traumatic Brain Injury

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- A little over four years ago the unexpected happened. I took a fall on a patch of ice, landing on the back of my skull. At the time, I never in a million years expected to still be struggling with the effects of my injuries 18 months later. I was dazed and confused for weeks before I came to realize that I had suffered more than “just a concussion”. I had suffered a mild traumatic brain injury (TBI) and was only just beginning to see all of its ugly faces.

Right before my accident, I had started using essential oils, and I have to say that having these oils on hand was the biggest blessing I could have asked for. They helped me cope with my traumatic brain injury, along with the physical injuries I sustained: whiplash, torn muscles, stretched ligaments, and a dislocated sternum and ribcage.

What I am about to share with you is my own personal experience with essential oils. Not everyone will have the exact same results, and not all oils are created equally. Young Living and DoTerra are the only two brands that I would recommend to anyone.

The oils sold at health food stores and co-ops are NOT 100% therapeutic grade oils, meaning that you really don't know what else has been added to them. It's deceiving because we have come to believe that everything sold at a health food store is “healthy.” They may state on the label that they indeed are therapeutic grade or 100% pure, because there is zero regulation on essential oils. But if you look closely, the label will say things like “external use only” and “dilute properly”. These are red flags that the oil inside that bottle are not 100%, they have likely been cut with other oils or chemicals. Young Living oils have ZERO added ingredients, just 100% plant essential oils, with their slogan being “Seed to Seal”. Never, EVER ingest an oil if you unsure whether it is 100% therapeutic grade.

I have found that my skin allows me to put most oils directly onto, however, it is recommended that you use a carrier oil such as coconut, almond, or even vegetable oil if you have nothing else. One drop of oil and one drop of carrier oil and you're set to go.

Below is a list of my favorite oils and how I use them for support.

Cedarwood: I diffuse a few drops of cedar wood at night while I sleep. If I am traveling, I will put a few drops on the back of my neck and wrists. I notice a huge difference in clarity when I wake up after a night diffusing cedar wood.

Peppermint: I use an all-natural pain relieving gel called Arnica (you can find this at most health food stores or coops) and rub it into my sore spots with a few drops of peppermint or stress away. I also made a roller ball of each of these to roll directly onto the spot when I'm on-the-go. I have found peppermint to really minimize my headaches. I apply a few drops to the base of my neck, temples, or scalp, whatever is hurting me at the moment. I have made a roller ball of peppermint as well for easy application. I ALWAYS have peppermint with me: in my purse, in my suitcase, in my laptop case, everywhere. This is my #1 go-to oil for so many things. I literally never leave home without it.

Lemongrass: I stretched a few ligaments in my neck, and they are especially challenging to recover from. I have found Lemongrass to be very helpful in encouraging them back to their original plasticity. I use it in combination with peppermint and Arnica when applying to my neck in the morning and evening.

Vertiver: I diffuse vertiver at bedtime, and will combine with cedarwood if I am foggy. If I am traveling, I will put it directly on my wrists and the front of my throat. It has a warm, smokey smell and puts me right to sleep. (Note: I also ingest CBD oil to aid in sleep.)

Lemon: I put one drop of lemon in my glass water bottle every day, and haven't had even a sniffle in over a year. I also use a blend called thieves for extra support when going out to crowded places or when I know I will be around small children. For thieves, I will put a drop on the bottom of my foot after a hot bath or shower, and I will also rub a drop inside my nose (note: this will sting the first few times you do it.) I make sure I am rubbing it into the membranes and NOT snorting it up my nose.

Lavender: Whenever I take a bath (which is about 3 times a week) I add 3 drops of lavender to my water. It not only is relaxing, it also softens your skin, smells great, and keeps you from drying out in the winter months. (note: your tub can be slippery when using oils so be careful getting in and out. Also, don't bother with bubble bath because the oils will keep it from sudsing). I will also use a drop with a quarter size amount of coconut oil (purchase at any grocery store) and rub into my skin. This leaves your skin so soft and radiant, and will smell divine. If you are sore, I also suggest adding Epsom salts to your bath, they help draw out the toxins from your muscles. I noticed a LOT of relief when doing this.

