#nutrition pour force

[fitnessmith]

Programme force + conseils nutrition pour devenir fort

NOUVEAU 👉 Programme force + conseils nutrition pour devenir fort. Rendez-vous en bio @fitnessmith, cliquez sur le lien, fitnessmith.fr/news puis dans « les nouveautés» - Ou rendez-vous dans votre boite mail pour les fidèles auditeurs #musculation #podcast #fitnessmotivation #gym #abs #shredded #minceur #regime #nutrition #dietetique #alimentation #alimentationsaine #keto #cetogene #vegan #vegetarien #carnivore #workout #france #sante #musculation #powerlifting #force #entraînement #nutrition #musculationfrance #muscleup #gainz #forcephysique #programmeforce #bodybuilding #strongman #training #gymfrance #objectifforce #musculationnaturelle #fitnessfrance #renforcementmusculaire #programme6semaines #nutritionmuscle #développécouché #soulevédeterre #squat #forceetpuissance #musclebuilding #progressionforce #forceetnutrition #muscleetforce #hypertrophie #strongisthenewsexy

Pour développer rapidement votre force, il est essentiel de suivre un programme d’entraînement spécifique. Tous les types de musculation permettent de développer la force, mais pas tous dans les mêmes proportions. Si vous souhaitez gagner en force de manière efficace, il existe des programmes approuvés par les powerlifters spécialement conçus pour augmenter la force. J’ai effectué des recherches…

[sarnai4]

At the movies

Random thought of the day, go! What if the Greek god family had to go to a movie theater TOGETHER?

Hades - is buying the tickets. Nobody else brought a wallet because there's no way the god of wealth isn't treating. They're beyond the point of pretending to reach for cash or cards. He's beyond the point of expecting that. Hades = ATM

Athena - is desperately hoping that they watch something either intellectually stimulating or disturbingly gory. She's fine with the fact that knowing her family, it's probably going to be the latter. She will put someone in a permanent headlock if they suggest a sequel that's anything more than 2 or 3. She wants cinema. She also does not want loud snacks since those are impractical.

Ares - is voting for any action movie that's playing. Preferably, it's rated R so that it can be more accurate. He also knows that he's going to complain if the gore doesn't match what it does when he's fighting someone because the fight choreographers should "absolutely know what exploding guts look like, Athena." Low-key, he'll accept a rom-com too, but he'll deny it to his dying day and he's immortal so...

Demeter - is hoping for a disaster movie because it's funny when mortals try to show what weather is like. They never seem to get it right. She's getting an extra large order of popcorn because she's sharing it with Persephone. She also probably is getting a dozen more snacks for Persephone so that she feels like she's there too. #momoftheyear

Aphrodite - is trying to persuade everybody into watching the aforementioned rom-com or romantic drama with EXTRA drama. She knows some will be harder to convince than others. If nothing else, she wants to get some chocolates in the shape of hearts and hopefully see previews to some romance flicks.

Hermes - is storing food in his clothes. He has this big trench coat on that is the equivalent of a convenience store. This makes him Hades's favorite nephew/niece because he's saving him money. He wants to see a comedy and will be annoying if they don't see it (so that whole favorite thing is short-lived unlike them).

Dionysus - is trying (and failing) to sneak in booze. It might have worked if he didn't immediately start pouring drinks for everybody before they got their tickets wasn't so obviously intoxicated on the way in. He couldn't care less what they watch, but one of these days, it would be nice if they went to an actual theater vs just watching movies. *sigh*

Zeus - is flirting with the cute employees. No one is comfortable with this. He's voting for the raunchy rom-coms so that he can get ideas. The others are trying to prevent this from happening, but they also know he can just throw a tantrum and give the whole theater a power outage. So, they need to make a good argument for anything else.

Apollo - is hoping for a documentary about some doctor...or a musical...or a documentary about a musician. He can't decide, but he bugs everybody who's eating junk food because it is "sooo" unhealthy and "being immortal doesn't mean [they] shouldn't care about nutrition."

Artemis - is wondering why she has to be there. The outdoors is actually a door away and her family is forcing her to spend time in a dark room. They must hate her. She hates them right now and is grumbling the whole time. If there isn't an arrow in the movie, someone's getting an arrow in the side. She'll pull a name out of a hat and decide who.

Hephaestus - is really hoping it's sci-fi or something else with inventions. If it's about a real-life inventor, that would be cool too. Of course, he's not going to be paying attention anyway. He'll be too busy making the 100th alteration to the theater chairs and screen. He improves those every time he goes. The theater would hire him if he wasn't clearly doing all this for free.

Hestia - is feeling like she should be at the hearth. The theater is freezing. Luckily, Demeter and the war siblings got her extra blankets. She would like to watch a sentimental movie about a family, but the last time that happened, everybody else fell asleep.

Poseidon - is also flirting with all the cute employees. He's actually getting way more numbers than Zeus, which is quickly making things tense because he won't stop bragging. He doesn't care what they watch, but something set on or near the sea would be preferable.

Hera - is hating every second leading up to them getting in the theater room because of Zeus. She is the one who normally decides what the final verdict of the movie is because she's not giving him any more chances to flirt. By that time, no one's going to argue with her because her head is literally hot enough to fry an egg (Hermes did that twice and the results were delicious).

If you made it this far, thanks :D! Any theater headcanons you all have?

[jyotishdiaries]

Hi!~ 🫶🏾 I've been seeing your posts (which is amazing by the way) and I wanted to know what it's like having Rohini Ascendant and the career choices that is associated with it.

Thank you for the sweet words 🫶🏾 Rohini Lagna is such a beautiful placement. Let’s talk about it

Rohini Ascendant:

If you have Rohini rising, the aura you carry is naturally magnetic, grounded, and sensual. Because it is ruled by the Moon, this nakshatra gives a face and body that others are drawn to without even knowing why. People may describe you as gentle but commanding, charming but hard to read. There’s often something Venusian/attractive/luxurious about the way you move, dress, or express yourself even if you're not trying.

Rohini is associated with growth, beauty, fertility, and creativity, so it blesses you with a natural ability to attract and build. You probably love to create things, whether that’s through art, fashion, food, skincare, music, storytelling, gardening, or even a business. There’s a steady force in you that keeps nurturing and expanding whatever you pour your energy into.

But don’t get it twisted. Rohini isn't just pretty and soft lol. It’s ruled by Brahma, the creator. So people with this rising often have a strong desire to shape something real and lasting, something the world can experience. And since it’s a fixed nakshatra, there’s serious determination behind that sweetness.

Career Themes with Rohini Rising:

With Rohini rising, your career houses get activated in interesting ways depending on where your Venus sits and if it's well placed or not (since Venus is your chart lord), but in general, you’re naturally aligned with careers that involve:

Aesthetic sense – beauty, fashion, photography, design, interiors, makeup, modeling, curation

Creative arts – singing, music, storytelling, writing, acting

Nurturing roles – therapy, wellness, nutrition, Ayurveda, herbalism, feminine health

Building + managing wealth – finance, investing, real estate, entrepreneurship

Luxury & sensuality-based brands – perfume, skincare, high-end goods, experiences

You may also be great at attracting opportunities without chasing them. But you can be prone to sometimes getting too comfortable or not challenging yourself enough when things feel good enough.

P.S. People with Rohini rising are often envied without knowing it, so don’t be surprised if you pick up on weird projections sometimes. Just keep doing your thing. You’re literally here to embody abundance.

The more you lean into your Venusian side, the happier and more magnetic you’ll feel. Don’t hold back. Try new makeup looks, indulge in skincare rituals, wear that perfume that makes you feel expensive. Beauty isn’t just surface-level for you. It’s literally energetically nourishing.

Every Friday (Venus’ day), dress up in whatever makes you feel the most you. Make it a little ritual: feel good, look good, and move toward your goals. Rohini energy responds so well to consistency, beauty, and intention. You’d be surprised how much you can manifest by aligning with that.

Rohini rising = “Make beauty your business”!!

[dark-elf-writes]

A Hot for Teacher drabble? In this economy? More likely than you think.

I was reading through HFT and found a post about genma finding naru lost in the grocery store and it possessed me

Genma Shiranui was pretty sure the brightly colored package in his hand wasn’t actually food despite its many claims otherwise.

A glance through the ingredient list found nothing recognizable as something that came from nature, and he had major doubts that anything in that shade of orange the “food” was depicted as on the front was truly edible. He tossed it in the basket with his stack of instant ramen and energy drinks and swore to Guy’s ghost (not that he was dead, but speaking to his friend’s metaphorical spirit was far less exhausting than the enthusiastic lecture on nutrition he would get in person) that he would at least grab a premade salad before he left. He had just moved down to the next probably inedible and brightly colored package of junk food screaming for his attention when he heard the sniffle.

Genma frowned, looking at the package his hand was hovering over for a heartbeat too long before realizing the sound had come from below him. 

(He was still getting used to the whole “friends with single dads” thing. A part of him still wanted to look around for a responsible adult for himself, so the idea of being the responsible adult for someone else was a special kind of horrifying. That said, Genma showed up every time Guy or Kakashi needed a sitter even if the first time he had to look up how the hell he was supposed to change a diaper.)

The sight of familiar blue eyes, if bloodshot and rimmed with red from the tears that were pouring down the poor kid’s cheeks, was all Genma registered before a little body hit him with the force of a truck. His bad arm flew back to catch himself on the shelf, sending a painful twinge through his shoulder, while his good arm pulled his basket out of the way before a little head could slam into it.

“Naruto?” He managed through the pain as his brain finally caught up with who exactly the tiny bowling ball attached to his legs was. “Hey, buddy, what’s wrong? Where’s your dad?” That was, apparently, the wrong thing to ask as Naruto immediately burst into loud, body-shaking sobs.

Genma was an ex-soldier. He had stood calm under fire. He had taken a bullet and still dragged his battle buddy to safety before passing out from blood loss. 

He had a full two second panic when faced with a crying toddler.

Wrenching his panicking thoughts under control with an iron grip, Genma shifted the two of them until he was kneeling in front of Naruto, abandoning his basket to pet wild blond hair and whispering soft assurances as the poor kid cried. It took a couple minutes and a few repetitions to understand the word Naruto gasped out between sobs, but Genma eventually got the gist of it by the time Naruto had calmed enough that his sobs were more hiccups. 

Naruto had said he was too big for the cart, so Kakashi had allowed him to walk next to him while they shopped. Only Naruto had seen something that sparked his interest and wandered off, and by the time he remembered he had broken his promise to stay by his dad he didn’t know where in the store he was. Naruto had been looking for his dad when he had seen Genma and knew he would help.

Genma smiled and ruffled Naruto’s hair. “I’m glad you found me, kiddo. Now the two of us can find your dad, yeah?”

Fat little fists rubbed at those teary blue eyes so hard that Genma gently pulled them away for fear the kid would do some damage. “What if he’s mad?”

“Mad?” Genma asked, running gentle fingers under Naruto’s eyes to wipe away more stray tears before Naruto could start rubbing again. “Nah, he’s not gonna be mad. He’s too much of a worry wart for that.”

Naruto sniffed, and Genma mentally cursed himself for not carrying tissues as the kid ripped his nose on his orange sleeve. Some Uncle he was. “Promise?”

“I swear it, kiddo. Now c’mon, let’s find your dad.”

Genma shifted his basket to his bad arm before lifting Naruto up, settling him on his hip as he straightened from his crouch. Any discomfort from the weight on his arm was well worth it when Naruto rested his head on his shoulder. Even the thought of the toddler snot that was certainly getting wiped off on him didn’t bother him when Naruto let out a sniffly little giggle when Genma bounced him up into a more comfortable position.

It wasn’t the most comfortable carrying a still upset child in one arm while the other screamed in protest under the weight of the pitiful collection of junk that was Genma’s groceries, but Genma had been in far more uncomfortable situations. Being shot had a way of forcing perspective like that. 

In the end it wasn’t hard to find Kakashi. He was tearing up the main aisle like a madman head whipping left and right as he scanned the aisles. It probably would have been funny if he couldn’t see the near panic in his friend’s eye.

“Yo! Kash!”

Kakashi’s head snapped to him so fast Genma felt a twinge of sympathy in his own neck. He barely had the time to see one dark eye widen in recognition before his friend was there, abandoned cart slamming into a shelf hard enough to make the entire thing shutter at the force in his desperation, all but snatching Naruto from his arms and burying his face in wild blond hair. Naruto, whose tears had restarted the moment he caught sight of his dad, clung to Kakashi’s shirt and wailed into the dark fabric. 

The sound had attracted the eyes of the few people shopping at this hour, but a flash of a smile that was anything but friendly and a few pointed glares from Genma convinced their audience to suddenly find the nutritional facts of whatever was in their hand very interesting for the conceivable future. It was a bit harder wrangling Kakashi and Naruto down one of the side aisles, but Genma managed it. Saving the abandoned cart was far easier and had the added benefit of letting Genma put his own basket down as he steered with one hand. 

Once he had all three of them tucked into the most private space he could manage in the store he turned to his friend, frowning when he caught the rapid rise and fall of Kakashi’s shoulders and white-knuckled grip he had on Naruto’s jacket.

“Hey man,” Genma paused a few feet away when he saw Kakashi’s arms tighten. Right. Grounding first and comfort later. “You’re good. The kid is good too. He’s super smart, you know. Went straight to a safe adult and asked for help. Nearly scared me half to death when I saw him there, but he was real brave. I promised him as much junk food as he wanted before bedtime, so that’s probably not the best but I would argue that’s my right as honorary favorite uncle.”

Kakashi’s snort was more than a little harsh (and wet. Ugh, Genma didn't want to think what that was like with the mask) but his death grip on Naruto’s jacket loosened a little and he managed to pull back enough to glance up at Genma through his silver bangs. 

“Guy’s his favorite uncle.”

“Bullshi- cra- poop. Bull poop. Lee is his favorite cousin, and Guy is the person that makes Lee appear, that’s all.”

“Bullshit.”

“Hey! Little ears or some shit! Wait, fuck. I mean–!”

Kakashi’s huffed laugh was a welcome sound. Naruto’s muffled little giggle was even more so. Genma was batting a thousand here. “So, anyway, Favorite Uncle Genma declares that tonight is movie night complete with all the junk food we can eat without barfing. Don’t even try to argue. I know damn well you don't have anything planned for tomorrow, so all three of us are staying up past bedtime and bonding.” 

It was surprisingly easy to corral Kakashi and Naruto out of the store. Kakashi hadn’t even protested when Genma had paid for all the groceries himself, which might have been because he was far too busy glaring at anyone who looked at Naruto too long like an overgrown guard dog. He also didn’t argue when Genma snagged his keys and shoved him into the passenger side after buckling Naruto into his car seat which was a mercy considering lifting Naruto up into his seat and transferring the groceries into the back had done Genma’s shoulder no favors. He’d make Kakashi drive him back to his car in the morning… or text Hayate and bribe him into using the spare key to get it home.

Thankfully, Genma was around enough that Kakashi’s pack didn’t jump him immediately after he shouldered through the door with both sets of groceries hanging off his good arm. Even better Genma actually remembered where Kakashi kept the laminated paper with all of the dogs’ dinner needs so he managed to get all eight of them fed and watered correctly without having to break up the tangled mass that was Kakashi and Naruto on the couch. 

Eventually all three of them were situated on Kakashi’s singular couch (god he and Guy needed to see about getting the poor bastard more furniture that wasn't child-sized or a dog bed) with varying bowls and packages of candies, cookies, and the mystery orange monstrosity Genma had picked up at the store that Naruto loudly claimed as his favorite spread around them. There was even an age-appropriate movie droning on in the background that they all paid half attention to while hunting for their preferred snack. Sure, the amount of sugar and god knew what else all three of them were eating could hardly be considered a balanced dinner, but Genma was content in the knowledge that all three of them were fed without bloodshed or any more tears. 

He was killing this whole Uncle thing.

Naruto had dropped into sleep, snoring away from his spot sprawled across both of them, when Kakashi reached one arm behind the couch and flicked something light and flat over Genma’s head. It took some shifting to free his good arm enough to peel what turned out to be a heating pad off of his face.

“You fucked up your arm,” Kakashi accused.

“A bullet fucked up my arm. I just irritated it.”

That earned him a rude gesture which was rather merciful considering Kakashi’s usual gruff sort of love. Maybe Genma should let himself be a kid mattress more often. “Well you’re damn good at it, bastard.”

Genma laughed, stilling when Naruto shifted on top of him. When he was sure his living blanket was still out he shot Kakashi a smirk. “I’m good at a lot of things, I’ll have you know.”

Kakashi’s face did something complicated. “You are. Better than me.”

Suddenly Genma wasn’t so sure they were talking about being annoying anymore. He nudged Kakashi with his socked toes and narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re a good dad, Kash. I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”

“Even me?” Kakashi asked with a pointed look at Genma’s bad shoulder.

“I never said that I’d win the fight.” That earned him a snort, which Genma took as a win. “Seriously, Kakashi, what you’re doing is fucking hard. I can barely manage to take care of myself most days, much less a living breathing human being. Even if it wasn’t just you it would be hard. Everyone talks about how hard it is, that’s why they have those mommy groups and shit so you can drink wine and talk about how hard it is.”

