#OKAY ANYWAY that's it thanks for the comm i hope you enjoyed it love u bye

[trvelyans-archive]

lost time

a commission for the lovely and ever iconic @dauntless-necromancer of their cousland and morrigan and kieran and kieran’s Bae <3 thank you very much for commissioning me again, you’re the absolute best and i appreciate it a lot <3 i hope you enjoy the fic as much as i enjoyed writing it !!!

-

Kieran did not have any friends in Orlais.

He did not know why. Mother said it was because he scared them too much, but he didn’t know what it was about him that scared them. He was quiet and shy and rarely raised his voice – how did that scare everyone so much? He didn’t know his place in the noble children’s friendship circles, so he did not want to push his luck or speak when he wasn’t supposed to when they already looked at him the way that they did, but they didn’t like him no matter what. It felt like there was no winning, like his Mother would be his only friend forever. And he loved Mother, but… she had jobs to do for the Empress and she was not always around. Sometimes he sat alone in his room all night, deciphering ancient writing as best as he could and playing games with his wooden toys by himself. He didn’t have any friends, and he was lonely.

Until Satine came along.

He was roaming the Hall of Heroes in the Winter Palace when he saw her the first time. After a while, he spent almost all soirees and balls and other parties by himself, so this time he was so focused on the statues in front of him and the low-burning candles at their feet that he barely noticed her peeking out from behind one of them, watching him with a small smile and bright, intelligent eyes. She had a nice dress on – she certainly wasn’t one of the serving girls who occasionally tried to play with them when they said he looked sad – and was watching him carefully.

“Hi?” Kieran said when he realized she hadn’t looked away, frowning.

“Hi,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at the statues,” he answered, pointing at them. “I like this one.”

It was a lion, big and broad and shining gold. The girl crept out from the statue she had been hiding behind and looked at it. “Do you like lions?”

“I like all animals.” Kieran turned to her as she approached. “I think I’d be scared of lions if I saw one in person, but I like statues of them. They’re very elegant.”

That was one of Kieran’s favourite words.

She walked over to the lion and ran her fingers over the edge of the statue. “What’s your favourite animal?”

“I don’t know,” Kieran said genuinely, tilting his head as he thought. “I like dragons, but I think I’d be scared of them if I saw one in person, too. They’re very strong and very old.”

She glanced over at him and studied him for a second and then suddenly, just as Kieran realized that perhaps that was an odd thing to say, she grinned. “I like dragons, too,” she said. “I like birds the most.”

“I like birds, too,” Kieran replied. “I wish I could fly. Maybe one day.”

“Maybe one day we will become great dragon tamers and ride them across Thedas,” she said.

“Yes,” Kieran said. “Thedas and whatever lies beyond it.”

She was fiddling with the skirts of her dress. “You think there’s something across the ocean?”

He shrugged as he nodded. “I think so,” he admitted. He should learn how to stop saying such weird things, he thought. He’d have a lot more friends if he did. “I’d like to stay here, though. Mother is here, and I don’t want to leave her.”

“Who’s your mother?”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, debating whether or not to tell her. It wasn’t like either of them could get in trouble for it – the Empress hired Mother to be her Arcane Advisor willingly, it wasn’t like she didn’t know that Morrigan was a mage – but he knew people didn’t understand what Mother really did in Orlais and he didn’t know if this newfound friendship would last through him trying to explain it.

“The Empress’ arcane advisor,” he answered finally.

She blinked at him before smiling again. “That sounds very interesting,” she said.

“Oh, it is.” He was always proud of the work Mother did – the things she’d show him, anyway – and it was nice for someone else to think so, too. “Very interesting.”

She held her hand out to him and wiggled her fingers. “I want to show you something cool I found in the library earlier,” she said. “And you can tell all about it while we explore, okay?”

He looked down at her hand. “Do you… Are you asking to be my friend?”

“Yes,” she said. “I would like to be friends with you. What’s your name?”

“Kieran,” he said, placing his hand in her palm. She squeezed it, hard.

“I’m Satine,” she replied, pulling him along behind her as she began walking up the stairs. “I think we are going to be good friends, Kieran.”

He wanted to say ‘me too’, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to get his hopes up only for them to get dashed on the ground again.

… He did have a good feeling about this, though.

-

Kieran taller than most of the guards at Castle Cousland. They shrink a little as he walks by – though whether it’s because he’s tall or it’s because he’s the son of a Witch of the Wilds, he can’t tell – but when he offers them as friendly of a smile as he can manage they seem to relax somewhat. Not all of them do that, though, and they don’t do it all of the time. Every time he wanders through the fortress at night and, admittedly, catches them a little off-guard, they seem to be scared of him even when he smiles; even when he tries to make conversation. Perhaps he should pull his hood down on those occasions, but he doesn’t really feel comfortable doing that just yet.

He can’t blame them, though. He definitely doesn’t look like an average Ferelden. The rest of them are tanned, strong – he’s pale, or paler than them at least (though he’s tanner more now that he’s spending more time outside), he’s freckly, and he has a shock of dark brown hair that hangs down over his wide forehead, which Mother says is “unforgivingly mysterious”.

And then, one night, Elrich asks him if he wants a haircut, so he says yes.

“I wish there were other people my age here,” Kieran comments, half-heartedly flipping through an Elven text while watching his father out of the corner of his eye in between falling clumps of hair.

Elrich is sharpening his sword, but stops when he looks up at Kieran and smiles, eyes softening. “I know, pup,” he says gently. “And if things in Thedas were different –“ He glances over at Morrigan – “and if your mother allowed it, I’d suggest you go travelling, but…”

“My son is not going to die in Tevinter,” she says. Kieran can hear the frown in her voice. “Or the Anderfels, or Antiva, or wherever a boy his age would travel to.”

“Not even Denerim?” Kieran asks.

“Maybe Denerim,” Elrich says, leveling an even stare at Morrigan over Kieran’s head that Kieran hears her respond to with a groan. “Next summer, perhaps. If things die down.”

Morrigan snorts but says nothing, and Elrich just smiles at her before looking down at his sword again. Kieran watches them for a moment, stomach twisting with unease, before glancing back down at his book.

… He really needs some friends his age.

-

One day, when Mother was away visiting some city called Serault on important business for the Empress, Kieran had free reign of their quarters in the Winter Palace.

Granted, that didn’t mean much – their quarters were, rather simply, three adjoining rooms in a very dusty, disused hallway – but still, it meant something. Though the servants came in every once in a while to check up on him, and he kept all of the doors open in case someone needed to get him for something, he liked how free he felt. He felt so free that he occasionally dared to touch the relics on Mother’s desk, but then found it too overwhelming and started keeping away from them after that.

On a rainy morning, Satine came to visit. She was carrying a small pack of dainty Orlesian cakes and cookies. Kieran welcomed her into his and Mother’s quarters with a smile, and closed the door tightly behind her as she sat down on the table.

“I know you said you were lonely without your mother,” she began, “so I thought I would come visit while Papa had business with the Empress.”

Could she really tell that easily?

He did like having control of their quarters without her, but he did miss her, too. She said they probably couldn’t exchange many letters while she was gone, and he missed her jokes and her smile and the way she sung him to sleep when everything else around and in his head were far too loud. He winced, glancing away. “I don’t miss her that much,” he said defensively.

Satine opened the pack and drew out a single white cookie. “Of course you do,” she replied. “I would miss Papa if he left for a while. He’s my favourite chess partner.”

“I play chess with Mother, too.”

He walked over to the table and sat down beside her, grabbing a cookie that was the same in appearance to her’s but didn’t taste the way he thought it would.

“We should play chess together sometime,” she said, playfully wiggling her eyebrows at him. He smiled and took another bite of his cookie.

“I think you would beat me,” he replied.

“No way! You’re much smarter than I am.”

“I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Yes, you are,” Satine said, rolling her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Though I guess we will just have to agree to disagree.”

Kieran sighed but, eventually, gave in, because who was he to say no to her?

-

Kieran has very big quarters in Highever Castle.

He has more room than he initially knew what to do with, but he fills it up quickly. After all, he’s allowed to travel down to the market whenever he wants to (since his mother and father know that no one would lift a finger to try anything with him) and he certainly does not take those opportunities lightly. Though he probably should, considering how much money he’s spent on various interesting things that make him curious – but e earns his keep, and his mother gives him a fair enough allowance to buy what he wants since, for the first time in his life, they live in an actual city he can explore without fear.

That’s all he’s wanted for so long, even if he doesn’t have the friends – or any friends at all - to explore it with as he’d like.

His newest toy is a small hawk claw that hangs from the end of a golden chain. The man at the stall said the hawk was very old and have a good life, which Kieran felt relieved about. He’s fiddling with it at the dinner table, smiling, thinking about the creature that it belonged to.

“Hawks are such fascinating creatures, aren’t they?” he asks.

“Very noble,” Elrich says from the head of the table. “We could get you one, if you’d like, to take care of.”

“I do think he’d be quite good at that,” Morrigan adds in.

