#now i have to clear out some of saturns space and sit on the floor with a burger king crown on my head

[dailypokemoncrochet]

How did I take 2 hours to take pictures of not even all of January's pokemon and I still have 4 more to go

[heartofether]

Episode 15 - Elderberries TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[LOWER-PITCHED AND SLOWER THAN NORMAL] Please state your message.

[THEME SONG PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME SONG FADES TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. THE POPPY GARDEN MOTEL, AGENT MAY AND JUNES’ ROOM, EARLY MORNING.]

AGENT JUNE

Oh, is it on? I dunno how this recording device works. Would have been, like, ten times easier to just record on our phones, but, eh.

Anyways, it’s just me right now, which means I get to do all the talking. Guess I should, I dunno, talk about the mission? Daughtler?

Oh! I know. There’s this candy store downtown that displays massive gummy bears in the window, only it’s so hot outside that the bears have started melting. It’s some mix of disturbing, but also hilarious? Seriously, those bears look so sad, I can’t help but laugh.

Let’s see. Say, what’s that stupid thing he always says? [DRAMATICALLY MOCKING AGENT MAY] This is Operation Saturn, phase 1.2. Conducted by Agents May and June. All recordings are property of the—

[AS AGENT JUNE TALKS, THE DOOR IS HEARD OPENING AND CLOSING. THERE ARE FOOTSTEPS AS AGENT MAY WALKS IN.]

AGENT MAY

Here’s your coffee.

AGENT JUNE

Much obliged! Oh, you got it with oat milk, right?

AGENT MAY

[SLIGHTLY BITTER] It cost extra, but yes.

AGENT JUNE

Aw, hell yeah.

[AGENT JUNE TAKES HIS DRINK.]

AGENT MAY

I’ve never understood the excitement behind alternative milks.

AGENT JUNE

Hey, I’m lactose intolerant. Not that that would stop me from consuming dairy in most scenarios, but oat milk hits, alright? You should give it a shot.

AGENT MAY

I don’t put milk in my coffee, just sugar.

AGENT JUNE

Mm. Gross.

AGENT MAY

[HE HUFFS A SIGH.] Well, I’ll stop judging your coffee order if you stop judging mine.

AGENT JUNE

I’ll agree to that, sure.

[HE TAKES A SIP, THEN] See anything of note in the coffeeshop?

AGENT MAY

[UNCOMFORTABLY] Maybe. There was this girl sitting at a table. She was wearing all-black, which is strange considering the weather.

AGENT JUNE

Uh, ever heard of fashion? Dude, you literally wear a suit every day! No wonder you overheat. I mean, why do you think I skip the blazer?

AGENT MAY

[IRRITATED] At least I wear my tie correctly.

AGENT JUNE

I leave it undone on purpose, alright? It’s a statement.

AGENT MAY

Do you know how to tie a tie?

AGENT JUNE

[DEFENSIVE] Yes!

[AN UNCOMFORTABLY LONG PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

So, there was this girl in the coffeeshop.

AGENT MAY

She seemed fairly young. Must have been in either high school or college. She was staring at me over her laptop the whole time. Like she was, I don’t know, stalking prey. It was like her eyes were knives, and she was trying to carve my flesh off.

AGENT JUNE

So, she defo wasn’t just idly looking or whatever. Like, you’re pretty sure she was thinking about killing you?

AGENT MAY

Well, there’s no way I can know for certain, now, is there?

[A BEAT.] She was wearing a black fabric surgical mask, though.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Do you think she was—?

AGENT MAY

I can’t say for sure.

AGENT JUNE

I mean, it might have been an accessory, but we’re in Daughtler, Washington—

AGENT MAY

I’m not going back there to check. Okay? If we see her again, maybe we can consider interviewing her, but I don’t feel comfortable going back to see her.

AGENT JUNE

[UNDERSTANDING] Alright.

[AGENT MAY SIGHS.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] Alright. I won’t force you.

AGENT MAY

I—I appreciate that.

[THERE'S A PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Uh, how’d you sleep?

AGENT MAY

About as well as I could in a car seat.

AGENT JUNE

Okay, I can’t just keep letting you sleep in the car. It was kind of funny at first, but now I just— [HIS SENTENCE TRAILS OFF IN VAGUE STUTTERS.]

AGENT MAY

[BEAT.] Well?

AGENT JUNE

I feel bad! Alright? I mean, look at me, I have this whole room to myself, and meanwhile, my partner is sleeping in a company vehicle that may or may not have bloodstains in the backseat.

[BEAT, THEN] Actually, I’d love to talk about those weird dark stains later, because uh, what, but I’ll let it slide for now. It’s still gotta be super uncomfortable, though.

AGENT MAY

We could always take turns.

AGENT JUNE

No, what I’m saying is I don’t think either of us have to sleep in the car! There has got to be a better solution.

AGENT MAY

The Foundation already declined giving us a second room, or trying to transfer us to a larger one. Trust me, I tried.

AGENT JUNE

Dammit.

[A LONG PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

It's king-sized, you know.

[ANOTHER LONG PAUSE.]

AGENT MAY

Do you think the motel has spare blankets? I think I could try sleeping on the floor.

[THOUGH UNSEEN, AGENT JUNE LOOKS INTO THE CAMERA LIKE HE’S IN THE OFFICE.]

AGENT MAY

…I’ll go down and ask later.

AGENT JUNE

Good idea.

[A BEAT. THERE'S SUIT RUSTLING AS AGENT MAY CHECKS HIS WATCH.]

AGENT MAY

We should head out soon.

AGENT JUNE

You’re really glued to that watch of yours, huh?

AGENT MAY

Excuse me?

AGENT JUNE

Not that it’s bad, you just check it a lot. I don’t really know what watch etiquette is, but I think you look at it more than most people do. I’ve also noticed you tend to look at it more around specific times? Is there a reason, or—?

AGENT MAY

[MORE SERIOUS THAN THE CONVERSATION WARRANTS] It’s none of your business. Perhaps I simply prefer to keep on schedule. Let’s go.

AGENT JUNE

[SLIGHTLY CONFUSED] Oh, um, okay. Sorry. [UNDER HIS BREATH] Jeez. Let me just—

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[ANOTHER BEEP.]

[INT. THE OPEN EYES BOOKSTORE BACKROOM, EARLY, EARLY MORNING.]

HOLLY

Are you recording?

PHOEBE

Yes, yes, I am.

HOLLY

Kind of weird to be doing this so early in the morning.

PHOEBE

I’m sorry, I know it’s super early. Night just felt…well, it felt more dangerous, I guess? Even Grandma Doe recommended not doing it too late. I wanted to get it done before the shop opened, though.

HOLLY

Oh no, I don’t mind. I guess people usually just consider night to be “the witching hour.”

PHOEBE

This isn’t really witchcraft, though, is it?

HOLLY

Guess not. Most modern witchcraft is a lot more…chill, I guess?

PHOEBE

Right. [A BEAT.] Do you think it’s really a good idea to be doing this in the back room?

HOLLY

Well, it’s not like we have anywhere else. It’d be super shady if we did it right outside, and your forestry friend would be pissed if we went out into the woods to do it.

PHOEBE

[NERVOUS] There’s so much paper, though. I mean, we could easily set the whole thing alight. My apartment’s really small, I know, but maybe we could—?

HOLLY

Don’t worry about it. We did a pretty good job clearing stuff out to make space, I think. It should be fine, I mean, a lot of the most flammable stuff either got moved out or shoved against the wall.

Besides, didn’t she say that it might be good to do it here for like, symbolic purposes?

PHOEBE

Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. [SHE CHUCKLES.] Maybe this will finally give me incentive to organize everything.

HOLLY

[SHE LAUGHS, SOMEWHAT NERVOUSLY.] If this works, then hopefully you’ll be able to do that anyways.

PHOEBE

That’s true, yes. I, um, guess we should get started. Can you read the directions?

HOLLY

Of course.

[HOLLY IS HEARD UNFOLDING A PIECE OF PAPER.]

HOLLY

[READING] The purpose of all of this is energy. You are lighting fire to produce energy. You are grinding berries and eating them to produce it as well. Ether functions under this key desire for vitality. If you can understand this simple principle, this keen need it has, it will treat you much more kindly.

By designing this ritual for you, my hope is that it will spell out as clear as day to Ether what you are trying to achieve. It rarely gives people what they want, rather it gives what it sees fit for them. You must steer it in the correct direction, or else it will choose a different fate for you.

These instructions are similar to what Valencia and I did, as well as symbolic for what you hope to achieve. However, nobody has ever developed an exact science for how these rituals function. We may only rely on guesswork and hope. While I would like to develop more specific procedures and instructions, I do not know if I ever will. Perhaps that could be your task.

[BREAKING READING] Could I skip her whole monologue? We already read it, and I don’t think it’s important in-the-moment.

PHOEBE

Sure.

HOLLY

Cool.

[SHE FLIPS THE PAPER.]

HOLLY

Materials needed: Yarn or string to create a casting circle. Some people use salt, but it produces an awful mess. Several circles of yarn around you and your workspace will work just fine.

PHOEBE

We did that already.

HOLLY

Yup. [READING AGAIN] Three white candles with words carved into them. It does not matter what the words are, they simply have to be legible and completely cover the candle. No numbers. I just wrote out song lyrics on that one.

PHOEBE

Oh, that’s neat! I, um, did poems I like.

HOLLY

Cute. [A BEAT.] A lighter or match of some kind. Someplace to safely burn paper—we got a metal bin, so we’re good. Did you turn off the smoke alarm?

PHOEBE

I did, yeah.

HOLLY

Let’s hope the place doesn’t burn down, then. [CHUCKLE, THEN] I’m joking, I promise. It should be fine. [SHE CLEARS HER THROAT.]

A book—you will be tearing out each individual page, so to save time, I suggest a children’s book. A bowl or container of some kind. Elderberries, I recommend you cook them beforehand, but make sure none of them are pre-mashed. Something to mash the elderberries with. Finally, a few drops of your blood, or something to draw blood with. That’s what the sewing needle is for, right? You sure you don’t want a blade? I have a pocket knife.

PHOEBE

[UNCOMFORTABLE] I get nervous around knives, but thank you for the offer.

Oh—actually, I wanted to ask, um, where did you find elderberries? I couldn’t find them anywhere.

HOLLY

I asked the bartender down the street.

PHOEBE

Huh.

HOLLY

Yeah, they make all sorts of weird cocktails. Are you ready? Once we start, we can’t stop until it’s complete.

PHOEBE

[WITH WEIGHT, NERVOUS, BUT DETERMINED] I’m ready.

HOLLY

Okay.

[HOLLY FLIPS THE PAPER AGAIN. THERE’S A PAUSE.]

HOLLY

Phoebe?

PHOEBE

Yeah?

HOLLY

Whatever happens, I—we’ll be okay, alright? No matter what. I’ll make sure of it, I swear.

PHOEBE

[TENDERLY] Thank you.

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS THEY ARE HEARD KISSING. HOLLY TAKES A DEEP BREATH.]

HOLLY

Create a circle around— Okay, we already did that. Um, Start by lighting the candles.

[PHOEBE IS HEARD LIGHTING A MATCH AND LIGHTING ALL THREE CANDLES.]

HOLLY

Tear each individual piece of paper out of the book. One by one, burn each piece of paper using fire from the candles. Once you have burned each page, burn the cover. Do not attempt to put any of the fires out. This tedious process shows care and dedication. The blood in later steps is there for a similar purpose.

[PHOEBE IS HEARD TEARING PAGES OUT OF A CHILDREN’S BOOK AND LIGHTING THEM ON FIRE. THERE’S A LONG PAUSE AS SHE DOES SO.]

PHOEBE

Good thing this book only has twenty pages. [A BEAT.] What’s next?

[PHOEBE IS STILL TEARING PAPER IN THE BACKGROUND, AND THE BURNING SFX GOES ON FOR SOME TIME.]

HOLLY

Uh—place your elderberries in the bowl and begin mashing them in a clockwise motion. As you do this, speak out loud and ask Ether to grant you knowledge and the ability to see what others do not. There should be no misunderstanding in what you are trying to achieve, and if you have garnered Ether’s attention, it should have already decided what it shall do with you. [MUTTERS] Fuckin’ weird.

[PHOEBE CEASES HER PAGE-TEARING.]

PHOEBE

The book is done. Pass me the spice grinder with the berries?

[HOLLY PASSES PHOEBE THE SPICE GRINDER.]

PHOEBE

Thank you.

[PHOEBE IS HEARD GRINDING THE ELDERBERRIES.]

PHOEBE

[WHISPERING TO HERSELF] Ether, um, whoever or whatever you are, if you are listening to me, please grant me knowledge. Grant me the power to see what others do not. Let me see and know everything.

[THERE IS A RINGING HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND AS HOLLY SPEAKS.]

HOLLY

If this works, the words on the candle should begin to—holy—God!

[HOLLY STUMBLES BACK.]

PHOEBE

Glow?

HOLLY

[FREAKING OUT] Yup? Uh—they’re actually glowing, what the—

PHOEBE

[OVERLAPPING] What’s next?

HOLLY

Sorry, sorry. [SHE RUFFLES THE PAPER IN HER HAND.] Mix a few drops of your blood into the elderberries.

PHOEBE

Pass me the sewing needle.

[HOLLY PASSES PHOEBE THE NEEDLE. SHE PRICKS HER FINGER.]

PHOEBE

[UNDER HER BREATH] Ow.

[SHE LETS A FEW DROPS COME OUT, SUCKS ON HER FINGER BRIEFLY, THEN MIXES HER BLOOD IN.]

HOLLY

Drink the elderberry mash. You must consume every bit of it, or at least as much as you can.

PHOEBE

[GROWING IN A MIX OF PANIC AND EXCITEMENT] This is it—I mean—wait, I’m about to consume my blood, that’s weird, but—this is really it.

HOLLY

[ENCOURAGING] You can do it.

[PHOEBE IS HEARD DRINKING THE ELDERBERRY MASH. THERE IS A PAUSE.]

HOLLY

If successful, the candles will—

[THE CANDLES ARE HEARD EXTINGUISHING.]

HOLLY

…blow out.

PHOEBE

[SLIGHTLY SICK] I think I got it all.

HOLLY

How do you feel? Is—has anything changed?

PHOEBE

I feel…I feel like there’s a part of me that was never there before. Like, my internal self expands farther out than my physical self, like I’m floating, it’s—I need to go lie down.

HOLLY

I’ll take you upstairs. It worked, though?

PHOEBE

I think it did. I mean, Grandma Doe said I would feel some sort of immediate change, but the rest of it would trickle in slowly. I feel different, though.

HOLLY

[SLOWLY, CAUTIOUS] Does this mean you’re not human anymore?

PHOEBE

[A BEAT.] I haven’t thought about that. I mean, I think I might just kind of be human plus? I’m not sure. Grandma Doe was still mortal, after all—she felt pain, she got ill—her mind was just super advanced. Does that make me inhuman?

HOLLY

I…I don’t think so. I think you just have mind powers or whatever.

PHOEBE

I’ll think about it later. I’m just going to try to get some sleep before the shop opens.

HOLLY

You don’t even have to open today, you know. People will understand if you just say you’re ill. Or I could run it for today, since there’s usually less traction on weekdays.

PHOEBE

[SINCERE] Thank you.

HOLLY

Of course.

PHOEBE

[SHE SIGHS.] Okay, time to—

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[ANOTHER PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. IRENE’S HOUSE, MIDDAY.]

IRENE

I just got home from work. Apparently, Phoebe did that ritual early this morning. It went well, from what Holly told me, though Phoebe’s been taking the day off to rest.

Oh, and they also posted that advert on the bulletin board yesterday. You know, for someone to develop Valencia’s film.

That’s not important right now. You know what is important?

This morning, at work, I opened up a folder on my computer and guess what was in it? A new audio recording where there shouldn’t be one. Guess the technological gods have decided to be generous today.

I decided to wait until I got off to listen to it. It’s dated shortly after the incident, so I think it might be important.

Besides, work has been…well, different, since the Spread. I haven’t told Carol or Aden that’s what it’s called, though. The whole incident brought us closer together, but I think that’s a double-edged sword. They know me well enough, now, I think they can tell I’m hiding something. Aden definitely knows I am—I mean, what I told him was pretty cryptic, but Carol I think just…knows. She’s just like that. [SCOFF] Maybe that’s part of her motherly instincts.

Right, that’s beside the point. Back to the recording.

Here goes nothing.

[IRENE CLICKS ON THE FILE.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. DRIVING, LATE AT NIGHT.]

[THERE IS THE AMBIANCE OF DRIVING DOWN A DESOLATE FOREST ROAD AS THEY TALK.]

UNKNOWN GIRL

Does it work?

ROSE

I believe so.

UNKNOWN GIRL

[SHE SNORTS.] About as well as a cheap cell phone from Walmart could, I imagine?

ROSE

It just has to be able to record and make emergency calls. I’m not too worried about it. Thank you, again. Really, I owe you.

UNKNOWN GIRL

Hey, I didn’t buy it. I just walked into the store and handed your money to the guy behind the counter. It’s not a big deal.

[DULLY SKEPTICAL] You’re trying pretty hard to cover up your tracks, you know. Destroying your phone, not wanting to be seen in public to go get a new one, only paying in cash. Almost makes it sound like you’re a criminal or something.

ROSE

[FRANTIC] I’m not! I swear, I’m not.

UNKNOWN GIRL

No need to get defensive. Look, I get it. We all have reasons to want to disappear. I’m surely in no position to judge.

You know, I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I feel like we might actually have a lot in common.

ROSE

Why is that?

UNKNOWN GIRL

We both don’t know where we’re going, or why.

ROSE

[UNDER HER BREATH] Oh, I know why.

UNKNOWN GIRL

So you do have a reason?

ROSE

It’s not a big deal.

UNKNOWN GIRL

Your secret’s safe with me, you know.

ROSE

It’s nothing. Really. Just…do you have to know or—?

UNKNOWN GIRL

Well, do I have any reason to?

ROSE

No, but do you even have a reason to be helping me?

UNKNOWN GIRL

[DEADPAN] What can I say? I’m a generous soul.

[A BEAT.] Say, why did you want something to record with, anyways?

ROSE

I, um—it’s stupid.

UNKNOWN GIRL

Try me.

ROSE

It’s—well. I guess I don’t want to be forgotten? I want some way for people to find out what happened to me when…if…you know. There’s…if something does happen to me, there’s at least one person who deserves to know.

UNKNOWN GIRL

You think you’re going to get yourself killed?

ROSE

I don’t know. I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry?

UNKNOWN GIRL

But you have someone you know will want to listen. [CONNECTING THE DOTS] You weren’t a loner before you left, were you? You left someone important behind, and now you feel bad. You owe them an explanation.

ROSE

[UNCOMFORTABLY] Yes. Right. I guess.

[A BEAT.] I don’t want to talk about this anymore.

UNKNOWN GIRL

Who did you abandon?

ROSE

[RAISING HER VOICE SLIGHTLY] I said I’m done.

UNKNOWN GIRL

Alright, alright.

[A BEAT.] If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you prod at me a bit.

ROSE

[HESITANT] Where did you get your name? Wednesday is such a unique name, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it outside of stories.

WEDNESDAY [UNKNOWN GIRL]

It’s certainly no ‘Mary,’ is it?

ROSE

I mean, obviously. My name’s pretty basic.

WEDNESDAY

I actually chose it after I left home. Not like that, just never liked the name my parents gave me. Kept the last name ‘White,’ though. It has a ring to it.

ROSE

Was there a reason for it, or did it just sound nice?

WEDNESDAY

When people meet someone with a weird name, that tends to be the thing that most grabs their attention. “I met a girl named after a day of the week today, isn’t that bizarre?” I didn’t want to be remembered for anything I didn’t want people to see. If one thing was going to stick with them, it would be my name, but not quite the face that goes with it. Just the girl with an odd name.

ROSE

So you want to be forgotten?

WEDNESDAY

Not forgotten, but I want control over the memory of me. I want to fade away into obscurity, but not obscure enough that it’s suspicious.

ROSE

[KIND OF UNCOMFORTABLE] You’ve thought about this a lot.

WEDNESDAY

When you’re like me, you have to.

ROSE

Wh—what does that—

WEDNESDAY

[OVERLAPPING] Do you need me to stop at the gas station up ahead?

[THERE’S A SLIGHTLY TOO LONG PAUSE.]

ROSE

Um, yeah, I have to—

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[INT. IRENE’S HOUSE, EARLY EVENING, THE SAME DAY.]

[THERE’S A LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

[STILL PROCESSING IT AS SHE SPEAKS.] Okay. Okay! This is definitely a start. A great start, actually!

Okay, let’s see, uh—after you ran away, you destroyed your phone—no wonder the police couldn’t track it—and then you went with some person named Wednesday.

That’s definitely a start. If I can figure out where Wednesday—White, was it?—yeah, Wednesday White. I know Wednesday probably isn’t her legal name, but I might still be able to find her somewhere. If I can find Wednesday White, I might have a good shot at finding you. That’s great news!

[A SLIGHTLY TOO LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

[HER ENTHUSIASM DYING] I don’t trust Wednesday, though.

[A BEAT.] Okay, maybe I shouldn’t be so skeptical. I mean, you’re not an idiot, Rose. You wouldn’t hitch hike with just any random stranger. Would you? Doesn’t even seem like you gave her your real name, she called you ‘Mary.’

[SHE HUFFS A SIGH.] Maybe I’m just being defensive. Still, she seemed off, didn’t she? That whole thing she said about her name just kind of rubbed me the wrong way. She prodded a lot, too. Almost as if she wanted to make you uncomfortable.

I could be reading into it too much. I guess I won’t know until I find her. Hopefully, she didn’t fade into obscurity too much. There’s gotta be some record of her existence online. If I’m lucky, she might be on social media or something. Who knows? Lots of time has passed.

[A PAUSE, THEN, SOFTLY] That person, you—were you recording for me? You wanted me to know you hadn’t abandoned me on purpose. [HURT] And here I was, thinking you would just leave without reason. That you had betrayed me in some way. I’m—Rose, I’m so sorry—

[JUST AS SHE SAYS “SORRY,” HER PHONE BEGINS VIBRATING. SHE PICKS IT UP.]

IRENE

[SKEPTICAL] There’s an unknown number calling me.

[SHE ANSWERS.]

IRENE

Hello?

CALLER

Hello? Is this the person who posted an ad outside of Open Eyes Bookstore?

IRENE

Oh! Um, yeah, that’s me. Wow, I didn’t expect to hear from someone so fast.

CALLER

I’m an observant person. I like to make my rounds throughout the town. You’ll never know what you’ll find, after all. Or who.

Anyways, you have some film that needs to be developed, right? Well, it just so happens to be your lucky day, because I have a dark room.

IRENE

That’s fantastic. I can pay you however much you want, just—

CALLER

[OVERLAPPING] Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’m studying photography, so the experience is payment enough. No worries!

IRENE

That’s very kind of you, thank you.

CALLER

Of course!