“Actually they’re more–”

“See? You know! You give a fuck about your kid enough to know! This doesn’t make you a bad dad. Fuck, my old man forgot me at the store twice when I was Naruto’s age. Shit happens, and you’re the kind of smart that will figure out the leash the first time instead of the second.”

Kakashi’s kick was far gentler than it would have normally been either because the cold blooded bastard had finally grown a heart or because of the toddler still using Genma as a futon… probably the toddler. “Make all the dog jokes about me you want, but leave the kid out of it.”

Genma blinked. “I wasn’t!”

“Leash?” Kakashi pointed out with an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I was serious, asshole! They make like backpacks with fucking leashes or some shit. Better than the bracelet I had to–” Genma broke off as a thought occurred to him. Wait, hold on, you mean I was a leash kid, and Hatake ‘Dog Food Isn’t That Bad’ Kakashi wasn’t?”

Despite being friends with Kakashi for years, Genma still wasn’t entirely sure how the bastard managed to smirk with the mask hiding his mouth. What he was sure about was that it was fucking annoying to have aimed at him.

(Genma ignored the slight feeling of relief in his chest that Kakashi was back to his usual bastard self.)

“That explains so much about you.”

“Fuck off, you didn’t even know leash kids were a thing before now!”

“And yet so many burning questions about Shiranui Genma have been answered in one fell swoop!”

The renewed ache in Genma’s arm was well worth the sight of the orange monstrosity of a snack he had picked up at the store bouncing off of the skin between Kakashi’s eyes, and onto the floor. At least it was until the two of them scrambled to get out from under Naruto and to the mystery snack before one of the dogs could snatch it. 

(A few days later Genma showed up at Kakashi’s door proudly showing off the orange fox harness backpack much to Naruto’s delight, firmly solidifying himself in the position of favorite uncle.)

[drizzleoftherain]

Liturgia

Chapter 14: You're the Coffee That I Need in the Morning, You're My Sunshine in the Rain When It's Pouring.

Pairing: Ava Silva & Beatrice

Ao3

Author's note: We have Ava's concert this chapter. You'll know when it happens! Click the links and enjoy!

There’s a playlist and a mood-board.

Ava has left her little notes around her flat. 

Beatrice has managed to find the obvious ones easily enough, but Ava insists that there’s at least a hundred.

You’re the cutest person brushing their teeth right now.

(Inside the bathroom’s medicine cabinet.)

—

There’s a calmness to the fluorescent lit hallways of Madrid Airport, almost as if all the travelers have come to a collective covenant for peace and quiet, punctuated only by the music blaring out from the restaurants and the clanging of dinnerware as people down their late-dinners and imbibe in a drink or three. 

The mad hustle and bustle of departures is over for the night and now there’s just the lingering stragglers in the International terminal dragging their carry-on luggage behind them as they pace to their allocated gates, or those folded uncomfortably into the seats in the waiting areas.

Ava pulls the navy beanie, temporarily pilfered from Beatrice, more snugly down and around her head, sneaking a furtive glance at the bodyguard a few meters away that’s keeping a watchful eye on her until she boards the plane. Thankfully it appears that everyone else is too bleary eyed or stressed to notice the incognito celebrity in their midst.

Pulling out her phone, she sneaks a quick selfie before sending it.

Babea

{5072122.jpeg}

[What are you up to?]

[I’ve been looking for that!]

[Nothing much. I’m just watching Great British Bake Off while I wait for you.]

[I can’t wait to see you.]

{1041012.jpeg}

[Awww. Baby. You look so cute all snuggled up like that, like a Babushka doll.]

40 minutes until boarding. 3 hours give or take until she lands in London. Less than 4 hours until she can wrap herself around Beatrice again.

Ava can feel a yawn coming on. Exhaustion is weighing heavy on her face and body. It’s been a long day of concert finalisations, meetings with the studio executives and new outfit fittings. Any other time, she would have headed straight home and crashed into bed after hurriedly scoffing down some takeout and a quick shower. Instead, she’s on her way to London, desperate to see, touch, smell, just be, with Beatrice . Their first in-person visit after finally , finally choosing each other. 

[I can’t wait to kiss your freckles.]

[Counting down the minutes.]

[OMG.]

[The souffle!]

[Not the souffle!]

[Oh the humanity, Ava. They dropped it!]

Spotting the newsagent up ahead, she quickens her footsteps, sensing the bodyguard keep pace but with enough distance to not arouse interest. Perhaps she can grab a snack or two to keep herself awake until she’s on the plane. Perusing the selection, she grabs a bottle of vitamin water to balance out the chocolate she’s about to select, already hearing the nutritionist tutting in her head and harping on about nutritional, balanced meals being the foundation for success blah blah blah. She mentally pokes her tongue out as she secures the Toblerone. 

{5072123.jpeg}

[Hydrating. See? I’m being good]

[I can see the distinctive corner of Toblerone, Ava.]

Passing by the magazines and world newspapers, Ava ducks her head further down lest anyone make the connection between the figure in the navy beanie and baggy cream coloured cable knit sweater and boyfriend jeans and the face on the cover of Vogue España. She walks briskly past the display. That is until her eye catches on a familiar face. It’s Beatrice. Her girlfriend. Gazing alluringly out at her from the cover of Pitchfork . 

Beatrice is striking a power pose, seated on a chair, charismatically looking to the right of the camera, the black and white of the photograph highlighting the strong planes of her face. The magnetic force of Beatrice’s countenance and being unconsciously drawing Ava closer to the magazine. Surreptitiously, she reaches out to pluck a copy from the stand, mentally counting how many copies remain, how many copies remain for her irresistible girlfriend to attract innocent passersby. 

On second thought… maybe she should buy all of the copies so no one can see Beatrice oozing sex from a magazine stand. Ava mentally bats the crazy thought away. No… who would be that jealous and insane… she can control herself. And besides, what would she do with 20 copies of Pitchfork? Other than build a shrine to Beatrice… tempting but also asking for Alice to mock her endlessly . Before pivoting away, she blindly reaches out to grab another magazine off the rack, all the better not to attract focus to her purchase .

Keeping her head ducked down the entire time, Ava internally prays that the bored worker continues to barely pay attention, loudly cracking their gum as they lazily scan her purchases. Beep , water, Beep , Toblerone , Beep , Pitchfork, Beep , …Home and Country… Lovely . 

{5072124.jpeg}

[!!! Excuse me?! A little warning next time, please.]

[Oh! It’s out.]

[Grabbing your in-flight entertainment I see.]

[(>ᴗ•) !]

[(⸝⸝⸝>﹏<⸝⸝⸝)]

Ava can’t fight the jitters as the town car draws closer to Beatrice’s flat, her heart beating so loudly she’s half worried it's audible to the driver above the soft whine of the engine. 

It’s nearing 2am and all is calm in Beatrice’s quiet corner of London.

As the car draws up the final meters, its headlights sweep across the maisonette, highlighting Beatrice waiting, still as a statue, in the doorway to the stairwell, lit dimly by the exterior lantern above the door. 

Ava swings open the door before the car can even come to a complete stop at the curb, much less before the driver can exit to open her door for her. She hurriedly thanks the driver before she’s slinging her bag over her shoulder, walking briskly to the gate and swinging it open, fighting the urge to break into a sprint lest she look like a loon and the driver pays too much attention to the figure waiting at the door for her. 

Before she’s even cognisant of it, Ava is colliding bodily into Beatrice, burying her face into the warmth of her neck. She smells like home . In those few intervening seconds, Beatrice has bundled her inside the doorway, slamming it shut and clicking the lock into place before lifting her up into a tight squeeze. Her bag falling to the floor with a thump. There’s zero space between them, every inch of their upper bodies pressed together but it still feels like it’s not close enough. It feels like it’ll never be close enough.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you so much.” Their hushed tones overlapping as they murmur their sentiments, pressed into the other’s head.

Pulling back slightly, Beatrice noses a kiss onto the exposed tip of her ear, trailing kisses onto her cheek, whispering a quiet, “Your skin is so cold. You need to be wearing more,” before easing Ava back onto her feet. 

Finally, their mouths meet in an unhurried kiss, languidly pressing and slanting together, Ava’s left hand coming up to thumb at the hollow of Beatrice’s throat, fingers tracing along the tendons of her neck before cupping her jawline, drawing Beatrice down into increasingly fervent kisses. 

The urgency of their kiss escalates, teeth clashing together as they chase each other’s lips, nipping and pulling, intaking short puffs of air as they meet again and again. Beatrice now fumbling with an arm sliding up the banister, blindly pulling Ava with her as she slowly stumbles backwards up the stairs. 

Meanwhile Ava’s doing her darndest to distract Beatrice, tracing the tips of her right hand along the lines of Beatrice’s rib cage, a tremor wracking through Beatrice’s body in intervals when Ava hits a spot that makes her squirm. 

They’re getting closer to the top of the stairs now. Ava’s willing to make a bet they won’t make it to the bedroom, that is, until… until Ava’s own body betrays her. She can’t fight the yawn that crawls its way across her jaw, stretching her mouth wide open, in full view of Beatrice’s gaze. 

Shit . 

“You saw nothing!” Ava exclaims quickly, reaching forward with both hands to continue pushing Beatrice up the stairs. 

Sadly, Beatrice is nimbler and far more sensible, already shaking her head in response.“Nope. I definitely saw that,” while backing up out of her reach. Instead, Beatrice is now reaching forward to clasp Ava’s hand to walk her up the rest of the stairs, “Darling, it’s late and you need to rest. You’re exhausted.” As they cross the threshold into the living room, Beatrice is urging her forward with a warm palm at the low of her back, “Go on, I’ve already pulled out a set of pajamas for you and put toothpaste on your toothbrush. You should shower to get warm and get in bed. I’ll go grab your duffle and lock up.” 

Ava can only obey in rueful resignation, the yawns coming faster and faster now, her nose doing the sniffly thing. 

By the time she exits the bathroom with a puff of steam billowing out into the corridor, Beatrice is bouncing on her heels by the door, a glass of water in one hand, waiting impatiently, adorably, for her.

The beam on Beatrice’s face is contagious, her own face splitting into a wide answering grin.

She gets to fall asleep next to Beatrice tonight, not just to her small snuffles and snores through the phone . 

She slips her right hand into Beatrice’s outstretched left hand, Beatrice leading the few steps from the bathroom into her bedroom, the bounce in her gait a complete contradiction to the lateness of the hour. 

After placing the water down on the desk, Beatrice is sweeping back the neatly made duvet cover, smoothing down the fitted sheet and plumping the pillows, presenting the bed to her with a flourish, “My lady, your bed awaits.”

“Does it come with a beautiful girlfriend to snuggle?”

“Hmm…”, Beatrice is furrowing her eyebrows in thought, contemplatively tapping at the tip of her nose for a few seconds before brightening, “I believe you’re in luck your ladyship, just for you, it does.”

“It is to my liking.”

With a content sigh Ava is scooting under the duvet, laying down on the now familiar bed, breathing in the faint scent of Beatrice’s laundry powder, nuzzling into her pillow, and reaching out to pull Beatrice into her arms.

Now face to face, her eyes drink in Beatrice’s features, her heart giving an answering thump at being so close to this face, this person that she adores with her entire being. In a manner befitting the stillness of the night, Ava whispers, “I still can’t believe I get to call you mine. How lucky am I?” 

At that, Beatrice ducks her head, a slow movement of pink spreading across her cheeks, visible up close, even in this darkness. Beatrice replies with an answering whisper, “I’m the lucky one. Thank you for wanting me back. And being so patient… I love you, Ava.” 

“I love you.”

Cocooned together, Ava and Beatrice trade whispers, updates on their days, passing observations, and speak of their affections until their voices slur, their eyes close and slumber drags them under. 

And in the morning, Ava is woken by Beatrice pressing close, planting kisses down the length of her nose, the column of her throat and across her clavicle, hand fisting into her sleep shirt. The fog of sleep lifts instantly when Beatrice urges Ava onto her back, Ava’s legs moving apart to bracket Beatrice’s hips in answer. 

—

Be a badass. Do music world domination shit. 

(In her planner.)

—

(*)

You don't know, babe

When you hold me and kiss me slowly

It's the sweetest thing

Ava is humming a random tune as she prepares Beatrice’s morning pour over, waiting for the coffee grounds to properly bloom, determined to finally get it right this time and pour steadily in a circular motion instead of dumping all the water in one go. Beatrice was fanatic over the precise art of a good pour over and she swore Beatrice had a stray tear in her eye the last time she had forgotten to use the gooseneck kettle. 

You're the coffee that I need in the morning

You're my sunshine in the rain when it's pouring

Won't you give yourself to me?

Give it all, oh

“Is it ready?” Beatrice asks as she nuzzles into the nape of Ava’s neck, pressing a kiss into the bare skin beneath her ear lobe. Ava merely nods in reply, keeping a watchful eye as she mentally counts down the last seconds of the 4 minutes, waiting for the water to drain completely. Beatrice has just stepped back into the kitchen, briefly excusing herself after plating up their breakfast of scrambled eggs topped with chives and buttered shokupan, setting down the cutlery at the small dining table.

Barely breathing as she maneuvers the v60 onto a waiting plate, careful not to tip the filter and its grounds, Ava turns around to present the prepared cup of coffee to Beatrice with a flourish and an accompanying “Tadahhh—What’s that?” only to draw up abruptly at the sight of Beatrice holding out a small box adorned with a bow sitting atop her outstretched palms. 

I just wanna see

I just wanna see how beautiful you are

You know that I see it, I know you're a star

Where you go, I'll follow, no matter how far

If life is a movie, then you're the best part

Beatrice jiggles the box in her palms a bit, “A gift for you,” before nudging it onto her right palm and reaching out to accept the coffee with her left hand. 

It's this sunrise

And those brown eyes, yes

You're the one that I desire

When we wake up

And then we make love, yeah

It makes me feel so nice

Ava’s eyeing Beatrice carefully, tracking her minute expressions. She reaches out to undo the bow of the present before gently lifting the lid of the box. It’s her hair tie, or rather the jade flower of the hair tie, now also transformed into a bracelet. 

Beatrice is smiling her crescent-eyed smile, her freckles standing out in high relief in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. “I commissioned a bracelet that incorporated the jade flower for you. This way we can switch back and you can have the whole flower and I’ll wear the amber flower—” 

Ava is shaking her head in response before Beatrice can even finish her sentence, even as she’s stroking her finger against the smoothness of the jade flower. “No. Beatrice. This one is yours, please keep the jade flower safe for me. I want to keep your amber flower. It’s beautiful exactly the way it is. I want to keep you close to me. Always.” 

And then she’s reaching out to pull the bracelet out from the box, feeling the weight of it against her palm, the coolness of the jade flower and the silver of the bracelet before unclasping it to fasten it around Beatrice’s right wrist. 

The moment feels charged. Like the world is holding its breath for this second. The amber flower and the jade flower knocking into each other, rightfully next to each other. 

Then Beatrice is stepping into her, pressing a fierce kiss into her lips, conveying all her emotions into the one kiss. 

“I’m so in love with you.”

If you love me, won't you say something?

If you love me, won't you?

Love me, won't you?

—

You fill my heart like this mug fills with tea.

(Inside her favourite mug.)

—

“Cam’s on her way,” Beatrice says from the kitchen, tidying up the few items Ava had used to make their dinner. “I told her not to get dinner, she’s suspicious.”

“You didn’t spoil it did you?”

“Of course not.” Beatrice is walking into the living room and then settling on the couch behind her. Ava takes that as her cue to lean back against Beatrice’s legs, journal resting on her propped up knees. “Ava, I saw you add what was probably four cups of olive oil to our food, I am quite concerned for our health.”

“You worry too much.”

Beatrice leans forward, peering over her shoulder. “I thought the journal was a gift for me.”

“It is. And now I’m using it. Don’t worry, I am using my best penmanship. No chicken scratch for your journal.”

A little giggle escapes Beatrice. “Are you writing a song?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Show me.”

Ava shifts, blocking the journal from view. “It’s not ready yet. No peeking.” 

Beatrice doesn’t give up though, her hands already soothingly rubbing at Ava’s head and neck in an attempt to distract her. “Pleaaaase,” Beatrice pleadingly coos. And when that doesn’t work, a kiss is placed on Ava’s shoulder, which admittedly does distract her. “ Cherry? ”

“Hey!” Ava chastises, closing the journal. “Don’t be naughty.”

Beatrice settles back against the couch. 

The picture of Beatrice with a pout adorning her lips and folded arms in an attempt to appear grumpy is so tangible in Ava’s mind that she has to hide the small grin on her face. But the peace doesn’t last long because Beatrice is lazily sliding off the couch to sit next to her on the floor. “I promise I won’t look, I just want to be next to you”, Beatrice says with a comical over exaggeration of a frown, reminiscent of Alice when she doesn’t want to do something, no doubt having picked up a few tips from the best. Internally she sighs , she already knows she’s going to cave to Beatrice, weak against her pretend peevishness. But she can at least try to put up a fight . 

She tuts, too amused by all the pouting that Beatrice is putting on. “I know you’re going to look, at least have the decency not to lie to my face.”

