#sergeant Hatred big naturals

[sergeanthatredbignaturals]

[bowtiepastabitch]

Heaven's Not Homophobic in Good Omens, and Why That's Important

I need to preface this with, I am not trying to start a fight or argument and won't tolerate any homophobic or bad faith arguments in response to this. Cool? Cool.

This is in large part inspired by this ask from Neil's blog, which sparked some discourse that I don't want to get involved in but that brought up some analytic questions for me.

He goes on to reblog a question asking about Uriel's taunt specifically, clarifying that "boyfriend in the dark glasses" can just as easily be read/translated from angelic as girlfriend or bosom buddy. The idea is that an angel and a demon "fraternizing" is seriously looked down upon, not that heaven is homophobic. And that's super important.

We see homophobia in both the book and show, of course. Aziraphale is very queer-coded, intentionally and explicitly so, and we see the reaction of other humans to that several times. Sergeant Shadwell, for example, and the kid in the book that calls him the f-slur when he's doing magic at Warlock's birthday party. These are, however, individual human reactions to his coding as a gay man.

I am, personally, not a fan of heaven redemption theories for the show; no hate for people who want that it's just not something I'm interested in. I don't believe that heaven is good with bad leadership, or that God Herself remains as a paragon of virtue. To me, that's not in line with the themes and messages of the show. It's important, however, that heaven doesn't reflect human vices. Heaven can be nasty and selfish and apathetic in its own right without ableism, homophobia, transphobia, or racism. This matters for two reasons.

Firstly, we don't need the -isms and -phobias to be evil or at least ethically impure. In a world where we spend so much time fighting against prejudice and bigotry, our impulse is to see that reflected in characters whose motivations we distrust or who we're intended to dislike. While it's true that that's often the big bad evil in our daily lives, it can really cheapen the malice in fictional evil from a storytelling standpoint. A villain motivated by racism or as an allegory for homophobia can be incredibly compelling, but not every bad guy can be the physical representation of an -ism. Art reflects the reality in which it's crafted, but the complexity of human nature and the evil it's capable of can't be simplified to a dni list.

Secondly, and I think more importantly, is that for Good Omens specifically, this places the responsibility for homophobia on humanity. If you're in this fandom, there's like a 98% chance you've been hurt by religion in some way. For a lot of us, that includes religious homophobia and hate, so it makes sense to want to project that onto the 'religious' structure of Good Omens. It's a story that is, in many ways, about religious trauma and abuse. However, if heaven itself held homophobic values, it would canonize in-universe the idea that heaven and religion itself are responsible for all humanity's -isms and -phobias and absolve humans of any responsibility. Much like Crowley emphasizes repeatedly that the wicked cruelty he takes responsibility for is entirely human-made, we have to accept that heaven can't take the blame for this. To make heaven, the religious authority, homophobic would simply justify religious bigotry from humans. By taking the blame for religious extremism and hatred away from heaven and the religious structure, Good Omens makes it clear that the nastiness of humanity is uniquely and specially human and forces the individual to take responsibility rather than the system. Hell isn't responsible for the Spanish Inquisition, which by the way was religiously motivated if you didn't know, and heaven isn't responsible for Ronald Reagan.

This idea is perhaps more strongly and explicitly expressed in the Good Omens novel, in the scene where Aziraphale briefly possesses a televangelist on live TV. It's comedic, yes, but also serves to demonstrate that human concepts of the apocalypse and religious fervor are deeply incorrect (in gomens universe canon) and condemn exploitation of faith practices. Pratchett and Gaiman weave a great deal of complexity into the way religion and religious values are portrayed in the book, especially in the emphasis on heaven and hell being essentially the same. They're interested in the concept of what it means to be uniquely and unabashedly human, the good and the bad, and part of that is forcing each individual person to bear the brunt of responsibility for their own actions rather than passing it off onto a greater religious authority.

Additionally, from a fan perspective, there's something refreshing about a very queer story where homophobia isn't the primary (or even a side) conflict. The primary narrative of Good Omens isn't that these two man-shaped-beings are gay, it's that they're an angel and a demon. The tension in their romantic arc arises entirely from the larger conflict of heaven and hell, and things like gender and sexuality don't really matter at all. Yes, homophobia and transphobia are very real, present issues in our everyday lives, but they don't have to be central to every story we tell. There's something really soothing about Crowley and Aziraphale being so queer-coded and so clearly enamored with each other without constantly being bombarded with homophobia and hate. It's incredible to see a disabled angel whose use of a mobility aid makes no difference in their role and to see angels and demons using they/them pronouns without being questioned or misgendered. It's all accepted and normalized, and that's the kind of representation that we as queer people deserve.

[lilis-doodle-dome]

Fullmetal Luminary Alchemist

Tenma siblings (16 & 17) but everything is so much worse! Also Toya (16) is Winry, but Toya and Tsukasa do not have a romantic relationship.

I didn't see any reason to change the armor visually, except things the siblings would change themselves (decoration basically) so the hair thing is separated and dyed pink at the tips to look more like Saki's hair and the loin cloth is frilly and decorated (both of these things Tsukasa did for Saki to help her feel more comfortable)

Instead of dead parents, both of Toya's older brothers were drafted and killed instead. Also Toya's mom is a surgeon (regular) so she helps him out with some stuff, but can only do so much since she isn't specialized in automail

Then there's Prince Rui Kamishiro (17) and his two shadows, Nene (17) and Mizuki (21). Later on, when he gets injected with Greed he becomes Avarui

The other Xingese emperor candidate whose come to amestris in search of immortality is Emu Ootori (14)! With a little rabbit friend in tow. She's a big fan of the Luminary Alchemist she's heard so many stories of!

Tsukasa’s CO is Colonel Shinonome managed by her loyal, ever-present Lieutenant Asahina . Ena is still called the flame alchemist, since she still uses flame alchemy as her specialty

The other members of the team are: Sergeant Azusawa (Breda), Warrant officer Hinomori (Falman), 2nd lieutenant Shiraishi (Havoc), and 2nd lieutenant Hoshino (Feury). And Ena's best friend is, of course, Lieutenant colonel Momoi (Hughes). Married to Shizuku with a beautiful daughter!

Finally in this lineup, we have Akito (16) as Paninya. Kinda,

It's a bit more complicated because he is also Ena's younger brother and she is our Colonel Mustang in this au-

So more exactly, he and Ena are adoptive siblings, both taken in by Madame Christmas. Mme Chris paid/called in a favor for Akito's Automail surgery and he's incredibly grateful to her for everything she and the girls have done for him.

That's why he started working at Ken's shop (where he got the automail) as an errand boy/ extra pair of hands. Ken is still a father figure to him in this au, so he's happy to work there and wants to pay back Ken too

Originally Ena was also included in those he felt grateful toward, the two were actually very close, but then she joined the military. Originally this wasn't a problem, but she was gone for a long time and when she got back she was basically a different person.

Akito tried to help or at least witnessed some of her worst moments once back (think the Gracia's pie scene) and he was horrified, by what the military had done to his sister, and innocent people, and what his sister had done too.

This caused him to form a deep hatred for the military, which turned to a grudge against Ena when she decides to continue and even climb the ranks in the broken system of the military

He starts adding pickpocketing to his ways of making money, especially from military folks when they show up, he likes the rush and it makes him feel vindicated to hurt anything military

This is of course how Akito ends up stealing Tsukasa's watch, cue first rush valley episode (minus childbirth) and by the end Toya ends up working at Ken's shop too, but as an apprentice automailer

Gay romance ensues, with a lot of Toya picking at Akito's automail and Akito suffering

Since An is Havoc in this au, she is originally working for Ena, but then gets injured and heads back to the shop to help out. Which is obviously pretty awkward with Akito, but they start talking it out over time

I think this is around the time Ena and Akito start rebuilding their relationship, using An and her good nature as a bridge, enough so that by the end Akito helps out with the coupe (not going to the fight or anything, just handling supplies they send to Team Ena and stuff)

[pyroclastic-bro]

If Sergeant Hatred wasnt a coward then he'd donate his big naturals to those in need (hunter gathers)

[overcastedsays]

I am living on the edge getting these refs done so close to art fight

The biggest fan-favorite NPC couple from the wacky homebrew campaign I run (the players do nothing but make their lives harder. it's very funny)

Oliver is the Warden of Polsjaran, a City located in one of the many In-Betweens of the Universe (think Ethereal Plane but bigger scale). Having just barely graduated from his apprenticeship, he was unexpectedly chosen by the (now dead) previous Warden of Polsjaran to take on the role. His job is supposed to be making sure the environment of the Polsjaran In-Between and the Planes it connects to are stable, but the political rivals of the previous Warden managed to put just about as many restrictions on his abilities as they could until they deemed him "fit to hold the position". In the meantime, he's taking a more hands on approach to fixing the many, many problems with his surrounding planes. He's a big fan of bugs, plants, ecosystems, vivariums, and nature photography. Don't ask him about any of these unless you're prepared for a 4 hour infodump minimum.

Vermillion is a Sergeant in one of Polsjaran's bordering planes, The Mirrored Sea. Despite his title, he has very little power in the Mirrored sea and has been trying to distance himself from his as much as he can. He manages a small team of 5 soldiers "guarding" one of the physical entrances to Polsjaran, but in reality spends most of his time in Polsjaran trying to fix the current situation in the Mirrored Sea as best as he can. He has a much better way with actions than he does words and really just needs a break. Sword lover and secret marine biology enthusiast. Deep down just wants to be an accountant or something.

They originally met bonding over their shared hatred for their respective governments and the positions they were forced to take up because of them. Born to be Anarchist forced to Government Official.

[fictional-men-enthusiast]

“Sergeant Hatred’s big naturals!”

I shout from the mountaintops.

[kindasortasalty]

post sergeant hatred big naturals 

[the-white-soul]

So this is unwinnable, a situation not even a god can tamper with... You really are so horrid you remind me of someone, but enough on me, I can't make an offer nor do I care about what happens since well my worlds been dead for a long fucking time, I'm just the lingering remains of what could have been. So I ask the Final question. Why? Why go through with all this trouble I mean ha ha don't you have better things to do? or are you just doing this for petty reasons, a simple yet undying hatred for them? Perhaps a desire to prove one self is better? Maybe a want to destroy them all? Either way, they need me and well I can't stay forever ya know. so Remember this Bucko. I Have NOTHING TO LOSE. *Anon Vanishes*

(Jack) "I know you can't hear me anymore but that's the one similarity we have. Chara was my life. They're dead."

(Sergeant) "Did you hear everything else he said?"

(Jack) "Of course! Asgore killed my beloved Chara. Not with bullets or mind games, worse than all of that. He put thoughts in their head! Now they hate me! My Chara used to be submissive and agreeable. *Thought back* Yes, so damn submissive. Pretty as well. More pretty than my own wife. Why would I get a gross wife? Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder I guess."

(Sergeant) "Uh, do your belongings still work?"

(Jack) "Believe me, it's fine!"

(Sergeant) "You're not in love with your own child right?"

(Jack) "Are you calling me a pedo?! *Grabs his neck* Cause if there's one thing I'm not it's a pedo! Understand?"

(Sergeant) "Please don't kill me."

(Jack) "I never fire my coworkers. They all seem to make mistakes before they leave, which makes them unable to keep going. It's a weird coincidence! I don't know why it happens but if you believe in that don't make me attempt to fire you."

(Police Officer #53) "Constable, Asgore has returned!"

(Jack) "Perfect. Put him in a room with me. I have a lot to talk about with him! *Asgore is pushed in forcefully screaming to leave and strapped onto a chair like in a psych ward.*"

(Asgore) "What are you going to do to me?"

(Jack) "Well, you froze up in court! That's a pretty big deal! You know, when Chara hurt it hurt right in my heart like being stabbed a hundred times! Unfortunately, I can never give you the same amount of pain as I had, but I can get close! You know Flowey came to me!"

(Asgore) "He did? *Started sweating profusely* I swear I had nothing to do with it! Also, I loved Chara! I know that's why you're mad! I didn't want them to die I promise!"

(Jack) "You didn't? So bizarre! I've just thought of a punishment for you! *Grabbed Asgore's eyelids and forced them open. Then put a picture of Chara at a young age.* Because you love Chara so much, I'll let you look at this picture I found of him for as long as I want! You won't even have to blink! That'll be heaven for you! You killed this kid so you must really love them!"

(Asgore) "*It felt fine for a few moments. Then the water started coming and suddenly he started feeling a burning sensation.* Stop this please I'll do anything!"

(Jack) "No, let's look at my beautiful kid a bit longer!"

(Asgore) "*The water made him almost unable to see. He could only see everything so blurry he couldn't even tell that Chara was a human anymore. The eyes went bloodshot and it got worse and worse.*"

(Jack) "One of my favorite stories to tell little Chara was the turtle and the scorpion. It perfectly describes the reason our kinds can never get along. It's just in your nature to be terrible vermin to the world! Even if it would kill all of us!"

(Asgore) "Monsters aren't like that!"

(Jack) "Well if that's true maybe scorpions aren't either! I have a pet scorpion I call Sorpy! Sorpy is a very well-trained boy! So if they are trained very well maybe they won't sting you in the eye if I get close enough!"

(Asgore) "No, I've heard that some of them can feel terrible on normal skin."

(Jack) "*Put the scorpion right next to Asgore's eyes and it stabbed him. It bled out. Asgore was done talking and just started screaming.* I'm going to leave you alone now! *Walked out of the room while Asgore was in the closest to hell he's ever been to.*"

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Chapter Five

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, Mentions of war, military technicalities, slight angst, fluff, implied smut

A/N: Well Hello! Our dear Captain Alex has finally made an appearance! A big thank you to @thelastsock​ who is patiently beta-reading this, I love you woman with my whole heart.

<Chapter Four

Title: Chapter Five

The sun felt scorching hot on her skin as Olivia loaded her gun near the parked Humvees. A mild throbbing at the base of her skull added to the uncomfortable sensations each time she moved. She hadn’t planned to drink almost half a bottle of whiskey last night, but it was cold, and she needed the warmth.

Also, the drink had sort of been a gift from Sy.

Olivia groaned as the memories from last night flashed through her mind. She had literally invited him for a kiss, throwing herself on her Captain like a wanton whore. She felt embarrassed even thinking about it. Thankfully for her, Sy had a better judgement about entertaining drunk women and had resorted to just giving her a tight hug.

Her stomach felt queasy as a sour taste filled her mouth. She swallowed as the uncomfortable feeling set at the pit of her stomach. Running a hand over her sweat covered forehead, Olivia rested against the vehicle.

She felt worthless. Olivia couldn't shake the feeling of repeating history, despite the extreme effort of will she put her hungover mind to this time. She slung her gun over her shoulder as a distant memory of her time with Alex began flashing before her eyes.

The sound of their hurried footsteps on the marble floor echoed through the empty hall. It was almost noon, the temperature soaring high and drinks becoming difficult to keep down. Alex chuckled as Olivia pulled him towards a bathroom door, not caring whether it was for the ladies or the gents. She had been begging for Alex’s attention ever since they got to the wedding party for a fellow soldier, downing an unusual amount of alcohol before finally gathering up the courage to whisper naughty things in his ear. She had been hung over her Captain for far too long, it was time for her to finally taste him.

Olivia massaged her temple with her fingers. She had been so stupid and naïve to start something with Alex. Her Captain. She regretted it now more than ever, 3 years of hookups later. Alex had been her friend since she re-enlisted again after completing her Aviation course. Though to tell the truth she'd been crushing on him since she first laid eyes on his beautiful face. His unbridled confidence, panty-melting smile and boyish charm had worked its magic on Olivia’s mind. It wasn’t something she thought of pursuing on a long-term basis, but his sweet nature only kept driving her closer to him. She liked that he showered her with affection all the time, something her attention-starved mind craved desperately. Only she had mistaken her lust for love.

“Really? Here? You know our seniors are present out on the lawn.” Alex snickered as Olivia began undoing his belt. His blazing eyes sparkled with what was to come next, the anticipation dancing in his beautiful orbs. Dinners together had turned into overnight stays and eventually Olivia had kissed Alex one night, crossing the line of friendship with no turning back.

“We are on leave, aren’t we?” She had suggestively smiled at him, palming his bulge through his pants. She leaned in to kiss Alex, feeling the softness of his lips brushing against hers. She felt her arousal beginning to wet through the thin fabric of her panties as Alex plunged his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth.

Olivia grinned mischievously as she hopped on the sink counter pulling Alex by his tie to stand between her legs. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pulled her in to steal another kiss. She unzipped his pants as Alex began trailing down her neck, planting soft kisses over her warm skin and cupping her breast through her dress.

“I don’t have a condom,” Alex said against the skin peeking just above her breast.

“I’m on the pill,” she shrugged and pulled his hardening cock out of its constraints. It pulsated in her hand as she pumped him. Alex groaned into her soft skin and nipped at her in retaliation, making her hiss with pleasure. She bit her lip as she watched him take over his cock and enter her aching folds. Alex let out an unrestrained moan as her warmth enveloped his throbbing member.

“Happy birthday, little birdie.” Olivia blinked as Sy appeared in front of her, smiling from under his cap. He was dressed in his combat fatigues, the vest making him look bigger than he already was. “Hangover?”

Olivia shook her head, warmth spreading over her chest as the vivid memories registered in her mind. “Just…uh, regular headache.” She smiled at her Captain. Her eyes lingered on his, mesmerized yet again by the intensely blue orbs looking back at her. She noticed the freckles on his nose and his lip and the changing shade of brown of his beard as it travelled down his neck.

“Maybe later we can have some chai while we watch the sunset?” Sy leaned against the metal body of the Humvee, one hand resting low on his hip.

Olivia tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrow. “Sunset? You do realize I fly a chopper for a living? I’ve seen my fair share of sunsets and sunrises by now.”

“But you haven’t seen a sunset with me.” A smirk formed on Sy’s lips, challenging her for another excuse.

Olivia felt a flutter in the pit of her belly and her mouth opened as she was rendered speechless. She felt herself balancing over the same dangerously thin line again. In a weird sense, this didn’t feel the same for her like it was with Alex. With him she had felt a rush of becoming reckless, but with Sy she wanted to be cautious, mindful. When he had kissed her forehead last night and embraced her, she had never felt more safe in the world like she did in that moment.

“Okay.” She nodded, “Rooftop like last night?” Olivia suggested as her unit members began getting into the Humvees, ready to head out. Sy tipped his cap in confirmation before walking towards his own team and barking orders to mount up.

Out in the desert, Olivia spent the rest of her day interacting with the locals and listening to their problems. She was following Lieutenant Pepps's orders about sympathizing with the public, to ensure they get local support in the future. As she listened to a weeping woman complain about the scarcity of food, her mind drifted back to a memory with Alex.

“What changed, Liv?” Alex pulled at her wrist, turning her around to face him. Olivia yanked at his hold, trying to free herself from his grasp. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Alex,” She pleaded, closing her eyes to escape this conversation. She had spent time in Afghanistan and the things she’d seen had changed her. She had seen the fragile nature of life and understood it was useless to be wasting her precious years on someone she only cared about as a friend.

“Tell me, Liv.” His voice was laced with anger, his eyes burning with hatred. “Tell me you don’t love me so that I can remove myself from your life. Because I can’t be your friend, not after all this.” He let go of her hand, slumping his shoulders as his eyes misted with tears and he fell on his knees.

Liv felt the weight of her actions crumbling her down in front of him. She never intended to hurt him, but she couldn’t love him, at least not the way he wanted her to. The possibility of losing her friend forever made her emotions win over her determination to end things with him. “I’m sorry, Alex. I’ll do better. I’m so sorry.”

Olivia sighed as she watched the sun slowly drift towards the horizon casting an orange hue over the sky. She had never gathered the courage to break things with Alex again. He had tried labelling them in a relationship, but she had avoided the topic like the plague. Their arrangement worked as they were deployed to different locations which gave her time away from him, only forcing her to pretend when they were on leave together. She grasped the Saint Christopher medal lying against her chest in her hand and felt the consequences of her actions pricking at her heart.