Oh, where are my manners? My name is Sadie. Sadie Creed. And you are…?

IRENE

Irene.

SADIE

Irene! How cute. Where do you want me to pick up your film?

IRENE

Um, I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but I would prefer to meet out in the open? Is that a problem?

SADIE

Not at all. How about Lemongrass Park?

IRENE

That’s actually perfect, yeah.

SADIE

Great! I’m happy to meet you tomorrow night at 8:00, if that time works for you? I know that’s a bit late, but I work at the candy shop until then.

IRENE

That should be fine, yeah.

SADIE

Looking forward to it! Pleasure doing business with you, Irene. Bye-bye!

[SADIE HANGS UP.]

IRENE

Huh. Well, I guess that solves that.

Time to go find Wednesday White.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: A wave of grass engraves upon the stone: ‘There is more than one good way to drown.’

Sylvia Plath in "Epitaph in Three Parts," 1955.

[OUTRO MUSIC AND CREDITS PLAY.]

MICRO-COSMOS PROMOTIONAL AD [written by Jesse Smith]

[THERE ARE STATIC NOISES.]

ATHENA

This is Communications Athena Romero of OEC #0137-F recording from a… still, unknown location on the infant planet Ophiuchus-22. Though I have my… well, rational, doubts, something in me feels as though this transmission might actually be reaching someone. Might just be desperation, though. Most likely just desperation. Regardless. We would appreciate any and all OC representatives or employees, or individuals otherwise receiving this transmission, to please send a response. We have been recording mandatory and otherwise necessary emergency chronicling logs for days now. Please.

[WE HEAR MILES'S FOOTSTEPS APPROACH.]

MILES

(distant) Athena, are you sending out another transmission? They’re not going to-

[C41 APPEARS WITH THEIR USUAL PING.]

C41

Shhh, let her do her thing, Miles. She needs to set her character up correctly for the new listeners that are hearing this promotional advertisement.

MILES

The new— what?

C41

What?

MILES

What are you talking about?

FELIX

I believe what Cal is doing is called “breaking the fourth wall,” my friend.

MILES

Breaking the what now?

C41

Oh, just forget about it.

[MILES GROANS; WE HEAR ALEX APPROACH.]

ALEX

What about a promotional advertisement?

ATHENA

Guys, could you… [SIGHS] I am trying to finish this log, so could you please give me a moment?

ALEX

Sorry, Starshine, I just got a little caught up in the whole “self-aware and breaking the fourth wall” thing.

ATHENA

It’s… fine.

C41

If I were you, Athena, I would close your log out by telling the listener to tune in to Micro-Cosmos: A Science Fiction Podcast, wherever you get your podcasts! The show is created by a crew of LGBTQ+ people, and features strange infant planets, brief romantic scenes before epic tragedy, cool sci-fi terminology, and adorably talented AI units, like myself!

ATHENA

Micro-?

C41

More information on the show can be found on its website: “microcospod.space”, OR its Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, or TikTok, which all have the handle “@microcospod.”

MILES

… uh huh.

[THE CREW SITS IN SILENCE FOR A SECOND.]

C41

That’s just what I would say, though.

MILES

… Cal, we really need to figure out what is going on with this new phase of yours.

[alienisticxo]

X Angel - Chapter Two

Elon Musk x Reader

{Authors Note} Thanks to some encouragement on AO3 I will be continuing this strange little story. So if you happen to come across it, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: An uncomfortable instance.

Bright white camera bulbs flashed in every direction, the shrill ringing of screams filling my ears until I couldn’t hear myself think anymore. I was blinded by the light that flooded with every rapid click, snapping away at my every move as I exited the Cybertruck I’d been driven in. I was already fashionably late to a discreet -or maybe not so, now- meeting set up by the head representatives of my record label, Astra Records. My manager had decided to tip off the media, and my publicist decided to make it an event without it exactly being one.

It was a complex task, staring into those brazen flashes without so much as a flinch, but that was what was required of me. That was my job and life’s mission for as long as I held the position I did. The ‘drugged out’ smile I was known for never faltered as the flawless chrome of my body reflected every photographer's shining glamor shot right back into their lenses. Despite being surrounded by personnel, security and otherwise, people still clawed and clamored their way forward in an attempt to invade my space as I walked toward the large building before me.

“{Y/N}, over here!” one yelled.

“Give us a wink, will ya?” yelled another.

“I’d fucking die for you!” a shriek made itself heard over everyone else in the roaring crowd.

I just smiled and continued to trek, my {H/C} hair drifting around my face and behind me. I concentrated on my gait, my posture, the way my expression felt as I stepped past my adoring audience.

One misstep and it’s all over, of course.

Occasionally I thought about what a strange thing fame was. People would die or kill for you, just to see you or speak to you. We were all the same, deep down. No matter the wiring or blood that ran under our skin, or chrome. The only ones who seemed to place others on pedestals for no true reason other than a little talent that thousands of others had and would never get the chance to share, were other lifeforms. What really made someone want to know me more than another being who can do the same things, maybe even better? The only difference between myself and someone who possessed the same talents was that no one except the other party’s close circle of friends and family knew of their capabilities. We did it to ourselves, really. If only everyone were looked at the same way.

My security guards pushed against me then, catching me off guard in a crucial moment that could’ve been dangerous for me in more ways than one. They were blocking a rogue fan who’d been dying to ‘feel me.’

I tensed up in the absolute slightest manner as I followed Jett, my manager, into the tall metallic building that was made up of glass, but reflected the entire city skyline on its exterior, catching the neon glow, Saturn and the twinkling stars above with it. Privacy was a must, of course. Being able to see out but not being able to see in was imminent for any corporation’s design. The large double doors that disappeared with a glitch as we approached, reappeared behind us as we stepped further into the lobby of Astra Records. The noise of the rowdy crowd just beyond the front steps of the building sounded as though it was sucked back outside and muffled, like someone had put a lid over the heaps of people screaming my name.

“You’d think they wouldn’t need those old school cameras anymore,” I commented, the exasperation in my voice clear as I relaxed a bit more from escaping the masses, disappearing deeper into the lobby until the sound was no longer audible at all.

“{Y/N}, how else are they going to send the pictures back to Earth?” Jett asked me, a hint of condescension in his tone before pausing.

“People sure are different here aren’t they? They worship you celebrities like gods, worse than little fangirls back on Earth.”

I stared ahead, continuing my trek to the teleportation pad without entertaining his thoughts.

“Fuck, I’m in the wrong business,” he continued in slight disbelief to himself. “Maybe I’ll figure out how to go chrome and become a star instead of managing all you shitheads,” he joked snidely, a nasty grin on his metal-grilled teeth as he turned his head over his shoulder to look at me.

Jett had come to X from Earth after having no luck finding any clients to manage once the great exodus of the rich and famous began. Places like Los Angeles, New York City, London and Tokyo had already been cut throat with the industry players. Once everything fell out, no one trusted a soul to handle their affairs anymore.

It wasn’t hard to see that Jett wasn’t exactly a clean cut looking person to begin with, either.

It was my luck I’d be stuck with him at Astra, but I knew in all aspects I was just that— lucky. I didn’t complain. How could I?

However, as he put it, he hitched a ride on the next flight out and got to work right away with the record label. It was just that easy, and he was just that good.

Sure.

“It doesn’t work like that,” I finally responded in a flat tone to his statement, my eyes scanning the confines of the space as we stood a few feet from the pad. Jett pulled the oversized and black-reflective shades from his eyes then, turning his body to look at me. He lecherously stepped closer before running his -what I assumed to be- warm fingers down the side of my cold cheek slowly, his eyes raking up and down my frame. My jaw clenched unbeknownst to him, and I kept my gaze straight ahead.

“You are a sweet design, I’ll give them that… If it weren’t for security on your ass all the time…”

His eyes moved to the front doors in the near distance behind me as my security team approached us from their previous position handling the crowd, and with that, he let out an abrupt howl, snapping his fingers against the palm of his hand and turning back to lead me upstairs with a cocky gait.

It was moments like that that made my stomach churn. I had to deal with the disgusting remarks and actions, to take them like a champ without even indicating that I acknowledged them at all.

If I did, it was my life on the line.

I was just glad that was the extent of it from him. Even more grateful that that was the extent of it from anyone.

With a silent exhale, and no outward show of disapproval, I swiftly followed behind him onto the teleportation device, ignoring everything he’d said like it simply never happened. With one quick scan of our bodies, as fast as I blinked my {E/C} eyes, we were standing outside of the boardroom I’d only seen twice before. Once to meet the representatives, and the last time to sign myself away to them. As my security team entered next, I searched my surroundings again. The whole floor, who’s exterior wall overlooked another angle of Drax City and a beautiful moon above it, felt familiar as I caught sight of the usual decor. It was dark save for the neon buzzed along the walls, palm trees that were coated in a glittery powder that grew on the leaves as per a new gardening experiment sat in pots in corners next to chrome coated lounge couches and translucent coffee tables. A muted holographic television screen played Astra’s channel on it against a wall, and I saw myself there, giving the last corrupt public service announcement that the Planet X Space Association worked with the label for so long and so hard to have me release to the masses. PXSA was our form of government and space flight. An odd combination, but one nonetheless. I didn’t necessarily believe in the things they forced me to read aloud; fill the heads of the unwise and naive with. But the check was nice, and I was in no position to decline their wishes.

The large area was cast in purple, blue and pink light as nostalgic pinball machines blinked from a short distance away, offering a “glimpse into the past.” Another client, brand new, sat on a couch and played a video game through the latest virtual reality headset, the images they saw being cast across another holographic screen while they waited. It was all very pretty, really, very modern and yet fantastical as I had remembered it from before. But despite the ethereal atmosphere, I still felt uneasy.

I had no idea who I was meeting and what I was meeting them for this time. No one ever seemed to feel the need to tell me much of anything when it came to business affairs. I was told where to go, I showed up on schedule or a little late, and I did what I had to do as I learned what that was upon arrival. The rest was simply code and programming to the people who ran my life; there was no room for error, and I had to learn fast and according to the individual's expectations of me-- or better. I followed Jett down the long purple hued hallway just off of the lounge area, his sleazy demeanor seeping from his pores as he stalked his way to another pair of double doors and stopped as it scanned his body. He looked back over his shoulder at me once more with a smirk before turning and walking through them dramatically, announcing my presence as though I were some prized show pony come to a town where nothing ever happened.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the one, the only, Drax City’s own, {Y/F/N}... {Y/L/N}!”

That was my cue.

He stepped aside, his hands reaching out and over to exhibit my presence once I made my way through the doors behind him and stopped in my tracks, my heels still seeming to echo through the large room. Holding my head up high -chin slightly in the air like the small, but statuesque figure I was- was expected from me. And as I held my position, I immediately noticed eleven pairs of eyes sitting around an iridescent boardroom table that were set on nothing other than me as they quickly and quietly gasped and gawked.

“Her figure, the quality,” one drew out.

“I didn’t expect her to be so… so lifelike, in person,” said another.

“Oh yeah, she’s a real beauty,” said Jett, stepping around me then, his hand tightening around the metallic surface of my waist before raking through my hair as though I were a child’s doll. “X hasn’t seen a model like this… Ever. She’s the most famous pop star on our planet— They can’t get enough, eat her up like candy. That’s why she doesn’t come cheap, boys.”

He patted my side then, making me feel like a used car being sold by a greaseball salesman.

That caught my attention, though. My head turned just a hair, but I caught myself before anyone could realize my reaction. I ground my teeth, trying to compose myself through the abrupt shock I was facing. Quickly fixating my line of sight on a neon lamp in the shape of a star that burned in the corner, I desperately attempted to hold my composure. My ears seemed to have failed me however, my thoughts taking front and center as the men briefly discussed things amongst themselves.

Are they going to sell me? To who? Why?

“Oh, we know all about her on Earth. That’s why we want her. We can imagine she’s a planetary treasure here on X, but she’s interplanetary. Labels, execs, people, would just kill to get their hands on her,” one man said, looking at me with a fever in his eye. I guessed he might’ve been the catalyst for my… purchase. The word tasted bitter on my tongue even as a mere thought.

“They’d listen to anything she tells them to do.”

Jett smirked, lifting a shoulder and asserting dominance in his own way.

“She goes to the highest bidder,” he responded blatantly. “And none of this ‘cash’ bullshit. She’s obviously makin’ us a lotta crypto. No one else can afford her. That’s why she’s still with us here at Astra.”

I allowed myself to slowly absorb the situation, then. Astra was trying to deal me away to Earth, the very place I’d almost died trying to escape, all for monetary gain. It wasn’t unheard of, stars being sent to Earth and even back again, but I was X’s golden girl. Or maybe chrome…

They needed me. More than they thought, I now realized. They couldn’t replace me.

Or maybe I was the one mistaken, maybe they could.

As my eyes scanned the area, I also noticed the nature of the collective individuals that sat before me. All in black and gray pressed suits, all male. They’d come here solely to make a deal, an offer Astra couldn’t refuse, and they weren’t leaving without a signed contract, empty pockets, and my life. Fight or flight kicked in, hitting me like a brick, but I couldn’t react. Everything was in slow motion, and it was killing me from the inside out, not being able to protest. It wasn’t in my nature, but I had to play ball now, and well.

One of the suited men stood up from a chair that floated behind the iridescent glazed table, which I now noticed held the reflection of the cityscape that could be seen through the windowed exterior wall as well. He walked over to me with a drilling stare, his stride confident and assertive.

“And this is 100% cybernetic?” He asked Jett, as though I weren’t even in the room.

“Yes,” he spat incredulously.

“What model is she? From who?”

The man stood before me, eyeing me from top to bottom. I wanted to scream.

“That’s the thing,” Jett began again, moving to lean against the table. “We don’t know. She was left at our doors with a letter to the CEO, like some orphaned child. Said she had no recollection of anything other than her programming. We’re lucky her programming was to be a singer,” he finished with a snide grin.

The man snorted then. The tale was unbelievable, sure, but they had no choice but to believe it. There was simply no other excuse for me. A.I. was common, but I was as human as they were going to get, at least for the foreseeable future. That alone made me quite the commodity, something to be revered by other corporations, enterprises and record labels who needed a workhorse without the demands of humans. People saw themselves in me, they felt they could relate, or become just like me someday. This kept them eating out of the palm of whoever’s hand I spoke for and persuaded them to.

Still, the way my mind worked was not the same way as other A.I. beings. I had real demands in order to work, not lifting a finger otherwise, and I made sure they learned this once it was too late— once they couldn’t let me go anymore.

Unless you had enough crypto, apparently.

The older man examined what he could of my body with no regard for my own thoughts on the matter, looking everywhere for any indication of a branding or a code. His brow furrowed when he found none.

“Who are you?” he asked me then, seeming quite perplexed.

“{Y/N},” I smiled. “Drax City’s very own.”

“Where are you from?”

“Planet X, sir. Made and programmed. It’d be an honor to work with you and your people,” I lied. “This city gets kind of boring when you’ve done it all,” I finished exasperatedly.

“Very realistic,” he commented to Jett, his eyes still studying my face. “A.I. just keeps getting better and better. This is incredible. She’s so… human.”

“Did you think we were fuckin’ lying to you? I’m sure you’ve seen her all over TV, she might as well be a person. She thinks, she feels. Hell, I think I’ve seen her cry before,” he said, taking an apple that sat untouched and forever ripe from a bowl on the table. “And she doesn’t even rust.”

They conversed between each other then, deciding my fate with nothing more than cryptocurrency hanging between us. I wasn’t listening anymore, maybe it was a coping mechanism. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around the notion that they would just sell me away to Earth. Maybe I just didn’t want to think they would. They used me for everything they did, advertisements, sold out shows, records— even virtual reality experiences. They made crypto over crypto, dollars upon dollars, thanks to cutting government deals as long as I told everyone to listen. I showed up to every event, knew everyone who was anyone, and then a few more people. If they needed something, I’d do it. If I needed something, they’d do it. That’s just how this worked.

Until now.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when a man standing near the corner closest to the window that I hadn’t noticed before, finally spoke up.

The lights from the city beyond cast a glow over his features, mixing with the neon that lit up the room itself. I knew exactly who he was the moment my attention turned to him, not only by his face, but by his deep voice as well.

Attractive, tall, dark haired and with a presence that could command a room despite the quirkiness that he was often known for, it took everything in me to keep from going slackjawed and wide-eyed. His eccentricities were a staple of his personality, and enigmatic wasn't a word enough to describe him and the aura that surrounded him. Anyone would’ve recognized the man, no matter where they hailed from, and yet, his presence certainly caught me off guard. He was even better than the photos.

He was Elon Musk.

Elon was one of Earth’s most influential people, if not the most influential person. But on X, there was a mixed opinion of him that wasn’t exactly warranted. Though he had helped humans become an interplanetary species, among so many other things, as artificial intelligence became more prevalent, it began to turn on its creators. This caused quite a rift between the cyber world and the human world, lending more firepower behind the crime that had already begun to lace the streets due to the advancement that kept average people struggling to make ends meet and survive in the new world.

Elon was blamed for the downfall despite the warnings he’d cautioned the public with for years. It wasn’t until Neuralink was released to the public for use that humanity began to appreciate him again on a grander scale. He seemed to single handedly salvage humanity, curing medical issues that otherwise had no solution, allowing humans to live for much longer with far better quality of life. Of course, until Earth fell apart again.

Planet X, though, was built on technology; on futuristic ways of existing that he himself had paved the way for, thus causing its inhabitants to maintain far less respect for him. To Xians, futurism was par for the course. Elon wasn’t special there anymore. They ate advanced technology and cybernetics for breakfast, and spat it out into something better for lunch.

But to me, he was still a hero. Though we’d never so much as come close to each other, he had never let me down before. From electric vehicles to space travel, to underground tunnels and mock flamethrowers, his creative and profound mind was something I’d always admired from the moment I learned of his existence.

He had his share of blunders like much everyone else, but overall, I knew he was a decent man. No one had ever made it their life’s mission to help humanity on such a large scale with the capability he had, especially in some of the worst times of what we knew to be Earth’s existence. He valued helping humanity, and he was always honest about doing so. Elon Musk’s intelligence was beyond comprehension, in a way that made anyone want to sit down and pick his brain. And, well, he had a sense of humor on top of it all that made him feel more real than the idea of him even seemed.  

I wasn’t sure what to think of him on a personal level, most people had good things to say, others horror stories. I never thought about it too much or imagined him to be any kind of way, not wanting to tarnish any of the admiration I already had for him. I never expected to meet the man himself despite my position in the galaxy. I was a star, but he was far beyond me. Deep down though, I just hoped he was kind, nice; even if they say to never meet your heroes, because they’re usually quite the opposite.

It took every ounce of control to remain the composed little package they all expected me to be in the moment.

“I’d like to see her on my own,” he stated, every head in the room turning to face him as he did so.

[elysianrey]

 let me take your coat (and this weight off your shoulders)

He first notices her after his Thursday afternoon therapy session with Dr. Raynor. 

His brain begins to automatically profile her as it does with most people he interacts with these days. Short. At least 5’3”. Petite frame. Shoulder length, brown hair. Soft features. Brown eyes. Mid 30s. Jittery legs. Twisting fingers.

Old habits die hard, he supposes. 

She’s sitting in the waiting area of the mental health facility, eyes briefly meeting as his footsteps fall past her chair on his way out of the office. 

She looks familiar. 

Her eyes echo the same sentiment of recognition, which causes an uneasy feeling to creep into the pit of his stomach. His fingers tighten around the small leather notebook in his jacket pocket. The moment is broken as he shifts his attention back to the polished flooring. 

His gloved hand pushes the door open, leaving the brunette woman alone. 

+

 He spends the evening rifling through the pages of his notebook. His mind shuffles through the faces like an old film roll. Then he hits replay after his initial check. 

 Again. 

 Again. 

 Again. 

 He combs his fingers through his hair as he leans against the wall of his apartment. He lets out a small sigh of relief. 

 No connections to her are in the book. 

 +

 It becomes a habit for him every Thursday.

 Leave Dr. Raynor’s office. Walk through the lobby. Make eye contact with the brunette woman, whom he still can’t seem to place. Consider acknowledging her with a grin. Decide against it. Look down at the ground. Leave the facility. 

 He realizes he’s capable of acting more- human? Normal? Like an actual functioning adult in the twenty-first century. Dr. Raynor kindly reminds him of it every session, and yet, the creeping feeling of self-doubt never fails to get the better of him. 

 Yesterday. 

 Today. 

 And probably tomorrow. 

 +

 She’s not in the waiting area the following Thursday. 

 His feet pick up their pace to exit the facility that day, seeing as he has no real reason to take his time. His chest twinges in disappointment, despite having no good reason to. He doesn’t even know her name. In fact, the only real thing he knows about her is that she meets with a therapist on Thursday afternoons. Like him. 

 Which meant she was working through some stuff. Like him. 

 As he approaches the door, his eyes focused on the ground, the force of a body slamming into him nearly knocks him on his ass. His hands instinctively rise to steady the person apparently in a rush today. Then his breath catches upon realizing who is standing between his outstretched arms. 

 Her eyes are red-rimmed, cheeks puffy, and when she lifts her head to apologize, she suddenly begins to aggressively wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. Embarrassment mixing with the despair she is clearly experiencing. 

 He stammers. “I—are you ok—?”

 Before he can finish his question, she pulls back and cuts him off. “I’m so sorry—I really have to—“ 

 She stumbles around him and disappears past the receptionist and down the hall without another word, leaving him feeling confused and concerned all at the same time. 

 +

 He spends the next week worrying about her. 

 It’s better than worrying about his own demons. 

 Strangely, it gives his brain a small sense of relief.

 +

 Dr. Raynor has to reschedule for Friday. 

 He leaves flowers at the receptionist desk and tells them they’re for the brunette woman who comes in at 3. 

 He hopes she gets them. 

 +

 She’s approaching him before he has the chance to register her appearance in the lobby. Her small, yet self-assured frame blocks his exit to the double doors. She’s speaking and he immediately picks up that she uses her hands to get her point across. 

 “Hi. I just want to apologize for what happened a couple weeks ago. I hope I didn’t cause too much damage to—,” her right hand does a sweeping motion across his chest. “Anyway... my name is Jane. Jane Foster.” The woman extends her hand, eyes finally meeting his directly. 

 She’s nervous. Hesitant. 

 He takes it in his gloved, vibranium hand and gives it a gentle shake. “James. And don’t worry about it.” She smiles and he returns the effort out of politeness. 

 She drops his hand and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Well, it was nice to meet you James. I better head—“ She finishes her sentence by pointing in the opposite direction, toward the hallway of therapist offices. 

 He gives her a nod, stepping out of her way. Jane starts past him and before she can get too far, the words slip out of his mouth. 

 “Would you want to maybe grab a drink sometime?” James can’t help but inwardly cringe at the awkward bluntness in the question, however there’s no going back now. 

 Jane turns and bites down on her lower lip. “Yeah,” she replies. “Yeah that would be nice.”