Beatrice’s bottom lip is fully out now, she’s even throwing in a quiver or two, “I would never do such a thing” she says, now fluttering her eyelashes for the extra effect.

“Wow…” Ava exclaims dryly, “I see someone paid attention in her drama lessons.”

With that, Ava reaches out with her hands grabbing at Beatrice's cheeks, squishing them between her palms before hauling her in for a kiss. She feels Beatrice’s fake pout give way to a smile with an upturn of her lips. 

After a few minutes, she unwillingly extracts herself from the kiss, leaving Beatrice hanging midair. Camila is mere moments away, she has keys to the flat and Camila is definitely not above letting herself in if they don’t let her in within a minute of her arrival. On second thought… maybe they should scar Camila for life and preemptively ensure she never ever attempts a break and entry.  

Beatrice sits dumbly for a few seconds, eyes caught somewhere in the proximity of Ava’s mouth, before visibly shaking herself and opening the journal. 

It’s quiet as Beatrice reads through out loud, face impassive, apart from her eyebrows beginning to draw down, a crinkle forming as she continues.

“Down the subway, you looked my way

With your girl gaze

That was the day everything changed

Now it's something else

Even though I'm satisfied

I lead my life within a lie

Holding onto feelings

I'm not used to feeling

'Cause, oh, they make me feel alive”

“I… I don’t quite understand,” Beatrice is looking closely at her now, trying to figure out the lyrics and how it pertains to them, “Whose perspective did you write it from?”

“Mine.”

“Oh.” Beatrice doubletakes, before dipping her head to read through again, her lips moving along as she quietly reads to herself. The words sinking in. 

Beatrice is still. Her face is void of expression but a slight downturn of her lips betrays a sadness. Beatrice’s stillness is enough to unsettle her into action. “I was hoping you would sing it?”

“It’s your song. You wrote it. Don’t you want to sing it?”

“You know I can’t sing it,” she says, hoping that Beatrice understands. That she can comprehend the amount of pressure she’s under. To perform. To behave a certain way. “You can sing it for both of us?” a lilting tone to her voice as she poses the question. 

Beatrice doesn’t reply right away, she just turns the page of the journal, picks up the pen and begins to write. 

It takes a few minutes but the journal eventually slides in front of her. 

“Come here, my stranger in the dark

Don't need nobody in my arms

Got my imagination running wild

It's all that I can do

Lucid dreams, lucid dreams 'bout you

I've been searching for a lonely pleasure

Ever since that day, I'm not the same

But this kind of pain is kind of treasure

I won't take it slow”

Now she’s the one that’s confused. “Do you want to add this to the song?”

Beatrice shakes her head, pen moving again. “It’s my response to your song.”

“It sounds sad.”

“So does yours.”

“They don't need to be.”

“Because they’re pop songs?”

“No, because they’re our songs.”

They sit in silence again.

 Beatrice continues to write. 

She’s a little perplexed by Beatrice’s mood but enough to know she’s feeling a bit sombre .

“I remember the first time I wanted to kiss you,” She says, stopping Beatrice’s hand and sliding their fingers together.

Beatrice shifts closer, their hands resting on her thigh. “When was that?”

“You didn’t notice?”

Her girlfriend’s eyebrows shift for a second in thought and Ava’s right hand does something so natural now, it comes to the crinkle, smoothing it out this time beneath the pad of her thumb. 

Beatrice's eyes roam to the window by the baby grand piano. “By the window. The first snow.”

A smile effortlessly emerges at the memory. “I wanted to, yes. But that wasn’t the first time.”

“Tell me.”

“No. You tell me when you wanted to.”

“By the window. The first snow.” Beatrice repeats, sending little jolts up her spine. “Tell me.” Beatrice implores, eyes serious, as if it’s a revelation she’s been waiting for. 

Cheeky little. And she always gets her way. 

“ Down the subway, you looked my way… ” she sings, and recognition dawns on Beatrice’s face.

“I would have let you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

A moment passes where she recalls that night and the series of events that led to her standing inside her rental grasping at her chest. How unexpected Beatrice had been…continues to be. And then suddenly her brain attaches itself to a thought. Beatrice would have let her in the subway. Her girlfriend is telling a white lie.

“Tell me when you really wanted to kiss me.”

Beatrice covers her mouth and coughs, caught red handed. “I thought you wanted to by the window and I was too embarrassed to admit just how soon it was for me.” She turns, fully facing Ava now.

“I’ll let you get away with the lie this time, but only because you’re so endearing.” She bumps Beatrice’s shoulder when it doesn’t seem like she’ll say it. “Come on, tell me.” 

“When you stumbled in St. Dunstan’s.”

“You wanted to then?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Thinking about it now, I must have noticed or at least thought something was up. I remember feeling out of sorts but just thought it was due to my lack coordina—”

Beatrice leans forward, stealing a quick kiss. But that’s not enough, because it’ll probably never be enough. Ava sighs, palming Beatrice’s face and guiding her back to her mouth. Eventually, pulling apart but just enough to breathe again. 

“Making up for it.”

“Oh well, in that case I have a few to make up for as well—”

The doorbell rings. 

Beatrice scrambles up and pushes the door to the living room open, her quick thumps down the stairs the only indication of her hurried steps to unlock the door for Camila downstairs.

Ava waits for them at the top of the stairs. Camila looks harried, out of sorts, curls not quite landing where they usually do. Her chest is puffing out erratically as if she’s outrun a potential murderer. 

They climb the steps quickly and Camila pulls her into a bone crushing hug. 

“I’m sorry I took so long!” Camila’s voice involuntarily rises as she speaks, still weirdly jumpy.

Beatrice delicately pushes them both inside the flat all while in the middle of this very long hug. “I did think you were taking longer than usual, everything okay?”

“When I got off at your station there were a few fans waiting for their train and they recognised me. I stopped and spoke to them for a bit, but got concerned that they might follow me out of the Tube. I kind of chose the opposite direction and ran all the way here while making odd turns. I don’t think they actually tried to follow me but I was just worried about it. I know you’ve been having trouble on your morning runs and I didn’t want to lead them here.”

Beatrice freezes. Completely still. Eyes sharp as she eyes Camila as if telling her off. Panic is emanating off her. 

Hmmm.

“Cam, what do you mean trouble on her morning runs?”

“I mean the fans that have been stopping her when they see her and following her during her exercises.”

“Beatrice.” Ava enunciates her name crisply, an icy tone to the syllables.

Beatrice audibly swallows and Camila must clue in as well with her eyes as wide as saucers.

“SO!” Camila exclaims loudly. “Beatrice I have a bone to pick with you!” Camila swings towards Beatrice, already gesticulating wildly. “You know Ava and I were meant to madly fall in love with one another? Ignoring the pesky issue that I’m not into girls but I could see myself… for Ava.” Camila pauses for a second, attempting to read the atmosphere. She must see the silent communication happening between Beatrice and herself, she knows her eyes have narrowed and Beatrice is cowering because Camila forges forward. “Ava, I cannot believe you would fall for an anti-fan. Did you know she prohibited us from listening to the Top 100, including you? But don’t worry, we all did behind her back—.” 

“DINNER! DID YOU KNOW AVA MADE YOU DINNER!?” Beatrice is yelling her words, struggling to drown out Camila, pivoting on her foot and making a break for the kitchen. “DARLING. What was it called again? Sal—sal—.” 

“You made salsa!?” 

“SALMOREJO. I made you Salmorejo.” Ava shoots out her hand to grip at Beatrice’s hoodie sleeve, keeping her in place and leaning closer, “This conversation is not over.” 

Beatrice whimpers. 

—

I miss your cuddles. 

(Inside her pillow.)

—

Beatrice has been standing in the oddly warm hallway of Ava’s apartment for what feels like an eternity. Or it could be the layers she has on, or the nerves, or honestly anything. The building is old, having lived through various fascinating historical moments. And this is the first time she’s had a chance to truly appreciate its architecture from both the streets outside and from within as she ascended the stairs, the previous visit not allowing for such musings. 

It’s not a building that immediately screams Ava the singer’s style, modern and slick, but then again, she’s been wrong about Ava before and has quickly learnt Ava Silva is not what she projects to the world. From the little she had seen of Ava’s apartment and especially her office, she liked old things. Art frames hung above a well loved upright piano, a small lamp on the left the only source of light at the time in the office. The bathroom and kitchen are filled with well worn and loved pieces. The rest of the apartment was a mystery that still needed to be discovered.

According to her schedule, Ava’s final tour meeting should have been over an hour ago but chances are the team has gone out for a celebration dinner, something she should have accounted for or at least texted Alice about, but this is meant to be a surprise and she wasn’t about to spoil that even though the time on her watch was quickly counting down to her own schedule that she needed to make.

Ava is not expecting her. This thought is sending a mixture of emotions through her. Anticipation. The excitement of getting to see each earlier than planned is filling her heart with hope. Hope that they can make this work. That their relationship can withstand the frenzy that will be the both of them on tour, a notion that fills her with trepidation if she lingers on it for too long. Beatrice knows it’s still too early to call and things will change, but she is hopeful. They will both be in Europe in the beginning but as their tours take them to separate parts of the globe it will become much more difficult to schedule calls, keep on top of video dates or fly to one another. It’s something she will need to work hard at, and keep on top of. For both herself and for Ava.

The last minute cancellation of their SNL appearance was a fortuitous gift, meaning that she was now free for the next few days and able to come to Madrid. Something Suzanne had allowed provided that she was back in London on Monday morning at 9am sharp and ready for the last stretch of rehearsals before the holiday break.

Ava’s neighbour has come out twice now, inquiring who she was and why she was loitering in their shared hallway. She pretended not to understand and basically pulled out Google maps more than once to show the lady she was clearly looking for an address, but to no avail. Any minute now she half expects her to chase her away with a broom in hand. She can hear the shuffling behind the door at the far end of the hall, which means the nosy woman is looking through her peephole again . Not learning a colourful word in Spanish is a big regret right now. That and she’s much too polite to swear at a total stranger.

The heavy double doors swinging open downstairs echoes up, announcing the arrival of people. Beatrice chances a look down the spiraling stairwell from the top level, heart drumming in her chest in the hopes that it’s Ava. When she spots a blonde bob first, her mind races because it’s maybe Alice. It’s Alice. And then Ava comes inside, she’s wearing a brown plaid suit jacket with a cream knit sweater dress and has her hair down, those beautiful love curls cascading down her back. The sight of Ava, mere moments away from her, is too endearing a sight and looking so devastatingly good to put into proper thought.

“—I told them I didn’t want to wear the sheer one anymore. Can you have the team order more of the vest with the rose embellishments? Maybe black and red? I definitely want red. Maybe we can do something like I did for Lollapalooza.” Ava’s voice continues the conversation as Alice and her linger at the base of the stairs.

“You liked the leather jackets though, right? Because it’s too late to go back on those. I know they’re cropped, but—”

“Yeah, those are the aesthetic so I’m definitely still wearing them, but I’ll add lycra underneath.”

Alice grips the banister and begins to take a few steps up followed by Ava, who’s looking down as she climbs. “Look at you! So grown up, there’s a literal tear coming out of my eye,” Alice fake sniffs a couple of times to be annoying.

They move swiftly, having done this often enough that it has to be second nature by now. The cadence of their steps familiar with every imperfection of the stairs and odd grooves of the shaky banister.

“Alice, you’re such a pest. It’s going to be cold. It’s already cold!”

“Uh-huh. Sure, that’s why we're suddenly changing a lot of the tour looks…the cold weather.” Alice stops ascending the steps as she makes eye contact with Beatrice and smiles. She turns back to look at Ava who is still absorbed in conversation, not looking upwards in Beatrice’s direction. 

“I’m not owning up to it, I know you’ll gloat for all eternity if I do.” Ava’s voice turns mocking, an overexaggerated attempt at an English accent, “Your girlfriend has you absolutely hen-pecked, Ava. You can’t even come to a decisions about your hair without taking her into accoun—”

“Where did you say Beatrice is?” Alice has come to a complete standstill on the stairs, waiting for Ava to realise.

Beatrice is waiting at the stop of the steps, smiling from ear to ear, counting down the seconds until Ava notices. Stomach doing little swoops every time Ava takes a step without looking.

“On a plane to New York. We won’t get to talk until tom—” Ava stops, finally making eye contact. It takes her a couple of seconds to actually register what she sees. Taking in that it is in fact her girlfriend standing just a few paces from her. Ava’s grip on the banister is released with so much force that Beatrice is sure Ava used it for forward momentum as it rattles slightly upon release.

Ava doesn’t say anything as she reaches the top of the steps, body crashing into Beatrice’s own. The silence stretches for so long that it’s a bit concerning. That is until Ava’s arms wrap tighter around her neck and a heavy contented sigh escapes her. “You’re really here.”

“Hi, my love,” Beatrice says, wrapping her arms impossibly tighter around Ava. 

“Beatrice,” Ava breathes into her neck. “How? When did—? What happened to New York?”

“SNL cancelled. I got on the first plane here.”

“How long?”

“I have to leave early Monday morning.”

“Four days!”

“Yes, four days.”

Alice clears her throat, breaking them from just how close both their faces have gotten. 

Ava’s face lingers in proximity, pondering something but thinking better of it. “You’re mine for four days?!”

Beatrice places a quick peck on Ava’s cheek before stepping back to a friendly distance, replying with, “I mean, I’m already yours.”

“Okay, foul…I’m leaving. Clearly, team gossip has been cancelled and I’m about to have four days to myself! I wonder what I’ll do first? Maybe update my list of names, move a few around as they’ve changed in priority…finally water that one cactus in the corner of the living room before it screams ‘feed me, Alice!’…make a beef wellington, an arduous prospect to be sure but a delicious end result nonetheless…the possibilities are endless it seems, but I’ll be forthright. I’ll probably just lay in bed and think about life and its complexities before realising I don’t have time to have an existential crisis and then get up and have crisps,” Alice says in one swift breath, before reaching into her bag and throwing the keys to Beatrice who almost misses them. Ava and her just kind of stare at one another following Alice’s monologue, shrug, then turn back to Alice who makes a nauseated look before swiveling to head down a few steps. “Use protection!” she yells from a flight of stairs down, her steps echoing in the space.

Ava lets them inside the apartment, fingers interlaced tightly with Beatrice’s. The door closes behind them, backpack drops directly on the floor, and lips meet hers. It is sensory overload within seconds. Ava’s fingers eagerly pulling at the blouse from the neat tuck in her pants, seeking skin quickly, almost too quickly. Her lips are only being released to gain access to her neck. 

“A—Ava not the neck, not the neck!” 

Ava whines in response, but adjusts herself to just leaving behind open mouth kisses instead, panting against her skin. 

Beatrice winds her arms around Ava’s waist, pinning her arms to her sides and holding her in place. Pulling her lips back from their inspection of Beatrice’s neck Ava asks, “Why are you containing me?”

“I have a meeting in…” Beatrice releases her left hand from around Ava to look at her watch, “Eight minutes.”

Ava’s face drops slightly, a cute pout emerging, “You come with conditions. I should have known!”

Beatrice leans down for a kiss, hand stroking along Ava’s smooth cheek afterwards. “Just for an hour. The band and I need to look through and do final approvals for the concert interludes and backdrops. And afterwards I promised our stylist I would look through outfits. They’ve given me a three ring binder and everything, it’s all very serious.”

“Fine, fine.” Ava pushes off her, “I’m going to shower. Did you want to go into my office for the meeting?”

“Any flat surface will do.”

Ava is tugging her in the direction of the dining room, lights turning on, purse thrown onto the table without a care. “Is this okay?” 

“Perfect, thank you.” 

Returning to the entryway, Beatrice is toeing her sneakers off, setting them neatly by the door before picking up her backpack and heading back towards the dining room. 

Beatrice pulls her laptop out of the backpack, setting it on the table. The device springs into life as she turns in every direction looking for an outlet, cable in hand. Ava glances at the plug and chuckles before giving her a look, like she can’t believe something like this is about to unfold before her. “Do you have a converter?”

“Do I have a—” Of course. How could she have forgotten this? “No…no I do not.”

Ava walks away, taking a right into her bedroom. 

She hears rustling for a few seconds. 

“Baby?” Ava calls out and she has to physically fight the smile that takes over her face. Lilith would be mocking her right now if she knew of the pet name she was growing way too fond of. She wouldn’t tell Ava that detail though, lest she use it in a public setting. 

It feels a little strange coming this deep into Ava’s apartment. The only other time she has been here they weren’t exactly on the best of terms, both in a state of tears. 

Her eyes catch a few framed photographs hung up along the wall. Plenty of Ava and her family at huge gatherings, a young Ava encircled in Emilia’s arms, there’s one of Alice asleep with marker all over her face and Ava sticking her tongue out - no doubt the culprit, and one of just a woman in her 20’s. She looks like Ava and this is clearly Ava’s mother, hair long and curly just like Ava’s currently. Interspersed in between the rest of the frames there’s two of her and Ava, one on the couch and the other of their time in Ithaca, New York.  

The shut balcony shutters and the bed are the first sights that greet her, the latter neatly made. Suspicious behaviour. Ava is crouched on the other side of the bed by the bedside table, drawer open. A drawer that is bursting with cables and plugs. The shame drawer.