“Hey,” Sy called out from the doorstep leading out on the roof. He had a canteen in one hand and two cups in another. Liv had walked up to the roof as soon as they had returned to base. The parked white truck had indicated that Sy was back too but since there still had been time until sunset, she had decided to wait out alone on the roof.

“Hey,” she cleared her throat, shaking her head to ward away thoughts about Alex. She smiled weakly at Sy and walked towards him.

Sy frowned with his eyebrows scrunching together. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Did Mahmoud make the chai for us?” She changed the subject, sitting on the pile of sandbags against a wall.

“No, I did.” Sy proudly informed as he took a seat beside her.

Olivia watched as Sy poured the steaming cardamom tea in the cups and handed one to her. She breathed in the aroma before taking a sip of the hot liquid. “Incredible. When did you learn to make chai?”

“Picked up the recipe over the years.” He shrugged his shoulders, but Olivia noticed his chest puff up with pride on getting complimented on his acquired skill. Sy turned to face towards the expanse of the desert beyond the compound, silently sipping his tea.

“Captain Syverson, man of many talents.” She said in a sing-song voice and leaned back against the wall, bringing her knees up to her chest and holding her cup with both her hands.

Liv watched as Sy chuckled, his shoulders shaking with his laughter. The hair of his beard over his upper lip glistened with steam caught in it, almost urging her to wipe her hand over his mouth.

“You are staring, little birdie.” He looked at her sideways, his lips curling at the corners.

Liv rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched with a smile forming on them. “What’s with the nickname?”

“Well you fly the Little Bird, so that makes you little Birdie.”

She laughed as he finished his sentence, looking at him to see if he was joking. “How original, Sy.” She shook her head dismissively, but a fluttery feeling settled in her heart.

“Hey, I didn’t want to call you by the names everyone used.” He defended himself, feigning hurt dramatically by clutching his left pec over his heart.

Liv continued to laugh thinking about the silly reason behind the nickname, but adding it to the list of names she already had. They sat in silence, enjoying their tea as they watched the sun dipping down the horizon with every passing minute. The sky burst into a mixed palette of orange and purple, the clouds drifting away with the wind.

She felt Sy’s eyes on her as she sipped the remnants of tea from her cup. She bit her lip feeling mischievous and commented, “You’re staring, Captain.” She tilted her head to look at him, only to feel her breath hitch as she stared into his cerulean eyes. Sy had the softest look on his face, his smile barely visible from under the bush of his beard.

“What?” She asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Who’s Captain Coop?”

His question caught Olivia off-guard and she blinked several times to understand that Sy had indeed asked about Alex. “Wh-what?” She tried to not stumble over her words but Sy had left her stunned.

“Yesterday, they were teasing you with his name. I just thought I should ask.” Sy’s gaze never left her face, even when he placed his cup to the side along with hers and the empty canteen.

Liv let out a slow, ragged breath. The mention of Alex’s nickname had her heart racing, her mind going through a carousel of his memories. “He was our captain, before you. My men...they were just… fooling around.” She plucked a jute strand from the sandbag she was sitting on, avoiding Sy’s stare.

She felt him shift on the bag and when she peered, she noticed him coming to stand in front of her. Liv looked up at him as his body loomed over hers. He bent down so as his face was right in front of her.

“So, you’re saying, I don’t have to worry about another man in your life?” His voice was low, and his breath felt warm against her skin.

“N-no. Why?” She gulped as her throat became dry. She watched as Sy licked his lips wet and smiled at her.

“Because I am going to kiss you and I ain’t gonna kiss some other man’s girl.” Sy whispered and waited for her to answer. A slight nod of her head was all he needed as he brought his lips down on hers, placing a soft and gentle kiss over her desirous lips.

Liv closed her eyes as the feeling of his lips sent sparks down her spine. The coarse hairs of his beard grazed against her face as she moved her lips against his. Sy placed his hand over her cheeks as he moved his lips with hers, darting his tongue out seeking permission to enter. She grabbed a hold of his t-shirt and another at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer to her and opened her mouth slightly to grant him access.

The minutes felt like they stretched into hours as Sy’s tongue danced against hers. She could taste the faint taste of cardamom on his tongue and breathe in his musky scent as she willingly deprived herself of oxygen. Panting as their lungs struggled to take in air, Sy let go of her with a last pull on her bottom lip.

When Olivia opened her eyes, the sun had set beyond the horizon and darkness was falling over the desert. Sy let out a slow breath as he grazed his knuckles over her cheek. She felt herself leaning in his touch as her breathing came back to normal.

“Sunsets and kisses, aren’t you a romantic Syverson?” She teased, biting her lower lip between her teeth.

Sy chuckled. “Told you our first kiss would be memorable.” Sy shrugged his shoulders with a cheeky smile, before pulling Liv up for another breathtaking kiss.

Chapter Six>

🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟

[utterlyinevitable]

After seeing ur explanation for that anon i really want to see a fic or a hc of ethan as a dad and becca as mom can u please do it??

omg okay ahhh my babys having babies. this is gonna be long and idk if it’ll make sense bc imma jot down everything i know about domestic e&b.  

[just finished and... this is long and broken down into 6 categories........... enjoy!]

Ethan & Becca as Parents

The Pregnancy 

They didn’t plan on having children, it just kind of happened. Becca and Ethan took a day for the news to settle before they jumped into excited, expecting parents mode.

The most exciting part was renovating the condo to make the most perfect nursery and shopping for decorations and mentally planning all the traditions and things they’d love to give to their little family. 

All of the happiness couldn’t mask the struggles of pregnancy. 

Becca hated being pregnant. She was sick and nauseous constantly, and her back and feet always ached. 

Throughout the whole thing Ethan doted on her; holding her hair back and learning how to tie it up in the way she likes, rubbing her back, running out to get whatever she was craving. 

He even made copious amounts of notes about her eating patterns. Enough to keep two of everything in the condo. 

If she was having a restless night, he would too; even if she was restless for non-human-growing reasons. 

They were in this together.

And even when she was huddled over a garbage pail, dribble running down her chin, she never looked more beautiful to him. 

There was just something about all this that made him feel all weird and fuzzy inside. 

When her symptoms barely settled throughout the second trimester she overhauled her entire birthing plan. There was no way she was making it to 42 weeks. She was absolutely miserable. So she made a c-section appointment for 40 weeks. 

She had an entire argument with Ethan one evening (she really was only yelling while he nodded his head). Her main points were:  “It’s my body and the baby will be fine. I was born 6 weeks early and I turned out fantastic!” and  “Once the baby’s out of me I’m still going to have to pee. Omg what if she rips me open!? How am I supposed to use the bathroom without worrying about my stitches?”  

All he kept reiterating was:  “I love you. I trust you and your instincts.” 

Becca felt better as he held her face in his large hands, his calming azure eyes boring into hers and letting her know everything will be alight. 

But deep down she spent the next few weeks since making the appointment wondering if she should have given vaginal birth a try. She didn’t want Ethan to resent her for chickening out of her body’s natural function. 

The Birth 

Becca made it to her c-section appointment. Happily rubbing her large belly and glowing:  “I can’t wait to not be pregnant anymore! Never do this to me again.” 

All Ethan did was chuckle. 

He was happy she was getting color back and that her symptoms finally settled enough for her to spend the last few weeks enjoying their daughters kicks. But oh my god was Ethan Ramsey terrified of being a father. 

He wouldn’t tell Becca though. She was emotional and worried enough as is. Any and all his concerns were saved for the short conversations he had with his father.  “Don’t overthink it, son. The moment you lay eyes on your daughter you’ll know what to do. It’s instinct. Biology. That was your best subject in school, wasn’t it?” Alan would joke.  

The surgery went off without a hitch. 

All of Becca’s hatred for the phenomenon of pregnancy vanished the second the nurse placed their daughter on her chest. 

Rebecca was in awe. She made that! This little person came out of her! This little pink person that looks like a plucked chicken with a tiny tuft of brown hair was here and she was beautiful. The perfect combination of her and Ethan. 

The embodiment of their love.   

Dakota Dolores Ramsey was completely unplanned. Unplanned but not unwanted.  

The first time Ethan Ramsey held his daughter time froze. The universe needed a minute to process the broad grin and full heart thumping rapidly from this stoic and reserved man. 

The earth was about to spin the wrong way but then Dakota opened her eyes.

Everything was the way divinity had planned it.  

At Home

Although Ethan and Becca lived a 10 minutes drive from Edenbrook, nearly a straight run, Becca forced him to drive as slow as possible. 

Dakota was asleep and she needed to keep it that way. 

Due to her stitches, Becca was forced to take things easy. No matter how many times she argued with Ethan that she was capable of menial tasks around the house. 

Ethan would not let her lift a finger. 

If Dakota needed a change he’d happily do it. if Becca was hungry he’d make her favorite. 

“You had her to yourself for nine months. Let me take the next few days.” Becca went to retort, all she wanted was to hold her baby for the rest of eternity. She’d never tire of looking at her scrunched up potato face and watching as her features changed every moment of every day. “I promise to share.” “You better,” she kissed him as he tucked her into bed for a much needed nap.

The only thing he was forced to share with his partner was feeding duty - Becca was adamant on breast feeding. A bottle would not touch their daughters lips for months to come. 

That in itself brought its own challenges. 

Most nights Ethan laid in bed with Becca curled up at his side in one arm and Dakota resting on his bare chest. 

Parenting was weird, but an exhilarating change. 

Ethan couldn’t diagnose what he could have possibly have done right in his life to be this wholly happy. 

The Second

Once Ethan and Becca had one child they were both itching for a second.

“You know what say: ‘if you have one you have to have two’.” “Is that so?”  “You don’t want Dakota to have a sibling?”  “I was an only child and look how I turned out.”  “Emotionally stunted and certified loner?” she teased. 

Truth be told, Ethan wanted another. He’s been thinking of giving his pride and joy a few siblings for weeks now. He just didn’t know how to tell Becca. 

Becca complained frequently about how happy she was to not be pregnant, and often about how her scar healed funnily. 

All of the signs pointed to her not wanting another. And Ethan was okay with that. He never expected to have one child. He’d cherish every moment of what’s been placed right in his fingertips. 

He’ll let his soon-to-be wife choose their path. She’s dictated everything else thus far. Ethan was elated she chose him to be along for the ride. 

After Dakota’s first birthday, when they made the decision to have another, they tried desperately to conceive.

“I really don’t want to have to deal with diapers for five years,” was Becca’s main reason for keeping the kids close in age.  “We can try surrogacy.” Ethan offered, knowing how much she hated pregnancy. He didn’t want to push her into anything.    “No. I have to do it. I’ll do it for our kids. But you owe me big time.”  

And 14 months later Caroline Marie Ramsey made her grand appearance. 

And Becca got her first push present. 

The Last 

It’s fitting that four years later Ethan and Becca were blessed with another surprise. 

Her pregnancy with James Jonah was the smoothest of them all. 

Of course that meant something had to go wrong. 

At 34 weeks Becca went into premature vaginal labor. 

Within six hours their baby boy arrived. 5lbs 2oz and looking like an alien. 

Ethan almost lost them both after the fact. 

Becca lost too much blood with the placenta and JJ was so tiny.  

But the Lao’s were fighters and they pulled through. Ethan cried at her bedside once the harrowing 24 hours were up. 

Becca stayed at the hospital for a week, Ethan and Alan bringing the girls to visit every single day. 

JJ had to stay a few days longer and Becca refused to leave until she could bring her son home. 

She went through her first experience with postpartum depression. Becca didn’t think anything could be worse than the mental toll her abortion had on her years earlier. But she was wrong.

She was so wrong. 

All their friends chipped in to help take care of the kids while Ethan devoted his time to helping his wife. The couple went to therapy, sometimes together, other times Ethan sat in the waiting room as Becca worked through her emotions. 

Months later, the parents were sitting at home. Ethan held their son and their daughters were curled on their laps: He muttered into his wife’s hair, “I’d like to have one more.”  “Not with me you’re not,” she scoffed. “We’re outnumbered as is.” 

JJ began to cry and the girls stirred. Dakota mumbling, “Tell the baby to shut up, I’m sleeping here.” 

They couldn’t help but laugh and pull apart to put their whole world to bed.  

Old and graying and spending more time at home with his kids, Ethan wanted just one more baby. Four was a strong, even number. He could have a whole daycare full of them - each one the best variations of him and Becca. 

Becca had spent a large portion of her 30s childrearing and she’s done. Done with diapers and formula, especially. She loves her children more than anything but they’re exhausting. She can’t wait for them to be in school full time and she can have some more alone time with her husband. It’s been so long since it’s been just them too.  

“Don’t hate me...”  “I could never hate you,” Ethan said as he brushed a few strands of hair from his wife’s face.  She swallowed and confidently said, “I want you to get a vasectomy.” 

He agreed without further consideration. She made a very compelling argument.  

Parenting 

Ethan is the doting helicopter dad and Becca is doctor drill sergeant. The kids get away with nothing under their mother’s watch. 

Ethan is very soft and adores his children. The grumpy attending could have a whole gaggle of them. He spoils his daughters rotten, picking up the newest doll and toy they’re obsessed with, and making them promise not to tell mommy. 

The women in Ethan’s life get away with everything and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When the girls were born, Ethan stepped back at work letting the better Dr. Ramsey have her career defining moments.

He took half days to pick the girls up from preschool and would bring them to the park or museums. He’d even try to teach them to cook their favorite recipes on cold, rainy days. He’d tire them out so that he and mom could tuck them in after dinner.

Ethan’s afraid of his son. He’s afraid the tot is going to turn out exactly like him - he’s the spitting image, except that his hair curls like his mother’s. 

Instead of putting JJ in fulltime daycare, Ethan chose part time preschool. The girls were in primary school now and he’s taken a bigger step back from the hospital after the baby was born. 

He devotes all his free time to teaching his son about all he knows and learning all he doesn’t.  

Becca complains about the state of her vagina and stomach all the time. Never in front of the children but often enough Ethan knows the look on her face right before she says the same two lines.  

Her favorite activity is building forts and taking the kids to the beach. 

The holidays have never felt more alive with the full house. Ethan even became a Christmas and Valentines Day lover. 

Becca loved watching him change over the years. Every new first they celebrated with each child, every one of their kids passions, Ethan would adopt them all and make it his mission to be a connoisseur of every facet.

Dakota sat her parents down one day with a serious topic of conversation: “Mommy, Daddy. I’m going to be a fashion designer.” “Will you?”  “Yes. And I need to dress myself.” “As long as it’s weather appropriate, consider it done.”  “And we need to get supplies.” 

The conversation went on for 15 minutes with Ethan and Becca asking questions and Dakota making demands. Once they’ve settled on an agreement on how to make their daughter’s dream happen, Ethan retired to his office. He taught himself the basics of sewing.     

Even with all the struggles of raising three children in a suburb of Boston while balancing very demanding medical careers, Ethan and Becca wouldn’t have it any other way. The life they carved out of all their complications was worth it.  

All of this was inevitable. 

And they wouldn’t take a moment for granted.    

________________________________________

Um... this became bigger than intended... If you made it this far, thank you ♥

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[eugenesmorphine]

I really love how you write Ronald Speirs! Can I request something like the reader is one of Easy's medics and they're all protective over them but no one knows that the reader and Speirs are married so they're all trying to keep him away from them and something happens where Easy finds out about their marriage? Sorry if that doesn't make any sense and you don't have to write it if you don't want too :)

Secret Love /// Ronald Speirs Imagine

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @punkgeekchic @valterras @floydtab @adamantiumdragonfly

Words: 3,337

   Y/N hummed while carrying a crate within her arms. Lugging the crate alongside Perconte. Frank glanced down at the female’s arms and how the strained ever so slightly while she carried the crate. Looking back up at her helmet slipped down in front of her eyes. The big medic cross on the helmet showing even more. Perconte scoffed slightly as he looked at her and slipped her helmet back on top of the paratrooper’s head.

   “You sure you don’t need help there Y/N? I can hold it if you would like, can’t have those medic hands of yours hurting,” he smiled warmly at her. Y/N just scoffed slightly and shook her head. Tightening her grip on the wooden crate. Sure it was heavy, but Y/N didn’t want nor needed any help. The guys just always wanted to help her. Like the “gentlemen” they are. 

   “I told you before, Frank. I don’t need any help. I’ve carried grown men they weigh more than the both of us,” she told him as she continued to walk. Her boots squishing in the mud just a bit. The pair walked past Captain Speirs, and Captain Winters. Y/N shot a small smile towards Speirs. Speirs just softened his eyes and turned his face away. Smiling slightly. While Frank just watched her in awe. Tugging the female along.

   “Y/N, what the hell are you doing?! No one just smiles at Speirs unless they want a death wish!” he exclaimed. Y/N just shrugged and smiled to herself. Not too fazed by it, unlike Perconte was more than surprised. Everyone seemed to fear Speirs. A Captain that was full of anger. The horror stories men told about him. And a girl of her size- just smiling and making eye contact with him, and just not fazed whatsoever. 

  What the men didn’t know was both Y/N and Ronald Speirs were married. They had been together for more than a few years. But to avoid conflict of interest, they barely met up with each other and kept quiet about their relationship. The only people to know of their relationship were the officers. And they even kept their mouths shut.

   The few times they would come see each other was late at night when there were no emergencies for either of them to take care of. It was odd that they ended up together. Two completely different people. Y/N was a medic who was known to have a gentle touched that healed many. A set of soft E/C eyes that were warm and welcome. Whilst Ronald Speirs was a man of not hatred, but seemed like it. A hard exterior with what seemed like an even harder interior. A man feared by almost every soldier and Kraut. But not even that kept Y/N away.

///

   The two had met during Paratrooper training. Even though Y/N was a part of Easy Company, she was busy patching up one of his soldiers after a group training exercise. Nothing serious, but Speirs had to go and collect his soldier. 

  He had approached Y/N as she was bandaging up a private’s arm after he fell and cut it up pretty good. Mistaking Y/N for a nurse and questioning why she was on the post since medics were only allowed. Which Y/N turned and smiled up at him. And that is when a jolt of electricity shot through his body. She simply just responded with, “No, sir. I’m the third combat medic with Easy Company, sir. First woman in the airbourne to experience real combat.” She was all proud. And that is what intrigued Ronald all in the start of it all. A woman to make it this far and make her way to get to go on the front lines of combat during World War II was a huge deal. 

   From that day forward, the two began to bump into each other more and more. Almost like fate brought them together. Sooner or later, they just got together. They disclosed the information to Winters and the other officers, and decided just to keep it quiet with the other men so it wouldn’t seem like favoritism. But they loved each other more than ever, they just kept an eye out for each other on the field, they snuck kisses behind the large trucks when no one was around, it showed their own type of love during such a time in history.

///

  Dropping the crate off into one of the larger trucks, she felt Liebgott come and help her push it in. Rolling her eyes she looked up at the lanky man with an annoyed look. “When will the two of you get it through your skulls that I don’t need you guys taking care of me? I can take care of myself!” she exclaimed. Taking a moment to stand on her toes to reach into a few crates to grab some supplies that she needed to refill. That was before they pushed her back slightly to dive their hands in there to hand her some gauze and wraps. Morphine and stitches. Y/N groaned and just stomped her foot. While the boys seemed to not care, just chuckling and helping her.

   Ronald and Richard watched the group of three from afar. Ronald crossed his arms as he watched. Winters just chuckled and shook his head slightly. Turning towards his fellow officer. “Are you ever going to actually tell the men? It’s been what? Two… three years now? You guys are married. The men wouldn’t care, Speirs. Plus, they are trying to shelter her away from you,” he snickers. Only receiving a heavy and agitated sigh from the soldier besides him. Frankly, Ronald and Y/N had no particular reason to hide their relationship from the guys. They just kind of did. Never ones to disclose or talk about themselves all that much. They just naturally were private. Their relationship was more of a relationship in private. Work was work. War was war. And that is how they always enjoyed it the past three years.

