#special skill!! having fever brain from just being tired!!!

[mostlyvoidpartiallyjims]

Tummy hurt incident, hundreds dead, thousands more fatality injured

[secondhand-trash]

Decadence

A/N: I felt a sudden dash of inspiration at 2am and this is the result lmao

Descrption: Fushiguro Toji was like a cat, came and went as he pleased. It never really provided you with a reason to let him back in each time, yet it had become a habit of yours to leave a window for him in the times he was away. 

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x reader

Warning: slightly suggestive, if you are reading a toji fic I’m just going to assume you have read the manga, smoking, mentions of drinking, not exactly a happy piece of writing 

Word count: 2620

Playlist:

Cigarettes//Russian Red

-

Sometimes you just laid there and stared at the ceiling after you woke up, the tender rhythm of your breathing echoing back to you through your eardrums reminding you that you were still alive no matter how much it didn’t felt that way.

They said there’s a weight to your soul, but right now you just felt nothing.

There was a special type of letting yourself go called waking up when the sun was shining bright outside, the blinding shine breaking through your cheap curtains. You had just woken up but you wanted to go back to sleep again, yet the heaviness in your head almost alluring to what having a fever felt like forced your eyes awake. 

You had no choice, or rather, no motivation to do anything but stay put right where you were, on the thin mattress that you took from the previous tenant who lived next door (”What?” you clicked your tongue at the above you man who paused as he slammed your back down on the bed, it was not comfortable and he most definitely felt that one spring stabbing at his knee, “it’s free.”). There was a stain at the corner of your tiny room, probably because the kitchen fan forcefully installed on the wall was not doing its job. The greasiness lingered in the air every time you tried to cook anything, making you sick in the stomach when you buried your face on your pillow that was just a few steps away from your stove. 

You gave up cooking soon entirely, it was not like there was anyone you could eat with anyways.

Fushiguro Toji came and went as he pleased, showing up at your door with a few cans of beer and a pack of cigarette whenever he was in the mood like he did not disappear without a word after the last time you saw him.

You didn’t ask where he had been or where was he before he was here at your place, you knew this was why he always came back to you. 

Just like how you never asked him, or yourself for that matter, whether any of this meant a thing.

“Don’t smoke here,” you said with your arms crossed in front of your chest, your back to the door as he tilted his frame to pass through your doorframe that seemed ridiculously small with him under it, “took me days to get rid of the smell last time.”

Sometimes he came every few days, mostly you would see him waiting under the lamp post at the corner of your block every other week. There was one time when you did not see him for a good few years. You were certain he had died, he had business enough people for it to not be a surprise to anyone. You could not say a word when you came back and saw him crouching in front of your door with an unlit cigarette between his teeth, toying the lighter in his palm. He was staring ahead but not focusing on anything, looking so out of place in the middle of the thin corridor of your apartment building.

It was also the one and only time you had felt the urge to ask him if he was okay, you refrained.

instead, you gave his frame a push with your heel. He did not budge, like you did nothing but gave him a tap on his shoulder and looked up. “You look like shit, Zenin.”

Where have you been? You swallowed the words that were so close to the tip of your tongue back down to your stomach together with the knot at the back of your throat.

He only shook his head as he stood up, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and took a breath that would have been a drag. “No,” you had no idea what had gotten into him, “Fushiguro.”

He did not sleep with you that night, but you did let him smoke in your tiny little flat.

To this day, you still had no idea what made him show up at your door again.

“Hm,” you were not sure if he was really answering you when he slummed down at the foot of your mattress. It was a talent how he acted like he had never left, like this was his spot as he leaned back with one palm holding him up and cracking a can of beer open with another. You always had a fascination with how easy he made it look, one crock of his index finger and you could hear the foam rushing out, “you want one?”

The smashed cans were still laying on the small table at the corner of your room. It was your dining table, writing desk and bedside table all at once, you hoped you did not spill anything on it last night. The half-gone pack of cigarettes was next to your bed, the joints sliding off of each other in the stack it was in. 

There was an ashtray next to it and it was really just a centerpiece when Toji was not here. You had refused to get one for the longest time, but gave in after you realised the only difference it would make was that the burnt out tobacco would be in your kitchen sink or somewhere it should be. The one he had lit up when he finally crawled off of your tired body begrudgingly was roughly put out on the glass, bent into half and somewhat intact.

Shamefully, you did not have nearly as much distaste for his addiction as much as you protested it. You could not deny that it was a picture when he leaned against the only window in your flat, his back to you in all his glory as the spark lit up and cast a warm glow to your ceiling. He sounded calm when he took the first drag, a soft hum following the inhale as white smoke blended into the dark of the Tokyo sky. It was never really quiet out there, and sometimes you would hear the cars running by the highway at a distance or the people with a home they refused to return to shouting down the streets. All with the swirls coming out of his lips, his shoulder easing down slowly with each puff.

Sometimes you wondered if you should be like the girls you saw in films, reaching out for the brooding man looking out their window and ask them to come back to bed sweetly. Perhaps you should act more lovable, like someone that would giggle into their lover’s chest when they did come back with a gruff.

The thought made your skin crawl, and you turned to your side until you could not see his frame before poking your tongue out in disgust.

That was not the way things worked with you two.

You had no idea what time it was but you guessed that it could not be early. The shadow that cut diagonally on the wall had already gotten defined, the sharp black border moving slowly across the oxidized wallpaper. Occasionally, in midst of the silence, you could it each time a train drove in and out of the station. The railway being near your apartment was the only thing good about it, but it also meant that each click on the tracks pounded into your ear like piles driving into your brain.

Tuk. Tuk. Tuk.

The room was starting to feel stuffy and hot, the body next to yours on your crowded mattress did not help at all. Toji usually left first thing in the morning, either that or he would not stay the night at all. You could not remember when was the last time you woke up next to him, but it was almost always followed by a long period of him being out of your sight. The thin blanket felt tiny trying to cover his large frame, the fabric pulled taut with you refusing to give up on it. It was your blanket on your bed in your house, who was he to hog it? 

You felt the temptation to reach out and trace the faded cut slashed down his lips with them parted just slightly, a rare serenity on his face. His lashes were long, that was another thing you had picked up on as you just watched. You could imagine him to be a beautiful man, before the scares and the scrawl and the smell of smoke lingering in his breath.

Fushiguro Toji was like a cat, came and went as he pleased. It never really provided you with a reason to let him back in each time, yet it had become a habit of yours to leave a window for him in the times he was away. Do not ask where he had been, the only thing you would get is your own reflection in his eyes. He was not your cat, never. You doubted that strays could truly adapt to domesticity.

Or rather, you never had the guts to see what would happen if you trap them down.

Instead, you watched, watched as the cat elegantly yawned and stretched its limbs out like the tyrant it was.

The blanket slid off his chest when he moved, showing you the many scars littering all over his skin. Scratches did nothing compared to all the other ones that darted over his frame like badges, you gave up trying to leave a trace anywhere on him a long time ago. One hook of your leg around his waist caught his attention and he yanked you by the arm to place you on his chest, not forgetting to slide his palm down your waist under he was cupping the swell of your hips.

‘Tsk’, you wanted to snicker, ‘skillful.’

“You wanna fuck again?” he quirked one eyebrow up, his tone sounding more like a question than an invite by any means.

“Huh...” the nasal in your voice was apparent as you laid your head on his firm muscles. 

And it was not like you had never wanted to make him stay past the few moments he was with you in the rare hours of daylight you spent together, you were just certain things would get messy whether he did as you asked or not.

Afternoons in bed were lazy, slow, sticky and hard to peel your hands away.

That just wasn’t what this was supposed to be.

“Don’t you have anywhere to be?” you asked, as always.

“I do, actually.” 

You lifted your head to look at him in, “But the horse races are not open today.”

He gave your ass a slap, and you gasped before trying to hit him back.

“Surprise, surprise, I’m working again,” the corner of his lips tugged up into a lazy smirk at your irritation, “someone contacted me, I’m going to see what they are offering today.”

You blinked.

“Are you taking it?” you asked, carefully.

He shrugged, before giving where he smacked down a condescending pat before sliding you off of him. 

“Who knows,” he rolled his arms back, the defined edges of his biceps flexing as he cracked his neck, “depends on how much they are paying me.”

So he would be gone for god knows how long again, lovely. You gave yourself a subtle nod of acknowledgement at how you saw this coming. 

He strode to the side to pick up his clothes that were littered across the floor, and your gaze followed him as he went to your table last.

If he was just a regular man you happened to bring home, you would roll your eyes at him for not at least shoving the beer cans into the trash as he took his shirt from the pile.

You tucked your arm under your pillow as you watched his fingers took one out of the box swiftly, feeling your body sink down the ill-quality mattress.

It was always at this point that the rush to ask him to stay would surface. But you would never try to do that, obviously.

‘When will I see you again?’ you were almost tempted to ask when he had one hand on the doorknob, but you weren’t sure if this was something he could give you an answer to.

So you said what you always say when he was about to disappear from your life again, with a smile as you bury your face deeper into your pillow.

“Try not to die.”

-

There was a daunting feeling that this was it. 

But again, the thought always plagued you during these blank periods.

Something at the back of your head told you that something went wrong. Maybe he died, you savoured the taste of these words on your tongue as you laid flat on your bed. After all, no one could say it was a surprise if he truly got killed on the job out there. He never really told you too much about what he did for a living. You figured out the gambling part on your own, and the scars on his skin warned you against asking further. 

Your relationship, if there ever was one, relied heavily on neither of you caring about each other enough to want to know more than the way he liked you to take his shirt off for him and the spot behind your ear was sensitive. There was a moment when you wondered if you had, or ever was in love with Fushiguro Toji. Back when he was still Zenin Toji, or when you felt the drop of your heart as he casually told you the change in his family name. 

It would be a travesty if you did.

The pack of cigarettes he forgot to take with him was still laying exactly where he left it, together with the lighter that was tugged into the cap. You had never smoked, one thing that he always made fun of you for. You did not like the smell and could barely imagine what it tasted like. 

You only liked it when you were the one watching him do it.

The tiny stick felt strange on between the pads of your finger, and you awkwardly mimicked the way you had seen him do it all these times. A forceful shove of the window sent a current of wind into your flat, the breeze tickling your cheek as you let your head fell back and took a deep breath.

Like someone waiting for their cat to come home.

Your body hung out of the window with one arm on the frame. The lighter did not work until the third click, and you stared as the end of the cigarette slowly started to glow under the flame.

The pungent smell made you furrow your eyebrows together and you clicked your tongue. The sun was starting to sink in a distance and the white smoke was all the more visible under the bright orange sun. You lifted your hand up to the sun, and tipped it like you would at a toast.

This was for you.

One inhale sent you coughing, and your eyes teared up at the unfamiliar sting at the back of your throat.

“Fucking hell,” you hissed, slamming down on the window frame as you sucked in a deep breath to wash the feeling away.

If he ever showed up again, you thought to yourself as you violently put off the cigarette on the ashtray, you were definitely questioning him what was so good about this.

-

You did not see him for a long, long time after that.

[asterroidd]

cotton sweatshirt

↬  College AU

↬  Pairing: Levi Ackerman/Reader

↬  Word count: 2.6k

↬  Synopsis:  Fatigue was slowly consuming you, luckily your roommate is there to save the day

↬  Notes: Thank you so much for the request anon! I apologize it took so long before I wrote it. Anw, I hope you enjoy it!

↬  no proofread whatsoever, capn’

5th and 12th prompts: “Give me back my keys! I’m fine!” and “Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

    It was too much. All too much; the endless tasks, the studying, and numerous all-nighters that you had pulled by now.

    It was so taxing that your body couldn't keep up; eyes blood shot red from restless staring at the laptop screen, sunken cheeks due to the insufficient meal you are getting, and dark bags under your eyes that are evidently visible even from afar. If one would see you in such a state, one would assume you are a zombie or the living dead.

    Chewing your bottom lip, fingers anxiously taped against the wooden desk. Drained yes boring into the laptop screen as you tried your best to understand the text displayed in it. Your professor just had to be missing in action that week due to health reasons and as such couldn't attend most of the classroom session to teach. The replacement is just as worse—having no mastery over the lesson at hand that it only made it more confusing than before. So, you had to self-study for the sole sake of having a passing grade this semester. Finals weeks is looming around the corner and it's best that you understands the lessons beforehand so that you wouldn't have difficulty in studying once again later on.

    Your study session was supposed to be done before noon, yet here you are still hunched over the desk. A pencil at hand in attempt to take notes in the filler notebook. Your other hand curled up a fist full of hair, then ever so often tugging it in frustration. True, you did try to search online for other readings and videos that could potentially help you in your dilemma. Alas, you find yourself scratching your scalp and pulling your hair in frustration as you failed, yet again, to grasp the concept of the topic.

    Perhaps a book, you thought to yourself. There is a local library nearby—suppose a ten minute walk, could be even seven if you walked fast enough. For sure there are a handful of books there that could finally help you in understanding the lesson. And so with a drained sigh, you closed the lid of the laptop and stood up.

    You took in your surroundings; which was an utter mess. Eraser shards littered on top of your desk that some even fell to the floor due to you hastily sweeping them off. Mountains of books scattered around—some opened with a random item on top to act as a makeshift paper weight. Sticky notes plastered all over the walls and stacks upon stacks of paper everywhere. In short, your room looks like a battleground.

     Which it is; an academic battleground, that is.

    That said, you swiftly stuffed a handful of notebooks and pens into a small backpack so you could continue the study session at the library. Perhaps a change in environment would ease you off and clear your mind. When you exited from your room, you were surprised to see Levi lounging off the living room. A bowl of popcorn on his lap whilst lazily popping one in his mouth every so often. His eyes glued to the TV screen as it played a series, The Confession Tapes you presumed. Ever since you showed him the first episode a few days ago, he was so intrigued and thus became so hook with the story line.

    Oh, to have freedom and time for leisure activities like Levi. You would willingly kill just to have that.

    "I'll be heading off to the library for a while," you uttered under your breath. Levi turned his head towards your direction, slowly munching on the popcorn. "I might come home late so I'll bring the keys with me."

    He paused the movie momentarily to narrow his eyes at you. Levi looked at you from top to bottom, assessing and processing the current state you are in. Which was hell. You looked like a vampire that crawled out of your coffin after decades of isolation. Of all the years he and you had been roommate, Levi had practically memorised most of your mannerism and behaviour so much. And at the moment, he knew all to well that you would be, yet again, working yourself to the grave.

    With a sigh, Levi placed the bowl of popcorn on top of the coffee table before approaching you. "Can't you see yourself, idiot?"

    You scrunched up your nose in confusion. What does he mean by that?

    "When was the last time you ate?"

    You racked your brain for answers. When was it truly that last time you had a proper meal besides energy bars that you bought from the convenience store. You went silent for a moment, eyes cascading down.

    "I had instant noodles I think? Last night," you answered after a pregnant pause.

    "Then that means you have not eaten anything since this morning?"

    You only nodded in response, all too tired to argue back with him. All you wanted to do was to finally leave the apartment and resume your study session in the library. Where, in hopes, you could finally progress in.

    Levi clicked his tongue. No wonder you look like a living dead. You are barely getting any nutrition in your body at all! Being studious is a great thing—but being all too unforgiving and torturing one's body too much is an unacceptable habit.

    As swift as a fox, he snagged the keys from your hands. You, in your drained state, reacted poorly and sluggishly. Though, you gave him one ferocious glare.

    "Give it back, Levi." You held out your hand.

    "No. You should rest. You look like shit."

    "Give me back my keys. I'm fine!"

    Levi, much to your surprise, had a hint of worry in his eyes. Silence fell between you and him, eyes focused on each other. You thought of kicking him on the shin, then took the chance to grab the keys. But you find yourself unable to as your body slowly slumped over.

    You let out one tired sigh, eyes closing every now and then in drowsiness, but you can't give in. Not now. Not at least you'd finally understand and finish writing your notes. Still, exams is a couple of weeks away. Surely a brief break wouldn't hurt?

   You groaned, the floor beneath your feet swaying as you struggled to keep yourself upright. It was only then did you notice the ever growing itch in your throat which signifies tonsillitis, mucus flooding your nasal passages, and increased body temperature.

     "I'm fine. . ." you inhaled sharply. "Just—" you continued but was caught short when your knees buckled under your weight, causing you to lean forward. Luckily enough, Levi caught you just in the nick of time before you fell face first into the wooden floor.

     "Tch. Look at what you got yourself into," he huffed, palm pressing against your forehead. "You also have a fever, dumbass."

    Did you now? You let your head rest into his touch, relishing his cool touch against your flushed ones. Maybe you really need a rest.

   "How about you take a seat on the couch while I brew you a cup of tea?"

    "Sounds good. . ." you uttered under your breath.

    That said, Levi practically dragged your body towards the couch and helped you settle on it. Making sure that you are comfortable enough by placing pillows behind your head. The male crouched down to your level, bringing a hand up once again to your forehead to properly estimate your temperature this time.

    "Looks like a bad one. . ." he muttered.

    "You tell me. I feel like shit," you've managed to crack a joke despite your conditions. Levi rose his brow at you, shaking his head at your idiocy. Then you watched him as he removed his cotton sweatshirt that hung loosely on his figure. Suffice to say, you were beyond perplexed when Levi placed the article of clothing on top of your lap.

    "You're cold aren't you?" he shrugged his shoulders. "Wear that for the time being to keep you warm."

    That said, he soon disappeared inside the kitchen to perhaps brew you a cup of tea much to your delight. It is practically known that the male had an immense skill in brewing and perfecting the art of tea. And as his roommate, Levi practically forced you to learn how to brew yourself; mainly because he doesn't want you wasting precious tea leaves that are far too expensive to be wasted. You recalled the time spent with him, hours upon hours inside the kitchen while trying your best to not burn your hands as you, yet again, try to perfect boiling tea. Levi stood beside you, a scowl present on his face as he frowned at your blend.

    Do it again, he snarled. The temperature is not right.

    It was little moments such as those reminds you of how much of a stuck up bitch Levi is. Nonetheless, the male still have a special place in your heart as your roommate and perhaps crush.

    Gingerly holding his sweater in your hands, you took one deep whiff of his scent—despite mucus flooding your nose—relishing the soft floral scent of the detergent that he bought about a week ago. Yet, Levi's natural aroma gradually overflows your nasal cavity; refreshing and clean with a hint of musky scent. It was pure heaven.

    Blood rushed to your cheeks as you let his sweatshirt hug your body, encompassing you more with his scent. Truth to be told, it was your long time dream to wear one of Levi's clothing. Suppose it was the thought of you in his clothes that brings butterflies to your stomachs, or the pure concept of his smell flooding your senses. Either way, you liked it.

    "Hey. . ." Levi's voice boomed which slightly startled you. The male placed a mug full of tea on the coffee table before kneeling down and opening a pack of fever patch.

    "What flavor did you brew?" you mumbled.

    "Chamomile," Levi replied, brushing your hair away from your forehead. For a brief moment, he stopped to stare at your glossy eyes due to the fever. Small patches of sweat that peppered your skin that glistened slightly under the light. Not to mention your lips that he oh so long to get a taste of for months—but he wouldn't tell you that out loud. Red dusted his cheeks ever so lightly that you would've missed if it weren't for your keen attention to detail.

    Levi bit the insides of his cheeks, slapping himself internally to focus at the task at hand which it to place a fever patch on your forehead. That said, he carefully set it against your temples. Making sure that it is adhered on firmly as to not fall in case you tossed and turn in your sleep. A smile adorned your features as soon as the cool hydrogel rested against your skin. You mumbled a quick gratitude towards the male before snuggling deep into his sweatshirt.

    "Levi. . ." you started to which he hummed in response, helping you sit up. Then, the male gave you the mug with hot tea. Its heavenly aroma making you sigh in relax. "Come sit with me?" you asked, patting the space next to you.

    The male opened his mouth to argue; to refuse your request because he doesn't want to catch your germs and be sick himself. Though, with one look at your puppy-dog eyes and pouting lips, Levi knew that he wouldn't be able to resist you. "Fine. . ." he begrudgingly replied.

    You let out a small cheer of victory. Placing your head on top of his shoulder the minute he sat beside you. Even for just a moment—just for this day—you want to delve into your fantasies and revel in the company of the male. Levi looked at you from the corner of his eye, admiring how his sweatshirt that embraces your form. Due to him being quite short in stature, his clothes were not too big. So, naturally, most of his wardrobe would probably fit you. Which he has no complaints about.

    "Can we watch Kitchen nightmares?" you asked, taking one small sip of tea as to not burn your tongue.

    Levi shrugged, "Why not?" That said, he adhered to your request. Playing that one episode in the series that he knew you enjoyed watching despite the countless times you've already seen it.

    You relaxed back into the couch, letting more of your weight press against Levi as your hands cupped the warm mug in between. The brutal and fierce howls of criticism of Gordon Ramsey brings a small smile to your lips, and oddly enough, as well as Levi's. Watching Kitchen's Nightmares (as well as other shows that the iconic chef starred in) was a guilty pleasure, so to say, of both yours and the male's. There is just something so satisfying how the chef makes people humble down and admit their mistakes.

    One great thing that comes from watching his series was that Levi could learn a thing or two in cooking. Even though he was already great from the start. The male picks up a recipe or two just by watching the series, much to your satisfaction. Between you and Levi, he is the mother of the household, if you will. While you're just one lazy couch potato who would receive an ear full of scolding every now and then.

    Soon enough, you felt your eyelids closing involuntarily, yet you fought to keep them open. It was getting into the good part—the climax—of the episode and you didn't want to sleep through it. Though, you find yourself giving in and finally letting your eyes rest for once. You exhaled, rubbing your cheeks against Levi's shoulder blades in attempts to get more comfortable. The male shifted on the couch, allowing you to be cozy and warm with him beside you.

    In your dazed state, you swore that Levi slowly rest his head on top of yours. Nevertheless, you couldn't conclude if it was true since the sweet embrace of sleep consumed you. For the first time in that week, you finally had a good night's rest.

    Levi relaxed under your touch, finally relieved that you gave in and let your body get the rest it deserves after days upon days of continuous work. He contemplated whether to turn off the television so that the noise wouldn't bother you in your sleep, or keep it open since a part of him wants to finish the episode. Though, his thoughts were caught short when you murmured.

    "Levi. . ." you mumbled in your sleep, hands gripping his sweatshirt.

    "What?" he humored, despite knowing that you are in deep slumber and is probably sleep-talking.

    Then to his surprise, you whispered a phrase that he never anticipated would slip past your lips.

    "I love you. . ."

    He was taken a back, eyes wide while his mouth slightly hung open. Levi blinked once, then twice, trying to process if what he heard was real or was his imagination deceiving him.

    "Did you know you talk in your sleep?" Levi said, testing to see if you were truly asleep or was just toying with him. When he concluded that you were—in fact—knocked out and catching some Z's, he breathed lowly the three words he oh so wanted to tell you for months.

    "I love you, too. Brat." He snaked his hand around yours, intertwining his fingers around your hand.

    Little did Levi know, you were half-awake during his confession.

[itskateak]

Mint Ice Cream & Bubblegum Kisses - Chapter Eleven

Chapter Summary: Bucky's healing quickly, but still has his rough days. Y/N and Angelica are trying to help with his cabin fever.

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Gay Pining, Minor Injury Description

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I was out of state for the first part of June, and then I had some things to take care of...basically, the last couple of months have been really busy. Chronic pain that caused brain fog, job interviews, work, getting my wisdom teeth yoinked...to name a few of the things that have happened.

I accepted requests to get the ball rolling into writing again. Special thanks to my best friend, Keirsten, for yelling at me periodically to finish this. As @raspberryyuuki​ said, she's a saint. In which her response was: "Worship me, peasants." The dramatic hoe. 

Taglist is open! PM me, send an ask, or @ me on a chapter to let me know you’d like to be tagged! Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you, but I will send you a message with a link to the new chapter when I update. :)

Masterlist

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Bucky stared at the wall of the recovery room. It had been a week since he'd been injured and he was starting to get impatient. After a couple of days, he'd been released to his own room. But he had to check in with Bruce at least once a day for him to monitor how his injuries were healing. He didn't mind, since it kept Steve from worrying over him for five minutes. It was a weird switch from the century before where he worried over Steve constantly.

"Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. Scott and Peter Q. are both in and out constantly for injuries. I had to check Peter's arm one last time before the Guardians picked him up." Bruce opened the door, a tablet in the crook of his elbow. "How're you feeling today?"

"Still tired. But that's the serum working." Bucky smiled and shrugged slightly. He winced, his shoulder hurting with the movement. "My leg's stopped hurting, though."

"That's great. I still need to check it over, though. Just in case." Bruce pulled his glasses down from the top of his head. "You know the drill by now. Knee?"

"No longer hurts. I didn't limp or feel weak when I walked down here." Bucky swung his right leg slightly as if to prove his statement. Yesterday, he'd had to use the wall to walk properly and before that, he'd been using a cane. Which made him the subject of old man jokes from Tony. But he knew that was Tony's way of being relieved and happy he's still kicking.

"Shoulder? Arm?" Bruce typed in his response with one hand, barely looking at the screen. It was a skill he seemed to have picked up over time while recording observations and results from experiments. 

"Shoulder still hurts like a bitch sometimes. As long as I keep it steady, it's okay. I don't think it'll take much longer to heal if I'm honest. Arm is tender in some places but I can pick things up now." He flexed his fingers slightly, brows furrowing as a shock of pain traveled up his arm. "Work in progress, though."

"I can see that. I'll give it another couple of days before we start physical therapy. You can do some small exercises if you feel up to it." He set the tablet on the bed next to Bucky and held his hands out. "May I?"

Bucky tentatively laid his arm in Bruce's hands. It was still a little strange that Bruce asked his consent to treat him. But it was nice of him. He winced as the doctor gently felt up his forearm. He spoke as he did it, talking in terms that Bucky didn't really understand. His tablet was recording it as he worked so he didn't need to type.

"The breaks have healed nicely and I can't feel any weakness. The serum really helped you out with that." Bruce moved further up to feel his shoulder.

"Least it's good for somethin'." He muttered, resting his hand on his thigh. 

"It kept you alive. Without it, I really don't think you would've survived, to be honest." Bruce glanced up at him with a shy smile. When they first met, Bruce was always very quiet and timid. That hadn't changed, but now Bucky knew it was just his personality rather than him. He'd been afraid that Bruce was terrified of him until Natasha said that's how he always was. And Bucky understood exactly why that was. "For that, we're all grateful."

"If you weren't in the position to hurt me, I'd punch your shoulder for that. Lightly, of course. No need to break you."  Bucky offered him a lopsided smile. "How's it looking?"

"Good, luckily. It slid back into place during surgery really easily. The nerves that were pinched are still recovering which is why it hurts. Give it another day of rest and you should be good." Bruce stepped back and took his tablet back up. "Have all your cuts and bruises healed up?"

"As far as I've seen. The one on my right side is still working." 

"Are you still dressing it?" Bruce asked, glancing up as he wrote the report. 

"Yep. It was a nasty cut but it doesn't hurt anymore. And the concussion's gone, right?" 

"Yeah. That was gone by the time you woke up, though you were a little delirious still. How's the metal arm?" Bruce nodded to say he was finished with the examination.