“I would like that a lot, Father.” Kieran smiles at him and rests the necklace against his chest again, smoothing the chain out over his shirt. “How was your day?”

“It was good.” Elrich glances over at Morrigan. “It was certainly nice to spend some time with your mother, since I didn’t have very many duties to attend to. We took a stroll through the garden, ate lunch on the battlements and watched the city…”

“I miss living in the mountains, but seeing that drunken man stumble around in the street earlier before face-first into a pile of horse droppings…” She smiles wistfully, thinking back on the memory. “Ah, there’s nothing like it. And spending time with you, of course, my dear,” she hastens to say, looking at Elrich with a playful glint in her eye. He winks at her and brings her knuckles up to his lips, kissing them gently.

Kieran smiles and looks down at his plate, giving them a moment to themselves.

“Actually, Kieran, I was thinking we could go somewhere together tomorrow.” Elrich looks over at his son. “There’s a beautiful viewing point a few miles away from the city, and though it’s a small hike through the forest to get there, it’s well worth it. We might as well do some hunting on the way there to get dinner for tomorrow night, as well.”

“You should go,” Morrigan says. “Spend some time with your father, Kieran. I will take care of everything here – I’m sure the guards will love that.”

“Fergus, too,” Elrich adds, chuckling.

“You’re sure, Father?” Kieran asks. He still hasn’t spent much time with his father, just the two of them, and a part of him is slightly nervous for it.

“Absolutely sure,” Elrich says, grinning. “Besides, I’ve been working hard for half my life. I can take a little more time off to go out and explore my childhood home with my son, hm?”

“Okay,” Kieran agrees. He can’t say he’s not looking forward to it, despite his nervousness – and it’ll certainly be good to get out of the castle.

-

The last day Kieran saw Satine was a bit of a blur.

The scouts from this ‘Inquisition’ came to him and mother’s quarters to pack up their things to take to some place called Skyhold, a supposedly grand fortress in the mountains where they would be living for the foreseeable future while Mother worked alongside someone named the Inquisitor. Satine came to the palace as soon as she received Kieran’s letter – he sent it the night of the ball and the peace talks, when his hands were still shaking from the events of the evening – but they were already almost gone, and would not have much time left to spend together to say their goodbyes, a thought that made Kieran more sad than he remembered ever feeling before.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” she said, sitting on the windowsill across from Kieran as the soldiers carried some furniture out the door to the front gardens where their carriage was waiting.

“I can’t either,” Kieran replied, looking over at Satine with a frown. “I don’t want to go.”

“I know you don’t, but… It’ll be an adventure, right?” She nudged his leg with hers, smiling. “And you can still write to me. I’ll pen a response as soon as I hear from you to make sure you’re not waiting around for a reply.”

“Mother says that she doesn’t trust the Inquisition entirely yet,” Kieran said, tipping his head back against the wall and looking out the window at the rolling hills outside of Orlais. “I don’t know if she will want me to be sending very many letters.”

“Oh.” Satine’s face fell, her bottom lip crumpling. “Well… Send them when you can. I’ll write you a letter about everything exciting that happens and then send them all to you at once when I hear from you.”

Kieran looked over at her. “I’m going to miss you, Satine.” He leaned forward, swinging his legs down from the windowsill. “You know that you’re my only friend, right?”

“You’re mine, too.” She pursed her lips. “The other noble children don’t like me very much. I was so happy when we became friends, Kieran.”

She reached out to tangle their fingers together and Kieran, at a lost for words, squeezed her hand as gently as he could without hurting her.

“Kieran,” Mother called from the other side of the room, “we have to go soon.”

He knew Mother felt bad telling him to prepare to leave soon, but she couldn’t do much about it besides give him an understanding nod and leave the room.

Letting go of her hand, Kieran pushed himself off of the windowsill and landed on the floor. Satine followed, the skirts of her dress swishing. “I suppose this is goodbye,” Kieran said quietly.

“Don’t be foolish, Kieran.” She smiled. “I’m going to see you off. I’m not wasting a single second I have left with you.”

He grabbed his bags, filled with gifts Satine had given him over the past two years as well as all of his clothes and other treasured belongings, and declined her offer to help him as he left his room in the Winter Palace for the last time. He would miss it. There were many things he would miss about Orlais.

Satine did see him off, even though the sky was growing dark and trip back to the city would be long. Still, she waited for the soldiers to pack everything into the carriage and did it all standing at his side, holding his hand, and when it was finally time to go, she turned to him tearfully.

“Goodbye,” she said quietly.

“Goodbye,” he replied, hugging her tightly through tears of his own before hurrying to the carriage where his mother was waiting.

-

His father is marching ahead of him through the woods while Kieran lags behind, listening to the sound of happy birdsong while looking up at the trees.

They’re thick and full, and the dark green leaves tremble in the occasional gust of summer wind. He swears he’s never seen a place so beautiful before, nor one so peaceful, even when he and his mother lived in the mountains. At one point during their walk, a small creature scurries out from the undergrowth and into the hollow of a large tree where it disappears somewhere in the shadows. It was a mouse, Kieran thinks, but he didn’t get a very good look at it.

“Kieran?”

He looks up at his father, standing higher up the path with a concerned look. It’s a wide path, with shallow cuts on either side where wheels of carriages from years past have traversed the long road to Highever. He’s more surprised that they haven’t encountered a carriage so far today, especially considering that Ferelden is in the height of summer and it’s the perfect time of day for hunting.

“I’m fine,” Kieran replies, hurrying to catch up. “I was just distracted by a creature.”

Elrich smiles. “You’ve always been a curious boy,” he says fondly, then tilts his head. “Though I suppose you’re a man now, hm?”

Kieran nods. “It doesn’t always feel like it, but yes, I suppose I am.”

Elrich takes a step down the path towards Kieran, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to be a good man, Kieran,” he says. “I see a lot of your mother in you, and she is… well, she is very special.”

A smile curves his lips, and Kieran blinks, unsure what to say other than ‘thank you’ which seems unfitting for the sentiment.

“And I want you to know that I’m proud of you.” He shifts to place his other hand on Kieran’s shoulder as well. “You’re going to grow into your own soon enough. I know you will. I was going through…” Elrich laughs, glancing away. “Well, a lot when I was your age. But I grew into my own, too, with time.”

“You had a few more things to contend with than I do,” Kieran points out with a smile.

“That’s very true.” He squeezes his son’s shoulders softly before letting his hands fall down by his sides. “In any case,” he begins, “we should –“

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by the sound of a voice distantly calling for help.

Elrich and Kieran shared a look before springing into action, both of them hurrying down the road towards the source of the noise (thought Kieran was lagging behind due to his heavy pack). Quickly he starts huffing, feeling a sheen of sweat on his brow, but the person sounds distraught, and he is not going to let someone get hurt when he could have helped.

His father reaches them first, and when Kieran crests the hill he can see them – an older man and a shorter woman who Kieran guesses must be around his age, wearing a dress that seems to be Orlesian in style. Elrich is helping the man push their carriage out of the mud from the back while the woman pushes from the front, her face tilted to the ground with effort.

With one final shove, the carriage glides up onto the path once more, and the three of them stumble forward from the momentum as Kieran rushes down towards them. The older man begins thanking Elrich profusely, to which Kieran’s father waves off with a warm smile, and the woman turns to Kieran as he approaches while wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

When his arm drops to his side and he can get a good look on the woman’s face, his stomach drops, too.

No. No. Surely it can’t be her. Of all people, of all places…

“Kieran?”

Suddenly, he feels like his knees could give out from underneath him.

“Satine,” he breathes softly, and he doesn’t get a chance to say anything else before she hugs him.

-

“I just… I just can’t believe it,” Satine says, leaning back in her chair and smiling.

“Me neither,” Kieran replies, running his thumb over the pads of her delicate fingers. “Are you sure you don’t want my cloak? Or to move closer to the fire?”

“Kieran.” She tips her head towards him and looks at him from underneath her eyelashes, a bemused smile on her lips. “I’m fine, here, with you. And you’ve barely gotten a chance to talk about yourself yet! Where did you go after you moved away from Skyhold?”

His story is much less exciting than her’s, and he tells her as such. After it, it took her their whole meal to describe what had happened to her life since he had last seen her. A few years after Kieran left Orlais, Satine’s father died and, as the oldest child, she inherited the family name and fortune. She was even betrothed for a while when she was 17 – before he died, too, apparently. After that, it wasn’t long before she was deemed a weaker member of court with little to no resources to her name (which was blatantly untrue, she explained to Kieran, but people found the lies to be much more appealing) and blackmailed into leaving Orlais.

“We were going to travel to my father’s old estate in Denerim which he bought when he was very young,” she told him, “as it’s the last place I have claim to, but… well, the wheel of our carriage broke, and you know the rest.”

He can still barely believe she’s here. Their carriage could have broken down anywhere, but it broke down here, with him. If they had come even six months earlier, Kieran and Satine never would have crossed paths.