  “Man I don’t know, Dick. It just turns out that way, Y/N doesn’t seem to mind. It seems to keep rumors down, you know,” he said honestly. Captain Ronald Speirs was a difficult man to read. And even harder to understand. But oddly, Dick Winters understood. Another chuckle leaving the redhead’s lips as he shook his head slightly.

   “Whatever you say, Speirs. Get your men ready. We are pushing through Foy,” he told him. Patting his shoulder softly and turning to walk. Nixon on his trail. Ronald stood alone as he turned and looked at his woman from afar. Maybe this game of hiding has gone on for too long. Of course Ronald wasn’t one for PDA. But he would enjoy even speaking to her. Maybe even sit in the same foxhole as her from time to time. Maybe it was time..

///

   Y/N hid with her back pressed tightly against a building. She worked carefully to wrap a soldier's wounds. He was shot, nothing bad though. The bullet went straight through the lone Sergeant’s leg, missing any main arteries. Tying off some dressings she stood. Her head turned to the forest line. Seeing Ronald have a sharp eye on her as he watched. She shot him a soft smile and turned to run out through the mortar shells and bullets. It was scary. No doubt about it. But she was prepared for it. She couldn’t let fear rest within her and take over. Y/N had a job to do. And the fear of losing her lover or losing her life couldn’t be her top priority. But it still was.

   Ronald watched as stress surged within his body and mind. The German military were circling in on his men. And Lieutenant Dyke was sitting there and doing nothing! He was livid. But when he saw his wife sitting out there, trying to keep her head low while she worked on a soldier that had his arm blown off from a mortar shell. And it was when the tip of Y/N’s helmet was hit with a bullet and it flew off her head. Landing in the snow somewhere about six feet away from her. But she kept working on the soldier. Not even blinking twice. Ronald’s teeth grinded down onto each other. His chest heaved as his eyes never left his woman. Gripping his weapon and his dirt coated nails dug into the wood of it. And once he heard those orders from Winters to take over, he definitely took over that position. Sprinting through Foy to link up with I company. 

   Y/N watched in shock and in horror as she watched her husband. It was brave, but also do idiotic. Standing up and looking at him as the Germans sat there in shock. “Ronald!” she screamed. Her eyes coated with shock and fear as the cold wind whipped the stray strands of hair in front of her face. Her shocked stance quickly ended as she felt a bullet whiz past her face. Slicing her cheek. Dropping to the ground behind the little cover. She poked her head out by the corner as she watched Ronald dive over the small wall. A small sigh of relief. Biting her bottom lip as she waited for a small moment to run to another wounded soldier. Grabbing onto the fabric of his trooper shirt and dragging the man to cover. Beginning to work on his injuries.

   Peeking over the cover to do a quick scan for more wounded, she caught a glimpse of her Ronald climbing back over the wall. Her eyes widened as she stood up.  Now the Krauts began to fire back. But they missed every shot. She watched as Ronakd took cover and began to fire at the Germans. She shook her head and laughed in shock. Focusing back on her task at hand, she would just yell at him later. Jogging her way to another wounded man. It was war after all. Sometimes you needed stupid decisions that would just quite work. And sacrifices did help. But Y/N never really did pray, but in her head she prayed. She prayed to her lord that she was thankful that Ronald hadn’t made the ultimate sacrifice that day to save them.

///

   After I company linked up with Easy Company, taking over the German’s was a piece of cake. I mean after the attack of the sniper. But Y/N was busy helping the other medics with the wounded. Getting men up on Jeeps to be sent to the nearest hospital. And she helped pick up some of the dead to be identified and brought back to town to be sent home. Wiping the sweat off her head as she placed her hands on her hips. Taking some water from her canteen to clean off some of the blood that rested and dried on them. Wiping her wet hands off on her trousers as they began to get cold from the frigid air all around them. Her eyes darted to the side as she saw Ronald walking past her and towards the rest of the Easy Company boys. Placing her helmet onto her head as she turned and gritted her teeth. She was blinded by worry and fear after watching him run through Foy. It turned into anger. Y/N was a patient woman, don’t get me wrong. But when it came to her husband, it was an entire different situation. Especially when he did something as stupid as he did. And boy did Ronald already see it coming.

  Y/N turned and began to march over to him. Clenching her firsts as she walked past the groups of men. Liebgott nudged Buck and pointed at the woman. The look of anger yet her eyes laced with worry got their attention. But seeing her march towards Spiers, that is what scared them the most. No one even dared to stare that man in the eyes of that man. Yet there she went, the look of fury within her. They watched for the show as they went to reach out to stop her, but they couldn’t think of which one they feared more. An angry female medic, or a murder crazed paratrooper officer. They just wanted to wait and see.

   “Ronald Speirs!” she yelled. The officer turned around with questioning eyes. But they softened slightly as he saw her. But when he saw the anger on her features, he narrowed his eyes at her. Y/N took her helmet off her head and shoved it into his chest. “Are you an absolute idiot?!” Y/N yelled. Leaving the rest of the men within Easy to have their eyes bulge out of their heads. Ronald was just as shocked in all honesty. Not only was he not used to the other men talking to him like that. Coming from his wife, it was a shock.  “You could’ve gotten yourself killed! And what would I do? I would be stuck in this war alone!” she yelled into his face. Pressing her pointer finger into his chest. Now the men were confused. What was she going on about?

   “Come on, Y/N. I had to do it,” he tried to say to defend himself. His voice wasn’t as harsh as normal. He looked down at the woman and reached to place a fond hand on her shoulder.

   “Don’t even try to touch me right now, Ronald! I’m so mad at you right now! You had me scared half to death on that field. I didn't even pray and I sat on the field while patching up a trooper, muttering prayers. What would I have done if you got shot? I would half to patch you up and do you understand how terrifying that is for me?! We are fucking married you asshole! And it seems like you don’t care sometimes! Even if it is a good hunk of cash, I don’t want that ten thousand dollars if you die!” she yelled. The men of Easy had their mouths hanging open as Ronald was finally left speechless for once in his military career. Staring down at her woman as her chest heaved up and down. But when she realized what she had actually said, the blush from the cold on her face changed to the blush of feeling embarrassed. She just spat out their secret. “I.. I’m sorry,” she said. But in a few moments, Ronald snagged her waist and yanked her forward. Planting his lips onto hers. Y/N raised her hands in shock as her eyes opened wide. 

   Ronald pulled away as he smiled softly at how shocked Y/N was. Liebgott and Toye looked at each other while Perconte and Luz sat there in shock. Small smiles coming to their faces as the company bursts out into cheer. Winters and Nixon standing in front of all of them chuckling. 

  The group approached Y/N as she kept her face to the side to hide the blush. “So when the hell were you going to tell us this? How long have you all been together? Married even!”  Gaurnere said with a smile yet shocked looked in his eyes. Y/N held her left hand up to show the silver band on her ring finger. He didn’t show it, but Ronald had the same band on his right hand. He had stolen them when scuffling through some town. They fit perfectly onto their fingers and it was just them with each other.

   “Three years. We started dating in the middle of Toccoa. Got married about a year ago,” she said softly. Dropping her hand to the side of her as she scratched the back of the neck with the other. A small, yet shy smile on her lips. “So I guess the cat is out of the bag,” she said softly, a chuckle following out soon after. Chewing on her bottom lip as Ronald draped an arm across her shoulders and stared down at all the boys.

   “Yeah. That means if I see any of you soldiers flirting with my wife, I’ll have your heads. Now scram. You guys have jobs to do,” he told them. The men piped up with a “Yes, sir” then ran off. Laughing and joking in shock. Y/N smiled at Ronald and pulled away softly. 

   “As much as I would love and be your wife, we would have to wait till later on. I have duties along as you do too,” she said softly. Standing on the toes of her boots to press a soft kiss on his cheek with her chapped lips. Ronald smiled softly and nodded. Handing her helmet back to her. “I will see you later on, Captain,” she said with a soft smile. Turning around and walking off towards Roe. Placing her helmet back onto her head as she walked. Y/N always walked with pride. Her head held high. Even if she never noticed it, Ronald always noticed it. And it always made him fall even harder for her.

   Nixon approached his fellow officer. Patting his shoulder softly. Captain Speirs turned around to look at the man. “So Mr.Speirs, it seems you are soft for your wife after all. I mean, letting her talk to you like that and all,” he teased. The officer just grunted and shoved his hand off of his shoulder. Furrowing his eyebrows as he could feel his blush crawl up onto his cheeks. 

  “Aw shut it, would you, Nixon? Why don’t you search for alcohol somewhere, you drunk,” he huffed. Only to have Nicon stifle a laugh in return. Nixon looked at Ronald’s back and turned. Going to walk towards their new main headquarters within the town of Foy.

  “Whatever you say, Speirs,” he said walking into the distance. Waving him off as he walked. Ronald just grunted again and ignored the man. But his eyes went to look back at the female in the distance. She was already carrying crates between helping Paratroopers that came to her with problems. He smiled softly as he looked down at his ring. Then back up at his woman. She was having Roe place a bandage on the slice she had on her cheek. He didn’t feel jealous. He didn't feel anything negative. He found himself smiling at his wife. The woman he loved oh so dearly. He was never happier and he never regretted this decision. Not once, and he never will. And in that moment he promised himself. When this shithole of a war was over, he would give her the wedding she deserved for all her hard work. The biggest and best house man could create to keep her warm and safe. And all the kids she would ever want. He found his person. And Y/N was an angel walking on this Earth to him. Ronald would never let her go. He was going to keep her safe. She changed his way of thinking deep down. Ronald would worship the ground his little medic walked on. And it was only for her. No one else. No more, no less. 

   He was hers. And Y/N knew that. No doubt about it. Anyone who has seen her smile has known perfection. She instills grace in every common thing and divinity in every careless gesture. And Ronald knew he was graced to be the cause of that smile, that he would get to see her smile every day. It meant more to him than anything. He would live for her. He would die for her. He was in love with her. He breathed her essence. And that’s all he wanted for the rest of his life. And as did Y/N. They were made for each other. Their hearts beat the same. Their mind’s were opposite, but that’s what conjoined them. 

   Y/N and Ronald Speirs were the definition of soulmates. Their lives would be spent together. Never apart. They were the flames that kept each other going and moving. They would be together to the end. No doubt about it.

[hawkieloki23]

The Widow is Back

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, female black reader, Sharon Carter, John Walker, Scott Lang (BIG cameo) etc... Potential ships: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes, Scott Lang x reader Plot: After the events of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Bucky and Sam are in need of some help after the flag-smashers are finished. Even though, Sam has now taken the mantle of something big, HYDRA is now bigger (thanks to US Agent and some other ones) and will not stop at anything. So, in an unexpected visit by the reader, they tell them about the scenario in hand and they team up. Warnings: Strong language, spoilers for TFATWS (all episodes - season one), racial abuse, angst. Author’s note: Do not read this unless you have seen all of the episodes of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. To be honest, I did cry, at least, twice in that final episode. I am very sensitive to this kind of stuff, so bare-with.

Chapter One

Delacroix, Louisiana.

The sea was infinite blue in infinite weather patterns. Fishing was Sam’s meditation. By sundown, or whenever he’d caught my fill, he had time to decompress, to come up for air, and fit for family life. Lungs of fresh air and the sounds of nature, all set in as much space as any heart could ever ask for - those were the Wilson's’ fishing days. The lighthouse stood as a great guardian of land and a friend to those navigating sea waves. The seagulls came with a flash of silver, the sparkle of my childhood dreams. How Sam loved those birds that swooped and created the melody of the shore along with the lace-topped waves.

Sam and his sister Sarah, as well as Bucky Barnes, was finishing the family boat with some help from the helping community.

Just then, they heard the sound of heels tapping against the wooden deck. Bucky looked behind him to see a young woman, just standing there. “Are you… Bucky?” She asked, crossing her arms and tossing her y/h/c ponytail behind her back. “Yes. And you are?” “The name’s Y/n. I am--.”

Just then, Sam suddenly came out of the engine room, wiping his hands from the grease.

“Y/n?” “Wait, how do you know her?” Bucky asked Sam. “She’s our other sister.” Sarah interjected.

“Adopted other sister.” She grumbled. “ Anyways, someone sent me to help you guys.” “And what can you bring to the table?” Bucky asked her.

Y/n raised her eyebrows.

“I can show you my taekwondo... if you want.” She said seriously. “Or... I can say that I share a hatred for John Walker.”

Both Sam and Bucky looked at each other. “How do you know about John Walker?” Sam doubted.

This was the first time he had seen his adopted sister since the Blip happened. A lot has happened during those 5 years.

Y/n sighed. “You’re not the only ones who saw that footage. I have a feeling that he has changed since then.” “What do you mean?” Bucky mumbled as Sam came to sit next to him. “I’m not completely sure about this… but I think he’s joined HYDRA. I was at the courtroom, undercover as a HYDRA agent. And Valentina AKA Madame HYDRA was there --” “Wait… Valentina Allegra is Madame HYDRA?” Sam stood up. “Yes. Valentina. And she was with Walker and his missus.” Y/n explained. She adjusted her leather jacket as she continued, “Anyways, he made a deal with her to change the world as we know it. And we need Cap for this. To take down HYDRA once and for all.”

Sam looked over at Bucky. “I was gonna ask why you know Valentina was Madame HYDRA, but I regret now asking that.” He mumbled to him. Bucky shook his head and he crossed his arms, his vibranium arm shining brightly in the sun.

“If you need Cap, then you need his partner too.” Bucky suddenly said, putting his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam was shocked at when he said ‘partner’, knowing he said that to him. He smiled softly as he looked at Bucky once more.

Y/n looked at Sarah and whispered, “Are they together?” Sarah just chuckled softly and replied, “They should be.”

Y/n started laughing out loud with Sarah and the ‘partners’ stared at them.

“What’s so funny?” Bucky condemned. “Nothing, Sergeant Barnes.” Sarah teased back.

Bucky sighed. “Who sent you anyways?” He asked Y/n with quite a deep voice. “None of your concern. But you need to come with me. She is awaiting your arrival, Captain America.”

Bucky and Sam was following Y/n through a deep dark tunnel. The tunnel was abandoned because we have renewable energies now, we can be kinder to our Earth. All that's down there is coldness and dank stale air. To be honest, an afternoon in the meadows would be  far more fun than this.Y/n did a special knock on the locked door. The sound of the knocking was the sound of a heartbeat, and so the door opened by itself.

“Hey. He is here. THE Captain America.” She called out to the darkness of the room. In that dark room there were shapes in monochrome, of course the daylight could bring brilliant fuchsia or deepest scarlet, but for now it could be a scene from a black and white movie.

“Thank you Y/s/n… wait, is it Steve? Or… Walker?” The voice from the darkness replied.

“How do they know about Steve?” Bucky whispered to Sam, to which his partner shrugged a response. Bucky had a gun in the back pocket of his jeans, just in case something goes wrong. He put his left arm on it for self-defence.

“Umm… It’s neither of them.” Y/n gulped, walking slowly and ever so closely to the unknown stranger. “What do you mean it’s neither of them?!” The stranger screeched at the group, to which Sam and Bucky covered their ears to the horrible sound, Y/n just jerked at the noise, flinching slightly. She had heard that screeching more than once. “You-you know Steve’s dead, right? And Walker is not Cap anymore?” Y/n mumbled. “Then who is it? I can’t see them anywhere.”

Y/n then cleared her throat and pointed towards Sam. “This is Captain America. Didn’t you read the news?” “A black man… is Captain America?” The stranger cursed at them, a bit of spit landed on Y/n, who then rubbed her cheek to get rid of it. The stranger then laughed at them hardly.

Bucky and Sam looked at each other, annoyed at what the stranger just said. At least they know that there are still people discriminating against black people in this society. ‘Are they serious?’ Sam thought to himself.

“Yes…” Y/n replied, quite serious and annoyed that her ‘leader’ just said that. “But that doesn’t mean anything. At least Walker is not Cap anymore.” The stranger came out of the shadows and Bucky quickly realised who is was.

“Yelena?”

[artsy-hobbitses]

Because my nostalgic ass had been wanting to do this for a SUPER long time, have some Humanized!Mighty Ducks! It’s funny to see how far I’ve kinda come, because I had a strong love for this and most other anthro shows back in the 90s bc they looks excellent but also because I couldn’t draw humans worth a god damn and ended up anthro-ing all the humans, but now I can human the anthros :’B Also because I have no self-control, actual human names and backgrounds below. I might actually have to write this AU at some point. 

WILLIAM ‘WILL’ FLETCHER ie. ‘WILDWING’

30yrs

Canadian (Eh)

Half-brother to Nate Fletcher (Same father, different mothers). Despite this, they have a generally good relationship with each other.

It doesn’t mean they don’t have their issues however; Will believes his father chose Nate as the man stayed with Nate and Nate’s mother, while Nate believes Will is the favorite because they never hear their dad stop comparing their accomplishments as a troubled teen to straightlaced Will.

A decorated ice hockey player in his youth, won several state championships.

Formerly a member of the Canadian Armed Forces, did a security stint in Afghanistan from 2009-2014.

Returned to Canada, opened a youth hockey camp to leave behind his old life before the Saurian threat at which point he was called up by his absentee military father to help spearhead a team of saboteurs.

Initially reluctant, however the death of his best friend and former army comrade, Connor Tiberius, during a rescue of captured citizens spurns him to accept on his terms in which he picks the team members.

Responsible, dependable, good-natured, more bookish than his size and stature might suggest, some self-esteem issues and very much a wary but bleeding heart. In his baby brother’s affectionate words, a “Major Dweeb”.

Trilingual; Canadian-French, English (fluent), Pashto (intermediate).

His codename ‘Wildwing’ came from Connor, who affectionately gave it to him as he was the best ‘wingman’ a soldier could ask for on the field and his habit of going from bookish to ballistic when faced with any injustice. His civilian outfit includes a bomber jacket with wings decorated over the back to commemorate his best friend.

Literally the only member of the team to actually be associated with ice hockey. The others picked it up gradually as a way to bond with each other and discuss battle tactics.

NATHAN ‘NATE’ FLETCHER ie. ‘NOSEDIVE’

20yrs

American

Half-brother to Will Fletcher, unofficially the ‘team baby’ which is something he tries hard to break out of.

Seen as a delinquent in his youth and battling with ADHD, his father strongarmed him to enlist with the Air Force when he was 17 to try and ‘shape him up’ and while he absolutely bucked under the chains of command, he proved to be a natural at flying which both amazed and frustrated his officers when he would ace their flying exams but often break out to fly the planes when he wasn’t suppose to.

Due to perceived attitude problems, he was dismissed much to the anger of his father, but was quickly roped into the same role by Will who saw his potential in combating Dragaunus’ forces.

Hotheaded, impulsive and immature but also loyal, gregarious and friendly to a fault.

Will not stand for anyone badmouthing Will. That’s his brother and only he’s allowed to joke about them.

Codename ‘Nosedive’ was chosen because of the stunts he used to pull in the plane and also as a take-that moment to his father who would often complain about how everything good they tried to do for ‘this kid’ would ‘nosedive into shit’.

Oscillates between loving Will as the only family member to have really given a damn about him and see any potential in him at all and resenting Will for in his eyes, being everything he felt he couldn’t be.

Often in charge of flying the team jet.

Bilingual; English (fluent), Canadian-French (beginner. For Will, he’s trying).

MALLORY MACKENZIE

27yrs

Irish-American

A former cop who idolized her Sergeant mother who was killed helping to defend NYC from Dragaunus’ marauding forces.

She knows Will as a good friend through Connor Tiberius who was an old boyfriend prior to his death.

Has been tracking Duke’s movements for some time prior to the invasion, dead-set on bringing the jewel thief to justice. Not particularly enthused about his way of life, but does care for him in her own way as it was during their little chases that she would have conversations she couldn’t have had otherwise with someone she believed would have no role to play in her life outside of prison time.