"I have to get Tony to look at it. It's been glitching and I was even shocked awake the other night. Gotta get it removed and fixed." Bucky got to his feet and pulled the sling's strap back over his shoulder. "Thanks, Bruce. I'll let you get back to work."

"No problem. If you need anything, don't be afraid to ask." Bruce smiled genuinely and with a small wave, he was out the door.

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Angelica laid on the couch upside down, her head hanging off the seat. She had her feet kicked up on the back, Switch held in her hands. She was humming a Disney song as she played her game.

"You're gonna give yourself a headache if you keep doin' that," Bucky called from the doorway.

"I've been here for an hour. I'm fine." Angelica responded, turning her head to flash a smile at him. "What'd Bruce have to say? Is it thermal?"

"Terminal, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Yep. I've got five seconds left." Bucky winced and clutched at his chest like he was having a heart attack. She giggled at him, which made him drop the act quickly and grin. "I'm fine. Still sore in some places. Bruises, scratches, and bumps are healing fine."

"That's good." Angelica sat up and shuffled to kneel on the couch. She set her Switch aside and gave him a soft smile. "You really scared Papa. I...haven't seen him that upset since my mom left."

Bucky tilted his head with a furrowed brow. He stiffly walked to the couch, sitting next to her. He'd never talked with Y/N about it other than the day they first went out on the trail behind the compound. If he wanted to talk about it, he'd come to him. But to hear Angelica say that? It surprised him. "What do you mean?"

"Papa doesn't know...that I remember the day my mom left us. I was super young." She tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing down at her lap. 

"You were two, right?"

"Two and a half. It's my earliest memory. She packed her suitcase and wrote a note. Left me with Miss Irene, our neighbor, and...and left us." Angelica wrapped her arms around herself, a small frown pulling at her lips. "Papa came home later and found the note. Came and got me. I didn't know what was happenin' but I knew it wasn't good."

"Did you read the note?" Bucky asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He was recalling his conversation with her father and the concerns he'd had about her feeling out of place.

"Not on purpose. I found it when I was five. Never told him...I remember the first night on our own. Heard him crying in his room and I couldn't just let him be alone." Angelica played with the end of her sleeve, eyes glued to the crack in the couch. 

"You get your big heart from your father. I know he was worried...it was a scary situation." He took her hand and squeezed it. "He told me you helped distract him and keep calm while I was in surgery."

Angelica smiled and snickered. "Yeah, he was just pacing outside the operating room and I decided that he needed to help me build my farms like he promised."

"He's lucky to have you as his daughter. You're a good kid." Bucky couldn't help the grin that tugged on his lips. She was such a sweetheart and made his heart melt. 

"It's not your fault, but you really scared him." Angelica bit the inside of her lip, her brows pulling together. "Like, really scared him."

"And what about you?" Bucky asked softly, recognizing the signs that she was fighting back tears. 

"I guess...I guess you really scared me, too." She admitted, face crumpling. He pulled her hand gently and tugged her into his lap, hugging her tightly. She sniffed and wrapped her arms around his body, burying her face into his shoulder. 

"It's okay. I'm okay." Bucky let her quietly cry against him, concerned for a moment because she was pressed into his left shoulder. It couldn't have been very comfortable, but she didn't seem to mind as she tightened her hold on his shirt. "Take the time you need. I'll just be here."

"Good." She mumbled before sitting back. She looked him very seriously in the eye with her tear-stained face. "Don't you ever do that again."

"I won't. I promise." He used his sleeve to dry her face gently as she calmed down. "What were you playing?"

"Minecraft," Angelica said, brushing her hair back out of her face. It had stuck to her skin in the places that were wet before Bucky wiped it away. 

"I've never really seen anything from the game," He admitted. 

"D'you wanna see my house?" She asked, perking up suddenly.

"I'd love to." Bucky smiled as she reached over and grabbed her switch. She shifted to lean back against him so he could watch over her shoulder. "Give me the grand tour."

"Okay! So, here's the outside. Papa helped me make it." Angelica started, moving her character around to show him everything. "And here's the entrance..."

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"Hey, Y/N? Can you help me?" Bucky knocked on the intel specialist's office door. He got a signal to wait while Y/N finished his phone call. "Ah, sorry."

He wandered in and sat on the couch, opting to slide his phone from his pocket to occupy himself. He fumbled a bit as he tried to back out of a tab. Using one hand to navigate through his phone was difficult. 

"Alright, thank you. I'll be in touch! Buh-bye." Y/N hung up and turned to Bucky. "Sorry about that. What do you need?"

"I...it's kind of embarrassing but..." Bucky set his phone down and grimaced. "Everyone's out at the moment and I haven't eaten anything since breakfast...can't exactly cook with one arm."

"Oh! Yeah, it's about time for me to take my lunch break, anyway. I can totally make some food for you." He stood and swiped his phone from the desk. "Tony has your arm, I presume?"

"Yeah. He stole it while I was sleeping. The jerk." Bucky joked, standing with him. "It's been having issues lately. Glitching and twitching. Shocking me occasionally. Not exactly fun."

"Ouch, sounds like it. It's good that you're getting it fixed. Can't have you in pain." He gently clapped Bucky's shoulder to avoid hurting him. "How's everything else feeling?"

"Good, oddly enough. I'm going to start physical therapy this afternoon just to make sure things return to their normal strength." Bucky said, keeping pace with the intel specialist. He was a bit shorter than him so he walked a little slower so Y/N didn't have to speed walk to keep up. "Bruce says I won't need it for my leg other than to double-check it's alright but my arm will definitely need it. Minor nerve damage, he said, that needs help to heal."

Y/N was silent for a moment, eyes falling to the ground. He chewed on his bottom lip, head turned away from Bucky slightly. Like he couldn't bear to look at his friend. 

"You still feel guilty, don't you?" He asked quietly, placing his hand on Y/N's shoulder. "I know nothing I say will change your mind. I can't convince you."

"Yeah...I know I shouldn't be, but I still...have moments." Y/N admitted, still struggling to look him in the eye.

"Y/N, stop. Look at me." Bucky lifted his chin gently, waiting for him to meet his eyes. Once he did, he gave him a soft smile. "I'm okay. I'm healing and will be okay. It's okay to feel guilty and yet know that it's not your fault. You understand?"

"I understand." Y/N nodded slightly and Bucky swore the skin under his hand was warmer than before. But he didn't pay much attention to it. He was more focused on the look in his eyes. The fading guilt and the smile taking over. "Thanks...I needed that."

"No problem. Think of it as a way to repay the times you've done the same thing for me." Bucky returned the smile and dropped his hand back to his side. "Your daughter was showing me the things you built in...Minecraft, was it? You're quite the designer."

"I'm not. I just look things up and either copy photos or watch tutorials." Y/N shrugged, sheepishly ducking his head. "Doesn't take much talent for that kind of thing."

"I don't know about that. Steve can look at a photo and sketch it fairly damn close to the original. It takes some skill to do that kind of thing. The art of copying is a talent in and of itself." Bucky said, gesturing with his head for Y/N to follow.

"Steve went to school for art. And he's a prodigy for that kind of thing." Y/N insisted.

"Oh my god, why are you making it so hard for me to compliment you?" Bucky sighed in exasperation and shook his head. "Just accept the damn compliment!"

"Okay, fine! Fine! Thank you!" Y/N laughed and finally relented. "I accept the compliment but begrudgingly."

"Well, fine, then! See if I ever compliment you again." Bucky tried to cross his arms but that fell through when he remembered that he was missing one arm. He tried to play it off but it was obvious what he'd tried to do.

Y/N noticed and started to laugh again. "I'll...make it up to you...with lunch." He said between giggles.

"We'll see about that."

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"I have the popcorn!" Peter shouted, running into the living room with a large bowl filled to the brim with steaming popcorn. "Let's do this!"

Bucky chuckled and slid his phone into his pocket. He moved over to allow room for the spiderling on the couch. 

Y/N handed drinks to each person before taking his spot next to Bucky. He took the remote and started up the streaming service, moving between options to find the film they were planning to start. Well, the first in the series. It was a marathon night of at least two of the movies. He cued up Curse of the Black Pearl.

"Everyone ready? Comfortable?" He asked, glancing at his companions beside him. Angelica was sandwiched between Bucky and Peter, a blanket thrown over everyone as much as possible. He was able to fit nicely between the arm of the couch and Bucky, seeing how the super soldier was still missing his arm.

"Yep!" Angelica shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth and curled up in excitement. 

"Alright. Here we go." Y/N pressed play and leaned forward to set the remote down. The screen faded and the music started up. 

He settled back and took a sip of his drink. This was one of his favorite movies both in terms of plot and music. For a brief moment in college, he'd studied film scoring as a way to relieve the stress of his other classes. Hans Zimmer had quickly become one of his favorite composers in that time. Watching the Pirates series always put him in a good mood.

Angelica grinned and sent a knowing glance toward her father. He could probably say the whole franchise, word for word, in exact time with everyone else. She was certain he could even master the Jack Sparrow accent with enough practice.

Bucky was immediately enthralled and Y/N fought back a smile as he glanced over occasionally to gauge his reaction. He was completely and totally captured by the film. It was nice to see him back to his old self after the injuries, despite his still missing arm. 

He mouthed some of the lines, mimicking expressions and head tilts as he checked his phone. He was planning a sleepover with Angelica and Madison. Lillian had just gotten off work and was able to respond to him.

"Just how many times have you seen this film to be able to match lines and actions without even looking?" Bucky teased, glancing between Y/N and the screen.

"Many times. I did my final on this film for a film scoring class I took in high school. I watched it a lot. At least once every day. Usually multiple scenes over and over." Y/N explained, shrugging. "It was my downtime project between analysis and studying."

"What'd you get on it?" 

"One-hundred. And then some. Ten points as extra credit for detail and the video addition of analysis through musical representation. Basically, I played a few measures of The Medallion Calls and talked through what made it effective in the scenes used." Y/N chuckled. His professor had been greatly impressed by his dedication and detail. "Okay, now shh. We can talk more between films."

Bucky smiled and shook his head, turning back to watch the cave confrontation. He was fascinated by the effects and the choreography. The fight was entertaining and unique to other films he'd recently watched. The comedy was perfectly timed and as opposed to other films, it wasn't visually dark. He struggled sometimes with films that were super dark and hard to see.

The movie continued, Barbossa's death coming and going. Jack's hanging was interrupted and he was saved. Y/N could quietly be heard imitating Jack and saying his lines through the escape scene. It was an incredibly good imitation, one rehearsed over years of practice.

The credits rolled as Angelica stretched her legs out. She'd spent the whole movie curled up against Pete. She slid out from under the blanket and reached for the empty bowl of popcorn.

"Do we need more?" She asked.

"I think so. Pete, go help her." Y/N said before watching the two kids bound off into the kitchen. He leaned forward and picked up the remote, cueing the next film. "I think I only have the attention span to watch one more before I should head to bed."

"I agree with that sentiment. We can watch the next two tomorrow night." Bucky yawned, slumping against the back of the couch. "Or next three. There's a fifth one, right?"

"Yeah, but it honestly sucks so I'm not watching it with you." Y/N grimaced. "The fourth isn't too bad on its own but really has no connection to the first three. But the music is incredible. If it had been out when doing my final project, I would've done it on that film's score. The mix of Hans Zimmer's work and the Spanish guitarists - I forget their names, sorry - creates a gorgeous and unforgettable soundtrack."

"You sound like me when I talk about space. It's always great to listen to someone talk about things they're interested in." Bucky turned to look at him with a smile. 

"It really is. Seeing them light up and get excited." Y/N glanced at the kitchen doorway. "It's why I've always encouraged Angelica."

"It's good that you do. I did the same with Steve when we were young." Bucky laughed as the kids came running in with a new bowl of popcorn. 

"Next movie!" Angelica cried, flopping down into her spot with a grin.

"Okay, okay. Dead Man's Chest is starting. If you're not in your seat, then that's too bad."

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Bucky pulled at the bandage with his teeth and groaned in frustration. He let it go and sighed, running his hand over his face. Of course, the wound he needed to keep dressed for a little while longer was on his right side and he was unable to use his right hand to do it. He picked up his phone and navigated as best as he could. 

Bucky: Hey, can you come help me? I can't quite get this bandage wrapped right.

Y/N: I'll be there in just a second. 

Bucky set his phone aside and stared dejectedly at his left shoulder. Tony really needed to give him his arm back soon. Well, Shuri did. The damage done was bad enough that Tony couldn't fix it. The internal mechanisms were too advanced for him to rewire - and he readily admitted that - and shipped it off to its designer. 

He hated relying on people so much. It made him feel helpless and like a burden. No matter how many times they reassured him, he still wanted to do things on his own. It made him laugh at the irony of it all. Steve was the exact same way back in the 40s. A knock on his door startled him and he turned.

"Come in." He called.

Y/N entered, shutting the door quietly behind him. "That cut still hasn't healed completely?" 

"No, not entirely. It's taking its time, that's for sure." He turned and glared at his shoulder like he was looking through it. "I'm just struggling with the bandage. I was able to do everything else, though."

Y/N kneeled on the bed behind him. He chuckled and laid his hand gently against Bucky's back. "No, you really didn't. I'm going to redo this so you don't get an infection."

"Did I really do that bad of a job?" Bucky ran his hand through his hair, decidedly keeping his gaze on the floor.

"No, it's not too bad. It can just be done better. It would be suitable if you had no other choice." Y/N's touch was gentle as he unwrapped the bandages. He set them aside and took the wet washcloth sitting near the first-aid materials. Carefully, he wiped the antiseptic gel away from his skin and the cut. Bucky hissed. "Sorry, sorry. This might sting a bit."

"It's alright." Bucky gripped the edge of the bed, making sure to keep his arm far enough away from his body for Y/N to work. "Do what you need to. I've certainly been through worse."

"Bucky..." Y/N sounded sad as he paused in his work. The numerous scars he could see proved what Bucky had said. Sometimes he wondered which were from the war and which were from Hydra. Some were probably one and the same. He traced a finger over one of the more prominent ones on his back, expression falling. "I'm sorry."

"I told you that you have nothing to be sorry about." Bucky flashed him a half-hearted smile over his shoulder. "What happened that day was not your fault."

"No, not for that. For...for...I don't know why I'm apologizing for this. I'm sorry for everything you've gone through." Y/N lightly followed another scar, pausing at its end. "You didn't deserve it."

Bucky's eyes widened as he stared at the floor. His breath was caught in his throat. He'd heard those words from many people and they never had this effect on him. Maybe it was because it was Y/N. Maybe it was because he sounded on the verge of tears. But something was different and made him choke up himself.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make this sad." Y/N chuckled and he wiped at his face to hide the few tears that had fallen. He sniffed and returned to cleaning the wound. He reapplied the ointment carefully before laying gauze over it. "Hold the bandage here, please."

Bucky did as asked, moving when needed as Y/N wrapped the bandage around his ribs. The silence between them was comfortable as he continued to wind the cloth around until he ran out. 

"Is that too tight?" 

"No, that's perfect. Thank you so much." Bucky turned and found he was much closer to Y/N than he realized. He froze, nearly nose-to-nose with him, and held his breath. 

"No problem," Y/N said quietly and Bucky couldn't help but glance down at his lips as he did. If he just leaned in a few more inches...wait, what was he thinking? He shouldn't be thinking about this right now or ever. Y/N was a friend and a coworker and nothing more. And that wouldn't change. 

Right?

Bucky's eyes shifted up again, meeting Y/N's. The silence suddenly became thick like it could be cut with a knife. Time froze around them and he felt himself start to lean in despite every thought telling him not to. 

Y/N tilted his head slightly, eyes flickered downward, and shifted forward as well. He stopped, though, bringing his eyes back to Bucky's. There was a moment of quiet as his hand came up, fingers brushing Bucky's cheekbone lightly. 

Bucky wet his lips and leaned into the touch. This was happening, wasn't it? His breath was caught in his throat and he didn't dare try to push anything any further. Please, please meet me halfway, Y/N.

"I..." Y/N started, barely above a whisper. "I should go."

Disappointment filled Bucky's chest and he sat back. Maybe it was just his imagination or his desperate hope that Y/N would've kissed him. "Uh, yeah...thank you, again."

"Anytime." Y/N stood with a smile. "Sleep well, Buck."

"You, too, Y/N." Bucky returned it and waved slightly as he closed the door.

Y/N leaned against the door and breathed out a shaky sigh. He covered his face with his hands, feeling the warmth in his cheeks. He'd almost kissed Bucky...what was he thinking? He wasn't. That was the problem.

"Get yourself together, Y/N." He whispered before heading off to his own room for the night. 

Behind his door, Bucky fell back on his bed and hid his face in the crook of his elbow. He felt like a schoolboy with a crush. And that's all it was. Just a crush.

If only he could convince himself that.

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[gagmebucky]

His face dips into your shoulder and neck, lips skimming along the slope until he’s brushing your ear. “Just. . . just for added clarity, this isn’t a dream?” He’s genuinely asking, sotto voce and breathy in his wanting disbelief, but never breaking his menacing pace. “This isn’t one of my daily wet dreams about you, and I really have your soft little pussy underneath my fingers right now?”

in which you and steve share the bed. (includes agent!reader x avenger!steve rogers, masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, mild voyeur!bucky.)

do not repost.

—

Though you haven’t thought about it—at least, not before now—you don’t have a nightly routine. Other than the basics, a shower and tying your hair back in a protective style, you’re underneath the covers and it’s lights out. You don’t require anything special nor do you partake in miscellaneous habits.

You like to think that, as a trained operative, you’re grown to be adaptable in the other aspects of your life. The missions, constant moving around and shifting settings, settling down easily is a good skill to have. But there is one thing, which is your occasional insomnia, typically punctuated with a sudden upheaval of arousal. 

It’s just your luck that the hotblooded urge attacks you in the current situation—in the arms of a coworker, several feet shy of another coworker. (A part of you giggles that it’s because you’re in his arms that it’s hitting you and not that it was simply inevitable.)

The job is your run-of-the-mill observe and report but the target you’re gunning for is in the bigger leagues therefore you’re accompanied by two super soldiers who have experience with this particular enemy. But the location has a huge event in the area, and the mission was somewhat out of the blue so all the hotels were booked up. Except for this one, and it only has one room available with two queen beds. 

Agent Barnes, ever the charmer, passed out on the first before you and Agent Rogers even finished checking the place out. And Steve, ever the gentleman, insisted you take the bed and he was fine with the couch. But, you, you and your I’m-totally-cool-and-I-don’t-have-a-crush-on-you facade waved him off, assuring you’re both adults and capable of sleeping in the same bed.

The problem, you now realize, is that while you are an adult and you should be able to sleep soundly next to a coworker-slash-friend, you aren’t. Your libido, it seems, wants to spite you because the second you think you’re tired and ready to succumb to unconsciousness next to the six-foot blond, she awakens. 

Preferring to wash up last, you walked out the bathroom to find that he squished himself on one side. Which you had fondly rolled your eyes at, slipping beneath the duvet then gently tugging his broad mass over. In his sleepy state, he followed your direction seamlessly, and somehow, you two ended up tangled together. 

In the first hour, your mind drifted to very inappropriate places, depraved recollections of those videos you like to watch with one hand down your pants then more personal—but nonetheless perverted—scenarios, authored by you and starring the man beside you. 

The second hour, you registered your amoral thoughts and vehemently worked on denying any further musings as well as the intense throbbing in your nether regions. You hoped to dissuade your feelings with other topics like how you’ll handle the mission tomorrow, and the economical and sociopolitical impact of human Shrek—really, anything not the way he’s nuzzled into you, or the places that could lead.

Right now, well into the third sleepless hour, you’re recognizing how fucked you are (God, you wish you were getting fucked for real). Because you’re so horny it hurts, and there’s no possible way you can sleep until it’s been quelled, and though you’d love to sneak into the bathroom to do the deed—it’ll take you five, ten minutes top—you can’t when Steve is dead asleep and holding you so tight: which, simultaneously, is stroking the fire. Pun intended.

His body coils around yours like a second skin, defined muscular cushion felt through your and his loose shirt, his a tank while yours a tee. He’s a radiator amid an air conditioned room and sheets that aren’t the best insulators. A strong forearm is braced across your partially turned hips, long legs stretched and intertwined with yours.

Quiet breaths inhale and exhale your nape, the tip of his nose nestled against the first ridge of your spine. There’s the intermittent adjustment,  where he snuggles closer, brushing his impossibly soft lips over that spot, mumbling something like, “Don’t. . . don’t go. N - nng, stay,” when you try to slither out of bed, cementing his subconscious grip on you.   

All things considered, you don’t mind it truthfully. In fact, he’s incredibly comfortable, and that those little twitches in his slumber are incredibly cute. You just wish your center would let it be wholesome, and not twist it into something salacious. 

You ponder your options: continue to lie awake until morning, or—or, masturbate there. The position is good, really good for it, now that you think about it. 

You’re halfway on your stomach, one knee hiked high, spread, while the other stretches downward; the corresponding arm is free, though the other is tucked beneath a pillow. 

It wouldn’t take but one movement to sink your hand between that prime spot and satisfy yourself. And, yes, Bucky is snoring with his face aimed toward you, meaning if his eyes flutter open, he might make out what you’re doing in the darkness. 

But, at this point, your need has outweighed your potential embarrassment. 

Your teeth run over your lower lip then you move carefully. With your free wrist, you sink below and flush between your hips, placing the joint of your straightened elbow against his arm. And that contact while you’re doing it should put you on, seriously underline the indecency of your act. 

It doesn’t though. If you’re being honest, there’s a visceral thrill in doing something like this: beneath the nose of two powerful and handsome men, the more vanilla of the duo whose arms you’re in. Your mind echoes something about professionalism but it’s drowned out by a flood of sensations via your fingertips. 

“O - oh,” you whisper inaudibly. The position is good, better than you expected—it’s fucking ace,  you realize, shifting your weight into your fingers, rubbing two of them against your bare clit. You bury your face into the pillow, hoping to muffle your reaction to the relief beginning to course through your veins. 

You’ve always preferred to lay on your back, and to use a silicone helper. (On cases by yourself, or cases where superiors aren’t paired with you, you bring one—a vibe, a pretty color that packs enough of a punch.) But this, right here, oh, it really works. 

Your muscles strain, and your toes curl in their respective positions. That wild throbbing has spiraled into a full-bodied fever, and it’s reaching a fever pitch. You press yourself harder into the pillow, biting down so nothing can escape because here it c— 

“Nng-nng,” Steve’s groan rumbles behind you, a louder uttering than the times before, and your body turns to ice. Rustling, you can feel his long lashes fluttering against the back of your neck, eyebrows furrowing. “Hey.” The grip anchored across your waist tightens, and he breathes in: and your stomach clenches because he has to know, even when he continues groggily, “What are you - what’re you doing?”

“I—” You don’t know what you were going to say but it falls short when he moves. 

His arm lifts so he can follow yours, hands ghosting along until he reaches that spot. He sinks in with you where you’re hot and dripping, and a small choking sound escapes you at the feeling of his rough pads.

It’s then you manage a rasped, “C - can’t sleep.”

“Oh,” he says then his smile tickles your nape, swiping two passes over your slick button, and your moan widens his smile. “Then need some help?”

 Your brain may have short-circuited but you nod, jerky as it may be. “Y - yes,” you speak with a sharp gasp. “That - that would be n - nice.”

Turns out, Captain America is not as vanilla as you previously thought because he doesn’t hesitate to dig right in. His index and ring finger part your sex for his middle to hone in on your clit. Then he’s abusing it in rapid circles that besiege your nerves with stimulation. 

You aren’t expecting him to be so skilled, passionate off the brake of sleep. A high moan tears from your lips, followed by a series of squeaks and whimpers in a lame attempt to quiet yourself. Your body jolts, and your hips careen into his onslaught, encouraging that pressure in your belly. 

His face dips into your shoulder and neck, lips skimming along the slope until he’s brushing your ear. “Just. . . just for added clarity, this isn’t a dream?” He’s genuinely asking, sotto voce and breathy in his wanting disbelief, but never breaking his pace. “This isn’t one of my daily wet dreams about you, and I really have your soft little pussy underneath my fingers right now?” 

“Not - not a dream, Steve!” you gasp, outright writhing into his palm. The fingers you had on yourself are now clawing at the sheets while your frame shakes. “Definitely not a dream.” 

“And those pretty sounds are because of me?” he wonders, a raggedness to his voice that’s mimicked in his merciless fingers. “These f - fucking whimpers and moans you’re makin’. . . trying to muffle so Bucky won’t hear are for me?” 

“God, yes,” you choke, squeezing your eyes shut because his best friend is snoring softly, and you don’t know how but you just know that he’ll know if he awakens now. You rationalize that the embarrassment will be less so long as you don’t see whether his gaze flickers open—which there is a high probability of happening since you’re doing a shit job at being discreet.  

“Okay, good,” he exhales before his teeth latch onto the vulnerable part of your neck, tongue lulling out to soothe the sting, and your entirety is  bucking into him, calling out for the remedy only he has. “Oh, shit - shit. You’re soft—sweet Jesus—you’re soft. I didn’t think someone could be this soft—fuck.”

You swear to God he’s doing his hardest to have you wake up his counterpart because his words are gasoline to a glowing blue fire. His name is a desperate cry on the tip of your tongue, and you’re trying to hold back but between his husky baritone in your ear and swirling caress, it’s becoming impossible. 

“And God, you’re really . . . you’re drenching my fingers and the sheets. How long - how long were you touching yourself in my arms before I woke up? ‘Cause fucking hell, honey.” There’s this almost feral guttural groan he makes on the petname, and it rattles between your thighs.  

“S - Steve—“ you warble, half-whimpered; you’re crossed in warning him about your lack of control and moaning his praise.

“I knew I smelled something sweet, and it’s you. You. You’re sweet, so sweet—“ 

And that’s it. The volcano explodes, and you come crumbling into his hand. In more ways than one because thankfully, he knows you’re going to scream his name and the arm propped beneath the pillow slides under and around to clamp over your vibrating mouth. 

It’s pure euphoria pumping through your blood, lasting far longer than you could have ever caused on your own, possessing you in sporadic tremors until you slump in his arms. Panting, your muscles relax, and he reaffirms his grip on you more comfortably. 

When the stars dissipate and you think you’ve regained your sense, you force yourself to face him because the mortification wants to rear its head, never mind your now sleepy state. Despite the darkness, you can discern some of his handsome features, and it comforts you. 

“T - thanks,” you murmur; you aren’t sure what to say. 

“No, no,” he murmurs back, and his crystal blue eyes are raking over your face. “Thank you. The pleasure was mine. Next time, don’t hesitate to ask ‘cause I - I’ve been thinkin’ about that—thinking about you for awhile now.”

The admission graces a smile on your lips, and you wiggle closer, leaning forward to seal the deal while he does the same. Before you can, however, a voice breaks through the moment: 

“Well, I hope you’re both happy because I’m awake and I’m hard now.”

[mikaalyssa]

Shows/movies to stream if you’re learning French (Netflix USA)

**I’m not any type of expert. If you have different methods that have helped you, please share!**

I took French all throughout high school and minored in it in college. I’d consider myself intermediate, but my skills have definitely plateaued and I’m trying to make a conscious effort to improve.

I went through some titles that caught my eye. Currently, they’re available to stream in the US (may be true for other countries, but can’t guarantee!). Most of the results looked horror/thriller and I don’t go for that genre, but there’s a lot out there if that’s for you!