 +

 James sits on his makeshift bed in his apartment living room, scrolling through the contacts on his phone list. Sam. Shuri. Dr. Raynor. Clint. His apartment manager. 

 And now Jane Foster. 

 Dr. Raynor wasn’t kidding when she chastised him for only having ten contacts. At least he had added one name to his list. 

 They were meeting tonight at 8 pm. She suggested a small, trendy downtown bar that had a bizarre name he couldn’t prounounce. He wonders if this date was going to be like all the others. 

 Fake. Stiff. Unbearable. 

 A small part of him tries to insist that Jane is different. Sure, he can’t logically reason how he knows this, yet he can’t shake the feeling she is different in some way to the other women he’s met since his return. 

 +

 He’s right. 

 She’s unlike anyone woman he’s ever met in the twenty-first century. 

 It’s not hard to get Jane talking about herself, and once he does, he spends nearly the rest of the evening listening to her talk about her work with space. 

 He learns she’s an astrophysicist and she’s in New York working at the Simons Foundation. She disappeared during The Blip too and now she’s trying to make up for the 5 years she lost. Jane’s passion for learning more about the universe captivates him. She shares some of the theories she has about other universes that may exist and he’s left in awe as she paints pictures into his mind of periwinkle planets, alien lifeforms, and methods of possibly meeting them. 

 She doesn’t get the chance to ask him many questions, which is a relief.

 Her laughter is light, the alcohol clearly easing the weight of the world that she wears like a prisoner around her shoulders. He doesn’t know what she was like before whatever shit got to her, but he enjoys seeing Jane this way. Carefree. 

 He asks if he can see her again. 

 She says yes. 

 +

 She texts him about an upcoming Celestial event. A telescope will allow you to see Saturn’s rings and moons all night if the sky is clear. 

 He buys a telescope and sets it up on the roof of his apartment building and spends hours watching Saturn from his point on Earth. It makes him feel like a small speck in comparison to everything beyond this planet. He wants to find out more of what this life has to offer before it’s too late and it reminds him of his effort of making amends for his past sins. 

 Clearly he still has a lot of work to do. 

 +

 She admits that she did some digging and she knows who he really is on their third date. He supposes he’s not too surprised at her inquisitiveness, but her declaration suddenly makes him feel entirely exposed and vulnerable. 

 They’re sitting in the corner of a quiet coffee shop and James eyes the nearest exit because his chest is contracting and the air is not meeting his lungs like it should. His heart hammers in his chest as hard as his metal fist did against the cryogenic cage Hyrda imprisoned him in time and time again. 

 “I have a friend who is pretty skilled at finding out about people,” she continues lowly, toying at the ceramic coffee cup. “I just—didn’t feel right lying to you about it. You looked familiar when I saw you in Dr. Raynor’s office that first day.”

 He tries to relax the muscles in his neck and shoulders. “No, I understand. So I guess you know I’m pretty messed up then?” He had never personally seen his own file, however it wasn’t hard to imagine what it contained. 

 Jane let out a breathy laugh, as if she couldn’t quite believe what he said. “Aren’t we all, James?”

 +

 The weather is nice enough to start meeting in Central Park and they begin taking strolls around the park during her lunch breaks every day. They play a game where he gets to ask her a question about her past and then she gets to ask him a question about his past and they have to answer honestly. Maybe it’s reminiscent of his meetings with Dr. Raynor, yet James is willing to open up because Jane is too, and he recognizes it’s not easy for either of them. 

 Sometimes they only get through one question, the memories being too painful, and in those moments, their fingers tentatively find the others. It’s reassuring, this insignificant brush of skin against glove, and James suddenly wishes he wasn’t wearing the gloves. It’s been too long since he’s felt the touch of another against his bare skin. 

 He decides to take the right one off when he’s with her. James makes sure he’s standing on her left side for their walks and his heart flips in his chest when she unexpectedly intertwines her fingers with his. She gives him a squeeze and he returns it, an actual smile ghosting the corners of his lips.

 Maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him or maybe it’s just the sun, but he swears he sees a faint blush creeping up her fair cheeks.

 +

 She invites him over to the apartment the foundation is paying rent for after her therapy session. Jane insists that she is more than capable of making something for the both of them that tops the usual take out they have a habit of settling for when they hang out together. So he can’t help but let out a chuckle and a teasing comment when he walks into a smoking kitchen and the fire alarm beeping wildly while a flustered Jane is scrambling to turn off the oven where a blackened chicken resides. 

 They end up ordering their usual take out.

 At the end of their sushi dinner, Jane sets her empty container on the coffee table in front of them and leans back into the armchair, tucking her feet beneath her. She’s oddly quiet and he stares from his spot across on the couch. Her brown eyes gaze distantly out the wall-length windows, her brilliant brain lost in thought. 

 He doesn’t mind the silence, of course, yet he feels a tug to pull her back from wherever she’s gone off to. “Do you ever dance?”

 Her lips curve upward. “Only if you count when I’m by myself and I have the radio blaring.” 

 James smiles at the mental image of a goofy Jane, throwing her arms and legs about in no particular rhythm. “Back in the 40s, I was known around the town for my swing dancing moves,” he informs her casually with a cock of his eyebrow. 

 She laughs, shooting him a mock expression of awe. “James Buchanan Barnes, I had no idea you were such a man of many talents.” 

 He nonchalantly shrugs and then practically bounces off the couch, extending his concealed, left hand to her. “It’s time you learn a move or two today, Ms. Foster.” 

 They rearrange some of Jane’s furniture around to make an adequate amount of space that won’t end in destruction. He begins by teaching her the basic steps, leading her slowly through each one until she insists she’s ready to go on to the next. He finds it ironic that out of all the damage Hydra did to his brain, he can still remember one of his favorite weekend activities from when he was a young man. Well, he’s still pretty young compared to his friends who were with him at the time. 

 If he’s being honest, Jane was born with two left feet, but she is determined to try regardless of her uncoordinated legs. By the end of the night, he gives her the name of a song to play on her Bluetooth speakers and they’re dancing away, Jane doing her best to keep up with the beat and James laughing every time she steps on his feet again. 

 He’s convinced he could stay in this moment forever. 

 +

 She surprises him by taking them to a jazz and swing dance club. 

 He swears he’s in love with her by the end of the evening. 

 He kisses her for the first time when they’re standing on the doorstep of her apartment. 

 +

 James is leaving Dr. Raynor’s office, ready to get as far away as possible from the head spinning forest wallpaper he’s stuck in front of every session when her words stop him in his tracks. 

 “You’re helping her, you know.” 

 He’s never said her name when they discuss her in his sessions. He assumed Jane saw Dr. Raynor too, seeing as she was connected to the superhero world, yet she’s never told him and he’s never asked. 

 He looks over his shoulder at the older woman, his hand still on the doorknob. “Actually, I think it’s the other way around.”

 +

 He has not made love to someone since before he was drafted into the war so when an evening of drinking and card games turns into take off one article of clothing every time you lose a game, James begins to sweat. He has a feeling he knows where this is leading when she’s seated on top of him, clad in only her undergarments, her hips grinding into his mercilessly. 

 It turns out she’s not a very good card player. 

 His mouth is connected to her neck, breathing a trail of wet kisses up to her ear where he bites down softly on the tip of her earlobe and she lets out a tiny whimper that nearly ends him then and there. 

 Her hands wander under the hem of his long-sleeved shirt and he freezes when she starts to tug the material upward. She senses his apparent discomfort and stops, looking down at him. 

 She’s picked up on the fact that he’s sensitive about the metal arm. “Sorry,” she whispers. “If you don’t want to take it off that’s—“

 He knows he’s ready. He knows it’s time to stop living in fear about what others will think of the hideous seam binding the vibranium to flesh. “No, I do. Just give me a second.”

 He sits up and she shifts off of him, unsure of his next move. It takes her by surprise when he sweeps her off the ground in a single motion, carrying her to the bedroom and placing her carefully on the mattress. His hands go to either side of the hem of his shirt and he tugs it off, standing bare chested before her, his silver dog tags resting against the rise and fall of his heavy breathing. 

 She stares, drinking him all in. The defined muscle. The trail of dark hair leading below the waistband of his underwear. The scars from years of battling ‘the enemy.’ Then finally, his metal arm, the leather glove still secure on his left hand. Jane rises to her knees, taking both of his hands and tugging him closer to which he does not oblige. 

 He wants her desperately. Wants to put his mouth all over her. Wants to hear her say his name. Wants to feel every inch of her on his skin. 

 “May I?” she asks, glancing down, fingers ghosting his skin. He nods and suddenly she’s running her fingers over his chest and her fingers sear, burning him, making him feel more alive than he’s felt in the past 80 years. 

 He allows her to touch every inch of him, noting how she studies the outer workings of his arm in true Jane-fashion, and when she decides to replace her fingers with her lips instead upon reaching the seam of his shoulder and arm, he lets out a moan. James is certain this woman will be the end of him. 

 He loses himself in her in more than one way that night. When she takes him, he begs her to call him ‘Bucky’ because he’s tired of acting like the name of a man he never had been in the first place. 

 He falls asleep that night to the memory of her voice whimpering ‘Bucky,’ ‘Bucky,’ ‘Bucky’ as if it were a prayer on her lips. 

 There are no nightmares. 

 +

 Dr. Raynor comments on his unusual openness at their next session. 

 She doesn’t even have to threaten him with the notebook that day. 

 +

 “Vulnerability is the essence of connection and connection is the essence of existence.” - Leo Christopher 

 +

 Longing. 

Rusted. 

Seventeen.

Daybreak. 

Furnace. 

Nine.

Benign. 

Homecoming.

One. 

Freight car. 

 The string of phrases are weaving their way into his skull and he’s trapped. There’s no escape from their cruel entrapment. He must obey. He was engineered to carry out the missions. No, he doesn’t want to obey. Fight back. Fighting makes it worse. Fighting means pain until he can fight no longer. 

 Obey. Must obey. The mission. See that it’s carried out to completion. No witnesses. No survivors.

 Bucky jolts awake in her bed, beads of sweat pooling across his brow. He’s gasping for breath and everything that’s touching him only makes his heart beat faster. He yanks the blankets off of him and sinks down against the wall facing the bed, trying to take in his surroundings and focus on what’s real. Hydra can no longer control him. He is no longer their puppet. 

 He pulls on the dog tags around his neck, using them as something to stabilize his unstable mind. His eyes slide open and he sees her sitting up in bed, watching him silently, her brow twisted in concern. 

 “Just a bad dream,” he comments quietly, inhaling through his nose, pausing, and exhaling through his mouth. 

 She remains unmoving for a moment. 

 “I get them too. Sometimes it feels like the aether is still inside me. Controlling my mind. Forcing me to bend to its wishes.” He’s only heard bits and pieces of her time on Asgard, Thor and Loki’s home planet. It’s still strange to think about the life that exists beyond Earth. 

 He wants to tell her more about Hydra, but he doesn’t. 

 “Think I’m going to stay down here for a little longer. Is it weird that I find the floor softer than the bed?” 

 “We all have our ways of coping,” she muses with a half smile. 

 He wonders what hers happen to be. 

 +

 They spend many nights together watching the starry sky from his apartment rooftop. Jane sits between his arms, pointing out the major constellations, sharing ancient stories of how they got their names. 

 Bucky listens to her words, her voice, drift through the close space they occupy. His eyes grow heavy with tiredness, his chin resting on the crown of her head. 

 He could listen to her talk about space until the end of time. 

 +

 “Are you ever going to answer him?” Jane inquires casually, settling down beside him on the couch. She grabs a blanket and tosses it over their legs. 

 She doesn’t have to say his name to know whose she’s referring to. His name appears on his phone screen nearly every day. “Maybe,” he responds indifferently. 

 Jane gives him a look that tells him she’s not going to let this one go. “He’s clearly worried about you. How hard would it be just to update him about how things are going?”

 He wants to answer with ‘nearly impossible,’ however he has a feeling she won’t drop it if he lets the words slip.

 “Just think about it, okay?” Jane must have picked up on the fact it was going to be a losing battle. 

 He nods. 

 +

 “You sent the flowers that day in the office, didn’t you?” Her breath catches sharply when he bites down on her inner thigh, then immediately tends to the bite with his lips, moving them closer and closer to his objective. 

 “Yes,” he reveals, that day in the office, far from what he’s currently fixated on. She whimpers his name once he finds his source. 

 +

 He can’t remember the last name he’s felt this angry. Bucky paces back and forth in his apartment, trying to calm down, trying to think rationally. 

 She’s leaving. 

 She’s going back to London. 

 Her work in New York was only temporary and she has no choice but to go home to continue her research with her colleagues. 

 The time he assumed they had left together has vanished. She promises they will keep in touch. She’s only a phone call away. 

 It’s not the same though. 

 It’s not the same.

 +

 “You’ve helped, you know,” she murmurs, nestled cozily in his arms. Her fingers play with his dog tags while he stares at shadows on her ceiling bedroom, trying with all his might to will her to stay if he just never lets her out of his grasp. 

 His eyebrows knit together. “Helped create more problems in your life?” he teases and she retaliates by giving the dog tags a tug. 

 “When I came back to New York, all I wanted was to be able to talk to someone about the shit life has thrown at me. That’s part of the reason I started seeing Dr. Raynor,” she admits, nuzzling deeper into his hold. “You listened and you cared, Bucky. I don’t know what I’m going to do in London without someone who actually gets it.”

 He wonders the same thing. 

 +

 On the day she leaves, he finally decides to text Sam back. 

 She was right. 

 Sam was worried about him. 

 He chooses honesty over the typical response of ‘I’m fine’ for once. 

 I’ve had better days, he writes. He’ll tell Sam more about it when they see each other again. 

 +

 It’s a Thursday afternoon when he sees him sitting in the chair next to her old spot. 

 He’s about his height (Bucky’s taller, of course). Black hair, cut close to his head. Brown eyes. And a smug smile that makes him want to punch it right off his face with his metal fist. 

 Sam rises from his seat and goes in for a hug. “Long time, no see, grandpa,” he jokes, pulling back and poking him in the chest. 

 Bucky rolls his eyes, a grin breaking across his face. “Yeah, yeah. Missed you too,” he says, pushing him away and starting toward the doors. 

 “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do. But it might have to wait until after we take care of business,” Sam states, trailing after him. 

 He wants to protest. Sam’s the last one he wants to talk about the events of the past few months with, but he’s got no one else left. 

 Bucky figures he’ll have to settle for him. 

 For now. 

[musingsofsaturn]

Taking Matters into Her Own Hands

Fandom: Star Trek The Next Generation

Ship: The USS Titan Will Riker/Deanna Troi

Rating: MA for smutty stuffs that I can’t believe I actually wrote

Words: 2,400+

Summary: Much to the suffering of her husband, Deanna Troi-Riker is not a woman who takes kindly to being kept waiting.

Author’s Note: You GUYS I’ve wanted to write something like this for literal years but I was always so shy and embarrassed (you have no idea). Anyway, I’m still shy and embarrassed, but at least I wrote it, which is 90% of the work! If you see this on my blog, please know that I am extremely brave, or extremely drunk. And if you know me irl, GO AWAY PLEASE. Anywho, I’m gonna go try really hard to stop blushing and leave you to read. Hope you like it!

~ Saturn

Deanna checked herself in the mirror one last time. Her hair was styled in the way she knew Will loved it, tied high on her head with long curls cascading around her face and dancing at her collarbones. She had on a silken robe that she’d brought with her from Betazed. The material was sheer, and it was cut to reveal a woman’s curves perfectly. She gave herself a reassuring smile, before turning on her heel and marching to the door between their bedroom and their living space.

Will was sprawled across the sofa, reading something on the PADD. She could sense his concentration, but also recognised that whatever he was looking at wasn’t of any particular importance.

She cleared her throat softly.

He turned towards the sound, and she watched his eyes darken as he drank her in. “Hello,” he greeted her.

His thoughts were always amusing to her in moments like this. Normally he seemed so focused and alert, and she loved that he could lose all that clarity in an instant, just from the sight of her. Well, the sight of her combined with his own imagination, the suggestions of which she allowed herself a moment to enjoy.

Just a moment, though. “Hello.” She matched his suggestive tone, stepping forward into the room. Will sat himself up, placing the PADD on the coffee table as she neared.

“Good nap?” he enquired, referring to the reason she’d gone into their bedroom in the first place. She’d been tired, and overworked, and was feeling all too ready for a rest. As she attempted to fall asleep, however, her mind had drifted to thoughts of the man in the other room, and she couldn’t put the thoughts aside.

“I didn’t take it.” Deftly, she untied the cord from around her waist. “I remembered that there are better ways to relax.”

Deanna’s eyes met Will’s across the coffee table as she pushed the robe off her shoulders and allowed it to drop to the floor.

“Deanna,” he said softly, appreciatively, as he took in his wife’s body, bared to him so willingly. Then he rose, before striding around the table to capture her lips in a loving kiss. “Gods, I adore you.”

A quiet laugh escaped her at his passionate proclamation, as her arms moved around his shoulders, gently slipping a hand under his uniform collar to stroke a fingertip across the skin at the back of his neck. Goosebumps rose at her touch, and she lifted her chin to kiss him again.

“I adore you too, Imzadi.” She pressed her body to his, and he took the hint to allow himself to be pushed backwards, towards the still-open bedroom door.

Will’s sudden groan caused her to stop.

Eyebrow raised, she all but laughed, “Will, I haven’t even touched you.”

“No, it’s just that... Alpha shift starts in a quarter of an hour.”

A slow smile spread across her lips. “We could make that work.” He laughed at that, leaning down to kiss her again. But she knew that this was less lustful, and more affectionate. He was already trying to calm himself down. “I could place you on leave.”

She was only half-joking, but Will let out a laugh at her remark. “I think that would count as an abuse of your position, Counselor.” With that, he carefully untangled himself from her arms, and moved to the replicator. “Two waters,” he instructed. He glanced back to her with an amused smile. “Cold.”

Huffing, Deanna picked up her robe from the floor, dressing herself quickly and tying the cord with an angry grunt, aimed squarely at Will’s back. She knew he got the message; his smile was apologetic as he handed her a cup and gestured for them to sit on the sofa. Juvenile as she knew it was, she couldn’t help but pout slightly as she did so.

“Sorry, I’m disappointed too. But we can do better than a rushed ten minutes, and you know it.”

“You said you had fifteen.” She was playing up her annoyance now, exaggerating it as she understood where he was coming from.

He moved closer to her on the sofa, snaking an arm around her waist before pulling her close to him. “You deserve hours of my undivided attention. And that is exactly what you will get. Later.”

Resigned to her fate of waiting, Deanna took a sip of her water. “We’re grown adults. We can wait a few hours.”

“Looks like you’ll be taking that nap after all.”

~

Once Will had left, Deanna tried to busy herself around their quarters. She rearranged the bookshelves, made the bed, tried to take a nap, remade the bed, asked the computer for inane facts that she really didn’t care about... The distractions weren’t working.

She reached out with her consciousness for the one thing she could think about. Will was bored, and she felt him stir slightly when he recognised her presence in his mind.

Retreating back to her own mind, she sighed to herself. Suddenly she snapped herself to attention. “Deanna Troi-Riker, you are a grown woman. And you do not have to wait for your husband in order to get some relief.”

Moving back to the bedroom, she removed her robe again, casting it to the side with a flourish that was uncalled for, but one she enjoyed doing. After settling herself in the centre of the bed (who was there to leave room for, after all?) she reached for the bottle of Betezoid lubricant on the nightstand, using her other hand to caress her breast.

As she splayed her hand over her flesh, before using her fingertips to gently pinch at her nipple, she realised she was trying to replicate the things Will did with his hands that she enjoyed. And with that realisation, she had a wicked thought.

~

He felt her presence pressing at the edge of his consciousness once more, and tried to project a loving welcome as he let her into his mind.

Of course, he was never going to be an Empath, but the Imzadi connection between him and his wife was strong enough for them to communicate like this, projecting feelings, thoughts, and words between them.

At first, this connection seemed like his wife innocently checking up on him, as they frequently did throughout the day. But as he relaxed to her presence in his mind more and more, he recognised that she was projecting certain feelings that he was only used to getting from her in a more private space.

She wasn’t, was she?

He let out a small gasp as he realised what she was doing, quickly stifling it in his sleeve as he pretended to cough. He sensed her amusement.

She projected the sensations into his mind, letting him practically feel her pleasure with her. He felt as a gentle fingertip circled her clit, teasing herself in a way that made his chest tighten.

‘I wish you were here.’ Her voice drifted to him. Helpless to her, he concentrated on echoing the sentiment back to her. All he wanted to do in that moment was replace her fingers with his own, allow her to relax and surrender to the pleasure he could give her.

He felt her pleasure deepen as she pressed her finger to her clit, applying pressure that was enough to send subtle tremors throughout her body. Will concentrated very hard on not letting out a groan right there on the Bridge.

Deanna’s laugh felt like molten gold as he heard it echo inside his head. ‘Are you regretting leaving yet?’

‘I regretted it the instant I set foot out the door.’ It took a lot of focus for him to project full sentences to her, but he could do it. And he knew that she’d understood him when he could sense her smug satisfaction. ‘You’re an evil woman, Deanna Troi-Riker.’

Her smugness only grew at that comment. ‘Only to you, Imzadi.’ Through their connection, he felt her hand continue stroking her clit lightly, while the other moved to lightly pinch and twist at one of her nipples. ‘Why does this feel so much better when you do it?’

The stroke to his ego didn’t go unnoticed, and he knew that she could feel just how aroused he was by her teasing. His arousal only grew when she ceased her actions, only to slowly press a finger inside herself. She was wet, he knew that much, and her eyes were closed so she could focus only on how good she felt.

Will felt his tension as she added another finger, and quietly tried to rearrange his features into a more neutral expression. One that didn’t scream: ‘My Wife is Finger-Fucking Herself Right Now and Telepathically Inviting Me Along for the Ride’. He wasn’t sure if he was entirely successful.

With a ‘come hither’ motion of her fingers, he sensed as she arched her back off the mattress. If he’d been there, he’d have been able to take in just how gorgeous she looked. He would have heard her beautiful sounds; her breathy moans, her whimpers and whispers of his name. He could have captured her lips with his own, being as rough and as commanding as he liked because he knew that she could take it.

‘Mm, sounds lovely.’ His thoughts must have been clearer than he realised. ‘But you’re not here. You had the opportunity, and you refused me. Now look where we ended up.’

Juxtaposing the not-so-subtle dig that her words suggested, there was a warmth surrounding their delivery into his mind. He knew that Deanna had already forgiven him within seconds of his refusal, and he also knew that she was very much enjoying ‘where they’d ended up’.

If there was one thing William Riker knew about Deanna Troi, it was that she loved to tease him. It rivalled her love of chocolate, rivalled the pleasure she could give herself physically as her thumb moved to stroke her clit in time with her fingers sliding in and out of her own wet heat.

She would use outfits to capture his attention, adding an elegant sway to her hips that was meant just for him. Her hand would go to her face, drawing his gaze to her dark eyes, or her soft lips. She would make a double-entendre in conversation, glancing her eyes to his to show that she was deliberately turning his thoughts to exactly what she intended.