When he consoled her after the death of her mother and she had to tend to him after he was gravely injured during a rescue, a strained friendship grew as they defended NYC together for a while with her banding together the remaining cops of the Central Park precinct and him putting together a coalition of small-time criminals who turned their tricks to beat off the alien invasion until Will called her up as a member of his new saboteur team.

In a spur of the moment, she asked Duke to come with her, vouching for his set of skills to Will and despite their back-and-forth snarking (mostly snarking from her, mostly teasing from him), they work with each other the best out of the team.

Her hatred for Draganus is strongest out of all the team and of all of them, she’s the most adept at hand-to-hand combat.

Has no use for code names—-the people she loves are dead or on the same team as her so she sees no point to it.

Pugnacious, Black-And-white view of the world and judgmental but also confident, decisive and fiercely determined. If she has her mind set something, she’s Terminator levels of terrifying to see it through.

Speaks only English but understands Arabic and French to an intermediate degree even if she can’t trust her tongue to speak it, if only to understand what Duke is saying at times (as he unwittingly tends to jump between his three ‘fluent’ languages in conversation).

DULQUER LATEEF ie. ‘DUKE L’ORANGE’

35yrs

French-Algerian

A renown jewel thief (simply known as the ‘Duke’) with a knack for stealing blood diamonds from diamond barons to channel their proceeds back to the communities they were pilfered from. Actually thinks the diamond industry is a huge joke, but it’s a joke some morons pay insanely dangerous amounts of money for. Prefers other jewels on a personal basis (fond of rubies and amethysts)

Ran his own gang back in France called the Brotherhood of the Blade, got caught up in the invasion when he decided to work his heists in New York.

His codename came from the inability of people to properly pronounce his name in his youth and so ‘Dulq’ became ‘Duke’ in due time. ‘L’Orange’ was what happened when having to come up with a surname on the spot during a heist in the States, he blurted out the first vaguely-French word he could remember which was ‘L’Orange’ ie. ‘duck a l’orange’ which was what a former target of his ordered and when his gang brethren found out, it amused them so much they talked him into keeping it as a full part of his nom de plume. He keeps it, because it helps his remaining family stay safe that no one knows his real name and he prefers it that way.

He and Mallory had something he likes to describe as a ‘dance’, with her continuously tracking him down and him escaping her clutches at the last moment. He’s absolutely tickled that they’re now on the same team.

Cares for the team the deepest due to having run his own back home and missing the brotherhood and his own family, always aware of everyone’s emotional and physical condition to the point he disregards his own at times.

Seriously, hurt his new family and you die.

The most streetwise of the team and adept with any form of blade-play and stealth/subterfuge.

Lost his eye and gained the scar on his face fending off ‘Wraith’ for as long as he could from a geologist with knowledge of Beryllium crystals.

The cybernetic eye he hides behind his eyepatch was given to him by Mallory who came across it while evacuating scientists (Including Tanya) from a lab under siege. She obtained it as willing ‘payment’ from them and had them help install it on Duke, claiming that he was only as much use to the rebellion as the clarity of his depth of field. (In truth, was well aware of how shaken he was from the loss of his eye). Cybernetic eye has x-ray and heat-seeking capabilities.

Fond of Mallory (who he may or may not be harboring feelings for but is also aware that he’s greying, a criminal and damaged, like who’s he kidding), Tanya (something of a younger sister to him especially since she’s the scientist who helped install his new eye) and Will (who he treats like a little brother he gotta teach the workings of the streets to).

Egoistical, questionable morals and unconcerned with ‘the big picture’ of global invasion but also surprisingly compassionate, open-minded and does his best to see the good in everyone (He’s a thief eh?)

Something of an omniglot due to his background and the different people he ends up having to work with; Fluent in French, English and Arabic, intermediate in Mandarin, Spanish and Italian, beginner in Japanese and Russian.

TANYA VANDERBILT

30yrs

German

A scientist working mostly with cyberkinetics who also made use of Beryllium crystals (the same the Saurians are coveting) in her technology and upon the invasion, her entire lab and research became a target.

She was rescued by Mallory and has since then tagged along with the fiery redhead who sees her as a sister, augmenting her gear and weapons where needed and even providing Duke with his energy sword.

Absolutely not a combatant, has no field experience and is most often found back at the base playing her role as Command central or guarding the ship while the group go on their recon missions.

Sees herself as deadweight sometimes though her comrades will always attest that they’d probably be dead out there if not for her tech and in-depth knowledge.

Meek, easily terrified and a bit of a pushover, but also innovative, multi-talented in diverse sections of science and always eager to help.

Speaks English and German, understands intermediate Japanese due to most of her lab co-workers.

CASSIUS ‘CASH’ HARDING ie. ‘GRIN’

40yrs

African-American

Originally a pro-wrestler working the circuits, he was caught up in the Saurian invasion and captured as a test subject in order for the invaders to figure out the biological weaknesses and breaking point of humans at their prime.

Was the subject of multiple experiments, but strove to keep up the spirits of his fellow prisoners by way of story, meditation and keeping a genial facade.

Was among the prisoners Conrad attempted to free before they died, led the prisoner rebellion and immediately joined up as a member of Will’s team upon finding out that he was Conrad’s best friend—-paying off his dues, as it were.

Unfortunately for the Saurians, their experiments had been in the midst of testing out how much augmented strength a human body could take before breaking, which left him with well, augmented strength to go with an extremely high pain threshold from both his old job and his ordeal. That said, the strength comes with a caveat that prolonged use of it could lead to organ failure due to the strain he has to put on them and thus he’s only able to work with it for short bursts of five to ten minutes depending on the task.

Despite his size, is generally the pacifist of the group more concerned with keeping people safe than facing down Dragaunus’ hordes—he leaves that to the actual soldiers. If you pissed him off in some way, you have fucked up super bad.

Bonds with Will and Nate quickly, rather like a stable older brother or uncle figure who realizes these two worlds-apart siblings have issues and are way over their head with these new responsibilities and tries his best to keep them grounded.

Hesitant, tendency to shy away from confrontation and almost on an emotional lockdown but also amicable, stoic and uncannily perceptive.

Speaks mostly English with a strong smattering/understanding of Jamaican Creole.

The codename ‘Grin’ came from his tendency to ‘grin and bear it’ when it came to punishment or altercations.

[lostanarchymagazine]

Hanna-Barbera Beyond is a comic book initiative started in 2016 by DC Comics that consists in a line of comic books based on various characters from the animation studio Hanna-Barbera.

Wacky Raceland is a comic book series that re-imagines the cast of Wacky Races competing in a desert wasteland, reminiscent of the Mad Max film series, filled with all kinds of obstacles, towards one single goal, Utopia, mankind's last safe haven. It is also one of four comic books introduced by DC Comics in 2016 as part of the comic book initiative Hanna-Barbera Beyond, among with Scooby Apocalypse, Future Quest and The Flintstones.

The world has ended, but the race has just begun! Penelope Pitstop, Peter Perfect and the rest of the Wacky Racers vie for the finish line in a contest where the winner takes all and second place is death. Today’s trial: the shattered maze of freeways known as the Überpass, where they’re beset by giant sand beasts, mutated insects, and worst of all, Dick Dastardly’s murderously poor sportsmanship. The last thing they need after surviving the race is a brutal bar fight in a local dive, but that’s just what they get!!

Characters

Dick Dastardly and Muttley – Drivers of the Mean Machine, Dick Dastardly and Muttley are known by the other racers for being the biggest cheaters there are, not to mention the biggest bastards there are. Before the apocalypse, Dastardly was a world-renowned pianist called Richard D'Astardlien, who lost his wife and son due to his cowardice during a nanite attack. As for Muttley, he is a mutated and robotically-enhanced dog whose intelligence and aggressiveness were slightly enhanced thanks to his exposure to the "SC-00-B2" serum, created in the Butcher Shop as one of the many projects overseen by Professor Pat Pending.

Penelope Pitstop – Driver of the Compact Pussycat, Penelope Pitstop is a tough, no-nonsense young girl who takes no orders from anyone and sees herself as a strong and independent woman in a world where the strongest prevail. She has a close bond with her car, stating that they are full-time partners in the race, looking out for one another. Before the apocalypse, Penelope lived in the Greek island of Aegina, with her mother and her sister, who were killed by a tsunami that destroyed the island.

Peter Perfect – Driver of the Turbo Terrific, Peter Perfect is seen by the other racers as Earth's last Boy Scout, mostly because of the way he acts, upholding the rules of chivalry. Unlike most of his fellow racers, Peter believes that even though the world has ended, it does not mean one should act and behave like a savage. A natural driver, he is also a bit of a scaredy-cat, trying to make a good impression in front of Penelope, whom he has a soft spot for.

Professor Patrick "Pat" Pending – Driver of the Convert-a-Car, Professor Pat Pending is an erudite and slightly insane scientist who, in the past, was head of the projects and scientific experiments conducted in a private research facility called "the Butcher Shop". Among those experiments were some of the individuals that would later join the Wacky Race, as well as creations that caused the end of the world. With an insane yet brilliant mind at his disposal, he makes his job keeping the racers alive; for secretly, he needs them to accomplish a goal that he set for himself a long time ago. It is revealed that he subliminally programmed the Announcer to create the Race (and the racers) so that he would have an army to destroy her.

The Ant Hill Mob – Drivers of the Bulletproof Bomb, the Ant Hill Mob are a group of gangster-like albino midgets with a hive-mind mentality composed of seven members, named I to VII, having V (pronounced Vee) as their leader. Although sharing a hive-mind, the seven members of the Ant Hill Mob can think and act for themselves separately. They were part of an experiment conducted by Professor Pat Pending in the Butcher Shop, which manufactured them in a cloning facility in order to be used as cheap manpower for the military.

Lazy Luke and Blubber Bear – Drivers of the Arkansas Chug-a-bug, Lazy Luke and Blubber Bear are a duo of hunters who lived up north. Having been friends ever since they were kids, they have always looked out for each other. Luke is an alcoholic who drinks in order to forget the horrors he sees (he carries around a map with the locations of all the bars in the Wasteland), while Blubber is half-human, half-bear as a result of the Announcer's surgery to piece him back together after a grizzly bear attacked the two friends, nearly killing him.

The Red Baron – Driver of the Crimson Haybailer, Red is a narcissistic, homophobic sociopath with Nazi tendencies, always referring to his motherland and how Adolf Hitler was right about eradicating certain kinds of people off the face of the planet, while stating that he himself is the living proof of Germany's Master Race. Before he joined the Race, Red was a professional gambler, having ripped off some of the most powerful men and women in Las Vegas. He was also in love with the daughter of Las Vegas' most powerful man, the Colonel, who accidentally killed his daughter when she placed herself in front of a bullet meant for Red. He has a particular hatred for Sergeant Blast.

Rufus Ruffcut and Sawtooth – Drivers of the Buzz Wagon, Rufus is a gay lumberjack who believes in the old saying that "bigger is better". As for Sawtooth, he is a small androgynous street urchin who fancies all kinds of knives, whom Rufus adopted as his protégé.

Sergeant Blast and Private Meekly – Drivers of the Army Surplus Special, Sergeant Blast and Private Meekly are an unstoppable duo, familiarized with all sorts of military tactics and an amazing arsenal at their disposal. Sergeant Blast is a transgender woman and spends her time reminding the others that although she is transgender, that makes her no less worthy than anyone else. As for Private Meekly, he is a weapon enthusiast, who sticks around Sergeant Blast not because he fears her, but because he respects her.

The Gruesome Twosome – Drivers of the Creepy Coupe, the Gruesome Twosome are a duo of freaks who resemble monsters, with Little Gruesome resembling a green-skinned vampire and Big Gruesome resembling a Frankenstein monster-type gladiator. Not much is known about them, except for the fact that Little Gruesome is able to control a swarm of bats that do his bidding, while Big Gruesome has incredible strength.

The Slag Brothers – Drivers of the Boulder Mobile, the Slag Brothers are a couple of Neanderthals who were brought back to life through the experiments conducted by Professor Pat Pending in the Butcher Shop before escaping it. Although they were frozen in ice for thousands of years, both Rock and Gravel Slag are able to understand English and speak it through the use of caveman expressions, thanks to a series of brain surgeries conducted by Pat Pending. Having lived off the land in the past, the two men are incredible scavengers and hunters.

The Announcer – The mysterious host of the Wacky Race. The Announcer turns out to be Professor Pat Pending's wife, Angelique Pending, who lost her body in an accident during the Slag Brothers' rampage through the Butcher Shop. In order to save her, Pat Pending removed her brain and placed it in a special container, which allowed her to live. Unfortunately, the lack of a physical body resulted in her going insane, unleashing an apocalyptic event on Earth which turned it into a wasteland.

[faveficarchive]

All the Colors of the World: Part 4

Les Amours Perdues

By Vivian Darkbloom

Pairing: Mel/Janice, Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: After meeting once again post-Macedonia, Mel and Janice come to terms with their feelings for one another, while also coming to terms with who they are individually.

For the rest of her life, Gabrielle would replay the image in her mind: she, atop a horse, holding aloft a sword. Was that really me, the "we must stop the cycle of violence and hatred" pacifist bard? Leading a battle? A warrior Queen? Then, the answer: It was. For some wild moment I was there, I felt the blood singing in my body...that rush. For that second I knew what Xena felt in battle. Dare I admit it? It was...glorious.

But the glory ended. Quickly.

A nerve-shattering clang brought the sword out of her hand, and almost threw her off the horse. Petrus's mount danced around Argo; Xena's mare, however, was leading, and she kept Gabrielle out of the warlord's reach. A rising roar filled the bard's ears: the armies were converging on them and the ground thundered. She was in the eye of the storm. But then she was falling, caught in the fatal throes of gravity, with time shifting wildly. The decent was slow, then fast. She heard—and felt—a sickening crunch in her wrist as she hit the dirt. Before she could stand up, she felt a sharp, agonizing pain in her thigh. The bastard. He had thrown a dagger into her; the hilt protruded from her leg.

He dismounted and walked to her, sword in hand. She looked once again into the dead eyes. How can anyone have eyes with no color? She did not want this to be the last thing she ever saw, but so be it; to counter it, she shut her own vivid eyes and thought of the vivid blue ones so dear to her..

As it turned out, it wasn't the last thing she saw. She heard the familiar whoosh of the chakram riding on the wind, and a gurgle. Opening her eyes, she saw the chakram embedded in Petrus's chest. The warlord dropped to his knees in front of her. His features began to ease into relief as he welcomed death, but then contorted in pain as he coughed up a bit of blood. "As I said, little Queen, you have good taste," he whispered. He fell back on the field, dead.

A wave of exhaustion and relief hit Gabrielle, as the tension and buildup of the past few days snapped within her. She felt herself being scooped into strong, familiar arms, and her eyes caressed Xena's concerned face.

"I'm taking you back to the village," the warrior said.

The bard nodded. So much for the battle rush. Who needs to fight this fucking war anyway? Not me. "Xena?" she began.

"Yes?"

"You have the most wonderful timing."

*****

Colonel Anton Frobisher had not seen Mel since the young woman had spent a year studying at Cambridge ten years ago. He had witnessed her in every stage of her life: as a sweet-natured infant, a curious toddler, a precocious child, a lanky teenager, a soft-spoken young woman. While he was eager to see this latest "version" of his oldest friend's progeny, she remained fixed in his elderly mind as a little girl, an intelligent eight year-old, who—when she didn't have her nose in a book—was chasing around Patches, a very old cat that lived on his estate in Cornwall. Wielding a long stick that she called a sword, the girl swore that the ancient calico was her arch enemy seeking revenge against her. She was...an odd child at times. One day the old cat triumphed and caught Melinda with a rather nasty scratch on the arm.

* * *

June, 1924

Nicholas Pappas carefully dabbed peroxide on the cut. The girl's eyes brimmed with tears, and her lower lip trembled, but she stared stoically past her father into space.

"You're being very brave, Melinda," he said soothingly. "Almost done." Quickly he wrapped some gauze around her arm and tied it neatly. Out of sheer relief a tear escaped her eye, and he soaked it into his dry, callused thumb. "There we go," he said, with a kiss to her forehead. "Come, let's join Uncle Anton for tea."

They headed for porch, where Anton waited in a wicker chair. At the table before him, high tea awaited them all. He ruffled Melinda's hair as she walked by. "I daresay, Melinda, Patches—"

"Catlisto," corrected the girl solemnly.

"Er, yes—Catlisto—may have won the battle, but you won the war. She flew out of the house like a storm."

"No, Uncle Anton, I shall never be rid of Catlisto," Melinda intoned dramatically. "She is an immortal."

Anton shot a glance at Nick, who convulsed in silent laughter over his tea. Good God, Nick, what do you let this child read? "An...immortal, you say?"

"Yes, a cat is the form she now takes. Centuries ago she angered the gods, and Zeus turned her into a common house pet." With that, Melinda shoved a scone into her face, in only the way a hungry child can.

"Well," Anton mused, looking out into the yard, "now that I think about it, that old beast has been around here ever since I can remember..."

* * *

He was impressed as she stood in his doorway; Melinda continued to grow more stunning with age. She incorporated her father's looks—the height, the broad shoulders, the black hair and blue eyes—into an irresistible package. He felt a strange attraction toward her—strange, because it was based solely upon her resemblance to the dead man who was her father. Ah, Nick, even though I never told you, you knew how I felt. And you remained my friend anyway. Bless you. "Melinda, I'm so delighted to see you again. You look lovely," he said to the woman, at last. He rose from behind his desk and walked to her. She bent a little to receive the kiss that the shorter man placed on her cheek.

Her smile was shy, yet warm. "Hello, Uncle Anton." She paused. "Or should I call you Colonel?"

"Call me that only when we work, my dear. Do sit down." Mel sat in a leather armchair across from his desk.

"Well, I've got you all set up in a flat, dear, not far from here. Fact is, we've taken over a whole block of flats, it seems. Nothing spectacular, you know, probably nothing you're used to, living in that grand house by yourself."

"I'm sure it will be fine, Uncle Anton." Is he implying I'm...spoiled? The house I live in would barely be big enough to be a shed on his estate, she thought.

"Good. I'll have McKay take your bags over in a bit. Now, I do recall you know quite a number of languages, aside from that ancient nonsense you know."

She chuckled. "Yes, I do."

"Well?" His demand was a bit imperious, as his career-soldier-dom seeped through.

"Oh! Let's see, I know Spanish, Italian, German, Russian, Polish, Romanian..."

He clasped his hands in delight. "Excellent! We have quite a large number of Polish military in London right now, you know. About 30,000 men. So we need all the help we can get in translating services. I've quite a number of documents that need work. But that can wait until tomorrow. Tonight, I think you should have dinner at my home. We'll catch up a bit."

"Sounds wonderful."

He stood up and she followed. "Let me walk you out." He stepped outside the office and instructed Sergeant McKay, his assistant, to bring around a car to take Mel and her luggage to her new flat on Mecklenburgh Street.

As they descended the steps to the ground floor, his curiosity overtook him. "Melinda, why is it you are here, in London?" he asked gently. The urgent letter she sent gave no reason for her sudden interest in being so much closer to the war.

"Ah, well, I did want to contribute to the war effort..." she stammered, sliding her glasses up along her nose with a shaky finger. He smiled, charmed at her nervousness.

"But you could have done that just as well in your own country," he retorted.

"Yes, you're right," she conceded. A pause. "I came to find a friend...who's stationed here."

I knew it, he thought smugly. The old girl is in love. "An American, I assume?" She nodded. "What branch is he in?"

A faint blush colored her cheeks. "Er, my friend is in the Women's Army Corps, Uncle Anton."

"A woman?" Frobisher mused.

Mel raised an eyebrow, gently amused. "Yes, unless they changed the admission policy or something."

Oh my. He couldn't keep a grin off his face, which made her blush deepen. So Nick, that's why I caught you poring over Kraft-Ebing one day, when your daughter was a teenager. And I thought it was in reference to me. He noted with empathy the anguish and worry now on her face;. obviously, she was very taken with whomever this person was. He smiled inwardly: And I may be in a position to help. But for the moment he resolved to try and cheer her up: "So she's one of those...what do you call them, wackeys, eh what?" He waggled his thick, gray eyebrows.