He tells this to her, too, and she asks why, and he explains how he spent the last several years living in the mountains with his mother, and they only just made the trip to move to the city when Elrich returned to them, cured of the Blight and shed of his Warden duties.

“I still can’t believe he’s your father.” She’s holding his hands, now, running her fingers over the back of his hand and drawing absentminded shapes on his skin while she glances across the room to where Elrich and Morrigan look suspiciously like they’re watching them. “The Hero of Ferelden. How could you never tell me?”

“I tried. Once.” Kieran smiles. “You didn’t believe me.”

Satine rolls her eyes, blushing briefly. “That doesn’t sound like me,” she replies with a hint of sadness. “I was a foolish child – I always played into those foolish fantasies…”

“Like what?”

Kieran’s question catches her by surprise – she meets his gaze and shrinks a little, dropping her eyes to their hands. “Like I could be the head of my family at such a young age,” she says. “Like I could do that and be a good person. Ha! There’s only so much you can spend on resources while paying your servants ten times what other nobles do… It worked for a while, but not for a whole life.” Satine ducks her head, then frowns. “I wouldn’t take it back, though. I hope you know that.”

“You’ve always had a kind heart,” Kieran tells her. “It’s one of my favourite things about you.”

She blushes, biting her lip. “Thank you, Kieran,” she says quietly.

Across the room, Elrich drapes his arm over the back of Morrigan’s chair. “He’s never mentioned her before,” he says. “I’m surprised that they seem so… close.”

Very close. Elrich is surprised that they haven’t snuck away to some shadowy alcove yet, all things considered.

“You should have seen them together when they were children.” Morrigan sighs, running a hand over her forehead. “I could not keep them away from each other, no matter how hard I tried. I think he was in love with her the first day they met. He was so pleased to finally have a friend…”

“It seems he feels the same way now,” Elrich replies, gesturing to where Kieran clasps both of Satine’s hands in his. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him smile like that.”

“Well, thankfully, she is a brilliant girl.” Morrigan smiles wistfully at the sight of the two of them but, when she sees her husband beaming at her, clears her throat. “She used to be, anyway. Only time will tell if she’s still good enough for him.”

He leans over and presses a kiss to her temple. “We have to let him make his own decisions sometime, love.”

She sighs in annoyance, swatting his arm playfully as he wraps it around her and hugs her close. “Don’t tell me that,” she says. “Hearing that as a mother is worse than being run through with a sword.”

“It’s hard for me, too.” Elrich looks over at Kieran again, where he’s opening one of the books out of a stack of many that he brought down to show Satine after dinner. “Now that we’re all together again, it’s hard not to want to spend all my free time with him after missing out on so many years.”

He heaves a regretful sigh, but before he can turn his head, Morrigan reaches up to cup his cheek. “He understands,” she says. “And I know he wants to spend time with you too.”

“I hope so,” Elrich replies. “And I hope I’ve taught him well enough in the short time we’ve had together to make a good decision.”

“He will,” Morrigan says. “But not because of your teaching…”

He kisses her forehead again, chuckling. “Now that’s just cruel.”

“Perhaps.” She leans against his shoulder. “But you love me despite it.”

He laughs. “That I do, love. And either way,” Elrich continues, “I hope everything turns out well for all of us.”

Watching Kieran and Satine on the other side of the room, however, sitting so close together they might as well be in each other’s laps and still holding hands all the while, it’s very hard to believe that it won’t.

-

Within a few months, Satine is moved into the castle.

Her caretaker moves into the city, and after Elrich sets him up with a job working for a baker in the thick of Highever, he occasionally comes by Castle Cousland to bring the four of them food. Kieran and Satine have left piles of crumbs in every room and down every corridor, depending where they set up camp to read books or play chess that day, but Satine always convinces Kieran to clean it up instead of sweeping it into holes in the walls for the mice to get (and then they leave out fancy Orlesian cheese on plates for them, instead). Within a year, Satine moves into Kieran’s quarters; within two, they’re more or less officially betrothed.

“We’ll get married at some point,” Satine says to Morrigan and Elrich one day at dinner, holding Kieran’s hand under the table. “But it’s not our biggest concern right now.”

At the same time, of course, Kieran and Elrich are trying to make up for lost time. They go hunting together for game even though the soldiers try to convince Elrich to let them do it instead, and even when they’re not hunting they go on walks together, just the two of them, where Elrich tells Kieran stories of his time in the Blight and Kieran talks about whatever his latest interest is. They do end up buying a hawk for him that Elrich helps Kieran take care of whenever they have an hour or two to spend together. It becomes quite a popular member of the household, and with Satine around to draw him out of his shell, Kieran follow in its path. He has a few friends now, even without counting the soldiers who greet him warmly every time he walks by holding Satine’s hand.

She’s a perfect addition to the family. Elrich and her are very close, Kieran notes, and his father even teaches Satine how to shoot a bow and how to sword fight (neither of which Kieran is particularly good at himself). In turn, Satine tries to teach him how to sew – it doesn’t end very well, but it certainly made for an entertaining attempt.

Kieran can scarcely believe it most days, how he came from being such a lonely child to having a loving mother and father and a best friend who tells him she adores him every day despite his oddities. (“Of which you have none,” she always protests.) He is incredibly lucky, he thinks, to be end up with a life like this considering where he came from. He only hopes it can stay this way.

[doctorstethoscope]

A Direct Order (18+) || A. Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hello my loves! I hope those of you that had a long weekend were able to enjoy it :). Combining two similar requests for this one! 

Submit your requests here!

from @all-hallows-reid (which has maybe deactivated?? I can’t find u bestie):  How about fem!reader secretly dating Aaron (with a twelve year age gap). She takes a stupid risk and almost gets hurt. Suffice it to say he’s not happy, and punishes her accordingly on the jet or when they get home.

and from @mrandmrshotchner:  Disobeying a direct order and Hotch punishing reader for it

I hope you both love this one!! 

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Sir kink, spanking, praise kink, degradation kink, penetrative sex.

wordcount: 2.2k

“I see the girl,” you whispered into your comms device from the back row of pews at a church in Mittburn, Iowa, nearly 200 miles away from where this child abduction case had started. “He’s concealing a hand behind her, could be a weapon,” you relayed to the team. The church was mostly empty, the service having ended. A few parishioners and the priest were still milling around, and your unsub, Phillip Rishi, was leading seven-year-old Abigail Torres to the altar. 

“Agent, do not engage-- Rishi is devolving and we don’t know what he’ll do. Wait for backup.” You heard Hotch, although you wished you hadn’t. 

Technically, you wouldn’t be breaking a rule if you got up and followed Rishi a little more closely-- and Aaron didn’t have eyes on you, anyways. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. So you slipped out of the pew, kept your head facing mournfully towards the ground, and knelt at the altar, Rishi and the girl to your left. He still had her in front of him, concealing her with his body-- so you couldn’t get a good look at her, to make sure she was okay. You made a half-assed attempt at praying, hoping you were fooling the people around you when you tilted your head at a flash of light-- Rishi had a knife, was tracing the planes of the young girl’s cheekbones, and she was crying.

You gasped, quickly diving across the altar and forcing Rishi off of Abigail. He thrashed as Abigail screamed and ran into the arms of the priest. You wrestled Rishi to the ground, pulling the knife out of his hand and tossing it out of his reach before cuffing him and reading him his Miranda rights. 

As you stood back up, you turned around and noticed Hotch bursting through the door, his face making it perfectly clear that he had heard everything that had gone down through his comms. Oh, man. You were totally fucked.

Aaron asks if you’re okay, which you are, and then the two of you don’t speak. You don’t speak on the jet ride home, you don’t speak as you drive the FBI SUVs back to Quantico, and you don’t speak at the office before you leave for the night. 

You last for all of an hour after leaving the office before you can’t take it anymore. You throw your go bag in your car and take off towards Aaron’s place, walking up to his door and knocking before you can talk yourself out of it. He looks surprised to see you, but doesn’t ask you to leave, which you take as a win. 

“I’m here for my punishment,” you tell him as you slip past him into the apartment, and he rolls his eyes-- not his typical, “my young, playful, sexy girlfriend is driving me crazy” eye roll, but a genuinely disdainful “this young girl is too much to handle” kind of an eye roll. A pang of something you don’t recognize flashes in your chest-- guilt? Betrayal? You push it aside-- that wasn’t what you came here to do. “We’re not the couple that doesn’t talk. If you want to yell, you can yell, but we don’t shut each other out. That’s not us. So go ahead and get it out so we can move past it,” you attempt to sound cool and aloof, even if you are feeling a little vulnerable and desperate. 

   “You disobeyed a direct order,” Hotch says. 

“I did,” you agreed. 

“What, and you don’t even have an issue with it?” He asks you, his tone harsh. 

“He had a weapon, Hotch. And it was drawn on a little girl. What was I supposed to do?” You shot back.

“You were supposed to wait for backup. We hadn’t profiled that he would hurt her,” he tells you, the strain of contained rage in his tone.

“Is that a chance you would have taken? Is it a chance you would have wanted someone to take if it was your son?”