I typically watch all content with subtitles, even English. But for the sake of learning I recommend keeping them OFF for two reasons:

Reading and listening and two different things. Difficult to improve your listening brain if you’re relying on reading!

Subtitles are not always exact and may conflict with what’s being said vs. helping you hear it. 

That being said, if your vocab isn’t very good, you might not understand even half without subtitles. That’s actually okay, too! At least try without subtitles first, then turn them on for the rewatch (so make sure to pick something quick and worth rewatching). You’ll be surprised at how much you already know and how much you learn. 

And always keep the subtitles in French. Pause and translate if you must, but since language doesn’t match up exactly you’ll miss out on learning grammar structures and new words if you read the English (or any non-French subtitle). 

Discussed after the jump:

Nailed It! France (reality competition series)

Fary: Hexagone (two-part stand-up)

2 Alone in Paris (comedy, movie)

Twice Upon a Time (drama/thriller/romance, series)

I didn’t want to call out “cons” (those can be subjective) so I called them “notes”.

Nailed It! France // C’est du gâteau!  Reality Competition (finished the season)

If you’ve watched the original Nailed It!, this version is the exact same. The French title means more “(It’s a) piece of cake!”

It stars a comedian host, Artus; a chef (bizarrely not Jacques Torres, but he does guest!), Noémie Honiat; and a rotating special guest, some sort of celebrity. Three competitors change from episode to episode, but the format is always the same.

Pros:

You’re exposed to lots of different speakers. Slow, fast, young, old, high pitch, low pitch, and different accents. 

You’re exposed to slang and more casual styles of speech.

A lot of the terminology repeats from episode to episode. You can train your ear to recognize them. 

On-screen tips and directions add reading opportunities. 

Because each episode is themed, you do get a genre of terminology.

Notes:

Terminology is baking-heavy. It may not be relevant to your interests, and the vocab may not be very useful for regular conversation. 

No overarching plot or deep comprehension. 

Jokes and puns add a challenge.

Fary: Hexagone  Two Part Stand-Up (finished both)

Part one of the stand-up is black and white (except for the blue of Fary’s outfit), and part two is in full color. 

Fary is humorous and light, while also touching on a variety of deeper topics, especially in the second half. 

Pros:

Like Nailed It!, it’s better for casual, spoken French.

There’s a couple jokes that rely on knowledge of English to make them funny.

Notes:

He speaks very quickly and uses more colloquialisms than Nailed It!. I’d consider it more advanced. 

Captions are not exact so do be careful with them! 

There’s some language, so up to your tastes. 

Make sure you have base knowledge of Éric Zemmour, Dieudonné, and  Bataclan/ the November 2015 Paris attacks beforehand to understand some of the bits.

Also available: Fary Is the New Black from 2 years prior (I did not watch this)

2 Alone in Paris // Seuls Two Comedy, movie

What a fever dream, an unhinged bundle of chaos. The end credits say it was inspired by an event in Nevada in 1964 but I can’t seem to find anything about it. I can only assume it’s just for show but if you find anything about it, let me know. There is a small mid-credits scene and some bonus footage. And at the very end is dedicated to Pierre and Marie Curie. 

Comedy duo Eric and Ramzy are a cop-and-criminal duo that are playing a long-standing game of cat and mouse. Something happens and suddenly they are the only two on Earth...

Pros:

It’s only an hour and a half. So though it’s a movie, it’s a quick one. 

Notes:

More than 50% of the film is yelling and screaming. I recommend subtitles, but they’re not very accurate.

Again, a fever dream. 

(Did I just get tired and lazy or did I really feel some type of way about this one?)

Twice Upon a Time // Il était une seconde fois Drama/thriller/romance, series (watched part of 1)

There’s only 4 episodes and I didn’t even finish one, but wanted to chat about it all the same. As I mentioned above this isn’t really my genre, though I didn’t even get far enough for any suspense. 

But I do love Gaspard Ulliel so I decided to check it out anyway. It didn’t really suck me in, and based on some Reddit comments it seems like it only gets more and more confusing and has no wrap up. 