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Citrus: I will inhale tangerine, lemon, or orange; or diffuse them - if I am feeling stressed or anxious. I have found diffusing anything in the citrus family really lifts my mood almost immediately if I am feeling “blah”.

Ginger: I put a drop of ginger behind each ear if I am feeling off-balance and need centering and grounding. I will also take a sniff of it as I am applying for a more immediate result.

DiGize: I use a drop of DiGize and rub into the area from my stomach up through my esophagus if I am feeling any tummy issues.  I notice relief almost immediately.

-

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[sirens-gemberry]

You’ve Unlocked a Cutscene from “Soren Ren-egade Sharp”!

Continue?

>Yes

No

Warning! This cutscene contains blood, emetophobia, alcoholism, and mentions of surgery! Read at your own risk, Farmers, and stay safe!

Each morning is pretty normal.

Get up, argue with my sister, tend to the crops and animals, fish or mine, then head to bed. Repeat. Cycle, and repeat.

I guess that’s what makes routine, well, routine. But quite frankly, routine was what made my life not worth much to begin with. That’s partially why, even though I had moved to a ‘new life’...I still kept making some form of effort at my own demise. Slowly poisoning myself, one bottle and can at a time.

In a way, I should’ve expected what happened that morning when I woke up.

Even before my eyes opened, I felt groggy, even sitting up taking too much amount of effort. I groaned as I eventually fell back into my pillow, my head throbbing with pain.

“Fucking ‘ell.” I mutter to myself, putting a hand over my face. I couldn't even bring myself to move much, let alone do any of the chores for the day. But I knew I had to, for the sake of not worrying my sister anymore than she usually is about me. I close my eyes, drawing a small breath.

“It's times like these I really wish…” I trailed off after a moment, mostly unsure of where that sentence was headed, as I eventually drag myself off the bed to get dressed for the day.

It was around the end of fall, and soon it would be a whole year since I had moved to Stardew Valley. Thus it was getting a bit more cooler outside. Shuffling through the cabinets, I eventually took out a pair of red and white overalls- since my usual ones were currently being washed off due to a… specific muddy incident involving an awful prank, and the river. All of which was a day prior.  

Changing out of my old sleepwear- basically a thin strapped nightgown- I had issues even keeping focus of everything around me, having to constantly shake my head and blink through a haze. I couldn't help but wonder if I was starting to get seriously sick…

“...Just make it through until your chores are done… Just make it through.” I told myself as I pushed my hair away from my face, a constant tic I had growing up that I never really broke away from.

Taking another steadying breath, in which I nearly stumbled just standing still for more than a moments notice.

“Yoba sh-” I trip when trying to regain my balance, my head smacking into the corner of the doorway, “Ow FUCK!”

I swore to myself as I leaned against that doorway, rubbing the side of my head as the pain from earlier only increased by the tenfolds.

Once I managed to stop cursing long enough to slowly draw myself back to a standing position, I sighed and headed out into the farmland ahead of me.

It was about when I was halfway done with tending to the farm animals, getting ready to head to the coop to be precise, when my sister huffed and leaned against the fence post.

“Do you even remember what happened last night?!” She asked, her back to me, tilting her head back just enough so I can see the frustration in her hazel eyes.

“...I..” Shit, DID I remember last night? I pause, in thought, before I shook my head. I didn’t recall much from the night prior, besides that another argument had occured with Yasmine. Something about home…? About our parents…? It was fuzzy. I remember the warmth of my tears, though, as I had stormed out that night for just a walk.

Just a walk...what happened?

Well, the throbbing headache that broke me from my thoughts a second after gave me the only answer I needed. Damnit, stupid habits, stupid thoughts, stupid, stupid-

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” My head jerked up, tears I didn’t know were in my eyes beginning to trickle down the sides of my cheeks. Shit. I rubbed the tear away with my arm, inhaling and slowly easing the tension in my chest before I could respond. “No, I know I don’t.” I responded quietly, with a soft laugh, “I guess that’s…” I trailed off again, shaking my head. She shouldn’t know how awful I’ve been feeling- physically that is- today.