He was rewarded with a giggle. "A WAC, you mean."

"And you don't know where her assignment is?"

"No," Mel answered, her expression turning morose once again. "An Army friend said she had been stationed here, in London. But I don't know where, exactly."

He opened the door and they were outside, against the darkened sky. Mel's ebony hair blended into the night, yet her eyes glimmered like beacons, even in the foggy, blacked-out haze of London.

Frobisher patted her arm. "Melinda, if she's here I'll find her. Let me see what I can do. What's your friend's name?"

She ducked her head, preventing him from seeing those bright eyes cloud over in pain. And she told him Janice's name.

Frobisher hung up the phone with a sigh. Almost two weeks had passed since Mel's arrival in London. As he could've predicted, she threw herself into the work at hand, and was very good at it. He regretted that her duties called upon her to act as an escort to military functions for some of the Polish officers, many of whom, inevitably, grew infatuated with her. He noticed the weariness with which she threw off the advances; it was obvious to him that she was discouraged in her search, and losing faith.

Now, finally, after untying knots of bureaucracy, he had news for her. He wouldn't have imagined that finding one American WAC would be so time-consuming; but Janice Covington was, after all, only one of many involved in the war. And the news wasn't good. True, it could be worse, but it still wasn't good. He walked down the corridor to where she shared an office with two other translators. Only one of the translators, Cutts, was in the office. "Hello, sir," the young man greeted Frobisher; he was exempt from military service due to a heart problem.

"Hello, Cutts. Where's Melinda?"

"Think she went to the loo, sir."

Frobisher chuckled at his bluntness. He lingered at Mel's immaculate desk, and noticed the curling, black and white photo taped on the wall above her desk: It was Melinda, looking rather disheveled, with a small, fair-haired woman, wearing a fedora, who gazed at her rather intently. Rather adoringly. And Melinda? How often had he seen the girl grin like that, with such unfettered joy, with such abandon of her very serious, almost mask-like, demeanor?

Cutts noticed Frobisher’s interest in the photo. "It's an odd picture, isn't it, sir?" he said. "Doesn't do Miss Pappas justice, probably not her friend either." The older man smiled mysteriously. On the contrary, it does them more justice than you can imagine.

"I happen to like that photo." He heard Mel's soft voice from the doorway. He turned to her, and immediately his face gave everything away. "You found her?" Mel asked; her tone shifted, and crackled with nerves, almost like a static-filled broadcast.

Frobisher nodded with resignation. "She's in France, Melinda."

After he told her, she immediately went back to the WC, leaving the men staring after her in stunned silence. Crammed into the small room, she pulled off her glasses with a trembling hand and cried above the toilet. This is so...frustrating. Every time I think I'm getting closer...I find out she's somewhere else. Her glasses, cradled loosely in her curled hand, slipped out of her grasp and clattered to the floor. At least they didn't end up in the toilet. That would be just my luck about now. She could not stop the visceral, angry curse that welled up in her mind. God damn you, Janice.

*****

September, 1944

It was Paris, but it sure as hell wasn't springtime. A third-rate hotel served as their base of operations. It did not endear the French to Janice Covington, nor she to them—especially when she growled for whiskey in their dour cafes, and only got red table wine that made Thunderbird taste like Veuve Cliquot.

She walked out of the hotel, and saw him leaning against the ambulance they were taking. Blaylock threw the ambulance keys at her. They sang through the air with a whiz, hit Janice in the right breast, and fell to the ground with a ping. She scowled. He blushed. "Sorry. We've got to get going," he said.

"If they think I'm such an idiot, why are they letting me drive him there?" Janice grunted, scooping the keys from the ground. "They" referred to General Bradley's underlings, the American liaisons to the Force Francaise d'Interior (or FFI; that is, the Resistance), who called upon Captain Blaylock for a driver to escort Max Duval, an FFI leader, to Reims. What Duval would be up to in Reims, Blaylock was not told; but when the Captain offered Janice—the best driver of ambulance, jeep, and truck in Paris—for the mission, he was rebuffed. It took a good deal of conniving on Blaylock's part, but the authorities finally agreed to let Janice drive Duval—if she were escorted by Blaylock.

"They don't think you're an idiot, Janice. They're just touchy about this one. Duval is a pretty important guy, and he was almost killed in the street fighting that went on last month, before the Liberation. Besides, they promoted you, didn't they?" The thought of a WAC—who was also a private—undertaking this crucial task was more than their Division Leader could bear, so they promoted Janice. But not by much.

"Yes, I do so love the alliterative joy of Corporal Covington rolling off my tongue," she said sarcastically.

Blaylock grinned. "Well, if you wanted to be an officer, you should've gone into officers' training."

"I didn't want to be an officer," she snapped.

"Then why the hell are you complaining?" he retorted, confused.

They stopped walking toward the ambulance truck they were taking for the journey. After three months of blood, mud, and death, not to mention the growing realization that her feelings for Melinda Pappas had neither decreased nor deceased, Janice allowed herself a surly outburst, aimed at one of her closest friends: "Because I can."

Luckily, Blaylock was accustomed to such outbursts, having known Janice for many years, and merely shrugged it off. "Well, you need someone to come along anyway, since you barely know French," he chastised her in his gentle way.

Duval, still nursing a broken arm from his fight of several weeks ago, sat morosely in the ambulance truck's open hatch, waiting for them. Aside from her rudimentary Greek, Turkish, and Arabic, Janice knew very few modern languages; French, especially, was perplexing to her for some odd reason and she watched impatiently yet enviously as Blaylock conversed effortlessly with their charge. However, Duval's meaning was unmistakable to her when his moist dark eyes settled on her and he crooned, "Ah, un blonde ange." Both men grinned at her with sheer infatuation.

"Oh, Christ." Janice walked away with a growl and a roll of the eyes, and climbed into the driver's seat. "I hate the French."

Blaylock gestured for Duvall to enter the truck. Closing the hatch, he sauntered over to the passenger side as the engine kicked over.

As they drove out of the city, all was quiet. Judging from the heavy breathing in the back, Duval had fallen asleep. Blaylock studied Janice's sullen profile and racked his brain for conversation, for something to divert his cranky friend. He had noticed as of late she seemed moodier and moodier, more inclined to pick fights with everyone from their Division Leader (concerning the general lack of respect given to the WACs) to a whore on a street corner (who said she would charge Janice more than a regular customer, not only because she was a woman but an American as well). Well, that was my fault, I never should have dared Janice to ask her how much she would charge. Ah. He remembered something he wanted to tell Janice: "Guess who I ran into on Boulevard Saint Germain yesterday."

"Who?"

"Papageno."

Janice blinked in recognition at the name; Papageno was a Greek friend, an important contact in the world of archaeological digs. He could provide men, supplies, and the most crucial gossip with a snap of the fingers. "What's he doing in Paris? I thought he was sitting out the war in England."

"He was. But once he heard Paris was liberated, he came here. I think he wants to be closer to home. Anyway, he sends his regards, and said he would try to meet with you soon. He also asked if you received the scroll he sent you from England."

She remembered with a jolt. The scroll. God, I haven't even thought about it...it all seems like another lifetime ago. And I suppose it is. It also served as a reminder of Mel. But then, I don't need much to remind me of her. "Yeah, I did. I'll have to tell him."

"Are you working on a translation?" Blaylock asked, his professional curiosity piqued.

"Yeah," Janice replied absently.

"Are you using Nick Pappas's daughter again?"

The truck swerved violently, almost ending up in a ditch, and provoking a cry of "Mon Dieu!" from their startled passenger. Blaylock looked at her in alarm.

"Using?" Janice bristled.

"For the translation." Blaylock supplied impatiently. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Uh, yeah...I am...I...she has the scroll now. I left it in her hands." As well as my heart, my sanity, and everything else.

Blaylock's lips quirked as he suppressed a grin. A sudden instinct had overtaken him. "You know," he drawled sadistically, "I've never met Miss Pappas. But I know Clement Young, her former advisor at Vanderbilt."

"Really." Janice said flatly. The last thing she wanted was to talk about was Mel. It's bad enough she consumes my mind...if I dare talk about her, I think I will go crazy.

"Yeah. Clem says she quite brilliant. Practically a genius."

"It's true," Janice quietly affirmed.

"And she's quite a knockout, he says."

Corporal Covington was silent.

"I believe his expression was, 'She's got legs for miles.'" What he omitted was Young's further commentary on the subject: "It's a shame, though: I think she's queerer than a two dollar bill."

Corporal Covington clenched her jaw.

"No opinion on that, Covington?" he teased gently.

And since when did Corporal Covington not have an opinion on a woman? A bittersweet realization hit Blaylock: The woman he was in love with was finally in love with someone. And it still wasn't him.

*****

In an effort to find out more information about her missing friend, Sergeant McKay, Frobisher's assistant, directed Mel to the St. George, a pub that WACs were known to frequent. She selected a Friday evening to go there. It wasn't terribly crowded, and while she was thankful of that, it decreased her chances of finding Janice. She scanned the room and spotted a group of khaki-clad American women at a table. None of them resembled the fiery-haired archaeologist. With a sigh she walked up to the bar. The barkeep smiled and nodded at her; however, before she could order a drink a decidedly unfamiliar hand cupped her ass. What is it with men and my behind? she thought, spinning around in anger. A British soldier, a sergeant, was grinning at her.

"Meg, love! Didn't know you was back in town!" he cried happily in a Cockney accent. His eyes roamed her figure. "Nice outfit! Thought you was doin' your bit overseas, drivin' an' all that. But I'm real glad you're back."

"Sir," she replied icily, "I'm afraid you're mistaken. My name is not Meg."

He doubled up in laughter upon hearing her accent. "Bloody hell! That's great...I reckon if Vivian Leigh can play Scarlett O'Hara, so can you!"

"Sir...sergeant," she said, gritting her teeth, "I am not who you think I am." She rifled through her purse, pulling out her work papers and passport, thrusting the documents in his face. As his laughter subsided, he studied the papers. His face paled. "Jesus H. Christ, miss, I'm sorry!" he apologized. "I really thought you was Meg...you're her spittin' image."

"That's quite all right," she replied, relieved that he believed her.

"I should've known a classy-lookin' woman like you was no Meg." Oh wonderful, he's a talker...and a drunk one at that. He'll never shut up. " 'Specially since I heard she's..." He held out a hand, palm down, wiggling it. "gone a little queer...they say she had a bit of funny business on a ship with some American lass. An' I can tell you certainly aren't one of those types of women."

Because he managed to snag Mel's interest, she let his last comment pass. "On a ship?" she asked. Could it be...?

"Yeah, transport to France. 'Bout three months ago." It fit in with the date of Janice's departure for Normandy, she realized; Frobisher had supplied her with the time line. "My mate was a watch on board. Said he recognized Meg from the old days, when she and I went out together. Well, he gets on duty one mornin', see, and hears these noises in a supply room. And there was no mistakin' what them noises were about. He figures it's one of the officers having it off with one of the ladies, and they deserve to have one last time together before hitting the ground, eh? So he doesn't bother 'em. Well, 'bout an hour later he sees Meg come out with some little American WAC!" the sergeant finished the story on a note of incredulous laughter.

Mel slumped onto a barstool. Was that Janice? Who else would be brave—or stupid enough—to do something like that? Was she sleeping with another woman already? And why someone who looks like me? It makes no sense...running away from me to become involved with someone who looks like me? I am never going to figure this out. She scowled, and recalled the woman named Velasko, and her parting words to Mel: "If you ever find Janice Covington, tell her I'm gonna kill her." Take a number, Miss Velasko, Mel thought darkly.

*****

There was a church in Reims, they were told, where they were to deliver Duval. As they reached the town's outskirts, Janice's eyes scanned the rubble and husks of buildings that began to surround them with increasing alarm. "How can we tell what goddamn building is the church?" Janice complained.

"Janice, if anyone could put goddamn and church in the same sentence, it would be you," Blaylock retorted. But he also looked discouraged. Finally he yelled back to Duval, who scurried up to the front. "Ou est la eglise?" he asked the Frenchman, who frantically scanned the streets.

"Ici! Ici!" Duval cried, pointing at a large building which, indeed, still resembled a church, despite its crumbling facade; a stone lineup of angels adorned the top of its entrance, all part of an elaborate-heaven and-hell scene, with its details chipped away. Jesus was missing the arm which pointed upward; demons had faces blown off, rendering them even scarier. The ambulance pulled up too the door. Before Blaylock could stop him, Duval had opened the hatch and was out of the vehicle. A thin man, dressed in black, peered from the open doorway of the church. He then came out and hugged Duval.

"Aw, that's sweet," Janice said, only semi-sarcastically. Blaylock, however, could never get used to the intense fraternal affection of Frenchmen, and he glanced about awkwardly. After a few minutes of speaking with his comrade and some others who emerged from the church, Duval bounded over to them and smothered the Captain with an embrace. Janice laughed at Blaylock's consternation. "Merci beaucoup, mon ami," Duval whispered into the Captain's ear. Then he released Blaylock and turned to Janice. "Ah, Madamoiselle Covington!" he breathed ecstatically. It was Blaylock's turn to laugh.

"Dr. Covington," Janice corrected automatically. Duval blinked in confusion.

"Corporal Covington," Blaylock threw in. Duval looked even more confused. Then he shrugged with a Frenchman's insouciance. "Au revoir, mon blonde ange," he whispered melodramatically and planted a kiss on Janice's lips. She pulled back, sputtering.

Duval's dark-clad comrade came out of the church with a small rucksack. He handed it wordlessly, with a smile, to Blaylock. The Captain opened it and returned the smile grateful at the sight of apples, cheese, bread, and a wineskin. With a final wave the two men departed into the church.

She waited until they had disappeared behind the door, and she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "Did I mention I hate the French?" she grumbled as they climbed back into the ambulance truck.

The sound of the wheels blowing out was so like an explosion that Janice thought they hit a mine. The truck swerved violently, spinning around almost 360 degrees, until the end of the vehicle slammed into a tree. Her jaw hit the steering wheel and she bit part of her lip at the impact. But the vehicle was still, and they had not blown up, although the radiator was smoking from under the hood.

She looked at Blaylock, who was rubbing his knee. "You all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, just banged my knee against the dash. You?"

"Fine. The steering wheel packs a hell of a punch, though." She rubbed her jaw. "What happened?"

"Don't know. Either you ran over something sharp in the road, or we set off a mine that, luckily, had a delayed explosion."

She jumped out of the truck. They were on a slight incline, with the passenger side tilted upward. Before Janice could suggest that Blaylock come out on her side, he kicked open his door and jumped out. "Shit!" he cried as she heard him fall with a thud. She ran over to him. He sat on the ground, now rubbing his ankle instead of his knee. "What?" she asked.

"Great. Now I think I sprained my ankle," he moaned.

She held a hand down to him. He grabbed it and hauled himself up; as always, he was impressed with her strength. He leaned on her lightly, relishing the physical contact between them, despite the throbbing pain in his ankle and the grim circumstances. How in the hell do we get out of this?

Janice scanned the road. Her breath caught at the sight: huge shards of broken glass were trailed along the road. "Son of a bitch! I ran over glass and I didn't see it!" She disengaged herself from Blaylock, who leaned against the truck for support.

Blaylock peered into the road. "It's clear glass, Janice. It's hard to see it," he said gently. He knew immediately she would beat herself up about it.

"Fuck!" she screamed, and furiously started to kick at the truck and its flat tires. Obviously she would beat up the faultless vehicle as well. I just have to keep her from kicking me around too, he thought. "Janice," he began patiently, "It was an accident. By the time you would have seen it, it would've been too late anyway. Besides, if you're gonna blame anyone, blame me. I was distracting you by trashing the Giants anyway." He watched as her stopped kicking, and her ragged breathing relaxed into a stable rhythm. "Sorry," she panted.

"Forget about it. Let's just concentrate on getting out of here." They were both silent for a moment. Janice paced, hands crammed into her back pockets, glaring at the road. Then it hit Blaylock. "Hey! There was a farm about two miles back—"

"A farm?" she echoed.

"Yeah, you didn't see it. It was on my side of the road. It looked pretty abandoned, but there was a truck there! I remember seeing it. If we could get that truck...I mean, if there are people there maybe they would drive us to Paris, or we could exchange the food for the vehicle..."

"Or if there isn't anyone there, I could hotwire it," Janice grinned.

He stared at her. She was a doctor—an intelligent and admired professional in her field (in spite of her father's reputation), a Harvard graduate, and a beautiful woman. But she was also as much of a roughneck and hooligan as her father, the infamous Harry Covington. It was the duality of Janice that intrigued him, and compelled him to love her. "Where in hell did you learn to hotwire a car?" She opened her mouth to reply, and he cut her off: "Never mind, I don't want to know. Okay, let's walk back to that farm." Tentatively he put all his weight on both legs, and winced when the swollen ankle screamed its protest.

"Wait a minute, hotshot. You're not going anywhere. You can hardly walk." With a gentle shove she pushed him against the truck again.

"The truck's not going to come to us, Janice."

"Look, why don't you let me go get it and I'll bring it back. You stay here."

His face darkened. "No deal, Covington. I'm not letting you go alone."

"For Christ's sake, Dan, you're injured. You have to admit you'd slow me down if you came along. Hell, I could run there if I went by myself."

"You don't know—"

"—any French, yes, I know, but I know how to pantomime real well, and I think between that and my pidgin French I'll convey the urgency of our need."

He sighed. He knew he would regret this, but he nodded his consent. "All right," he growled. He handed her his .45."Take this, and the food for the swap. I've a got a rifle in the back, so I'll be okay." She tucked the gun into her waistband, under the cover of her jacket, as if she had been doing such a thing for years. And she probably has, he thought. Another thing I don't want to know about.

She grinned. "I'll be back," she said, and took off, jogging lightly down the road. Wistfully, he watched her form grow smaller until it disappeared from his sight.

*****

Indeed, the small farmhouse had been abandoned; there was not even livestock, although there was blood to indicate most of it had been slaughtered, rather sloppily, for food. At least I hope it's animal blood, and not human, Janice thought as she carefully prowled around the buildings, handgun drawn. Her search yielded no one, living or dead.

The truck was, to her astonished pleasure, a very old Ford. She checked under the hood for any suspicious wires, which might indicate a bomb, and found none. The body was terribly rusty, and, given its age, it was harder for her to start it than she had hoped. But eventually the engine turned over, and she hopped into the driver's seat triumphantly.

The old truck lurched down the road. She was reluctant to drive it fast, in case it would die. As she approached the wrecked ambulance she saw no sign of Blaylock. She beeped the horn, which resounded shrilly in her ears. This is not good. Where is he?

She put the brake on, and, with the truck running, came out of the vehicle. "Dan!" she shouted. She noticed that the hatch of the ambulance was open in the back. Which it hadn't been before. Briskly she walked toward the truck, thoughts racing. He's okay...maybe he just fell asleep...no need to panic, no need...

She turned the corner, looking into the ambulance and the eyes of a German soldier. He was crouched down and shoving medical supplies from a metal chest into a large rucksack. Blaylock, she noticed, was face down behind him. In a dark pool.

They could only stare at each other, stunned, the American woman and the German soldier. He looked young, perhaps a little younger than me, Janice thought. This moment of empathy gave him just enough time. Just enough time for his expression to change from shock to recognition to rage. Just enough time to draw his pistol and shoot her.

At first she couldn't believe she was shot, but the pinprick of pain in her thigh unfurled like a fire and within moments a sticky warmth started to drip down her leg. Another shot, and she fell back, this second bullet also lodged in her leg. She gasped as she hit the ground, and waited for him to shoot again. But he went back to stuffing his rucksack. Obviously stealing the bandages, ointments, and instruments were far more important, and he had no time to be merciful and kill her quickly. He would just let her linger, let her die slowly, like her friend.