And when she had him alone, she would tease him with her hands and lips, avoiding everywhere on his body that he wanted her to go right until he thought he might burst. She’d bring him to the edge and then deny him his release, just because she could. She would set the pace to whatever suited her, and he would just have to give in to it - no matter how hard he begged for her to slow down or to give him more, goddammit.

She did all of this and more to drive him wild, and yet he found that he was surprised to be held hostage in his own mind by the woman he loved. Deanna had found yet another depraved way to torture him with her patient teases.

As he felt her pleasure mounting, her thoughts becoming less coherent by the second, Will realised just how much trouble he would be in if he couldn’t get himself back under control. He was on the Bridge, and he was the Captain, no less.

‘Deanna, I really need you to stop this.’ He wondered if he sounded as pleading in her head as he imagined he would have if he’d said it out loud.

Her amusement was palpable; he could almost taste it on his tongue. ‘I know you do. But I’m enjoying myself a bit too much, Imzadi. I’m not sure I can let you go just yet.’

That white hot laugh that he loved and cursed in equal measure entered his mind again as he glanced down at where he was straining against his uniform. ‘Deanna, please-’

She was close, so close, as he sensed her thought: ‘I’ll stop if you order me to.’

Using all of the self control he could muster, Will suppressed the groan that threatened to escape his mouth. Just. ‘Counselor, I order you to stop this.’

‘Yes, sir.’

And just like that, her presence within his mind slipped away. He didn’t need it to know that her fingers would be working away furiously, as her back arched and she threw her head back, moaning his name in the most delicious way he’d ever heard it.

Her climax would send shockwaves of pleasure through her, causing her to grow tense, then shudder, then squirm as it continued. That was a sight that Will Riker knew well, and it was his favourite sight in the universe. He didn’t need a telepathic connection to imagine exactly what he was missing out on in that moment.

Saved from what could have been an extremely awkward situation for everyone on the Bridge, Will closed his eyes briefly and allowed himself a few deep breaths. He tried not to focus on just how easily he could have climaxed himself just from hearing her call him ‘Sir’. It was even more arousing to realise that she must have recognised how it had affected him, that she knew that her use of that word was enough to make his cock twitch and his palms grow sweaty.

Slowly, much more slowly than he would ever have admitted, he shook away what he could of what had just happened, gradually allowing his focus to recentre on, oh, captaining the Titan?

~

Later, Deanna was perched on the sofa, quietly reading a book. She knew exactly what time it was (having checked every ten minutes for the past hour), and she was listening for the telltale whisper of the door to their shared quarters opening.

When it opened, she glanced up from the book, meeting Will’s gaze, red hot, where he stood in the doorway.

“Hello,” she greeted him innocently.

Shaking his head lightly, he stepped into the room. “Computer, lock door.” As he kicked off his shoes, striding towards her, she stood up, knowing just how smug her expression must have looked. “You... you are-”

“Evil?” she suggested, a self-satisfied grin spreading across her face.

His hands went to her waist, pulling her to him roughly as he kissed her. Pulling way only briefly, she felt his breath on her lips as he whispered hotly, “Bedroom. Now.”

With her teeth, she nipped gently at his bottom lip, before pulling away to lock her eyes with his.

“Yes, Sir.”

[mordellestories]

Give a Beetle a Bone

It was a fucking disaster, is what it was! It wasn't like Betelgeuse's plans had never gone to shit, quite the opposite; his plans ALWAYS went to shit in some way or another, but this time? This time took the fucking cake ! Getting eaten by a sandworm just moments away from being free as a bat at dusk, now that's a story to tell the grandkids–wherever the fuck those little turds were. How could this be the end? How could he have gotten so close, only to come out of the other end of a giant, very satisfied, striped asshole? At least one of them enjoyed themselves. He shuddered at the memory of being squeezed right out into a steaming mountain of sandworm shit.

What was he supposed to do now? Wait his turn with the other deadbeats in waiting room 8, just to get bitched out by the cunt-of-an-ex-boss? Again?! No. No freaking way. This was it. This was the last straw that broke the corpses back, and Betelgeuse was ready to go to war .

The riled up poltergeist shot out of his chair, still in tatters from his meet and greet with the jaws and intestines of that legless, enthusiastic fucker on Saturn. (The beast actually took a liking to Betelgeuse once he was out. Must have grazed the thing’s sweet spot or some shit.)

"I'm not gonna stand for this," Betelgeuse said with righteous determination while standing. "I'm the ghost with the most!" He beat his chest with an angry fist and stomped his foot on the ground. "I do what I want when I want, and none of you dupes can do a thing about it!"

"You!" Miss Argentina shouted from the reception. "I can hit this big red button right here and send you right back to where you came from if you like," she grinned wickedly.

Betelgeuse held up his hands in surrender. "Woah! Not necessary, babe," he winked, exposing his grimy overbite. "I'm just gonna hit the john, maybe have some grub, and I'll be right back." He chuckled slowly and dangerously, placing his hand to his chest and straightening. "Cross my heart and hope to live," he cackled wildly and popped into the midplane between life and death. Time to pay up, betrothed. His shrieking laughter rang through time and space as he zeroed in on his target.

He landed in a darkroom. It took a few moments to realize he was trapped in a negative hung to dry.

"You ruin my art, and I'll ruin your afterlife," droned a familiar feminine voice from afar.

Betelgeuse craned his neck every which way to catch a glimpse of the snot-nosed, betraying, little shit. The backstabbing kid was gonna feel his wrath from here to kingdom come– HOLY HANGIN' GEMSTONES BELOW!

A slim form was hunched over a table, examining her work with a Buddhist monk's calm and concentration—jet black hair pulled up in a messy bun, chocolate eyes, moonlight pale skin, and grown up in every way that counted in his books!

Mother o' pearl, look at those tits!

"Yowzers!" Betelgeuse let out, followed by a sharp whistle. "How long was I in that literal shithole," he grumbled and scratched his head, utterly confounded.

"Eighteen years," Lydia replied dryly, not sparing a glance in the poltergeist's way, making Betelgeuse feel entirely insignificant.

It was insulting. It was infuriating. It was-it was-it was... It was a massive turn on , and Betelgeuse was instantaneously stiff in more ways than one.

He leered in her direction, even though she was still ignoring him, and scanned her top to toes again, shaking his head in bewilderment. Betelgeuse hummed with approval. "May I just say, you're lookin' like a beetle on a cracker ta me right now, babe. Ya sure as hell didn't get your pop's looks, thank my lucky stars," he mumbled the rest.

Lydia arched a brow, the only sign she had heard him at all.

Lordy-lord! That stoic, unperturbed, porcelain face was making him itch in all the right places.

"I wondered when you'd have the stones to come back," Lydia murmured absentmindedly.

Oh, this bitch was messing with the wrong dead man. "Is that right," he drawled with a sneer. "Well, honeybun, your wait is over. Time to ta hold up your end of our deal."

Lydia scoffed with the tiniest smile, her complete amused disregard for the poltergeist going straight to his dick.

Look at me, look at me, look at me! Betelgeuse shook himself and tried to sound as menacing as possible and not like he wanted to grovel at her feet and beg her to scratch his head like the flea-infested dog he was. "Sweetums," he warned, "I think you remember what I'm capable of–hard to forget, I'm sure. I'd watch yourself if I were you."

This time, Lydia did turn her gaze up to meet the ghost, but the look on her face was far from frightened. There was a wicked glint in her hooded eyes, but the rest her face remained as impassive as ever. "What are you going to do? Summon a merry-go-round and a jumping mice circus? Dress as a clown? Oh, wait," her brow furrowed slightly, "you're already in costume."

Oh my god... Cupid had aimed a long-range missile right between his legs and shot his cock up to the heavens that didn't exist a moment ago.

Betelgeuse actually needed to swallow for the first time since he'd keeled over. His jaw was slack, and his eyes were bugged out. He needed to get this shit under control, or he was gonna roll over and let his tongue loll out of his panting, rabid mouth. He cleared his throat and adjusted the lapels of his ruined wedding tux.

Lydia had the decency to keep eye contact, but it unnerved him, and that was just insane. "Listen, kid, uh, woman, uh, pretty lady," he stammered, "I bent the laws of nature for you, saved your friends, scared your folks straight, I'm due some compensation, okay?" Betelgeuse couldn't get over sounding like a handyman being gypped out of his hard-earned cash by an unsatisfied customer. "We made a deal," he all but whined.

The medium raised a single brow and smirked, giving Betelgeuse her undivided but callous attention. "Poor Betelgeuse," she cooed.

The ghost could not suppress the electric sparks from shooting out of his ears at the sound of his name on those pretty pink lips.

"Oh, baby ," Betelgeuse drawled, desire gripping onto his sanity and wringing it out like an old dishrag. "Two more times, and I'm yours," he breathed with manic, pleading eyes. "I'll do anything, and I mean... anything," he pronounced while whipping his arms open to make it abundantly clear.

Betelgeuse could feel Lydia's eyes appraising him, and he was suddenly, painfully aware that he looked like he'd been chewed and shat out of a Saturn giant. She was looking at him like he was a bug–and not in a good way.

"Anything?"

Betelgeuse latched onto the intrigue like a lifeline, because that's exactly what it was! "Anything," he swore and knew he'd follow through because-holy shit-she was gorgeous. To prove his point, he blinked a bouquet of roses into Lydia's arms.

Surprise registered on Lydia's face and then a smile, and fuck, he felt like she'd given him a treat for being a good boy.

"Cute," she deadpanned and let the flowers drop to the floor, "but cliche."

Betelgeuse snapped his fingers, a box of chocolates manifested next, which Lydia snorted at.

A wave of his hand brought a generous shower of jewels and gems.

She rolled her eyes.

Betelgeuse snarled. "Aw, c'mon! Waddya want?! Dresses?" All manner of old fashioned gowns fell onto Lydia's lap. "Just say the word, and it's yours."

Lydia seemed somewhat pleased with the wardrobe above everything else, but it still wasn't the reaction any other woman would have had. Hell's bells, this woman was hard to please! He hit all the staples, didn't he? What else could a chick want?!

"Hmm," the stoic beauty hummed and shrugged, "I dunno, Betelgeuse ."

"One more B-word, snookums," the ghost pleaded.

She sighed dramatically. "I'm not very impressed, and I honestly have everything I've ever set my mind to," she looked at her nails and then dead in his eyes. "Except..."

Betelgeuse pressed his face up against the photo's barrier, squishing his crooked nose and fogging up the image. "Tell me," he purred, fire igniting every cold bit of his soul.

"You."

Betelgeuse let out a high-pitched wheeze and shot a hand to his dead heart. "Me?! Fuck, babe, ya got me! Hook, line, and sinker! Let me outta here!" He clawed at his prison and whimpered.

Lydia's grin was downright evil, and the ghost shook in his boots. "I'm not going to marry you," she clarified. Betelgeuse deflated but waited for her to continue. "But, I'll let you out every once in a while if you're a good boy."

Good boy. "Want me ta be good? I'll be good for ya. I'll sprout wings and a halo for you, babes."

"I don't think you understand," Lydia chuckled and shook her head, bemused. "I'll own your soul, you'll be my errand boy for all of my whims, and I decide if and when you get to come out to play."

"Yes." Betelgeuse had said it without hesitation, and no follow-up.  

Lydia's eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. "You can't be serious," she narrowed her eyes. "I'm offering you scraps!"

Upon snapping his fingers again, Betelgeuse's ears grew and flopped over, a tail sprouted out of his ass crack, and a collar with the name Lydia in big neon green letters wrapped around his neck.

"As long as those scraps come from your table, Lyds, I'll sit, rollover, and even play dead for ya." He grinned wide, let his tongue roll out past his chin as he panted, and let out a needy bark.

It was obviously the right thing to do because the passive woman burst out laughing. It was music to Betelgeuse's new doggie ears. He was so in trouble.

"Okay," she let out on a breathy giggle. "Then we got a deal... Betelgeuse ."

The ghost cackled and cheered. "Aw, yeah! It's showtime, babes!"

Mordelle on Ao3

[crazyfreckledginger]

Dick Grayson x Reader - “Just Take A Deep Breath For Me, Baby!”

Your boyfriend helps you through a panic attack, but something unexpected happens that would also require Bruce’s help.

Requested by @the-snake-and-the-rose​: “Dick graysom x reader where reader is going through struggling with anxeity which unlocks a new power (lol sorry that was so random)”

"Deep breathes deep breathes deep breathes," (Y/N) muttered as she hugged his arm.

"You'll do fine baby okay? Just a few hours, we'll meet my family at the Gala and we can stay in another, less crowded room if you want. We'll only stay a few hours," Dick turned to her, cupping her cheek and kissing her lips swiftly. The girl nodded quickly, releasing a shaky breath. 

"Have I told you how beautiful you look in that?" A dream sigh escaped his smiling lips as he pulled her waist into him. The girl blushed, looking down to the ground with a shy smile.

"Yes, you have," She chuckled softly, placing her hands against his chest to capture his lips. He smiled in the kiss, squeezing her hip. 

"We should get going, we don't want to be late if Bruce gives a speech," He informed, gazing at his watch.

"Oh my god, you're right!" She gasped, holding his hand and pulling him through the driveway and up the stairs. Before Dick could even knock, the door opened widely.

"Master Dick!" Alfred greeted with a huge smile, "Miss (Y/N), how lovely to have you with us again!" 

"Thank you, Alfred," Dick offered him a toothy grin. 

"I'll make sure to tell you when you can leave early," The butler nodded.

"Thank you so so much, Alfred!" The (H/C)-haired girl thanked him continually. The cop had to pull his girl by the waist to peel her away from the old man. As soon as they were in the next room, however, she clung onto his arm like a koala.

"I've had enough now, let's go home," She squeaked, scanning upon the large crowd. 

"Baby, no," He chuckled, pulling her back in his embrace.

"Dick stop," She squealed as her body was dragged through the hugely decorated hallway cluttered with people. The girl buried her face in his shoulder as he held her close, pulling her to the drink, where there were a lot fewer people.

"Happy that's over," She breathed out as he sat her down at a table and slid on a chair beside her. Her hand intertwined with his as he offered her a small grin as she shuffled closer, frowning at him in curiosity.

"I'm not, I liked it how you hogged onto me for dear life," He grinned playfully at her.

"Stop," She chuckled, kissing his cheek. Their little banter was cut short by hurried footsteps coming up from behind them. They looked back, Dick's eyes widening at the stamped stomping in their direction.

"(Y/N)!" Tim greeted with open arms. The girl in question stood up, smiling widely as she engulfed him in a hug.

"Timmy, how are you?" She inquired, pulling away from him.

"I'm tired and bored, how are you?" He asked in the same tone.

"Hi tired and bored, I'm D-" 

"Baby don't!" (Y/N) placed her finger against her boyfriend's lips to shush him from any bad puns that she secretly loved that would erase the little dignity he had left among his brothers.

"Hey beautiful," Jason muttered, ignoring the lovey-dovey feeling between her and his brother to hug his friend.

"Hey Jason, I missed you!" She mumbled in his shoulder.

After greeting all his brothers, they all sat down at the table, speaking and laughing, (Y/N) closely against Dick's chest as the girl ran a hand through the youngest pouty Wayne's hair. 

"I'm bored," Jason grumbled as they all watched the many people dancing.

"You guys haven't danced," Tim informed, raising a questioning eyebrow at the couple. Dick could feel the girl tense up in his hold.

"I-uh," 

"Crowds give me anxiety" He interrupted her. Damian's eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

"I'll take you (Y/N), if you want, I'm bored out of my skull," Jason proposed, nodding to the pair. 

"N-no, I-I um, I'm tired, sorry!" She laughed nervously, squeezing her boyfriend's hand out of gratefulness for his previous action. 

The group had been sat at the table for just over an hour. It was nearly 9 pm and the dancing area was nearly empty.

"Want to dance baby?" His voice whispered against his ear, sending light shivers through her neck as it caressed it.

"Yes," She nodded.

Immediately, Dick stood up, smoothening his tie and making sure his suit was not creased before extending his arm out to her. Jason was on his phone now, as was Tim. Damian was awkwardly leaning on the table asleep. 

The girl gladly took his hand as she was gracefully lifted off her seat and accompanied to the middle of the magnificent room. (Y/N) leaned into her boyfriend's chest, holding his hand and placing her other one on his shoulder as his spare hand slid around her waist.

"Do you want to leave after this dance? Alfred said we could leave just after nine o'clock," He mumbled, placing his lips against her forehead. She hummed lowly, closing her eyes as she let Dick lead. It felt like a while before the music changed and a lot more people flooded in. The girl didn't realise though, her eyes were still closed, her face nuzzled in Nightwing's neck.

"Baby, we should move," The man insisted.

"What? why-" Her eyes opened and she gasped, her grip tightened on his shoulder as she felt her heartbeat increase as well as her breathing.

"Remember what we said babe, deep breathes," He tried to reassure her, scanning around to search for an exit. She closed her eyes, trying to take deep breaths above her ragged ones, she found herself hugging Dick tightly, burying her face in his chest, hoping the sense of suffocation would vanish as she respired his scent.

It wasn't working.

"Dick, p-please," She choked out, feeling incredibly overwhelmed.

"Five planets babe, tell them to me repeatedly," He ordered, holding her close as they marched through the dense crowd.

"Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, Venus, Uranus, Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, Venus, Uranus," She repeated under her breath. The girl shrunk in his chest, feeling like there were too many eyes on her. Her head started feeling fuzzy as Dick pushed through the crowd into another, empty room.

"Baby," He cooed, backing her up into the wall, cupping her cheeks and trying to lock eyes with her. She stared at the ground, breathing heavily, her movements jittery as she tried to calm down.

"S-space, p-please," She begged between gasps. 

"Yes, sorry," He mumbled, slowly letting her go and moving a feet or two away from her, hands extended towards her in case she needed the support. She slid down the wall, sitting on the floor. 

Her hands rested on either side of her, eyes glazed over. His eyebrows furrowed as he smelled smoke. Eyes widened as he distinguished the melting floor around her hands as they glowed an intense orange colour. 

He kneeled as well, maintaining the distance between them, keeping a careful eye on her. Soon, she calmed down, running a shaky hand through her hair as she averted his gaze. Dick crawled to her, pulling her into his chest, caressing her flushed cheek as she nuzzled his neck.

"What was that?" He whispered.

"What?" She asked, with a croaked voice. Pulling away from him lightly to stare at him.

"That," He pointed to the floor behind her. She turned around, gasping as her eyes landed on the burned floor.

"I did that?" The girl muttered.

"Yes." He nodded, running a hand through her hair, "let's call Bruce, see what happened."

"Does that make me a superhero too?" She asked, trying to reassure herself.

"Maybe baby, but you were always a superhero in my eyes," A small smile appeared on his lips.

"Why?" 

"Because anxiety doesn't let you do what you want easily -- and the fact that you still live life despite it makes you a true hero!" He explained, giving her an admiring look.

"Really? Y-you, don't think I'm weak?" She whispered, tensing in his hold. His thumb grazed her cheek.

"No, it makes you stronger -- than any of us!" His lips found hers as soon as he said that. He pulled her into his lap, kissing her hungrily as she slid her arms around his neck.

"What's going on here?" A loud voice echoed, making the couple jump out of their skin as they blushed profusely.

"Bruce," Dick cleared his throat, "we have a problem!"

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[mutable-manifestation]

Part 8! (Day 7 continued)

***

The further they travel the more it seems like the Far Frozen was just really isolated….

Far is in the name. Jason. Feels a bit ridiculous to be just now realizing that.

Only maybe an hour of traveling (which feels like more traveling than it took to get there?) in and The Green (TM) is full of floating doors and islands in a variety of shapes and patterns (though mostly purple in color, unless the island had plantlife. It seemed dirt was purple here.)

They pass three enormous jungle islands and at least 2 surprisingly modern-looking cities - with, of course, a heavy green/purple theme to them. And surprisingly gothic architecture.

Maybe Jason was just biased, having the Far Frozen as a baseline.

Another hour later they approach something that is. Definitively a castle.

The island the castle sits on is thrice the size of any other he's seen. From a distance he can see three distinct sections - almost like a pie chart cut in thirds if it were more circular.

The side they are approaching first is lush with plant-life. It is clearly maintained and Jason can see paths and sitting areas carved out of it, but overall that section looks like something straight out of Poison Ivy's idea of heaven.

The centerpiece of the section is a part of the castle itself: a massive tree composed a tower to what appeared to be the front-right of the castle. The bark of the tree was a void-like black and its leaves a soft lavender. Intricate doors and windows made it clear that it was lived in, but still somehow healthy. Its lush branches curled along one side of the castle.

A tower on the left side of the castle appeared to be the centerpiece of another third of the island.

Its section was marked by sand and an assortment of stone pillars that had vein-like silver structures running through them. In the very center of the pillars Jason could just see what looked like an oasis.

The tower itself is sleek and rectangular, topped off by a pyramid. The whole thing is black and accented with silver that stretches up and twists around the whole thing in a circuit board-like pattern.

The rest of the castle is black with green accents and icy spires leading all the way around the back of it, where the final tower lay.

The final section was yet another, more familiar extreme of nature: snow.

It reminded him of the Far Frozen; from the uneven snow-dunes to the small collection of hills he could just barely see past the building.

Its tower, like the other two, had black as its base color. It had a crystalline sheen to it that made him think of ice, and blue-ice structures wrapped around it in a shape reminiscent of the pillars of creation. Atop it sat a green flame.

Once they pass through some unseen barrier Jason is even more in awe; inside the island’s environment he can’t see The Green anymore.

Instead, the view from the island shows space.

The great rings of Saturn swirl overhead, closer and more detailed than they could ever seem from Earth without a telescope or an artist's mind and canvas.

Instead of stars twinkling in the sky it’s galaxies, clear and bright and technicolor spirals and bubbles and ovals.

It steals his breath away.

Phantom stops to let him admire it; even hovering above the island he doesn’t let go of Jason’s hand.

"I can teach you about them later, if you like," Phantom begins after a minute's silence, "But first we should get you settled in. Spike has been itching for feedback."

That doesn't sound like going home to Jason's ears. But by now he has thoroughly no idea how to get home. He allows himself to be pulled down to the doorstep of the castle.

Phantom walks through the front door like he owns the place, letting go of Jason once the door is safely closed behind them.

Inside the building is still fancy but less....themed. Than the outside had been; simple marble floors and light grey walls.

Phantom pulls a phone out of absolutely nowhere and shoots off a text he can't see.

Jason's comms hadn't worked when he'd still had them (When he'd still had his body).

(Am I even still Jason?)

His phone hadn't worked either.

They wind through three hallways and up a staircase before finally entering a room.

-------

Some explanations: where does Danny's stuff go when he transforms? it's pocket space. He figured out how to dump and retrieve at like age 70.

Currently all of Jason's stuff is in his own pocket space, he does not know how to get it back (or that he can).

(Danny is 114 chronologically and 100 in ghost years, which is the only things ghost really count.)