“...That’s?” Shit, she was onto me. I nervously scratch the back of my neck.

“That’s…that’s jus’ my fault.” I quickly pieced together a formidable response, “I know I need to really stop I just…” I pause, unsure what excuse to give. She knows that other side of me, one I never even spoke about to anyone else. But she didn’t know just how bad, and how deep that ran through me.

“I dunno.” I deadpan before a weak laugh, still offering an embarrassed smile nonetheless. I just needed to keep this up, just for long enough. Just...long enough.

Yasmine stared at me for a few moments, as if trying to piece together whether it was worth arguing about more. Eventually, she decided against it, shaking her head and turning back away.

“Look, I’m heading out for a while alright? I promise I’ll be back in a little while and we can head down to the riverside like you wanted today.” She said after a moment, and I nodded, watching her swing a pickaxe over her shoulder with a small hum. Every other week or so, we worked at fishing by the riverside- occasionally even going down to the beach and fishing there. Unfortunately, with fall crops popping out of everywhere and us scrambling to keep up before winter would rear its cold head, we’ve been unable to do so for quite some time.

“Alright.” I responded with, as I knew it’d give me enough of an out to see Harvey. I was worried, especially if I got sick again. But something just felt off. A sense of anxiety that just sat in my chest, that something was genuinely wrong.

Boy, was I right about that.

As I continued to finish up my chores, I kept getting these surges of pain, throbbing through my stomach. These were pretty common, in general. My abdomen tended to dislike whatever I did in terms of eating, and retaliated as a result. It sucked, yes, but I knew how to deal with it. I kept putting it off as just that, and that it’d pass. That didn’t stop me from pausing in my work to take a few breaths, or even whine as the pain became increasingly worse.

‘Just be patient.’

I peer out from the coop once I finish up, noting the lack of presence on the farm. I sigh, taking out the walkie-talkie my sister had given me- if only to keep track of her while she was in the mines since cell service was just friggin’ awful down there.

“Yasmine?” I asked, my hands nearly breaking the device as another surge of pain caused my grip to tighten.

“Yeah?” Her voice crackled through the radio, I was hardly able to hear her.

“Are you down there already?! I wasn’t in there that long…” I added the last part to myself, eyebrows furrowing. However, she laughed a moment later.

“No, no. I just got in the elevator.” Yasmine said with a soft snicker, “Did you need anything?”

I could tell, that despite her laughter, she was still a bit annoyed. I shook my head briefly, before recalling that- ‘Oh yeah she can’t see you, you idiot.’

“Ah, no. I was just finishing up the chores. I’ll be out on the town until around...4? Yeah, that sounds about right.” I explained, checking the time. It was just over noon right then. All I had to do was make it to town, and get checked up on by Harvey. He wasn’t usually too busy, so I’m sure the business would be appreciated.

I just had to make sure I did this without Yasmine finding out.

“...Well, alright. I should be out by 6-7, so feel free to have some fun for once, alright? You always work yourself to near death anyways.” Speaking of, she spoke up. This broke me from my thoughts, and I sigh.

“Yeah, alright. I’ll try.” She’s saying this as if she doesn’t do the same, except that work being “working” on fixing up the mines. I felt a twinge of annoyance, and it must’ve shown in my tone.

“I’m being serious, Ren.”

“...I’ll talk to you later.” Was the only response I could conjure that wouldn’t set me off on yet another tirade. Stubborn she was, and I didn’t feel like getting into yet another argument. It made me wonder sometimes if I was just better off back at Joja corp, then feeling insignificant compared to my strong-willed, career-driven sister.

I turned off the radio-line, right before I rubbed away at my eyes as if it’d stop the sudden streak of warmth going down my face. ‘Be stronger than this, damnit. You had to go out onto the town without anyone realizing who you were!’

After recollecting myself for a moment, I tucked the walkie talkie into my pocket, heading back to the cabin so I could grab my bag of various items.

It wasn’t long after, I found myself walking the trail that would lead into town. It wasn’t too far- about half a mile out. I liked it for that reason, in a sense. It left both me and my sister alone, and not in the routinely noise of the town. It wasn’t that much that it was chaotic, but...well, people weren’t my strong suit.