Her friend. There was a bloody smear on the edge of the door. A fresh one. Is Dan dead?. She groped for the .45. So it comes down to this. "Hey!!" she screamed. The soldier's head snapped around. She pumped three bullets into his chest. His gun, which he had drawn after the first shot, clattered onto the metal floor and slid toward her, like an offering. She stared at the Luger, panting. I've never had to shoot anyone before...

She stood up—ignoring the runaway blood that coursed down her leg and the faint feeling that accompanied it—and crawled into the back of the truck, to where Blaylock lay. She turned him over. His torso was slick with blood. He had been shot twice in stomach. But he was still alive. Barely. "Janice?" he whispered. His eyes were wide, unfocused, and staring past her, into the unknown, into a future that was far away from her.

She struggled not to cry. "Jesus, Dan," she said huskily, "I leave you alone, and look at all the trouble you get in. I'm the one who's supposed to get into trouble here."

"Yeah, sorry." He gave her a weak smile. "The son of a bitch. He caught me off guard..."

"Shhh, Dan, be quiet.. I've got to fix that wound." She started to move away but his bloody hand gripped hers.

"Too late," he gasped. "Let it go."

She knew it too. But fought it nonetheless. "No!" she screamed. She scrambled toward the rucksack, pulling out bandages. The floor was slippery with his blood, and she practically slid across the truck. Jesus...I'm going to faint. I can't Not now. "I have to get you into the other truck," she breathed heavily.

"Shit, Janice, you're wounded too," he said, spotting the growing crimson stain on her trousers, as she crawled back, cradling bandages.

She pressed a bundle of gauze to his stomach. "Hold on to that. I'm going to try and move you..."

"Wait," he said feebly.

"No, I can't, Dan, I've got to..." I've got to...I've screwed up again, haven't I? She dropped her head, and the tears came.

"Please...don't, Janice. It'll be okay." He touched her arm with a shaky hand. "Just stay with me for a moment."

She cradled his head and placed it on her lap, wrapping an arm around him.

"I'm sorry, Dan. So sorry."

He coughed. Blood speckled his lips. "Not your fault the damn Kraut shot me."

"No, it's not that." I'm sorry about hurting you. I laughed when you found me in bed with a woman, remember? I'll never forget the agony of your face. Why did you—and why do you continue to—love me? "I'm sorry about us."

He understood. "I know." He smiled weakly. "Fat lot of good that does both of us, huh?" She tried to smile back at him, but his words hit home. She dropped her gaze. Then he said, "Janice?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it her—Dr. Pappas's daughter?"

"Yes," she admitted softly.

"Did...something go wrong?"

Goddammit, Dan, you're here dying and you're quizzing me on my love life? Nonetheless, the words tumbled out of her. "It was me, Dan. I acted like a fool."

"You go back...get back to her and fix it," he said hoarsely. "Make sure you get home."

She felt his breathing slip away to nothing, disappearing with the light as twilight drifted over them. She lost track of how long she sat there with his body, drifting in and out of consciousness, until a pair of headlights blinded her and she heard the screeching of a vehicle and voices, speaking English, that grew louder and louder as they approached her.

*****

Gabrielle awoke with her lover's name on her lips. "Xena?"

She was back in her hut; it was night, and in the dim candlelight she made out Ephiny's slender form, sitting beside her on the bed. "Sorry to disappoint you, But I'm not Xena," the regent replied with a smile.

Gabrielle cleared her throat. "Did we—" Ephiny reached for a mug of water on the table next to them, and held it to the Queen's lips. She drank it greedily and gratefully.

"Yes. We were triumphant. After Petrus was killed, a lot of his men lost heart. It was a quick battle, and we had very few losses. A lot of injuries, though."

The Queen tried to sit up; Ephiny assisted, and gently propped the bard in a sitting position with some pillows. Her wrist was bandaged in a splint, and another around her thigh. "Where is Xena?" she asked nervously.

"She's fine, Gabrielle. She's at the common baths."

"Oh." The bard frowned, wondering why Xena did not use their private bath. "Why didn't she—"

"She didn't want to disturb you. Look, how are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. My wrist hurts more than the leg. And I'm hungry."

"Big surprise. Let me bring you some food." Ephiny stood up.

Gabrielle swung her legs onto the floor. "Wait, I'm coming with you."

"Oh no you're not. Xena will chop me into tiny pieces and feed me to the dogs if I let you out of this hut."

"Actually, I think she likes you too much...to feed you to the dogs. But if I'm not mistaken, I'm the boss around here, right? " She felt the old anger rise, the anger she usually directed at the warrior when she was being "protected." I'm not a kid. "I want to see people, visit the wounded, make sure everything is okay." She glared at Ephiny, who held up her hands in surrender.

Leaning on the regent, Gabrielle limped through the village. Tired warriors greeted her, the children were back, and the wounded in the healer's hut were a minimum. Ephiny reported four Amazon deaths in all, an astonishingly low figure.

They ended their walking tour with a stop in the food hall. By this time Gabrielle's leg was screaming with agony, and she plopped down on a bench while Ephiny raided the kitchen. I wonder if I could get Ephiny to carry me back...her half-serious thought was interrupted by loud voices outside, the door swinging open, and Eponin and Solari entering the food hall.

Solari was exhorting her friend, "Are you kiddin', Pony, it was awesome to watch her...she slices, she dices, she..."

Eponin caught sight of the Queen, and clapped her hand over Solari's mouth. The indignant Amazon made a muffled noise of outrage. Then she followed Eponin's gaze to where Gabrielle sat, frowning at them.

"Hi, Gabrielle," Eponin said innocently.

"Mrehlow, Abrial," Solari said through the hand.

"Hi, girls," Gabrielle replied sarcastically. "Who are you gossiping about?"

"No one," Eponin said meekly. With a warning look to her friend, she withdrew her hand from Solari's mouth.

"No, just the uh...new cook. She has very impressive chopping abilities...I've never seen anyone de-seed a pomegranate the way she does..." Solari babbled. Eponin rolled her eyes.

"Nice try, Sol, but no one knows better than I how well Xena slices and dices," Gabrielle said.

The Amazons were shame-faced. "Sorry, we know you don't like hearing about stuff like that," Eponin said.

"It's okay." Gabrielle smiled at them. I don't like hearing about that...about Xena killing like that. But it's a part of her...and I've accepted the whole package deal, right?

Ephiny stumbled out of the kitchen, with a rucksack of food so large it blocked most of her upper body. "Is this enough?" she asked.

*****

Gabrielle leaned on Eponin for the walk back to her hut, Ephiny and Solari ahead of them, carrying the food. As they arrived at the door, Solari playfully kicked it open and she and Ephiny entered to deposit the food.

They came scattering out like crazed ants. "Beat it, Pony!!! She's in there!" Solari shouted as she ran by Eponin and Gabrielle.

"Oh gods!!!" Eponin took off as well and Gabrielle found herself lurching into empty space. She caught herself before falling and limped into the hut.

Xena, clad only in a shift, stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed. A bounty of foodstuffs was spilled at her feet, like some haphazard offering.

Blue eyes drilled into the bard. "Where," began the warrior in her lowest, most deadliest tones, "in the...Hades...have you...been?"

Quick, say something. It was an idiotic impulse, one which had—and would—plague her for the rest of her life. "Oh great warrior goddess, most powerful one, see you not the tribute my minions and I bring to you?" Gabrielle spread out her arms, indicating the food on the floor.

"You should be in bed," the warrior continued in the same dark tone.

"My love, words like that from your lips I cannot resist." With that, the bard hobbled past the food and playfully flopped on the bed, which jarred the stitches in her thigh; a cry of pain escaped her mouth, which blossomed into a comely pout.

"I have no sympathy for you," grunted the warrior. Nonetheless Xena sat on the bed and carefully undid the bandage around the bard's leg. "Mmmm, Lydia did a good job with the stitches. I see no sign of infection." Her blue eyes scanned Gabrielle's body, not with the appraisal of a lover, but the scrutiny of a healer. "You've a nasty bruise and a big cut on your calf, though. How's your wrist?"

"Feeling better."

"Good. Try not to jostle it too much. I'm going to put some salve on that leg." She walked over to the table, where her healing pouch was. She returned to the bard, her hands covered liberally with a thick herbal paste that she rubbed gently yet firmly into the injury.

"You must've had a busy day," Gabrielle said. "I should be rubbing you down."

The warrior smiled. How does she make it both gentle and wicked at once? wondered Gabrielle. "That comes later."

"Ahhhh," replied the bard knowingly, with a leer.

"I think you're a little too banged up for that."

Once again the bard resorted to pouting. She sighed, and gave up. "I'm glad we didn't have a lot of deaths. I mean, there were a lot of injuries, but Eph told me the centaurs got hit even worse."

"Yeah, and on top of it all they lost their healer a few days ago. Fell down a ravine. Died from the injuries." All the while Xena continued a steady massaging rhythm into the bard's leg.

Gabrielle gasped. "Gods! You're kidding! What did they do after this battle? Surely Lydia couldn't handle all of them...unless you helped." It dawned on her: Xena had been in the centaur village. For the first time since Solon's death six months ago. She stilled her lover's hands. "Xena?" Her eyes grew teary. "Why didn't you say..."

"Well, I was going to say...in my time." The warrior's crystalline eyes were darkened by the fire and the candlelight, but her tone was deep and gentle. "It felt funny at first...I kept looking for him, but I remembered he wasn't...there anymore. Then, the wounded started coming in." She gave a light shrug. "And I just didn't have time to think about it anymore." She looked up at Gabrielle. A look of anguish, one that she had not seen in quite a while, had contorted the young woman's face. "Gabrielle?" she whispered.

The bard looked into the fire, as if she wished to be devoured and undone by it. As she had been devoured by the god Dahak, and by her own guilt of the events that followed. This cycle never really ends, does it?

"Gabrielle," Xena said again, softly. "Stop." The bard's small hand flew to her cheek and she rubbed it, allowing her fingers to staunch the flow of some tears. A larger hand, sticky with salve, covered her own. "Stop," repeated the warrior. "Don't hold yourself responsible for this any longer. Because I don't. And no one else does."

Gabrielle's look held surprise. Which, in turn, stunned Xena.

"Do you think I hold you responsible, still?" Xena's voice was low, urgent, incredulous. "Do you think I would have allowed myself to be brought to you the other night, that I would've surrendered my heart to you, if I still felt anger toward you, if I still felt that...hatred?" She permitted herself to shudder at the memories of the past year.

The tears fell freely now. "No," Gabrielle conceded. "You're right. I just...what I truly hate is what we put each other through."

"Me too," the warrior agreed, brushing Gabrielle's cheek lightly, with her knuckles. They looked at each other for a long moment, not saying anything, not needing to.

Silence, however, was not a state that the bard indulged in for long. "Hey, how did you get so damn eloquent all of a sudden?" she cracked.

"I think it's your influence, Gabrielle." Using the back of her hand, Xena wiped away the lingering tears on her companion's cheeks. She then returned to the task of rubbing the salve into Gabrielle's leg.

"Well, it's only fair, don't you think? You influence me in a lot of ways."

To her delight, the warrior looked pleased. "How so?"

"Well, let's just say I've never enjoyed having a sword in my hand until today. I felt it, Xena. That rush...it wasn't exactly battlelust. But I felt the spirit. Your spirit." She paused. "Am I making sense?"

"In a poetic, bardly kinda way," snorted the Warrior Princess. "I'm not sure this is something you should be happy about experiencing."

Gabrielle chuckled. "No, it is a good thing. I want to experience it all, don't you? Well, I guess you have...but I haven't. When I tell a story, it's like I'm painting a world. Creating it. And I think for a long time I was only using a few colors. Do you see?"

Xena nodded.

"Now, I think, I've loved you long enough to see the world through your eyes sometimes. And to use the colors your vision has brought to me."

The practical warrior pondered all this. It's all kinda artsy-fartsy, but it makes sense, I suppose. "But the...colors I've brought to your world, Gabrielle, they have been pretty dark."

The bard leaned forward and captured the warrior's lips in a long kiss. Then the urge to talk outweighed the desire to kiss. "Oh no, no, Xena. You aren't just blackness. There is lightness there, in the blue of your eyes that leads to your soul, and the red vibrancy in your lips, and the gold of your skin..."

"Mmmm," Xena murmured with approval, as a series of kisses were linked in a chain of desire down her throat, "I think that graffiti I saw on Ares' temple in Athens was true: 'Bards Are Better Lovers.' "

"It is true. Although I just wrote it to piss off that old he-goat who calls himself the God of War."

"Gabrielle!"

*****

November, 1944

He thought he'd seen it and heard it all from the old man. Sergeant McKay had served as Frobisher's assistant for almost a year now, and in that time he had to memorize as many Gilbert & Sullivan operettas as he could manage (sometimes Frobisher liked some impromptu duets from him and Scotti, the unemployed, one-armed, opera singer doing cryptography), as well as the old man's tea rituals ("McKay! I told you, Earl Grey in the morning, and Darjeeling in the afternoon! Darjeeling is an afternoon tea.").

Then, one afternoon, the old man was roaring at him once again: "McKay! Come quickly!" With a roll of the eyes the chubby Irishman lumbered into the Colonel's office. Frobisher stood excitedly at his window, his walking stick pointing at something outside, the tip of the stick eagerly tapping the glass pane. "McKay! See that woman down there?" The Sergeant looked out the window; in front of the courtyard, near the stone fence that surrounded the building, stood a blonde woman dressed in khaki, lighting a cigarette. "Fetch her! Bring her to me at once!"

"Sir!" McKay cried, outraged. This is too much. I won't be procuring women for him as well, he thought.

"Damn you, McKay! I said now! Go get her! That's an order!"

The color drained from McKay's ruddy face. He was not the type to disobey an order, and in that respect he might have made a fine Nazi. Nonetheless he reluctantly jogged to the steps, and the momentum of his bulk carried him down the staircase rather swiftly. He half-hoped the young woman had escaped, for her own good. God knows what the old bastard would do to her. But the woman was still there, smoking. She wore the uniform of a WAC, and was much prettier than he initially thought. She glared at him with suspicion as he approached.

"Excuse me, miss." McKay couldn't get used to it—the idea of women in the military. Hence he usually disregarded calling them by rank. "I've been asked to escort you to Colonel Frobisher's office."

The young woman's brow creased in puzzlement. "Who?"

McKay sighed in exasperation. "Colonel Frobisher! Commanding Officer of the Intelligence Corps!" He pointed in the general direction of Frobisher's office.

"Why?" the woman asked yet another question.

"I don't know, miss. Just come with me, please."

Taking one last drag on a cigarette, the woman shrugged her acquiescence and dropped her smoke on the ground, crushing it with a black heel. McKay took off at a quick clip, then realized the woman was not at his side. He stopped and turned around. She was walking slowly, with a pronounced limp. "I'm sorry, miss." McKay said. "Didn't mean to take off like that." The woman merely smiled and nodded at his apology.

Frobisher was waiting impatiently until his door opened and McKay appeared breathless. "Here she is, sir," he said warily, and showed the woman in.

As she stood before him, Frobisher took her in: slender yet muscular; he had noticed the limp as she came in. Her green eyes burned in her tanned face, a mass of reddish blonde hair was pinned up haphazardly in a sloppy bun. A cap hung limply from a back pocket. He admired the defiance in her eyes. Oooooh, Melinda, you picked a lively one. Nonetheless, he had to show the impertinent girl, who merely stared at him, who was in command. "Good God, young woman," he growled, "don't they teach you to salute your superiors?"

Instantly she straightened; standing at attention, she knocked off a crisp salute. "Sir!" she said firmly.

"Name and rank?"

"Covington, Janice. Corporal." She paused. "Sir."

"Division?"

"The 13th, sir."

"Ah. You were in Paris recently, no?"

"Yes, sir."

He nodded at her leg. "Wounded, then?"

"Yes, sir."

"What happened?"

"I was shot by a German soldier, who was trying to steal medical supplies from an ambulance. He killed my commanding officer."

"And the soldier got away?"

Janice's eyes flickered with something; he was not sure what. "No sir. I...killed him."

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "At ease, Corporal." She relaxed gratefully. "You're a very brave woman."

She said nothing. He let it go. Not easy to kill a man. The first time's the hardest.

"I suppose you're wondering why I brought you here."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"We have a mutual friend." He paused. "I believe you know a lovely young woman named Melinda Pappas?" Covington's cocky facade dropped like a stone. Not so spunky now, are we? Amazing, I've never seen someone go pale quite so quickly.

"Yes...sir," she whispered.

"Melinda's father was a very good friend of mine. And I've known her since she was a child." Frobisher peered at Janice critically. "Melinda's been looking for you, you know. She's been in London for nigh on six months now."

Janice could barely mask the shock on her face. "I wasn't aware, sir," she replied hoarsely.

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Well, you are now, aren't you? And what shall you do about it?"

*****

As usual, Mel had fallen asleep in her clothes. She spent so much time between work and hiding out in air raid shelters that she saw little point in undressing most of the time, except to bathe; and, in the face of the cold, wet English weather that she was unused to, she had abandoned her usual skirts and dresses in favor of warmer, more practical clothing. She wore a pair of baggy gray flannel trousers that Frobisher had given her, saying that they used to belong to a male "friend," and a white blouse, one of her own.

A faint boom had awakened her, along with the droning sound of the air raid siren. Time to get out into the shelter again. She groped for her glasses in the near dark, and could not find them. Sighing, she stretched and got up. The colonel had also provided her with a huge black overcoat, and now she donned it and stepped outside. The coat felt heavy and protective, like armor, yet it was also soft and warm.

Outside the apartment building were a few fellows from the building. Several of them worked in HQ as she did; in fact, Cutts, her office mate, lived in the building too. The young man was now smoking a cigarette and watching the light flashes from the east. He saw her approach. "Melinda," he said with a nod.

"Hello, Frank. What's goin' on?"

"Lots of coastal activity. Might not reach us." They continued to watch the lights in silence. Then a noise pierced the twilight: a shrill whistle grew in intensity and an explosion shook the ground. From a mere half-mile away they saw it: bright orange light and smoke. Mel grasped his arm, and he instinctively touched her hand. "But then again..." Cutts whispered, "I may be wrong."

*****

Son of a bitch.

It was early morning, almost eight o'clock. Janice walked as quickly as she could down the street. The air raid of the night before prevented her from finding Mel. She was, of course, pressed into service, and had driven an ambulance to one of the outer neighborhoods, which had been quite devastated. Thus her night had passed, driving, digging for bodies, administering first aid, and sleeping in the back of the truck when she could, the sharp bitter tang of medicine and blood curling in her nostrils. And it was hard to sleep, but not due to the smells, or her exhaustion: It was her realization that Mel was here...in this goddamned, godforsaken war zone of a city.

In the morning, when she was off-duty and supposedly sleeping, she headed for the address that Frobisher had given her. It was not far away, but her bad leg ached a little as she walked. She wished the damn leg would heal faster, but the doctor did tell her it would take a while, and that both the pain and the limp should decrease dramatically in due time.

As she grew closer to her destination, she saw that this area too had been hit by the raid. Part of this street she traversed had been decimated and lie in charred, darkened ruins. Remnants of smoke curled lazily, enveloping the street. She froze, her heart in her mouth. What if...? Her leg throbbed, telegraphing its message of distress, and she leaned against a lamp post, breathing heavily. She hung her head, a hand over her eyes, unable to look at the ruins. If it is true...I can't bear it. I can't lose her. Not now. If she's dead, it's because of me...she followed me here. The responsibility hit her like a punch in the gut. She wanted to turn and run, not find out...wouldn't it be better not to know at all, than to find out that Mel was dead? To imagine her living happily, and not see a body, another dead broken body? Too much death. I've had too much. I do not want to see hers. I couldn't bear it. Almost imperceptibly, her body shifted, as if to head back the way she came.

Don't walk away.