Sam and Tucker are both 97 in ghost years after they died in one of Vlad's traps - there was a lot of ectoplasm so they became ghosts immediately but Danny was pissed.

Not Phantom Planet compliant for the obvious reasons but Vlad still got space'd because Danny chased him off planet while threatening to rip his core out of his chest and grind it to dust between his teeth before dropping the remains in the nearest black hole and Vlad decided he rather like being not on Earth, thanks.

Yes this is everlasting trio.

Sam has a plant core, like Undergrowth but she's the Ghost Queen. So.

Tucker has a silica core (sand and tech ayyy) and is Ghost King 2: electric boogaloo. He chose the name. That's his official title. The observants hate it. Danny and Sam won't stop laughing at them when they try to complain about it because it just reminds them about it and then the entire meeting is wasted.

(Danny is The Ghost King. He might've tried to add a funny title once but Frostbite went on a spiel about sacred duty and honor and respect and decorum and it basically all summed up to "this will make Frostbite sad" as far as Danny was concerned so he decided against it).

Danny told his parents about being a halfa at 16 and everything worked out fine. Part of the conversation included the fact that they themselves will be ghosts due to the *gestures at the entire house.*

Jack and Maddie are 64 and 62 in ghost years, respectively. They work with Skulker to hunt down endangered species (either to be protected where they are or relocated for conservation. Danny made a lot of changes as ghost king and the new job made Skulker really happy. Jack, Maddie, Skulker work together and get along surprisingly well).

Valerie is like 20 in ghost years. She lived a long life. She'll probably join Skulker and the Fenton parents' work eventually but for now she's enjoying an extended retirement in her door-lair.

Who is Spike? That character from the early episodes Jazz talked to.

HC they were friends and her encouraging him to open up to his parents was friend stuff and not her treating him like a psychology experiment (at least, not beyond the level friends usually do).

Spike did open up to his parents about wanting to go to art school. He had a very successful career. Jazz asked Spike out in college and their third date was to the Ghost Zone bc she knew he'd love the aesthetic. He did indeed.

Being a Casper High teen he was already slightly ecto-contaminated. Regularly interacting with Liminal Jazz and her Green Soup Diet led him to Liminality and pretty much guaranteed he'd be a ghost.

Upon his death Spike promptly asked Danny if he could be the royal interior designer, to which Danny obviously accepted.

Spike and Jazz are 44 and 41 in ghost years.

Spike has a color core: he controls colors. Leave em floating in the air. Change a wall from blue to brown. Have a pattern bloom from his fingertips. Etc.

Jazz has a psychic core. She's anti-Spectra. She can feed on happy if she wants to, which entails making people more happy. But she mostly just makes people happy because she likes to (psychology is a much needed resource in the Infinite Realms and Jazz is currently growing a formal department as a resource for the Zone. She even hired Spectra as intake. As a "You can feed on the misery they already have when they first arrive and evaluate them but if you try to make them worse on purpose it's jail." type of thing)

Wes Weston is 38 in ghost years and works with Jazz's department. He specializes in gaslighting recognition and recovery. Yes he's still a little salty about Danny.

You know how whenever we see Danny accidentally kidnap Jason, he immediately explains what’s going on? What if Danny forgets to do that and leaves Jason wondering what the fuck is going on. Like usually Jason is in the know and the BatFam has to figure it out themselves, what if nobody knows what’s going on, not even Danny to an extent. Imagine Danny thinking someone else told Jason what’s going on because the sickly child ghost isn’t outwardly panicking/attacking anymore, and the only way Jason is getting any information on why this is going on is through Danny casually mentioning it in conversation and Danny isn’t even talking to him most of the time. Jason only knows one thing for certain, his weapons and attacks don’t work on them.

(Danny takes Jason to the Ghost Zone, unknowingly adopts him and leaves; Jason is in a horror mystery detective game and is thAT HIS ROBIN COSTUME ON HIM; and nobody knows where Jason is, his last known location was in Crime Alley)

[ussarchangel]

The Adoration of Michael

Star Trek Discovery modern AU

Modern AU: Michael Burnham is used to taking care of herself, but when a handsome stranger rescues her from a heckler at a lecture it may be the start of a new chapter in her life.

Chapter 4: Date the 1st, 2nd Half

rating: Mature

characters/pairings: Michael Burnham, Gabriel Lorca, Michael Burnham/Gabriel Lorca

chapter summary:Date, the first

warnings: swearing

Michel laughed and surveyed the the people waiting for the Doane Observatory telescope. There were still a few people ahead of them in the loosely scattered line.

"That was pretty funny." She said touching his arm. "Tell another."

"Let me think a moment."

After finishing dinner the pair had walked the short distance from the planetarium's main building to Doane Observatory sitting right at the water's edge. A crowd of loosely scattered people lingered in the observatory waiting to use the telescope. The staff, a few younger people in blue t-shirts and polos, moved about explaining the telescope and what they could expect to see tonight.

The Doane Observatory housed the largest and most accurate aperture telescope open to the public in the midwest. The building was a small circle, built around a telescope, the floor covered with cheap gray carpet and the walls a dull beige. Photos of various outer space phenomena like the Horsehead Nebula and the Whirlpool Galaxy and the Leo triplets decorated the walls. At the center of the building was a big white telescope.

"Alright, I've got another one for you." The amusement in his face was clear and Michael, already amused, smiled in anticipation.

"So this actually happened to me."

"We had just got sent to bed about an hour ago. I'm wide awake and staring at ceiling cause it's still first phase I'm afraid to move from the position of attention-"

"-Wait you were at attention in bed?" Michael could barely keep from laughing as she tried to imagine a younger, scared Gabriel in his bed at attention.

"Yes I was, I had heard a lot about how TI's especially liked to pick on officers in basic."

"Okay."

"So I hear the Drill Instructor hatch open and I look over -and there's not a lotta light, just the light from the hall- and all I see is his pointy cover stick out of the door, about a foot off the ground. The TI is low crawling on the floor, straight for me, like some kinda big, angry, bald spider, skittering across the floor."

"Oh my god." Michael pressed her fingertips to her lips to hold back laughter.

"So I'm looking around now to see if anyone else is reacting to this, they aren't. So he comes straight to me and I'm staring at the ceiling again, my rack starts to sink from his weight. He gets right up in my face whispers in my ear:

'Hey Lorca, wake up.'

-"And I just look at him, cause he knew I was awake right?'-

"Y-yes sir?"

"Fuck you Lorca. Goodnight bitch."

She started laughing on the word "bitch" unable to hold it in any longer.

"So I say the only thing I can: "Aye sir. Good night sir"

He then climbed down and low crawled back to this room and slammed the door.

Michael let out another peal of laughter and Gabriel's laugh, a warm rich chuckle, joined hers.

"God, were they just ridiculous on purpose?"

"Actually, yeah, a TI told me that once, after I'd been a captain for a few years. They want trainees to believe they'll do just about anything so they just pull the most ridiculous pranks and trust me, you believe."

His expression was so emphatic that Michael found herself laughing again. He smiled indulgently, eyes crinkling at the corners in the most charming way.

"I'm just glad my suffering amuses you."

"It did, but any more and it will ruin my eye makeup."

"For the sake of your eye make-up then, no more stories."

"Thank you."

The person who'd been using the telescope climbed down the ladder and a tall, light-skinned young woman, wearing a staff t-shirt, and short dark hair climbed up the ladder.

Conversation fell silent as she started speaking.

"Hi everyone my name is Christine. Tonight, stargazers, you're in for a real treat. Earth is in a perfect position to see Saturn, its rings and moons close and clear. In addition to the full moon there is also a comet passing through Saturn's orbit. Like most comets, the tail of this one is made of rock and ice, however this particular rock is an usual shade of red casting a an orange glow on the gas giant so we're getting quite a show. The comet itself has moved out of range of the scope, but you can still see the effect of it passing through Saturn's orbit."

The young woman climbed down and let the next viewer go up.

"You know, it really seems like you loved it, why did you leave it?"

Gabriel stroked his beard while considering his answer and Michael's eyes followed the movement.

Perhaps it was because her father had often had a beard, but well-groomed facial hair on a man always appealed to her. It made a man look like, well,a Man, grown, mature, adult, at least to her. Gabriel's was trim, tidy, well cared for, nice and full. She found herself wondering if it was soft.

"The navy may have been my life for twenty years - a lot of folks thought I should stay with it until retirement age - but I suddenly wanted to join the landlubbers."

He met her eyes then.

"When I was a kid, I was excited about the travel, the ships, the camaraderie, but I lost that somewhere along the way," he shrugged. "Since I didn't have to stay, I decided to get out do something else with my life."

"Like photography?"

He nodded.

"That, work in the civilian sector, live someplace for more than a year. Do what I want? Sleep in?"

"Do you, do what you want?"

"Ha, I still get up at five in the morning, take Buran out for a run, jog."

"I love running, it's a great way to keep fit, start the day off right. It certainly looks like it pays off."

It did. He may have been out of the service for nearly a year now, but he was still lean and fit. Michael could see that even in his white linen suit. His shoulders were nice and broad, waist tapered. He looked good, the blue button-down he wore under his jacket bringing out the clear blue of his eyes.

Gabriel smiled, eyebrows arching, clearly surprised and pleased at the compliment.

"Well thank you."

"You're welcome, you should come running with us one morning."

"Us?"

"Naval buddy Hugh and Buran."

"Sure, might be fun." Michael liked to go for her runs by herself, it helped her to think and feel focused. Still, she might enjoy Gabriel's company some mornings.

Just then, the person at the main scope finished, and it was their turn to view the night's main event.

The landing for the telescope was just large enough for one person. When the person ahead of them finished Christine motioned for them to take their turn.

"Ladies first," Gabriel insisted.

"Thank you." Michael looked at the other young  woman. "Do I need to do anything?"

"Nope, just look through there."

She peered through the telescope and her breath caught. The normally colorless Saturn seemed to glow a bright orange, the light of the comet coloring its many moons, and suffusing the rings with their own glow. It reminded her of one of those atom structure models brought to life in breathtaking fiery 3D.

For a long moment, she just stared at the planet picking out the lines of demarcation in its bands as the red-gold glow of it seeped into her memories.

"It's beautiful," Michael said we she finally looked up from the telescope.   How did one ever let forget that the universe held wonders like this?

"I think this has to be the most fun I've ever had on a first date," Michael said.

"The most?"

He grinned and looked away, and Michael wondered if he weren't perhaps blushing a bit.

"I must admit I had some reservations, especially when you showed up looking like such a knock-out."

"Why?"

"Shallow of me, I guess," Gabriel said holding the door for her. "But when you showed up I thought to myself, ‘pretty girls don't want to look at telescopes.’"

They stepped out into the night,  exiting onto the far side of the circular building and at the farthest point from the street the planetarium sat on, but just a few feet from the water's edge.

"Should we go out the other side, back towards the planetarium and the street?"

"No," Michael said looking out over Lake Michigan. The surface of the lake was black with night but the moonlight fell upon it like rippling waves of molten silver.

"I have to work tomorrow, but it’s still fairly early. I'm in no rush; it's a beautiful night. Let's take the long way around."

Michael pointed to the concrete path that circled the building and the shallow steps that allowed one to walk down the lake or a small beach just behind the planetarium itself.

"Alright."

They started back towards the cul de sac that the Adler Planetarium sat on, where Michael could eventually summon an Uber and Gabriel, she assumed, would make his way toward the Planetarium’s parking to find his car. It was quiet here, just the two of them and the lake, the grass and a few trees. The Chicago skyline, its bright lights twinkling on skyscrapers, shone in the distance and you could look up and down the lake's shore if you wanted.

"So what do the pretty girls do?" Michael asked.

"Back on the spot."

"I'm curious."

"Well, it turns out the prettiest one I know likes astronomy displays and telescopes."

Michael shook her head in amusement.

"As much as I love Chicago, it seems kind of a shame that the city lights have taken away the natural lights."

"Probably one of the few things I don't like about the city. In the country, at least when I was a boy, summer nights went on forever. No one worried, parents didn't lock the doors. You'd walk into your backyard, and the stars were right there, and the fireflies weren't endangered back then, so there'd be hundreds, maybe thousands of them, so you had the stars on the ground with you, and the stars in the sky."

"You miss it."

The path grew dark here, trees overshadowing the lamps along their route.  The narrow walk came to a sudden and abrupt end and Michael let out a yelp, backpedaling right into Gabriel as her feet stepped in cold wet grass.

His hands settled on her hips, slowing her backwards momentum.

"Sorry, it’s grass I think, wet grass. I didn't realize."

"You're alright."

Michael fished her phone out of her purse, but Gabriel was ahead of her. The light of his phone showing the walk ending in wet, muddy grass. Michael snorted in annoyance and the hand on her hip moved into the small of her back as Gabriel turned toward the stairs leading down toward the water's edge and the beach. The light from his phone doing little to dispel the darkness cast by the shadows of the trees obscuring the shorter lamps along the path.

"I suppose we'll go that way."

Michael frowned for her response, letting her annoyance with the situation show in her expression.

"Do you want to go back the other way?"

She considered the idea of doubling back around or the almost direct angled line that would put them right in front of the planetarium.

"No, just a second though." Michael activated her phone wishing she hadn't deleted the flashlight app she'd downloaded.  It wasn't enough. The light of their phones disappeared almost completely once they were directly under the trees. It wasn't far, but Michael found herself a little nervous walking where she couldn't see.

She was just about to say something to that effect when her foot came down on something in the dark.

"Shit!"

Her right foot went out from under mid-step and suddenly Michael was fighting to regain her balance and avoid a nasty meeting with the concrete. She grabbed for nearest upright thing, Gabriel, and felt a flood of relief at his arms strong and steady and under hers. For a handful of seconds she held onto him, grateful that she was still upright and intact.

"Thank you."

"Of course, let's get where we can see."

The stairs went all along the water's edge, making a circle around the observatory. They walked a few feet in the direction they had come until they were standing again in the moonlight. Gabriel kept hold of her hand and she did not complain.

Michael was close enough to him to smell the warm, rich scent of his cologne he was wearing and she liked the feeling of his hand around hers, warm, strong, dry and when she looked down at their two hands his was nearly large enough to eclipse her own.

"Let's sit a moment," she said.

"Ok," he smiled.

They sat down on the concrete steps, still warm from soaking up the day's sun. He had to relinquish her hand to sit and when Michael settled next him she found she missed it immediately.

"You don't swear much." Gabriel said and Michael frowned.

"What brought that up?"

"Just an observation - not on your YouTube and not since we met, until just now."

"Not appropriate for an ambassador's daughter and not exactly acceptable with the rest of the nerds so it's just habit," Michael shrugged.

"Did you ever rebel? I'm no ambassador's daughter, but I know something about expected behavior."

Michael shook her head.

"In the beginning I was too busy being grateful and then later too busy proving myself to rebel."

The breeze blowing off the lake picked up then, cool and stiff, tugging her hair forward and leaving an array of coils hanging in her face. Michael used two hands to tuck them back behind her ears, noticing Gabriel's regard as she did so.

"What?" She asked even as an errant coil sprung free to dangle itself directly in her line of sight.

"May I?" He asked, expression one of wonder and curiosity.

He caught the corkscrew curl between his index and forefinger, stretching it a bit to run his thumb along its length before tucking the wayward coil in with her sisters and ghosting his hand along the cloudy mane of her hair before setting it a moment on the nape of her neck

"I take it you've never dated a black woman before."

"None with hair like yours." He replied casually.

And the look of wonder in expression transformed into something more earthy as his hand moved in one long caress across her bare shoulder and up the column of her throat to catch her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his intent plain.

He was going to kiss her and she was going to let him.

Her tongue snaked out across her lower lip in anticipation.

His lips found hers not a moment later, warm and soft, a brush across her own, awakening sensitive nerves, sending a familiar, but long unfelt signal to her brain. She liked it, liked him

And then he was lifting his lips from hers, that first kiss a mere taste, brief and fleeting.

Michael opened her eyes and saw him gazing at her. His eyes dark and heavy-lidded, attention fixed wholly on her. She knew that look.

Her uncertainty swarmed back up to the surface, along with Sylvia's suggestion that she use him to fix her "little problem", but she'd have to tell him about “her little problem”.

He leaned in to kiss her again and Michael pulled back. Not in a cute way like a woman in a romcom who didn't quite yet want to be kissed, but in a hard and almost embarrassingly firm way. Gabriel sat back, obviously confused himself. Feeling acutely embarrassed, Michael stood up and walked away, fingertips pressed to her lips.

She'd only managed a few steps when Gabriel came up behind her.

"Michael." She stopped, but didn't turn, certain she was betraying her inexperience in clear and obvious signals.

"Michael." He tugged her arm turning her towards him. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." She said, not looking at him.

"Did I misread back there?"

"No."

"It's been a long time since I had any complaints about my kissing and, uh, I haven't had any garlic tonight..."

The hint of humor in his voice made her look up.

"Your breath is fine, just a little cinnamon and whiskey."

“Ok."

She could hear the prodding tone in his voice.

"And the kiss," she looked up at him, biting down on her lower lip even as a smile tugged the corners of her mouth upward into a smile.

"The kiss was nice, more than nice."

"So."

"It's our first date." She blurted out her mind coming up with a better explanation for her behavior than 'I just feel like I don't know what the hell I'm doing and I panicked.'

"Ahhh," he started to grin then, smug and self-satisfied. "So it was too nice."

She gave a slow, reluctant nod and Gabriel looked altogether too pleased with himself.

"Why don't we finish our walk?"

Still wearing his pleased smile, Gabriel put his hands in his pockets and they started back toward the planetarium.

"How did you get into photography?" she asked, wanting anything to take her mind from her embarrassment.

"Got into it when I was a kid." His eyebrows arched, betraying a faint hint of surprise. "My parents got divorced when I was ten. I was angry, didn't even really understand how angry I was, and this was a big deal back in the 80's, especially in the South."

They reached the street then and Gabriel, sighting a bench, suggested they have a seat.

"I took it out on the other kids." He said looking away from her. "They were happy, or at least it seemed that way. I was unhappy; the world wasn't fair. They needed to know. I ended up getting suspended from school, which was for the best, ‘cause I met my first mentor, Terry Green. He showed me a better way to express myself. I started with drawing, eventually moved onto photography."

"I'm sorry about your parents."

"It was years ago and no worse than any other family."

They sat in silence for a while. Most of the people had gone, the planetarium was closed and the little cul de sac it sat on was mostly empty.

"When I went to live with my adoptive parents, I was so angry. I didn't realize it at first. Sarek, my adoptive father, got me into meditation and martial arts."

Gabriel faced her, resting one arm on the back of the bench, his body angled towards hers, expression attentive.

"The meditation helped?"

"The martial arts helped."

He smiled at that.

"I could hit people as long as I didn't hit them too hard. It was physical, so I could burn off all that energy, and it required discipline and focus. But it wasn't enough. I think I went in the opposite direction that you did. I threw myself into my studies, into learning and doing well."

"Did it work?"

"I think so. I graduated top of my class in high school, same in college, and got my dream job."

"Dream life?"

"Yeah."

Michael fell silent then, frowning at the turn of her thoughts. Uncomfortable with the sudden idea that the anger of her twelve-year-old self had dictated the last eighteen years of her life and perhaps that twelve-year-old hadn't made the best choices.

"What is it, Michael?" Gabriel shifted position so that he was facing her directly. She could see a mixture of concern and curiosity in his eyes.

She shook her head.

"It's too somber for a date; we've been having fun."

"As you like, but if you want to talk about something I'd be happy to listen."

She looked at him squarely now - his blue eyes, his beard, that congenial smile.

"I-I-" She fell silent, not at all sure she wanted to have an existential crisis about her love life on their first date.

"Here," Gabriel held out his hand two fortune cookies in clear plastic wrappers sat in his outstretched palm.

"Where did those come from?" She asked grateful for the distraction from her somber thoughts.

"My family manufactures them."

"Oh."

She plucked one of the cookies from his palm.

"You go first," she said.

"Alright."

Sometimes you just need to lay on the floor.

They both looked down at the sidewalk before snickering.

"Not today."

Michael opened hers, fumbling a moment with the plastic before the pulling the cookie free. It took a second to split the cookie to produce a puzzling fortune:

Trust is key.

"That's a disappointing fortune." She handed the slip to Gabriel. "Did your family manufacture these? If so, I need to lodge a complaint with the owner."

She could see his lips pursed to hold back laughter.

"What's your complaint, ma'am?"

"Well, that is a very disappointing fortune. I already know the value of trust. I wanted to learn my future from a free cookie."

Michael chuckled, and Gabriel did the same, the pair sharing a brief laugh.

"This really has been the most fun I've had on a first date. I should head. I have to get an early start on my day tomorrow." Michael said fishing her phone out of her purse.

"Of course - I'd be happy to drop you off."

"Thank you, but the Uber drive is just a few minutes away."

Michael sat her phone down on the bench.

"I had a really good time." She said meeting his eyes.

"Good. Is it too soon to ask you out again?" He smiled his most engaging and Michael fought the urge to say yes right away.

"I've been advised that I should play hard to get." Michael in a teasing tone.

"Who's giving you this advice?" Gabriel gave her a look of mock offense.  "I don't like this person."

"Awww, my best friend is really sweet."

"I'm not dating your best friend, Michael."

Michael laughed in spite of the sliver of possessive jealousy she felt at the idea.

"You better not be." She said, a hint of harshness creeping into her tone.

It was Gabriel's turn to look amused.

"I thought you were playing hard to get. Where's that poker face you told me about?"

She feigned a moment of shock and schooled her expression into one of complete neutrality.

"Damn, that's pretty good."

"Thank you," she replied, keeping her blank expression.

"So, Saturday?"

Michael kept her blank poker face on and watched uncertainty creep into his expression.

"What would we do?" She asked the question in a monotone.

"Dinner, movie, there's an art festival in Hyde Park this weekend."

"That sounds like it could be fun." She said, still keeping her carefully neutral expression and tone of voice.

"So that's how you're going to play it?"

"Play what?" She asked innocently.

"Ok."

Gabriel stroked his beard a moment before moving closer to her on the bench, his hip and thigh pressing against her own, the contact electrifying. He settled a hand over the hand in her lap. Her poker face cracked, eyes widening as he leaned in close. Then he surprised her by pausing and letting his eyes take a deliberate and leisurely tour of her face before dropping them to give her an up-down.

When he met her eyes again they were dark with naked desire and adoration that sent pulse of arousal went all through Michael and she let that magnetic pull draw her toward him. It was the end of their date after all.

Her eyelids fluttered shut; his lips found hers and the hand in her lap slid round to grasp her hip.

Their kiss at the edge of the lake had been soft, sweet. This one was anything but. There was an instant heat at the touch of his lips. He nipped her lower lip, and she opened her mouth for him, letting his tongue - hot, wet and velvet - slip into her mouth.

Taking her opportunity, Michael reached up to stroke his beard and found it soft to the touch as he closed a hand in her soft fluffy hair.