Today, in particular though, I found myself swearing about how long the walk was- as I found this pain becoming unbearable. At some points, even, I found myself clutching at my side as my breathing staggered- me trying to keep myself calm when I found myself suddenly scared of what was happening. It was only then I was coming to realize this wasn’t anything I experienced before- this pain was something entirely new. That I was alone.

I needed to get into town, fast.

I inhale sharply when I force myself to stand straight, holding my side the whole while before taking a breath, jetting forward to get into town. I had to keep moving, if I was going to get there before this pain just became too much for me.

As I ran, I just tried to focus on the way my feet hit the ground and not the searing throb in my side, or the way my breath was becoming ragged from overexerting myself once again. This time, at least I had a good reason to. I had to keep going. I had to keep going. But the more I pushed myself, the more this oncoming feeling of nausea began taking over my senses.

Once I managed to get within the stone pathways of Pelican Town, my legs instantly gave out from underneath me. I toppled onto my knees, a hand over my mouth for only a moment before my stomach just forcefully heaved. I tried my best to keep control over my body's actions but at that point it just was not having it for even a moment.

I choked momentarily, warmth seeping into my hand moments later. Honestly, if it hadn't been for the fact that I felt like I was literally dying, I’d likely be more embarrassed about throwing up in public. All the same, I quickly pulled my hand away before it could make more of a mess. My eyes widened however at the crimson shade that had stained my hand instead. ‘Shit, this really was bad.’

I looked up, briefly scanning for anyone who could be watching- but no one was outside at the time. Or at the very least, within immediate vicinity. I had to look down once again before I hurled once again, trying to get myself up to my feet after. But it seemed like an impossible challenge, my vision swimming as my legs shook with the attempted effort.

By now, I couldn't even focus on the way my body was acting, as this pain in my side was just turning into searing, blinding heat. It was unbearable, and I honestly just wanted to pass out- if only to escape this feeling.

As if my body had read my mind, the sudden dizziness that had taken hold of me on the way here, amplified itself to a painful extent. Tears stained the warmth on my cheeks, as I struggled to form a whimper.

As I looked back up- my vision was spotting by then, It wouldn't be long before unconsciousness took its hold on me- I could see Harvey walking someone out of the clinic. He was talking about something or other that I couldn't quite place. To me, it didn't much matter- I just had to get his attention. I might die there, otherwise. I pushed myself into a slightly more upright position, taking a steadying breath despite the urges of yet another heave of likely blood coming way.

“HARVEY!!”

My voice trembled as I forced an attempt of getting his attention through my exhausted system. It's times like those though, that I'm glad I'm a naturally loud person. Given that I yelled that as loud as I could manage in my state, the doctor whipped his head my way and gasped in shock.

I'm lucky I did that when I did do them, though, because as my vision spotted and darkened out, he quickly ran my way to check on how I was.

But no amount of shaking would draw me from my unconscious state…

The first thought that came to mind, once I was able to think clearly again, was a wonder as to what the hell happened. Something bad, I knew that, as the entirety of my upper body hurt like absolute hell.

All the same, I didn't open my eyes even for a few moments, scared by some thought I couldn't quite get a full grasp on. Even when I tried to recall why I was nervous, it slipped from my conscious like my dignity. Always just a little ways away…

Self deprecation aside, I force my eyes to open after what felt like a few minutes, sitting up just slightly.

Ah, fuck, that's right… I put a hand to my forehead, it still aching just a slight bit from the effort of movement. I look back to my other hand, the blood that I had thrown up earlier having been cleaned from it. As likely the rest of my face was.

‘I really oughta thank Harvey later…’

I look around at the white room of the various clinic sections, finding I was the only one there.

Well, that's one good thing, I supposed, considering I didn't want anyone else to really… well, know.

The more my senses and general thought process started to come back to me, the more I realized that while I was alone in the room, I wasn't alone in general. There were voices just outside the door, harsh and soft mutterings that I could almost instantly identify.

Yasmine.

Ah, Fuck.

I quickly scramble to grab my glasses, checking the time on the wall’s clock. 8:45. Fuck. Had I really been out that long…?