The voice inside her was new. Yet old in its origins. It felt so thoroughly a part of her that she never believed it was her ancestor, but she realized, standing on that street corner, that it was. She'd heard it in Macedonia, after she'd pulled Mel out of the cave, when Jack Kleinman impulsively took a photo of her and Mel. She had looked at Mel and, as the camera clicked, so did everything else. I've found you, the voice had said. Janice had shrugged it off, chalking it up to too much booze the night before and her always raging hormones, but now, finally, she could not deny the way in which she was drawn to Melinda. No matter how much she drank. No matter how many bar-room brawls she indulged in. No matter how far she would run.

A fate, a destiny, a bond. Call it what you will. Your courage has carried you this far. It will get you through.

All you have to do is look up. Now the voice sounded...amused. But before she could comply, she felt a gentle touch on her arm. And when she did look up, it was into the blue eyes that she would love for all her life, and beyond that.

Mel was thinner, perhaps even a little gaunt, and looked tired. This was all exacerbated by the large, dramatic dark overcoat she wore, and her black hair, which, uncharacteristically, hung loose and tumbled past her shoulders. Her long, elegant hand lingered on Janice's arm as they stared at each other.

"I've...found you." Janice thought it best to start with Gabrielle's words.

Mel's jaw shifted, as a sea of words and emotion, stymied over the course of a year, threatened to spill out into incomprehension. "You found me? I've been looking for you..." she sputtered.

"I know. I'm...sorry. Are you hurt?" Tentatively she pulled on Mel's sleeve, and surveyed the streets; people were talking on streets corners, pulling out wreckage, helping their neighbors, their homes destroyed, damaged, ruined. Lives were disrupted, but life went on, and no one seemed to pay attention to two lovestruck American women gazing intently into each other's eyes. Perhaps even the most unsympathetic passerby would admit it was better than having a bomb dropped on one's home.

"No, I'm fine. Just tired. Our block wasn't hit, luckily. Just some smoke damage....I was on my way to the office..." Mel continued to stare at Janice in utter disbelief. When she first saw a fair-haired, khaki-clad woman standing dejected, leaning against a lamp post, she thought, too little sleep and no glasses makes for pleasant hallucinations. But as she drew closer, she knew it was Janice. It was really her; she was really here. Don’t be a ninny and start crying now, Melinda Pappas. Nonetheless the unbidden tears sprang into her eyes. "God," she whispered, "there's so much I've wanted to say to you."

"I know, Mel. I’m sorry about what happened..." Janice trailed off.

"You mean...you regret it?" The tall woman’s voice had dropped to an agonized whisper.

"Jesus, no, I didn’t mean...that. I don’t regret that. I meant, I shouldn’t have left the way I did..." Quick, say it before you lose your nerve. "Look, I have only two things to say to you at the moment," she gulped. Come on, I can do this, after everything I've been through this past year...surely this is not hard. Or is it, quite possibly, the hardest thing I've ever done? "I love you. I think I always have, from the minute I saw you." She paused again, for effect. "And I'll never leave you again." Another pause. "Actually, I guess that was three..."

Mel seemed stunned, as if the Nazis had dropped a bomb on her head.

"You're not gonna faint again, are you?" Janice asked anxiously, recalling that fateful visit a year and a half ago, when Mel fainted at the sight of her. That should have told me something, then. Would a native southerner faint at just a little heat? No, it would take a lot of heat to lay this woman low. She allowed herself to smile a little, and was pleased to see Mel return the smile.

Mel shook her head vigorously. "No, I, uh..." The tall woman was clearly exasperated and befuddled. "Janice Covington, I don't know whether I should slap you or kiss you."

"I think I would prefer the latter, although I don't blame you if you do the former." Janice grinned. "Or you could compromise and do both..."

She was rewarded with a dazzling smile and a laugh from her lover, who enfolded her in an embrace, into the blackness of her coat. She closed her eyes with relief and inhaled Mel's scent. Surrounded by the dark warmth of the coat, her mind's eye was radiant with color.

*****

"You haven't asked about the scroll."

A curious hand fluttered against Mel's taut stomach. "Hmmmm?" Janice drawled sleepily.

To Mel, the drab flat where she had spent the past six months had never looked better. For two days she had not left the room, and hardly exited the bed she shared with Janice. The wily old Frobisher had wrangled a two-day leave for Janice, and excused Mel from her duties. He even sent over an embarrassed McKay with some food; the sergeant's overtaxed heart fluttered at the sight of Mel in a bathrobe, and the tiniest glimpse of the American WAC that he had led into his CO's office the other day, scantily clad (wearing a T-shirt and men's boxers) and lounging about on the bed. It's even worse than I imagined. In fact, I don't know what to imagine, McKay thought miserably as he left.

Night had fallen over weary London. Mel poked the slumbering woman who was curled up against her. "Corporal Covington, honey, don't fall asleep."

"Mmmmnrfph."

"Janice, don't you want to know what the scroll said? About Gabrielle?" Mel sank lower into the bed, turning to face her lover, and anchored her hands into the thick fiery hair. Impulsively she kissed Janice passionately, hoping it would awaken and arouse the weary WAC, so that they could talk about the scroll. I know, it's classic bait and switch, but all's fair in love and war...she thought.

For a moment, it seemed to work: The green eyes fluttered open with surprise, then the lids drooped down again and Janice broke the kiss. "You're an exhausting woman," she moaned in protest. Mel raced her hand over the dangerous, delectable curve of Janice's hip. "But don't stop touching me. Ever."

"I won't."

"Mel, I love you."

"And I love you, but...about the scroll..."

" 'Kay, tell me...I'm listening..." mumbled Janice, half-asleep, face buried in a pillow.

Mel narrowed her eyes in exasperation. "All right, here's what I've found out thus far. Ares becomes smitten with Gabrielle and makes her his Chosen. She goes on a violent rampage and conquers all of Greece, murdering ten times more people than Xena ever did. Meanwhile, Xena opens a bordello in Athens and secretly pens the Satiryca for Petronius."

"Ah, good old Gabrielle."

Mel, shaking her head, sighed in defeat. "Good night, Janice," she said, planting a kiss on Janice's forehead.

"Hail to the Queen, baby," Janice muttered, half-asleep.

Melinda Pappas arched an eyebrow in pleasant surprise. She smiled as she curled up to sleep next to her companion.

END!

[spidermanswifi]

force of nature

bucky barnes x reader

summary: y/n is a shapeshifter living in wakanda as the keeper of the animals. she meets bucky as he is recuperating, and clicks with him instantly. however, she ends up getting captured by hydra 

a/n: this has been something i’ve been working on for MONTHS now, and it’s the hardest I have ever worked on a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g (it’s over 7k !!!!!!) so please please leave a comment :-)

Kali- energetic, Sabra- patience, Baen- fair skinned (white rhino), Nuru- filled with light, Talib- one who seeks

Wakanda was a peaceful city, one that she had quickly defined as home when T’Chaka brought her here years ago. Adapting quickly, she had earned her place among the royal family as their animal keeper. While that didn’t sound like a fun job to most people (she thinks it’s because of the dung, which, if she was being honest, was her least favorite part), it was everything she could have dreamed of. For once in her life, she felt like she was wanted in a place where she felt like she belonged, and that was all she could have ever asked for.

For the most part, her job was incredible. The animals loved having her around, they loved that there was someone in Wakanda who could communicate with them, someone who could actually shift into them. Her ability to shapeshift was always something she hid from the outside world, but here in Wakanda, she used her powers to help. Which is why when Okoye came by her room, concerned that her rhino Nuru was being more sluggish than normal, she was concerned. The past month, a few of the rhinos had fallen ill from some unknown cause, and Sabra, one of the oldest rhino’s in Wakanda, had passed.

It was hard for everyone, as the animals in Wakanda were treated with such kindness compared to anywhere else she had been. There had been a proper burial, and most of Wakanda had attended to send her off like they would a real person.

Because of this, she had immediately taken Nuru out of his pen and went for a ride to his favorite pasture that was located just outside of Wakanda, hoping that it could cheer him up. It was dangerous taking one of her precious rhinos just out of city limits, but she figured he deserved some space to breathe.

As the grey animal bent over to chomp on the tall grass, she slid off his back and moved to lay on a flat rock next to him, soaking in the sun’s rays. Bending one arm back, she nestled her head onto the crook of her elbow, her other hand resting on her tummy. Her eyes settled closed, fully relaxed at the warmth radiating all around her. It was mostly quiet—albeit the crunching from Nuru’s lunch kept her from taking a much-needed nap. Choosing to rest her eyes instead, her mind wandered off. The past few weeks had been hard on everyone in Wakanda, even the animals. The outpouring of help they were giving to places in need was overwhelming, and they only had so many people to spare. When T’Challa declared Wakanda was opening its arms to the world, no one had anticipated how much help the world really needed from them.

A sudden flash of guilt tore through her as she remembered Killmonger. Although his methods had been fueled by hatred, he had the right idea, and she was glad T’Challa had recognized that.

Nuru grunted suddenly, and bent over her, licking a giant stripe up her face. Sputtering, she rolled off the rock and into the soft grass, wiping the thick coat of slime from her face. Although it was his way of saying thank you, she wished he would do something else; the slime was not the best facial in the world.

Patting his horn gently, she stood and chose to sit on the rock, on the lookout out for any more surprise saliva attacks. The rock was warm under her, and she was glad she had tugged on a pair of jean shorts this morning. Most of the time she felt a little out of place because she dressed differently than anyone else here, but she mostly kept to herself anyway. Shuri, T’Challa, and Okoye being the people she talks to most, although sometimes M’Baku would swing by to crack jokes (which if she was being honest, weren't funny, but he scared her enough to where she always laughed like her life depended on it).

A huffing noise caught her attention, and she looked to see Nuru rolling around in the cool dirt, kicking up a cloud of light brown dust. Folding her legs up so her chin was resting on her knees, she watched the large animal. After a few minutes, he seemed to grow tired, dragging his feet over to where she watched, concerned.

“What’s the problem today buddy?” She asked him. He responded within seconds, swinging his large head towards her and huffing once more. Being a shapeshifter was the main source of her pride, as it came in handy often in her line of work. The best thing about her powers was that she was able to communicate with any animal, even if she hadn’t shifted. It was hard to explain to anyone who asked, but words weren’t used by the animals when she was in her human form. Instead, it was like a reel of pictures on a roll in her mind, playing on a loop.

According to Nuru, princess Shuri had come by late last night to try a new set of vibranium armor on him and kept him up nearly all night trying to get it fitted. Shaking her head she laughed softly to herself, her fondness for the young girl outweighing any annoyance.  

After spending the rest of the afternoon in the field, she led him back inside the city and to where general Okoye was waiting to see if he was okay. The enormous grey animal slowed down to a trot, his large pink tongue lolling out of his mouth in a pant. Hair flying in all directions, she clicked her tongue, so he would slow his pace. When his trot gradually began to stop, she rubbed her fingers along the bumpy skin behind his ears. Okoye was watching from the wooden fence, her chin rested on her fist. Hiking her leg up and over the large back of the animal, she angled her body, so she was sitting sideways on the animal’s back. Tucking her legs under her, her gaze turned to her general.  

“How is he?” Okoye called up, curiosity in her eyes.

Okoye could never understand the bond that she shared with the animals, but she was glad that she had found her place among the Wakandan’s as their animal keeper. No one else was brave (or talented) enough to do it, not even Okoye herself. Meeting the general’s gaze, her lips quirked up in a smile, as Okoye was referring to the rhino who was currently distracted by a butterfly. She opened her mouth to explain, but then noticed the rhino’s ears flicking back for a second, warning her of another presence coming into the clearing. Sensing that it was Shuri, the three of them stayed where they were, amusement rolling from y/n in waves.

“Someone kept him up all night with trying new armor.” She called back, snickering at the sudden shout of protest from behind.

“There’s no time like the present to try my new inventions!” Shuri said from behind y/n.

Twisting around to make a snarky comment, her words faltered as her gaze was instead focused on the man standing next to her. She had seen his face somewhere before, but she wasn't exactly sure where. He was handsome, there was no doubt about it, but she was more intrigued by his pale blue eyes that were full of kindness and curiosity, but held a glimmer of something else, something akin to caution. His brown hair hit his shoulders, and part of it was tied back into a bun. He was nervous, that much was obvious, and for some odd reason she wanted to calm him. It confused her, how all she wanted to do was to ease this man’s tension. Switching her gaze to the girl, she slid off the rhino and walked towards the pair.

“And you had to do it while he was trying to sleep?” Shuri’s dark eyes sparkled as she shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to be too angry with me.” As if proving her point, Nuru made a snorting noise and flopped down, folding his large feet under his chest neatly while he rested his chin on the ground. He fell asleep within seconds, his large snores making her roll her eyes and giggle.  

“You really should leave the animals to rest.” She pointed out, facing her. Shuri just rolled her eyes and ignored what she said, instead motioning towards the stranger next to her.

“I wanted to introduce you to someone. This is Sergeant—er, Bucky Barnes. While I work on his arm, I wanted him to have something to do, and I thought you could be his mentor just until he is called back to New York...by Stark.” Shuri tacked the last sentence on quickly, knowing how excited she got about Tony Stark and his team of superhuman misfits.

“Stark? As in Tony Stark? You’re an Avenger?” She gasped, turning to face the strange man, excitement leaking into her tone. To say she was a fan of the Avengers would be a little bit of an understatement. Especially when she has a small (but very top secret) collection of action figures modeled after everyone on the team (except for two that she has yet to find; how stores didn’t have the figurines of Wanda Maximoff or Vision frustrated her to no end).

“Not necessarily.” Bucky muttered softly, a trace of remorse flashing through his eyes. Shuri quickly darted to the side and stepped on his foot, making him rub the back of his neck with his hand, the tips of his cheeks turning a light pink. Her eyes followed his movements, as Shuri’s words registered in her mind.  

Oh.

Upon noticing his missing appendage, she understood why he made that comment. Blinking at him, she tried not to let her jaw fall open in shock. “You were a part of the Howling Commandos.” Confusion and shock filled Bucky’s face, as people usually didn’t know him from the good things he’s done. “Yes ma’am.”

“Oh, I’m Y/N. I’m kind of a big fan of the origin stories of her team. But I know you don’t like to talk about…” Trailing off, she met his eyes as he winced.

There was a beat of silence, and she didn’t know what to say to rectify the situation.  

“Anyway,” Shuri’s gaze locked on her, and her eyebrows raised, trying to communicate something to her. Although she was an expert at reading animals, reading people was not her forte. Opening her mouth, she started to say something, but stopped when she heard a loud (and familiar) laugh, and then the small, high pitched sound of “uh-oh”. Turning around, the scene before her made her reach up to rub at her temples. One of the little boys from the city had unlocked an animal pen, and a rhino had raced out of the pen.

Unfortunately, it was Kali, one of the younger and more energetic rhinos.

“Oh my god,” she groaned, “C’mon Bucky, lemme show you what I do when this happens.” She looped her fingers through his wrist and tugged, waving to a giggling Shuri as they hurried towards the scene of the crime. Ignoring the helpless look he threw back at Shuri, she led him closer to the scene.

“What do we do?” He asked, wide eyes on Kali who was bucking and jumping around the open field like a horse. Kali was acting like he had never seen the light of day and she wanted to scoff; he was let out into the grassy fields more times a day than any other rhino. He was just being dramatic.

“I’m going to corner him, and as soon as we get into the pen, I need you to lock the fence back up again,” she explained, pointing to the metal lock on the gate with her free hand. Quickly realizing she had yet to let go of his wrist, she dropped it, ignoring the blush in her cheeks. Bucky nodded, and moved in the direction of the gate, seemingly unfazed by the interaction. After a few steps, he paused, turning to look at her, his brow creased in concern. “Are you putting herself in danger?” Giving him a wry smile, she backed up a few steps. “Just watch.” And she lunged forwards, closing her eyes while the wind flew through her hair, the picture of a rhino clear in her mind. Her feet flew against the ground, her body feeling light. As she bolted towards Kali, her footsteps became heavy, and suddenly her muscles and bones melded together into a new formation; a new form entirely.

Kali.

Aw come on! I just wanted to play.

I understand, but you know the rules.  

Yeah, yeah. Pretty dumb rules if you ask me.

She snorted at him, shaking her large head. Not my rules, but rules nonetheless. Go on back Kali, please.

Fine. Spoilsport.

His large body slowly ambled his way back into the gated area, grumbling all the way back.

Teenagers.

Okoye appeared next to her, an over-sized shirt in her hands. She set it on the ground, and then walked to a stunned Bucky, turning him around so she could shift back. The cracking of her bones made her wince, but it was over before she knew it. Shifting into a human was easier than shifting into anything else, as her human form was, well, human nature to her.

Wiggling her toes in the cool dirt, she smiled and threw the shirt over her naked body. Unfortunately, the shirt wasn’t as big as she thought, and only came down to her mid thigh. Shrugging to herself, she figured that it would be fine.

Bucky wished someone would have given him a warning about the half-naked girl standing in front of him. It was incredible, what she could do. Never before had he met someone who could take the shape of an animal, and it fascinated him. He was sure he looked like an idiot, standing there with his jaw completely slack. She reached around him with a human hand and clicked the gate lock into place, cheeks flaming. Clearing her throat, she rocked back on her heels. It had been a while since anyone new learned of what she could do, and she was never entirely sure how people would react. When she had first discovered her powers, her family had abandoned her, too afraid of what she was, and what she could do. Since then, she had always been wary of new people.  “So uh, that’s Kali. He’s the youngest rhino here, and his name actually means energetic, so that’s pretty accurate.” Nodding dumbly in response, Bucky just stared. After the initial shock wore off, Bucky was in awe. “What else can you shift into?”

Blinking slowly, she smiled. “What’s your favorite animal?”

+

She had spent the majority of the rest of the day shifting into different animals and teaching Bucky about her powers. He was wonderful company, and she couldn’t help but pout when Shuri stole him away to test something out. “You’ll get him tomorrow! Say goodnight kids.”

Laughing, Bucky bid her farewell, and she watched the two of them walk away.

T’Challa found her in her room a while after that, getting ready to tuck in for the night. He knocked on her door, sticking his head in the open doorway. “So I heard you met Barnes today.”

“Yeah, where have you guys been hiding him all this time?” She asked, only half-joking. Normally, when people like Bucky were brought into Wakanda, she was the first one to hear about it. Being keeper of the animals was an important task, so she liked to know who would be coming by.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you’re a big fan of Stark’s team, so you’re probably already aware of who he is?”

She nodded. “Yeah, Steve’s best friend.”

“He recently came out of cryo; yesterday actually. Shuri thinks that she found a way to completely eradicate the part of his brain that responds to the words that turn him into the Winter Soldier, so Steve sent him here. A few people here don’t think that it was a good idea, in case hydra comes looking for him, so I’m a little hesitant about setting him free in Wakanda, and I know he’s hesitant about it too.”

Which explains how nervous he was yesterday. “I’m guessing you want me to show him around, make him comfortable?”

“In a way, yes. I just wanted you to be aware of the situation, as I’m sure it came as a shock to you yesterday.”

“I mean, kind of? Honestly not too much shocks me anymore.” She replied, laughing a little. “But yeah, I’m fine with that! We got along well today, so it won’t be a problem at all.”

T’Challa shot a grateful look in her direction. “Thank you, really. You’ve been such a big help.” Before he left the room, he paused. “Bucky is a good man, and... you two would be cute together.”

The pillow that was next to her sailed through the air then, narrowly missing T’Challa’s head. Laughing, he held his hands up and darted out of the room as she scowled at him. “I don’t need relationship advice from you, Mr. I freeze whenever Nakia is around!” She yelled out after him.

+

The next morning, she was in the fields with a few of the goats, when all the animals turned in the direction behind her to look at something. Turning around, she shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand, and grinned when she realized it was Bucky that was walking towards her. As he neared, she noticed that he was in different clothes than he was in yesterday; jeans and a Rolling Stone’s t-shirt. His hair was also up in a bun, a piece of hair tucked behind his ear.

“How are you today?” He asked, smiling shyly at her.