She walks around and crouches down next to Ava. “Need some help?”

“Which one do you think?” Ava holds up two white cords, both exactly the same. 

“I think I just need this bit here,” She points at the end of the plug before removing it with one quick pull. 

“Oh.”

Beatrice's eyes trail upwards to the top of the bedside table where Ava has placed the picture frame of them together at rehearsal. Ava notices where her eyes have landed. “I have to restrain myself from kissing it every time I see it.”

“Me too. It’s basically the first thing I see when I wake up and fall asleep.”

Ava stands, smoothing her hand along her dress, “I’m going to shower. Would it be okay for me to come sit next to you afterwards?” Ava is being cautious. This isn’t a simple question. Ava wants to know if she can be around when the band is around. “I can get some work done while you guys do your thing…I just want to be near you.”

“Of course. The band wants to say hi by the way. Actually, it was expressed several times before I left that they wanted to see you. Especially Camila, even though I’m sure you guys are up to something behind my back.” Beatrice hopes that it conveys just how much it means to her for Ava to interact with the band members, to be comfortable with them again. 

“Good. I want to see them as well.” Ava smiles, pulling her in for a hug. “Also, Camila and I are always up to something and that should scare you.”

Beatrice is deep into her meeting when Ava emerges from the bedroom wearing sleep shorts and a colourful knitted sweater. The voices from her bandmates fading into the background at the sight of how soft her girlfriend looks in her sleepwear.

Ava deposits her laptop beside her own, turning to plug the cable behind them. She hopes her incessant need to blink in stunned silence doesn’t convey the thoughts going through her head as Ava’s laptop wakes, if you could call it that , in front of them. The thing is barely holding it together. She’s pretty sure the thing just entered the BIOS screen in a cry for help. She tugs one of her headphones off and muting herself, “Do you…umm…have an antivirus?”

“Beatrice, I don’t even let it have access to the wifi. You never know which little rodent is scouring around for unreleased material.”

Ava is looking like she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself, so Beatrice unplugs the headphones from the laptop and loops her arm around Ava’s waist in one swift move, pulling her close enough for the camera to capture them in shot 

“Ava!” Camila shouts upon catching a glance of her.

Ava waves a little awkwardly before finding her voice, “Hi Cam! Hi guys.”

They all greet her happily and without realising it, they’ve all crowded towards their screens.

Beatrice pulls the chair beside her closer and Ava takes that as her cue to sit.

“Ava, blink twice if she’s holding you hostage!” Mary teases.

They burst into laughter and something settles deep in Beatrice’s heart. The band is okay with this. Ava is okay with this. Everything is okay. Ava and them can exist together. And she knows it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t so, but just knowing that everything is okay has her releasing a mental breath.

“Hey Ava, on a scale from 1-10 how ridiculously lovestruck would you say Beatrice is?” Lilith asks with a bit of smugness. Yup, it’s exactly as she suspected, Lilith was going to mock her to death.

Their eyes meet briefly, Beatrice shrugging, before Ava answers. “Maybe like a nine?”

“A nine?!” Beatrice yelps, outraged at the injustice.

“If I say ten then you have nothing to work towards.”

Mary laughs. “That’s right babygirl. You gotta keep her on her toes.”

“Beatrice, you didn’t tell us you guys were this cute. You’ve been hiding a whole rom-com!” Yasmine dogpiles on the torment at her expense.

“Ava,” Lilith calls out, catching Ava’s attention. “Look, I like you. But if you hurt Beatrice, I will know and I will show up with a shovel and good alibi. And then I’ll probably write a murder song about it and join the greats like ‘ Goodbye Earl ’ and ‘ Miriam ’”.

Everyone is eerily silent afterwards. Even Lilith who is looking intensely at the left corner of her screen where Beatrice’s assumes is where both Ava’s and her face are.

“Did I—” Ava stutters, “Did I just get shovel talked…by Lilith?! That was so cool!”

“Don’t worry, Ava, I will handle Lilith!” Camila assures, hand stretching off screen and then smacking at Lilith’s head in Lilith’s camera view. 

After a few more minutes of joking at her expense, Ava stands, giving them all a quick wave before walking towards the kitchen. They resume their conversation from before Ava’s arrival, Yasmine sharing her screen as the interlude from ‘STFU’ plays. They’ve decided to open the song with the scene from the beginning of the MV where the actor is mockingly transgressing through several stereotypical racist remarks. 

Ava returns a few minutes later, balancing a plate of cut vegetables, two slices of Spanish tortilla and a cup of tea in her hands. An action so cute and unexpected that she has to shift out of the camera’s view to tug Ava into a hug, head nuzzling into her tummy.

“Eat,” is all Ava says, hands running through Beatrice’s hair before lowering herself for a kiss.

“WE CAN HEAR THAT!” Lilith shouts and they all cackle.

She’s halfway through the three ring binder, showered and in her pajamas when Ava begins to act up. If she’s being honest, she’s already astonished by Ava’s restraint. It’s taken longer than she expected. She’s surprised she even managed to get through half of the outfits or that Ava’s patience has stretched this far. 

Ava walks behind her, pulling her sweater off and throwing it on the chair beside her, but Beatrice won’t give in, or at least won’t give in that easily. She needs to even out the playing field so she continues to work as Ava starts rummaging about. There’s a little exasperated sigh sounding from the bedroom which she elects to ignore.

Beatrice can hear Ava as she walks through her bathroom and into the kitchen. She pokes her head back carefully, peering into the hallway where she can see Ava walking into her office barefoot and only wearing one of Beatrice’s white dress shirts. 

Ava is up to something.

(*)

Low brassy notes that sound a lot like a ship’s horn emerge from the office.

Ava steps out the moment the nasty beat drops, one foot first followed by the other shortly after.

Get the fuck up, Simon says get the fuck up

Throw your hands in the sky

Queens is in the back sippin'

Yak y'all what's up?

Ava doesn’t make eye contact with her as she ever so slowly walks towards the dining room, hips swaying lewdly. Beatrice actually loses her balance for a second with just how far she’s leaned back with the chair, flailing her arms wildly to regain balance. There’s a loud clunk as the chair comes back down, hands coming down to delay her momentum against the table. She forces her head to look at the outfit on page 37 of the binder. Determined not to look at Ava’s approach. Page 37 is a beautiful Givenchy ensemble that is unfortunately…not as interesting as her girlfriend.

New York City gritty committee, pity the fool that

Act shitty in the midst of the calm, the witty

Ava comes bodily against her in order to grab the plate next to the laptop. Their eyes lock, a subtle smile curving Ava’s lips—knowing full well the effect she was having on Beatrice’s concentration. Without saying anything at all Ava turns deliberate and unhurried towards the kitchen. 

The Universe is testing her. 

And most importantly Ava is testing her.

You all up in the Range, then your shit's inebriated

Phased from your original plan, you deviated

I alleviated the pain with a long-term goal

It’s not at all a surprise that her eyes follow Ava’s bare ass as she walks away with the same strut as she did walking over. Unable to look back down at the binder. 

Of course . 

The tap runs for all of two seconds.

I'm soon to motivate the room, control the game like Tomb Raider

Roc-clock dollars flip, tips like a waiter

Style's greater, let my lyrics anoint

If you holdin' up the wall, then you missin' the point

Ava is coming back and this time Beatrice is prepared. She will not let Ava best her. She quickly stands, affecting a casual lean against the dining table, arms crossed, anything to keep her thoughts and hands at bay. There’s a moment of confusion as Ava steps back into the room, Beatrice not where she had left her, but then their eyes meet again.

Ava opens her mouth to speak the next lyrics. “Get the fuck up. Simon says get the fuck up.” Except Beatrice is already up, an eyebrow arched teasingly.

“You know…this song is very inappropriate,” she leads them into a conversation knowing it would absolutely exasperate Ava.

“But it’s so sexy .”

Ignorant minds, I free 'em

If you tired of the same old everyday you will agree

I'm the most obligated, hard and R-Rated

Stated to be the best, I must confess the star made it

Ava makes a move forward and Beatrice holds her hands up, halting her midstep. The moment stretches unbearably long and she can see Ava begin to lose her composure. “I didn’t say Simon says, Ava.”

Ava’s eyebrows shoot upwards, “Oh?”. A dangerous smile now curving its way across her face.

Beatrice is the one to step closer now. Hands coming to rest on the buttons of the dress shirt, but not undoing them. She begins to think she should unbutton the buttons but then a wicked thought comes to her instead. “Simon says, undo one button.”

And Ava does so right away, almost like she expected Beatrice to say that. “Just one?”

“Mmhmm.” 

It’s enough to already free Ava’s collar which means she hadn’t bothered to button the shirt all the way. 

Beatrice brings her lips down to Ava’s neck, feeling the gulp the moment her mouth makes contact with the warm skin there. 

Ava’s hand comes up to the other buttons but Beatrice quickly grabs her hand, holding it in place. “I didn’t say Simon says. Are you going to play the game?”

Ava exhales, “Yes—yeah I’ll play.”

“Simon says, undo the rest of the buttons.” Ava obediently does as she’s told and there must be a glint in her eyes with the reveal of the bare skin underneath because Ava’s fingers come to toy with the hem of Beatrice’s sleepshirt. Simon didn’t say, but she’ll allow it. “Simon says, take off the shirt.”

The dress shirt slides languidly down Ava’s shoulders, pooling on the floor by her feet. Beatrice’s eyes sweep along the expanse of her girlfriend’s body, a sight that scatters all her thoughts within seconds. They all converge back and culminate on one thought and one thought alone. 

Beatrice doesn't really know how much longer she can bear to extend this foreplay before the actual foreplay can begin. 

Ava’s chest rises and falls. Waiting. Anticipating what Beatrice will do and when the seconds draw out and nothing happens she pleads, “Please touch me.”

A wicked grin spreads across her face. 

Mission successful.

Without much fanfare, Beatrice tugs her own pants off followed by the shirt and Ava audibly moans. She steps to the side of Ava, careful not to make contact. Then, she walks briskly into the bedroom, quickly enough that Ava won’t be able to react in time or fast enough that Ava won’t get a chance to slap her ass.

But this is Ava and she should have anticipated it because the moment she reaches the bedroom she’s being tackled onto the bed. “I didn’t say Simon sa—”

They’re laying in bed hours later, chests rising.

“Your neighbour…”

Ava chuckles beside her. “You’ve met Esperanza.”

“She’s very…”

“Chismosa.”

“Chismosa?”

“Nosy. But with an extra level. Like, it runs deep in her veins. Years and years of perfecting it.”

“She’s intense and wouldn't stop coming out to ask what I was doing.”

“Are we really going to talk about Esperanza while I’m cupping your buttcheek?”

“Yes. Does she know about you?”

“Mmm…even if she does she won’t admit it. Though she has tried to introduce me to her nephew many times. I don’t think she likes me very much, I tend to blast music and sometimes she slams the side of the walls in protest.”

“I got a noise complaint by the way.”

“I told you you moan loudly.”

“Not for my moaning! Because of your need to play everything at a deafening level!”

“If Esperanza slams on the walls after I’m through with you then it’s because you moan loudly.”

“We do not need to test that!”

“But now I want to know!”

—

How’s it going hot stuff? 

(Inside the microwave.)

—

A torrential downpour greeted them the moment they exited the airport and ran into the first available taxi. Now, they’ve reached a stretch of congested streets, the ride no longer capable of getting them to their destination and they’ve gotten out to run to the venue. Their footsteps splash into every single possible puddle of water as they precariously sprint through the cobblestone paved streets of Madrid. The skies above grey and thunderous. 

Buoyed by the anticipation, Beatrice bounds towards the arena, barely bothering with Camila who is straggling behind, actively grumbling but also determinedly forging ahead. A walking, or in this case, a running contradiction. Vacillating wildly from complete happiness to ‘Beatrice, my curls, they can’t deal with the rain. I can’t be seen like this!’ every few seconds.

The front of the arena is completely empty when they arrive, the crowds already inside.  

“We’re gonna make it, Bea!” Camila yells from behind. 

They were in fact not going to make it. And even if they did, they were in a serious state of drowned.

They had both rushed onto multiple connecting flights from Los Angeles in the hopes of making it to Ava’s first concert. 

They had nothing with them, but passports and a dream. 

A dream that was slowly or maybe quickly falling apart.

Beatrice’s watch was stuck at 8:57, broken from water damage.

The concert had probably started. They were going to miss it. 

This was insane. How were they even going to get in? They didn’t have tickets. Alice wasn’t answering her phone, obviously incredibly busy. And Beatrice couldn’t blame her for not picking up, they didn’t even know if they would make it, let alone inform Alice to expect them.

Beatrice heard Camila’s foot slide before she heard the shriek and then the smack on the wet pavement. She stops, whirling around to look at Camila, making sure she’s okay. 

“GO!” Camila yells, from the floor, where she has sprawled out, looking a lot like a starfish. “Leave me! I am a liability, go on without me! See Ava for both of us!” she says as if at the receiving end of a mortal wound, which might be true given that Camila is in fact Ava’s biggest fan. Well, second biggest fan.

A chuckle escapes Beatrice at the absurdity of it all. 

Walking over to Camila she extends her hand, pulling her best friend off the floor. She grabs both of Camila’s shoulders before making eye contact, “WE’RE HERE! WE’RE GOING TO GET IN! Listen to me! We have made it this far, we’re going—”

Her phone is vibrating in her butt pocket. 

“WHO IS IT?” Camila is patting at her butt, attempting to pull at the phone as well, intently staring at the device the moment Beatrice pulls it out. As if it’s a miracle sent by a divine entity somewhere. “IS IT ALICE?”

“IT’S ALICE!”

“ANSWER IT GODDAMN IT!”

The phone is slippery in her hands. There’s several failed attempts at sliding the stupid answering thing across. “HELLO! ALICE!”

“Beatri—”

“I’M HERE!”

“You’re here?!” Alice actually sounds happy to hear this.

“CAMILA AND I ARE HERE!” 

“WHERE IS HERE? BE SPECIFIC, I’M COMING TO GET YOU.”

“FRONT—ARENA FRONT!”

“Stay there!” Alice hangs up.

Camila cackles. Then shakes her hair like a wet dog, water bouncing off the ends of her curls and landing all over Beatrice, but at this point it doesn’t even matter. “WE FUCKING DID IT!”

“We did!”

She’s going to see Ava. She’s going to be here for Ava, on her big night. 

Ava is going to be so happy to see her. 

Shit. 

She didn’t get flowers. Should she have bought flowers at the airport? People give flowers in concerts. How could she have forgotten about flowers?!

“Oh my God.” Camila’s hand comes to her heart, “I’m going to pass out! I need caffeine, I need something, my heart is slowing down too quickly. SLAP ME!” Camila hysterically jumps on the spot, creating energy from nothing.

“Camila! We made it.” She shakes Camila again, holding her still. The adrenaline finally subsiding, finally letting her breathe again. “Should I have gotten flo—”

“You guys are fucking mad!” Alice is yelling from one of the entry doors, hand frantically beckoning them to her. She has towels draped along her other arm. 

“ALICE!!!” Camila rushes to the entrance, Beatrice forgotten, singularly focused now on Ava and getting to Ava alone.

Inside the arena they towel themselves down as they walk a few steps behind Alice who is going at a rate triple of their own. They take several doorways, ending up somewhere backstage where the crew is briskly walking past, all at varying states of stress. The concert doesn’t appear to have started yet, which is a little concerning but a much needed victory. 

“Ava is about to go on. I can get you guys into one of the boxes, but you won’t be able to see her until the end of the show.” Alice stops suddenly, pulling a door open. It’s a room full of tour merch. “Grab whatever you want.”

They begin to change inside. Wet clothing slapping onto the floor without a care. Camila tugs several tour shirts up to her chest, going through each of them as if the decision is of the utmost importance and the concert isn’t about to start.

“I can ask Ava to give you all of these, you know? Literally, you can ask Ava for these yourself.”

Camila stops to consider her, eyes serious. “I cannot believe you want me to rush this decision. Of all things Beatrice!”

Her phone vibrates from where she’s managed to balance it atop her satchel.

Darling - Voice Message

The concert is delayed and Ava has sent a voice note.

Instantly, the phone is by her ear.

“ Hello to the world's most beautiful, talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, and loving girlfriend. I’m about to go on stage–don’t worry, everything is fine. I just ran into a slight wardrobe issue. I just wanted to say that I miss you and desperately…DESPERATELY want to see you right now. I think you guys are almost finished and you’ll be getting on flights soon so please be safe and call me once you land. I don’t care if you wake me…just call, okay? I wish you were here…sorry I didn’t mean to–you know what I mean. A no pressure ‘I miss you’. I love you.”

Camila stops looking through the shirts. “Something wrong?”

“No, just Ava wanting to say hi before going on stage.”

“Aren’t you going to respond?” Camila blinks several times, a duh evident in her tone.

“I’m not sure what to say…like, ‘hi, guess what I’m here’...she might do a runner.”

Ava would. Ava would open every door backstage and find her.

“Just be cute! I’ll put my fingers in my ears if you want.”

“No you won’t,” she deadpans the response.

“No…I will not, you are right about that.” Camila winks, then says, “She probably wants to hear from you before she starts.”

And that’s all the encouragement she needs to press the record button on her phone.