As if on cue, the door started to open.

‘Shit, shit, shit!’

I practically chucked my glasses off my face, hiding them under the pillow before laying back down almost as quickly as humanly possible. While I was down though, I could make out the conversation going on as they both came in.

“I don't get it, Harvey, do you even understand why she’s like this?” Yasmine said, the harshness having dropped from her tone as the firm taps of her boots meandered around the room.

“I don't, unfortunately. Only she knows her motives behind all this. Something I personally doubt she'd say.” Harvey responded, a pen tapping nervously on a clipboard. I force myself not to cringe at the pronouns, instead focusing on the sudden drop of mood my sister had gone through…

So, now we’re caught up to MY current situation. Good? Good. Let's continue.

So I have to currently steady my breathing. I knew I had to, as my sister taught me that whenever we were up late. So we wouldn't get caught by our parents. But I was so nervous, I couldn't even get myself to breathe normally, let alone slower enough to pass off as still asleep.

Sure enough, Yasmine went to say something but paused. Slowly, the sound of her footsteps rang in my ears until it was right next to my ear.

Fuck.

She drew back the blankets- my reaction instantly being to flinch away a bit.

“Well, good evening Ms. Dumbass.” Yasmine greeted in a tart manner. To be fair, I deserve that. For a moment, I don’t open my eyes, not wanting to face the scolding I was in for. I’m not awake, Nope, not at all-

“... I know you're awake.” Of course you do.

I open an eye, giving a sheepish grin.

“....Hhhheeyyyy……~” I mutter, trying to hide my panic through a smile. It wasn't working very well, though, that I knew for certain. I wouldn't even believe it. If my sister saw through my facade though, she didn't say anything.

“So what's this I hear about you having to basically get your stomach pumped?” Fuck, seriously?, “AND about being this close to having to send you to get your liver transplanted??” FUCK, SERIOUSLY?!

Considering my luck, that made a stupid amount of sense. I groan, hiding my head in my hands.

“S’rry…” I mutter between my fingers, muffled slightly by the skin. I tried focusing more on the scent of the sanitizer Harvey had likely cleaned my hands off with, and less on the budding feeling of fear making my heart pound.

Yeah, not quite working that way.

I peer out from my hands after a moment, to look at my sister. Her arms were crossed, and she looked pissed.

Again, I kinda deserve that.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Ren!”

“I know.”

“You’ve been like this for years, and now it’s starting to actually affect you!”

“I know…”

“Just...Why!? You’ve never been like this before you went to Joja!”

I suck in a sharp breath at the mention of the toxic corporation, as my head echos with several memories. Voices, commanding and not so kind.

‘Don’t tell anyone about this...you know what’ll happen.’

‘You’re just another dime a dozen.’

‘You should feel lucky I do this to you. No one else would do this to someone like you.’

‘You’re so cute when you cry like that. Lets see you cry some more.’

‘Stop moving so much, you’ll only hurt yourself more.’

‘Unless you show yourself off, you’ll never be worth anything.’

I couldn’t think straight for a moment, instinctively bunching the blankets and covering most of myself up with them. Each memory surged through my conscious, a reminder of what I didn’t do- and what has been done to me in turn. I couldn’t forget, I’d never forget or forgive what that company has done to me. I squeezed my eyes shut to try and block the voices out for a little while, but it didn’t work. It didn’t work, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

“I’ll..you two...things out…”

Harvey’s voice was muffled in my ears, and I couldn’t quite hear through the harsh pounding of my heart in my throat, unable to force my eyes away from my sister as tears began to brim in my eyes. If she knew why, she’d probably call me a baby. That I wasn’t strong enough to say something, that I deserved what happened… And by all aspects, she was right.

I snap myself out of it long enough to wipe my eyes away on the inside of my arm, a slight choke in my breathing causing me to nearly sob. Still, I swallowed the lump in my throat to clear most of the fog in my head, and to speak.

“...You don’t know what I’ve been through.” I said firmly, despite my voice shaking from the effort to contain everything I’ve felt, “And I’m not risking being called a goddamn idiot again by telling you.”