No clear pros and notes because I didn’t watch enough of it. But pro being following a plot line (having to retain the information) even if, note, the plot is all over.

~~~

If you made it this far, why? But thank you!

Here are some honorable mentions that didn’t make the list because, though I have seen them and recommend them, I did not rewatch them for this post. All on Netflix:

The African Doctor (similar-ish to Seducing Doctor Lewis, which is not available on Netflix)

My Life as a Zucchini 

The Little Prince 

[artificialqueens]

Hugs, tears and electricity (Biadore) - Chaoticnachokitten

A/N: Hii^-^

This is my first fanfic in this fandom, so please leave me some feedback, positive or negative, if you want to. I wrote this because there will never be enough sickfics but I’m too shy to ask for them, so yeah. Please look at the trigger warnings as there will be discussions of eating disorders and somewhat mild self harm (no blood). Stay safe and don’t read it if anything might trigger you. This is probably set in 2015/2016 but not necessarily.

Summary: Why performing in a club while being sick is never a good idea. Biadore friendship with fluff, angst and hurt/comfort.

Adore checked her phone. She had actually slept through the whole day. It was three hours before the show would start. While it wasn’t unusual for her to sleep in, the whole day was a bit extreme, and yet she was still tired and felt off.

The gig wasn’t anything particularly fancy or really exciting even, just a local club hosting a singing/ lip sync competition. Most of the performers would be local queens as well, with the exception of her.

It had been rumored that the club was about to go bankrupt, so they decided to scrape up basically all of the money they had left to host the show and try to get one of the RuGirls to perform there. Since Adore knew the club, and some of the local queens, she had decided to accept to offer, even if the pay wasn't that great. At least it was convenient because she was currently staying in a hotel (sharing a room with Bianca because literally every room was booked, not that either of them minded) which happened to be basically next to the club.

Bianca and her hadn't been doing a lot of gigs in a while as they had both been busy with different projects, and Adore missed the feeling of being on stage, people cheering for her, the adrenaline kick, the casual making out with fans, and, of course, the occasional crowd surfing.

Now, usually Adore would only need about an hour to get ready, depending on the occasion and how she was feeling but Bianca had insisted that they’d do the final costume fitting for her custom dress as soon as possible in case any kind of alteration had to be done.

Adore sometimes wondered how Bianca and her were such amazing friends despite them being completely different, especially when it came to their drag.

While Adore could care less about what people thought of her and her gender bending, unique and sometimes completely spontaneous style of drag, or at least act like it, Bianca liked to have everything planned out and organized as soon as possible so nothing could possibly go wrong. In fact she was probably doing it right now, given the sounds on her side; Adore didn’t bother to check though, in fact she didn’t want to move at all as she still felt exhausted for some reason despite having slept through the whole day.

Why would someone plan their whole drag a day before the show would even start on their day off? Adore just shook her head fondly and closed her eyes, just for a minute, to regain some energy. It wasn’t any use though as she was woken up by the older queen what seemed like only seconds later. Right. The dress. That got her excited enough to get up, although not without difficulty.

"Oh my god, it's stunning.” Adore was gagging over the dress. It even exceeded her expectations. It wasn't just any dress. It was the most perfect custom dress made by Bianca specifically for her, which made it even better. Bianca let Adore enjoy the moment and proceeded to search for the very corset Adore had 'borrowed' from her among a few other things.

Bianca had never been able to quite bring herself to be mad at the younger queen though, it was just a corset after all, she herself had given it to the younger queen. If anything it mostly amused her because Adore seemed to be attached to it for some odd reason.

Said queen was still staring at the dress, gently touching the beautiful fabric. A lot of work had gone into it, some parts had to be made completely from scratch, and of course, the sewing hadn't been that easy either, given the materials. The fact that the dress had been designed and created specifically for Adore made it about ten times more complicated as well.

First of all, it needed to give her the ability to move as freely as possible on stage. Adore was known for her energetic life performances and occasional crowd surfing. On top of that, it still needed to be absolutely gorgeous while not looking super polished. Someone who calls themselves polish remover should probably not be forced into a long, glamorous gown ; it just wouldn't be authentic Adore anymore.

Taking all of that into consideration, Bianca had created a turquoise, off the shoulder sequin mini dress, mermaid themed of course, so Adore could still be her true self. It was decorated with small pieces of corals on the neckline (no sharp ones though, Adore is very clumsy and would probably hurt herself with them or with a long gown) and tiny little fish ornaments around the waist, arranged like a belt (just for fun and the irony). Bianca had even been thoughtful enough to create the dress in a way that the seams could be let out, just in case. It was also perfect for the upcoming evening as it would look absolutely stunning in the spotlight while not being a pain to lip sync in.

Adore was still admiring the dress when Bianca came back with the corset. Only then did she notice that something was off about Adore. Her face was really pale, except her cheeks, which were flushed pink. Kind of adorable (pun not intended), but really worrying at the same time. So maybe that’s why it had been impossible to wake her up.

Adore went to grab the corset in order to put it on, but Bianca just shook her head. Adore started giggling (which quickly turned into a cough, she really needed to quit smoking).

"At this point I can do it all by myself B. I’m like, an expert now, a real drag queen.”

Still, she removed her shirt (Bianca merch), moved closer to the older queen, and turned around.

"Oh shut up", Bianca muttered, no bite in her voice though, a smile tugging on her lips even. Adore was very special to her, and this was one of her ways to express it.

She noticed a few bruises on Adore's back. Nothing serious, but she'd quickly check on them, just to make sure putting on the corset wouldn't be any more uncomfortable than usual for the younger queen. Bianca let her fingers gently trace over the bruises. Her worry grew as she felt the heat basically radiating off of Adore.

"Does that hurt?" She managed to keep her voice as neutral and casual sounding as possible. She knew from experience that Adore would probably not admit anything, at least for now. The younger queen simply hated being sick or feeling weak, not being able to perform, and disappointing her fans.

"Uhm not really, no. Why?" Adore was slightly confused. While her body was hurting all over, especially her muscles from the fever, she had tried not to make it super obvious, and it wasn't like Bianca was making it worse. "You've got a couple of bruises. Do you think the corset will be alright?"

"Yeah, sure." Bianca couldn't see Adore's smile. Bianca was seriously worried about a bit of bruising. Those were the kind of moments that proved that people who said Bianca was cold and bitter were just wrong as they either completely ignored her kind actions or just didn't want see them. Though it wasn't like their opinion meant anything anyway.

With skilled fingers, Bianca went ahead and laced her in, noticing that it was easier to put it on compared to the last times, but then shrugged it off. The material of the corset was probably stretched out or something. At least that's what Bianca told herself to keep calm, although the worry kept growing in her chest, almost suffocating her. She forced a smile on her face, which was fairly easy for her after all those years of performing.

"Alright, all done. Let's get you in that dress." Adore nodded excitedly, and tried on her gorgeous new dress while concentrating hard on keeping her balance. Bianca zipped it up, noticing in horror that it was too loose.

She furrowed her brows in confusion. She'd been making dresses for years now, so the measurements simply could not be wrong, especially since they had been taken pretty recently. That meant Adore had managed to drop an alarming amount of weight in a really short time. Bianca could have slapped herself in that moment, for not noticing sooner. The amount of worry was almost unbearable now, blocking her airways. She tried to ignore the feeling and act rational. As much as she didn't want to make Adore to feel uncomfortable, she had to find out what was wrong with her baby. Bianca took a deep breath, forming the words in her head.

"B?", Adore asked in a confused and slightly worried tone. "Are you okay? You literally haven't said anything for minutes now, you’re freaking me out." Bianca stepped in front of the younger queen, and gestured to the bed. "Sit down, I need to talk to you."

The words came out the wrong way, Adore looked terrified and started shivering in fear. Her somewhat foggy and feverish brain was trying to find out what she had done wrong and making everything dramatic. Adore just hated disappointing or upsetting people she loved. Realizing her mistake, Bianca quickly hugged Adore, and sat her down on the bed, gently assuring her it wasn't anything too bad. Technically a lie, but Bianca was able to hide her worrying.

"Adore. As you might have noticed, your dress obviously doesn't fit. Which is weird, because I took your measurements just a short while ago. Something is wrong, and I would like to help you, okay baby?"

Adore started shivering even more, a voice in her head telling her to not say anything. She fought it with all of her strength.

"I- I'm sorry." A sob escaped her "You worked so hard on it and I- I can't do anything right!" Okay this was going in the false direction.

"Baby, I don't care about having to change something about the dress, I care about you. It is neither normal nor healthy to lose that weight that fast. Please talk to me, Adore." Adore just didn't feel ready to talk, so instead she tried to respond as maturely as possible.

"Please..can we talk after the show? I promise I will tell you everything, but I need some time to prepare myself." Bianca agreed.

"Alright baby, but please promise me to take care of yourself up there. So nothing too exhausting and if you don't feel well, cancel. Your health is the most important thing." Some tears escaped Adore's eyes. She felt loved.

“I promise I feel good enough to perform. Thank you, B." She pulled Bianca in a tight hug.

They stayed like this for a while, holding each other and feeling like everything would work out. Whatever obstacle the younger queen was facing at the moment, they would manage to fix it. Bianca pressed a kiss to Adore's forehead, frowning when she felt the heat once again, maybe even stronger than before. She let go of Adore, knowing they still needed to get her in drag. Adore's smile was precious, and Bianca couldn't help but kiss her once more, this time on the cheek.

"I'm going to do my makeup now", Adore announced, beginning to get up to go to the bathroom, where her makeup was stored. She would usually do it at the club, right before the gig, but she knew that the dressing rooms sucked in that particular club. Bianca quickly grabbed her shoulder to prevent Adore from leaving.

"Let me do it for you." Adore shook her head.

"Seriously B, you've done more than enough for me already. You're supposed to relax today." Bianca merely sighed.

"Show me your hands then." Confused, the younger queen stretched out her arms a bit, to take a look at her hands. They were trembling, and not in a normal way.

"Oh."

"Exactly. I'm doing your makeup, and that's the end of it. Unless you actually want to be a responsible adult and cancel."

Adore shook her head again. Bianca sighed, and got up to get everything she needed. Adore waited patiently, while getting mildly amused by the cursing about her stuff being messy and all over the place. Bianca came back, not even bothering to say anything. She just gave Adore her 'Really queen?' stare. At this point, she had already accepted that this was just the way the younger queen was, and nothing could change that. And, honestly, given Adore's style of drag, being organized and clean would just be plain weird.

“Wait, are those my brushes? Why are they clean?”

“Well someone just had to clean them bitch, they were literal health hazards. I don’t even know how you can even still use them.”

Adore simply shrugged. What even is the point of cleaning brushes if you’re going to use them over and over again?

"Okay, close your eyes." Adore was confused. Why in the hell would Bianca want to start with the eyes? She complied though, not questioning it. Somehow she felt like her energy had drained all at once. Bianca witnessed the sudden change immediately; it did absolutely nothing to calm her nerves. To not raise any more suspicion of Adore, she half-heartedly applied some eye primer , well knowing that Adore usually didn't even bother to use it. "Okay, now open your mouth." At this point Adore was concerned. What the hell was Bianca on and what was she doing to her face?

She opened her mouth to ask the older queen what was going on, but before she could even say anything, a cold, metal-like tasting object had been pushed in her mouth.

Damn. That had been one fast move of the older queen. Bianca gave Adore one stern look that basically told her to better keep her mouth closed, or the consequences wouldn't be pretty. Adore pouted, but kept the thermometer under her tongue. Bianca’s look softened once the thermometer beeped. The somewhat relaxed face was quickly replaced with another concerned frown, the older queen was seemingly dissatisfied with the numbers on the small device.

“Do you like, always travel with medical equipment?” A sigh followed.

“Don’t even try to change the subject now, because this is not looking good. See, your temperature’s 101. I'll get you something for it." Adore shook her head with a slight frown.

"I can't. You know how tired I get after taking that stuff. Besides I'm feeling alright, no need to worry." She smiled sweetly.

Yeah, right. Last time Adore had told Bianca not to worry, Bianca found her passed out and bleeding on the street after leaving a club with a guy the older queen had warned Adore about. Ever since then, Bianca had promised herself she wouldn't let anything like that ever happen again, even if that meant a pouting queen for a while. So needless to say, Bianca was just not convinced it would be any good for Adore to perform sick without any energy due to the lack of proper nutrition and possibly drunk on top of everything. But then again, the younger queen was an adult and could make her own (terrible) decisions.

"I'll come with you.”

"B, you really don't know what relaxing means, do you?"

"Oh yeah, 'cause knowing you'll probably collapse on stage is very relaxing, isn't it?" Bianca proceeded to roll her eyes.

"C'mon, it's just a small gig, I'll be fine."

To at least kind of calm the older queen, Adore quickly added "If you still want to talk about the..uhm..dress thing, we'll do it after the show. Promise, just please, take care of yourself for once." Cue puppy eyes, that unfortunately never really worked on the older queen. Bianca raised an eyebrow at that.

"You're telling me to take care of myself? This is simply ridiculous. And I, in fact, insist that we're going to talk about the ‘dress’ thing. So, let's just get you ready, all right?"

Making jokes seemed wrong right now, her ‘rolodex of hate’ stayed completely silent, so changing the topic would have to do the job of lighting up the mood. "What did you have in mind for today?" Adore kind of tilted her head sideways, trying really hard to remember what she had originally wanted to do. Her face was burning up and her head was a fuzzy mess.

"Uhm how about a kind of mermaid inspired design? I mean not that I would need makeup to look like that, so it's really just working with what I already got." She grinned slightly, which was nice to see. Maybe she would survive the gig after all. Bianca smiled, nodded and then went all professional.

She wanted Adore's makeup to be perfect, which, given her experience and Adore’s flawless face, wouldn’t be that hard. She was so skilled and experienced she could actually let her thoughts drift off while still doing a perfect job.

Bianca thought about Adore and her obvious problem. Of course, she already expected her to say the most obvious, but maybe, just maybe, it wasn't anything that bad. Although Adore saying she needed time before talking about it didn’t sound like it was just a small thing, hope dies last.

Once she was done with the makeup, she convinced Adore to go to the club with her, saying she needed a couple of drinks, but in reality she didn't feel good about letting Adore leave alone. Not even the amount of makeup could hide that something wasn't exactly right.

Since the younger queen could basically hear Bianca overthinking everything, she quickly got up to leave the hotel room. It didn't exactly work out as some black spots clouded her vision, and she could only prevent herself from collapsing with all of her strength while holding onto whatever furniture was next to her. Thankfully the sensation only lasted a couple of seconds, and she was able to reach the door without any further issues. She was excited for the show, the adrenaline was already kicking in, preventing her from feeling any worse. She was about to turn the doorknob when she felt a hand on her wrist gently but firmly pulling her back.

"Bitch, you're going to wear a jacket. And no, not that leather thing, don’t look at me like that. Can't have you freeze to death on top of everything else."

"Ugh, fine, mom." Bianca just rolled her eyes, and handed Adore said jacket.

It really was a cold night, nicely paired with the kind of wind that managed to make everyone feel cold, no matter the clothes. It made both of them shiver. The atmosphere between Bianca and Adore was a bit tense, simply because Bianca was obviously worried, so Adore tried to lighten the mood a bit.

“Look, there’s a shooting star!”, she exclaimed while pointing at the sky. Shit, she really is delirious. “Adore, that’s not a shooting star, it’s a just an airplane.”

“I know. I was just joking..?” Bianca wasn’t convinced whatsoever. The rest of their walk to the club was mostly silent apart from the younger queen coughing a couple of times. Bianca wanted to drag her back to the hotel, but knew that Adore would rather collapse on stage than cancel, just like almost every serious, professional drag performer.

They arrived at the club at the time Adore was supposed to, as to avoid a crowd of drunk fans expecting to meet her before the show. Usually Adore liked meeting her fans, but not in her current state and definitely not in front of a club. The location offered no security whatsoever, and, unlike in a meet and greet, there would always be disappointed people who weren’t noticed, and hateful posts the day after. On top of that it was starting to rain, and the younger queen had to shield her face with her arms to protect her paint. While she usually didn’t care about her makeup getting smudged, Bianca’s gorgeous artwork could not be destroyed under any circumstances. So, needless to say, Adore was more than happy to not having to deal with people wanting to talk to her for an hour and take tons of selfies all while standing outside in the cold rain.

The club was in worse condition than expected. Some of the illuminated letters were only occasional lighting up, one didn't work at anymore.

"Party!" One of the staff members seemed to hear that and immediately recognized them. He made his way over to the two queens, politely thanking them for coming, and then quickly showing them the backstage entrance. Technically Bianca wasn't allowed in that area because she wasn't performing, but in reality she was Bianca del Rio and the staff member could probably tell that something was wrong. In order to let them get ready, he just asked them if they needed anything.

When Adore declined, he excused himself. One of the local queens (barely 21, smudged makeup and nervous as hell) presented Adore the list so she could in which order everyone would perform. Apparently no one wanted to do the opening, so she Adore put her name on it (which made Bianca roll her eyes once more. The younger queen would probably drain all of her remaining energy just for the opening speech.)She was assigned to do the second lip sync and was third for the life singing. Not bad. She thanked the queen, and then worked on a rough outline of what she wanted to say. A few moments after the local queen had left, a loud, excited squeal could be heard outside, which made Adore chuckle slightly. Afterwards she got back to her opening speech.

Adore had never been one to plan out everything perfect, as it was too stiff and polished in her opinion. The job was easy as well. Just get the crowd excited, which would be a piece of cake. After all, she just had to yell 'Pizza' and 'Party' to make her fans go wild. Or, not even that, all she had to do was going on stage. Or referring to something iconic said on Drag Race. It was one of the perks of being well known and of course loved in the scene.

A bit of time passed, and she still hadn’t received any kind of information when exactly she should be on stage, usually some staff member would knock on her door and let her know. So when she heard the know she assumed it was time, so she quickly checked her makeup, fixed her dress and opened the door. The local queen from earlier was standing there, still looking very nervous, but also somewhat scared.

“I'm really sorry”, she started, voice trembling, pulling on the sleeves on her dress nervously

“Apparently the club is having some technical difficulties that need to be fixed. It’s honestly like every damn time. Again I’m really sorry, someone will inform you when they’ve fixed everything. It usually doesn’t take that long.”

What kind of club even is this? Adore was getting slightly annoyed, but forced herself to smile. “Alright, thanks for telling me. Oh, and there’s no need to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

As soon as the girl had left again, Adore felt the need to cry. Why did she ever agree to do this? How long would this take? The built up adrenaline was leaving her body and she was getting so exhausted just by being awake.

Bianca seemed to be able to read her mind, because before she knew it the younger queen was laying on a couch, probably the most expensive thing in this entire sad excuse for a club, head resting it the older queen’s lap, who tried to comfort her by gently stroking her head without messing up the long red wig, and telling her over and over again that everything would be okay.

At this point Bianca couldn’t even tell if it was her who in fact needed to hear those things. That sight and knowing there was nothing she could really do right now to help the younger queen hurt her heart. Adore closed her eyes, clearly trying to get some energy back, which likely wouldn’t be very effective though. What she really needed were food, medicine and plenty of rest. And somebody to take care of her, because Adore was terrible at taking care of herself when she was sick.

Around twenty minutes later, someone knocked on the door again, waking up the younger queen, this time an actual staff member, telling Adore she was supposed to go on stage in five minutes, and giving her two ear pieces, like every normal club would. He immediately left after that, to give Adore time to get ready.

As soon as he had left, Bianca looked at the younger queen with a dead serious expression.

“I can’t believe you’re actually risking your health like that.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t done the exact same thing before.” Bianca couldn’t really argue with that, and just pulled Adore into a hug.

“Please don’t die up there, people are going to assume it was me.” Adore lightly chuckled.

“I won’t. I have to go now though.”

Squeezing the older queen tightly one last time, she put on her best confident face and walk, and headed to the stage. On the outside, she probably looked fine thanks to Bianca’s makeup skills, but her head was pounding, the ear pieces felt uncomfortable and the black dots clouding her vision just wouldn’t go away. On top of that she just seemed not to be able to stop shivering to the point where her legs were ready to give out one time. Thankfully she made it to the stage without fainting. The first part would be really easy: greeting the fans.

"Hi everyone, thanks for coming tonight! I'll keep this short so we can go straight into the good stuff." And done. As predicted, the crowd was already going crazy by just seeing her. The fans were in fact cheering so loudly she had to scream to be heard, even with the microphone, which, to be honest, kind of sucked quality wise.

"Are you ready? Let's get sickening! Party!" The last word had been a little too much for her already sore throat, and she really had to fight the urge to cough.

"Those are the amazing queens that will perform tonight." She listed everyone, trying to keep it both brief and entertaining.

Afterwards, she quickly (or as quickly as she could manage) left the stage to make room for the first queen. She also needed to prepare herself for the upcoming lip sync, as she would be the second one. The competition was designed to be pretty fair, so she would only know which song she would perform on stage. Only one minute left. Bianca for some reason was nowhere in sight, so she just quickly looked in the mirror, deciding she looked fucking cool, and then made her way back to the stage.

A staff member handed her a jar with contained folded pieces of paper. She had to pick one randomly, and the chosen paper would reveal what song she’d be performing. Everyone of the performing queens would have to do that as well. It was made like that so every contestant had fair chances of winning.

Adore opened the jar and tried to get out its contents in a somewhat sexual way, making the crowd scream once again. She opened the paper and read the word printed on it. 'Vibeology'. Creativity apparently wasn't their strongest suit, but on the bright side, she would really slay this lip sync. As soon as she started to relax a bit though, her body took that as a sign that it was okay to make her feel worse. The burning of her cheeks was almost unbearable, and the costume was too hot and she just wanted it off. Why did she ever agree to do this?

The crowd was kind of confused because Adore was just staring at the paper, not saying anything after acting so excited just minutes ago. The staff started playing the music anyway. Adore's ear pieces were adjusted way too loudly, it was almost hurting her ears, definitely not helping with her already present headache. Still, she forced a grin, and started dancing, acting as unique and playful as ever, doing the cross eye, jumping around, even doing a split.

The adrenaline was pumping through her entire body, giving her the strength she needed. This was why she loved performing. Feeling the energy of the crowd always gave her one of the best highs she had ever experienced. The feeling was just so incredible.

She was so into the performance, she didn't even notice that the light was suddenly acting weird. If Adore had noticed it, she could have prevented what was about to happen. (The entire electricity was connected somehow, even her ear pieces were connected with the light) When she was about to jump into another split, the light suddenly went out completely, she felt the right ear piece heating up, and before she could do anything, the worst sound and an excruciating pain erupted from her ear, sending literal waves of pain down her entire body. The sound was like a mix of fireworks and a siren, the pain too terrible to describe it in words. Tears shot in her eyes and a scream escaped her lips as she felt her body fall to the floor, unable to move on her own, except her body was shaking in shock and pain, or even try to hide her pain. She was almost thankful when she felt the darkness wrapping her head, taking away a bit of the pain. Her eyelids fluttered shut..

(P. O. V. Bianca at the start of the lip sync.)

Bianca was already worried, and the song hadn't even started. Adore wasn't reacting to the note at all. No funny comment or literally anything (not that Bianca could see her face, she was watching through a camera backstage which was positioned on the back of the stage). She was blankly staring into space. The older queen had to stop herself from dragging Adore off stage with all her strength. When the lip sync started though, Adore went into her usual energetic, quirky self, in fact, you could barely tell she wasn't 100% alright. It honestly made Bianca wonder whether Adore did this a lot, or if she was just a good actress.

Bianca was able to relax a tiny bit, seeing that Adore was doing somewhat okay, and she couldn't help but notice how pretty the younger queen was. The messy aesthetic just worked, and really added a lot to Adore's character. The only thing that really bothered her, was the fact that the dress still didn't fit her properly, even after trying to fix it in the rather short amount of time. This sight made her chest clench painfully once again. Of course, she would be able to fix it with some more time, but she’d obviously rather have Adore healthy again.

Suddenly the light started acting crazy, the spotlights going off at completely random times and places, which was definitely not what was supposed to happen. Adore didn't seem bothered by it though, in fact, it was almost like she didn't notice it at all.

The younger queen was even getting ready to jump into a split, just as the lights went out entirely. The entire room fell silent, then Bianca could see blue sparks coming from somewhere, very possibly but hopefully not Adore. What followed was the most painful scream she had ever heard (and she had heard a lot of screaming and yelling), and a thud. The thought of what could have possibly happened made her feel sick to her stomach.

At this point, the people were totally freaking out. Bianca practically ran on stage, indeed finding an unconscious Adore. Thankfully the curtain had fallen and shielded the horrific sight from the crowd. Bianca didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if it had hit Adore. She still freaked out, but tried to force herself to act as responsible as possible in order to help the younger queen.

Trying to not worry the crowd, the staff members announced via megaphone that everyone needed to leave for now because of some technical difficulties, everything they had heard were just sound effects, everyone was safe and they would get their money back, stuff like that.

It gave Bianca the opportunity to quietly half drag half carry Adore off the stage as fast as possible. Thankfully she had remembered how to get back to the dressing room before the whole thing had happened, because it was pretty impossible to see anything, the only source of light were some LED floor spots.

It was a miracle that no one of the fans had noticed anything, well except for the scream, but the crowd was probably as shocked as she was. This club honestly sucked. The staff members managed to escort the disturbed people out with little problem, and then proceeded to work on the broken electricity.

By the time Bianca and Adore had made it back to the dressing room, the light was thankfully working again, at least in that particular room, although it was still flickering, somehow making the mood of the room even more dramatic, and frankly, irritating.

Bianca laid Adore on the only small sofa in the room. She was still unconscious. The first thing Bianca did was taking off the ear piece. It thankfully still was one piece, but it looked like something in it had exploded and electrocuted Adore in the process. Bianca cringed at the sheer thought of how painful that must have been.

She gently started shaking the younger queen, trying to be completely and utterly careful. When that didn't work, she checked Adore's pulse. It was there, but weak. Not good at all. Her next attempt was putting cold water on the younger queen's face. This did the trick, Adore gasped and opened her eyes. Bianca had never been that thankful in her entire life.

Unsurprisingly though, Adore was still in a state of shock, and started crying uncontrollably, confused, not knowing where she was or what was happening, feeling absolutely terrified and hurting all over. Bianca kept her voice quiet and gentle.

"Is it okay if I hug you?" Adore managed to give her a small nod. Usually when she was sad or hurt, touch seemed to really help the younger queen, this was the reason why Bianca had asked her this question first. Well, not one hundred percent because of that. In her vulnerable state Adore just needed to be protected right now, the older queen could absolutely not let happen anything else to her, or she’d never forgive herself.

Bianca went on her knees and just held the younger queen, and telling her she was okay and everything would be alright, hoping to make her feel just a tiny bit better. Adore calmed down almost immediately, Bianca's presence never failed to make her feel safe. Especially her scent, and the way she held her were like magic to Adore. The crying calmed down to a manageable level rather quickly, possibly because Adore didn’t have any energy left anymore. Bianca slowly let go of her, because she really needed to check whether they needed to call an ambulance. Not wanting to break all of the contact though, she held Adore's hand instead.

"Okay baby, I need to ask you a couple of things", she said softly.

"Afterwards we'll go home immediately, and we'll cuddle for the whole night, I promise", she quickly added, seeing that Adore's eyes went all glossy again.

"Is that okay?" Adore weakly nodded again.

"Okay, thank you baby. Do you hear everything I say?" A nod.

"My ear hurts so bad though, and there’s like this.. ringing that won’t go away" , Adore admitted in the saddest, tiniest voice, wincing when another bolt of pain hit her.

Bianca gently wiped away the fresh tears with her thumb and placed a comforting kiss on Adore’s forehead. That sounded not too bad given the circumstances, Bianca would just bring Adore to a doctor tomorrow as she already knew how much Adore would hate going to a hospital, and she wasn't in any life threatening state, at least it didn’t currently seem like it.

Adore for some reason thought it would be a good idea to touch her ear, hissing when the pain was so intense it made her dizzy. Bianca quickly but gently pulled the younger’s hand away and told her not to do it again.

"I'm so sorry baby. I promise you'll feel better soon. Anything else you want to tell me?" Adore had started crying quietly again.

"I feel horrible B, please just get me out of here."

"Of course baby, can you-" Adore tried to push herself into a sitting position and failed. Her ear was ringing so painfully, causing her head spin and making her want to curl up and die. There was simply too much pain and not enough strength.

"Okay no, you obviously can't. That’s okay, I'm just going to carry you outside, then we can call a cab."

Adore wanted to protest, being absolutely sure that Bianca would collapse while trying to lift her. She knew how freaking heavy she was. Maybe if she tried again she could actually walk. She simply had to. Otherwise she'd crush the older queen with her weight. Damn, why couldn’t she just be skinny?

Bianca could practically hear Adore thinking, so she put on a jacket on the younger and gently picked up her bridal style. She was very surprised, in a bad way. Adore felt so light, delicate like a single touch could break her, and Bianca could feel the bones of her spine sticking out. They were absolutely going to talk about the sudden weight loss. And she needed to give Adore some medicine as soon as possible. She was practically burning up, wincing in pain and shivering like crazy, Bianca was reminded of those abandoned kittens in terrible states, sick and almost starved to death they would sometimes show in those animal shelter documentaries. The MEOW tattoo just added to that mental picture.

The older queen used an exclusive exit to make sure no fans would see them, which was like the worst thing that could probably happen. For what seemed to be the first time this night, they were in luck and everyone seemed to be gone at this point, making everything a whole lot easier. There was a somewhat fancy button directly next to the club that would automatically call a cab to their exact location. Perhaps the only good thing the club had to offer.

Trying to push it was a real challenge, considering that she was carrying an adult person at the same time, but there was absolutely no way she would put that precious queen on the cold, dirty and wet from the continuous rain, ground. With a bit of adjustment she managed to press it. Now all she had to do was comfort Adore and try to keep her warm, at least dry from the freezing rain, which wasn’t all that easy as it seemed to only get stronger as time went by. Eventually it was pouring icy water.

The shivering got worse by the second as well although Adore felt way too hot, her body radiating heat.

Being in the cold for too long while already being sick was also less than ideal. Adore let out a soft pained sound. She was still really overwhelmed, trying to process everything that had happened. Bianca just held her closer.

“Shh, I got you. Nothing is going to happen to you anymore baby, I promise.” The rain was really pouring now, the drops were huge and icy.

The cab thankfully arrived after only a couple of minutes of waiting, and the driver didn't even question anything, which Bianca was grateful for.

During the drive Adore and Bianca held hands, Bianca gently stroking Adore's, knowing she liked that. With her free hand, she gently moved the hair out of the younger queen's face to take another look at her. She seemed to look worse by the second, skin getting as white as snow, a bizarre contrast to her now completely smudged black eye makeup and her cheeks, which were almost glowing at this point.