“Hi my love. You’re going to be absolutely breathtaking and phenomenal.” She’s trying to ignore the pest in front of her who is making kissy faces all while wrapping herself into a solo hug. “I miss you, Ava, and I’ll see you soon. I promise I will. Have an incredible time tonight, I love you.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my emotionally inept best friend?”

“I love her,” Beatrice replies without hesitation, the thought and feeling incapable of being restrained anymore.

“I know you do.”

Camila doesn’t understand though. No, but then again neither did she. Not until she ran off the flight and proceeded to push through the throngs of passengers leaving their gates. Not until she bodily pushed Camila up stairs and into a taxi. And not when every puddle threatened to slow her down. “No, Cam. I love her.”

“ Oh. ” Camila is unusually quiet. Long enough that Beatrice is sure that she may have actually had a mini stroke from lack of adrenaline. But then she’s moving close, a hand reaching for her own, “Did you know that there’s a peace in your voice every time you speak of Ava? I’ve never really heard it before. It’s hard to describe…you’ve always loved so quietly, Beatrice, but now it’s fierce and unabashed. Always the one holding others up, being strong for all of us. It’s beautiful to see someone finally hold you, love you and care for you—truly, I’m so happy for you.”

“I am terrified of admitting it, or even saying it out loud, it feels like I’ll jinx it. You’ve—you’ve known me my whole life, you know how much it has taken me to open up like this. And I think this might be it . I feel so calm around her, everything just slows down, but it’s also intense and all-consuming as well. She sees me. And I hope she knows I see her too.”

Alice impatiently slams on the door a couple of times. “Hurry up! What do you think this is, a Madonna concert?! Ava is a diva but she’s not a diva .”

Camila goes back to deliberating but Beatrice doesn’t miss the cute faces she keeps making towards her. 

She blindly grabs at a white t-shirt, settling it onto her torso.

Camila stops again and glares. “TAKE THAT OFF! YOU’RE NOT WEARING THAT NEXT TO ME!”

When she looks down the words that greet her are: So, so, so, so, so, so good…good…good…

Beatrice looks down at the pile of shirts, turning one around to see the back: Mmm, hentai.

The shirt is off her as if suddenly set ablaze.

Her shoulders make an involuntary embarrassed shake before moving on to a different pile and pulling out another shirt, this one is of just Ava’s album cover, with just the helmet and nothing else and the tour dates on the back. 

Small wins . 

Camila gives her the thumbs up from underneath a red bucket hat, decision on the shirt made as well. They don’t have much choice for their bottom half other than shorts that say ‘ Tu Bizcochito ’ across their butts, but it will do, stares be damned.

Alice impatiently greets them again, already grabbing at the wet clothing and towels. She points at a security guard next to her, “This gentleman here will take you to your box. You are to remain there until I come to join you. Understand?”

They both nod and Alice storms off. 

(*)

They make it to their box a few minutes later as flashes from the overhead lights on stage and around the venue begin. The crowd roars as the dancers and Ava come out wearing the same motorcycle helmets from Lollapalooza, but now glowing a deep red. There’s two massive screens at either side of the platform, both projecting the same purple white noise background as triple M’s flash at the center, framing the bodies which have now arrived at their spot upstage.

Ava’s in the middle of the dancers, slowly lifting herself upright as her helmet takes over the screens. ‘ Saoko ’s’ distinctive rev of engines burst through the arena’s speakers, immediately throwing the crowd into a frenzy. There’s a moment where everyone in the arena screams, the music overwhelming and the lights at seizure inducing levels. 

The dancers part slightly and Ava walks through. She’s wearing black from head to toe, with Lycra covering most of her body. The equally black leather accessories adding to the overall look, with a sort of skirt at her waist, gloves that stretch up to her shoulders, and knee length high heel boots. Her long hair is perfectly straight and loose, the wind from the fan by the edge of the stage already oscillating in her direction.

Ava unbuckles her helmet and removes it, microphone coming to her mouth, “¿ Madrid, que dices? ”

She can see the entire stage from where they are, but they’re far enough away that Ava won’t be able to see them. There’s a strange sort of energy that everyone has been enveloped by, almost as if Ava has turned into the brood mother and the hive is eagerly awaiting her orders.

Yo soy muy mía

(I’m very much myself)

¡Yo me transformo!

(I transform)

Una mariposa

(A butterfly)

¡Yo me transformo!

Makeup de drag queen

(Drag queen makeup)

¡Yo me transformo!

Lluvia de estrellas

(Falling stars)

¡Yo me transformo!

Pasá' de vuelta'

(I comeback)

¡Yo me transformo!

Como Sex Siren

(Like a sex siren)

¡Yo me transformo!

Me contradigo

(I contradict myself)

¡Yo me transformo!

Soy to'a' las cosa'

(I’m everything)

¡Yo me transformo!

“Beatrice.” The voice behind her has the insane ability to send a shiver down her spine every time.

She turns, eyes meeting Emilia’s intense gaze. “Emilia. How—how are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” Emilia takes a moment to look down at her ‘outfit’ taking it in, “Big fan?”

She gulps. “Very big, yes.”

“Those shorts are… a choice.” Emilia softens, “It’s good that you made it, she’ll be happy to see you.” With that Emilia makes a twirling gesture with her fingers, asking Beatrice to turn back around and watch the show. “Enjoy the concert, Beatrice. And do try to restrain yourself in public.” Now dismissed, Emilia turns to the group next to her, nodding along to their conversation.

(*)

“ ¡Desde el día en que naaaaaaací! ” Camila shouts along beside her. 

Then, both, “ Ta-ra-rá, ta-ra-rá, taaaaaa-tá! ” They laugh, bouncing together. “ Ta-ra-ra-taaaaa-tá! ”

The distinctive sound of what is probably her favourite part of the concert begins. Not that she’s seen it, of course, but she knows the sequence of songs that are about to unfold before them. She knows the edits Ava has done to make the flow appear seamless. 

(*)

(Watch until 18:56. It's gotta be seamless or Beatrice will cut you.)

The flamenco infused electro-R&B ‘ De Aquí No Sales ’ echoes across the arena, as Ava’s pre-recorded voice loops. Then, she begins to sing.

Yo que tanto te camelo y tú me la vienes haciendo

(I, who treat you well and you, who keeps hurting me)

Que tú, de aquí, no sales

(From here you won’t leave)

A singular spotlight is on Ava and she delivers the vocally heavy song as the revving of motorcycles engines start again. The dancers soon join but keep their distance as she crosses between them, back and forth.

Mucho más a mí me duele de lo que a ti te está doliendo

(This hurts me much more than it hurts you)

Conmigo, no te equivoques

(Don’t you dare test me)

The rhythmic clapping begins and everyone in the arena joins in the traditional palo . They’re in the perfect setting here in Spain for the next song ‘ BULERÍAS ’, which has flowed in perfectly after Ava’s belt. 

Ava holds the position of a flamenco dancer, left hand with the microphone resting by her stomach while the right one is held above her in a half ‘O’, fingers wiggling prettily. Then, she begins to move around the stage erratically, as if possessed.

Yo no tuve que hacer na'ita que yo no quisiera

(I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to do)

Y aunque ahora nadie lo ve

(And even though no one sees it now)

¡Dale!

Yo no tuve que hacer nada que me arrepienta ni de que yo lamente ahora

(I didn't have to do anything to repent or to lament now)

Para mantenerme en pie yo me maté 24/7 eso e' lo que tuve que hacer

(To stay on my feet I killed myself 24/7, that's what I had to do)

The traditional structure of the song allows Ava to fully use her vocal power and emotion, bringing to life the contemporary lyrics. The dancers shift around her as the percussion and motorcycle noises reverberate out of the speakers adding aggression to the song. Then, Ava stops singing, allowing her dancing to continue to build on the emotion as the clapping continues, dancers circling around her, arms flailing about. 

¡Olé!

There’s barely a moment to recover as the next song starts. A diluted form of ‘ Motomami ’ begins eventually mutating into the full song, fully wrapping up the segment. The dancers move strangely around the stage as Ava snaps her fingers. Then, they begin to form the shape of a motorcycle, which Ava boards and begins to sing.

A cada copia que ves tú dale tu bendición

(To every copy you see give them your blessing)

Y yo no quiero competir si no hay comparación

(And I don't want to compete if there's no comparison)

“That’s so fucking cool! What the fuck!” Camila is practically screaming this into her ear, eyes fixated on the stage. 

The background behind Ava making it appear as if the human form motorcycle is traveling a mountainous desert expanse. 

( This section is basically nonsense! )

Okay, motomami

Pesa mi tatami

(My tatami is heavy? lol)

Hit a lo tsunami

(Hits like a tsunami)

Ooooooooooooooooh!

Okay, motomami

Fina, un origami

(Fine like origami)

Cruda a lo sashimi

(Raw like sashimi)

Ooooooooooooooooh!

All the lights in the arena begin to flash at once, the bass consuming every sound around them. 

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI MOTOMAMI

“Just hear me out…on the stage, the dancers will turn into the motorcycle.”

“Ava, how does that even happen? They’re going to be motorcycles?”

“You don’t see the vision!”

“I think you’re crazy, but also I encourage your crazy.”

‘You’re going to think it’s so cool when you see it, Bea. I’m excited!”

The song ends and Ava’s description of it finally…finally makes sense. And it is cool…but the previous songs are still her favourite.

Alice pulls the black curtains to their box halfway through the concert and walks in, drink in hand. She seems agitated. But all things considered, this part is probably the most stressful aspect of her job, apart from dealing with them as a couple.

“What do you guys think?” Alice nudges her way between them before taking a few sips of her drink.

“THIS IS THE BEST CONCERT I’VE EVER BEEN TO!!!!”

“Ava is incredible!”

Camila’s effusive reply completely drowns out her own.

“I haven’t told her you guys are here, but if you guys want to you can come down for ‘ Despecha ’. There’s a few VIPs that will go up and dance with her.”

Camila’s eyes bulge at the potential. “YES! I would definitely want to go, count me in! Take me, I'm yours! When do we go?”

Alice chuckles, emptying her glass before peering at Beatrice, waiting for her response. “No. No, you guys go.” This is for the best. Whatever space she can manage to create between them in such a public setting is the best course of action.

“Alright.” Alice turns, gesturing for Camila to follow.

It takes two songs and an outfit change to a more delicate pink sheer number. Then, the dancers are bringing various VIPs onto the stage. There’s several celebrities she recognises along with Chanel and Zori, Ava’s label mates. They all start dancing along to the infectious merengue/mambo fusion track. This song alone solidified Ava in the history books, breaking records in numerous countries along with complete chart dominance all Summer long.

(*)

“ Yeah-yeah…yeah-yeah ,” Ava joins the dancing, quickly finding Camila among the crowd onstage, a huge smile adorning her face. 

Ava begins to swivel her head searching through the faces on stage, but doesn’t spot what she’s looking for. It pangs at Beatrice’s heart, she knows Ava is seeking her out. She can see the moment Ava’s face drops as she looks back to Camila in question and her heart throbs in response. Ava thinks she’s not there. Probably thinks only Camila had the availability or something came up and Beatrice couldn’t be there. 

Ava quickly gathers herself, catching the first verse of the song slightly delayed.

Baby, no me llame' que yo estoy ocupá' olvidando tus male'

(Baby, don’t call me I’m busy forgetting your betrayal)

Ya decidí que esta noche se sale con toda' mis motomami', con toda' mis gyale'

(I’ve decided I’m going out tonight with all my motomamis, with all my girls)

The dancers with the VIP dance along as the crowd cheers. Even more phones are being held up now, trying to catch footage and photos of all the celebrities in attendance. Saying no to Alice was the best decision. 

Ava’s eyes are now determinedly looking through the audience first and then the boxes spread across the stadium. 

Zori and Chanel come up to her then, dragging her into a group dance, which Ava allows.

Y ando despechá', oah, alocá'

(And I’m heartbroken, oah, going crazy)

Bajé con un flow nuevo de caja, baby, hackeá'

(I came with a new flow, baby, I’m hacked)

Lo muevo de la'o a la'o y a otro la'o

(I move it side to side and to the other side)

Ava slings her arm across Camila’s shoulder as the song continues pulling her into a cute choreography, where they step side to side, then burst into a salsa. An in-ear comes off as Ava leans into Camila’s ear, microphone pointed to the floor. Camila nods vigorously in reply, a full smile taking over her features as Ava jumps out of pure joy, Camila joining in her little jumps.

Mira qué fácil te lo v'y a decir

(Look how easy it is, I’ll tell you)

A, B, C, one, two, three

Mira qué fácil te lo v'y a decir

Que esta motomami ya no está pa' ti

(That this motomami is not yours anymore)

Mira qué fácil te lo v'y a decir

Que esta motomami ya—

Ava leans towards Camila again as the song ends, who looks directly in the direction of their box, before nodding towards it.

Ava follows Camila’s gaze, eyes squinting at the box. She must see some blob that she recognises as Beatrice because her girlfriend smiles, all toothy and cute, to the point that the little creases of her eyes come out. Ava brings her hand up to her lips blowing a kiss towards her. She knows Ava can’t see her but she holds up a hand to catch the kiss anyways.

She hears Emilia sigh behind her. 

There’s a few heads swiveling in the crowd towards the box, having followed the direction of Ava’s kiss. Though Beatrice knows it's too dark and they’re too far away, she still ducks her head, lowering her face to the floor to avoid a searching eye or the focus of an overpowered phone camera. 

Camila returns, too giddy and energetic having just stepped off stage. “Ava says and I quote ‘Beatrice, I’m really, really happy. I’m so glad you’re here’.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“No, she did not, but she said other things that I don’t feel comfortable relaying to you because as I would like to remind you, Beatrice, I don’t need to know. I would also like to pretend you’re both nuns who just give charged glances to one another across courtyards and nothing else.”

(*)

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, 

One…one…one…one one one one one one

The closing song starts, a clattering deconstructed jumble of a song, with a unique blend of electronic and ballad elements. Controlled chaos would be the most apt description of it if Beatrice is being frank. And probably the closest a song comes to describing Ava as an artist. It’s not surprising at all that it’s the last song, as it encapsulates the album and the concert’s energy. From the high to the lows of the middle to the complete mayhem that is the end. 

Ava comes to the center of the stage, hair sweaty and curly from hours of dancing. The dancers move frantically around her with no obvious dance to follow. Though the energy is still high, Beatrice is pretty sure Ava is about to collapse from exhaustion.

Se creen especial como un año en Miami que nieva

(They think they're as special like a year in Miami when it snows)

Como una autopista sin flecha'

(Like a highway without an arrow)

Como una utopía sin brecha'

(Like a utopia without a gap)

Yo quiero ver la mariposa' suelta'

(I want to see the butterfly be free)

Emilia taps her shoulder, it’s a struggle to tear her eyes from the stage. And when she doesn’t turn back, Emilia yell-whispers into her ear, “Let’s go. We’ll need to get backstage before she finishes the song.” 

And she wants to object because Ava would want her to see the end. And she too wants to clap along with the audience and give Ava a much deserved standing ovation. 

Keep it CUUUUuuuuuute!

Emilia lingers by the curtains waiting, not willing to take no for an answer.

Keep it CUUUUuuuuuute!

Beatrice steps to Emilia, tugging Camila along, who isn’t coming willingly.

“But Bea it’s not finished!” Camila hisses, head still poking around the curtains to peer down at the stage even as Beatrice steers her away.

Emilia is on the move and then so are they. “Once we’re backstage it’ll be a mad scramble of getting Ava to change. The cars are already waiting for us to leave before the crowd does.”

They keep quiet as they go down flights of stairs and through several doors, Ava’s voice echoing and bouncing off the bare concrete walls. 

Mariposas sueltas por la calle

(Butterflies* free on the street)

Para verla' tienes que salir

(To see them, you have to come out)

Mírala', no pierda' detalle'

(Look at them, don’t miss their every detail)

Habrá quien te falle

(There are those who will let you down)

Pero yo siempre estoy ahí

(But I’ll always be here)

* The singer compares herself to a butterfly often.

Once backstage, Alice waves. Bags already slung across her shoulder. She tosses Camila one which must contain their wet clothing.

From the angle they’re standing in, they can see from the left side of the stage as the ballad section finishes and the tempo of the song begins to pick up again. The dancers consume Ava as she tries to fight off their relentless hold. 

A de alfa, B de brava

C de Charlie, angelada

Crashed, Lady D

Llévame lejo' de aquí

(Take me away from here)

Then, Ava breaks free, finishing the song and concluding the concert. She doesn’t wait around, giving a heartfelt thank you before bowing, as the crowd’s boisterous applause takes over the entire arena.

Ava is bounding off the stage, the rush of euphoria and delirium keeping the exhaustion at bay. As she spots Beatrice and company waiting in the wings, the wide grin on her face gets impossibly bigger, making a direct beeline for Beatrice. She melts into Beatrice’s waiting arms, throwing her entire body weight against her. The sudden weight causing her to grasp Ava tightly to keep her upright.

After a few seconds, Emilia is stepping up next to them. Her tone brooking no argument as she says, “You need to change. And leave with Alice in your town car. Camila and Beatrice. Come with me.”