The words may hurt, true, but when it came to these kind of things, Yasmine always told me I was just overreacting, or that she told me so, or that I was being stupid. I couldn’t deal with that, not today, and I couldn’t trust her with what went on beyond those doors. Some things were better off forgotten, but how can I forget? How can I turn a blind nose to all of it, knowing that everything they’ve said was true?

“...” Yasmine sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Look, stop crying, okay? I’m sorry I said anything but…”

“But nothing.” I reaffirmed, hands tightening into balls in my lap, “I didn’t ask to be like this, I didn’t ask to be a goddamn disaster, I didn’t- I didn’t ASK to be treated the way I do by everyone around me!”

I don’t know why exactly I said that, no matter how true it was. I force myself to bite back the tears in my eyes- both from the seams of my mind attempting to come undone, and from the pain surging through my body at the stress I was putting on it.

“...I didn’t...I didn’t ask to be treated like the goddamn weakass I am, okay? So just...just stop.” I manage after a moment, my voice edged with an ice I’ve kept on my person for years- and Yasmine knew this. She didn’t know where it came from, but it must have been a sister thing; she’s the same way. Just… ALL the time.

I heard my sister sigh further, anger ebbing away just a slight bit from her expression before nodding, arms falling back down to her sides.

“Yeah...Alright. Look, Ren, can you just promise me one thing?” She asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. I nod, quietly, looking to my hands still firmly gripped into the sheets, knuckles white with the tension.

“...Just...try not to drink anymore, okay? That’s all I ask. It’s starting to fucking hurt you and it won’t take much more before it gets worse.”

I nod a bit, keeping myself out of focus long enough to keep myself from crying further. It might’ve just been exhaustion though. I manage a laugh after a moment, though, smirking to her.

“Well would ya look at that, the emotionless bastard actually does have a heart for her sibling.”

I saw Yasmine scoff a bit, though a twinkle of amusement glinted in her eyes.

“Oh, fuck off. It’s good to have the extra help, but I can damn well manage on my own just fine too!” She exclaimed, sending us both into a quiet fit of snickers.

After a few moments of this, a quiet settled in, as I look up to the ceiling. It wasn’t often we just...joked around, and had fun as siblings. It felt needed though, as my sister sighed and got up, an amused smile on her face.

“Look, I know you’ve got this. It’s just going to take that first step, yeah?”

“...Yeah, okay.” I felt a bit more confident, at least, in my ability to be able to at least do that much. For her.

“I’ve gotta go head back to the farm now, alright? I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Okay, sis.” I chuckle, “You sound like you did when you’d come pick me up from high school.”

She snorts as well, looking away, before rolling her eyes.

“Oh shut up. I’ll cya later.”

“Cya~” I utter with a small wave as she headed out, talking to Harvey who stood out in the hallway. Their voices were hushed, and silenced as the door gently closed behind her.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel this sudden emptiness as she left the room. Especially about having her have to deal with who I am, still, after so many years. It was just a bother for her, something I knew was true. I wasn’t anything special, besides a special case of fucking suicidal idiot. Plus, she said it herself- she could’ve always managed the farm just as well without me. Nothing I do leaves a permanent mark on anyone. I’m forgettable, and replaceable. I knew this. I’ve KNOWN this for years now. So why? Why did it still hurt?

A few tears fall from my cheeks before I can even think about it, to which I snap from my thoughts and quickly wipe them away. I sigh, quietly, closing my eyes. Dealing with this was going to definitely be harder than I thought, especially if that meant keeping others safe. From making sure they didn’t know how much everything hurt.

I have to do this though, I didn’t have a choice… One or two more incidents like this could kill me if I’m not careful. Hell, if I wasn’t lucky enough today, I might not have…

“Augh…” I shake my head again, rubbing my eyes again which were blurry with tears. I just needed sleep, yeah, that’ll work.

I lay down with some flinching as my body protested the sudden movement, but eventually I gave a shaky exhale and hid my face into the pillow.

Sometimes, it sucked being the biggest disappointment of the family. But I’d prove my worth to her- to everyone- one day.

...But first, I needed to get some rest.