The fact that Adore couldn't even hold up her head properly anymore was probably the most concerning thing. The older queen gently held Adore so she wouldn’t bang her head against the car window or something. Bianca swore to herself she would never let the younger queen perform ever again when she wasn't feeling 100%. Tonight had just proved how terrible and harmful Adore's choices were.

The cab arrived at the hotel. Bianca paid the driver, and tipped him before lifting Adore out of the car and carrying her inside the hotel. Thankfully it was so late that no one except the receptionist saw them, and she was clearly just not interested. She had probably seen worse. Thankfully their room wasn’t very far away, lowering the chances of any fans seeing them.

When they had arrived in front of their room, Bianca unlocked the door, which thankfully worked with sliding in a card. Once they were in, she placed Adore on the bed, gently, making sure the younger queen wasn't wearing shoes anymore.

Adore was still shaking, letting out a tiny pained noise once again. Bianca was pretty much helpless at this point, not being sure what she should do. Getting the medication meant leaving Adore, and that was the last thing she wanted to do, but on the other hand, the younger queen really needed it as soon as possible. She gently started petting Adore's head, hoping it would comfort her just a tiny bit before gently telling her "I'm just going to get you something, I'll be back in just a few seconds.”

The saddest eyes in history and a whispered "Please don't leave me" followed.

Bianca gently kissed Adore's overheated forehead and promised her once more she'd hurry up. Thankfully being as organized as she was, she had already put everything she needed in the bathroom and didn't have to search for it. Hopefully the stuff she had would be enough to help Adore.

When she went back, she was met with the heartbreaking sight of a quietly crying mermaid curled up into a tiny ball. Bianca took the thermometer again. Then she just let her instincts take over. She wrapped her arms around the shaking ball of sadness and gently told her everything would be better soon. It took a couple of minutes before Adore had been ready to fully uncurl again as she was partly doing it because of physical pain, and as soon as she did, the thermometer was placed into her mouth again.

"103.8. Shit. We gotta get this down immediately."

Bianca was about to hand Adore the appropriate pill, when she realized that would be a mistake in her current state.

"Oh fuck, I just remembered, that’s the kind you can't take on an empty stomach, and I don't have anything else right now. And there's no way I'm leaving you."

Adore was convinced that this day couldn't get any worse. She, in fact, did have a problem with eating that had been getting worse over the past couple of weeks, and she wasn't ready to give it up. Not when she was doing so good and her weight was finally going down.

Long story short, she could cry again. Except she didn't have any energy and her stomach was cramping, probably from long suppressed hunger. She didn't care though. It didn’t matter anyway. Although she wanted nothing more than feel better and sleep, her mind didn’t allow her to simply agree.

“I ate today..earlier.” Her voice was barely a whisper. So much for trying to put up a fight.

“Adore, we literally spent the whole day together, which you spent entirely sleeping, so I would know that. I might be old, but I’m not that old yet.” Bianca rolled her eyes to disguise her worry.

Adore felt her chest tightening, a wave of feverish panic hit her.

"I- I can't", she whispered. "Please don't make me."

Adore quietly winced as another bolt of pain shot through her body. She felt her face burning while every other part of her body was freezing. Her muscles shook from pure exhaustion. Bianca was getting even more worried and tense. If Adore's temperature would rise any more, she'd have to bring her to hospital. And maybe they'd keep her there..no, that would and could not happen. Not on her watch. Adore would hate that.

She gently took Adore's hand. "Look baby, I'm not going to make you, but you need to understand that if you’re neither going to eat nor take your medication, we'll have to go to the ER because that is literally life threatening and I can't see you suffer like this any longer. So please baby, just try to." Tears escaped Bianca's beautiful eyes despite desperately trying to fight them.

Adore felt so, so guilty. She didn't want to hurt Bianca, a person she loved dearly. She'd have to try to eat, for Bianca, even if it hurt. Adore nodded.

"Alright. I'll do it."

But then she just couldn't force herself to. In fact, she was getting so worked up, she started to panic. Her chest became tight and breathing properly was therefore nearly impossible. It was getting so hard her body went full on panic mode, and she started dry heaving. Bianca reacted very quickly, asking for permission to touch Adore in a calm, collected voice. The last thing the younger queen needed was seeing how much it actually affected Bianca. When she was given the permission, she proceeded to open Adore's dress. She couldn't really take it off because of Adore's current state, but what she definitely had to get off was the cincher. Constricting the younger queen's airways it in fact had to come off immediately.

She was really surprised though, when Adore made a protesting sound. Bianca decided Adore's well being was the first priority, so she took off the cincher, already sensing what could be the issue. She still wanted to make sure the younger queen was alright.

"What's wrong baby?" Adore's head felt really weird and she couldn't quite form a coherent sentence.

"..hog body.." Adore tensed up once more and almost started hyperventilating. Not good, it would raise her temperature even more.

"Fuck. Okay baby, deep breaths for me. Great job. Now hold it." Bianca counted to three. "Okay now exhale. Well done."

She did this with the younger queen for a couple of minutes until Adore was almost fully there again. Bianca decided it was time to fully de drag the younger queen.

She started by taking off the wig, carefully setting it aside and gently pulling off the fake lashes before grabbing her fancy makeup wipes. The makeup came off immediately. Adore didn't say a word during the procedure, she was probably too exhausted. Getting off the dress was awkward because Bianca didn't think Adore could stand up long enough. She somehow got it off though, and then proceeded to put an oversized shirt on the younger queen.

She didn't want to give her anything warm as Adore was burning up already. Bianca tried to figure out what to say next as she didn't want to freak out Adore once more.

"Baby I'm sorry, but you have to eat something now." Her words were firm but gentle and caring at the same time. Adore just nodded, no energy left to fight in her.

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because I love you, you stupid bitch."

"Love you too, but there's something else.”

"I'll tell you when you're eating, deal?"

Adore sighed softly. "Deal."

Bianca unwrapped a protein bar. She just hoped it would be enough so Adore could take her medicine. Also, she would not actually give the bar to Adore. People with eating disorders could be so damn sneaky. Or well, at least the younger queen had used some questionable methods to get out of eating.

Adore was too tired to sit up, so she just put her head in Bianca's lap and closed her eyes. She just wanted this day to be fucking over.

"Open up, baby." Adore very reluctantly did as she was told. In her exhausted state, she couldn’t even bring herself to explain that she was, in fact, capable of eating on her own.

A small piece of a protein bar was put into her mouth. She tried to focus on anything else but the fact that she was eating, her mind screaming vile, disgusting things at her. Swallowing hurt as well as her throat was completely raw at this point, dry and irritated, and that combined with her body having run on empty for a while now almost made her gag. Adore winced and Bianca gently shushed her and made her drink some water.

"Tell me the other reason now, please. I need distraction.”

Bianca nodded.

"Alright. I used to know a queen."

A faint smile tugged on her lips, remembering her fondly. Bianca used this opportunity to feed Adore some more of the bar.

"One of the kindest people on earth, honestly.

I'm talking like showing up hours before a gig, helping people drag and de drag, comforting others, giving them motivational speeches, you get the point.”

“Kind of like you.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Anyway, so, the weird thing was, her dresses never seemed to fit her for more than a couple of weeks, and she never went out to eat with us. It was seriously odd, but neither of us wanted to confront her about it. We were young and immature, so we probably thought her problem would go away if we didn't acknowledge it. Well it obviously didn't. One day she was acting strange, but she was such a brilliant liar, we all thought it wasn't anything serious."

Another piece was put into the younger queen's mouth. Bianca absentmindedly stroked Adore's head.

"And then the day after she just didn't show up to the gig. We of course canceled it as we knew something wasn't alright at all. When we got inside her apartment, we found her there laying on the ground, unconscious. Her body had been eating at her heart which..well..killed her.”

A single tear made it's way down Bianca's cheek. She quickly fed Adore the last piece. Adore wanted to day something, but decided it wasn't the right timing, plus she had to fight her emotions as well. The story really hit close to home, and had actually scared her. Could that possibly happen to her as well..?  

"And that day I promised myself I can't let that happen to anyone else I care about. Not like this, and especially you. I love you so, so much and I can't lose you baby."

Adore was touched by those words and bubbly hot tears were running down her cheeks. She tried to sit up to hug Bianca but she didn't have enough strength to do so and just collapsed back. Bianca frowned.

"Don't try to move on your own right now. Do you want to sit up?" Adore gave her a nod, and Bianca gently pulled the younger queen into a sitting position, putting some pillows behind her so Adore could lean against something. They shared a relatively short but comforting hug, which pretty much used the last bit of the younger queen’s energy, but it had absolutely been worth it.

"Okay, now you really need to take something." Adore simply opened her mouth and allowed the older queen to put the pills and some awful tasting liquid in her mouth, and help her drink some water.

Adore was terribly exhausted, in pain and on top of that she now had to fight the negative voices telling her how terrible she had been for eating. The older queen immediately saw the change in the younger’s eyes. They were sparkling with tears but the color of them was darker and somehow dull as if their usual light had left them.

Bianca cupped Adore's face in her hands, being very careful about not touching her injured ear.

"Adore look at me. I'm really proud of you. I love you. Don't listen to whatever your head is telling you because it's lying. I promise you're not alone in this, I'll do everything I can to help you. I just want you to be okay."

Although Adore could not really believe those words, they felt good. She smiled. It was a tiny, but genuine smile.

"Thank you B. For everything. I love you too. So much. Thank you for not giving up on me."

“I would never.”

Adore's head dropped after her statement, a clear signal of her body needing rest. Bianca helped Adore lay down, making sure she was as comfortable as possible before switching off the light and laying down next to the younger queen, so they were facing each other. Bianca wrapped her arms around Adore who was still shivering. Usually touch helped the younger queen because it made her feel safe and made her feel like she was loved. Which she was of course. But the entire day had taken such a toll on her body and mind that some in her decided that feeling was suddenly overrated.

She couldn't feel Bianca's touch. What was wrong with her? She let out a small panicked sound, completely overwhelmed with the entire situation. Bianca could feel Adore's heartbeat get faster. She had to calm her down in any way she could. The younger queen needed rest so badly. She quickly turned on the light again.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"I-I can't feel anything anymore. H-help me.”

Adore sounded broken. She started clawing at her arms, nails digging into her skin, leaving angry red marks, a desperate attempt to just feel something, anything.

To say that this freaked Bianca out was an understatement. She quickly tried to pull away Adore's hands to keep her from hurting herself. But, of course, luck didn’t seem to be on their side. The younger queen was in such a deep state of panic her muscles locked up, leaving her unable to move. This meant that she kept hurting her skin with her nails. At this point, even Bianca felt helpless, however, she was determined to help Adore, no matter what. Taking a few deep breaths, she calmed herself down enough to think somewhat rational.

Gently, she began to rub Adore’s hands, trying to get the muscles to relax again. While the younger queen could probably not feel this, maybe her body would still respond. After a while it seemed to have worked and the younger queen’s death grip loosened.

"Don't ever do that again, baby. You're too precious to hurt yourself. We'll figure it out, I promise, but self harm is never the solution.”

Bianca suddenly remembered that applying cold things, for example cool packs, were supposed to calm you down if you put them on the inside of your wrist. It would be worth a try. Or at the very least less damaging than straight up self harm. As a drag queen she always had some of them with her, because, let's face it, drag hurts. She explained her idea to Adore and then hurried up to get said items.

The ice and its freezing sensation seemed to help a bit. Adore still wasn't able to really feel anything, but that tiny glimpse she got from the ice was enough to calm her down. She didn't really understand why this was even happening to her and that was scary.

But at the same time, knowing she didn't have to deal with all of it alone was really comforting. Bianca would be there for her at all times, just as she would be there for the older queen. They were so different, but their relationship just worked. The love they had for each other was something both of them would cherish forever, no matter what hardships they would have to face.

With that thought she finally was able to fall asleep in Bianca's embrace, just knowing she was safe, loved, protected and everything would be okay.

[probably-voldemort]

tagged by @marauders-groupie and @captaindaddykru <3

What is the color of your hairbrush? black and boring and half the bristles are missing cause i’ve had it since I was like 10 but it’s great and i can’t find a new one that’s the same anywhere

Name a food you never eat? nuts.  yuck

Are you typically too warm or too cold? too cold hashtag thanks anemia

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? watching grey’s reruns which i am still doing lol

What is your favorite candy bar? the orange flavoured dairy milk ones

Have you ever been to a professional sports event? if college sports count as professional then yes.  if not then no

What is the last thing you said out loud? "oh thanks dad” (he brought chocolate bars home from the store)

What is your favorite ice cream? ones with hunks of cheesecake in it

What was the last thing you had to drink? tea

Do you like your wallet? it’s decent.  nothing special but it works

What was the last thing you ate? a cranberry muffin

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? nope

The last sporting event you watched? i think probably basketball at my uni?  but it’s been a long time lol

What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? salty

Who is the last person you sent a text message to? my phone’s being dumb so i don’t remember but i think my cousin

Ever go camping? all the hecking time.  camping is fantastic and the best is when you’re like four hours into the bush in the middle of nowhere

Do you take vitamins? yes

Do you go to church every Sunday? nope

Do you have a tan? nope

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? depends on my mood

Do you drink your soda with a straw? sometimes

What color socks do you usually wear? patterned

Do you ever drive above the speed limit? sometimes but not by much

What terrifies you? spiders

Look to your left, what do you see? cristina and owen trying to hook up in the on call room but oops webber was trying to sleep in that on call room (aka my tv)

What chore do you hate? firewood.  too many spiders *shudders*

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? crocodile hunter

What’s your favorite soda? pomegranate ginger ale

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus? depends

Who’s the last person you talked to? my dog who was trying to sneakily steal my muffin

Favorite cut of beef? i worked in restaurants so i know what this means but i just really don’t care?  as long as it’s not burnt and it’s cooked thoroughly enough that there’s no blood or redness left at all i’m good with any cut

Last song you listened to? co-pilot by andy grammer but tbh i didn’t really listen to it, it was just playing

Last book you read? some textbook idk.  i need to start reading actual books again now that the semester is over

Favorite day of the week? probably fridays

Can you say the alphabet backwards? i honed that skill as a child and frequently impressed random adults with the insane speed at which i could do it

How do you like your coffee? non existent

Favorite pair of shoes? i have these brown faux leather boots that i’ve had for like four years and they’re super comfy and great

The time you normally go to sleep? i normally go to bed at like 11 but fall asleep at like 1 cause my brain doesn’t like to fall asleep

The time you normally get up? usually around 9 unless i have to get up earlier

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? sunsets because sunrises happen too early

How many blankets on your bed? so many

Describe your kitchen plates: colourful and way too heavy

Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage? bellini smirnoffs or blackberry growers

Do you play cards? sometimes

What color is your car? blue

Can you change a tire? if i had to but like i’d prefer someone else to do it

Your favorite province? i’ve only been to bc and alberta and i’m gonna have to go with bc.  it was like 5000 degrees when i was in alberta and it was death.  fun but if i go again it won’t be mid august lol

Favorite job you’ve ever had? i really liked working at day camps but i also really liked the landscaping job i had

How did you get your biggest scar? was running too fast when i was two and tripped and fell and smashed my face into a cement corner.  i’ve got a cool scar between my eyebrows that turns bright red when i have a fever, like a less cool voldemort detector

What did you do today that made someone else happy? i moved the couch to get my dog’s ball for him and he was pretty excited

tagging: @pawprinterfanfic @moonshoesreyes @thelittlefanpire @dylanobrienisbatman and anyone else who wants to do it!!

[scarletfish]

See You Better

Summary: Buddy glances at Peter briefly. “He’s very dramatic, don’t you think? A fever and a cough and he’s got us all gathered around like it’s his deathbed.” 

Pairings: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: one minor reference to past abusive relationship, and slight PTSD (looking at you, Miasma)  AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23766886

A/N: Thanks @pigeon-pigeoff from tumblr for the sickfic prompt. It’s taken like, ten years, I’m the actual worst, but also I thought I had covid, got tested, and ended up having strep. So. It’s been a Week. This is like, 30% sickfic, 90% Nureyev Being Dramatic

“You got this Mistah Ransom!” Rita shoots the taller man two exaggerated thumbs up.

Her stage whisper is about as quiet as a Tunguskan siren.

It’s the middle of the goddamn night, and Peter Nureyev is standing outside his… coworker’s bedroom door. When he glances at the tray of food he’s balancing, there’s orange snack dust on his silk pajamas.

His nice silk pajamas. How in Jupiter’s moons did he end up here?

***

The short answer is that Juno is a child.

The slightly extended answer is that Juno is a child who refuses to take care of himself, and somehow that translated to the detective’s former secretary tapping quietly on Nureyev’s door at some ungodly morning hour.

He considered, for one glorious moment, slipping his eye mask back down and pretending to be asleep. Whatever it was could most likely wait until morning, and he needed a full face of makeup coupled with some strong tea to face--

File it away. Tying the sash of his robe as he walked, he crossed the small room and slid his cabin door open with one eyebrow raised.  

“Rita, is there something I could assist you--” He began with a slightly concerned tone (Rita had yet to approach him one-on-one, and he assumed that she held similar suspicions to the rest of the crew) but she was already off at a fast-paced whisper (for Rita, a regular volume a bit hoarser than her normal speaking voice).

“Mistah Ransom! I couldn’t wake anyone else up ya see, ‘cause Miss Vespa’s with Miss Buddy, and Miss Buddy said I ain’t allowed to wake her up before five anymore unless something’s on fire--”

“A wise injunction,” Peter muttered.

“--and I thought a settin’ something a little on fire, just a tiny bit, ‘cause it’s the boss, and this’s an emergency, but then I said, boundaries are important Rita--”

Peter went to sweep a hand dramatically down his face, then remembered his eyeliner, then remembered it’s the middle of the night and he’s not actually wearing eyeliner, and ended up fluttering his hand exasperatedly around his head.

“Perhaps you could tell me exactly why you’re here so we can both get back to our beauty sleep?”

 “Right! Well you know Mistah Steel’s been feelin’ sick,” she began, and Peter’s eyebrows drew together imperceptibly. As Rita began describing the food she’s been bringing him, returned uneaten, Peter nodded along and cast his mind over the past forty-eight hours.

Juno can’t be that ill, he would have noticed... Wouldn’t he?

Suddenly it’s difficult to tell how much Peter has written off when it comes to the new, softer version of the man he once knew. Juno had always been intelligent without even trying, confident, quick on his feet. Beautiful. Distracting. So when Peter woke up alone That Morning, he had to put Juno Steel in a box. A tiny, inconsequential box, where Juno was nothing special, and Peter could get out of bed in the morning.

It became increasingly difficult to keep Juno inside of the box when the real thing was living only two doors down, but Peter realized his desperate attempts to minimize the detective had made him ridiculously impartial.

When Peter could no longer pretend Juno was simply a bumbling fool, he chalked up the coffee spills, the small stumbles, and the misjudged distances to his missing eye.

The fatigue, the heavy clothing even in the sweltering climate of their last mission, the heat of Juno’s skin when he was playing drunk in front of their mark yesterday, and the way he leaned a bit heavier on the thief than he usually would-- it hadn’t occurred to Nureyev that none of these things could be attributed to loss of depth perception.

Peter frowned.

“--and you ain’t never sleepin’ much anyways, and the boss listens to you more than anyone else. Except me of course! And Captain Buddy. And when Vespa’s got her knife out she’s real intimidatin’--”

Listens to… Peter tucked the thought away quickly. For consideration in the very, very distant future. “I understand your concern, Rita. If Juno is refusing to take care of himself however, there’s not much we can--”

“Oh please, Mistah Ransom!” Rita cut in desperately, her eyes shining with… were those tears? “I’ve been real patient, but he told me he was feelin’ real strange just an hour ago and asked if I could get him some water and now he’s not answerin’ his door, and I could get it open myself, but what if it’s aliens, like in that one program, Aliens on a Spaceship--”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose.

The detective was likely sleeping off a bad cold and thinking little of the chaos he wreaked. He wasn’t worried... but Rita didn’t deserve this stress, and she probably wouldn’t be able to rest properly without an invesitagion...

“All right! I’m uncertain what you imagine I’ll be able to accomplish that you cannot, but if it will reassure you, I will… what exactly is it that you propose?”

Sleep was but a fleeting dream on the Carte Blanche, it seemed.

Rita broke into a face-splitting grin and latched one hand onto his wrist. The tears, he noticed, had miraculously gone.

***

Now, Nureyev is shifting awkwardly outside Juno’s door, balancing a tray of food in one hand and his pride in the other. He hears some shuffling from inside the small room and taps lightly on the aluminum panel.

Despite what he attempted to tell Rita, the thief is certain Juno will answer the door for him, no matter the hour.

“Juno, it’s me. Are you awake?”

...Which is why he’s surprised to hear silence in response to his greeting. He almost knocks again, but his pride won’t let him.

A child.  

“Juno, I think we’d all like to get some rest, and Rita is incredibly concerned about your well-being. If you could at least--” he’s cut off by a loud thump that almost startles him enough to flinch.

Rita jumps about a foot in the air. “Boss?!”

That’s it. Peter simultaneously sets the tray down hard and pulls a thin blade from the pocket of his robe to prize the door open.

At first glance the room is empty, but Peter’s already inside, skimming his eyes across the muddle of dirty clothes and dishes. Where, where, where…

There. The bathroom door is open, and Juno is puddled on the floor, still. (Again.) Peter’s chest clenches and he’s momentarily back in Miasma’s chambers, faced with a series of impossible decisions. No, no, no .

He can’t breath, Rita is saying something and pushing past him but there’s a ringing in his ears, and he’s frozen, useless, selfish, how did he miss this--

Someone bumps into him and Peter swings around to see… Jet?

Peter’s idol has gently shouldered him out of the way and is making his way towards Juno. “I’ll get him to the medbay so Vespa can check him over.”

The medbay? Peter’s brain is scrambling to catch up, to categorize the way Rita is calmly kneeling by Juno’s prostrate form, chattering quietly, and Jet is stooping to scoop Juno’s body up like a child, when Juno… groans?

Peter’s frozen as scenes from the past play out over reality. Juno bleeding, Juno screaming.

“M’ okay, just cold,” he complains, pushing weakly at Jet’s arms.

“That is because you have a fever and did not allow Vespa to treat you when you should have.”

“Boss?”

“I’m fine, Rita, I just tripped,” he fights to keep his eye open and fails, muttering, “I’m so goddamn tired.”

The words building behind Peter’s teeth burst out. “Fever? What are you--” he tries again, “How did you?” Fails again.

Jet shoots a curious look at Peter’s wild hair, his mismatched slippers, the expression lingering on his face before Peter quickly clears it. The large man cocks his head.

“The ship has thin walls, and neither of you have been particularly quiet. I alerted Vespa that we would most likely need her medical skills, and then arrived to offer my assistance.”

Rita tugs on Peter’s robe. “Mistah Ransom? Thanks for your help tonight, you can get your rest now. Ol’ Rita’s got it under control!” With that, she plods after Jet’s receding figure, leaving Peter in the doorway, still holding his knife and feeling useless. He flicks it closed.

A fever.

For a second, he had thought… well.

The adrenaline hits afterwards, like it always does, and Peter picks up the discarded food tray with shaking hands. He has every intention of taking it to the kitchen and then slipping back to his room (Juno doesn’t need him), but his feet start carrying him in the opposite direction, towards the medbay, instead.

After all, Rita subsists off of salmon snacks, they might need some real food. And Jet is kind, but lacking bedside manner. Besides, Juno and Vespa don’t get along very well, and what if Juno says something in his fever-addled state that sets her off?

Best to check in, if only briefly. Thoroughness is important in his line of work.

Upon nearing the medbay however, he’s faced with a choice.

“In or out?” Buddy is leaning in the doorway, watching a growling Vespa try to place a hydration patch on Juno’s arm.

“Lie still!”

“I don’t remember asking for your help!” Juno’s barbed retorts are less sharp than usual, his eye clenched against the light, but Peter relaxes a bit. Vespa does not.

“If you don’t pipe down, you’re going to need more help than I can give you!”

Buddy glances at Peter briefly. “Not being able to admit weakness can become a weakness itself.” The captain sounds disapproving, but a slight smile touches her lips. “He’s very dramatic, don’t you think? A fever and a cough and he’s got us all gathered around like it’s his deathbed.”

“In,” Peter decides, “I’m going in.”

“Tell Vespa I’ll meet her back in bed when she’s finished. Good night, darling.” In a sweep of colorful satin, she’s gone.

He places the tray of food on a small end table. Jet is nowhere to be seen, but Rita is watching streams on her comm from a chair pushed against the foot of Juno’s bed. Peter drags a chair beside her and sits.

Despite her earlier dismissal, Rita doesn’t look surprised to see him. Without looking away from her screen, she holds her bag of salmon snacks towards Peter. He takes one. It isn’t terrible.

Vespa has finished wrestling with Juno and is thrusting her equipment back into the cabinets with a bit more force than necessary.

Over her shoulder, she intones, “Looks like he might live,” and jerks her thumb towards a box on the wall, “unfortunately. Call me if his fever gets over forty again. The box will beep. Might be loopy between doses, suppressant is heavy, it’ll only release every six hours.”

And then there were three.

Juno is restless, somewhere between waking and sleep for the next couple hours. When he starts speaking under his breath, Peter leans closer to listen, and Juno rolls to face him. He cracks his eye open and Peter’s heart jumps...

“You... shouldn’t be here.”

And drops. Of course Juno doesn’t want him here. He made his apology, but the Juno Steel who fell for a lonely thief with too many names has grown up. Changed.

“Rita?”

“Yeah, boss?”

Peter turns to go, until, “Rita… when I fell. When I… in my room, I thought I saw Ransom.”

And he couldn’t move if he tried. Rita reaches for Juno’s hand. “Yeah Boss, he’s right there!”

“No, he can’t be, I fucked up… I fucked things up so badly Rita.”

“Nope, he’s definitely right over there Boss.” Peter turns to see a distressed look cross Juno’s face.

“Rita, he’s gotta get out of here! Make him leave, you both have gotta get out…” he trails off, his eyebrows pulling together. He’s flipping through time so quickly, Peter isn’t sure where each scene ends and the next begins.

“Outta where? I think the meds have got you all turned in circles, Mistah Steel.”

He sounds more uncertain now, growing fainter. “I can take it, I can keep going if I know he’s safe, if you’re safe--”

“But we are safe, Boss.”

“I don’t… I can’t remember. But Rita,” his voice grows urgent again, “please, you can’t let him see me like this! I wanted,” he’s quiet for a long time. So long, Peter thinks he might have fallen asleep.

But as he softly approaches the bedside, Juno finds his words.

“I wanted him to see me better.”

Peter reaches Rita’s side feeling a strange tightness in his throat. She looks almost motherly as she pats Juno’s hand.

“I think he does, Boss.” With that, she raises her eyebrows at Nureyev (aside from her hacking skills, he never thought of Rita as particularly intimidating until that moment), grabs her snacks and comms unit, and tells Peter she’s going to get some water.

She doesn’t return for the rest of the night.

Peter is left with a softly snoring Juno and no idea what to do with his hands. He takes a seat and rests his fingers as close as he dares to the detective’s curls.

“I do. I do see you better, Juno,” he whispers.

***

Juno wakes up an hour before the next dose, shivering and trying to pull Peter’s arm over him. It almost gives Peter a heart attack.

He pulls a blanket from a nearby bed as soon as he can extract his arm. Grabs a second one for good measure. His arm is burning from where it came into contact with Juno, and for a moment he remembers another night, arm flung haphazardly around the detective, skin burning.

He resigns himself to a sleepless night.

Two hours later, he’s woken by Juno kicking and flailing under the now-sweaty pile of blankets.

As he smoothes a damp washcloth over Juno’s forehead, Juno mutters, “No wait, Diamond, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve come home,” And oh the temptation to ask. Juno is feverish and lost in a past he’s locked away. As badly as he wants to unlock that past and spread it out before him in neatly ordered files that might give him an inkling of what makes up Juno, of who he’s supposed to be around this new Juno…

But he knows Juno would never forgive him if he took advantage now. So he is silent, stroking the cloth on Juno’s forehead. Biting his tongue.

When Vespa enters the medbay early the next morning, she wakes Peter with a snort. Somehow even her smugness is aggressive. After extracting his arm (again, damn it) from Juno’s vice-like grip, he wraps his robe a bit tighter and stalks out of the room, head held high even as he feels his cheeks burning.

***

“Over my dead body!”

“That can be arranged!”

Peter hesitates outside the medbay door, not sure he wants to walk straight into the crossfire. He’s managed to avoid Vespa and Juno’s battleground all day, but Buddy wouldn’t let that stand.

“I’m not taking your goddamn poison, Vespa!”

“Aw, I’m sorry, did I hurt your fragile little feelings? Would you like Ransom back?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your boyfriend was in here playing nursemaid all night,” Vespa growled, suspicion creeping into her voice. “Ya know, I’m starting to recall that neither of you ever did elaborate on where you know each other from.”

So Juno didn’t remember last night. He spluttered for a moment, but recovered enough to weakly retort, “Right, which you would know because… aw, Vespa, were you in here all night? I didn’t know you cared.”

“I couldn’t care less , I only know because--” Peter decided this was an opportune moment to interrupt. High excitement, bad for healing.

“Vespa! Tea, there you are, I brought a tray, is there anything else I could get for you?”

Juno was propped up, pale but coherent, and Vespa was standing over him, fists clenched. She whirled on Peter. “I don’t recall asking you for--”

“Excellent! I’ll leave it over here for your return. Buddy sent me with dinner for our patient, but would love to see you in the dining room. I trust that would be agreeable to you?”

For a moment Peter worried she might stay and argue, but with an exasperated “ fine ”, she turned heel and stalked off.

Faced with direct eye contact from a lucid Juno, Peter suddenly wished he hadn’t set the food down so fast. He needed something to do with his hands.

Juno broke the silence first, letting his head fall back on the pillows behind it. “Tell Buddy I can get my own dinner, you don’t have to trouble yourselves.”

Peter studied the detective. “It’s no trouble, Juno. You had us all worried,” he said quietly.

Juno scoffed. “I needed some whiskey and a good night’s rest, that’s all.”

“Rita was very concerned--”

This time Juno let out a derisive laugh. “Rita’s also very concerned about Greta Glamour and whether she’ll survive the robot ghost apocalypse next season. No offense, but she’s not the pinnacle of practicality.”

Peter knew Juno was being difficult on purpose. He knew he was embarrassed and picking a fight. He rose to the bait anyway, voice rising with each word. “You passed out on your bathroom floor because you couldn’t keep yourself upright! Jet had to carry you to that bed! Your fever was so high it was burning through your body and shutting it down--”

Juno cut him off.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset with me!” His voice became harsher. “No one wants to see you when you’re sick! No one likes you like that! It’s disgusting, it’s something you take care of privately, and why are you looking at me like that?”

Peter tried to keep his face neutral, but he felt his anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. It was obvious Juno was repeating someone else’s words. He felt a tug in his gut. Before he could come up with a response, however, Juno was talking again.

“God, Nureyev, I’m sorry, I completely went off at you. When,” he clears his throat and the words come out in a rush, “when I got sick in Hyperion, I just drank. Until I couldn’t feel it anymore. You’re right though, this was my bad.”

Peter moved to sit gingerly on the side of the bed. “No, Juno. It wasn’t your bad, or anyone’s bad. We all get sick.” He rested his hand on what he hoped was the general area of Juno’s knee. “We want to help because we care about you even when you aren’t at your best,” he caught Juno’s eye. “You don’t have to isolate yourself.”

Peter can’t help but feel a bit smug when he sees a deep blush rising up Juno’s throat. “Well I-- that’s-- thanks, I guess,” he grumbles. “But I’m going to get you sick too if you stay in here too long.”

“I think we passed that threshold last night, Juno dear.” He can’t keep the flirtation out of his voice any longer. It slips over him like a comfortable gown, hiding all his insecurities and doubts.

“What,” the detective deadpans.

“Speaking of,” Peter grows slightly more serious, “I wouldn’t hold a lady to the words she says while she’s in the throes of a fever, but you were apologizing. To someone, last night, quite distraught.”

Juno doesn’t break eye contact. His mouth opens a few times, as if he’s trying to shovel the right words out but they’re too heavy. At least for right now. The way he’s looking at Peter feels like a confession in itself as he says slowly, “Must’ve been delirious.”

“Well, the past is the past, and I say we drink to the future. Well, I’ll drink my tea, and you can drink the lovely medicine Vespa so kindly located for you.”