“It’s not a chance I would have taken-- but I can’t take chances with you, either,” he admits, and his confession hangs in the air for a moment. You realize this is his way of telling you how much he cares about you-- walls too high to be truly vulnerable, he has to shroud his disclosure in an argument. “You could have been hurt,” he tells you.

“I could have,” you agreed. “But I’m here, with you, and I’m okay,” you remind him, stepping closer to him, taking his hands in your own to ground him, remind him that everything had turned out okay this time. 

It takes a beat, but Aaron responds in kind, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer, and crushing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You smile into the kiss, letting Aaron lead you backwards towards his bedroom as you wind your fingers in his hair, letting your forearms rest on his shoulders. 

“Were you serious about your punishment?” Aaron asks, his voice somewhere between a whisper and a growl, and you smile. 

“Yes, sir.”

You can feel the air shift in an instant, as Aaron sits at the edge of his bed. “Come on, then. Over my knee,” he tells you impatiently, and you feel a rush of warmth in your core as you move to comply. He stops you. “Pants off. Panties too,” he tells you, and you strip from the waist down before climbing across his lap. He lays his hand against your ass and you feel goosebumps form against his tender touch. 

“I think five is fair-- do you think five is fair, angel?” He asks, pulling your head up by the hair so you can look him in the eye. 

“Yes sir,” you agree-- he always asked before engaging in any sort of impact play, never wanted to give you more than you could handle, and you appreciated it-- even if five did seem like it would be a walk in the park. 

He lands a swift spank against your bare ass cheek and you feel it flood your center almost immediately. “One. Thank you for my spanking, Sir,” you let out almost as if it were a reflex. 

“Good girl,” he encourages you, rubbing at the tender flesh before his hand comes down against the opposite cheek.

“Two, thank you for punishing me, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, angel. Just a few more,” he encourages you, his sweet words a direct contrast to the sharp pain of his hand coming back down against you. 

“Three, thank you Sir.” 

“You belong to me, kitten. I need you to take good care of what’s mine, that’s all,” he reminds you with another spank. 

“Four, thank you Sir. Thank you for taking good care of what’s yours,” you affirm, and he delivers your last spank. 

“Five, thank you Sir,” you breathed out as your hips rocked, incredibly turned on before he had even truly touched you.

Aaron wrapped his arms around you, moving to hold you close for a moment. “There, sweet girl. I need you to help me to take good care of you-- you are very special. It’s my job to make sure nothing happens to you, but I need your help, okay?” 

“Yes, sir,” you tell him, reaching out to hold his face in your hands. 

“Good. Color?” 

“Green, sir.” 

He nods, permission granted to continue, shifting to help you off his lap and onto the bed. “Ass up, slut,” he commands gruffly, and by now you’re certain that you’re dripping down your thighs. You’d find out soon enough, you supposed, as you leaned onto your elbows and knees, raising yourself into a kneeling position, legs spread for Aaron. You heard, rather than saw, Aaron disrobing, which only added to your arousal. 

You feel the mattress dip as Aaron pulls himself up behind you. 

“Oh angel, you’re dripping. Nasty whore,” he smirks, sticking one finger inside of you, but withdrawing it immediately when you rolled against him. “Ah, ah.” he warns you. “Don’t try that again.”

So you hold still, as he pumps one and then two fingers in and out of you. You moan, cry out, beg for more-- but you don’t move.

“Sir, please,” you pant.

“You can move, sweet girl,” he grants you permission, and you start rocking your hips into his fingers immediately, wantonly, letting out a moan that makes Aaron’s cock twitch painfully. You shift your weight onto one elbow, moving one hand towards your center, which Aaron bats out of the way, slapping your swollen clit. 

“Fuck!” you cry out. 

“I said you could move. I didn’t say anything about touching, slut. Don’t make me tie you up, too.” He warns you. 

Half of you hoped that he would, but you were already desperate to cum and you didn’t know how much more you could take. You doubled down on your thrusts into Aaron’s hand, whimpering and panting the whole way. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, Aaron pulled his hand out of you, and you whimpered. 

“Sir,” you said weakly. You hadn’t been expecting that, and you wanted to cum so bad you thought you might cry. 

“Ah ah. What do you say?” He asks. 

“Thank you. Thank you for edging me, Sir,” you panted out, still coming down from your near-miss. 

“That’s my good little whore,” he cooed out. “I want you to ask permission tonight, angel. Color?”

“Green, sir.” You affirmed. “I won’t cum until you give me permission.

“Good, angel, good,” he said, lazily rubbing at your clit, and you whimpered. You’d never come like this, but you’d get increasingly more frustrated. “And why do you need to wait for permission?’ 

“Because I’m Sir’s dirty little whore,” you moaned out, the words turning you on even more as you attempted to grind down on Aaron’s hand. 

“That’s right, good girl,” he said, stepping away from you. “All fours, my love,” he tells you, and you roll up to your knees and elbows. You hear a foil wrapper tear, and without warning Aaron is stretching you. It feels delicious, makes you heady, and you cry out as he starts thrusting in and out of you. 

“You make me feel so good, sweet girl. You’re such a good girl, taking me so well and making such pretty noises. Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes sir, you make me feel so good,” you affirm, the words coming out in a shaky breath. After a few moments, you feel the coil begin to wind up inside of you. 

“Sir, may I please cum?” You ask. 

“No, not yet.” He answers simply, like you’d asked him if it had started to rain, or if dinner was ready. 

“Please, sir. Please, please let me cum,” you begged. 

“Not. Yet,” he affirmed, leaning forward to paw at your clit, which caused you to cry out. “Are you going to thank me?” Aaron asks, but you’re too overwhelmed to understand the question. “Are you going to thank me when I make you come?” He asks. 

“Yes, sir, please please make me come.” 

“Go ahead, angel,” he tells you, and the rubber band snaps. 

“Thank you sir, thank you, thank you, thank you,” you scream as you buck against him. He guides you through your orgasm, gently brings you back to reality once the pleasure has subsided, holding you gently and whispering words of encouragement in your ear. 

“I have to clean you up, sweet girl. Is it okay if I get up, or do you need me to stay here a little while longer? It’s okay if you do. You did such an amazing job,” he assures you, and you nod. 

“I’m okay, hon. Bring back water, please? And maybe some fruit snacks.” 

He rolls his eyes at you, again, but it’s the endearing kind again, and you smile. The two of you would be okay.

After he cleans you up, you head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and snuggle back into his arms as soon as you're back in bed.

“I was so scared, and I still had to be your boss, first, and I hate that,” Aaron tells you. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” you tell him, shifting so that you’re facing him. “It’s something we should talk about-- me transferring.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You’re not changing your career path for me,” he is quick to correct you. 

“What did you mean, then?” You asked. Surely he wasn’t thinking of stepping down?

“Well, I was hoping… that you might want to tell the team about us? I don’t want to rush you, so if it’s a no, that’s fine and I won’t bring it up again. I understand the professional risks are--” you cut him off with a kiss. 

“I only suggested it because I thought you wouldn’t want people to know.” You tell him. 

“Why wouldn’t I want the team to know how much I love you?” He asks, and you smile. Yeah, the two of you would be okay.  

  tagging: : @bauhousewife @just-a-fangirl-xd @angelic-kisses13 @sleepyreaderreads @ssamorganhotchner @wolviesbbeslrblg @xyzhoneybee@choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides@itsmytimetoodream @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar @scuttling  

[dameronology]

the one where he doesn’t listen (poe x reader)

summary: poe dameron + ‘i think we should take a break’ ‘you’re right - we’ll get some food, cool down and then we can talk about this’ no, i mean a break from us’

warnings: language 

i PROMISE i am working on some fluff, i know literally everything i’m writing at the moment is angst but like 80% of my requests are for angst...and i just hope u guys are okay lol love u 

enjoy,

- jazz

‘Would you just listen to me?!’

You ignored the calls of your boyfriend, violently kicking open the door to the air hangar. You stormed inside, a scowl on your face - you didn’t notice Jessika and Snap jump back at the sight of you. You breezed through the base, boots thumping into the concrete floors, steps like thunder. You couldn’t even look at Poe - you might throttle him otherwise.

You usually embraced his rebelliousness. His courage was one of the many things you loved about him - but this was your mission. You were the commander. It was a different story when he was ignoring your orders. The whole operation had been blown up because he couldn’t listen for once in his life. 

‘Baby, please-’

You stopped in your tracks, and Poe crashed into your back with a grunt. You turned to face him, and for a split second, he held out his arms. The action, however, was quickly retracted when you jabbed your finger into his chest. He silently thanked whichever god was up there that looks couldn’t kill - if they could, yours would have been a weapon of mass destruction.

‘The one time I need you to listen!’ You snapped. ‘The one fucking time, Poe!’

‘I said I was sorry-’

‘- sorry doesn’t get me my mission back!’ You continued, cutting him off. ‘Sorry doesn’t change the fact you ignored me. Sorry doesn’t change the fact you went against my direct orders!’