His kiss felt so damned good. The sensitive nerve endings in her lips stirred to greedy wakefulness while his tongue hot and soft stroked her own.

Her phone buzzed then.

The Uber driver. Michael found herself tempted to send them away and sit right there doing what she was doing. It was Gabriel who broke the kiss. For a long moment, she stared into blue eyes darkened with lust.

"Your ride?" He asked voice low and gravelly.

"Yeah."

"Saturday?"

"Mhmm."

Gabriel captured her hand before she could pull it away and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm, blue eyes locked on hers the entire time. A pulse of pleasure went all through Michael's pelvis and his kiss left a tingling spot on her palm.

He stood, pulling her up with him.

She had just enough presence of mind to grab her phone before he walked her to her cab.

[chaoticstudentcomputer]

Sudarshan Kriya Soham Count

Sudarshan Kriya Soham County

Sudarshan Kriya Soham Counter-strike Source

Sudarshan Kriya Counts

Sudarshan Kriya Soham Country Club

Long Sudarshan Kriya

Of all the 20 types of yoga, including Kundalini Yoga, Sodarshan Chakra Kriya is the highest kriya. This meditation cuts all darkness. It will give you a new start. It is the simplest kriya, but at the same time the hardest. It cuts through all barriers of the neurotic or psychotic inside-nature. When a person is in a very bad state, techniques imposed from the outside will not work. The pressure has to be stimulated from within. This kriya invokes the Kundalini to give you the necessary vitality and intuition to combat the negative effects of the subconscious mind. One of the three master Aquarian Age kriyas (along with Sat Kriya and Kirtan Kriya), doing Sodarshan Chakra Kriya is a way to master yourself.

First step - Hands on hip bone. Breath in till 4 count, hold breath till 4 count, breath out till count 6, hold breath for 2 counts. Mar 7, 2014 - Enjoy the videos and music you love, upload original content, and share it all with friends, family, and the world on YouTube. Sudarshan Kriya has been found to be effective in alleviating the symptoms of mental health issues like post traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, depression, trauma and bipolar disorder, and physical health issues like high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and issues related to the endocrine system and immunity. Effects of Sudarshan Kriya.

It is like clearing out the trash from our subconscious. It is a powerful intermediate meditation and can be challenging for a beginner to practice correctly. A teacher is valuable to help a student understand the subtle aspects of this Kriya.

Sudarshan Kriya Soham County

A recording of 'Wahe Guru for Sodarshan Chakra Kriya' by Gurucharan Singh Khalsa & Gurusangat Singh. Can be found at either Ancient Healing Ways or Spirit Voyage.

n','url':'https://youtu.be/3gG2jBJgkK4','width':640,'height':480,'providerName':'YouTube','thumbnailUrl':'https://i.ytimg.com/vi/3gG2jBJgkK4/hqdefault.jpg','resolvedBy':'youtube'}'>

Yogi Bhajan talks about intuition And Shows how to do Sodarshan Kriya in this video.

This is a wonderful video lecture a Yogi Bhajan explains the subtle meanings of the Mantra Waheguru. At around 9:32 he leads the class in Sodarshan Chakra Kriya. (for some reason it goes dark - I'm working on it - SSK/8/1417)

Posture:

Sit with a straight spine, chin level to the floor, locked in Jalandhara Bhanda (chin lock)

Breath and Actions:

Block off the right nostril with the right thumb.

Inhale slowly and deep through the left nostril.

T hen hold the breath by suspending the action of breathing and lifting the chest slightly.

while you mentally chant'Wahe Guru' 16 times,

pumping the navel point 3 times with each repetition,

once on Wha,

once on Hey, and

once on Guru - for a total of 48 pumps.

Release the right nostril.

Place the index finger (pinkie finger can also be used) to block of the left nostril,

exhale slowly and completely through the right nostril.

Continue to repeat this sequence of breathing, holding and pumping.

Eyes:

Look at the tip of the nose

eyes 9/10th closed

End of Meditation:

Inhale, hold 5-10 seconds, exhale.

Then stretch your arms up high

shake every part of your body for about 1 min.

so that the energy may spread.

At this point you can do One Minute Breath

or simply do a layout.

Breathe and be still.

Circulate the energy and integrate the experience.

Allow the adjustment to take place.

See Comments Below:

Guru Tej Kaur asked Yogi Bhajan for a 1000 day meditation, he gave her Sodarshan and she has now been doing it for 18 years, from: Spirit Voyage's Summer Solstice 2008 Special Edition - Focus on Teachers and Musicians.

'I love So Darshan Chakra Kriya. I've been doing it for 62 minutes a day for 15 years,' Sham Rang - Message #9919 from the Yahoo Group.

Recent Update!!

NOTE: There has been more than one description of Sodarshan Ckakra Kriya circulating around. Nam Kaur checked with Yogi Bhajan and he clearly confirmed that there is only one version of Sodarshan Chakra Kriya. The correct description is included below.

'Now, most powerful and beautiful is Sodarshan Chakra Kriya. I thought that I have taught for so many years, now people are ready for it. We didn't start teaching it the first day. For me (I do not know about anyone else) it took 30 years to be able to control my left and right nostrils without holding them with my fingers. And I still do that sometimes when I feel very weak - I use my hand and fingers. Somebody can say, 'Switching nostrils is not needed since the air coming through the right nostril and the left nostril meets.'We shall not take any responsibility for such wrong practices! What the hell is one creating? Disturbing the pituitary, the master command gland? These kinds of jokes will end by themselves, but it will be dangerous for those who practice it wrong. There is nothing in the teachings which are not clearly stated and which have not worked accurately'.

~ Yogi Bhajan Gurdwara Sunday, December 22nd, 2002

IKYTA often receives questions from teachers about the science of Kundalini Yoga, asking if it is okay to substitute or delete exercises in a kriya, or teach only one part of a three-part meditation, etc. We have even been asked if it is okay to teach a Kundalini Yoga meditation in a Hatha Yoga class! Yogi Bhajan explained that this is not permissible, that Kundalini Yoga should not be mixed with other forms of yoga, and kriyas should not be changed in any way, except to shorten the times of the exercises if desired. I'll pass on another direct quote from Yogi Bhajan which says it best:

'The Teachings are the Teachings, and have no one's personality in them. I never edit them; you should not edit them. It is a Golden Chain. My own prayer is that you can perfect what it is, and go with it. It is a funny thing. It is a three thousand year old proven path - it's not going to stop. Why do you want to add or subtract something - to satisfy your ego or convince students? It is very deceitful on the part of a teacher to teach teachings to please people. So honestly give people what we have. Teach like me. Teach exactly as it is. If you are not going to teach Kundalini Yoga purely, then don't teach it at all. With Kundalini Yoga you are dealing with the life force of the atom.

Don't play with the pranic energy'.

~ Yogi Bhajan

Comments

This is one of the greatest meditations you can practice. According to the Tantra Shastras, it can make you perfect your potential and be a superhuman human. It purifies your past and the subconscious impulses that may block you from fulfilling and balance all the 27 facets of the life and mental projection. And in those 27 total virtues of the world lies the entire universe. So start with 31 min, then after a while do it for 40 minutes, then for 62 min.

If you do this meditation for 62 minutes to start with, and develop to the point that you can do it 2-1/2 hours a day, 1/10th of the day, it gives you 'Nao niddhi athara siddhi';that is you will get the nine precious virtues and the 18 occult powers.It opens your inner universe to relate, co-create and complete the external universe.

At 2-1/2 hours every day, it makes out of you a perfect superman.It purifies, it takes care of the human life and

brings together all 27 facets of life and makes a human perfect, saintly, successful and qualified. It gives you the pranic power of health and healing. It establishes inner happiness and a state of flow and ecstasy in life.

The kriya never fails.

To gain these benefits requires different efforts from different people. Each mind has stored up its own pile of negative thought and energy. So each pit is cleaned on its own time and scale. You decide how much time you have and you need to invest in this practice. Treat the practice with reverence and increase your depth, dimensions, caliber and happiness. It gives you a new start against all odds. It saves you when internal pressures have become too great for any external influence or solution. It gives you the ability to stimulate your self from inside.

Time Constraints:

There is no time, no place, no space and no condition attached to this mantra. Each garbage pit has its own time to clear. If you are going to clean your own garbage, you must estimate and clean it as fast as you can, or as slow as you want. You have to decide how much time you have to clean up your garbage pit.

Suggested length for this kriya is 31 minutes or 62 minutes a day.

Note: This is how the Siri Singh Sahib kept track of the counting. We do not have to do it this way. There are 2 cds that use the chanting to count the 16 times.

Inhale blocking the right nostril with the right thumb,

other fingers held straight up in the air.

And then I hold,

and then I count '16' - - how?

One. two. three -- counts with the pinkie finger, moving it slightly three times.

Four, Five, six -- moves the ring finger three times.

Seven, eight, nine -- moves the middle or Saturn finger three times.

Ten, eleven, twelve: -- moves the index finger three times.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen -- moves the thumb slightly for three beats.

Sixteen -- brings the index finger over to block off the left nostril,

as he releases the right thumb from the right nostril.

Then Exhale through right nostril.

Sudarshan Kriya Soham Counter-strike Source

Note: Additionally, Yogi Bhajan has 'suggested' tha we follow any Kriya with One Minute Breath:

20 seconds slow inhale,

20 seconds suspending the breath

and 20 seconds slowly releasing the breath.

Do this for up to 11 minutes.

If you have trouble with 20 seconds then do 15 seconds.

Don't beat yourself up.

This should be a delicious experience where you savor the subtlety of your efforts. This will allow your whole psyche to fully assimilate and digest the Kriya consciously and will help you sustain the effects of your practice.

Note: The following section is from a Kundalini Yoga site, but not one aligned with Yogi Bhajan. I have included it because I can't hold my breath long enough to do the 3 pumps.. Sat Avtar Kaur

Beginners Sodarshan Chakra Kriya: Modify kriya as follows: Do only 1 pump for each chant of Wahay Guru. So in total with your breath held in you will do 16 pumps per cycle. Also, reduce the force of the pump to where you are comfortable. Start with 3 minutes and build up to 11 minutes. The kriya should be practiced daily.

Intermediates Sodarshan Chakra Kriya: Modify kriya as follows: Do only 2 pumps for each chant of Wahay Guru. One for Wahay and one for Guru. So in total you will do 32 pumps with your breath held in per cycle. Pump your stomach with a moderate force. You should try to do 11 minutes, then go to 22 minutes and then to 31 minutes daily.

Advanced Sodarshan Chakra Kriya: Do the kriya as described above in the description section. You should be pumping your stomach with full force and you should do 31 minutes daily. The commitment should be to do 40 days without missing a day, 31 minutes each day.

To do the Perfect and complete kriya and thus extract the maximum benefit and reach super human caliber, the requirement is to do 62 minutes per day and build it up to 2 1/2 hours everyday.

SodarshanChakra Kriya also improves your physical wellbeing. It expands your nervous system, respiratory system and helps your digestive system and gives a boost to the immune system. It promotes peace, joy and strength.

Breathing in through the left nostril activates the right hemisphere of the brain. This hemisphere is responsible for your meditative, creative and artistic powers.

The mantra itself, Wahay Guru, means ecstasy beyond words and represents one's higher consciousness. Chanting this mantra attracts this divine energy towards one.

Pumping the navel helps ignite and awaken Kundalini Shakti so she can make her ascent up the spine to the Crown Chakra (Sahasrara Chakra) activating, rejuvenating, balancing and healing all the other Chakras and associated organs in her path.

Related Pages:

You may wonder what is the difference between yoga and Sudarshan Kriya, because yoga is much more than physical exercises, it is about being completely or totally involved with the mind and breathing, while Sudarshan Kriya harnesses your inner energy and connects you to the source of life.

Many people have the same question: What is the solution to anger? Anger is fine only if it lasts a little, otherwise it is harmful to your being, the good news is that you can fix it with meditation.

Are you looking for a solution to deal with stress? Do you want to feel better, look better and live better? Would you believe it if you knew that the solution to all this is to breathe well? Yes, you have read it correctly and it is the answer, it is as simple as if you do it well.

Tension and anxiety are byproducts of our modern rhythm of life and the best thing is to explore the natural healing methods of the various cultural traditions that give lasting results, Sudarshan Kriya is one of those methods of the ancient yogic science of India.

What is Sudarshan Kriya?

Contenidos

1 What is Sudarshan Kriya?

In a disaggregated way ‘His’ means right, and ‘darshan’ means vision. Kriya’ in yogic science means to purify the body, therefore Sudarshan Kriya means proper vision by purifying action.

Sudarshan Kriya Yoga is a unique breathing practice that involves cyclic breathing patterns ranging from slow and calming to fast and stimulating.

In this Kriya, you take control of your breath, which positively affects your immune system, nerves, and psychological problems.

According to a study published in 2009, Sudarshan Kriya yoga can effectively address anxiety and depression.

The method is cheap and risk-free and has favorable effects on your mind-body connection, with environmental pollution, bad eating habits, and a sedentary lifestyle that clogs you, Sudarshan Kriya is a way out for you to lead a better life.

Remember, you should be initiated into Kriya only by a certified yoga teacher or a recognized guru.

The Sudarshan Kriya Technique involves Ujjayi (victorious breath), Bhastrika (breath of the blows), Om Chant, Kriya (Purifying Breath).

Sudarshan Kriya Counts

Before starting the kriya, sit in the Vajrasana position.

Ujjayi (victorious breath)

Ujjayi requires that you breathe consciously, you can feel your breath touching your throat.

Ujjayi is a slow breathing process where you inhale and exhale in a relaxed way, keeping the duration of the inhalation and exhalation the same.

This technique requires you to take approximately 2 to 4 breaths per minute.

The slow breathing trains you to gain control over your breath and allows you to prolong it until the exact count, the Ujjayi calms you and keeps you alert.

Bhastrika (breath of the blows)

In Bhastrika, you will have to inhale and exhale air quickly and forcefully, you must be able to do 30 breaths per minute, the breathing style is mainly short and fast, the duration of the exhalations must be twice that of the inhalations.

Bhastrika has the unique effect of stimulating the body followed by calm.

Om Chant

The pure sound of Om, the basis of all life, is sung 3 times, the song of Om connects it with the origin of the universe and the purpose of life.

Om runs in its breath that sustains life, Om, when said out loud, is divided into three parts – A-U-M. After chanting two Oms, there must be silence, it represents a state of happiness when one can experience the supreme state.

Kriya (Purifying Breath)

The third and most important form is Kriya, which is an advanced form of breathing.

It requires breathing in slow, medium and fast cycles, breathing must be cyclic and rhythmic, you must make sure that the duration of your inhalations is twice your exhalations, this final step clarifies your vision and purifies your being.

The whole process will take about 45 minutes and can be practiced at any time of the day, a recommendation is to avoid doing it immediately after eating.

Side Effects

Several international educational organizations studied and demonstrated that Sudarshan Kriya has no known side effects, its teaching form and efficacy were documented.

Sudarshan Kriya will work wonders on you when you learn from an expert yoga teacher who will guide you through it well, it is not recommended to try it on your own.

Sudarshan Kriya should be done under the guidance of a yoga teacher, otherwise it will be ineffective and perhaps even harmful.

Make sure that you are physically and mentally eligible to do the Sudarshan Kriya by consulting your doctor and yoga instructor, it is good for pregnant women, for people who are under abuse of alcohol and drugs and in people suffering from extreme mental illness should avoid this Kriya.

Benefits of Sudarshan Kriya

Sudarshan Kriya improves your overall health and well-being, increases your energy levels and strengthens the immune system, reduces cholesterol levels and improves organ functions.

Kriya trains you to deal with challenging situations in a better way, thus clearing your head of unnecessary disorder and improving your sleep quality, improving your brain function and increasing your creativity.

Sudarshan Kriya reduces stress and relieves anxiety, works great for post-traumatic stress disorder and depression, will completely relax you and help you achieve inner peace.

Kriya will relieve tensions in your personal relationships and build a bond of joy, harmony and love, making you aware of yourself and your environment.

It will increase your levels of confidence and make you more patient.

Now that you know that a relatively simple process like Sudarshan Kriya can help you achieve mental, physical, emotional and social well-being, nothing should prevent you from enrolling in a class and learning from a certified yoga instructor. Find a place and get started now!

Sudarshan Kriya Soham Country Club

This Other Extraordinary Publication «6 Warm-up Exercises for Yoga» You may be interested Come in and see for yourself!

Long Sudarshan Kriya

I hope you liked the publication of this article emphasizing «Learn How to Make Sudarshan Kriya and What are its Benefits!». You can share your opinions and experiences with me in the comments section.

[turkiyeecom]

E3 2019 in photos: Gooigi, crazy arcade machines, and a DOOM museum

"Great work!" — Plus, the National Videogame Museum returns with some of its craziest rarities yet. Sam Machkovech and Kyle Orland - Jun 16, 2019 1:00 pm UTC LOS ANGELES—If you couldn't or didn't make it to E3 2019, you're not the only one. Anecdotal evidence suggests this was the most poorly attended E3 in some time (though its organizers at the ESA insist that this E3 had only 3,000 fewer attendees than 2018's jam-packed affair), owing perhaps to Sony's no-show or the abundance of live-streamed options for enjoying the event at your own home. Luigi and Gooigi attracted hordes of attendees excited to pose for photos. Sam Machkovech Inside the Luigi's Mansion 3 booth, fans could pose with a guy in a Luigi costume. Nintendo went all-out building a haunted house for these kiosks, but my photos of it turned out terribly. It was easier to get photos of the toy dioramas built around the Link's Awakening gameplay kiosks. Nintendo built four of them in all. A closer zoom on the plastic minis Nintendo built just for this occasion. Link delves into a dungeon. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" "Wrong series, dude." I'll admit, I kinda lost my mind seeing this adorable Link and Marin meet-cute diorama. Marin in Smash Bros. Ultimate? A guy can dream, right? The EA Play event at the Hollywood Palladium included this impressive cast of paid Apex Legends cosplayers. Yes, the person cosplaying as Octane is a bilateral amputee. You couldn't buy these impressive 10" Apex Legends statues at EA Play. But you could buy a ton of shirts and hoodies. As an Apex Legends fan, Ars's Sam Machkovech nearly bought the "bamboozled" one. For some reason, EA Play hosted an Anthem gameplay session... and for some reason, attendees actually waited for it. FIFA '20 hosted an arena-soccer match. The McLaren Senna features in the new LEGO Speed expansion pack for Forza Horizon 4, so naturally, Microsoft had someone make a life-sized McLaren Serra model out of LEGO bricks. They went to pretty insane trouble to include significant elements from the real deal. Real wheels, real LEGO blocks. This refreshed version of the Xbox Elite Controller (dubbed "version 2") will launch in November for $180 and features such perks as a rechargeable battery, a controller-charging case, increased hair-trigger responsiveness, and more. We couldn't test the new XEC with any games, but its newly texturized grip and significant heft felt good to hold on its own. C'mon, Xbox, you think we're gonna steal this thing? How dare you. Say hello to one of Gears 5's newest, most disgusting monsters. It's not a Gears of War character if it doesn't have chest-high cover nearby. The best thing about Gears 5's new "Escape" mode is that it supports three-player split-screen co-op. More of this kinda thing, please, Xbox Game Studios. The newest LEGO Star Wars release this coming holiday season revolves around the "Skywalker Saga," so naturally, it's time to trot out the old LEGO Han in LEGO carbonite statue again. Coach's Pac-Man line of bags and accessories. For the discerning, fancypants gamer. More Pac-Man and classic-Namco swag. Pretty solid 10" Tekken statues. The entire Bandai Namco fancy-collectible wall was pretty great, honestly. I couldn't take photos of the Final Fantasy VII Remake gameplay kiosks, but I could take photos of the series' Shinra Corporation stuff all around it. For example, this recreation of an iconic FFVII backdrop. Square Enix put up a few Shinra advertisements around the kiosks. See? They have Midgar's best interests at heart! I really hope there's a full cartoon series hidden inside of FFVII Remake starring this cartoon dog. Someone please translate this for us. A small detail of the amazing theater room for Psychonauts 2. TEETH! Arcade1UP had a significant E3 presence with its home-friendly versions of classic arcade machines. The manufacturer used E3 to reveal its newest product: a Star Wars Atari arcade trilogy collection, coming "late 2019." Another look at its handsome side cabinet art. I had to stand on a stool to get a better look at the screen and controller. Because this cabinet was set up on a precarious platform, it was not playable at E3. An Arcade1UP representative said it collaborated with Disney and Lucasfilm in the making of this cabinet, then studied original classic arcade hardware to recreate the controller. Rather than answer my technical questions about how the controller was constructed in this modern version, the Arcade1UP rep insisted that it sought input from arcade cabinet collectors to confirm that its version nailed the original cabinets' feel and mechanical action. Another new Arcade1UP cabinet: the TMNT collection, which includes both of Konami's four-player brawlers in one cabinet. (Most of their cabs include at least two games, if not a few more.) It seems to comfortably support four players, but I liked this group's tweak: letting the middle player simultaneously control two turtles. Then there was this absolutely ridiculous thing that Arcade1UP built for the heckuvit. That's intrepid Ars Technica editor Sam Machkovech up there pretending to play the game. I hope the hand on the joystick makes clear how stupidly massive this whole rig was. But it worked... and Sam won his match. Really, Sam? Be professional. Sega's booth had its own oversized-controller gimmick to celebrate the impending launch of the Sega Genesis Mini this September. It's not really E3 until Ubisoft has a stage full of professional dancers and average fans getting down to Just Dance as one awkward collective. A peek at the poster-covered walls inside of Cyberpunk 2077's behind-closed-doors booth. Capcom had a relatively meager showing at E3, with this new Monster Hunter World expansion taking up most of the company's booth. But, hey, at least they had some nice 10" dragons under glass. Hold me closer, tiny draaaagonnnnns. Sorry, Street Fighter fans. Capcom didn't come to E3 2019 with any news about either SFV or any new fighting games. Just 10" figurines. Chun-Li and Cammy, kicking ass beneath glass. Larger than life. Just like Borderlands should be. Kyle Orland This was by far the best part of the Destroy All Humans revival attempt. Kyle Orland Pixl Cube was one of the more inventive games at the Indiecade booth, a tilt-sensitive box with LED dots that moved through a maze as if pulled by gravity. Kyle Orland In the entryway for Youtube Gaming's creator space, blocks from the show floor, a Google Stadia controller sits behind glass with a mock-up of a retro game store. Kyle Orland The YouTube Gaming space also featured some streamers on old-school CRT TVs, which was a weird look. Kyle Orland Cute. Kyle Orland The YouTube Gaming logo sits on a fake cartridge alongside... Hyper Chroma Ultra? Kyle Orland Nothing says "E3" like a guy in a Yoshi/Mario costume livestreaming himself as he balks loudly at the show floor's $6 pretzels. Kyle Orland New Wave Toys is expanding its Replicade line of authentic miniature cabinets with the likes of these two Capcom classics. Kyle Orland MyArcade is expanding from miniature cabinets to massive portable systems capable of playing actual NES and SNES cartridges. Kyle Orland MyArcade's upcoming Contra cabinet even includes link cable support for two player action. Don't you DARE touch this actual Contra cabinet in the MyArcade booth, though. Kyle Orland That being said, we attended, and Ars Technica came back from Los Angeles with plenty to show for it. In addition to a few more hands-on previews coming (which will build upon the best-of E3 2019 list we already filed), we took our cameras out at both the official E3 halls and nearby events (Xbox Fan Fest, EA Play). I gotta say, in this modern political climate, I have been calling every year "the year of doom." A very nice pencil sketch taken from the original PC game's box art. I'd never seen these minis before, but now I want to play DOOM-opoly. A better zoom on these metal beasts. Collect me plenty. Now for some impressive 3D molds of famed DOOM demons. See? It's like a museum. Funnily enough, this is my "I don't know what to do with my hands" pose when I stand for photos. The secret for awkward photo poses: turn your arms into massive rocket launchers. Way less awkward! As one of DOOM 64's longtime fans, I stood at this specific panel for a while. This might be the least-blurry these N64 sprites have ever looked. (The N64 famously smothered its sprites in a disgusting, smeary blur.) More figurines on display. More figurines on display. More swag on display. More swag on display. The result is a whopping three image galleries here. The first is a catch-all for most of the basic, expected fare, while the second and third focus on retro elements: a DOOM-specific mini-museum, and a curated collection of very rare gaming hardware and collectibles courtesy of the National Videogame Museum in Frisco, Tex. (If you've never been to that physical location before, we strongly encourage you to book a trip.) You know the retro portion of E3 is serious when they put this thing behind a rope. Truly one of a kind. Click the image to get a better look at the information placard. Yep, those are traditional Saturn controller ports. We'd never seen these Vectrex prototypes and variants before. The innards of a prototype color Vectrex system that never saw production. Kyle Orland Anybody think they can repair this thing? Yes, the only scoring cart that remains from this Super Nintendo championship event. Also, a killer Vectrex jacket. How the heck does the NVM keep finding and showing off such incredible game-history rarities? Some cool mementos from the original Mortal Kombat. The placard explains how rare this system is... ... based on this specific message signed by none other than Bill Gates. I don't care how puffy this jacket is. I'd wear it. Every year, the National Video Game Museum trots out at least one previously confidential binder taken from a major gaming company. This year's was Nintendo. I'm always fascinated by internal '80s and '90s documentation about piracy and cartridge backup systems. This section went on for a few more pages and even included grainy photos of various cartridge-copying devices. Video games: the board game! Video games: the, uh, VHS game! Well before the Game Boy revolutionized portable gaming, kids of the '70s and '80s were stuck with these clunkers. One wall was dedicated to particularly rare game consoles that launched solely in Japan. Eat your heart out, Donkey Konga. This is one of Gunpei Yokoi's classic electronic games that he designed for Nintendo in the '70s. This makes me wish Ulala was in an actual '80s cartoon. Kyle Orland In addition to popular and common fare in the coin-op section, the NVM trotted out a few machines we rarely see at classic gaming expos, like this fetching Jungle King cab. True story: we asked Double Fine studio founder and creative director Tim Schafer if he could step back for a second so we could take a photo of this handsome Omega Race cabinet. "I used to play this game all the time as a kid," he remarked before stepping away slowly. (If you're wondering, he signs his name "TIM" in high-score tables.) And we couldn't leave E3 without a walk through the almost carnival-like selection of vendors and inventions in the expo's very back hall. Look below at the show's weird "et cetera" section. Here's a gallery of E3 2019's oddest booths and products. "Wow, how nice and COOL!" we're sure you are saying to yourself. Kyle Orland Thermoreal uses superconductors (?!) to simulate a cold or hot feeling in metal. The company integrated this tech into VR-compatible gloves and a VR headset. As the VR environment changes, so does the sensation of real-life temperature. Trippy! Kyle Orland This 1,000 MaH battery pack for the Switch was heavy, but the harness made it pretty easy to slide on and off to use only when it's needed. Kyle Orland Some extremely generic-looking custom chip boards for use in mini-arcade devices and portable emulation devices. If anybody reading this has the rights to the Atari Jaguar Mini, look them up. Kyle Orland Why stream games to a smartphone with Google Stadia when the Smach Z packs an entire 1080p gaming PC with a 6" screen into a rather bulky portable package? Doom (2016) ran with noticeable judders, and the unit got noticeably hot in our test. But the fact that it works at all was impressive. Kyle Orland The Tactsuit haptic system jolts your body when playing compatible VR games and software. Kyle Orland The Vuvana system has something to do with using a new blockchain cryptocurrency to buy and "own" items in virtual reality, which you can view on a cell phone with this included viewer, apparently. Kyle Orland Oversized controllers were all the rage at E3 2019, but this one went to the trouble of building in a monitor for its game, Street Fighter 2. Kyle Orland Remember the iCade Mini? Someone sure does... Kyle Orland GameBoks is just like it sounds—a wooden box that houses a monitor, power supply, and a space to hold and connect your game console. Between this and the new Atari VCS, wood paneling is apparently the hot new retro-hardware trend. Kyle Orland Proximat is being sold as a "mousepad for your virtual reality feet." It gives VR players a physical indication of their play space's center point, complete with high-grade gel for foot comfort. Kyle Orland If this is a thing you're looking for (for some reason), E3 has you covered. Kyle Orland Amazingly, a product with "360 ONE X" in its name has nothing to do with Xbox (it's a 360 degree camera designed for VR) Kyle Orland Neither vinyl nor fidget spinners are dead at E3 2019. Kyle Orland I need some quick energy after seeing all of these amazing products. It's my lucky day! Kyle Orland How do you make money selling $100 worth of stuff for $40? It's an economic miracle! Kyle Orland This balance board is mainly meant for some easy exercise while at a standing desk, but its producers were marketing it to gamers with a Mortal Kombat 11 display. Kyle Orland And the award for "most dystopian sounding slogan at E3" goes to... Kyle Orland "In the 1989 Future" is a legitimately great tagline, we have to admit. Kyle Orland Listing image by Sam Machkovech Read More Read the full article