“Can’t complain!” She said back, whistling at Abba, a small goat that was currently nibbling on Bucky’s pants. The baby goat butted his head against the back of Bucky’s leg, trying to get his attention. Blinking, Bucky looked down at the small creature, and then looked back at her nervously. “Go on, you can pet him! Abba’s sweet, he won’t hurt you.” Bucky swallowed and knelt down to the goat’s level. Hesitantly, he put his hand on the goat’s head, scratching gently. Abba plopped down then, pushing his head up into Bucky’s hand. The nervous look on Bucky’s face started to fade, and his eyes crinkled up with glee as Abba shimmied over to sit on his lap.

“Have you never pet a goat before?” She asked curiously, another goat running up to her to get her attention (needy little boys). Sitting across from Bucky, she stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her hands.

“No I have. I just…I get scared touching living creatures. I don’t want to accidentally hurt them, like…like I did before.” The light in his eyes faded by the end of the sentence, his jaw tightening. His hand paused on Abba’s head, causing the goat to nip at the man. Bucky’s eyes drifted down to the goat then, resuming scratching him.

“That makes sense. But Abba here loves you, so good luck getting rid of him.” She said, shaking her head.

Bucky looked towards her curiously, one eyebrow lifting. “Abba?”

“Yeah. I guess it means born on a Thursday or something, but between you and me? I think it’s because T’Challa loves Mamma Mia.” She giggled, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

“Mamma Mia?” Bucky asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. It dawned on her then that he probably hadn’t had time to sit down and watch a movie in literally ages. Which made her a little sad if she was being honest; he had been so removed from society that he had no clue about what trivial things like Mamma Mia he had missed.

“It’s this movie that was based on a musical that’s about this girl who’s getting married, but she doesn’t know who her real dad is, so…”

+

A few days later, y/n and Bucky were relaxing together in the grassy fields just outside of the city. “Is this your favorite place to be?” Bucky asked, sitting in front of her, cross-legged. He was picking blades of grass out of the ground and twisting them between his fingers, while she was pretending that her eyes were closed. Instead, whenever Bucky wasn’t looking at her, she’d peek at him, trying not to let him notice her gawking. Bucky was incredibly attractive, and in the past few days she’d developed a crush on the dark-haired man. He was such a mystery, but also the kindest man she had ever met. It was hard to believe that with a few words he could turn into an empty killing machine.  

Opening one eye to peek at him, she thought for a moment. “Yeah, I think it’s peaceful out here. I love the city, but I need to get away from the fast-paced hustle of it all. I think it’s funny how we can go from the Wakanda that we know, to the Wakanda the outside used to only know in a few steps.”

“I feel like this is the perfect place to relax. It’s…incredible. Thank you for taking me.”

She hummed. “Oh yeah, of course!”

He stood then, reaching above where she was sitting to pluck a white flower from the tree. Bucky crouched in front of her, looking nervous and twirling the flower in between his pointer finger and thumb. Slowly, he shuffled closer and stopped, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.  

Bucky was so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face, which made her heartrate increase tenfold. His hand reached out then, the back of his knuckles lightly brushing her cheek. She wanted to lean into his touch, but she didn’t want to spook him. He reminded her of a frightened deer; one wrong move and he’d bolt. Afraid to disturb him, she tried to reign in her breathing, but it was hard when her heartbeat was as erratic as it was. Tucking her hair behind her ear, he stuck the flower in gently, situating it just so, that it wouldn’t fall out. He sat back on his heels, smiling softly at his handiwork. “There.”

Swallowing, she blinked at him, feeling dazed. The entire time she had no idea what he was going to do, and it both thrilled and scared her. “Thank you.” She said quietly, suddenly shy. He just gazed at her, a completely fond look on his face.

It occurred to her then, that she might have skipped right on past crushing on him. Maybe Bucky Barnes already had complete ownership of her heart.

+

A week later, she was eating lunch at her kitchen table and scrolling through her phone, when it buzzed, signaling a text message. Opening it, she read the short text, nearly dropping her phone when the sentence registered in her mind. It was from Bucky, and while his texts normally made her grin like a lovesick fool at her phone, this text made her want to jump around.

steve is coming—will be here in 15

come meet him!!! !!!!!!!

Jumping out of her seat, she quickly packed a bag with clothes to change into, and shifted into a black panther, her favorite animal. Which—no, wasn’t because of T’Challa, she just liked the lithe animals. Bowing her head down, she picked up the strap of her backpack gingerly, holding it in her mouth as she raced to the visitors landing strip. Bucky was already there, talking to a familiar man in a navy-blue tactical suit.

Apparently, Steve grew a beard.  

It was weird, meeting Steve Rogers finally, after hearing stories and reading about him. For years she had been a fan of him, of what he’d done for the public. But in that time, he had been a legend to her; she never really thought she’d meet him. Slowing as she approached, she trotted towards Bucky, the backpack still swinging in her jaws. He noticed her then, a grin forming on his face. “Okay so why aren’t you the Black Panther?” Bucky asked jokingly.

She just rolled her eyes and huffed as she plopped down next to him. Bringing her paw up to her face, she cleaned the dirt off before stepping behind a bush to change into her human form and into a fresh change of clothes. It took all of sixty seconds, and then she was in front of Steve-freaking-Rogers.

“Welcome to Wakanda!” She squeaked out, scratching the back of her neck in embarrassment.

“Ah, so you’re the girl I’ve been hearing so much about! It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She looked at Bucky, tilting her head in confusion when his cheeks reddened. Coughing awkwardly, he clapped Steve on the shoulder. “Alrighty, why don’t I show you around?”

+

A month after Steve had come and gone, Bucky found y/n in her kitchen, bursting through her front door. “I got my arm!” He nearly yelled out, his face lighting up with joy. She looked up from where she was eating breakfast, her eyes widening as she jumped out of her seat and raced towards him, nearly tripping on her shoes in the process.

“Bucky! It’s beautiful, really.” She exclaimed, running her fingers lightly over the dark vibranium. It was almost all black but had gold detailing within it, making it sparkle in the slice of sunlight through her window.  

“You think so?” Bucky asked, examining it.

“Of course,” she said softly, soothing the nerves he felt. Looking up at him, she asked, “How do you feel?”

“It’s...weird, to have a metal arm again. But this one doesn't have lost lives carved into the grooves, so, it's a better start.”

Happiness radiated from every pore on her body. Bucky had been through so many horrible things, and now his life was starting to turn around. Smiling so wide her cheeks began to ache, she grabbed both of his hands in hers, humming. Her cheeks burned, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the man in front of her. “Let’s dance!” A wistful look appeared on his face, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, his hand flat against the small of her back. The two of them began to waltz, and she was impressed with his dance skills. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to suggest that they dance, but she went along with it.

“Steve and I used to go out dancing, back when…”

“Back when you had the attention of all the...what did you call them? Oh! Dames. I bet you had every one of them wrapped around that finger of yours, Mr. Barnes.”

“C’mon, I told you to call me Bucky.” He whined, spinning her around.

“I like teasing you, old man.” Bucky rolled his eyes in response, laughing. He suddenly pulled her close into his chest, holding her. From her position, she could feel his heart thrumming steadily against his chest, although hers was no different. She turned her head, pushing her cheek into the soft fabric of his shirt.

He smelled like grass and wood-smoke, and she swore it was the scent of Adonis himself.

“I’m not very good at this anymore.” He said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“I used to be good at charming girls.” At that, she tilted her head back and saw an extremely nervous and vulnerable look on his face. His eyes darted around the room, avoiding looking at her. “But I’m not that ladies’ man anymore, so this is...difficult for me.”

“Bucky Barnes, are you trying to seduce me?”

His cheeks flamed, which made her giggle. “I’m just kidding Buck. You are such a kind man, and anyone would be a fool to not want you.”

“Even knowing about my past?”

“The past is the past. Everyone has some sort of baggage, but, since I can change into an octopus, I have more than enough arms to hold it all.” With that, Bucky leaned down, tilting his head towards her face. She leaned up on her tiptoes then, tilting her face upwards. Before she could press her lips against his, her door burst open.

 Okoye and a few other guards ran towards them both, breaking the intimate moment. They looked alarmed, and a weird feeling began creeping up her spine. Horrified, she looked at Okoye and Bucky, one hand covering her mouth. “The animals!” With that, she raced out of the house, Bucky and Okoye hot on her heels. “We are going to the border! There are thieves trying to break into the city.” Okoye shouted after her, but y/n didn’t respond, panic sitting on her chest. When she got to where the animal pens were, she slid to a stop. There was a group of six poachers standing between the animals and the exit, blocking them from fleeing. Shifting quickly into a black panther, she stood between the group of poachers and a crowded group of animals.

 Run! She tried to yell at the animals, panic washing through her. Bucky and everyone were at the opposite end of Wakanda, fighting off thieves at the border, and she cursed herself for not asking Bucky to accompany her to the pens. It must have been some kind of distraction, she decided, her eyes darting around at the chaotic scene unfolding before her. She swore she’d protect the animals against poachers, and she watched in terror as some of her friends were tossed into cages. The poachers only wanted the animals that would bring them the most income. Ivory went like gold, and she could only pray that they didn't find Baen, the only albino elephant in existence.

Two men suddenly stood over her, grinning like sadistic clowns. A glowing rope showed in her peripheral vision, and she tried to shift into a different animal before they tied her down. Although, she wasn’t too worried, as rope couldn’t really withstand the strength of almost any animal she shifted into. Barely flinching as the ropes descended upon her, she was suddenly met with a bad situation. As soon as the ropes touched her, she hissed, shrinking back as terror filled her veins. This wasn’t normal rope. Desperately, she tried to center her thoughts, so she could shift, but it was like there was a heavy block in her mind, stopping her from changing. After multiple attempts to change into various animals, her mind ran over the thought of shifting back into a human. Nothing could stop her from doing that as it was her true form, therefore the form she would be able to hold no matter what.

But, shifting into a human was out of the question in this situation. It would take all of her energy, plus it would leave her naked and defenseless against these strange men. This time, hopelessness seized her veins. No one knew that the real fight was back here, no one would know where she’d gone when they came back. Looking around frantically for any sign of being able to escape, her eyes met a glowing pair of yellow eyes, hidden in the spindly branches of a tree. It was Talib, a cheetah cub she had rescued last year.

As soon as we leave, find Okoye and Bucky. Alert T’Challa as well!

I'm scared. Please, come back safe. The animal shrunk back, concealed in the dark.

“Throw her in the back of the truck.” The poacher called to one of his henchmen, causing her to roll around under the ropes to get them off of her, even if it burned. If she was captured—she refused to think of everything they would do to her. But she soon discovered the longer the ropes were pressed against her, the weaker she felt. The thudding of her heart seemed to grow to a dull roar in her ears, and her paws collapsed under her, causing the side of her shoulder to hit the ground. White spots began to appear in her line of vision, and she could only lie there, limp, as two men lifted her and tossed her into the bed of a truck. Her head hit the truck bed with a thud, and everything went black.

+

Blinking blearily, she picked her head up off the cool concrete. She had no idea where she was or how long she’d been gone. All she knew is that there were at least ten animals that had been captured along with her, and she was in a lab of some sort. But it wasn’t a normal lab; instead, it looked like some illegal underground business.

She was in a lot more trouble than she originally thought.

+

Bucky’s heart broke as soon as he stood in front of the cage in the middle of the room. She was laying on the bottom of a metal cage, her eyes glazed over. Crouching down, he stuck two of his fingers through the metal of the cage to stroke the black fur on her head. Letting out a strangled purr, she shifted her head closer to his reach.

Once the cheetah cub had reached Bucky and everyone else, the thieves had evaporated into thin air. Like they were never there to begin with. Bucky knew the cub’s name was Talib but they had no way of communicating with him, as none of them knew how to speak his language. So, they had to come up with a new way to figure out what the hell was going on. Talib, on the other hand, needed them to follow him, so he did the only thing he could think of. Latching on to Bucky’s pant leg, he tugged, his legs scrabbling backwards in the dirt. Pausing to yip at him, Talib kept yanking in the direction that they had been taken from. After a few seconds of this, Bucky realized he was trying to show them something, so he followed. Talib stopped once they were near the animal pens, tire tracks leading away from Wakanda.

“We got everyone out, okay? Everyone is okay.” Bucky told her, knowing that was what she was most worried about.

Although y/n knew Bucky was a safe zone, she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. The cage was reinforced with whatever material had been making her weak, and she honestly had no more fight left in her. The only indication she gave him that she was listening, was the flick of her black ears as he explained that they got all the other animals out to safety. Relief flooded her weakened body. As long as everyone else got out okay, that was all that mattered to her in this moment.

His hushed voice broke her train of thought. “M’gonna get you out of here okay?” 

She gave no response. The cage was partly made out of vibranium; there was no way she was getting out, no matter how hard Bucky tried. Hours ago, she had decidedly given up on the hope of escaping. These goons were so much smarter than she had originally given them credit for, and she couldn't help but wonder if they had specifically targeted her, or if it was luck of the draw. But there was no other way they could have known what she was if they hadn’t been targeting her. Whatever it was, she supposed didn’t matter now. They had successfully done what they had set out to do, kidnap her. Although a dreadful thought pricked at the back of her mind; they weren’t finished with her yet.

Taking a few steps back, Bucky ran at the cage full force, his newly made metal shoulder clanging against the metal of the cage. She wasn’t surprised when nothing happened.  

Picking up on a new noise, her ears pricked up and swiveled, trying to determine what the noise was. The achingly familiar sound of boots against the concrete flooring made her heart drop.

Oh no.

Using the little strength she had left, she stood on shaky legs and began meowing in panic, trying to alert him of the incoming danger. Reaching her big black paw through the cage, she swiped at him, frustrated that the message wasn't going through.

He didn't understand her, and the only way he was going to understand her was if she was a human. But, if she was to use her remaining energy to shift back into a human, she wouldn’t be able to shift anymore because of the cage. And she would be completely helpless when the men arrived. But they’d kill Bucky the second they found him here, and—Bucky didn’t deserve to die when he was trying so hard to make amends.

Making a quick decision, she stood in the center of the cage, focusing everything left in her to shift. The change was swift, but it severely hindered her senses. Naked and shivering, tears of fear began to fill up her eyes. The adrenaline racing through her blood helped her shift back to warn him, but the second she was crouched in the cage as herself, her body collapsed. Pain rolled in waves throughout her body, making her hunch over, her muscles spasming.

“Leave.” She pleaded, placing her sweaty palm against the bars of the cage.

“I’m not just going to leave you here—”

“They’re coming! I’m begging you, I’m not worth getting killed over.” Bucky opened his mouth in protest but thought better of it. He would be of better use to her if he wasn’t dead. His gaze never left hers as he backed up and ducked behind a stack of cardboard boxes, but once he was out of sight, he quickly sent out a quick text to T’Challa and everyone else, alerting them of the situation.

When the men arrived back in the room, they set to work immediately, moving y/n in the cage to an operating table, locking the cage tightly down on the metal of the table. Bucky was relieved that they didn’t try anything with her; he wasn’t sure if he could sit back and watch that. But then, something akin to terror lodged in his throat at the sound of something disturbingly familiar.

The whirring of a machine.

Bucky’s eyes peeked through a small gap in between a few boxes and saw a devious looking metal machine. The emblem of a red skull that had six tentacles. 

Hydra.

Bucky’s stomach lurched as he watched from behind the stacks of boxes, pleading with whatever God was up there that his friends found them quickly.

The machine got louder, the whirring making her whimper out, suddenly afraid for her life. The pointy part of the machine started to glow, making her grit her teeth as little shocks came from it, burning her skin. The shocks prevented her movement and distracted her from realizing what was happening. Four glass panels fell around the sides of her cage, while a tubing that was attached to the machine started pumping the cage full of some mysterious gas.  

Within seconds, she was screaming in agony, the gas giving her some sort of reaction. Her eyes closed, and the screaming ceased, the sudden silence eerie. From Bucky’s position, he could see everything. The second her eyes snapped open again, he leaned over and silently wretched. Instead of her normal color, her eyes were glowing green. But the part that made him violently ill, was the look on her face. The look of utter emptiness; the look of humanity lost.

He knew this look all too well from days locked up with the broken glass shard for a mirror.

The metal bars retracted down into some part of the table, while the glass box still remained. “Shift.” One of the men commanded. She obeyed immediately, not even flinching as her naked body swiftly stretched into her favorite and most used form; the black panther. Of course her black panther form had nothing against T’Challa’s vibranium suit, but the look of her empty eyes made a chill travel down Bucky’s spine; it was terrifying.

The group of men started to collectively mumble, while the same man ordered her to shift again. But this time, she stayed in the same form, which seemed to anger the man. He shoved the glass box on the ground, and Bucky blanched as he watched it crash to the ground; glass shattering and sliding all over the concrete floor. Her lithe body hit the floor with a thud, and he flinched, shoving his fist in his mouth to stop from crying out. Thankfully, she got up and shook herself off. The men left her behind then, slamming the door shut behind them.  

As soon as the door clicked shut, Bucky was scrambling towards the cage, his black boots crunching on the shards of glass. Nearing her, Bucky slowed, crouching to the ground and holding his hands up in front of him. She paced around in a circle, tail flicking back and forth anxiously. His gaze traveled down to her paws, worried that she had glass shards in them. He knew from experience that whatever shit they put in her mind would block whatever physical or emotional pain until it wore off.

Flicking his eyes back up to hers, he bit the inside of his cheek, anxious. Gone was the gentle kindness in her eyes that Bucky had grown to love, and in its place was pure hatred. She let out a growl and bared her teeth at him in warning, but he refused to leave her side. “Please come back to me doll, please.” He begged, his voice cracking. She just glared, her hackles rising slowly.

The door squeaked back open, and Bucky shot a glance in the direction of the door, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw T’Challa and Okoye step into the room. “Over here.” He mumbled, raising his hand to flag them both down. “I don’t know how to get her back.” Bucky said, blinking back tears.

“What helps you come back?” Okoye asked, stepping over a large piece of glass to get closer. Instead of answering, Bucky started talking to y/n, trying to get her to hear a familiar voice. “Hey, remember the first day that we met? And Kali got out of his cage? I swear that I fell in love with you the second you wrapped your hand around my wrist and tugged.” y/n let out a low whine, as her hackles fell back down. Her eyes flicked from green to their normal color a few times, much to Bucky’s relief. “C’mon babe, fight it. I know you can do it.” She flashed between fur and skin at least three different times but managed to fight her way back to her human form, sobbing from the amount of effort. “Bucky, I’m so sorry.” She heaved out, her body shaking.

“Oh God, Doll,” he sobbed, clutching her to his chest. Okoye and T’Challa stood behind him, concerned looks on both of their faces. “You two need to leave, now. We’ll handle the goons.”

Bucky nodded, lifting her in his arms. She looked terrified, and Bucky’s heart clenched painfully. Standing up, he quickly left the basement, focused solely on getting them both out of there alive. It didn’t take long for him to exit the building, his legs taking them both back to the safety of the city, where Shuri was already waiting in the lab.

“Put her here.” She said solemnly, standing near something that looked like a hospital bed. Bucky did as he was told, and then collapsed in the chair next to the bed, emotionally and physically exhausted. y/n, on the other hand, sunk into the bed, hiccupping softly. Flashing to a few different animals, Bucky sat up quickly as tremors rolled through her body. “What’s going on?” He asked, alarmed.

 “She’s just scared. When a shape-shifter is in an anxiety inducing situation, their body will go through a few different physical changes until they’ve calmed down.” Shuri didn’t seem too pressed about it, so Bucky tried to relax, his eyes never leaving y/n’s. After a few minutes, she switched back into her human form, her trembling reduced greatly. “Fuck it.” Bucky mumbled, climbing into bed with her. She whimpered and pressed her face into his chest, curling into his side. “I love you, and I’m never going to let this happen to you again.” He mumbled into her hair, pressing soothing kisses all over her face. He breathed out a sigh while y/n just gripped him harder, nuzzling into him. She fell asleep moments later, the trembling ceasing immediately.

Terrified of taking his eyes off of her, Bucky stayed awake all night, his arms caging themselves around her. He vowed then, to protect her no matter the cost.