There was a little bit more to it than his disobedience. You weren’t a superior behind a comms link, barking orders at him. You were his partner - the one person you’d hoped would be the exception to his insubordination. That was what was causing most of the fuel behind your rage. 

Poe bit his lip, nodding. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’

‘How?’ You snorted. ‘You find a time machine and go back and unfuck this up for me?’

He grimaced, hopelessly scrambling to find something - anything - to say that could possibly calm you down. ‘I’ll explain it to Leia. I’ll take the fall.’

‘That was gonna be the case anyways.’ You murmured. 

Poe reached out to grab your hand, but you swatted it away. 

‘Don’t.’ You shook your head. ‘Look, I’m gonna go to my quarters and get the mission report done. I need time to think - and maybe a wall to punch.’

‘Wait,’ His mouth dropped open, and that was when the magnitude of his actions finally seemed to click. ‘This isn’t gonna change anything is it, for us?’

You knew the us that Poe was referring to - and he didn’t mean your professional relationship. He meant the us, us. The us that had sneaky kisses and escapades in broom closets. The us that laid together at night in each other’s arms, discussing everything from from work that day to theories about the deepest, darkest galaxies. The us that might have been the only stable thing in Poe Dameron’s unpredictable life. 

‘I don’t know.’ You sighed. ‘I just need time to think.’

You paused, the volume of the situation beginning to cause the descend down a slippery slope of misery and rage. 

How could he do this to you? You knew that the flyboy was capable of some exceptionally dumb things, but this one took the crown. This was the grand finale that completed The Chronicles of Poe Dameron’s Dumbassery (patent pending). 

Poe grabbed your arm, glancing around at your co-workers. Most of them had left the room when you entered - news of the mission had quickly spread about the base and people did not want to get in your way. Even Threepio had made a point to not go near you. Still, the pilot dragged you from the walkway and towards an empty space behind his X-Wing. The ship was splattered with dents and chips from the TIE fighters that had chased you out of the planet you’d been on. Perhaps that would be the epilogue in the aforementioned book.

‘Baby,’ his voice almost broke, desperate as he grabbed your face in his hands. ‘I would give anything to go back and undo what I did, literally anything, but I can’t-’

‘- I know you can’t.’ You moved his hands, momentarily intertwining your fingers. ‘It can just be so exhausting, Poe. I love you so much but you don’t think about the people around you.

You moved away from him, propping yourself up against the ladder of his jet. Your feet swayed back and forth for a moment as you thought. You were hurting- teetering on the edge of pure insanity, ping-ponging between your intense love for the man in front of you and your frustration at the situation.

‘I think we should take a break.’

You knew that you didn’t mean it. The second the words left your mouth, you wanted to swat them out the air, throw them to the ground like dead flies. Some childish part of you just wanted to scare him, to make him feel what you’d felt. 

‘You’re right,’ Poe nodded. ‘We’ll get some food, cool down and then we can talk about this-’

‘- no, Poe.’ Your voice cracked slightly. ‘I mean a break from us.’

‘You’re breaking up with me?’

‘No, not a break up. Just a break.’ You stood up.

You saw the hurt on his face; the anguish, the torment. More than ever, you wanted to wrap your arms around him; to hug him, to run your hands through his stupidly soft hair and hold him and promise to hurt whoever it was that was causing his distress. But it was you. Was love always this much agony?

‘I gotta clear my head.’ You whispered, slipping by him as you walked away.

--

A few hours later, you were even more angry that you had been when this whole thing started. You were no longer just enraged at Poe - you were now pissed off with yourself. Why had you said that? Why had you let the heat of the situation push you over the edge and say such stupid things?

Three hours without Poe by your side felt like a lifetime - a long, sad, empty lifetime. You’d been sat on your bed, handing resting on the empty space where he should have been. You were still furious at him but that didn’t mean you wanted to be without him.

You let out a sigh, watching as BB-8 circled the floor in front of you. He’d followed you back from the hangar, beeping something about relaxation methods. But aside from that, he’d been pretty silent. You felt like he was a kid who’d seen his parents have a fight. 

‘Where is Poe?’ You asked quietly, moving down to kneel in front of the droid, fixing his antenna. ‘In Finn’s room? I know right, where else?’

Grabbing the nearest jacket from your desk, you tugged it over your shoulders. As the heavy leather fell over your torso, you realised it with Poe’s - he’d lent it to you on your third date. It occasionally lead to a few awkward situations where you, Finn and Poe all turned up wearing matching jackets, given that the pilot had also gifted one to his friend. 

You made your way to Finn’s quarters, BB-8 rolling behind you. He’d perked up a bit at the prospect of his parents you and Poe working it out. Nobody liked to see you guys fight. You knocked on the door twice - usually, you were close enough with Finn to walk in unannounced, but with the given circumstances, you didn’t want to just swan inside.

A few seconds later, the door opened, and he greeted you with a smile. ‘Y/N!’

‘Hey, Finn.’ You greeted him. BB-8 nudged past his leg, rolling inside without waiting for an invitation. 

‘Poe’s inside.’ He said, stepping aside. ‘I’ll give you guys some space, but please don’t do anything in my bed.’

You rolled your eyes. ‘Finn.’

‘Just saying!’ He ruffled your hair as you walked by.

Poe was sat on Finn’s bed, a holopad in one hand and a cup of caff in the other. He’d clearly heard the exchange at the door and was trying to play it cool - something at which he was failing miserably. 

‘Hey,’ you greeted him quietly. You gently took a seat on the bed next to him, pulling the holopad from his hands. ‘Wanna talk?’

‘Is there much to say?’ His voice was cold, and you almost did a double take.

‘Poe,’ you sighed. ‘I don’t want to break up, or go on a break, or whatever it was that I said.’

His brown eyes lit up slightly, and he finally turned to look at you. The last three hours had been equally painful for him - he thought he’d lost you. There was a lot of things that terrified him but there was nothing that scared him more than the idea of life without you by his side. He would have rather gone up against Kylo Ren with a pencil for a weapon than let go of you.

‘I got caught up in the heat of the moment,’ you continued. ‘You hurt me, and I think I was reaching for something that might make you feel the same.’

‘Well, you made me feeling something that was deep, dark and pretty terrible.’ Poe tried to joke, but he couldn’t hide the wavering in his voice. He reached to take your hands in his, and your heart broke when you realised they were shaking. ‘But that’s not a lot compared to what it feels like to lose a mission - especially because of me.’

‘I don’t care that we lost the mission. That happens all the time - it just hurts that you didn’t listen to me.’ You explained. ‘I guess I felt like you didn’t respect me.’

‘I do!’ Poe’s eyes widened. ‘I would...I would do anything for you. You know that, right? You tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it-’

‘- I just want you to listen to me.’ You cut him off. ‘That’s it.’

‘I can do that.’ A smile finally fell onto his lips. He pressed a kiss to your lips, and you felt yourself finally relax. You were going to be okay.

‘I’m still fucking furious at you, though.’ Your words didn’t quite match your actions; with one hand tangled in his hair and one resting on his face, you seemed to be more sweet than intimidating. ‘But I love you, and whatever this is, we’re gonna work through it.’

‘I love you too.’ He pulled you in for another kiss. ‘And I will never, ever do anything stupid again.’

‘I give it five minutes tops.’

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Magnus Proposal 💍

OKAY LISTEN. @baebeyza SAID SHE WAS GONNA DO ART BASED ON WHAT IM ABOUT TO PUT OUT THERE, SO FUCKS SAKES HOPE THIS IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU GUYS.

Magnus couldn’t believe he was doing this. So many years of his life spent free roaming, fueled by vengeance, all put to a halt, just because he had feelings for someone. He never thought this would happen, and he contemplated if his feelings were genuine, but he wasn’t a dumb mech. The way he snapped to attention whenever he called his name, the way he dug himself as priority in his mind, even the fact that he felt that stupid, fuzzy warmth in his chest upon being called ‘Mag-chan’. He drove down the freeway on his way to the base, really thinking about this. Should he have even bought a ring? Was that too human? Not human enough? Would a classic conjux proposal be better? Was now even the right time to-

“Ultra Magnus.”

Ugh. His pain in the aft brother was on the comm link. He thought of ignoring it, before deciding to just bite the bullet.

“What do you want?”

“I have a mission for you. We need surveillance down by the docs, and-”

“Hate sea water. Pass.”

“Side Burn will be there.”

There was a moment of silence, before Ultra Magnus made a U turn, heading right for the docs.

“Fine. Only because I know he’s just gonna be a menace to any red car he sees.”

“uh huh. Thank you, brother.”

“God I’m gonna enjoy tearing out your spark one of these days.”

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

“Mag-chan!”

Ultra Magnus skidded to a halt once he saw Side burn, sitting by a storage container, wave at him. He transformed, and walked up to him, before sitting right next to him.

“Side Burn. Good to see you. So, what’s the mission?”

“Optimus didn’t tell you?”

“I kinda tune him out, honestly. Just because you get along with your brothers, doesn't mean I have to.”

“You should try. Big guy cares about you. I mean we all do, but it’s bound to hit differently with him.”