[harold-theyre-lezbians]

DO ALL THE SPACE ASKS MY FREN 🌍🌕🌟

THANKS FOR ASKING FREN

pluto: what do you love most about yourself?

I like that I’m determined and passionate I guess

mars: who is your ideal best friend?

probably my current bff - someone who I have a lot in common with but we still have our own interests that we tell each other about, and someone who I can have lots of fun and laughs with but also sit in silence and it be totally normal and lovely, and someone who I could spend days on end with and never feel drained or like I needed to get away for a minute

earth: what’s your ideal house/home?

I really can’t wait to decorate my own house when I’m older, and I’d really like a big Victorian house with the nice big rooms and tall ceilings and narrow hallways, they’re cool houses, and I’d just like books everywhere and big comfy sofas and chairs and lots of candles and cushions and big framed posters of my fave things (framed because I’d be an adult and adults frame shit otherwise you get your adult card revoked)

saturn: what’s your aesthetic?

I genuinely have never set out to have ‘an aesthetic’ like I’m just not that put together as a human, but due to who I am, it’s sort of morphed into ‘grandma meets english student’ - lots of shirts or jumpers, books and paper everywhere, many many notebooks, too many coffee mug stains on my bedside table and bookshelf and chest of drawers, polaroids, film prints, some fairy lights here and there - idk, I guess I like it, I didn’t really create it, it just evolved of its own accord out of my inability to stop buying books, my aggressive accumulation of paper, and my inability to drink hot drinks properly without staining surfaces - I did originally set out for a blue/white aesthetic in my room, that’s what I’ve always had, but it didn’t work unless my room was neat, and I’m not about that life, I tidy once a week or when I get anxious about the mess, and then I don’t know where anything is cause it’s tidy, so I moved away from the aesthetic that demanded neatness

jupiter: if you could choose your own name what would it be?

Idk, I like my name, and I’m not hugely creative, I do really like the Irish names that I’ve grown up around, like Niamh and Ceili and Sorcha

neptune: what’s an album that you can listen through entirely w/o skipping song?

most of the albums I listen to I do that with, but currently I’d say ‘The Last Five Years’ original cast recording - great musical

venus: go to piece of clothing/outfit?

my brown/beige wooly turtleneck, or my grey jumper, they’re so comfy

mercury: what’s something you couldn’t live without?\

tea, coffee, netflix, friends

uranus: what’s your zodiac sign?

Cancer

the moon: favorite quote?

uhhh idk it’s hard to choose, I really like ‘I want to do to you what spring does to cherry trees’ because yas Pablo Neruda coming up with something that is all at once so loving and caring but also erotic and passionate, I also like one of Leslie Knope’s lines in Parks and Rec ‘I am going to be direct and honest with you. I would like a glass of red wine and I’ll have the cheapest one you have because I can’t tell the difference’ because I honestly can’t

the sun: what motivates you?

Leslie Knope, Lilly Singh, fear of failing 

kepler-22b: if you could go anywhere, where would it be/why?

New York because it’s my dream city and I’ll live there one day and it’s full of culture and exciting things and things that make me happier than any of the other things and it’s a proper city, like London is so big it feels weird, but New York feels like proper city living. Also Iceland, that’d be cool 

phobos: what was your favorite song as a child?

The Voyage by Christy Moore because it’s soft and sweet and I’d fall asleep to it on car journeys

ceres: out of everyone/thing in this world, who would you elect president?

Eddie Izzard

titan: if you could die your hair absolutely any color and pull it off, what would it be?

Electric blue dip dye

callisko: what’s your ideal job?

Actress

enceladus: who is your favorite person? what are they like?

I’ve already talked about one of my bffs, so I’ll talk about my other one, Riyana. She’s super sweet and lovely, and she’s amazing at baking and always has something that she’s just baked to give to everyone. She’s great at knitting and made me socks and she taught me how to knit and now I know how and I feel like a grandma. She always gives the best hugs and advice and always makes me feel calm and centred. She is an awesome human

hyperion: do you have a favorite store/shop?

Waterstones and Oxfam have all of my money

comet: what’s your biggest secret?

why would I put that on tumblr

astroid: what’ your biggest fear? i there a reason why you’re scared of it?

Deep water - ohhh I’m so scared of it, nothing could actually be worse. It’s dark and DEATH CREATURES live there and you don’t know what’s under you and it’s so so deep like we can’t even fathom how deep it is, it’s so scary, and there’s no where to put your feet and it’s awful. I can just about deal with deep pools, but I will not take my feet off the ocean floor unless the water is crystal clear

shooting star: who is your ideal s/o?

someone who loves eddie izzard and b99 and neflix and cuddling and tea as much as I do

[ultrafictionfolly-blog]

Seared Steak

Seared steak. That’s what they used to say that space smelled like. It wasn’t that far off.

I can’t say that I remember what steak smells like, tastes like, or even looks like. But I remember the name, and I remember that it used to be said that space smelled like it. To me there was no smell, only the sensation of something that could only be loosely described as smell, as a concept. The sensation was metallic, and it permeated the hull of the ship that was my body, but also not my body. Perhaps it was the metallic sensation of my hull mixing with the metallic sensation of space that gave me this feeling, if it could be called a feeling.

A lingering reverberation ceases, signaling that the cutting tool is finished. My large metallic claws move effortlessly as I grab the massive piece of equipment and pry it free from its casings. I can feel the massive surges of radiation move along the metal tendrils that are my arms, and seep into every rivet and plate of metal that is my skin. It feels electric, like grasping an exposed low-voltage wire. It is euphoric.

I open the cargo bay with an unconscious flicker of thought; it is pure instinct. It is as moving an arm, or a finger, or taking a breath. I could do it in my sleep, if I slept.

My metal tendril gingerly places the piece of equipment inside, other small metal claws swiftly securing it into place and I close the cargo hatch. The job is finished.

With another glint of thought I call back to memory the coordinates of the drop-off point and my metal body lurches forward in a torrent of blurred space and time. The sensation on my metal skin is like running through a field of sunflowers, or instead, what I imagine running through a field of sunflowers might be like, and then I wonder what a sunflower is and why it feels so lovely. This body has not felt such a sensation, but another might have. Why else would I be able to recall this analogy? It must be locked away somewhere, deep inside.

Hours, days, or weeks pass, I cannot tell which, but my body lurches again and the space around me settles into a quiet stillness. A large space station looms into my field of vision and I engage my thrusters and accelerate towards it.

As I begin my final approach, a communication sounds in my ears, or what could be my ears.

“State your business,” It demands.

I have it, I think, or say. I do not know which, but it is given a reply.

“Cleared. Bay 37,” the voice responds.

I politely entreat Bay 37 to open its doors for me and it acquiesces. I advance inside and large docking clamps press against me with cold, unfeeling firmness.

I leave my body.

Visual sight springs into being, blurry at first, but a nanosecond later my surroundings are crisp and clear. I suddenly remember that I have fingers, my metal tendrils are now soft and mellifluous, and I have ten of them at my command. They reach around me and press on two securing clasps. I feel the smooth linking rod slide out from inside my cognizance, briefly conjuring a sexual metaphor, but it escapes, as if my mind purposefully pushed it away. I am now cut off from my metal body, and my softer, more frail body is now firmly under my control, and it feels less than ideal.

I blink, I stretch my arms out in front of me, and I twirl my toes inside my boots. I lick my lips, and I twist my neck. I sit up and then I stand, my muscles unconsciously flexing to balance me. It will have to do.

I walk to the hatch near the rear and I linger for a moment, forgetting that I must push the button with my fingers. A metallic buzzing sounds and the metal door of my former body hisses open and a platform extends towards me from beyond. I follow it along a catwalk suspended above miles of emptiness, my boots creating small echoes around me that ultimately get lost in the void.

I come to a simple door, a small red light pulsing above it. A moment later the light turns green and a metallic clank sounds, and I pull the door open. A human in a crisp, red uniform greets me.

“We’re retrieving it from your cargo bay as we speak. We appreciate your diligence, and your confidentiality, in this matter. We will send a team to dispose of the rest of the wreckage in due time.” I stare into his eyes. He stares back but I cannot read his expression. He coughs awkwardly. “Will there be anything else?”

I forget that I must use actual words with him. I quickly rectify this. “No. That is all,” I say. “Besides my payment.”

His expression now appears to be annoyance. “Already sent.”

I continue to stare at him, again forgetting that I must give him a sign of acknowledgment. I make a mental note to spend more time in this body, and I nod towards him.

***

I don’t recall how long I spent in my metal body after leaving the station and the man in the crisp red uniform, but I am now coming up on the station that orbits Rhea. It is a simple mining station, but it is where I enjoy spending time outside of my metal body. I unplug myself from myself before reaching the station, instead opting to take “manual” control; my own flesh hands feel insufficient.

The station manager hails my communication systems and I hear the voice crackle over the internal speakers, musing at how different is sounds, or feels, when I am in my metal body. In my metal body the voices are inside my head, like I am speaking to myself, and they do not sound different from my own. Each and every voice sounds exactly the same. When I am not in my metal body they sound foreign and sometimes frightening, though I cannot say why I am frightened; I just am.

“Docking number?” the gruff voice demands of me.

Again, I remember that I must use words. I lean forward into the microphone. “GH-11G,” I say. My physical voice sounds so strange, though I cannot say why that is.  Why it sounds strange to me is, itself, strange to me.

“Oh…” the voice trails off. “It’s you. Same spot.” He cuts the communication line quickly.

Saturn looms in the distance, a dull yellow orb floating in a sea of black ink, trillions of asteroids and debris slowly but deliberately floating along the gargantuan rings with a purpose that I myself cannot seem to understand or find. I float along but it is not on account of something else more significant than me, but instead I float along despite me.  

I manually maneuver my metal body into the maintenance bay on the other side of the station. I see out of a side window a mechanic covered in grease, and he nudges a man beside him and they both cross their arms and watch as I float by, their expressions are unknown, hidden beneath sinister looking breather masks. Or what I might have once regarded as sinister.

I exit my metal body through the center hatch, briefly conjuring an analogy of myself giving birth to myself, wondering why I might think that. Wondering what birth was. I pace towards the greasy maintenance workers and they speak in rusty voices. “Plug her in then?” one asks.

“Yes please,” I respond and hand them a one-hundred note. They both nod at me and I make my way into the central hub of Rhea station.

The interior is cavernous, the layout a massive sphere with catwalks and platforms snaking their way up the sides, lit by small yellow lamps along the walls every few feet, some burned out and some barely glowing with the little determination they have left. The air is musty and I can hear a reverberation a few platforms above me: my destination.

Neon lights hang above the metal doorway, spelling out Babylon. The reverberating is louder as I step through, bulbous speakers lining the walls belching out thumping music in seemingly random spats. Very little rhythm. I didn’t like it, though I couldn’t remember what I did like; perhaps I used to like it.

I walk to the bar and sit on a metal stool with an illuminated seat that is now a clouded glow with the multitudes of bodies that have graced its surface. The bartender has thick grey hair on his cheeks, and I muse what that might feel like. I imagine my own hair on the top of my head and mentally place it on my cheeks and it tickles. I smile, and then I faintly remember having smiled before, but it has been a very long time. I don’t remember what made me smile the last time that I did.

The bartender looks at me and nods, standing still and awaiting my order eagerly, or maybe he is annoyed. He actually looks at me and his face turns away for a moment, seemingly considering walking away. He does it every time when he realizes that it is me and not just another greasy worker in from the docks with a thirst you could photograph.

“Brandy,” I spout before he can retreat.

“Preference?” He asks.

“Earth. If you have it.”  

“It’s twenty extra.”

“That’s fine. Thank you,” I say and he walks away and reaches beneath the counter, pulling out a bloated glass bottle and pours a glass. He returns, setting it in front of me. I hand him two twenty notes and walk away towards the corner of the bar, as far away from the pseudo-music as I can.

I sit at a small table near the corner. Two men sit ten feet away and I study them. One is wearing a pair of greasy overalls, his face faintly stained by soot, a clean imprint of goggles around his eyes. The other man is wearing a tailor-fitted suit, and he smiles revealing opalescent teeth. They seem worlds apart from each other, yet they laugh with each other like children, though I have never heard a child laugh, or ever seen a child. There are multiple empty glasses sitting on the table, and the greasy man accidentally knocks a glass on the floor and it falls, remains intact, and rolls gingerly towards my table. He curses and stumbles over and bends down to retrieve the glass. He stands and notices me sitting there. He looks confused at first and sways slightly. Then his face becomes a mixture of what appears to be hesitation and intrigue.

“You’re one of those fucking Ghost things aren’t you?” he asks drunkenly. “The fuck is up with you things anyway?” He giggles and puts his foot up on the seat of my chair between my legs and an unnerving smile spreads across his face. “I hear you aint even got nothing down there,” he motions between my legs. “You wanna show me eh?”  

“No.” I respond and look down at my glass.

He snorts and gives me a look of disdain, mumbles “fuckin’ freak,” and stumbles back to his table.  

I pick up my glass of Brandy and sip it. I feel a slight tingling in my cheeks. I prefer Earth brandy to Rhean brandy, though I cannot recall why. Maybe my real body did, or maybe this body was the first, though that is probably unlikely.

I sit in my seat against the wall in the corner and stare into the room, studying patrons and picking up on their social cues and mannerisms. A woman places her hand on a man’s shoulder, a man shoves another man but the other man is not upset and they are both smiling, a woman sits in the corner with her head in her hand, a man walks past eyeing her with what looks like interest, but it fades after a moment and he keeps walking, seemingly forgetting her. Another woman in filthy green coveralls and greasy hair is dancing near one of the speakers, doing her best to sway with the rhythm but losing her balance a little each few turns. Her eyes are closed but her mouth is turned up in a smile, and she looks content like she has managed to forget that she is even in a bar, or even in a station, or even anywhere really. Her hair is swaying with her but in a misguided way and it is weighed down by grease and perhaps time, but it still makes an attempt nonetheless, and I simply cannot help but think, in that moment, just how beautiful she is.   

I look away and back down to my drink. I do not spend enough time in this body, and sometimes I forget that this body and my metal body are very different. I cannot remember the last time I laughed, or cried, or felt joy or anger. This body is capable of these reactions, although I am gradually losing touch with them, I think.

After a while and two more brandys, I rise from my seat and exit the bar, and climb the catwalks spiraling around the central hub of the station to the top. There are multiple metal doors with small keypads lining the curving wall and I step towards one, key in a short sequence of numbers, and the door hisses open.

I walk inside to the frugal quarters I keep. A black synth-leather couch sits against the wall, a short elongated table in front of it, a viewscreen on the wall opposite. A tall but slender table sits against the wall with framed pictures on it, though I do not remember where or when I got them; they have always been there. There is a small kitchen with a sink, a microwave, and an empty refrigerator. This body can last a long time without food so I do not keep any.

There is a small bathroom off of the main living space. I undress, tossing my clothes onto the couch and I walk inside. I enjoy to shower. I like to take long, hot showers. I like when the mirror, the walls, the ceiling become blanketed with mist, and I like to run my fingers along their surfaces, wiping away the moist droplets with my fingertips.

I stand in front of the mirror and I peruse my body. I am human, I think. I am mostly human. I lack some physical characteristics, but I still fit the part, I think. I have hair, short and dark, I have green eyes, a nose, mouth, sharp cheekbones, a smooth chin. I have slender arms, fingers, legs, feet. I have a tattoo on my thigh: a kingfisher, a bird from Earth, I think. I do not remember where or when I got it, but the colorful edges are not crisp. It has always been there.

This body is so different from my metal body. It feels delicate, it feels fluid. The grace with which it can move feels too organic. I like being in my metal body. I like being in this body also, but I like being in my metal body more. Perhaps I am used to being a piece of machinery, though this body is also a piece of machinery, of a different sort. I know that I was not always able to have different bodies, though I cannot remember when, or why.

I step away from the mirror and turn on the hot water and step into the shower, and I let the hot water cascade over me like a distant lover, and I stand and wait for the room to be veiled in mist.

***

It is my birthday.

Not my before body’s birthday, but this body. My not-metal body. I do not remember how but I do remember that it is my birthday; it is like an instinct.

I am in my metal body now, floating in the dark of space. Seared steak.

The sensors of my metal body become my senses. Sight, sound, touch, taste, all a series of algorithms now, zeroes and ones. I feel much more in tune with these senses than my other body’s senses. My other body’s senses can deceive me, my metal body’s cannot. My metal body will not deceive me because it loves me.

I am in orbit above Venus. The station and the man in the crisp red uniform has again hired me to conduct a job that is unsuitable, or dangerous, for another.

I will my metal body to break into the atmosphere. It is hot, unbelievably hot, but not unbearable. It is like taking a hot shower. The warmth envelops me, searing my metal skin, but the metal skin protects my frail other body inside, like a mother.