“Umm, your honour. Please. I’d like to stay. Chanel and Zori invited me out after.” Camila shoves the bag of clothing at Beatrice, quickly grabbing Ava into a side hug. “Good show. Amazing. 100 out of 10,” barely breaking stride as she runs back the way they came. “BYE!”

“Beatrice, with me.”

There’s silence in the car. 

Beatrice is suddenly hyper aware of her breathing and how loud each inhale and exhale seems in the confined space. Emilia and her both seated at the window seats, the middle taken up by the bag holding their wet clothing and her satchel. She’s making an extreme effort to keep her breaths measured and steady so that Emilia doesn’t judge her and pick up on her nerves. 

She’s rubbing her clammy palms against the material of the shorts when Emilia finally breaks the silence. 

“Beatrice.” She’s turning towards Emilia now, eyes widening, a slow and steady bob to her head in acknowledgement. She’s still nodding. She needs to stop. Emilia must think she looks like an idiot. Stop. Okay. Stop. Any second now. Emilia is baring her mouth in what she assumes is meant to be a comforting smile. Except she’s showing too many teeth. Oh my god. She looks like a shark. She knows I’ve defiled her niece. Her adoptive daughter. She wants to kill me. It was a mistake getting into this car. The driver is in cahoots and my body will just be disappeared into the catacombs. 

“Thank you for coming tonight. It means a lot to Ava that you’d show up to her opening concert, make the effort to do so. I appreciate it too.” Emilia extends her hand across the seats and awkwardly pats at Beatrice’s forearm twice before withdrawing. “I also wanted to acknowledge you choosing not to go on stage for Despecha . I know Suzanne has already spoken to you about our expectations, how to keep this under wraps but I appreciate that you were conscious of the attention it would have generated. I… I know that Ava can be impulsive and careless. She might not want to think of the consequences of some of her decisions. As a child, she was always carefree. ”

By now Emilia has turned back around and is staring hard at the partition screen. A fierce frown etched on her face. “Or, at least, she’s very good at pretending to be carefree even when she’s hurt. I- I love Ava very much. I think Ava has told you a little bit about our family history. It hasn’t always been easy. So I thank you for taking care of her. Please continue to take care of her. And be patient with her.”

When the town car draws up to the door of Ava’s apartment building, both Emilia and Beatrice let out a giggle at the sight of the double doors opening slightly and Ava’s head poking out to peer at them. 

As Beatrice scrambles to get out of the car, looping the strap of the bag and her satchel around her hand and unbuckling her seatbelt, Emilia is bidding her farewell with a wave of her hand, “Goodbye Beatrice, have a good evening. Don’t make me regret this. I will take great pleasure in chopping you into pieces if you hurt her…Oh, and Beatrice? No more ripped dresses,” before breaking out into chortles. Emilia is still laughing to herself when Beatrice closes the door on her, cutting off the sound. Face pale. 

Ava’s swinging the door open for her as she walks up the few steps to the entrance and stepping into the lobby. “What’s wrong?” Ava’s eyes are anxiously scanning her face, raising up a hand to cradle Beatrice’s cheek. “Emilia threatened to kill me. And she knows about the dress.” 

Ava starts laughing, her laughs echoing through the lobby and bouncing off the stairwell. 

It sounds like Emilia’s laugh. These Silvas are terrifying…

—

Did you know that I’m truly, madly, and deeply in love with you?

 (Inside one of her boots.)

[feralferrule]

Chapter 4

Word count: 3580ish

Fic Masterlist

Echo x Earthling reader OC (reader has a nickname)

Reader is a captive charged with taking care of Echo in the tower on Skako minor.

Music to set the mood

Warnings: I saved this chapter for kinktober💅. mature content 18+ minors dni, graphic depictions of violence and injury, character death, lactation, spontaneous lactation, adult breastfeeding, angst, sexual arousal, psychological trauma, conveniently placed ductwork, self indulgence, mention and quoting of Grapes of Wrath sorry if you had a terrible high school experience with it. Not beta read or well edited, we die like clones here

I kept physical descriptions of Reader as generic as possible. The artwork is very much self portraiture. Artwork and inspiration at the bottom

Still blinking and rubbing your eyes you frowned at the schedule on the med bay’s data pad. They were busy today. Something was up because the connection to the clone was happening around the clock for the next few days. It gave you very little time with him between sessions. You would have to leave his neural connections plugged in and keep him in the control bay instead of going through the lengthier process needed to fully decouple and then reconnect him to the chamber and network. You figured you’d be able to check over and clean him the first time. Then a couple hours after that you could feed him. Depending on how much you were able to get into him at a time, you could play it by ear how many feedings it would take. Setting a timer you settled down to meditate.

A couple hours later at the sound of the timer you set about the process of removing, tending and replacing the man before the next communication connection came in from the war beyond this world. You were grateful for how much the prosthetics handled his hygiene so as to save you from adding insult to his modesty. You tried pouring healing energy through him and sending him comfort and reassurance, but weren’t sure how effective you were since the collar was still well charged.

You were surprised at how little time you really seemed to have in that window. And worried about how quickly you’d be able to feed him with the sponge. Figuring you’d benefit from a look out your window and some breakfast you went down below to the mess and selected a substantial ration pack and electrolyte drink pack. You thought about dairy cows as you stared out your little window and had a sudden breakthrough memory of watching clones on tv while snuggling little people. Guilt over your abandoned family back home and your inability to put all the pieces together threatened to take you down into crippling depression. Which wouldn’t do, you had someone counting on you even if he didn’t know it. So you took a deep breath and went through your short to do list.

Your own nutrition and hydration (practically eating for two)

Wear down the force collar

Express milk

Scan the man

Inject electrolytes- if there’s any left in the supplies

Feed the man

Put him back

Repeat as necessary

You also had a new short list:

Take care of the man

Wait for help

Escape

Finally break down

After some more meditation on the force and a gradual reconnection to it you made your way back up to the stasis room. There was one little paper cup left in the med bay’s cabinet. Great you thought, searching for anything else, but coming up with nothing. You sighed, and set to work.

The man laid on the gurney, his head still attached to the long tubing that snaked down out of the stasis chamber. You quickly scanned him and saw he was indeed low on electrolytes so you gave him the infusion you had prepared. Injecting it through a port on his arm. After raising him up a bit you started talking to him in a soft voice.

“Hey, it’s me again.” His breathing sped up. “Don’t worry, I’m going to feed you with the sponge. Nothing scary today.” You dialed down the network connection a little with the controls on the panel and raised up your goggles and took off your mask and waited to see if he would rouse. His fingers twitched and his eyelids fluttered and you caught a glimpse of golden eyes. As he tried to focus on you he whispered, “You.” Then unfocused, mumbling nonsense, “ct 1409- ct-….”

“Yes it’s me, Choy, I’m going to give you the sponge now.”

You held up the sopping sponge to his lips and he opened his mouth. You figured there were about 40 or 50 calories in the milk you were able to express. Which wasn’t bad to start out with, but wouldn’t be enough as time went on and he was able to tolerate more. And want more. He sucked the sponge dry a last time and you put it and the cup aside.

“Can I touch you?” You asked.

He twitched his hand. You put your hand over his and squeezed gently. He sighed. With the other you soothed his forehead while reaching out to him with your mind to send him calm and safe thoughts. He felt so cold.

“Ner kar’ika.”

You gasped at his words, a tear slipped down your cheek as you studied his face.

**********

You knelt in the dirt and felt into the body and mind of the young clone soldier. The shy shiny you had met on your first day with the 187th. He was writhing and shuddering in pain, his body so broken, lungs flaming up from inhaling so much dust. Limbs fractured into hideous angles and multiple brain bleeds. There was nothing you could do but block his pain and let him die peacefully. As you calmed his pain he relaxed and sighed “Vor entye, ner kar’ika,” and he slipped away. His body and mind went cold and you broke off your connection. There were so many more to help but you couldn’t move from that spot. A hand touched your shoulder, turned you away from the mangled body and brought you into a hug. “You’ve done enough,” a modulated voice said above your ear. You noticed his jumbled energy, his spicy smell, Slick. He pressed a button on his vambrace behind your back.

“What does ‘vor-ent-yay-kareeka’ mean,” you asked him, clutching his curiass and leaning your cheek on his shoulder.

**********

Your clone seemed more peaceful now. You caressed his cheek and he closed his eyes. You let go of his hand, reached over to the console and dialed the network connection back up.

Your tears were coming fast now. He called you one of the clones’ most precious terms of endearment, his star, his little sun, and you were just a complicit agent of his imprisonment. You quickly put him back in the chamber and knelt down to the floor and had a good ugly cry.

It was four hours till the next window. You got up, put your mask and goggles back on and washed out the cup in the sink since it was the last one and threw out the sponge since there were a ton of them. You headed down to your quarters and plopped onto your bunk. Emotionally spent and having had restless, nightmare infested sleep, you drifted off.

Waking with a start to some banging in the distance you checked the time on the small chronometer on your wrist. It was close to time to feed him again, you rushed out to the elevator to get up there but were stopped by some maintenance droids.

“This area is off limits right now for repair work. The elevator isn’t working and we are trying to figure out what caused the malfunction.”

You looked over at the elevator and saw that they had the doors open but the lift was only half way up in the space. There were pieces of parts laying around and a whole crew of droids looking confused. Your heart sank and you cursed the Skakoan cheapskates. “Good working order, my ass,” you huffed under your breath stalking back to the mess. You grabbed a ration bar and water and sat at a long table. You could only fume and curse the Techno Union, the Skakoans, Slick. Everyone involved in this, everyone who was causing all these problems. The greed, the absolute capital greed of it all, and some neverending source of energy to fuel it. You rarely allowed yourself these moments, but sometimes it got to you.

It took them hours to fix the lift, and you were finally scanned and up level. You weren’t sure when the next window was so you checked the data pad. It had all changed, there was a brief one in 50 seconds and another in two days. That can’t be right, but you dashed out of the med bay and began the process of releasing him so you had maximum time with him- oh but you hadn’t expressed any milk!

As you watched the gurney bed lower down the only solution you could think of intimidated the hell out of you. Reenacting the end of Grapes of Wrath with a Star Wars clone was never how you pictured your life going. You turned him over and turned down the network connection more than last time. As you whispered hello to him he woke up a little, looking over at you with his pale eyes. You slid your goggles up and pulled your mask off.

He smiled weakly, “Kar’ika.”

He seemed more lucid. You smiled and stroked his cheek, “Hey, sweetheart, we have to try something new. I’m going to have to, well, feed you directly from my breast.”

If you felt uncomfortable feeding him before, you were now well out of your comfort zone. Way way out. But this was literally life or death for him so you shoved down all your social programming and questions of consent. You raised him up enough to breast level and pulled your top down in the front and popped the boob closest to him out of your breast band. He looked from your breasts to your face.

“It was my milk I fed you, it’s the only thing I can give you to keep you alive.” Your heart felt like it was going to flutter out of your chest and you had a hard time maintaining eye contact.

His eyes locked onto your chest and darkened.

You supported your breast from underneath and leaned closer to his face bringing your nipple to his lips.

“Please don’t bite.”

He opened his mouth with a studdering breath and drew your nipple in onto his tongue sealing his lips around it. This was really happening. His nose pressed into the plush of your boob.

And he sucked.

Your let-down reflex sprang into action and both breasts released a torrent of milk. You felt him choke a bit and his eyes opened wider. Looking up at you.

You didn’t think you could get more mortified. “I’m sorry sweetie, I can’t help when that happens.” You used your sleeve to dab at the dribble of milk around his lips and smiled down at him.

He swallowed and smiled against you and kept suckling. The sensation sent a twinge straight down a nerve to your core, which set off more tingling behind your nipples as a feedback loop of stimulation circled through your body. After a few more swallows you said, “I need you to switch sides so I’m not uneven.” You popped your nipple out of his mouth, his top teeth barely grazing it, and tucked your breast band over it. Shifting your body slightly and leaning over a little more you sprang your much more engorged and damp tit out and pressed it to his lips.

The pressure in your lower belly and tickle deep in your core activated again as he latched on and gazed up at you. It took your breath away and you had to remember to stay standing. He groaned a bit through his nose and you were sure he would try to wrap his arms around you if he could. You longed for you both to hold each other, but continued to stand by his side, maintaining a tiny bit of propriety. He drained an equal amount from that side and you tapped the tip of his nose.

“I have to go, sweetie,” you tried to say in a steady tone. Your heart felt fluttery, “I’m sorry, you don’t want to over do it.” He swallowed and you pulled back out of his suction gently till he released your nipple with a wet pop. You tucked yourself back into your breast band and fastened your shirt back at the shoulder. You noticed that he could barely keep his eyes open. You caressed the side of his face humming a quiet melody.

“Yaiyai…ika,” he nuzzled into your hand before closing his beautiful golden eyes and drifting off to sleep. Stretching back you dialed up the neural connection again and let him stay upright a few minutes while you hummed more of the song. This allowed his stomach to settle before laying him flat and raising him back into place in the chamber. Just in time for the next network link.

You felt so many things. Arousal. This was something hard wired. His mouth drawing milk from you sent a wild sensation through your whole body, woke something deep. Guilt. You still had the sense of betraying him by putting him back.

And you were grateful that he didn’t bite you.

Waiting two days to see him was torture and it worried you. This was going to hurt, whatever ended up happening to him. Even if you were able to get him to safety, or help would come and rescue him you’d go your separate ways right? You forced that thought down. Your hormones were probably off the charts while he nursed from you which made you feel a bond. He probably wouldn’t even remember any of this or you, right?

You spent these days in your sleep clothes, exercising, meditating, checking his vitals, and shower sessions of manual milk expression because the tits were fully primed now and they seemed to think they had a whole squad to feed. Your brain decided to play the milkshake song. This was not helping with your internal conflict of enjoying breastfeeding a not fully conscious grown man who you didn’t even know. You couldn't stop thinking about him. How he'd flesh out under your care, how the light would come back to his eyes and he would be able to hold you as you held him. Put his mouth other places. OK Stop.

Lenny and Squiggy came by each night to put a new battery in your collar. And each time you were given a brief exposure to the force which you used to stretch your mind and call out for help.

The Skakoans commed you at one point. Their fleshy heads flickering in and out of focus in the holo beam. You gave vague answers, it felt like they were hoping you failed somehow.

Finally the time came to get the man down again. You ate some awful bars for breakfast, changed into some clean day clothes and boots and went up to the med bay to double check the schedule. It showed two windows today and a late one tonight. Good, you’d be able to use the first one for general care and then two feedings. It was hard to gauge how much milk he was getting in him so you decided to just monitor his electrolytes and slowly increase your feeling of emptying with each feeding.

This procedure went well for a few days. He seemed to be filling out and didn’t look so close to death. The sessions continued to affect you and the sensation was getting stronger along with the clone. This was the first time since you’d been in this universe that your breasts weren’t so full and heavy. You were feeling lighter and freer than you had since back home.

Your ability to feed him, to save his life with your own body felt empowering. It gave you a fresh confidence in yourself even if it was just a bodily function and probably the force’s effect. But it gave you power over your sadistic captors who intended to dispose of this man and to punish you for things out of your control, most likely to get out of their contract and keep you.

The days blended together and at some point the mechanism that elevated the head of the bed stopped working. This had you climbing up on the demagnetized table and holding him in your arms in a variety of positions, always mindful to block the view of the occasional patrol droid that would peak in the room on its rotation. You didn’t want to bring attention to the malfunction since word would get back to the Skakoans and there’d be too many questions. Your clone seemed to respond well, liking the closeness and human touch as much as you did. You hadn’t realized how touch starved you had become in the last two years. So you decided you’d dial the network control down more the next time so he could benefit more from some cuddles more lucidly.

But the next time didn’t happen.

Alarms blaring and the sound of blaster fire and shouting somewhere above in the tower woke you from a dream about that very thing. It was so vivid - men rescuing the clone and battleing a droid army with the local natives. You realized it was a memory and not just a dream and this place was in the central plot. Was that good or bad? There was a Jedi here you realized with excitement. The rest of it was still fuzzy but this was it, the rescue, and it had you changing and packing fast. You slung your duffel straps over your shoulder like a backpack, put your mask and goggles on and opened your door

-and there were Lenny and Squiggy.

“We have orders to evacuate you if we are attacked” said Lenny “ Follow us.” You sighed and followed them out to the elevator which opened to a smoking and gaping hole. The droids looked at eachother. “We will have to wait for the lift to be repaired to take you to the safe room at the base of the tower.”

“Ok well I’m going to go use the refresher, I’ll be right back ok thanks you guys, always my heros.” You tapped each of them on their snoots.

They puffed up and saluted you. “Roger Roger, ma’am. “

You did indeed go to the barrack’s refresher, but only to access the air ductwork through a panel that you figured was connected to the cooling system in the floor above. It was large enough for you to shimmy up through it using your arms and feet to brace and climb. You had your small duffel on your head, pushing it ahead of you as you wriggled and inched your way up and finally made it to the next grate.