Ultra Magnus just gave a nod in response. He tried not to bring his brother into the conversation. Side Burn placed his chin on his hand, staring out into the water.

“Anyhow, the mission is just keep an eye on the cargo containers. Been getting reports of some of them getting stolen, we think its the decepticons. It’s not exciting, but hey, glad you’re here.”

“Why ARE you on this kinda mission? Last I checked, you hated surveillance.”

“Oh I do. But Prime essentially made this my punishment. Might’ve...blocked traffic because I saw a sports car, and stuff just kinda happened.”

“Primus sakes, is that your ONLY type?”

“Well, I do like big, blue, and grumpy mechs too. But, think you kinda knew that already.”

Side Burn and Ultra Magnus weren’t official (yet), but they had been involved for quite some time. Two years. Long for some humans, but absolutely nothing in terms of Cybertronians. He couldn’t believe that THIS was enough time for him. He scoffed a bit as Side Burn gave him those optics. He knew the speedster in and out, and he wanted a kiss. Who was he to deny him? He was about to lean in for it, when his sensors suddenly gave him an alert. He stood to attention, before pulling out his cattling gun, and firing right into the water. Skybyte leapt out of water, alongside Slapper, both seeming frazzled by being caught. They transformed into robot mode.

“Thought you said they wouldn’t see us if we took an underwater route?”

“I THOUGHT that would work!”

“You think a lot of stuff works. Like your paint job.”

“WHAT WAS THAT?!”

Side Burn stood up, and pointed his weapon right alongside Ultra Magnus. Ultra Magnus cleared his intake, getting their attention.

“If you two are done floundering around, think it’s time we kick your afts.”

The Predacons looked at each other, then themselves. Then they both suddenly grabbed a cargo container, and bolted down the highway. Side Burn tucked his weapon away, looking at Ultra Magnus.

“They split up, you handle Shark bait, I’ll get toadsworth over there, meet back here for recon.”

“Got it.”

Ultra Magnus hated being told what to do. By anyone who WASN’T Side Burn. He transformed, and bolted down the streets. Finhead was causing quite the ruckus, and it was almost impossible to still hold the chase, as well as the traffic laws. You’d think that wasn’t important in all of these, but these humans did nothing to deserve any of their conflict. Skybyte turned a corner into a tunnel, and Ultra Magnus followed him. That was when he nearly had to laugh, realizing chum bucket here took him right to a dead end. They both transformed, and looked at each other, both in awe of the bullshit before them.

“I...think you should let me take this. If anything, I showed initiative.”

“You understand I’m just gonna kick your aft and take that crate from you, right?”

“ON THE GLORY OF MEGATRON, I SWEAR I’LL-OW!”

Ultra Magnus slapped him across his face, before taking the crate right from his hands. Skybyte tried to get a blast of his to hit, before Ultra Magnus grabbed his face, making him flail in panic. He was about to really go in on him for wasting time, before he suddenly got a comm call.

“Side Burn? You good?”

“Yeah,I caught frogger here, I just need help with the crate. It’s heavier than what I’m used to. You got captain ugly?”

“Yep. I’ll be on my way.”

Skybyte gave a nervous laugh upon seeing the other’s scowl.

“I’m...totally sharkfin soup at this point, aren’t I?”

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

Ultra Magnus pulled up to the other side of the highway, a tied up (and still complaining) Skybyte in his trailer. He transformed upon seeing Side Burn, a crate next him, and him sitting on a beat up looking Slapper. Side Burn grinned as he saw him.

“Hey, you made it!”

“Course, you asked me to.”

Ultra Magnus hoisted both crates over his shoulders, and Side Burn grinned up at him as he pulled Slapper to their side. They would just be held back at base for questioning if anything. It was better than having them roaming the streets. Side Burn grinned as he poked his chest.

“You know, we work good together. We really should get stuck on more missions together.”

“We really should get married.”

It was abrupt, sudden, and not at ALL how he wanted this proposal. Side Burn blinked as he tried to take in what he had just said.

“...Say that again.”

Ultra Magnus should’ve made up some lie. Something so he can give him an actual, proper proposal. But, he couldn’t lie to him, couldn’t disobey him. It was just the rush of a catch, the way he was smiling at him, the way he said what he said- it just made him go on autopilot. So, he just rolled with it.

“I said, I think we should get married. I like you, you like me, and I’ve never met anyone like you. I enjoy taking care of you, and I like the ability to make you mine. I’m not gonna bitch and moan if I get a no, but I’ve...thought about this a lot. Look, I even bought this for you.”

He dropped one crate right onto Slapper (who cares about that guy anyway), before pulling a ring from his sub space. Side Burn was silent as Magnus kept going on.

“I know it’s an earth thing, but...I like it here. I like it here, with you, listening to you complain and watching you being stupid. In all honesty, I think I can go so far that I love you, Side Burn. I won’t obey any command that isn’t from you. And if your command is to not pull this again, then I’ll follow it. I’ll follow you, always.”

Side Burn blinked as he looked at the ring, then at Magnus. Magnus waited in silence for who knows how long, and it was an ache in his spark. He was about to pull away, before Side Burn grabbed onto the ringed hand. He nodded.

“I will.”

“You...serious?”

“Yes!! I like you a lot to! You’re a good friend, you’re kind when you gotta be, you’re strong, and I trust you. I...I would love to be your conjux.”

“Oh, how sweet-OW!”

Skybyte canned it after Ultra Magnus banged against his trailer with his pede. Side Burn grinned, before reaching up, and planting a kiss against his lips. It was a brief kiss, more in relief than anything, before Side Burn chuckled.

“You think you could try red paint? Like once?”

“...I can’t believe I gotta take care of you for the rest of my life.”

Ultra Magnus squished his face in his free hand, before chuckling.

“I’ll try it ONCE. But YOU gotta tell your brothers about us now.

“Fair.”

Ultra Magnus couldn’t believe he was marrying this idiot. It wasn’t like having the matrix. To him,

it was better.

[lynn-writes-things]

Good thing u reopened ❤. Since the new trailer i cant stop thinking about my big boy Wrecker...so you can do whatever (even a post war au-everybody lives with a bit of struggling) and u can get spicy if u want (im a big girl cant handle it...or him 👀) so i thought make a donation to request. If u need a prompt, a soulmate is one of my weakness....

Thank you so so so much for the donation!!! and the request, I had so much fun writing this!! I really really hope you enjoy this, and if not, let me know and I’ll redo it!! Thank you again!!!! <3

Word count: 2330

Warnings: nsfw at the end, mentions of sex, ptsd, nightmares, mentions of violence and injury

You’ll never forget the day it was announced that the war had ended. You’ll never forget the moment, you were waiting at your apartment for Wrecker, when you heard over the radio that the war had officially ended. Chancellor Palpatine had been exposed as a Sith Lord by none other than Fox, who had gotten a recording to the Jedi of Palpatine giving orders to Dooku- Dooku even referred to Palpatine as Lord Sidious, removing any trace of doubt. When Wrecker came through your door, you were already crying tears of happiness. You couldn’t believe it- you just couldn’t.

That night, Wrecker took you to 79’s to celebrate with the boys. It was where the two of you had met. Now that the war was over, he had a very important question to ask you, and he wanted his brothers to be there to experience it.

-

The air was cold, and your dress was entirely too short. You had been practically abandoned by your friends, who had convinced you to come out for a couple drinks. Admittedly, you felt foolish for thinking that they would’ve stuck around once they finally talked you out of your house. You had been so busy studying lately that you never got time to have any fun, and though they should’ve been having fun with you, they chose the company of a few clone troopers instead.

“Hey,” Came a voice from behind you. You turned, and came face to… chest, with the largest clone you’d ever met. “You look a little lost.” He commented with a kind smile. Only one of his eyes had an iris, and you found that it sparkled so radiantly that you couldn’t look away.

“Yeah, my friends sort of ditched me.” You said sheepishly.

“That’s not very nice of them,” He commented. “Want to grab a drink with me?”

“I—” You usually would say no, but you figured- fuck it, why not? He was cute, and seemed nice. What’s one drink? “Yeah, actually- I’d love that.” The two of you make your way to the bar, where you both sit and he orders you a drink.

“What’s in this?” You ask, sniffing the brightly colored beverage.

“It’s a surprise!” He laughed. “It’s nothing too heavy, trust me.”

“No offense, but I think we have drastically different perspectives on what is or isn’t a heavy drink.” You joke, and Wrecker belts out a laugh, just happy that you’re finally starting to relax. He couldn’t get over the way you looked- he wanted to take you back to meet his brothers, but he knew that it was way too soon for that sort of thing. He wanted to ask you to be his girlfriend on the spot, but again, he knew better. You try a sip of your drink, and you hum in appreciation for the sweet flavor of the beverage. It hardly tastes like alcohol at all.

“This is really good,” You comment.

“I told you!” He cheers, taking a swig of his own drink. “So, what happened with your friends?” He asks. You were sort of surprised that he remembered you even mentioned them. You had almost forgotten that you had mentioned them.