I reach my intended destination, a crash site a mile south of Maxwell Montes. The landscape is scorched around the site, or perhaps only just more scorched than the rest of the planet. There is a long, dark skidmark in the soil: a road to ruin. The crashed probe sits half-buried in the Venusian terrain, a blinking red light atop it. I hover above the probe, my metal arm swiftly plucking it from the soil and placing it gently into my cargo bay, where it rests like a fetus.

I accelerate towards the atmosphere and break into the stormy Venusian clouds. Blue and violet lightning streaks across the yellow tapestry of sky in erratic spasms. A bolt sears the sky near me and I can feel the electric discharge on my metal skin. Euphoric. I continue to rise amidst the cacophony of nature striking its drums in the symphony of the universe.

The void of space beckons and I rise, closer and closer to meet it. A violet stream of lightning strikes my rear engine and I feel it cascade up my metal body, electrifying my metal skin, seeping into every seam, every rivet. It feels sultry, like a lover running their fingernails smoothly up the spine. Or at least what I imagine that might feel like. I might have felt it once. My heavenly ascent begins to slow, and a moment later I am completely still, and then I begin to feel the pull of gravity against my haunches, and I lose altitude.

***

My eyes jerk open, but there is no sense of panic. In fact, I am completely at ease.

I am warm, enveloped. There is nothing but a blue haze in my field of vision. I feel encapsulated, like I am in a womb. I feel protected, like my metal body protects me. But this is not my metal body.

I try to wiggle my fingers and they respond, though they feel sluggish. My sense of touch flares to life and I move my arm. Sluggish again. I move the other arm; sluggish. I soon realize that I am suspended in liquid.

I hear a muffled clank, and I feel suction at my feet around my toes. The liquid encasing me begins to lower, and I begin to feel cold as the warm liquid leaves me naked and I feel betrayed. I unconsciously begin to shiver. I want the warm liquid to return, to blanket me again.

I become aware of the tube jutting from the back of my skull as it knocks against the semi-transparent wall around me. Slowly, the wall begins to descend like the liquid, and I feel even colder. I grasp for the protrusion from the back of my head, instinctively reaching for the two securing clasps that link me to my metal body. But I do not feel like I am in my metal body. I am connected, but I cannot connect. I feel only my other body. The frail one.

I am suddenly aware of my surroundings, and they gradually become more familiar, but I cannot recall why. But I have been to this place before. That much feels certain, I think.

It is an elongated room, bathed in opulent light. The opposite wall is only a few feet away and I step out of my enclosure. There is someone standing against the wall. No, it is a mirror. The person is me, I think.

I pace towards the mirror, the figure matching my every step. I begin to recognize the features. My features. I know this is me.

Mostly.

I raise my hand to my face and trace the angular cheekbones, I touch my lips. They are incredibly soft. I run my fingers down my torso towards my thighs. Everything seems where it should be. My tattoo, the kingfisher, a bird from Earth, is missing, only pale skin where it used to canvas.

This is me, I think, or now perhaps wonder.

I become aware of a very soft beeping sound to my left, behind me. I turn my head and see a large window flush with the wall. I am no longer cold. I turn and pace towards the window and stand in front of it. There is another capsule like the one I just left, though this one is entirely transparent. Inside there is a human body.

Human.

It has hair, short and dark, green eyes, a nose, mouth, sharp cheekbones. It has slender arms, fingers, legs, feet. It has breasts, round and pale. There is a patch of hair running up the inner thigh. A connector tube runs into the back of the skull like mine. A maze of other, smaller tubes sit inserted into the forearms, stomach, and thighs. There is a tattoo on the thigh, but it is not a kingfisher, though it appears to also be a bird. I cannot tell what kind.

I stare at the figure with an infantile wonder. A small viewscreen sits embedded in the wall next to the window. The soft beeping I heard earlier is a heartbeat. This body suspended before me is still alive.

This body is me, but it is not me. This must be my before body.

I stand before my doppleganger and wonder how I can be alive twice, but somewhere inside of me, deep down, embedded, like an implant, I know. But it is like a puff of mist in my bathroom back on Rhea station. I try to grab ahold of it, but it slips through my fingers leaving only a slight film in its wake. I am staring at my fingers now, flexing them back and forth.

I stare back up at the imposter in the window. I continue to flex my fingers and I notice a slight, almost imperceptible twitch in the fingers of the figure in the window. I stop, and it stops.

I look to the far end of the room. There is an ivory colored armoire with golden handles sitting against the wall. I take one last inquisitive look at the figure in the window and I go to the armoire and open it. Inside are several monotone jumpsuits, and I pull one on.  The fit is practically tailored. There are pairs of shoes sitting in a row at the bottom. It is uneven, two pairs are missing. I grab a pair and lace them up on my feet. It is as if I am being guided by some unconscious force. I have no idea what I am doing, and yet I have every idea.

There is a door to the right of the armoire with a small keypad next to it. I hesitantly stand before the door. I key in the same code that I use for my room on Rhea station.

The door hisses open and I step through it and it closes behind me with a dull thud. There is no keypad, handle, or any means of opening it from the other side. A long corridor stretches before me, so I begin walking.    

[musingsofsaturn]

What are we waiting for?

Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation

Ship: The Enterprise Will Riker/Deanna Troi

Rating: T for descriptions of injury.

Words: 3,800+

Summary: A re-imagining of how my favourite space idiots got back together. Will is injured while on an away mission and Deanna questions everything that has led them to this moment. Basically just an angst-fest but I give them a happy ending because they deserve it goshdammit.

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! This is the first piece of fanfiction that I’ve written in a very long time, so I do apologise if I’m a bit rusty. I’ve been watching Star Trek TNG all summer long and have been wistfully longing for these two to just get it together and get together already. But since that’s not going to happen in-series, I’m just going to make it happen for my damn self. Canon? What canon? I don’t know her. But I hope you enjoy!

- Saturn

[Photo pinched from kirksfattitties]

‘What are we waiting for?’

She was on the Bridge when it happened.

It should have been a routine mission, investigating the planet’s surface for artifacts left by a long-extinct race. The captain had sent a small away team to the surface to explore, including a few science officers, Worf, and of course Will to lead the group. In constant contact with the Enterprise, they’d been relaying their findings as they happened - a piece of art here, an ancient tool there. Every new discovery caused Picard’s face to light up a little bit more; it didn’t take an empath to know that he was delighted with the discovery of an ancient civilisation’s history.

“Captain,” Worf’s gruff voice came over the communicator, “We’ve found a structure of some kind. It looks like it may have once been a temple.” The transmission sounded slightly fuzzy, as though they were losing signal slightly.

Authorative and clear, Picard praised his chief of security. “Excellent find, Mr Worf. Let’s see what’s in there.”

“Ackowledged.” Again, the transmition didn’t sound as clear as it should. There seemed to be some sort of interference.

The away team continued their exploration, and carried on detailing the various interesting things they discovered. The communicator signal kept deteriorating.

“Cap-” The transmission was breaking up so badly it was clipping some of Will’s words as he spoke. “There’s- ... kind of mosaic. I think- ... to see it-”

“Can you repeat that, Number One?”

“I sai-... mosaic in the tem-... Get down!”

Everyone on the Bridge tensed at Will’s sudden order to the away team. He’d sounded startled, almost panicked. Something had gone wrong.

Picard shifted forward in his chair, alert. “Report, Number One.” No one came in to respond. “Picard to Commander Riker.” Silence again. “Picard to Lieutenant Wo-”

“Captain-” Again, Worf addressed the Captain and the others on the bridge. “Th- ... under atta- ... Riker is injur-”

“Picard to Transporter Room Three. Can you get a lock on the away team?”

Deanna’s heart was in her throat, barely listening as the transport engineer responded something about too much disruption to beam them back. She knew that Worf had been trying to tell them the words she had dreaded ever hearing: ‘Commander Riker is injured’.

She had always known that their positions aboard the Enterprise came with a degree of risk. There was always a possibility that crew members could be injured, or worse. As such, she’d sometimes found herself imagining how she’d react when those words reached her ears. Would she be calm and composed, her every thought coming to her with perfect clarity as she came to a logical solution to his plight? Would she shut down, become a useless dead weight, having no way to help? Would she play the hero, demand to be beamed to join them, so she could fight and vanquish whatever foe had dared to hurt him?

And now that she’d heard those words, she knew the answer. She would panic.

“Captain, do something!” she all but sobbed, turning to the Captain. He ignored her, focusing on the task at hand, contacting various transport rooms, engineers, and of course the away team. How Deanna envied that focus, that usefulness, while her mind conjured hideous images of whatever and whoever had injured Will. A blade, a phaser, some awful weapon of war used to destroy and maim...

“Captain-” Worf’s voice cut through the panic swirling through her mind. “Every- ... stunned. We’re- ... way to some- ... less disruption- ... -mander Riker- ... medical attention-”

The message was badly broken up, but the Captain quickly interpreted it. “Picard to Transporter Room Three, as soon as you can get a lock on the away team, beam them directly to Sick Bay. Picard to Sick Bay, expect the away team any moment. Commander Riker has been injured. The condition of the rest of the team is unknown.” The people he’d addressed over the communicator quickly acknowledged the message. “Counselor, in my ready room please.”

She could hear her own heartbeat drumming in her ears as she followed his orders.

“One of the things I most value in your presence on the Bridge, counselor, is your composure.”

“I-”

He interrupted her, and she fell silent as he spoke. “We all know that serving with Starfleet carries a great risk. And I should think that nobody recognises the importance of a level head in an emergency as much as you do.” He stopped to allow her a chance to speak.

“Captain, I-” Deanna swallowed a lump in her throat, suppressing the urge to raise her voice as her fearful thoughts continued. “I apologise. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Well I do. And I need it not to cloud your judgement or interrupt your professionalism again.” She was going to ask what he meant by his suggestion that he knew what had come over her, but he continued. “I’m placing you on leave for the time being. You need some time to regain your focus.”

Deanna wanted to argue, but she decided against it. She recognised that this was not the time to disagree with Captain Picard. “Yes, Captain.”

“Now, let’s get to Sick Bay.” He placed a gentle hand on her arm as he led her to the door, comforting and guiding her in one.

~

When they got to Sick Bay, it was in a flurry of activity. Deanna heard Dr. Crusher confidently issuing commands to her team, as the medical officers ran back and forth with various devices and medical instruments. She saw Worf first, sitting upright, protesting to a medical officer that he was ‘fine, a warrior embraces his scars’ as she tried to heal a cut on his chest. One of the science officers from the away team was lying on a bed, silent and still, no one tending to him. Deanna realised with sickening certainty that it was because he was already dead.

From behind a crowd of medical personnel, she heard Will’s groans of pain. He was normally so in control and composed. She knew his pain must have been severe for him to so much as acknowledge it, let alone hiss and yelp as the medical officers worked on him.

“Doctor, report.” A path cleared for the captain to approach the bed Will was lying on, and Deanna followed. Will met her gaze, and she could see from his face that he was suffering a great deal. But he was alive, so she still felt relief flood through her.

“Just a moment, captain.” Beverly injected something into Will’s neck. His groans of pain slowly faded to small whimpers, before he fell silent. Deanna watched his limbs become heavy as the muscles relaxed. His head rolled grotesquely. “He was in a lot of pain. It was better to make him unconscious before we continued.”

“What happened?” Picard demanded.

Worf answered, “Sir, we were attacked while exploring the temple. I did not recognise the species. They didn’t use phasers, but they had many weapons. The commander was investigating something when they attacked him from behind. It was... not very honourable.”

Beverly went on, “His right leg is broken. He appears to have been beaten with something heavy that smashed the bones in three places.” She gestured to the corresponding places on his mangled leg. Deanna managed a quick glance, then quickly looked away. “His stomach was slashed with something sharp. I’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but it seems to be too deep to heal it quickly. I’ll keep working on it. He was also stabbed in the chest-”

A sob escaped Deanna’s throat at those words. It felt as though she, too, had been stabbed. She felt a hand on her shoulder as the captain tried to comfort her, then he gestured for Dr. Crusher to continue.

“The blade missed his heart by half an inch, captain. And the angle at which it entered the body enabled the left lung to be punctured.” As if to emphasise that point, Will sucked in a juddery breath. “It appears that he fell and broke his left wrist. That’s a clean break though, easily repaired. And whatever weapon was used on his leg was also used on the back of his head. His skull is fractured, but scans show no brain damage. A miracle really.”

In a small voice, Deanna squeaked out, “Is- is he going to be alright?”

Beverly took a deep breath. “I don’t know the answer to that, Deanna. We’re going to do our absolute best, but his injuries are very severe and his condition is serious.” She reached forward and took Deanna’s hand in her own. “I promise you that I will give him the best chance I am capable of.”

Deanna swallowed, and nodded slowly. She leant down, pressing a gentle kiss to Will’s forehead. He was caked with blood, and she could taste his sweat, but she didn’t care. She needed him to know that she was there.

Realising that there was nothing she could do to help, Deanna slipped away to allow the medical team to do their job. She left Sick Bay, and made it all of two steps before she slumped to the floor against the wall of the corridor, allowing her anxious tears to fall freely.

~

Hours later, Beverly’s voice burst through Deanna’s comm-badge. “Dr. Crusher to Counselor Troi, you can come and see him now.”

Deanna struggled to her feet, her aching joints protesting. She wasn’t sure how long she’d remained in that position, her back pressed to the wall, knees pulled tightly to her chest by her shaking hands. Her face was still damp from tears, but now her eyes and her mouth felt uncomfortable dry and almost prickly.

Beverly looked surprised when the doors to sick bay opened. Deanna felt the doctor’s concern when she realised that her friend had been waiting right outside the door all this time.

“I’ve stopped all the bleeding, and mended the bones as much as possible. Don’t look too closely at his leg; it’ll freak you out. You should know that he is still unconscious. It was the kindest thing to do given the fact that he is still injured. And I’ll need to run some neurological scans on him before I feel confident waking him up. Deanna, he looks sick. But I can tell you he’s probably in better shape than he looks.”

Deanna nodded in acknowledgement, and braced herself as Beverly led her to a private room off the main Sick Bay. She was grateful for Beverly’s warning when she saw him.

His face was ashen, and his hair was matted with dried blood. His shirt was off, and she could see the gnarled scar across his abdomen from where he’d been slashed. Thankfully the wound was now closed, but Deanna imagined that the scar would probably be with him for the rest of his life. The stab wound to his chest appeared to have been a cleaner injury. While there was still some scarring, it was rather minimal given the damage that had been done, and the line of it was straight, not jagged and rough like the other. While his lower half was covered with a sheet, she could see the outline of his legs. The right one seemed to be jutting out in unusual places. She took Beverly’s advice and didn’t look at it too closely. Will’s breath was unusually laboured and noisy, and for once Deanna couldn’t sense his emotions, no matter how hard she tried. For now, it seemed he was closed to her.

“Will.” Deanna’s voice cracked as she spoke on a whisper, moving to the bed to take his hand in hers.

He was normally so large, so jovial, so full of life. Now he looked small and frail. She raised the hand she was holding to her lips, and pressed a kiss to each of his knuckles in turn.

“I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She remained by his side for several more hours. Her deft hands stroked his forehead soothingly, gently caressed his shoulders, carefully brushed his neck in a way she hadn’t done since they were far younger. At one point she requested a bowl of water, and she rinsed the blood and grime from his hair and beard. As it dried, she brushed it tenderly, grateful for a task that made her feel she had some use.

She spoke to him too, reminding him that she was present. She spoke of little things she remembered from their lives together so far. Of poker games, kisses on Betazed, relaxed evenings in Ten Forward. Of comforting hugs, the boredom of personnel reviews, and teaching him to enjoy chocolate as much as she did. She told him of all the things she would miss if he did not come out of this okay.

“So please,” she whispered to him softly. “Please be okay.”

Sometimes she tried to read his emotions, tried to pass hers to him. Their telepathic link wasn’t as strong as it had once been, but now it seemed tightly closed. It made her eyes flood with tears to think that it might remain that way forever.

When Beverly came to check on him, Deanna stepped to the side, but kept a watchful eye over the proceedings. She saw Beverly’s frown as she took some readings, and sensed a feeling of concerned disappointment from her.

“What’s wrong?”

Beverly sighed, and met her friend’s anxious gaze. “I would have expected an improvement on these readings, but they’re almost exactly the same as they were eight hours ago. I had hoped to be able to wake him up soon, now it’s looking like I was getting ahead of myself. I’m sorry, Deanna.”

Realising she wouldn’t get a response from her silent friend, Beverly slipped out of the room, leaving Deanna alone with Will once more.

“You know what all this is making me realise, Will?” Briefly, she paused, as though allowing him a chance to respond. Of course, he didn’t, and Deanna went on. “We are absolute idiots.”

She took a seat beside his lifeless body, capturing his hand tightly in hers again as she continued. “I mean, what are we doing? I’m still in love with you, and you’re still in love with me, and we both know that, for gods’ sakes. You date other people, and I date other people, and it never works out. And why does it never work out? Because we don’t want it to! We constantly push away something that could be good, could be real, because it’s not what we want.

“Will, when I was waiting on that planet for you, slowly realising you weren’t coming, my heart broke. And it remained broken for years afterwards. You were the first man I ever loved, and I knew I could never truly get over you. Even when I thought I’d never see you again, I knew you’d always be a part of me.

“And then here I was, minding my own business, and then you came in and everything just came flooding back. Will, I’m so glad you’re here. You are my closest friend, my Imzadi, and I am so tired of trying not to love you to be professional.” Tears started to cascade down her cheeks. “I don’t care about being professional. I don’t care what anybody else on this ship thinks. I don’t care about any of it.

“When you came back, Will, I was terrified. I was so scared that you were going to hurt me again. But nothing could hurt me more than this. You could have been dead.”

She interrupted herself with a loud sob. “You could be dead, and I’d never see you again. And I never would have taken that chance, that chance to hold you, to kiss you, to love you. And that chance wouldn’t come again. I couldn’t live with that regret, I know I couldn’t. To know that I could have had you all to myself forever if I had just been brave, and to know that I missed out because I was scared. I was scared of rejection, scared of getting hurt, scared of looking unprofessional, and it just doesn’t matter!

“So for goodness’ sake, William Riker, what are we waiting for?”

She pulled his hand closer to her, breathing deeply. Stillness settled over the room.

In spite of her sombre surroundings, a wry laugh escaped Deanna’s lips. “There’s a chance that you didn’t hear that. And I’m going to have to pour my heart out to you all over again.” She took a breath to continue speaking, then stopped.

Deanna paused. Listened.

It was faint, so faint that it could have been a figment of her imagination, but it was familiar. She could sense Will.

As she continued to focus her attention on him, his feelings were growing stronger, clearer. She could feel that he was hurting, though not as bad as before. His leg was flooded with a dull pain, and every inhalation felt like a repeated stab. She knew that he was worried. About what happened, about his upcoming recovery. She could sense his anger towards the monsters that did this to him. To take him by surprise and attack him so violently, so viciously, so mercilessly. His response was a white-hot rage, fuelled by mild embarrassment that he hadn’t had his wits about him.

One thing was cutting through every other feeling she could sense from him. Love. Love for her, warm and sweet, and constant. In all these years, it hadn’t faded. She felt how it had burst through him when he first saw her again, and how it enveloped him every time he saw her after that. She felt his longing, his yearning for her, how many times he’d envisioned their future together. She felt his utter adoration for her as it coursed through his veins, blurred his every thought until his mind was just Deanna, Deanna, Deanna.

And then she felt his fingers twitch. Her eyes flew to his face to see as movement beneath his eyelids caused them to flicker slightly. His brow furrowed, and a quiet groan escaped his mouth.

Not looking away, Deanna cried out, “Beverly?”

Within moments the doctor hurried into the room, scanning Will’s body and head and looking to Deanna in shock.

“He’s waking up.”

“Is that dangerous?”

“It shouldn’t be. It’s just a sign that his consciousness is a bit stronger than I anticipated. It’s better to let him wake himself up now. I can knock him back out if need be.”

Another quiet sound from Will caught their attention, and Deanna hurriedly looked back down at his face, just in time to see his eyelids fluttering open. He blinked a few times, then his eyes met hers.

“Im-” He broke off, heaving a difficult breath. “Imzadi.” He was gazing at her with such certainty, such love, that Deanna thought it could have knocked her off her chair. She jumped to her feet, moved her hands to cup his face, and captured his lips with her own. His weak hand moved to wrap around her small waist as he returned the kiss.

She broke away, pressing her forehead to his as they kept their eyes closed.

“Imzadi,” she whispered. Relief flooded through her as she realised that he was really okay, and that they had the rest of their lives to spend making up for wasted time.

~

Two Years Later

She was on the bridge when it happened.

His recovery had been a gradual one, but Deanna had been by Will’s side to help him every day since his attack. Thanks to Beverly’s expert medical treatment and Deanna’s attentive care, he was almost fully healed physically. He walked with an almost imperceptable limp, and the scar across his stomach was fainter but still present. Deanna said it made him look rugged.

They were the only two people on the bridge, having taken the graveyard shift together. Normally only Data would take this shift, and the rest of the senior crewmen would be resting, but Data’s cat, Spot, had been unwell for a few days and he’d wanted to remain in his quarters in case anything changed.

Will sat in the Captain’s chair, and Deanna sat in his, acting as his First Officer. Their hands were entwined together over the console. They’d activated the screen in front of them to show them what was going on outside the ship, and sat in comfortable silence watching the infinite ocean of stars in front of them.

It was Will who broke the silence. “Imzadi.” Hearing the word alone was enough to flood her with warmth. “I’ve been thinking about something for a very long time, but I was worried about what your response might be. But tonight, I’ve been thinking: ‘What are we waiting for?’“

He smoothly slid out of the Captain’s chair and onto one knee, clasping her hand in his.

“Deanna Troi, daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, Heir to th-”

Laughing, she pressed her free hand to his lips to stop him continuing with the ridiculous spiel. “Just ‘Deanna’ is fine!”

He flashed her a mischievious grin when she removed her hand. “Deanna, I love you with all my heart, and I promise to protect, serve, and honour you for the rest of our lives and for whatever comes after. My Imzadi, will you marry me?”

“Of course I will.”

She pulled him to his feet and he wrapped her in his arms, pressing an elated kiss to her lips. It seemed that every moment in their lives up to now had been leading to this, and Deanna looked to the future with excitement.

~

The next day, as they proudly announced their engagement to their friends and colleagues, Deanna caught Captain Picard’s eye. She remembered something he’d said to her on that fateful day just a few years before.

“Captain, may I speak with you?” she politely requested once all the excitement and congratulations had died down. He nodded his agreement, and gestured towards his Ready Room. When they were alone, Deanna said, “After Will’s attack, when you had to give me a telling off-” They both shared a smile at the memory. It was funny now that years had passed. “I told you that I didn’t know what had come over me, and you said that you did know. And at the time I wanted to ask what you meant, but it slipped my mind.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t worked it out for yourself, Deanna.”

She took a pause to collect her thoughts. She remembered the sheer panic that had gripped her, the knowledge that the entire away team was in danger, but her mind was consumed with just one member of it.

Slowly, and with a soft kind of realisation, Deanna stated simply: “It was love. Love is what came over me.”