“Don’t push it, Ransom.”

“Or,” Peter stands to retrieve a bottle from the tray he brought in.

“Is that from Buddy’s private stash? You sly dog.” Juno lifts the alcohol appreciatively. The container is about a quarter full.

“Vespa’s, actually. I thought you deserved a bit of celebration since you missed the post-heist dinner last night.”

“Dangerous game, Nureyev. A toast?”

Peter lifts his teacup and says mildly, “To your health.”

Juno finishes half the bottle in a gulp and immediately begins spluttering. He rounds on Peter.

“Did you put medicine in a whiskey bottle?!”

“All the dishes were in the wash.”

“This isn’t a dish. This is trash.” The detective scowls deeply.

Peter only shrugs. “Rita saves them for something.”

“Rita--” Juno stops. Lets out a strange chuckle. Peter doesn’t inquire further, but the corner of his lips quirk upwards when he sees Juno sneak another sip and complain, “Vespa doesn’t even drink, damn it.”

I do see you better.

[calzona-ga]

Grey's Anatomy is making history once again. In Thursday's episode, Shoshannah Stern will guest star on the ABC drama as Dr. Riley — the first deaf doctor featured on primetime television. Riley is a diagnostician who comes to Grey Sloan to help DeLuca (Giacomo Gianniotti) try to figure out what's wrong with Suzanne (Sarah Rafferty), but friction occurs when not everyone on Suzanne's case agrees with Riley's methods.

TV Guide interviewed Stern via email about joining Grey's and how Dr. Riley is going to shake things up at Grey Sloan. The actress, whose credits also include Supernatural, Weeds, and her own show, This Close, also revealed exactly how she ended up on the show — bless cold medicine — and what she hopes viewers get out of seeing her groundbreaking character on ABC's No. 1 rated drama.

What brought you to this role and the world of Grey's Anatomy? Were you a fan of the show beforehand? Shoshannah Stern: DayQuil brought me to the show. I'm serious. I was getting ready to do a panel at the Television Academy with [Grey's showrunner] Krista Vernoff and suddenly broke out in a severe fever. My makeup artist was like, "Shoshannah, you are sweating profusely. You gotta take something." And I was like, "Oh, god." Because every time I take cold medication of any kind I become delirious. Then the next morning I woke up and realized in my DayQuil-induced haze I had pitched the idea of a deaf doctor on Grey's to her. I used to have dreams that I was a doctor on the show, so it wasn't out of left field, but it was also definitely something I would not have the guts to do if I wasn't juiced on cold medication. I guess I need to take DayQuil more often — but also probably not because that's not a great idea.

We've seen other shows like Switched at Birth tackle how difficult and traumatizing it can be for deaf patients to go to a hearing hospital, but it's rare to see the reverse. What was it like to play a deaf doctor in the power position and actually being able to help people? Stern: We explored that in the first episode of the second season of This Close too! I actually called it our Grey's Anatomy episode while we were shooting it because I love the show that much...It was really super refreshing to be able to play someone on the other side of things. I think I may have enjoyed being in that power position a little too much because Jesse [Williams, who directed Dr. Riley's first episode] pulled me aside and was like, "Maybe make her more confident" and less arrogant. But I mean, I've been literally pushed by people who didn't realize I couldn't hear them, condescended to, and patted on the head like I'm a cute puppy. It was awesome to be able to return the favor a bit in that moment, so I was feeling it.

Often when we see deaf characters on TV, the focus can be on how their lack of hearing puts them at a disadvantage. Does being deaf actually help Dr. Riley as a diagnostician in any way? How so? Stern: Oh, definitely. A big problem with the medical industry, as I personally see it, is that they separate the medical issue from the person, rather than looking at the whole person. In the research I did for the character, I found that deaf doctors are more likely to humanize their patients because they've grown up with people looking at them like they were pathological problems. Patients also felt deaf doctors were actually better at communicating because doctors often come in the room looking at files and checking machines, so they never really look their patients in the eye. So much is missed because they're only listening with their ears.

Deaf doctors don't do that. They look their patients in the eye and listen with their whole bodies. They also know how to ask the same question several different ways because that's how a deaf brain works, you're always translating back and forth between written or spoken English and American Sign Language. They also encourage patients to advocate for themselves and make conscious choices with their care plan rather than having one standard diagnosis for each and every person.

Dr. Riley isn't coming into just any hospital — there's a lot of egos at Grey Sloan. What is her relationship going to be like with DeLuca and Meredith as she comes in to consult on this case? Stern: While all of them certainly have very healthy egos, I think they have different sorts. DeLuca's comes from his need to prove himself because he's tired of [being] seen as less than. Meredith's, well, I mean, she's Meredith Grey, so she's entitled! Riley's is a different one than we might have seen before because I think it comes from her constantly being underestimated. So, she has much less of an investment in what other people think or say about her. But I think what both DeLuca and Meredith don't realize is just how keenly she observes things. It's going to be revealed just how much she actually picks up on, and she's not going to be afraid to pull what she knows out of her bag of tricks. That's going to lead to a dramatic, even volatile shift in the dynamic between the three [of] them as it currently exists. I think the audience might not see it coming. I certainly didn't!

What are you hoping to show viewers who see this episode and might be ignorant that there are deaf doctors working and thriving in the medical field? Stern: On a basic level, just that they exist. They are out there, and they are real, and they bring very special skill sets to the table. I think on a deeper level people don't know what they don't know, until they know. It really isn't as complicated as people think it is. One thing that a lot of deaf doctors said was the more they explained things, like that they were deaf and how they would communicate, the more confusing it was for the patients. So a lot of them learned to show rather than tell. Once people saw how they did things, it didn't seem complicated anymore. Trying to educate people about who you are and what you need is sometimes the most exhausting part about being deaf, so I'd love to think that Dr. Riley could help with that on some level.

[sweetcatmintea]

Lemon and Ginger and All That

@hannahs-creations very kindly provided a random four word prompt to make into a drabble. Thanks for the prompt! Sorry it took a hot minute to write <u<;; 

I hope you enjoy this little scene ^u^ Feedback is appreciated!

Prompt:  vitality, manage, fluster and gleefully

Words: 1768

Characters: Marcos, Whitney, Freddy (Briefly), and Mella

          Chaotic didn’t cover the state of the 6pm Café. Freddy’s promotion idea went over so well last fortnight, people were practically lining up to see what they’d do to the menu this time. The apple and elder-flower brew did not disappoint. Perfectly refreshing in the warming days of early spring, with a gentle aroma that transported you to the countryside, apple picking with your gran. Light, crumbly, pastries and tiny finger sandwiches sold almost as quickly as they were prepared. Every time a happy customer left, two more would arrive. That may be a little dramatic. It certainly felt like facing the hydra of the food industry at least. Marcos and Freddy were run off their feet greeting customers, taking orders, brewing tea, selling dry blends, answering questions, transporting food, and trying to squeeze in spot cleans. Uncle Antonio hopped between the register and the kitchen, saving Leroy from the flood of demands.

          What terrible timing for Whitney to have to skip out. Although she complained about it, she lived for the busy days like today. She loved to get lost in the hustle, while still managing to find a sense of order and co-ordinating the boys. Marcos had never seen anyone more determined not to take a sick day. When the first thing Whitney did that morning was bolt to the bathroom to re-evaluate dinner, it was clear there was no avoiding it. Regardless of how it went down, the result was the same. Whitney was stuck at home while the boys played the service edition of the floor is lava. (Or would that be the customers?)

          Marcos’ mind was a blur of orders and customers, but he didn’t let himself lose track of time. As soon as the hour ticked over, he tagged out. Of course, he checked that Freddy and Uncle Antonio could manage without him first. Not wasting a second more of his lunch break, he slipped into the backroom, tore off his uniform, replacing it with a change of clothes he’d prepared earlier, and was gone.

          The walk to their house was made significantly faster by running. Marcos was at the painted off-white door in record time. The plan to catch his breath while he fiddled with his pockets looking for his key met a hitch when he couldn’t locate it. Briefly panicking that he’d left it at the café, Marcos tried to calculate how long it would take to run back to get it, would that take too long? It didn’t fall out while he was running did it?? He’d have to go and find it before someone else did. Should he just risk waking Whitney and asking her to let him in? Ah but she won’t get better if she’s no- wait a minute. There it is. False alarm. Fishing the key out of the depths of its fabric prison, Marcos let himself in as quietly as possible. If he was careful, he should be able to avoid the creaky floorboards.

          “I cab ‘ear ‘ou.”

          Never mind. He followed Whitney’s raspy croak to the living room, still mindful to tread lightly. She was huddled on the couch, cocooned with blankets and half draped over the arm of the chair. Mella, taking the role of mother hen, sprawled over Whitney’s tracksuit clad legs, incubating her just in case folding herself into cotton origami wasn’t enough. Fever was obvious, painted over Whitney’s sweaty face, interrupted occasionally by loose strands of hair. She hadn’t even bothered to tie it back. Even in illness, she was an over-achiever.

          “Were you asleep?” He tired to keep his voice soft despite its gravelly texture. Judging by the way the radio was on, but turned down to its lowest possible volume, she probably had a headache. He wondered briefly if she was resenting her rabbit hearing at the moment.

          Whitney shook her head, waving his worries off. “I was ju- uh- aacho!” Another balled up tissue in the over-stuffed bin. “I was jus’ dyin’g apparendly. No, I was listenig do the mid-day stories. Whab are ‘ou doin’g ‘ere?” Mella whined and wiggled closer to Whitney’s flushed face. She was supposed to be resting!

          Marcos shrugged. “I got you some tea. Give me a second, I’ll make it for you. It’s called, uh, ‘Vitalitea’ and it’s got lemon and ginger and all that. Should hopefully make you feel better.” It couldn’t make her any worse at least. Red eyes and streaming nose, it was almost painful to see her so far from her bubbly self.

          Whitney had always been good at reading people. Just because she was unwell didn’t mean she couldn’t see the crease setting into Marcos’ forehead. He was always so busy worrying about others. The demand he not pity her fell away to the realisation of what he’d said.

          “You cabe back jusd ‘o bake tea?”

          “No. I’ll get you some lunch too.” He wandered off to the kitchen to get started, entirely missing the touched shock he left her in. According to his calculations, he was still on track even after stalling to get into the house. The majority of making food was just waiting for the tea to brew. It took next to no time to make a sandwich or boil water. While the tea was brewing, he grabbed a brush and a hair tie, returning to the sick bunny.

          Seeing her face a tiny bit more flushed made his stomach twist. Was it really okay for her to stay here alone?

          “Can you sit up? I’ll put your hair up since I’m here.”

          Whitney sighed dramatically but wiggled her way to a sitting(ish) position, much to Mella’s disapproval. “Leab me here to die. I’b not lon’g for thid worlb.”

          “Nah, I think we’ll save ya Cottontail. You know Freddy and me’ll be lost without ya at the café.” He chuckled, combing the brush through her long, long, hair. She tried not to think about how his breath tickled her ear, sending tingles down her spine.

          “I tolb ‘ou nod do call be that.” She huffed. Her mock anger easy to see through. It she’d really wanted him to stop, he would have done so immediately. “You’re righbt tho. You do neeb me. Who else can stob Fred’dy frob gleefully bestering beople on dates?”

          “He’s not even here and you’re picking on ‘im?”

          “I’b allobed to. It’s by twind given righbt.”

          “Can’t argue with that.” Marcos’ hands worked quickly, twisting the strands into a roughly uniform braid. Whitney may have preferred a bun, but that just wasn’t in his skill set yet. As he worked, his own auburn curls wiggled loose. The ponytail must’ve come undone on his way over. He probably should just cut the shaggy mane, but he liked the feeling of it brushing his skin.

          Whitney released her arm from the blanket burrito to playfully tug a strand. “You’re kinba a bess. Whab did ‘ou do, rub the whole bay?”

          “Yup.”

          His steady gaze caught her off guard. “Waib, really?” Whitney’s pink cheeks shifted much closer to a shade of red, causing Marcos’ brow to furrow. It didn’t help that she only seemed to heat up more when he pressed his hand to her forehead. She must’ve been really unwell, even her usually pale rabbit ears were tinted rose.

          “Hold on. I think your tea should be ready.” He vanished back into the kitchen, retying his hair as he went.

          The butterflies in Whitney’s brain were certainly just sickness making her dizzy. Nothing else. Mella stared at her. Judgementally. It wasn’t her fault her dumb heart was fluttering. Her pop rock pulse was obviously not her buzzing with giddiness. Of course she didn’t have a crush on Marcos. It didn’t matter how thoughtful he was, or how he made her feel special and appreciated with no ulterior motive. His gentle presence was just a part of him being Marcos. Falling for that would just be… well, it would be… Okay. She couldn’t lie to herself. Frog toes. It wasn’t the plague she’d managed to contract that made her face glow when he touched her. His concerned expression flashed across her mind. The tiny tilt of his scruffy eyebrows, the amber that almost glowed against the dark lines that always seemed to line his eyes, the way he looked at her. Oh dear, she melted into a goopy mess. Stars Above, she had Feelings for the scraggly hare. She had to compose herself. Pondering whether he felt something for her too would have to wait until he was gone. Working herself into a fluster was less than ideal. Upon the realisation, Mella smiled at her, in the way dogs do. If Whitney didn’t know better, she’d think Mella could read her mind. Why was she being so cocky? As if she figured it out first! Whitney’s mental rambling was interrupted by Marcos bringing in her lunch.

          “Here. I put honey in the tea. It’s s’posed to be good for sore throats? Mum used to do that for me, honey and milk I mean. Should help you too.” His ears twitched self-consciously. Sure it was common knowledge that honey was a good soother, but he still felt the need to explain himself. Maybe because Whitney almost always preferred not to sweeten her teas and he hadn’t forgotten that. Whitney smiled, still too pink for his liking, thanked him and took a sip, evaporating his worries.

          “There’s some medicine if you need it, and a bottle of water for later, y’know, so you don’t have to get up again… I’ve gotta head now or I’ll be late back. You gonna be okay?”

          “I’b a big girl, I’ll be okay.” She took another sip. “Than’gs fo’ this. I abbreciate ib.”

          “Not a problem. Just focus on betting better.”

          “Oh byeah, before you go, there’s somb faze wibes in by roob. Take theb with you to geb rib ob the sweat. You brobably smbell.” To make certain she wasn’t being overly sincere, she poked her tongue at him.

          “’course I do. I’m healthy so I can still breathe through my nose.” Marcos grabbed the wipes and darted out of the door before he had to face her faux fury.

          It took a sprint, but he made it back to the café with just enough time to clean up and get re-dressed. He was tired as anything and had forgotten about his own lunch in the process of it all, but still found a spring in his step for the rest of the day. It was nice to think he might’ve made her feel a little better.

 ----------

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@inkovert and @snobbysnekboi

[randomoranges]

Oranges as Peace Offerings

Oranges as Peace Offerings

 Étienne pushed back his lunch tray and let out a disdained sigh. He had no appetite, the food did not even look interesting and he wasn’t even sure why he bothered. In fact – he wasn’t sure why he had bothered with anything at all. It was another one of those never ending city conferences and he had been quite willing to send Élyse off in his place, but he had been specifically requested and told to attend, or else. He didn’t know what was the point and knew before he even left that it would be a complete waste of time, but he’d prepared his work, packed his bag and gone off like a man sent to the gallows.

As he’d come to expect from these things, every time he tried to give his opinion or present his own work, he’d been shot down, interrupted or completely dismissed like the irrelevant footnote he’d become. Once upon a time, he would have been insulted, now he no longer cared. He knew it would happen. It always happened. It’s why he sent Élyse. She cared enough to fight. He’d given up on these meetings some time towards the end of the past century. He’d given up once he’d realised that there was no point – that no one cared enough about his own trials and tribulations – that these meetings were just some other excuse to vent and show off – to either come out of them boasting and feeling good or desperate and at wits end. He was only sorry it had taken him that long to realise it.

Instead he focused on other things – things that mattered and were of interest to him and he passed on this role to Élyse who was only too pleased to get a chance to prove her self to the others. She liked it. He got peace of mind. It was a win-win situation. Until he was obliged and forced to attend. There was a time, recently, when he fell through a lapse of motivation – where he’d tried again, new energy coursing through him – where he’d actually tried to change and propose and interact and build – maybe it had to do with his upoming birthday, maybe it had been a fevered delusion. In any event, it hadn’t worked, his motivation had vanished and nothing had changed. It was better not to get involved. There was no point to it. He was a relic of the past and some of his so called “colleagues” and “peers” and “similars” loved reminding him of it.

Normally, when he was forced to attend these things, he played a very careful role. He sat through, pitched in his token comment here and there and entertained the masses when they were granted permission to be normal for fifteen minutes. He made it worthwhile for those who wanted and warmed up the beds of those who sought him out. He didn’t mind. It was an easy role to play. He was used to it, and, honestly, it wasn’t all that bad – made it almost worthwhile for him as well. While others poured their energy over presentations and conferences, he went out to explore the town, found good places to eat and mingled with the locals. His cultural appetite would at least be satisfied even if his brain half rotted.

But he did his best to keep busy and armed himself with a sketchbook to stay awake as he sat through one meeting after the next. He doodled through conferences, through appointments, through discussions and he was aware of what some of his “colleagues” said of him, but his doodles were also summaries of what was going on around him. It was his way of taking notes. Of keeping a log of his waste of time. It was his own way of being informed. He was often discredited – rarely thought of as the intelligent or attentive type and he did nothing to counter those opinions, but in his own way, he was.

It was better to play dumb and to fulfil the role and persona the others had painted him. It was better to keep a low profile and his head lower still.

It was less exhausting when no one expected anything great from you.

His intent with this Official City Meeting had been the same – to waltz in, do his thing, and waltz out in a flurry of bedsheets and clever jokes, but his heart hadn’t been in it. Winter had seemed longer than usual (but wasn’t that the case every year? Wasn’t last winter just as bad? As cold? Colder? And the one before that?) and he felt drained and bone tired. He felt physically and mentally exhausted. His body was heavy. His mind seemed unfocused and not for the first time he found himself wondering what the point to any of this was. Why he bothered. Why he even tried. The thought of fucking off to some remote island seemed more appealing with each passing day. An island that didn’t remain so bitterly cold for so long. Somewhere where he could just be and maybe sit under a shaded tree all day long while the sun warmed his cold, dead soul. The idea was nice.

He’d gone to this meeting out of moral obligation and had sat through, but he paid little to no attention and his hands remained still on the desk before him. He looked but did not see. Did not feel. Did not want.

At the first sign of a break, he had gone his own way, avoiding the group of his so called friends who were going to eat at some restaurant they had heard great reviews about. Étienne could have gone anywhere else. He could have even convinced his so called friends to go elsewhere. He knew this city well and had scoped out its lunch scene many times before, but he wanted peace and quiet. Solitude. Imposed isolation. He wanted to be alone.

He’d found the cafeteria and asked for the special of the day – whatever that may be. That’s how he’d found himself, sitting, alone, willing time to go by so that this day could eventually end, glaring at the tray as though it was personally responsible for his foul mood and everything that wasn’t right with the world. He could have forgone lunch all together. He could have had a quiet smoke and called it a day, but logically, in the deep recess of his mind, he knew it would be best if he made an effort and ate something – anything – but he was done with efforts. They never paid off for the likes of him.

Étienne was absorbed in his own thoughts, trapped in his own head and he failed to take notice of the environment around him. If he’d been paying attention, he may have gotten up and chosen a different place to sit, but since he hadn’t paid attention, he didn’t notice when Edward approached him and only realised the other man was there when Edward sat in front of him. It figured this would also happen.

Normally, Étienne would have thrilled to this private audience with Edward. A rare moment where they could be together and talk – catch up – exchange – make fun of the lame ass presentation they had sat through. But like with everything and everyone else, Edward had changed. Now he cared about this shit and Étienne had done enough damage that he wasn’t about to dig another foot in his own grave. Edward wasn’t outwardly avoiding him. It was already that much.

But he didn’t feel like talking to Edward. Didn’t want to speak with anyone, let alone Edward. And Edward had once upon a time been very perceptive of his moods and able to read him in ways that had scared him, but it seemed that skill had been lost over the last couple of years, for Edward remained there, seated in front of him.

“Shouldn’t you be out to lunch with the others?” Edward broke the silence, clearly trying to make small talk and Étienne wanted to hate him a little more for it. It felt forced. It felt like a check-in and an obligation. Their friendship had never been any of those things. Their friendship had been long and meaningful and fulfilling.

“Shouldn’t you be out to lunch with the others?” He retorted, his tone cold – he could regret it later. Later, when he would try to sleep and his mind would replay every one of his failures of the past three hundred odd years – it could be tonight’s special feature.

“Forgive me I asked.” Edward snapped. For a moment, Étienne believed Edward would leave. He’d tried to interact. Étienne had shot him down. He could make a checkmark next to his “attempted to be nice to the Footnote” and move on with his life. Return to the “in” crowd.

Instead Edward stayed.

Edward sat with his fists clenched and his jaw set, but he stayed.

There was a storm in Edward’s hazel eyes and everything about his posture said he was upset, but he stayed.

Étienne forgot what a stubborn old goat Edward could be.

He almost laughed.

Almost.

“I guess the old saying is true, after all,” Étienne started, tentatively, knowing that if he wanted to keep Edward around, he would have to start this conversation first. Edward remained quiet, but he looked his way and quirked an eyebrow, giving him permission to go on, “Misery does love company.” They were both silent for a moment – a while – and Étienne thought it would be the end of that exchange, but then Edward surprised him with a laugh – more of a chuckle or a startled guffaw that bubbled out of him.

“You don’t say, Maisonneuve.”

This was easy. Or at least, familiar. This type of exchange. This allusion to their murky pasts and daily personal struggles. Pointing back to their faults and flaws through self-depreciation. They’d done it before. They used to be kings at this old game. Edward seemed to be moving on from that. But it still worked.

“What are you really doing here?” Edward asked him, a little softer this time, and for the briefest of moments, Étienne thought Edward was referring to the meetings – that he was telling him he didn’t belong in these anymore – that an old relic like him should stay out and let the relevant ones attend, but then Edward motioned at his tray and he relaxed. “I didn’t take you for the “special of the day” type of guy – especially not when it’s egg salad and blob surprise,” Étienne shrugged. He didn’t know. He didn’t know why he was here and he didn’t know why he’d gone for this less than stellar meal.

He didn’t know where he’d gone wrong. He didn’t know why he’d lost everything so quickly. He didn’t know why it had taken him this long to speak to Edward. (And did this even really count?)

Edward gave him a look that could have been described as fond exasperation, or maybe it was just a good eye roll, but he pulled the tray towards him and stole a baby carrot from his dish. Étienne tried to protest but it wasn’t like he’d been eating any of it, “You’ll never change,” Edward said and wasn’t that the truth of the matter? Wasn’t that why he was still here with his same old issues from forty years past? Why he’d still be here forty years from now with the same problems? Would he ever move forward?

“You need to eat something,” Edward reached for the orange on his tray and started peeling it.

He hated oranges.

Well, no, that wasn’t a lie. He didn’t hate oranges. But he didn’t love them either. Too much work for very little reward. He had to dig his fingers into the rind, work his way in and peel it away, piece by piece, get his hands dirty and sticky, remove the white skin and string and then hope that the orange would actually taste like something and that there wouldn’t be any seeds.

It wasn’t worth his time.

Many things were not worth his time.

Maybe there was a pattern to this.

Étienne watched as Edward meticulously cleaned out the orange.  He watched Edward’s gentle hands and deft fingers slowly and meticulously move around the orange. Étienne had known those hands rather well. Knew how they trembled ever so when he was nervous, knew how warm and loving they could feel on his skin. Knew how uplifting the smallest of caresses from them felt. Edward removed the rind in almost one full piece and then separated the orange into two halves, some juice squirting out, but Edward didn’t seem to mind. He sectioned off each piece and then slowly removed the white skin and the string until the slices looked almost photo ready. Étienne wondered why Edward was going through so much trouble, until he placed the pieces onto the tray and pushed it back towards Étienne, “I know how finicky you are with your oranges,” He offered, a shy, kind, playful smile playing out on his face.

Étienne blinked. He had not expected this. Had not expected Edward to be this kind. Not to him, anyways. Not after their fall out. He took a piece and placed it in his mouth before chewing down on it carefully, juice and flavour exploding in his mouth. It was a really good orange. He had not expected that either.

“Thanks,” He said when his mouth wasn’t full. Edward shrugged this time, as if it was no problem. As if he hadn’t done this millions of time beforehand. In a past that sometimes felt like some fever dream. Edward shrugged as though there was nothing to it and as though he would willingly do this for Étienne millions of other times. As though he would willingly do it all over again.

But Étienne knew better.

Silence engulfed them once more as Étienne meticulously ate his orange, piece by piece, slowly, as if he was giving each slice its just moment – evaluating each one – comparing it to the previous one. He took the moment to discreetly observe Edward. Edward looked good. It seemed he had finally grown into himself. As though this new role he had stepped into was just for him. He looked more confident. It was a really good look on him – as if he had found some sort of peace with himself and his past. Étienne wondered what that could be like.

He’d been a fool. A right old fool at that. And now he found himself in uncharted waters.

He’d gone and fallen for Edward’s easy charm and warm smile. Fallen for his witty remarks and sharp sense of humour. For all his little idiosyncrasies that made him so unique and special to his eyes. Edward was (had been? Was?) one of his oldest friends  and modern technology had allowed them to develop an intimacy unparallel to what they had known for so long. For decades and centuries they had exchanged letters, waiting for weeks and months on end to hope for a response and Étienne had kept each and every one of those letters. They were placed in chronological order, protected and archived for his own personal perusal. Sometimes, he read them over and glossed his finger over the careful words Edward had written. They’d kept it up when the telephone had made its appearance, more out of habit than anything else, but it had felt familiar. They’d grown closer and had defied the imposed distance of their lands to be together – carved out time for one another. Étienne had believed that this would be it. That together, they’d face this hell they’d been thrown in.

It hadn’t worked out. Obviously.

By the time he’d calmed down and figured out on what foot to dance, too much time had passed and deep down he’d been hurt and upset that Edward hadn’t reached out. Every day that passed made it ever so harder for him to jump back – to pick up from where they had left off, until the gap grew bigger and bigger until a maelstrom stood where the roots of their friendship had once been. But Edward was one of his oldest and most cherished friends.

Étienne had had his fair share of lovers over the years, but few very close friends. And he’d realised that above everything else, the one thing he really and truly missed was the easy friendship. He missed Edward his friend. Missed being able to talk to him about anything and everything. Missed the crazy adventures they went on. Missed how easy it was to breathe when he was around him. Missed hearing Edward laugh without restraint.

He’d be okay never having another one of Edward’s kissed.

He wouldn’t be okay never being able to be with Edward ever again.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” For a moment Étienne thought for sure that he had imagined Edward speak, but the small flush on his cheeks was enough to tell him otherwise – maybe Edward still knew how to read him like a book after all, “I should start heading back, break is almost over,” Étienne nodded and Edward got up, took a step in the other direction and then paused, hesitating, “You don’t have to be such a stranger, you know?”

Étienne pondered those words long and hard, wondering what they could mean, “Maybe I’ll write to you, then.” He ventured and Edward laughed, maybe a little sad, maybe a little empty.

“Maybe you can send an e-mail, if ever you wanted to get an earlier response,” Edward left him with those words and Étienne was left pondering them. Maybe he would take Edward up on that offer. Maybe he would send a postcard, just to change things up. But maybe he would send that e-mail.

Maybe it would be a hint that he was changing as well.

[margsld]

Outlander Epi 3.10 Recap

Heaven and Earth.  What I’d move to have a day on set with Caitriona Balfe.

Luke Shelhaas is the writer credited to this episode and IMDb tells me he produced on shows such as Smallvile, The Good Wife and Law and Order too. An interesting mix.  I like the arc of this episode surrounding Claire and Elias Pound. Pour yourself a brandy & grab your tissues. A big box.  No, not the cheap ones.

Thickly in the honeymoon-stage, Fergus not phased with the fact there are no shops on board the Artemis, coaxes the ship’s cook Mr Murphy to give him some Potpourri ingredients.  He wants it to eradicate the Au de Bilge that is assaulting his love’s olfactory senses below deck.  I don’t know how that is even an issue, when your sense of smell would have curled up and died 3 days into their journey, with some 40-odd smelly, unwashed sailors at close range.  It nonetheless amuses Milord  to be witness to Fergus’ aka Pepe Le Pourri antics but secretly, he wished he’d thought of it first. 

Always do your research Fergus!

They are suddenly distracted by the Porpoise setting sail into the sunset with Mrs Fraser still firmly on it, trying to stem the spread of the deadly Typhoid Fever.  Cue the action music, this is f*cking intense!

Jamie is not happy at all and shouts demands to the Artemis crew to give chase.  Captain Reynes however, is surprisingly not happy with Jamie pretending to do his job.  He’s starting to think Jamie really is bad luck, having started the journey to rescue this young kinsman Ian and now they have to rescue his missus.  The man is a ginger storm in his teacup. Next time he’s going to check every passengers back-story before agreeing to take them anywhere.    Meanwhile, Jamie doesn’t hear ‘No’ enough so gets rough with Reynes who promptly sends him to the Lido deck aka sail-jail. 

Jamie, Jamie, Jameeeee.  Ask yourself, what would Ross Poldark do? 

On the Porpoise, Claire has the able-bodied men Dettoling the ship within an inch of it’s life.  To help her get on top of the fast-spreading disease, Captain Leonard has enlisted a 14 year old lad called Elias Pound to act as gopher.  Having been at sea since he was 7, he’s very knowledgeable, efficient and Claire is impressed by his can-do attitude.  Can we keep him?

As Claire wades through a tsunami of vomit and poop, the spread of Typhoid Fever rages on.  She must find the source or no one will survive at this rate.  She checks where patient zero started by going over the last surgeon’s notes.  Claire narrows the search down to a man called Howard who is now working in the Galley and goes to have him removed. She comes up against the Gordon Ramsey of the seas in doing so and you can safely say they will never be making a buddy movie together.  Claire is never one to waste a moment though....

On the Artemis, Fergus brings Jamie some food and sees he is now nauseous again. Fergus tries to calm his farm by soothing Jamie with assurances that Claire will be ok as she can’t get the fever.  Jamie points out that yes, that is a good thing however, she is surrounded by lots of men.  At sea.  Lots of men sailors at sea, far from Hoor-houses.  Gulp. 

Jamie gets an idea & hatches a plan.  He tells Fergus to steal the keys to get him out of his cell. Then, they will start a mutiny and go rescue Claire.  Ta Dah!Simples!

Fergus slaps his forehead emoji and tries to reason with Jamie who perhaps has inhaled too much bilge gas.  He is also stressing over losing Claire again, especially as he only just got her back.  Jamie gets the Hulk-cranky with Fergus which is hard to watch.  It’s like Jamie is kicking a puppy.  When Fergus continually refuses his ginger-hair-brained-scheme, Jamie pulls out his Ace card and says he’ll bless the union of Fersali if he sets him free.  The man has an evil side, I swear.

It’s no Comedy Cruise on the Porpoise.  The latest round of dead sailors are being sewn into their hammocks ready for a sea burial.  Claire watches as Elias sews the shroud to his dead friend’s nose (to ensure he is dead). Yip, that would wake me from the dead!  The ceremony is respectfully formal and ends with the sounds of bodies entering water while the crew recite the Lord’s Prayer. 

Later at night, Claire is looking out to sea trying to find her zen when she is approached by Chef Cheerybritches.  He has a go at Claire as he does not believe she is helping at all.  Before he can get too sinister, Elias arrives and tells him to leave off.  This lad is a rock-solid legend.

Elias asks Claire how she can keep so calm in the face of such calamity.  She explains how she has learned to compartmentalise her emotions so that she can get her job done.  Surviving Black Jack Randall and living with his twin for 20 years will sprout special skills, I imagine, in anyone. 

Because he is a sweet child, Elias offers Claire his lucky rabbit foot.  I can’t understand Claire accepting it at all.  This was the last thing his mother gave Elias and Claire taking it, when she’s inoculated against the fever is odd.  Another reason to love Elias.  Like we needed one.