“Oh, they do this every time they get me out of the house,” You say with a sigh. “I don’t get it. They always want me to come out, but they never want to stick around me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” He answers. “Who wouldn’t want to hang out with you?” He asks earnestly, and you can’t help but blush.

“You hardly know me.” You say with a lighthearted roll of your eyes.

“Well, I like what I know about you so far.” He smiles, and you can’t help but return it. “And I think you’re beautiful, so I don’t see who wouldn’t want to be around you.”

-

The bar was quiet tonight, unlike the night you first met. But that was okay. It meant for more privacy, which meant Hunter could actually breathe. He was the only one who knew what was going to be happening tonight, and he found that he could hardly stop smiling. He was just so excited and proud of his little brother. The first of them to get married was a big achievement, one that Crosshair would never be able to hold over his head. When you caught on to all of his smiling, Hunter just brushed it off by saying he was just happy that the war had finally ended. You had bought it.

“Hey,” Wrecker nudged you, you had him trapped in the booth. “Can I get out?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” You said, standing up. He did the same, only before you had the chance to sit back down, he dropped to one knee and pulled out the ring he had been holding onto for months now. He knew he wanted to propose to you for ages now, but he always just felt he had to wait for the right time. And, well, this felt like the right time.

“Y/N,” He starts, clearing his throat. Tech starts recording without your knowledge. “I’ve known you were meant to be mine from the first moment I saw you here, years ago.” He says. “I knew from the first time I looked into your eyes that you were the only one for me. You’re my soulmate, Y/N.” He’s tearing up, which is making both you and Hunter tear up as well. You had your hand over your mouth in shock. “Will you please make me the happiest man alive and please be my wife?”

“Yes!” You yelled, gaining the attention of every clone in the bar. “Yes, Wrecker- yes!” You’re crying now, and everyone in the bar cheers. Wrecker stands, and places the ring on your finger. You jump into his arms and kiss him as hard as you could. It was salty, the combined taste of both of your tears. The boys are all cheering the loudest, even Crosshair is smiling.

-

“Okay, okay, my turn,” You began, popping a fry into your mouth. You’d moved to a booth in the back, bonding over beers, shots, and fries. “Would you rather have sex with a Togruta or a Twi’lek?” You ask, alcohol swimming in your veins.

“Depends, which one’s hotter?” He asks, and you snort.

“They’re both pretty hot.”

“Are you there?”

“Why would I be there?” You laugh.

“Because if you’re there, I’m picking you regardless.” He promises with a wink.

“Okay, that was a good one.” You laugh, shaking your head. You couldn’t remember when you started holding hands across the table, but you were reminded by the warmth.

“My turn,” He states. “Would you rather fuck me or a reg?” He asks with a smrik.

“I don’t even know what a ‘reg’ is, but I’d definitely rather fuck you.” You answer, blinking with both eyes, causing both of you to burst out laughing. You laugh so hard that beer comes out of your nose, which makes Wrecker laugh so hard he’s pounding his fist on the table. When the two of you sober up, you agree to head back to your place for the night, with promises to show you why they call him Wrecker.

-

You wake up for the third night in a row to Wrecker yelling. He’s sitting up, covered in a layer of sweat. He’s horrified, again. It hurts you deeply that there isn’t more you can do to help him – he is your soulmate after all.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask gently, your arms around him.

“Tech,” Is all he says, and you know all of the details without him having to talk about them. He has had the same nightmare every night since the war had ended and he’d been away from his brothers.

In the dream, they were back on the battlefield, and it’s during a battle that doesn’t go to plan. It starts off fine, though it doesn’t stay fine for very long. Droids get airdropped in from every direction – faster than they can take them out – and they’re overwhelmed before they even know what’s going on. Tech gets captured, and by the time they all find him, he’s badly injured and barely alive. But, in the nightmare, Tech doesn’t make it, and Wrecker’s the one to find him. He blames himself.

“Do you want to call him?” You ask. “He might like to hear from you.”

“I… Yeah.” He says with a shaky sigh. You comm Tech, who’s still awake, and he and Wrecker talk for the better part of two hours while you cuddle up with Wrecker. You gently caress him and place gentle, soft kisses anywhere that you can reach. By the time he hangs up, you can tell Wrecker is feeling better.

“I wish there was more I do to help you, my love.” You say, kissing his cheek.

“You’re here for me,” He says. “That’s all I need from you.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I know.” He smiles softly. You kiss his lips now that he is no longer on the line with Tech, and he kisses back eagerly, passionately, trying to show you just how “okay” it was that you did everything you could to help him when he needed it. To show you how much he appreciates you taking care of him.

“I love you,” He sighs against your lips.

“I love you too,” You whisper against his. The kiss deepens, his tongue prodding for entrance, which you happily allow.

-

You don’t even end up fucking that night, you both agree that neither of you are sober enough to make that choice. But, you agree to spend the night together anyways, and see where things go in the morning. You can ride out your hangovers together.

You wake up first, to find the human equivalent of a heater curled around your body. You melt into his touch, and it’s the closest to heaven you think you’ve ever been. You wiggle out of his embrace, and promptly go throw up in the refresher, brushing your teeth afterwards and getting a glass of water. You down two pain killers with the water, and refill the cup, setting two more pain killers on the bedside table on Wrecker’s side, along with the refilled cup of water.

When he wakes up, you’re in the kitchen making caff, needing the caffeine.

“Morning, gorgeous.” He smiles at you. He barely even squints at the morning sun, and you’re reminded once more than being as large as he is must have it’s advantages.

“Morning, handsome.” You smile back, sipping your mug of caff. He walks over and places a soft kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of caff. “Want a cup?”

“I’d love some.” He smiles. You fix him a cup of caff, and you both sit and watch the morning news.

“So, about last night…” He begins, and you feel your heart sink with anxiety. “I really would like to get to know you better.”

“I… I’d like to get to know you better too, Wrecker.” You smile. “You seem like a really kind, funny guy.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, angel.” He says.

“I want you to be yourself,” You laugh. “I like you quite a lot.”

“I like you, too.” He smiles. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you while Wrecker thinks of something – something you can’t read in his eye. “Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks at last. You beam at him.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Wrecker.” You answer happily.

­-

The kissing grows to him laying you on the bed and rutting against you, his lips never leaving yours. You breathe out that you want him, and Wrecker doesn’t hesitate to start fingering you, stretching you open with care. He knew he was bigger than most, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt you – so he did this every single time the two of you had sex.

By the time his cock finally enters you, you’re keening, fucking yourself on his cock. He chuckles at your attempts, before finally giving you what you want. The most amazing part about fucking Wrecker is that he fills you up so perfectly, he manages to hit your g-spot and your cervix without even adjusting his angles – it just naturally happens. You’re convinced that he’s your soulmate, every detail proves it to you, even down to the size of his dick. He starts a slow and sensual pace, before the pleasure starts to get too much for him, and he can’t help but speed up. You’re a moaning mess, crying out in ecstasy with every thrust of his hips.

“Where?” He asks in a pant, and you don’t even need to hear the full question to know.

“Well, I was thinking,” You start, and his pace slows just a little so he can intently listen. “Since we’re engaged now…”

“I… Yeah? Really?!” He asks, sounding enthusiastic and in disbelief.

“Put a baby in me, Wreck.” You plead, and he groans. His big, calloused fingers find your clit, determined to make you come before he does. It doesn’t take long to send you spiraling over the edge, crying out his name as you came messily all over his perfect cock. Wrecker grunts animalistically as he comes inside you, not stopping until you’re filled to the brim with his seed. When he’s done, he stays sheathed inside of you, holding his come in you for several minutes before finally pulling out and laying beside you, pulling you close. You relax into his grip, still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You’re going to be such an amazing mom,” He says. “I’ll have so much fun making you one.”

“I love you, Wreck.” You say softly, nuzzling against his chest. “You’ll be an incredible father.”

“I love you too, angel.”

[seijorhi]

asks :)

y’all are killing me, but like in the best possible way 😭

rhi,,, i have been FED. i am so GRATEFUL for the MEAL. 😤 it never ceases to amaze me how talented you are 😭💞 seijoh supremecy reigns!!! and let me tell you,,, makki... just.... ✨makki “stronger than he looks, makki”✨ i frothed,,, we love our underappreciated strawberry on this blog!!!

all i want is for makki to pin me down and fuck me until i’m sobbing. and timeskip makki?? i love him so much 🥺 

and thank you, bby!! 

Rhi. First of all holy shit??? I had to take a deep breath because holy fuck that was just 🥵🥵🥵. I rarely read Mattsun or Makki fics but ugh, I really looked forward to this and holy hell you did not disappoint! Damn. Because you mentioned that this was supposed to be another Seijoh 4 fic, I'd like to consider this as an alternate version of your Manager au and ugh the biggest question! Who did Makki send the pics to? Oikawa and Iwa to tell them what they're missing out? Or to the mystery boyfriend because they finally staked their claim on reader-chan?