Peeking through you could see the stasis room. A black ball hovered in the air near the open stasis chamber, jagged purple electric lighting streaking out of it touching all the surfaces. The man was gone, you noticed, and intense worry settled deep in your stomach. You decided to keep climbing to the next level. When you reached the next grate you pushed and pounded it with your fist and it popped out with a clatter. Dragging your duffel down and shoving it through the opening you reached through and braced your shoulders outside the hole. When you pulled yourself out into the room the shaft behind you shuddered with a blast of air. Something must have blown up down there. Now you were very concerned.

You were in the cooling system, it seemed from the chill. There were some muffled sounds down one of the passageways so you cautiously crept that way. A couple turns down the corridor you saw something odd on the floor. Crouching down you saw that it was the clone’s catheter and bag. Oh dang that couldn’t have felt good coming out. But good riddance. You thought grimly about his stoma that would need surgical correction. You looked up, hearing shouts.

After a time of picking and choosing twists and turns, following sounds, you came to an opening to the outside and pressed yourself to the wall next to it. You had caught a glimpse of a blaster fight happening on the pipe that extended out to another tower. You peeked out and saw droids firing on soldiers and a Jedi who were standing and hanging off of the pipe. Then there was a horrible screeching noise and massive flying creatures swarmed the air around the tower. The Jedi shouted and jumped off, landing on a beast. Then another two. You saw one was your clone and you leaned out of the opening to get a better look. It was definitely him and he was flying away on one of the creatures. As the last of the men jumped onto the creatures the droids deployed their wings and flew after them.

The wind whistled. You weren’t sure what to do now. So you sat against the wall tucked inside the tower and looked out to the other up in the clouds across the pipe. Their experiment was gone and the facility probably destroyed. Your contract would be ‘renegotiated’ for sure now. The door on the other side was still open. You could carefully walk across to it and you’d have a better chance at escape. You tried to stretch your mind out into the force but the collar was still too charged for a strong connection. Everything had happened so fast this morning and you felt a compulsion to see that your sweet clone, a main character and hero in this world, made it out safe. So you took a deep breath and stepped out onto the pipe.

🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛inspiration🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛

'Rose of Sharon loosened one side of the blanket and bared her breast... Her hand moved behind his head and supported it. Her fingers moved gently in his hair. She looked up and across the barn, and her lips came together and smiled mysteriously.’ Grapes of Wrath, Steinbeck

My art and the inspiration Roman Charity by Lorenzo Pasinelli c. 1670

[chilewithcarnage]

My name is Bara' Al-Shurafa, I am 15 years old. We are a family of six, consisting of my mother, father, and four children. The youngest of my siblings is 8 years old. Since October 7, 2023, we have been suffering from a brutal war that has destroyed our dreams and hopes, and has surpassed the limits of human understanding. During this brutal war, we have endured hardships that even mountains could not bear. We are facing a severe shortage of water and an extreme lack of food and nutrition due to the siege imposed on northern Gaza for the past 10 months, which prevents the entry of essential items such as meat, vegetables, and fruits. This situation has forced us to eat animal fodder like barley, causing us to lose weight, contract various diseases, and suffer from a significant weakening of our immune systems.

We also suffer from a severe shortage of water, often walking about a kilometer to get a single gallon of water, which is about 16 liters, barely enough for the five members of the family. As a result of the war, our home and agricultural land, which used to provide us with our daily sustenance, have been completely destroyed and razed. We have also experienced frequent displacement, moving from place to place and area to area due to the horrific and brutal bombardment.

In addition to this, we have been deprived of education and the opportunity to build a future.

We also suffer from fear and terror due to the intense bombing, fire belts, and explosions, with the sounds of tanks being extremely frightening. The hospitals, which are the lifeline for every sick and needy person, have also been destroyed. We are facing a shortage of medicines and vaccines as diseases increase and spread among us, with no solution in sight as there are no hospitals or medical supplies available here in Gaza. We live in constant fear for my younger siblings because they have not received their general vaccinations, especially after the spread of polio due to the lack of cleaning supplies and the massive accumulation of waste in the streets. I was also supposed to receive vaccinations against tetanus and typhoid, but I have not received them due to the lack of vaccines. Furthermore, sewage water has flooded the streets, posing a serious threat to our children. We suffered from jaundice, battling it for about two weeks with symptoms of fatigue, dizziness, and other symptoms. It is a deadly disease. My younger siblings also suffer from widespread skin diseases in northern Gaza. Their small bodies have become covered with red spots, and as I mentioned before, there is no available treatment due to the destruction of hospitals and health centers.

We are also suffering from the absence of cooking gas, forcing us to use wood and plastic to start fires, which could lead to poisoning. We have been without electricity since October 7, spending our days in darkness, causing immense fear for my younger siblings. This has also made it very difficult to charge our phones and nightlight batteries. We have had to travel kilometers from our home to find places with electricity, costing us a lot to charge our phones and batteries.

Moreover, we have had no stable income since the war began.

I am pleading for your help for my family so that we can live a better life.

we will help in any way that we can <3

[chirp-a-chirp]

*A gentle breeze blows on the rooftop garden. MC pours Roy a hot cup of tea as he covers her shoulders with his jacket*

Sherry: MC! Brother! I have just the thing to warm you up! Invidian scones! *Unveils a small plate with several charred black lumps*

MC and Roy: …

MC: Oh no! There’s only enough for one person to eat. Roy, I couldn’t POSSIBLY deny you this privilege…

Roy: Why no, I could never allow the dearest friend of my sister to not enjoy this delight…

MC: *Whispers so only Roy can hear her* So much for gallantry…

Roy: *Whispers back* Even gallantry has its limits.

Sherry: Don’t worry, there’s enough for everyone! *Reveals a second plate with more charred lumps*

MC and Roy: *Reluctantly bite the suspicious lumps*

MC and Roy: …

MC and Roy: Delicious. *Beads of sweat form on their foreheads *

Grayson: *Runs to the rooftop garden* Princess! There’s been a mistake! These are your scones! *Produces a plate of nearly identical looking charred lumps*

Grayson: *Gestures to the plates of “scones” near Roy and MC* Those are lumps of coal! A trick by Prince Luxure!

Sherry: Oh my! Then Brother you should eat—

Roy: No, no! We ate your scones! They were DIVINE, right Heartspell? *Forces himself to nibble piece of coal*

MC: R-right!

Roy: *Shoots a pleading look to Grayson*

Grayson: *Grabs a lump of coal and nibbles it*

Grayson: …quite nutritional Princess.

Sherry: Oh thank goodness! Let me get more tea for us all! *Leaves rooftop garden*

Grayson: *Mutters to himself* I need drink.

[almoghaniosama]

The suffering of displaced people in southern Gaza during the winter

The suffering of displaced people in southern Gaza during the winter is an especially harrowing experience marked by extreme hardship and vulnerability. As the conflict in Gaza intensifies, many families are forced to flee their homes, seeking refuge in southern regions of the territory, often in overcrowded camps or makeshift shelters. These displaced individuals are already dealing with the trauma of loss, violence, and upheaval, but the onset of winter exacerbates their suffering

In the winter, the already precarious living conditions in southern Gaza worsen dramatically. Many of the displaced are forced into overcrowded tents, makeshift shelters, or even open spaces. These structures offer little protection from the biting cold, rain, and wind. The winter months, marked by heavy rainstorms and sometimes even floods, compound the dangers. Tents, which are intended for temporary shelter, are inadequate in such harsh conditions, with leaks allowing rain to pour in, making the ground muddy and uninhabitable. The lack of insulation and heating further exposes families to freezing temperatures, leading to cold-related illnesses such as hypothermia, pneumonia, and respiratory infections.

The situation is particularly dire for the most vulnerable groups, such as children, the elderly, and those with chronic illnesses or disabilities. The lack of basic necessities like warm clothing, blankets, and heating sources leaves them more susceptible to the harsh elements. In addition, the scarcity of medical care due to damaged infrastructure and overwhelmed healthcare systems further exacerbates the suffering. Medical facilities in southern Gaza are often under-resourced and struggle to meet the overwhelming demand for care, especially in times of conflict when injuries are rampant.

Food and clean water also become harder to obtain during the winter. The blockades and destruction of supply lines during the ongoing conflict make it difficult for humanitarian aid to reach the displaced populations in a timely manner. The risk of waterborne diseases increases, especially when sanitation infrastructure is damaged or non-existent. The overcrowding in shelters and camps increases the spread of infections and diseases, and the lack of access to proper nutrition weakens immune systems, further deepening the crisis.

In short, the displaced people in southern Gaza during the winter face not only the physical suffering of exposure to the elements but also deep psychological and emotional anguish. Their resilience in the face of such hardship is remarkable, but the scale of the crisis requires immediate and sustained humanitarian intervention. Providing them with adequate shelter, food, healthcare, and support is essential to alleviate their suffering, especially during the brutal winter months.

for donation click the link 🔗

[gym-x-plus]

#progresstakestime LE PROGRÈS PREND DU TEMPS !!

Choses que j'ai faites pour aider à trouver la motivation qui m’anime

aujourd'hui 😁

• manger dans un surplus (PDM)/ manger en déficit (sèche)!

• MANGEZ VOS PROTÉINES !! J'essaie d'avoir au moins

80-100g par jour sinon plus+ ( complément avec des shakers )

• CALORIES! Elles ne sont vraiment pas effrayantes et sont une partie nécessaire qui permet d’obtenir de l'énergie pour soulever les poids que vous voulez soulever et surtout si vous vous dépensez ! J'ai remarqué une énorme différence dans ma force et ma capacité à pousser plus fort pendant que je suis en PDM( prise de masse ) parce que je mange plus et que j'ai beaucoup plus d'énergie pour alimenter mes séances d'entraînements !

• DORMIR DORMIR ! J'essaie de dormir au moins 7-8 heures chaque nuit

• Le repos ! Je sais c’est parfois dure mais , ne vous entraînez pas trop! Vos muscles ont besoin de repos parce que c'est là que la croissance ce produit. J'ai divisé ma semaines, afin d’effectuer 5 sessions de sport, et environ 1 ou 2 jours de repos, parfois

• POUSSEZ-VOUS ! Quand vous soulèvez si vous ne luttez pas, alors vous n'en faites pas assez ! Changez de routine parfois aussi ! J'ai fait des entraînement au volume lourd parce que j'ai remarqué que simplement faire 3x8-10 ne me convenait plus ! Ajoutez des supersets ou des drop set pour pimenter les choses !

Comme toujours je vous aime tous et j'espère que cela vous aidera et apportera beaucoup de motivation

©️Credit ig @goodvibe.06

 #gymmotivation #gym #girlsupportinggirls #girlsup #girlpower #fitness #workout #fit #healthy #motivation #training #bodybuilding #gymlife #lifting #muscle #instagram #cannes #france #healthylifestyle #exercise #newlife #transformation #sport #fit #nutrition #healthy #halthyfood #fitnessmotivation #fyp

[fitnessmith]

Médicaments amaigrissants et perte de muscle, coupe-faim et sleepmaxxing

Médicaments amaigrissants et perte de muscle, coupe-faim et sleepmaxxing. 🎙Pour écouter mon podcast : - Recherchez « la pause fitness » sur votre plateforme de podcast préférée - Ou rendez-vous en bio @fitnessmith, cliquez sur le lien, fitnessmith.fr/news puis dans « les nouveautés» - Ou rendez-vous dans votre boite mail pour les fidèles auditeurs #musculation #podcast #fitnessmotivation #gym #abs #shredded #minceur #regime #nutrition #dietetique #alimentation #alimentationsaine #keto #cetogene #vegan #vegetarien #carnivore #workout #france #sante

Dans ce podcast, nous allons parler de médicaments amaigrissants et perte de muscle, coupe-faim et sleepmaxxing. Nouveau ! 10 recettes ÉCONOMIQUES pour perdre du gras ou prendre du muscle   Sommaire du podcast : Comment éviter la perte musculaire avec les traitements anti-obésité Une récente étude publiée dans The Lancet révèle que les médicaments récents contre l’obésité peuvent entraîner une…

[adelleandlaura4ever]

Without You

Where would I be without You!

I shudder to imagine it.

Life without You…

Oooh… what a sobering thought.

.

Over 6 years now… You are part of Me!

I’ve grown accustomed

to you living in my heart.

The power of our love,

it sweeps away all the dark memories

of my life before you came into my life.

.

You are the love that holds my life together,

So powerful, so unbreakable.

You are the staple - my nutrition -

that keeps me from losing myself.

.

You are the blood

that flows through my veins,

The cells that replenish

my heart with oxygen - your sweet love

You are my inspiration…

…My motivation for all the outpouring of love poems,

that pour out of my Soul.

You are the driving force behind all I do

.

What would I do without you?

.

Me without you

is like a leafless fall,

a snowless winter,

and a flowerless spring.

.

Me without you

is like a colorless rainbow,

a sunless day,

and a starless night.

.

Me without you

is like the ocean without a wave,

the beach without sand,

and a flameless fire.

.

Me without you

is like a book without words,

a woman without a face,

and a child with no name.

.

We are forevermore bonded together,

Inseparable…

Bound together as the stars come together

As a supernova…

in a blinding celebration of color and light,

Forever visible … love forevermore!

.

Laura,

I am so blessed that you came to my life!

It was destiny I believe.

And I’m so amazed that it happened.

I love you deeply Laura ❤️

@dreamiingofher

@adelleandlaura4ever

[stillsweetandwild]

Voilà ce que fait le dieu Argent

« Manger rend malade ou, pour le dire de manière un tantinet plus abrupte, tue à petit feu (le scandale récent de l'affaire Buitoni n'est que la partie visible de l'iceberg).

Cela paraît invraisemblable de dire une chose pareille. Et pourtant, c'est bel et bien la réalité à laquelle non seulement notre pays, mais tout le monde occidental, et même au-delà désormais, sont confrontés. Les études scientifiques démontrent de manière implacable, les unes après les autres, la nocivité (notamment sur le microbiote et son cortège de conséquences plus ou moins graves) des simili aliments qui ont l'autorisation de figurer en bonne position dans les rayons alimentaires des supermarchés.

De nos jours, l'ultra-transformation des aliments qui subissent tous les traitements possibles et imaginables par des procédés industriels (physiques, chimiques, mécaniques) plus sophistiqués les uns que les autres, par l'ajout d'additifs et de sucres cachés, fait que ce qui est censé nourrir la population ne peut plus être appelé nourriture compte tenu du produit final et des dégâts causés dans les organismes à moyen et long termes.

Les êtres vivants, dont nous faisons partie (oui!), n'ont pas d'autre choix qu'ingurgiter au moins trois fois par jour, tous les jours, des aliments pour pouvoir vivre. Cela a évidemment des effets sur notre tube digestif et sur toutes nos fonctions métaboliques qui devraient être salutaires. Or, les industriels fabriquent aujourd'hui de la nourriture bon marché, certes, mais qui n'a plus grand chose de naturel. Il faut revenir d'urgence à une alimentation saine en faisant la promotion des aliments bruts et authentiques et en excluant purement et simplement les additifs d'une part et et le sucre de l'autre de préparations qui ne devraient absolument pas en contenir (comme les sauces, par exemple).

Cela fait plusieurs décennies que ces dérives dans le secteur agroalimentaire se manifestent sous nos yeux sans que rien ne se passe. Résultat: nous assistons depuis plusieurs années à l'explosion de pathologies en tout genre comme, entre autres, le diabète et l'obésité dont souffrent plusieurs centaines de millions d'individus à travers le monde, dont 3,6 millions de diabétiques (source: Santé publique France) et "8,5 millions de personnes en situation d'obésité" (source: Ameli) rien que pour la France.

L'inertie des pouvoirs publics est devenue insupportable car actuellement, toute liberté de nuire est laissée à l'industrie agroalimentaire et aux enseignes de la malbouffe (qui proposent une alimentation addictive, et non pas nutritive), représentées par des multinationales dont la puissance de frappe commerciale mérite si ce n'est un coup d'arrêt, et au moins une mise à contribution pour réparer les dégâts causés et inverser cette explosion des maladies chroniques. Seul le législateur a le pouvoir de mettre un terme à cette autorisation d'empoisonner à petit feu les citoyens, condamnés, pour des millions d'entre eux, à avoir un traitement et un parcours médicaux au long cours, sans compter les complications liées aux deux maladies évoquées plus haut.

Cette situation est invalidante non seulement pour les individus qui sont entravés dans leur quotidien, mais elle est aberrante dans le sens où les dépenses liées à la santé explosent, enrichissant de ce fait une autre industrie, l'industrie pharmaceutique. Résultat: une nation affaiblie, privée de ses forces vives, de ses femmes et de ses hommes devenus vulnérables, dépendants aux médicaments, incapables de donner la pleine mesure de leurs moyens et de leurs talents. Au lieu de se renforcer, nos nations sont affaiblies par la puissance destructrice des industriels, et pas que de l'agroalimentaire.

Exigeons donc une sérieuse prise en compte par le législateur de cette situation afin de mettre hors d'état de nuire tous ces grands groupes industriels qui sévissent depuis de très et trop nombreuses années dans notre pays en particulier, et plus largement à travers le monde!