Claire is called below to tend to Mistress Johanssens husband who they suspect is the latest Typhoid victim.  Claire finds he’s not come down with the fever as first thought but has nearly drunk himself to death with pure alcohol.  Out of utter frustration, she swears so loudly and colourfully that even the sailors blush.  She asks Elias to watch Captain Johannsen overnight so he doesn’t choke on his own vomit.  Annejke looks ready to kill her silly hubby too!

As Claire leaves the goat pen, she notices a Portuguese flag lying in a corner and asks Mr Jones where it came from.  He said they’d come across a Portuguese frigate a few weeks ago.  Claire asks if it was called the Bruja but Jones wasn’t sure.  He suggests she go ask the Captain.  Claire anxious of any news of the boat that has Ian, goes in search of Captian Leonard.  She finds his office empty so goes to his log book to see if she can find the name for herself.  She finds the entry and the boat they encountered was called the Cackador or something like that (sounds like they had a bout of Typhoid too lol), sadly, it’s not the Bruja. 

Instead of leaving, she nosies through the book a bit more and comes across a familiar name.  Jamie Fraser.  Who’s he again?  Umm, oh the dude I married... That’s right, now I remember..... Claire is shocked to read that a Harry Tompkins has identified Jamie to Captain Leonard, when they first boarded the Artemis.  Poo & double poo.

The door opens and startles Claire.  At first she thinks it’s Captain Leonard but soon sees its the Cranky Cook.  He knows she’s up to no good and Claire tries to leave but he corners her like a hungry panther.  He says he’s not a fan of her and knows why she is here.  Claire threatens to tell Captain Leonard he assaulted her, if he doesn’t get out of her way.  He knows she has the upper hand so lets her go.  Claire, rattled by the confrontation, leaves and knows she must hurry and find this Harry Tompkins. 

Marsali bathes Fergus’ stump as they discuss Jamie’s terrible and highly dangerous plan.  Marsali points out if Fergus also lands in the slammer, she’ll be left on the ship defenceless. 

One thing leads to another when they realise no one is watching them. Marsali is all for taking things to the horizontal disco deck but eventually Fergus stops her and says he wants to wait until they are properly wed.  Awwww, we don’t blame Marsali at all.  Fergus is pretty hawt.

Elias returns to Claire looking very tired after watching Mr Johanssen all night.  She asks if he knows a Harry Tompkins but he says he doesn’t know everyone on crew.  Claire lies that he might be another source of the virus and to tell the men she wants to see him as soon as possible.  Then noting how tired he looks, she tells him to get some sleep.  He’s so tired he can’t even blink anymore.

On the Artemis, Fergus checks out the possibility of maybe accessing the keys but instead overhears the captain and crew being unchristian about them and saying they’d like to get very friendly with Marsali.  He quickly leaves before they find him eavesdropping.

Claire is sorting through her medicines when 2 men struggling with another come bursting in with Elias in tow.  They’ve found Harry Tompkins. Claire recognises him as Sir Percival’s Excise henchman that burned Jamie’s print shop to the ground.

Claire clears the room then asks him what he knows about Jamie.  Harry confesses he recognised Jamie on the Artemis and told Captain Leonard Claire was his wife.  Claire is holding a big bone saw and he knows it’s to threaten him but tells her she can kill him if she wants.  He’d actually thank her, as he is miserable on this boat. 

He explains that instead of being rewarded for telling Sir Percival about Jamie’s treason, he got pressed into working on the Porpoise and is now surrounded by the dead and dying.  A man has limits!  His modelling career is now well and truly over..... 

To Claire’s horror, he also adds that not only do they have Jamie on treason, but they have Jamie up for a murder charge too. They found the accountant thug from episode 7 inside the barrel of Crème de menthe. 

Harry also says that as Capt Leonard has designs on captianing his own ship permanently, then he’ll gladly hand Jamie over to the authorities in Jamaica to put that feather in his cap.  They’ll wait for him in Kingston, dangle her like a carrot in front of his nose and then he’ll be hanged.  You know, we’ve been through this before Claire.  The ginger is repeating on you!....

You sure you don’t want to pop on a Turtleneck and go back through those stones now?

Claire sends Harry to a cell, convincing him the Cocktail trolley will be along shortly.  As she leaves, she tells him not to get too close to Howard (in the cell opposite) as he really is the source of the fever.  Harry retreats to the furtherest point of his space like a chicken dropped into the croc enclosure at Australia Zoo.

Claire goes to see Annejke and even though Claire helped her husband feel better (language barriers suck) she gives her a gift of cheese.  Instead of looking over the cheesy-moon, Claire looks down.  Annejke is ace at body language so asks Claire why her face looks like her favourite goat just died? 

Claire explains her husband is a total trouble-magnet and they bond over the joys of husbands who cause them grief.  Sing it Sista!

Finally Annejke says ‘she help’ as 'Her goat’s needs grass’.  Claire exhausted out of her mind, is confused how that is of any use to her right now.  Annejke senses Claire is a bit thick so says louder ‘my goooooaaats neeeeeds grrraaaaassss’, (i would have popped in with some hand gestures here Annejke, like pointing to goats and pretending to eat hay but Annejke seems confident that saying it louder will make Claire understand.) 

C’mon Claire, its code for ‘I’ve got a bloody good plan but I’ll share it with you when the time is right’.  Annejke is crap at codes.  Claire is completely lost so we’ll blame lack of sleep.  Instead she smiles, waves awkwardly and leaves the nutty cheesemaker to her fun.

Fergus visits auld tantypants again to tell him he didn’t get the keys.  Jamie isn’t happy to learn it’s by choice and not illchance that he is still locked up. Fergus objects as Jamie is being le totes not le fair.  Fergus explains that Jamie hasn’t heard the nasty talk on deck and Fergus needs to be around Marsali at all times to protect her.  Like now.  Yoohoo, Fergus where is she now? 

Blind with missing his Sassenach, Jamie ignores common sense and is very angry at Fergus for not trying his mission impossible.  Thankfully, Fergus remains as stubborn as a Fraser and even at the risk of not getting his blessing, will not go down that rabbit hole. You tell him Fergy Ferg. 

Jamie tells Fergus if he was really in love with Marsali, he’d know what Jamie was experiencing.  Jamie, ye great lump of misery, Fergus knows mate. 

Open yer eyes.

Finally the vomiting, groaning and begging for a quick death has stopped on the Porpoise. Claire is sooooo relieved. All the men are celebrating with a happy song and it inspires Claire to find Elias.  She can give him back his lucky rabbits foot now the danger has passed.  Where is the wee cutie-pie?  

She wades through the singing men to find Elias on his hammock and stops just short, her grin slipping from her face.  His arm is covered in sores.  He has Typhoid or a bad STD?  Most likely Typhoid!

Why didn’t the other lads bring him to Claire? Poor darlin’. 

Elias is delirious and when Claire calls his name, he turns his head and asks ‘Mother?’ to which she heartbreakingly answers ‘Yes, it’s mother, it’s time to come home’ then you see her stroke the bridge of his nose between his eyes, which I did to my children when they were babes sleeping and....well.....

* insert half an hour of FUCC. (Full Ugly Crying Constantly.) 

Can we just pause a moment to appreciate actor Albie’s lips! Damn they are pretty. Sorry, got sidetracked there.  Where were we?  Oh that’s right.

Elias died. 

We have seen Caitriona Balfe act some pretty tough scenes during the last 2 seasons but this moment with Elias getting sewn into his shroud - just about killed my tear ducts.  She sobs as she gives him back his rabbits foot by tucking it under his lifeless wee hand and that releases another dam of tears for her and us.  Even Captain Leonard’s little stubborn chin wobbled a bit. 

Can we pause again to applaude the brilliant Albie Marber on a wonderful character but mostly a shout out to the award givers. Cait deserves endless accolades for this right here. Bravo!

Ps. That last photo is a reminder of the happy times.  Focus on that. Lets hug it out.

Later at the back of the boat, after a stiff brandy Claire is blaming herself for missing Elias being sick right under her nose.  Captain Leonard points out that while yes, it was a sad loss, they only had one death today and no new cases.  Hooray!

Claire in full negative-Nelly mode, points out they are nearly out of drinking water too.  Captain Pubescant says it’s okay though as they’ll get to Jamaica soon and be toot sweet. 

At this point in the book, instead of Captain Padewan talking to Claire as above, it was actually Lord John Grey who pops his head out of his cabin and sympathises with Claire over the loss of men.  John has witnessed many a man dying in the soldiering he’s done.  He never appears anywhere else during their boat trip as he was warned to lay low in his room while a plague killed the rest of the crew.  John and Claire would have met for the first time, not realising who the other really was.  I missed this innocent path crossing but alas.  It was not possible when filming due to minor plot changes in the adaptation process.

After Captain Leonard leaves Claire to sulk some more, Annejke and her husband come to tell her the great news......They’ll be arriving at the Grand Turk Island tomorrow so they can get fresh water and yes, grass for her goats ie get off to warn Jamie of his doom.  Claire finally sees the opportunity Annika meant earlier and has her Ah-Hahhh moment.  Oprah would be proud, Claire.

The next day they anchor in an uninhabited part of the island where Annejke’s goats get some sweet, sweet grass.  Ay, mon. 

A small party including Claire go on the beach to get supplies.  With Annejke’s encouragement, Claire breaks for it and legs it into the hills. We think she’s going great until she runs straight into Captain Leonard and two guards.  There ensues some very bad lying on Claire’s part as she swears she was just searching for herbs.  Captain Leonard knows she’s fibbing and says he can’t let her escape to warn her husband.  Claire pleades with him to turn a blind eye but the stubborn jerk says nah, yeah but nah, can’t do that.

Captain Reynes and Marsali come to see Jamie.  Marsali reassured the Captain that Jamie will behave if he gives his word to stop rattling Reyne’s cage.  Reynes is not one to hug it out and instead tells Jamie he really needs all hands on deck as they will soon be navigating between islands.  Marsali tells Jamie that he’s lucky Fergus arranged this release with the Captain.  Jamie snorts and says it’s not for him but for her that Fergus did it.  Marsali gives him ‘the look’ that women know instinctively when dealing with fidiots and retorts with ‘you have no idea mate and if you think that for realz, she will leave him there’. 

Commensense finally wins and when he’s free, Jamie who has had time to let Marsali’s words sink in, tells Fersali that they have his blessing and they will be wed in Jamaica by a real priest when they can. Squeeee!  

Annejke leads Claire to the back of the Porpoise.  No they are not high, she points to the lights on shore and says for Claire to jump, the water current will take her to the beach.  Then she can save Jamie.  Claire refuses and says she’ll drown but Annejke shows her the raft she’s made for her.  

Eventually, Claire realises she will not be getting another opportunity like this again and needs to take the leap of faith.  We all hold our breath as she lingers on the edge and then she jumps. The Baddass.

The End.

[c-valentino]

Lighter Next To Your Coffee Mug XII

They sat in a little Vietnamese restaurant, her choice, at a small table in the last corner, his. They had ordered, and then chose to ignore the awkward small talk in favor of briefly discussing next week’s team schedule. When the food came Allison changed the topic.

  “I agree this will be a little awkward, Minyard, but humor me. Why the rent boy? And I’m not even talking about this,” she held up the file, “piece of …work,” she checked herself. “It’s not like you are ugly. Yes, you are –let’s say complicated, for argument’s sake, but there are far worse guys out there who get by without paying.”

  She handed him the file, which he put to the side. He wouldn’t read it here. Andrew would have preferred to do this at home, but she had insisted. “I’ll cover this up for you but not the next one. So be careful.” His face was as impassive as a marble statue. Allison sighed. She took another bite of her summer roll and decided to change tactics again.

  “You are just listening because I brought you the file, I know. But seriously, did you see the interview with Knox and Moreau? The fans love it. Fuck the homophobic douchebags out there. There are enough people who’d willingly tear them to shreds. They’d make you look tame in comparison, Andrew. If you’d just play nice for the media…” He gave her a look. “Okay, fine, I’d like to have my own gay Exy couple to sell. Can you blame me? It sells.” Apparently, his food was more interesting than her conversation.

  “Is this going to be one of those conversations where you don’t speak a single word?” She got no reaction out of him this time. “You know what? I don’t care. I talk enough for the both of us, and I still speak Minyard fluently.” That one was a lie. He let it slip. She knew it too, because she stopped talking for a little while and finished her dish.

  “Why did you never make a move on Kevin?” Allison didn’t look up this time. Her tone had dropped to a more serious note, which told him that they had moved on from gossip girl to personally invested ex-teammate. “You like him. Don’t tell me you don’t. You’ve spent too much time with him, it’s so obvious.”

  “I wonder what Thea would have to say to that conversation,” he scoffed. It was the first thing he’d said since the food arrived.

  “Thea?” There was real amusement in her voice, which made his cá kho tộ taste bitter all of the sudden. “She’d be the least of your problems, believe me. She actually asked me if there is anything between you two. Seems like she doesn’t trust Kevin to tell her the truth.” Andrew glared at his plate. “Is he not your type?”

  “Kevin suffers from a condition that makes him seriously unattractive.”

  “What?” she asked, bemused and eager to hear it.

  “Exy brain.”

  She laughed at that. “That’s also your ticket into his… wherever you would want to go. All you need to do is to talk Exy to him. That’s all it takes, apparently. At least if you believe Thea.” He was done with this topic. Kevin was no one he allowed into those kinds of thoughts. He had been basically inseparable from the guy for years. There had been only two options:  keep Kevin completely out of any kind of fantasies and stick a huge, metal warning sign with KEEP OUT written on it in front, or go all the way. There had been no room in-between for him. 

  “Gross.”

  “I think he’d be good for you.” He didn’t look up while he reached for his wallet and left enough money on the table to cover the bill. “See you, Andrew,” she told him and he left without another word, the file in his hand. He had what he came for.

  He lit a cigarette as soon as he stepped outside. Good for him, she’d said, Kevin… He inhaled deeply and frowned at the cloudy sky. No, he decided, he wouldn’t go down that rabbit hole. Kevin was many things to him, and maybe ‘good’ was on that list, but that didn’t mean he would change anything between them and risk it all. It also didn’t mean he would be good for Kevin.

      “You did good.” Neil received a loving pat on his ass before his client finally got up, disposed of the condom and vanished into the bathroom of the hotel room. Neil rubbed his cheek against the bed sheets until his black blindfold slid upwards. Some clients wanted him to stay still until he was finally dismissed. This one didn't care either way and had actually watched him once before escaping his bonds, leaning against the doorframe, saying nothing while admiring the view.

  Neil’s wrists were tied behind his back with a zip tie. The scissors to cut them lay on the bedside table. Neil preferred zip ties above any other kind of restraints because he could break them without much effort by himself, no matter if they were tied in front or back. Duct tape was fine too, and could be escaped by the same technique. Neil could pick the locks of handcuffs without seeing them. Lock picking in general was a skill he had acquired early in his life. Ropes on the other hand, ropes could be nasty things. Depending on the material and skill of the one tying them, they could be pretty much impossible to escape from without assistance. Neil avoided them whenever he could, in fact, he charged extra for bondage and only allowed it with long-term clients.

  He shook his head to get rid of the blindfold entirely. What worried him was that lingering weakness in his limbs he couldn't get rid of all day. Getting out of bed this morning had taken some effort. He was almost sure he was coming down with something. He hadn't told his client. Maybe a dick move on his part, but quite frankly, Neil didn't give a shit if he gave the man a common cold or a sore throat. He could get that everywhere and Neil had bills to pay.

  He waited, lying on his stomach, until his client returned and cut his restraints. The back of his thighs burned when he sat up. They were angry red but it would fade soon enough, leaving no mark behind. His client got dressed without another word. That was normal. Once they were done this man never wasted many words. Neil thought he was still replaying the scene they had just done in his head and didn't like to be disturbed doing so. He was more than okay with that. Neil hated any kind of aftercare. He got dressed without bothering to use the bathroom or clean up in any way. All he wanted today was to get paid and go home. He could take care of everything once he got there. He was tired.

  The man in front of him handed him his money, as usual, in a blank, regular white envelope. Neil counted it briefly, but he knew he was being paid the amount they had agreed on. This was one of his regulars. They exchanged a look and a nod and it was Neil who left first.

  The elevator seemed to take ages. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache. Neil sighed. Getting sick was always a problem. He counted himself lucky that he had never come down with something serious. He had his fair share of minor infections and other smaller injuries though. He took care of them himself whenever he could, avoiding physicians and hospitals as much as possible.

  Please, let this be just a cold, he prayed to no god in particular. If there was someone up there watching him, he was some kind of a sadist and Neil didn't require any more of his special attention if possible.

  He wasn't surprised that it was still raining outside. It had been raining all day. It still sucked. He needed to get something to eat on his way home after skipping the grocery shopping today. He wasn't hungry, but he also wasn't a fool, and he knew he needed to eat. Maybe he wouldn't be able to tomorrow if he had caught some kind of stomach bug. Those usually sucked. He settled on Subway for tonight and hurried home. Another thing that had bothered him the last couple of days was the feeling of being watched. It could be his paranoia catching up again, but Neil wouldn’t dismiss it so easily. He kept looking for someone following him, for anything unusual, but he found nothing.

  The sandwich ended up on his kitchen counter while Neal dragged himself into his bathroom. All he wanted to do right now was to lie down, but he knew that once he was on his bed, he wouldn't get up anymore tonight. He stood in front of the sink, took his contacts out, took some Advil, and stepped into the shower where he scrubbed himself clean twice.

  Back in the kitchen, he managed half of his sandwich before giving up and going to bed early. He pulled the covers up over his shoulders and shivered. Great, he thought, definitely going to be sick in the morning.

   He woke with a pounding headache and a sore throat. He tried swallowing a few times, but it made no difference. Neil put a hand over his eyes to block out the light. Staying in bed sounded like a great idea. His headache couldn’t be ignored though. Slowly, Neil got up and shuffled over into his bathroom. He looked like shit when his eyes looked back at him from within the mirror. Bedhead was an understatement and his paleness wasn’t the flattering kind, neither were those dark circles under his eyes. He swallowed some painkillers and leaned in closer to the mirror. His auburn hair was showing at the roots again. He needed to take care of that. Neil brushed his teeth in hope the minty toothpaste would ease his sore throat a little. It did not. He relieved himself and made it back to his bed.

  Sleep kept eluding him for the next two hours, even after his headache had subsided. He felt tired though and didn’t get back up until it was past noon. Assessing his condition again, Neil got dressed and decided to get the grocery shopping done now, in case this would turn into more than a sore throat later. He had made that mistake once before and would never make it again. Being barely able to get out of bed with no food at home for three days, while suffering from crippling paranoia had been a terrible experience. He hadn’t even dared to order something to eat back then, his mind had been too hazy from fever dreams.

  ‘Help me,’ had never been on the tip of his tongue. ‘I’m fine,’ was his personal mantra. It was way easier to accept than ‘I’m alone’.

  He dressed in warm clothes beneath his jacket and left his apartment. Almost immediately the feeling of being watched returned. He lowered his head and walked faster. Behind him a car started, but he had not heard the driver getting in. Neil glanced backwards and saw a black Audi with tinted windows pulling slowly into the street behind him. Shit! Suddenly, the next corner seemed impossibly far away. Neil kept walking for a few more paces, but the car didn’t speed up. They knew they had been noticed. Worse, they knew where he lived.

  Neil’s feet hit the pavement in a sudden burst of speed. He ran down the street, around the next corner, down two blocks, left again when he reached the old church and behind it the run-down school. He climbed the fence there and kept running. Teenagers were turning their heads, calling after him, but he didn’t stop. The fear and sudden rush of adrenalin kept his legs moving but not for long. He was sure he had gotten rid of the black Audi, when his knees buckled and he had to catch himself on a wall, panting. Shit, shit, shit… Where should he go? He felt like throwing up, was sweating and couldn’t catch his breath.

  Don’t do this now, he told himself. If he was losing his shit now, if he would give in and let the fear take over, he wouldn’t make it. He would bolt and run blindly like he used to years ago. Get a grip! His feet started to move again, slower this time, with his knees shaking a little. Every face turning in his direction felt like a threat, and he kept walking. He found the next subway station and took the next train. He didn’t care in which direction it took him. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he kept moving for now.

  He switched trains again and again, made it halfway across the city and changed directions again. He knew he was being paranoid while he kept looking for suspicious faces among the passengers. Neil got off at a random station with no other goal in mind than to escape the people who had taken the same subway as him, who had entered the same time he had and not gotten off again. He couldn’t stand being around them right now, they made him nervous. It was dark outside when he exited the station. Neil had never been in this part of the city before and felt suddenly lost. It was irrational, of course. All he had to do was to take the train back.

  He found a bench and sat down, thoughts still racing. How had they found him? Could he be sure it was them? Who else would it be? But why would they follow him if they already knew where he lived? It made no sense. Had he made a mistake? Had he overreacted? No, no, thinking that was foolish and dangerous.

  His hand reached into his pocket for his phone to check the time. Almost seven. Without thinking, he went through his contacts until he found Andrew. Just looking at his name felt comforting for some reason. Neil waited for a few minutes, but it didn’t feel like he could get up and leave right now. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled forcefully. His chest felt tight. His thumb hovered over the call button. It took him a long moment to give in, and some part of him hoped Andrew wouldn’t pick up.

  “What?” Neil closed his eyes as Andrew answered his call. He opened his mouth to say something, but his brain came up short of a reply. There was an awkward pause while both of them waited for the other to speak.

  “Neil?” Neil took a shuddering breath and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

  “You know, that’s the first time you called me by my name.” He tried very hard to keep his voice even. It ended up sounding flat in a way that rivaled Andrew’s tone.

  “Is it?” Yes, it was, he was sure of it.

  “Hm?” He just wanted to listen to Andrew’s voice for a little longer. He didn't want to be alone right now.

  “Your name?” Andrew asked. What? He hadn't believed him back then? Was that the reason why he never used it?

  Neil managed a pathetic sounding laugh. “Yeah. It is.”

  “Where are you?” He wanted to tell him. He wanted to see if Andrew would come and get him, but he knew he couldn't do that. He had nothing to offer right now. He needed to go home and figure it out. Sitting outside in the middle of nowhere wouldn't help one bit. It would only trigger his panic attacks and then he would really be in trouble.

  “Don’t ask.” There was silence then. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to call. Really, I’m fine. Forget it…” He was babbling, he realized. With something close to panic, he hung up. It took him another hour to get home. The car was long gone but he hurried inside nevertheless.

     Andrew’s next message woke him early Tuesday morning. ’tonight?’ The goalkeeper must have been on his way to an early training session. Neil had hoped to feel better by now, but that hope had dwindled and left him with the harsh reality. This was not just a cold. He was sick.

  ‘Can’t make it this week.’ He had planed to text Andrew this morning, but the Exy player had beaten him to it. ‘Sorry,’ he added. He got no response for hours and drifted back into sleep. By the time Andrew did text back, he had not expected him to anymore. It was already late in the evening.

  ‘can I come up?’ It was the same message he had sent Andrew when he had shown up at his apartment unannounced in the middle of the night. Neil wanted to say no, for more than one reason, but it was because Andrew used the exact same question that he felt bad about refusing.

  Neil sighed and coughed and made a face when it hurt like a bitch. He was not one of those people who preferred to suffer for the entire world to see. He was the exact opposite. Maybe Andrew would be satisfied to see him and leave afterwards. Neil didn’t think he would have the energy to face the man tonight. He texted his short reply to Andrew and got up, taking a moment to get rid of the dizziness.

    Andrew could tell by Neil’s guarded expression that the man wasn't thrilled to see him. He could also see by the hand that grabbed the doorframe for support, the old t-shirt and sweatpants he was wearing, and his more than pale face that he felt like crap. Andrew took it all in and something must have shown on his face because Neil furrowed his brows and managed to look as much annoyed as pained as he finally let go of the cracked-open door to reveal the rest of himself.

  “…o…ease, ’t’s just strep throat,” he croaked, the first words unintelligible.

  “You sure about that?” He meant it like ‘you look half dead’, mocking, not in a worried, caring way –well, maybe a little.

  “Yeah,” Neil sighed and Andrew got the impression that it wasn't the first time this had happened.

  “Can I come in?” Not what Neil had expected, he figured out, when the man looked at him in bewilderment. Newsflash, I’m not here just to make sure one of your tricks hasn't beaten the shit out of you.

  “Suit yourself.” Neil turned around and left the door open. He went straight back into the main room of his studio apartment and sat down on his bed, leaning slightly forward and grabbing the simple wooden frame with both hands, eyes staring at the floor in front of him.

  Andrew closed the door behind himself and looked around. Small hallway, bathroom door to the left, shoes right next to the door, and an Exy racquet leaning against the wall. Backliner, on the heavier side, well used but still in good condition. The single room had an antiquated kitchen unit to the right, Neil’s bed stood in the corner to the left, his Exy gear lay next to Andrew at the door on the floor, a DIY clothing rack hung from the ceiling next to it, and a metal drawer stood right next to that. End of story. No table, no couch, not even a rug on the old hardwood floor. The place was clean but managed to look beyond run down. Andrew was intrigued.

  His main object of interest still sat on his bed, was still looking at the floor, as if waiting for the verdict. “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “Not yet.” Meaning he wouldn’t; after all, he had diagnosed himself already. Fool. Andrew leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He could hear Neil swallow with some difficulty through his swollen throat, could imagine the pain it caused. Strep throat, not exactly one of his favorites either. He had it a few times when had been a kid.

  “So you relish any kind of pain.” He went over to the kitchen unit and looked inside the fridge. Almost empty, no empty takeout containers in sight either.

  “What?” Sounded like Neil wasn't his witty self today and had trouble following the conversation. “No,” he finally answered, a little annoyed maybe. A sick Neil was a grumpy one, Andrew decided. Not the only one he knew of that kind. He closed the fridge again.

  “Go back to bed,” he said and turned, leaving the room and Neil behind, closing the door.

   An hour later he was back, managed to wake Neil again, and repeated their meeting upstairs at the apartment door.

  “Now what?” Oh yeah, definitely grumpy while sick. Andrew simply raised his chin, shoulders squared and waited; watched Neil caving and stepping back again. So easy.

  “Catch,” he told him, as he passed him on his way back into the kitchen. Nice reflexes, he noted when Neil caught the box of Penicillin he had aimed at his head.

  “Where did you get that?” Suspicion, really now? He had told the guy he was using drugs, but Neil frowned at Penicillin?

  “Not from your doctor,” he scoffed. Andrew found three glasses above the sink, filled one with water, and brought it over to the bed.

  “Thanks,” the taller man managed to find his manners. Andrew waited until he had taken the medicine and took the now empty glass again. He grabbed a few strands of black hair, palm pressing against Neil’s forehead and pushed. It didn't take much force until Neil tilted and fell back onto the bed, grunting in protest to be manhandled like that. 

  “Lie down.” Slight fever. Andrew went back and washed his hands, then searched for plates and forks so he could split the Chinese takeout between the two of them. Maybe not the healthiest choice, but he had felt like it. And Neil –well, beggars can’t be choosers. His host wasn't exactly chatty today anyway. Andrew doubted he would complain. He brought the two plates and the refilled glass back to Neil and raised an eyebrow. The young man lay on his back, one arm draped over his eyes, one knee raised, naked toes curled and gripping the bed sheets, cheeks flushed, goosebumps on his naked forearms. Andrew blinked. He couldn't figure that one out, he realized. Embarrassment? Shame? Maybe, he wasn't sure why though.

  Neil noticed Andrew had been staring and lowered the arm to look up at the goalkeeper. He noticed the plates and accepted one, sitting up in the process, propped his back up against the wall and tugged his legs in to leave room for the other man. Andrew ignored that and sat down in front of the bed on the floor. He placed the glass next to the bed, out of the way, but still in reach for later and started to eat, facing the strangely empty room.

  What was he doing here, he asked himself. This wasn’t why he had come here. The reason he had come was the file in his apartment, and the unexpected text telling him that Neil didn’t want to see him this week. Running away, he had wondered. And what had been the deal with that last phone call? Well, the man was obviously sick but he didn’t strike Andrew as someone who would ask for help. No, he thought, this guy would suffer in silence.

  He took the now empty plates and put them aside. One look at Neil told him, that the man was more than uncomfortable with him being here. He didn’t say anything, but he kept that glare fixed on his face. Another broken rule. Well, Neil had that one coming from when he had shown up at his apartment before.

  “So hostile. I just fed you, you know?” Neil lowered his gaze at that, staring at his blanket. His response was unintelligible due to another coughing fit. It looked like it hurt quite a bit. “Could be mono,” Andrew observed. Could be a lot of things. Coughing didn’t usually present that severely in strep throat infections. Neil shot him another angry look between coughs.

  “Told you it’s strep,” he croaked. It almost sounded like he needed to convince himself the most of all. Why? Afraid it might be something else?

  “And a cold? Whom did you fuck recently? A walking cesspool? Did you charge him extra?” Andrew was getting annoyed. He had kissed this guy recently. Granted, that had been three days ago, and he should have noticed something by now, but still.

  Neil sighed and leaned back again, one hand covering his eyes. “I might have been outside running,” he admitted. What an idiot. And how did he manage to look so miserable all of the sudden? How annoying. Andrew watched him for a while, saw his throat working and the feverish color rising in his cheeks, saw the nervous tension in his body that could have only been caused by having someone he didn’t trust around in his state.

  “Yes or no,” Andrew asked in a low voice, hand hovering in the air above Neil’s head. No friend of words today, Neil gazed up at it for a moment, then turned his head and leaned into the touch. He sank back into the pillow once more, and Andrew’s hand followed him, fingers playing with black strands of hair. The gesture had pleased Andrew. There was no real trust between them, but Neil was willing to risk it for him, even if they met outside their business arrangement. Or was this part of his scheme?

  After a few minutes, Neil turned around to face the wall. Neither of them spoke, but Andrew was about to pull his hand back when Neil reached up to grab it, glancing over his shoulder. He didn’t touch Andrew’s hand but waited, and Andrew closed the gap and moved his hand up into Neil’s waiting palm. Closing his eyes again, Neil pulled Andrew’s hand back down on top of his head and squeezed once before letting go. Andrew humored him once more. Odd, crossed his mind, and it took him a moment to place the thought. It was, he realized, the fact that Neil trusted him enough to bare his back to him, something Andrew would never do. But not everyone was like him. For some people trust came easy. He just hadn’t thought Neil would be one of them.

  There was nothing sexual about this, yet it felt awfully intimate. Andrew hadn't been keen on any physical contact after the disaster in his living room, he realized; apart from the kiss in the parking lot, and that had been mostly anger and frustration. They were back to square one, him touching Neil, and the other man waiting for permission.

  Andrew was lost in thought, running his fingers through Neil’s hair over and over, until the young man shivered again. “Cold?” Neil shook his head. Then what? Andrew thought about that strange picture of Neil lying on his back again.

  After a while, the taller man turned around, squinting at Andrew. “I don’t mean to kick you out, but I really don’t think I can stay awake much longer.”

  Andrew stood up. The file could wait another day or two, he decided. Neil didn’t look like he would run away any time soon. He turned to leave, when Neil sat up. “Andrew.” The goalkeeper waited. “Thank you.”

  “Shut up and get some sleep.”

     To say Neil had felt uncomfortable with Andrew around would be an understatement. No clients at home –don’t think about it. Not now. You got bigger problems right now. The visit of the goalkeeper had left him in a strangely vulnerable state of mind.

  He had woken up in the middle of the night, imagining that he had heard something –no, someone inside his apartment. No one had been in his kitchen/living room/bedroom, which had left him with the small hallway and the bathroom. He had grabbed his Exy racquet from beside the door to hunt down his imaginary intruder in his tiny apartment. His fever had spiked, but Neil knew all too well that his mind was capable of playing tricks on him even on his best days. Feeling exhausted, he had slumped down onto his bed again with his Exy racquet by his side. It was still there.

  The feeling of not being alone hadn’t left him afterwards. More than once, Neil had carefully looked outside the window to check for the black Audi. It hadn’t turned up again. Maybe they had gotten rid of it. Neil didn’t dare to turn on the lights anymore.

  Andrew’s text in the early afternoon made him jump. ‘still alive?’ A sigh of relief escaped him and Neil rubbed a hand over his pale face.

  ‘People don’t die of strep.’ Texting with Andrew made him feel calmer immediately. It made him feel like he was not alone. As much as he hated the thought of visitors, now that Andrew had broken that rule he wished the man would come by again. It was very unprofessional of him to think so, he admitted.

  ‘idiots who run in the cold might. did u put that theory to the test again?’ He would if he could, Neil knew, not for exercise though.

  ‘No.’ The walls were closing in. He hated that feeling. ‘How was your day?’ He had Andrew’s permission now to make this a little more personal, right? He honestly didn’t know anymore what was going on between them.

  ‘r u bored’ He frowned down at his phone.

  ‘Are you driving?’ There was nothing for a while. Neil closed his eyes, but kept the phone in his hand.

  ‘what’s for dinner’ Right, he should eat. The thought of leaving his apartment was anything but appealing.

  ‘Haven’t decided yet.’ Maybe he should order in.

  ‘tick tock says the clock’ Was he asking him? ‘cut the not eating crap already. it’s getting old’ Really? Neil felt a sudden rush of excitement.

  ‘Your choice.’ He shivered a little, and it wasn’t entirely because of his illness.

  ‘30mins’ Right. Time to get cleaned up a little. Grabbing a change of clothes, his second sweat pants and his black knitted sweater, Neil took a quick shower.

  Half an hour later, he opened the door for Andrew. The goalkeeper regarded him with a scrutinizing look. Neil knew that he didn’t look his best at the moment. For someone who’s looks were a huge part of his job, it wasn’t a comfortable thought.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” he answered automatically. “Come in,” Neil offered, more to escape Andrew’s eyes for a moment than to be polite. Andrew passed him by and Neil could hear him inhaling a little deeper. The taller man blinked. “What…,” he asked, a touch of nervousness in his voice.

  “Last time was the first time I hadn’t met you fresh out of the shower.” Neil closed the door and followed Andrew.

  “That’s what happens if you show up unannounced,” Neil answered unapologetically.

  “I thought it was a hooker thing –but maybe not.” The blonde put two pizza boxes onto the kitchen counter and looked at him again. Neil sighed. Andrew calling him a hooker again squashed his rising mood.

  “It’s not,” he agreed. Those hazel eyes looked at him piercingly. Neil wondered for a moment if the goalkeeper had taken something again, but his pupils looked normal. Judging the room to be too dark, Andrew flicked the light switch on. A wave of uneasiness swallowed Neil and he fought hard not to let it show. He buried his hands in his pockets.

  “Lies should hurt, Neil. The truth only hurts when you have something to hide.” His eyes widened as he heard Andrew say those words. He swallowed, ignored the pain it caused him. Andrew saying his name would take some getting used to. Andrew calling him a liar was nothing new, and the goalkeeper thinking that he needed to rub Neil’s face in his precious truths wasn’t either. The combination of all three made Neil feel uncomfortable.

  “And here I was, thinking we could leave the hooker thing out of this apartment. That’s what you get if a john comes to visit, right? Silly me.” He tried not to sound too indignant about it. Andrew grinned and wagged a finger at him.

  “Oh, Neil,” he mocked. The taller man narrowed his eyes.

  “You know, that name will wear off if you use it so much all of the sudden.”

  “It’s yours, right?” Andrew crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  “Yes, I’ve told you. That’s my name. You don’t like it or something?” Why could they never get along? He had looked forward to seeing Andrew tonight and now they were already taunting each other again. “Whatever,” he said, before Andrew could reply. “I’m a little irritated today.” He would take the blame this time. It was his peace offering.

  “I couldn’t tell,” Andrew joked. He nodded at the pizza. “Hungry?” No, Neil thought. He had been earlier, but he wasn’t feeling hungry anymore.

  “Let’s eat,” he agreed nevertheless. Since his place lacked most of the usual furniture, they sat down in front of his bed. Andrew led by example, seemingly avoiding Neil’s bed, and went once again over to examining the room while they ate.

  “It’s nothing like your place,” Neil said, “but what’s so interesting? I don’t get it.” There was nothing really interesting here, he thought. The only thing he’d regret leaving behind would be his Exy gear if it came to that. It probably would; most likely sooner than later now.

  Andrew shrugged and finished another slice. “Fits you,” was all he had to say. Neil took a deliberate breath in and out through his nose. An empty apartment fit Andrew’s assumptions of a hooker, most likely. He didn’t ask. He pushed his half-eaten pizza away.

  “How was practice,” he changed the topic, drumming his fingers on his leg.

  “The usual,” the goalkeeper replied, not trying to keep the conversation alive.

  “Tell me about it.” Neil fidgeted a little. He could hear a car stopping in front of the house, heard the doors opening and closing. Immediately his thoughts jumped to a black Audi.

  “A bunch of people running behind a ball across the field, swinging sticks around.” Andrew sounded bored. He left his last two slices untouched and pushed the pizza box away.

  “Sounds awesome to me,” Neil said, but his usual enthusiasm when it came to Exy was painfully missing. The words were empty, his mind miles away. Andrew didn’t say anything this time, declaring the conversation dead. He might actually leave now, Neil realized. He didn’t want that. The whole evening had felt full of tension. He didn’t want to guess what it would feel like to be alone again now. 

  He was getting nervous. The feeling was driving him insane. The urge to run wouldn't leave him anymore and he could do nothing about it. His own body wouldn't let him, and he felt the panic rising again.

  “Can I ask you for something?” Even asking permission was difficult. He avoided Andrew’s eyes.

  “Go ahead.” Andrew seemed curious. Neil made himself look up and face him, because even though he felt pathetic, it didn't mean he wanted to display it openly.

  “Can we go somewhere? Can we take your car and just get out of here for a while?” He felt close to begging at this point. Andrew looked at him, trying to figure something out, and Neil couldn't take it right now. “Ask me to do something in return, just, please, Andrew–“ He winced but Andrew had noticed.

  “I hate begging.”

  “Sorry. I know, I…” He ran a hand through his hair. Stop babbling, he told himself. Andrew kept watching him. Neil couldn't tell for how long. It could have been minutes or seconds, he just tried to keep himself together in front of the man, tried to stay calm and fight the panic down.

  “My turn,” Andrew said suddenly and Neil flinched.

  “Not right now,” he managed weakly. He couldn't do this right now. He wouldn't be able to dodge any important questions.

  “Tell me why you are afraid.” Andrew ignored him.

  “Andrew,” Neil said pleadingly. He felt cornered. There was sweat trickling down his neck. It erupted on his forehead and temples from his pores and his heart was pounding.

  “Who are you running from?” The goalkeeper showed no signs of pity. His voice was as flat as usual but suddenly cold instead of uncaring.

  “Andrew,” Neil whined. This was a nightmare; Neil tried to tell himself it was just another nightmare. But then, why was his stomach hurting and why was his chest getting tight and wouldn't let him breath? No, that wasn't right. He was breathing; he was getting close to hyperventilating already. He had lost the race; the panic had caught up. He needed to get out. He tried to get up, tried to get onto his feet but Andrew wouldn't let him. He tried to fight him, but that was impossible.

  “Get out,” he tried to scream. His voice cracked. He was going to be sick. Saliva was already pooling in his mouth. “Get away from me!” He gaged and pressed a hand over his mouth with a choking sound. Now Andrew let him up and watched him stumble across the room, watched as he barely caught himself on the doorframe, before his legs gave out under him, and he half crawled, half stumbled the last two steps into the bathroom.

  Neil knew this was a panic attack. It wasn't his first one and it wouldn't be his last. He would make it through it, but it didn't feel like it right now. It never did.

  While he was on his knees in front of the toilet, vomiting and gasping for breath, he heard Andrew entering the bathroom behind him.

  “Who’s gonna kiss you now?” There were tears and sweat and snot on Neil’s face, and he could do nothing about it right now. It was hard enough to stay upright. Andrew’s mocking words could have cut him to the bone, but he just felt numb. He could barely pay attention to them anyway. He thought Andrew should feel like a threat, standing behind him, watching him, but he didn’t.

  “Tell me you are fine again, come on. Hate to break it to you, but your blanket of lies is full of holes. You have to work on that. You know, I enjoy your little lies, as long as they are creative.”

  Andrew was angry with him. It registered somewhere in the back of his brain.

  “Maybe we should play another game. No one is allowed to tell the truth anymore. You would be a natural, I’m sure. Or we skip everything relevant all together and just have small talk all the time. How about that? The weather is great, isn’t it? Looks like you didn't enjoy your dinner today. Too bad. You know, those meds won’t do you any good if you can’t keep them down.”

  “Shut up,” he gasped, trying to stop himself from throwing up again. It hurt. It was just too much. “Fuck…” Andrew stood to the side, watching him, keeping his distance but not leaving either. He watched Neil unraveling, falling apart in front of him and took it all in. Neil had told him to shut up, but the silence felt even worse than all the mocking words. He couldn’t bear it to have Andrew just standing there like an observer. It made him feel exposed in all his twisted ugliness.

  “Just… keep talking,” Neil gave in, sounding wrecked. He usually did this alone, if he could help it. He would run and hide and wait for it to be over. He had never done this in front of anyone, but Andrew wouldn't leave.

  “What’s the highest score Kevin had in one game?” Neil took a few breaths and looked up at Andrew, head turned sideways. Exy?

  “E… eleven. Last season. Second… match.” He coughed and spat into the toilet. Andrew didn't even bat an eyelash, nor did he look disgusted.

  “Do you know how fast he is?” Of course he knew. He knew all about the man. He knew him better than Andrew. Kevin had lived his life exposed to the media.

  “Yeah… runs a mile a–“ he coughed again, his stomach protested and made him dry-heave for a moment before he could take a breath, “…four fifteen,” he wheezed but managed a grin nevertheless. His brain was kicking back in while it coughed up those details through the mess it was in.

  “What’s funny about that?”

  “I’m faster…” He managed to get back up onto his feet and leaned his back against the wall opposite Andrew. His legs were still shaky but he was getting there. Up, get up on your feet. Don’t let them catch you on your knees…

  “How fast?”

  “Four minutes.” Neil wiped the back of his hand at the snot under his nose. It didn't help much. He leaned his head back and shivered, but kept his roiling stomach under control. He was getting through this, he could tell now. All this Exy talk was getting him through it. He took deep breaths and used the cool tiles behind him for much needed support. His knees felt weak, but he needed to stand upright for a moment to prove himself that he still could. He would run if he could but that was out of the question.

  “How fast am I?” Neil blinked and squinted at Andrew. His brain was still slow. Finally, he shook his head.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, voice sounding raw. Andrew shrugged.

  “I don’t run.” Neil managed a pathetic excuse for a chuckle then, and allowed himself to slide down the wall, leaning his elbows onto his knees, and ran his shaky fingers through his sweaty hair. “But I could bench-press you.”

  “Oh hell…” Neil took another deep breath and grinned. “Are you actually calling me fat?”

  “Maybe?”

  “Fuck off,” he managed and laughed. It sounded rough, weak.

  “Are you done?” Showing concern or compassion clearly wasn't Andrew’s strong suit. Neil understood that, and he also understood that the goalkeeper was still supporting him in his own way. Turned out, it was enough.

  “Yeah,” Neil sighed. “Yeah, I’m done.”

  “Good.” Andrew turned around and left him. “Then get cleaned up. We are going out.”

<<Chapter 11                                                                                                  Chapter 13>>

[swimmersdaily]

Interview with water polo referees Marco Ercoli and Giuliana Nicolosi

Marco Ercoli: “During work, the fear disappears”

International water polo referee Marco Ercoli is one of those unnamed heroes who are battling in the front line in these terrible times. The Italian ref is working as a doctor in the Augusto Murri Hospital in the city of Ferro where all those scenes happen on a daily if not hourly basis we are hearing about in the news. That is one of the hardest-hit regions in the country and Marco and his colleagues are working around the clock to save lives. During a rare rest period, he was ready to answer our questions – and his honest answers might help to further understand how tough are the challenges the medical personnel face on the field. At the end of the interview, you’ll find his Facebook post, a mind-blowing raw message why people should really take the lockdown measures pretty seriously.

As I imagine, in normal times doctors got used to strict rules and protocols – but as we see on TV, in Italian hospitals rules and protocols might no longer be valid since quite a while. How did it affect you that everything has been turned upside down? We have always been used to being closely tied to protocols. Fortunately, this did not affect the clinical and professional capacity of each of us. Once we understood that the rules had changed, we immediately put in place alternative ideas and new protocols, which still change daily as the situation changes. It is difficult and tiring, but certainly rewarding from a professional point of view.

Have you ever imagined a situation similar to this? Have you been trained at least theoretically what to do when such a pandemic hits a country and have those trainings really prepared you for this? Imagine? Unfortunately yes. Though the system was not exactly ready for all of this. I personally have USAR (urban search and rescue) training from the Italian civil protection authorities and I have a master’s degree in Medical Disaster Management. These skills have certainly helped me, even if the training for the emotional part can only be taken on the field.

Is there any difference between the challenges of each day? One is tougher than the other – or can we say that each is the toughest one you’ve ever experienced? In this battle, each challenge is unique, because even in the same clinical situation patients have different histories. Each of them is a story that leaves a memory, unfortunately not always a nice one…

Have you been in a situation when you had to make a cruel decision? When your heart was almost broken? Or in these times a doctor simply cannot be too sensitive? Fortunately, the decisions I had to make were always in line with my code of ethics. In some situations, where cruel decisions were required, the professionalism and ethics of colleagues from other departments allowed us to always choose the best for whom we were assisting.

We’ve learned in shock that at least a hundred medical personnel died from Covid19 in Italy. Do you work in fear or there is no room to worry when you are called on duty? Obviously I’m worried, like all my colleagues. Especially for our loved ones at home, as we have the fears in our minds of being able to infect those we care about. But during work the fear disappears, while maintaining a high degree of attention we do not spare ourselves, this is our environment, we must remain concentrated professionals.

How is your body and soul? Do you have any time for just a short recharging or it’s a constant battle? The time for a refill to the physical part is there, the constant battle is in the mind. It is very difficult to be able to rest the brain, but I try to do my best to recover mental energies by taking care of my family.

I guess you miss water polo – as we all do. Do you wait for the time to return to the pool deck? The perception of time in these weeks is strange. Not having my weekly pool dispositions makes it even more surreal. After so many years it’s a very strange effect, I can’t wait to go back to whistling.

How do you see the future of water polo and sport after these troubled times? Unfortunately, it is a question I can’t answer. It is the same that I do for everything else, from work to community life, what will change in our habits after all this? Usually from moments of crisis always great ideas come out, we hope our sport is one of those realities that take advantage of this break to bring out captivating proposals, otherwise, we will all suffer.

Marco’s Facebook post: Hello, I present to you CoViD!… basically I understand you, I understand who continues to go out to do maybe just two steps ignoring the indications, after all you have never seen him, only told on TV by the commentator on duty who maybe calls him “little more than a flu “And then, if you feel like it, take two minutes to get to know him…I introduce you to him as Anna knew him (the name has obviously been changed), who arrives one night in an emergency room. Anna is a middle-aged lady, three children and 4 grandchildren, for a few days she had a little fever and if she was at home, then from today afternoon suddenly a very strong cough that almost no  longer lets her breathe, then the call to 118 and the transport to the PS. Come in and we welcome you immediately, as always … exams, plates, therapy, as always … Anna gets worse, does not respond to our attempts, the exams go wrong … sometimes it happens unfortunately, as always … but this is where our friend introduces himself, Mr. CoViD, and this is where what never happens happens … in these cases one of us immediately leaves the emergency room and rushes to the waiting room, where 1,2,4 family members eagerly awaiting news that we always try to provide quickly, especially when they are not encouraging … the other night we have not been able to do this … the hospital is isolated, ban on access to relatives in order not to transmit the virus … we recover a cell phone number and we try to say through a phone the news that nobody would ever want to receive: “his mother / wife / daughter is dying” … and on the other side silence … what else to expect? There are no eyes to look at to relieve the pain a bit, there are no hands to squeeze to feel closer, there is no embrace that only the presence in silence can give … and after this surreal call we return to Anna , and you don’t know how to explain to a lady who until last week prepared sweets surrounded by family members the reason for, as she says “nobody is here near me?” This is CoViD-19, or coronavirus, or whatever you want to call it, if you ask me if it is the worst disease I have seen I tell you, yes, and you know why, because it leaves you ALONE! If you are lucky, it will be a period in which in the hospital you will see only the eyes of the doctor or nurse behind the mask, otherwise you end up closed in a bag (because this is the disposition) and buried without anyone can see you anymore or greet you, not even for the last kiss. Now that I hope I have introduced you to it a little better, while some of us are forced to risk our skin every day and would like to be your place, I hope you think about it at least 3 times before going shopping every day, to take a walk with the dog or chat around the street … STAY HOME !!! I embrace you, Marco

Giuliana Nicolosi “As for the vaccine, we are not very close”

Rferee Giuliana NICOLOSI (ITA) Budapest 20/01/2020 Duna Arena NED – Netherlands (white caps) Vs. FRA – France (blue caps) Men XXXIV LEN European Water Polo Championships 2020 Photo ©Pasquale Mesiano / Deepbluemedia / Insidefoto

3 NED GENEE Dagmar Netherlands, 3 RUS PROKOFYEVA Ekaterina Russia, NICOLOSI Giuliana Referee Budapest 23/01/2020 Duna Arena Russia (white caps) Vs. Netherlands (blue caps) XXXIV LEN European Water Polo Championships 2020 Photo ©Giorgio Scala / Deepbluemedia / Insidefoto

Less than three months ago Giuliana Nicolosi whistled the women’s semifinal at the European Water Polo Championships in Budapest (Russia v Netherlands) and back then she didn’t think that the news coming from China on a new virus would hit our world so hard soon. While she is considered one of the best female referees around, today her focus is solely on the battle against the COVID-19 as she works for a huge pharmaceutical company’s research department.

When you were refereeing at the European Water Polo Championships in Budapest this January, the first news from China already hit the headlines. Did you think in those days that soon you and your colleagues would be involved to the battle against this virus? No. We didn’t realize that the situation was so serious and we thought that Europe wouldn’t be affected as hard as it is now.

Can you describe your institution’s role in the ongoing researches? I’m a member of the R&D Medical department of a big pharmaceutical industry company and as a doctor with a specialization in allergies and immunology, my job is to introduce new drugs to doctors for patients care and find new solutions.

We can say that today all eyes are on the medical personnel who try to help for the infected thousands – but every other day these eyes turn towards the researchers as we all hope you’ll find the solution. It means you’ll find a weapon to win the war against Covid19. What is your personal opinion: are we close to find that weapon? Currently, there is a drug therapy to combat the symptoms but for the vaccine, we are not very close. Right now the only weapon that works is social distancing to allow hospitals not to collapse.

Researchers used to work in silence and calmness and come up with the results once they reached a fine conclusion. How does it feel to work under this kind of pressure that all the world is anxiously waiting that you find the solution miraculously? Though we all now that science is not about making miracles. So how does it feel to do the researching job as if all eyes follow every step you take in the labs? You are right. Science is not founded to make miracles. Science work is about understanding how to resolve the problems. At this moment, expectations are very high, but we must take thoughtful steps to find a good solution for everyone.

We’ve learnt that the scientific community has never been so open and supportive to each other, all results and discoveries in relation to Covid19 are immediately shared on the web. Is it still the case? How much this openness and flow of the information eases your job? Sharing data and experience is the most important thing. Medicine is not an exact science but now we must think about how to win this battle.

Do you think it is possible that different researchers will create different vaccines for example which can both be effective against the virus? Or usually, there is only one good solution? There may be multiple solutions to solving the disease but what matters is the end result.

Can you describe your days and weeks? Is it a kind of constant progress or there are failed experiments which make your team a bit disappointed, then you’ll see positive results which then help to step forward? Currently, I’m working from home and in constant contact with pulmonologist doctors to discuss and choose the right therapy for patients.

How is your body and soul? Do you have any time for just a short recharging or it’s a constant process? I feel a little under stress but I know that working is the only thing to do. In my free time, I watched some games from the Budapest 2020 European Championships and some games from the earlier Olympics in order not to forget the dreams of all of us.

I guess you miss water polo – as we all do. Do you wait for the time to return to the pool deck? My last WP game was on 7th of March without spectators and it was very strange. I really miss water polo and all the big family of water polo.

How do you see the future of water polo and sport after these troubled times? Surely I think there will be a period of adjustment but we will return stronger and more united than before.

Press release from LEN, Images courtesy of Deepbluemedia

Special interviews: WP refs in the frontline battling with COVID-19 Interview with water polo referees Marco Ercoli and Giuliana Nicolosi Marco Ercoli: “During work, the fear disappears”

[topinforma]

New Post has been published on Mortgage News

New Post has been published on http://bit.ly/2raL7RO

Tech Revolution Benefits the Aging

Imagine your frail father dons a virtual reality headset so he can “attend” his grandson’s graduation and feel as if he’s really there. Or your mom, forgetful about her medicine, swallows a teensy sensor encased in medication that will relay the time she took the pill and the dosage to her smartphone.

SEE ALSO: Technology Helps Seniors Remain at Home

Perhaps your mother-in-law has dementia, which makes her agitated. A small robot she holds that acts like a cat, including purring, calms her instantly. Afraid she’ll wander? Your phone can alert you if she does.

Whether already in use or still being tested, aging-in-place technology is improving the aging experience for seniors and family caregivers. Part of the reason: the development of artificial intelligence, or AI, and “big data.” With AI, devices can react like humans after assessing a situation and learning someone’s habits. Wearable gadgets—think Fitbit on steroids—can collect and analyze health data, while medical mini-machines monitor chronic conditions and customize treatment.

“Technology is a game-changer, improving older adults’ independence, engagement and health and reducing their social isolation,” says David Lindeman, director of the Center for Technology and Aging at the University of California, Berkeley. “Technologies we haven’t even thought of today will be on the market in the next few years.”

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Technology may be especially beneficial when baby boomers find they need an extra something, perhaps a friendly robot, to keep them healthy, happy and in charge as they grow older. And new technologies could help caregivers. In a 2015 AARP survey, fewer than 10% of family caregivers said they use, or have used, technology for caregiving, but 71% said they were interested.

In the coming years, aging tech is likely to follow the pattern of smartphones, which gained traction in people’s lives relatively quickly. Stand-alone devices are getting smaller, and apps are increasingly available for smartphones and tablets. Plus, aging technology is getting faster, cheaper and easier to use.

What’s out there today, or about to debut?

Virtual Reality Offers Real Benefits

Although it began as a teen gaming phenomenon, virtual reality, or VR, is maturing into a technology for older adults. While still in its infancy, VR for seniors is gaining fans among physicians, long-term-care staff, researchers, physical therapists and family members.

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Here’s how it works: A senior dons special VR goggles that show panoramic images made with a 360-degree video camera. The wearer is transported into a multisensory, three-dimensional world where he is totally immersed in a place or experience, making him feel as if he is actually there. That world might be his childhood neighborhood (via Google Maps), the beach, a faraway family reunion or a grandchild’s wedding in real time.

For older adults with mobility issues or cabin fever, VR breaks up day-to-day monotony and loneliness, letting seniors “travel”—sky diving or swimming with whales, anyone?—without leaving home.

But VR offers more than just a good time. It’s being studied as a way to reduce physical pain, opioid use, anxiety, stress and social isolation, and to improve mood. At Massachusetts General Hospital, doctors plan to use VR to study brain function in aging. “Individuals with dementia tend to struggle with activities such as executive function and multitasking, which can be hard to evaluate in a clinical setting,” says Dennis Lally, co-founder of Rendever, a Boston company developing VR software for seniors. “With VR, it’s now possible to track the human interaction with virtual tasks and leverage virtual reality analytics to measure the success of these activities.” In the next few months, the hospital will begin testing the VR product.

San Francisco physician Sonya Kim says when she first introduced VR to depressed and agitated patients, she thought, “Wow! This is phenomenal! People are happy!” In 2014, Kim developed Aloha VR, which she uses in group therapy sessions. “Our goal is to improve the quality of life for older adults, and through VR, take senior care to the next level,” says Kim, even for patients being treated for dementia. She has seen violent dementia patients who have mellowed after using VR.

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Dr. David Rhew, chief medical officer for Samsung Electronics America, believes that VR may be more than just a distraction from pain and anxiety—it may be an actual treatment. “Studies show there’s a quantifiable impact, not just when the individual is receiving the VR but also after they take off the headset,” says Rhew. A Cedars-Sinai Medical Center study—the largest controlled trial to date for VR pain treatment in hospitalized patients—showed VR reduced pain by 24%.

At the University of Washington, researchers did MRIs on one group who used VR before the imaging and another that didn’t. “The VR group showed high levels of activity in the brain suggesting that neurochemicals were being fired,” says Rhew. “There is a strong suggestion that VR is reducing pain due to some neurological or physiological impact on the brain.”

Consumers have begun snapping up VR gadgets for home use. You can get Samsung’s Gear VR headset for $100. But prices range from $15 for a Google Cardboard headset to nearly $600 for an Oculus Rift headset. (Oculus also offers a $99 version.)

The devices are also being used in long-term-care facilities. For the past few months, The Residence at Watertown Square, a Boston-area long-term-care facility, has been using VR. Resident engagement director Shauna Bennett has a preprogrammed tablet that guides viewers through a script she reads. Perhaps it’s for an interactive tour of the Grand Canyon or watching stars at night in Alaska. “Five minutes after they try VR, they are so stimulated,” she says. “It is a mood changer. They are laughing and smiling and engaged.”

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Rendever, which designed that Grand Canyon tour, has its product in more than 30 senior facilities; by year-end, it will be in hundreds more.

Social Robots on the Rise

For a growing number of households, Alexa, the AI-enabled, voice-controlled personal assistant on the Amazon Echo speaker, has become a family member. “She” can recite sports scores, play song requests or look up appointments. Alexa is joined by “sisters” Siri, Google Home and Cortana.

These devices are multiplying. A 2016 report from market research company Tractica predicts that 100 million consumer robots will ship between 2015 and 2020—including bots that vacuum and mow the lawn.

Coming soon is Jibo, a $749 tabletop robot due on the market this year that interacts with humans. Jibo can tell a joke when you walk in the room and even teach a grandchild simple math. A built-in camera lets it snap family photos at your say-so.

Robots like Jibo are being developed to react to your mood. Tired? Confused? Sad? Happy? The camera reads your facial expression and then converses with you. Elder care assistant robot ELLI Q, for the home market, is being tested with seniors in San Francisco.

Built on the Android platform, ELLI Q draws content from the Web. The robot is connected to a tablet and suggests activities such as “Want to play a game of bridge?” (if you say yes, it will pull up a Web-based game) or “How about a walk?” after you’ve sat in front of the TV for a while. The robot will remind you to take your medicine; it also reads body language.

Robotic pets are making the rounds in homes and senior facilities. At Front Porch, a nonprofit that manages senior communities and has a Center for Innovation and Wellbeing, residents in skilled nursing and memory care interact with Paro, a robotic seal, and a dog and cat from Hasbro’s Joy for All Companion Pets.

Sue Norton-Clapham’s mother Mabel Norton, 98, is an animal lover. Although Norton has dementia and her words are garbled, she talks to Lily, the seal, and Noodles, the cat. She has to share them with other residents of her Chula Vista, Cal., facility, so her daughter plans to buy her a robotic pet of her own. “I work and can’t always be with Mom,” says Norton-Clapham, “so it really makes me feel great that she is connecting to something and still able to have those emotions and be a person.”

Hasbro’s pets include three cats ($100 each) and a dog ($120) that looks like a Golden Retriever. When you speak, the dog looks toward you; stroke its back and you feel a “heartbeat.”

Robotics can be put to use in other ways, too. For example, robotic exoskeletons are being developed for those who need help moving around after a stroke, perhaps, or who have trouble walking. A wearable mobile machine, powered by electric motors and other technology, allows a person’s limbs to move. ReWalk Robotics makes ReWalk for the home and rehab facilities. The battery-powered exoskeleton has motors at the joints, so those with spinal-cord injuries can walk, turn and climb stairs.

Technology to Improve Your Health

“Connected” health technology is a godsend for people who want to grow old in their homes and retain their independence. According to an industry report by MarketResearch.com, the market for connected smart sensors is expected to reach $117 billion by 2020. Health tech lets users get help in an emergency with mobile medic alert–like personal emergency response systems; track health and habits via wearable devices that gather biometric cardiac, respiratory, sleep and activity data; and monitor chronic conditions. It also lets patients speak with doctors remotely in real time (known as telemedicine), partake in virtual rehab, anticipate falls and manage medication.

Through GPS, sensors, chips, cameras, voice activation, cellular connectivity and smartphone monitoring apps, technology provides a way to share information and offers peace of mind to family caregivers and loved ones. An adult child, for instance, can easily access the information by logging onto a smartphone, tablet or computer. Health tech company AliveCor sells a $99 smartphone-connected electrocardiogram that detects abnormal heart rhythms; called Kardia Mobile, the app on the smartphone lets the user see the results and take them to the doctor.

And don’t forget mental health and well-being. Software such as Posit’s Brain HQ (some brain exercises are free, but full access costs $14 a month or $96 a year) and Rosetta Stone’s Fit Brains ($80 a year) can help keep the brain sharp. Other technologies let people stay socially connected and engaged. Integrated systems such as GrandCare ($999 to $1,499 plus $99 a month) and Independa (Independa-enabled LG smart TV ranges from $699 to $1,199) combine multiple functions such as videocalling, reminders and activity monitoring (including looking for unusual behavior).

Technology can also be used to manage medication. Not taking your medicine properly, or at all, can land you in the hospital—or worse. Today, there are smartphone apps and physical devices that release pills on schedule, and provide text or phone-call reminders if you forget to take your medicine. Apps, which vary in cost, include Medminder, Reminder Rosie, e-Pill and PillPack.

And there is a new world of ingestible sensors. Proteus Digital Health, a health technology company, is partnering with health care systems to prescribe medications with sensors for patients with heart failure, cardio metabolic risk and hepatitis-C.

Here’s how it works: The medication is put into a capsule with a Federal Drug Administration–approved sensor the size of a grain of sand. Swallow the capsule and the sensor turns on when it reaches the stomach. It sends a signal to a small wearable sensor patch placed on your torso. The patch records the time you took your medication, the type of medicine and the dose. It then relays that information to your mobile device. If no information is relayed to the patch because you forgot to take your pill, the Proteus software sends you a reminder on your mobile device. The ingestible sensor passes through your body like food.

The Proteus sensor is currently being used in eight large U.S. health care systems, which are picking up the tab while these smart pills are being tested.

According to Dr. George Savage, co-founder of Proteus, fewer than 50% of people take their medication correctly. “Digital medicine helps doctors make better decisions,” says Savage. Physicians can see if patients are failing to respond to the therapy or if it’s how they are taking the medicine that is at fault, he says.

All of these technologies are just the beginning, with many more in the works. For example, smart contact lenses are being developed to measure blood glucose from a wearer’s tears to monitor diabetes. Novartis is working with Google to create a contact lens that has a tiny antenna that sends data to the user’s smartphone if her glucose level is too high or too low. Another company, Medella Health, has the same goal. It’ll be a few years until either is tested, approved and distributed.

Also on the horizon: Lighter and cheaper exoskeletons that pinpoint problem areas on the body. Let’s say as your dad grows older, he develops a gait problem. A camera captures his movements and spots his weaknesses, then algorithms analyze the pictures so an engineer can make a brace or other assistive technology.

A few small exoskeletons are in use, such as ReWalk. But they aren’t necessarily affordable. “Robotic prosthetic limbs cost anywhere from $5,000 to $50,000,” says Majd Alwan, executive director for LeadingAge Center for Aging Services Technologies. But Alwan says he believes that over the next five years, prices will be halved as competition increases. With so many technological advancements under way, the future of aging looks golden.

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