Il est plus que temps que le politique prenne ses responsabilités en se préoccupant réellement de la santé des gens et non des intérêts des industriels de l'agroalimentaire et de la restauration rapide. La santé publique, c'est la santé du peuple, non pas celle du compte en banque d'une poignée d'individus. »

Un texte de David MARÉCHAL

Soutenir sa pétition : https://www.change.org/p/stop-au-pouvoir-de-nuisance-de-l-industrie-agroalimentaire-et-de-la-restauration-rapide

En savoir plus avec notre dossier documenté : https://mrmondialisation.org/big-food-cie-les-industriels-nous-tuent-a-petit-feu/

Infos et Débats | Mr Mondialisation

[yes-bernie-stuff]

Rester en bonne forme spirituelle

Lorsque Paul a rédigé 1 Timothée 4:8, il a reconnu une chose que nous savons probablement tous au fond de nous-mêmes: la santé physique est importante.

À l'époque de Paul, l'entraînement sportif était une marque de discipline et de force. Aujourd'hui, nous reconnaissons également l'impact du sommeil, de la nutrition et de l'exercice sur notre bien-être. Il est important de prendre soin de notre corps, car il est un don de Dieu.

Mais Paul nous rappelle que si l'entraînement physique peut avoir une certaine valeur, ce n'est pas suffisant en soi. Nous avons besoin de quelque chose de plus profond, quelque chose qui nous soutient au-delà des hauts et des bas de la vie. Cette chose, c'est la piété.

La piété ne consiste pas seulement à éviter les mauvaises habitudes. Il s'agit de façonner nos vies en fonction de la présence et du but de Dieu. Tout comme l'entraînement physique peut renforcer notre corps, l'entraînement spirituel, à travers la prière, l'Écriture et l'obéissance, renforce notre âme.

Lorsque nous cherchons le Seigneur en premier, nous découvrons que la piété ne nous prépare pas seulement pour l'éternité, mais qu'elle transforme aussi notre façon de vivre aujourd'hui. Une vie saine, sur le plan mental, physique et spirituel, commence par rechercher le Seigneur en priorité.

[feralferrule]

Charity and Decadence

Chapter 4

Masterlist

Echo and force sensitive earthling f!reader-OC

Warning: 18+ This chapter includes actual breastfeeding of POW Echo and internal conflict over how it makes Choy feel.

Still blinking and rubbing your eyes you frowned at the schedule on the med bay’s data pad. They were busy today. Something was up because the connection to the clone was happening around the clock for the next few days. It gave you very little time with him between sessions. You would have to leave his neural connections plugged in and keep him in the control bay instead of going through the lengthier process needed to fully decouple and then reconnect him to the chamber and network. You figured you’d be able to check over and clean him the first time. Then a couple hours after that you could feed him. Depending on how much you were able to get into him at a time, you could play it by ear how many feedings it would take. Setting a timer you settled down to meditate.

A couple hours later at the sound of the timer you set about the process of removing, tending and replacing the man before the next communication connection came in from the war beyond this world. You were grateful for how much the prosthetics handled his hygiene so as to save you from adding insult to his modesty. You tried pouring healing energy through him and sending him comfort and reassurance, but weren’t sure how effective you were since the collar was still well charged.

You were surprised at how little time you really seemed to have in that window. And worried about how quickly you’d be able to feed him with the sponge. Figuring you’d benefit from a look out your window and some breakfast you went down below to the mess and selected a substantial ration pack and electrolyte drink pack. You thought about dairy cows as you stared out your little window and had a sudden breakthrough memory of watching clones on tv while snuggling little people. Guilt over your abandoned family back home and your inability to put all the pieces together threatened to take you down into crippling depression. Which wouldn’t do, you had someone counting on you even if he didn’t know it. So you took a deep breath and went through your short to do list.

Your own nutrition and hydration (practically eating for two)

Wear down the force collar

Express milk

Scan the man

Inject electrolytes- if there’s any left in the supplies

Feed the man

Put him back

Repeat as necessary

You also had a new short list:

Take care of the man

Wait for help

Escape

Finally break down

After some more meditation on the force and a gradual reconnection to it you made your way back up to the stasis room. There was one little paper cup left in the med bay’s cabinet. Great you thought, searching for anything else, but coming up with nothing. You sighed, and set to work.

The man laid on the gurney, his head still attached to the long tubing that snaked down out of the stasis chamber. You quickly scanned him and saw he was indeed low on electrolytes so you gave him the infusion you had prepared. Injecting it through a port on his arm. After raising him up a bit you started talking to him in a soft voice.

“Hey, it’s me again.” His breathing sped up. “Don’t worry, I’m going to feed you with the sponge. Nothing scary today.” You dialed down the network connection a little with the controls on the panel and raised up your goggles and took off your mask and waited to see if he would rouse. His fingers twitched and his eyelids fluttered and you caught a glimpse of golden eyes. As he tried to focus on you he whispered, “You.” Then unfocused, mumbling nonsense, “ct 1409- ct-….”

“Yes it’s me, Choy, I’m going to give you the sponge now.”

You held up the sopping sponge to his lips and he opened his mouth. You figured there were about 40 or 50 calories in the milk you were able to express. Which wasn’t bad to start out with, but wouldn’t be enough as time went on and he was able to tolerate more. And want more. He sucked the sponge dry a last time and you put it and the cup aside.

“Can I touch you?” You asked.

He twitched his hand. You put your hand over his and squeezed gently. He sighed. With the other you soothed his forehead while reaching out to him with your mind to send him calm and safe thoughts. He felt so cold. You were getting emotional.

“Ner kar’ika.”

You gasped at his words, a tear slipped down your cheek as you studied his face.

**********

You knelt in the dirt and felt into the body and mind of the young clone soldier. The shy shiny you had met on your first day with the 187th. He was writhing and shuddering in pain, his body so broken, lungs flaming up from inhaling so much dust. Limbs fractured into hideous angles and multiple brain bleeds. There was nothing you could do but block his pain and let him die. As you calmed his pain he relaxed and sighed “Vor entye, ner kar’ika,” and he slipped away. His body and mind went cold and you broke off your connection. There were so many more to help but you couldn’t move from that spot. A hand touched your shoulder, turned you away from the mangled body and brought you into a hug. “You’ve done enough,” a modulated voice said above your ear. You noticed his jumbled energy, his spicy smell, Slick. He pressed a button on his vambrace behind your back.

“What does ‘vor-ent-yay-kareeka’ mean,” you asked him, clutching his curiass and leaning your cheek on his shoulder.

**********

Your clone seemed more peaceful now. You caressed his cheek and he closed his eyes. You let go of his hand, reached over to the console and dialed the network connection back up.

Your tears were coming fast now. He called you one of the clones’ most precious terms of endearment, his star, his little sun, and you were just a complicit agent of his imprisonment. You quickly put him back in the chamber and knelt down to the floor and had a good ugly cry.

It was four hours till the next window. You got up, put your mask and goggles back on and washed out the cup in the sink since it was the last one and threw out the sponge since there were a ton of them. You headed down to your quarters and plopped onto your bunk. Emotionally spent and having had restless, nightmare infested sleep, you drifted off.

Waking with a start to some banging in the distance you checked the time on the small chronometer on your wrist. It was close to time to feed him again, you rushed out to the elevator to get up there but were stopped by some maintenance droids.

“This area is off limits right now for repair work. The elevator isn’t working and we are trying to figure out what caused the malfunction.”

You looked over at the elevator and saw that they had the doors open but the lift was only half way up in the space. There were pieces of parts laying around and a whole crew of droids looking confused. Your heart sank and you cursed the Skakoan cheapskates. “Good working order, my ass,” you huffed under your breath stalking back to the mess. You grabbed a ration bar and water and sat at a long table. You could only fume and curse the Techno Union, the Skakoans, Slick. Everyone involved in this, everyone who was causing all these problems. You rarely allowed yourself these moments, but sometimes it got to you.

It took them hours to fix the lift, and you were finally scanned and up level. You weren’t sure when the next window was so you checked the data pad. It had all changed, there was a brief one in 50 seconds and another in two days. That can’t be right, but you dashed out of the med bay and began the process of releasing him so you had maximum time with him- oh but you hadn’t expressed any milk!

As you watched the gurney bed lower down the only solution you could think of intimidated the hell out of you. Reenacting the end of Grapes of Wrath with a Star Wars clone was never how you pictured your life going. You turned him over and turned down the network connection more than last time. As you whispered hello to him he woke up a little, looking over at you with his pale eyes. You slid your goggles up and pulled your mask off.

He smiled weakly, “Kar’ika.”

He seemed more lucid. You smiled and stroked his cheek, “Hey, sweetheart, we have to try something new. I’m going to have to, well, feed you directly from my breast.”

If you felt uncomfortable feeding him before, you were now well out of your comfort zone. Way way out. But this was literally life or death for him so you shoved down all your social programming and questions of consent. You raised him up enough to breast level and pulled your top down in the front and popped the boob closest to him out of your breast band. He looked from your breasts to your face.

“It was my milk I fed you, it’s the only thing I can give you to keep you alive.” Your heart felt like it was going to flutter out of your chest and you had a hard time maintaining eye contact.

His eyes locked onto your chest and darkened.

You supported your breast from underneath and leaned closer to his face bringing your nipple to his lips.

“Please don’t bite.”

He opened his mouth with a studdering breath and drew your nipple in onto his tongue sealing his lips around it. This was really happening. His nose pressed into the plush of your boob.

And he sucked.

Your let-down reflex sprang into action and both breasts released a torrent of milk. You felt him choke a bit and his eyes opened wider. Looking up at you.

You didn’t think you could get more mortified. “I’m sorry sweetie, I can’t help when that happens.” You used your sleeve to dab at the dribble of milk around his lips and smiled down at him.

He swallowed and smiled against you and kept suckling. The sensation sent a twinge straight down a nerve to your core, which set off more tingling behind your nipples as a feedback loop of stimulation circled through your body. After a few more swallows you said, “I need you to switch sides so I’m not uneven.” You popped your nipple out of his mouth, his top teeth barely grazing it, and tucked your breast band over it. Shifting your body slightly and leaning over a little more you sprang your much more engorged and damp tit out and pressed it to his lips.

The pressure in your lower belly and tickle deep in your core activated again as he latched on and gazed up at you. It took your breath away and you had to remember to stay standing. He groaned a bit through his nose and you were sure he would try to wrap his arms around you if he could. You longed for you both to hold each other, but continued to stand by his side, maintaining a tiny bit of propriety. He drained an equal amount from that side and you tapped the tip of his nose.

“I have to go, sweetie,” you tried to say in a steady tone. Your heart felt fluttery, “I’m sorry, you don’t want to over do it.” He swallowed and you pulled back out of his suction gently till he released your nipple with a wet pop. You tucked yourself back into your breast band and fastened your shirt back at the shoulder. You noticed that he could barely keep his eyes open. You caressed the side of his face humming a quiet melody.

“Yaiyai…ika,” he nuzzled into your hand before closing his beautiful golden eyes and drifting off to sleep. Stretching back you dialed up the neural connection again and let him stay upright a few minutes while you hummed more of the song. This allowed his stomach to settle before laying him flat and raising him back into place in the chamber. Just in time for the next network link.

You felt so many things. Heartache. Arousal. This was something hard wired. His mouth drawing milk from you sent a wild sensation through your whole body, woke something deep. Guilt. You still had the sense of betraying him by putting him back.

And you were grateful that he didn’t bite you.

**********

Waiting two days to see him was torture and it worried you. This was going to hurt, whatever ended up happening to him. Even if you were able to get him to safety, or help would come and rescue him you’d go your separate ways right? You forced that thought down. Your hormones were probably off the charts while he nursed from you which made you feel a bond. He probably wouldn’t even remember any of this or you, right?

You spent these days in your sleep clothes, exercising, meditating, checking his vitals, and shower sessions of manual milk expression because the tits were fully primed now and they seemed to think they had a whole squad to feed. Your brain decided to play the milkshake song. This was not helping with your internal conflict of enjoying breastfeeding a not fully conscious grown man who you didn’t even know. You couldn't stop thinking about him. How he'd flesh out under your care, how the light would come back to his eyes and he would be able to hold you as you held him. Put his mouth other places. OK Stop.

Lenny and Squiggy came by each night to put a new battery in your collar. And each time you were given a brief exposure to the force which you used to stretch your mind and call out for help.

The Skakoans commed you at one point. Their fleshy heads flickering in and out of focus in the holo beam. You gave vague answers, it felt like they were hoping you failed somehow.

Finally the time came to get the man down again. You ate some awful bars for breakfast, changed into some clean day clothes and boots and went up to the med bay to double check the schedule. It showed two windows today and a late one tonight. Good, you’d be able to use the first one for general care and then two feedings. It was hard to gauge how much milk he was getting in him so you decided to just monitor his electrolytes and slowly increase your feeling of emptying with each feeding.

This procedure went well for a few days. He seemed to be filling out and didn’t look so close to death. The sessions continued to affect you and the sensation was getting stronger along with the clone. This was the first time since you’d been in this universe that your breasts weren’t so full and heavy. You were feeling lighter and freer than you had since back home.

Your ability to feed him, to save his life with your own body felt empowering. It gave you a fresh confidence in yourself even if it was just a bodily function and probably the force’s effect. But it gave you power over your sadistic captors who intended to dispose of this man and to punish you for things out of your control, most likely to get out of their contract and keep you.

The days blended together and at some point the mechanism that elevated the head of the bed stopped working. This had you climbing up on the demagnetized table and holding him in your arms in a variety of positions, always mindful to block the view of the occasional patrol droid that would peak in the room on its rotation. You didn’t want to bring attention to the malfunction since word would get back to the Skakoans and there’d be too many questions. Your clone seemed to respond well, liking the closeness and human touch as much as you did. You hadn’t realized how touch starved you had become in the last two years. So you decided you’d dial the network control down more the next time so he could benefit more from some cuddles more lucidly.

But the next time didn’t happen.

Alarms blaring and the sound of blaster fire and shouting somewhere above in the tower woke you from a dream about that very thing. It was so vivid - men rescuing the clone and battleing a droid army with the local natives. You realized it was a memory and not just a dream and this place was in the central plot. Was that good or bad? There was a Jedi here you realized with excitement. The rest of it was still fuzzy but this was it, the rescue, and it had you changing and packing fast. You slung your duffel straps over your shoulder like a backpack, put your mask and goggles on and opened your door

-and there were Lenny and Squiggy.

“We have orders to evacuate you if we are attacked” said Lenny “ Follow us.” You sighed and followed them out to the elevator which opened to a smoking and gaping hole. The droids looked at eachother. “We will have to wait for the lift to be repaired to take you to the safe room at the base of the tower.”

“Ok well I’m going to go use the refresher, I’ll be right back ok? Thanks you guys, always my heros.” You tapped each of them on their snoots.

They puffed up and saluted you. “Roger Roger, ma’am. “

You did indeed go to the barrack’s refresher, but only to access the air ductwork through a panel that you figured was connected to the cooling system in the floor above. It was large enough for you to shimmy up through it using your arms and feet to brace and climb. You had your small duffel on your head, pushing it ahead of you as you wriggled and inched your way up and finally made it to the next grate.

Peeking through you could see the stasis room. A black ball hovered in the air near the open stasis chamber, jagged purple electric lighting streaking out of it touching all the surfaces. The man was gone, you noticed, and intense worry settled deep in your stomach. You decided to keep climbing to the next level. When you reached the next grate you pushed and pounded it with your fist and it popped out with a clatter. Dragging your duffel down and shoving it through the opening you reached through and braced your shoulders outside the hole. When you pulled yourself out into the room the shaft behind you shuddered with a blast of air. Something must have blown up down there. Now you were very concerned.

You were in the cooling system, it seemed from the chill. There were some muffled sounds down one of the passageways so you cautiously crept that way. A couple turns down the corridor you saw something odd on the floor. Crouching down you saw that it was the clone’s catheter and bag. Oh dang that couldn’t have felt good coming out. But good riddance. You thought grimly about his stoma that would need surgical correction. You looked up, hearing shouts.

After a time of picking and choosing twists and turns, following sounds you came to an opening to the outside and pressed yourself to the wall next to it. You had caught a glimpse of a blaster fight happening on the pipe that extended out to another tower. You peeked out and saw droids firing on soldiers and a Jedi who were standing and hanging off of the pipe. Then there was a horrible screeching noise and massive flying creatures swarmed the air around the tower. The Jedi shouted and jumped off, landing on a beast. Then another two. You saw one was your clone and you leaned out of the opening to get a better look. It was definitely him and he was flying away on one of the creatures. As the last of the men jumped onto the creatures the droids deployed their wings and flew after them.

Then it was all quiet except for the wind. You weren’t sure what to do now. So you sat against the wall tucked inside the tower and looked out to the other up in the clouds across the pipe. Their experiment was gone and the facility probably destroyed. Your contract would be ‘renegotiated’ for sure now. The door on the other side was still open. You could carefully walk across to it and you’d have a better chance at escape. You tried to stretch your mind out into the force but the collar was still too charged for a strong connection. Everything had happened so fast this morning and you felt a compulsion to see that your sweet clone, a main character and hero in this world, made it out safe. So you took a deep breath and stepped out onto the pipe.

Ch

This theme was inspired by an old story about a woman who nurses her imprisoned father. A number of classic paintings titled “Roman Charity” have depicted this scene including this one by Lorenzo Pasineli c.1670

Chapter 5