Hmmm seeing that the Jackals are the ones in Osaka, I feel like it's any of the four? Omg what if it was Hinata???? But I'll probably feel sad if it was Meian cuz I love him 😭😭😭

sdfghjjhgfhjkl thank you!!!!! i was like ‘okay, you’re not gonna make this about all four of them’ and then my brain ignored all of that entirely and decided just to sprinkle in some hints. i like to think that a lot of things that probably crossed a line happened back in their last year at highschool between all five of them that the reader either rationalises or brushed off, so it is kind of intended as an alternate manager au i guess.

and yeah, makki sent the pics to both iwa, oikawa and your (soon to be ex) boyfriend :)

Hot damn! Baby it’s cold outside is phenomenal!!! I loved the buildup. Am I wrong to assume that iwa and oikawa had some idea of what was going to happen?

oh no, they absolutely knew 👀 and thank you!!

wait omg did makki send those pics to himself or to your boyfriend (perhaps iwa and oikawa?) but wow amazing work as always!! 💕

one set to your boyfriend, another to their captain 😌

Sooo, Oikawa and Iwa were in on it, but why didn't they want to take part?

it’s not so much that they didn’t want to, more that they didn’t want to overwhelm you all once - but dw, they haven’t gone far 👀

The funny thing about timezones is that I often read your fics a few minutes after I wake up at 5am and lol, I end up thinking about them the whole day. They're basically my breakfast at this point lol

timezones are a bitch and i would fight them bare fisted if i could. no but that’s probably the best way to read them, still half asleep 😂 thank you tho!! i’m glad you like them so much!

i love ur soulmate aus 😭 sometimes i wish i could read outrunning fate for the first time again

this is so sweet, thank you, bby!!

out of all your oikawa’s, which one is your fave 😌

but i love them all so much?? unpopular opinion i think, but maybe home! oikawa

kuroo calling you “kitten/sweetheart” and oikawa calling you “his pretty girl/cutie” makes me 🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

this makes me so happy because i am an absolute whore for pet-names so they inevitably find their way into my fics - glad i’m not the only one who like them haha

i hesrd soulmate dabihawks and my brain malfunctioned in a good way we can never be sick of soulmate aus

i think i promised to write something for dabi & hawks waaaay back when i started this blog and i still haven’t so maybe now’s the perfect time 👀

ahhhhh im literally gonna go beserk when u open comms i got a whole note in my notes app titled 'bbydoll comms' n like its just a list of comm ideas im so fucking excited

wait, really?? omfg you’re gonna make me melt!!

you're my favourite writer!! each one of your fics is always so well written and interesting and i just--- omg. i have reread practically all your work i literally always go back to it <3

thank you so much, you’re so nice i hope you’re having a good day, bby!

saw dark content slander “ur sick bastards, get help” I AM BEYOND FUCKING PISSEd who the hell are y’all to tell us what to do and what to like. wtf. i’ve been seeing so much shit and it’s like “ok, and??” mind ur own fucking business, block. no one needs to hear ur opinion about it lmao. they be acting like they’re content makes them a better person. what u condone irl and what u condone in fiction is very very different. anyways thanks for listening to my rant, i’m sure u get a lot of shit from random people about dc haha

it’s frustrating, but at the end of the day it’s better just to ignore it and keep enjoying the content you want to - that’s not hurting anybody. you’re never going to change their minds and they’re not interested in that - so long as the content is appropriately tagged it shouldn’t be an issue, but i get where the frustration comes into play

and honestly compared to a lot of dark content writers i think i get off pretty lightly with hate, thank god

[aegissi]

my bts concert experience in bullet points

this is gonna be long!!!

namjoon looked so good. litcherally. i was ready to risk it all for him. seeing him on screen during the first song (it was dionysus) felt like getting hit by a train. 

speaking of dionysus,,, everyone looked really hot so i was very flustered sgjfvdgb (especially namjoon. especially him.)

hobi was sooo cute during wings like he did a liddle flying move it was adorable 

just dance was such a fun stage!!!! hobi is so charismatic and he sounded amazing too (he kinda sounded very nasal at the beginning but it stopped after a few moments) the part with the water cannons was awesome btw 

jungkook was so smiley!!!!! he was adorable during euphoria and he looked so happy :((( not to mention that he also sounded so clear so stable and so good (and during the last chorus he was like “sing it!!!!” and when he got back on the stage he did a cute walk as if he was on a school trip ssgjfbhkdn)

taehyung had no business looking that good during best of me. thats all i can remember from this song.

jimin sounded kinda weird at the beginning of serendipity (my friend thought that there was something wrong with the mic) like his voice was way too high?? but it was fine for the rest of the song so idk that was random ghhdgfhdb the dancing was perfect btw he was both delicate and powerful (and during the whole concert he was the one i noticed the most bc he had sm energy and he executed every move flawlessly) the whole stage was so pretty with the bubbles and all 

trivia love was so good!!!! namjoon is an amazing performer and i loved all the hearts they put on the screens too that was really cute (it was written “je t’aime paris” at the end of the song,, that was a nice little touch) 

they looked like they had sm fun during boy with luv (and at the end jk changed his love sign to a finger heart but he couldnt find the right camera it was cute)

taehyung said some words in french (i could only hear fantastique bc of all the screaming) and then he asked how his french was (we all yelled that it was good ofc) and then i think that jin said “you’re killing it” but im not sure shvfjgbk jungkook started singing champs élysées and his pronunciation was pretty good imo

jungkook put the rose from boy with luv behind his ear :(((

the whole dope/fire/baepsae medley was so fun (and yeah hobi did the splits and hip thrusted in our faces,,,, namjoon too)

jimin sounded the best during idol imo (with jin ofc)

singularity was a whole religious experience. the audience audibly gasped when taehyung opened his eyes in that bed like. he was so sultry and it felt like i was being hypnotised. that performance was perfect on all levels (and i loved the effects they put on the screen where he was split in red and in blue) icb i had the honor of witnessing that,,, he looked so mesmerising on the screen im still not over this (in general he looked divine everytime he was on screen,,, the charisma,,,,, the presence,,,,,, the aura,,,,,,,,and he looked absolutely adorable when he smiled)

the fake love outfits. incredible. never been done before. extraordinary. fantastique, as taehyung would say

yoongi’s voice sounded higher than i thought it would during seesaw (during the whole concert actually sjfhbkgb even when he talked??) he looked very pretty but it was personally the solo stage i liked the least :// like he didn’t make any mistakes and he sounded good when he sang but it had less impact than the others to me???

EPIPHANY!!!!!! jin sounded perfect and he wore glasses and i almost died. epiphany is better live than on the album imo,,, i just wish armys would have stayed QUIET!!!!!! they almost sang the whole song like bitch i payed to listen to jin not u!!!!!!! anyway jin was so stable and the background made him look like an angel (which he is) and his last adlibs were *chef kiss*

vocal line was perfect during the truth untold but i wish armys would have just,,,shut up svdbjg like this is a ballad?? why r u yelling??? why r u singing over the professional singers??? i kinda wanted to actually hear jungkook sing the “but i still want u” part???? anyway jimin and jk were in full vocal kings mode at the end it was amazing i’ll never get sick of this song (and taehyung’s voice is a gift, truly,,, jin too ofc) also the outfits were so good pls give the styling team a raise they litcherally looked like princes

TEAR WAS SO FUCKING GOOD OMG SGHVJHBGKJBKDJ okay so first off the effects they put on the screen with the green things were so fucking cool and rap line themselvesb too!! namjoon was incredible but hoseok??? mistre jung????????? in that dior outfit?????????????? his stage presence is unmatched. to be more detailed, namjoon sounded better live and had sm energy and hobi too (his part at the end... i am deceased) but i kinda felt like yoongi was a bit off? he was good ofc but idk it seemed to me that he had less energy than the other two (he was probably just tired or sick idk this is not me saying that he sucks ofc) 

i didn’t film anything for mic drop so i enjoyed it to the fullest hehe it was awesome (especially hobi’s part)

jin wore a cap during the encore. it was great.

anpanman was cute!!! i have to say that i was barely focusing on the song i was just looking at the bangtans playing around on those bouncy things and they looked really happy

my tits were almost out during so what bc i was jumping too much it’s definitely a song u have to see live 

im pretty sure they made us do a wave twice so that jimin could count to three in french and that tae could say “magnifique” afterwards (the army bombs became a rainbow too it was beautiful)

it was difficult to hear them during the ments sometimes bc everybody was screaming :///

they kept saying that they would come next year

jk said “je n’oublierai jamais tous mes souvenirs avec vous” (i’ll never forget all my memories with u) it was very sweet and then he said smth with “pour toujours” (forever) at the end but i didnt catch the beginning of his sentence

jin, tae and yoongi imitated all the people who were trampling on the bleachers (those fans were so loud and did this shit at the randomest times....)

taehyung said his pronunciation wasn’t good but that he prepared a few sentences in french and then he said “paris si vous aimez pouvez vous nous dire (?) l’année dernière était comme (?) pouvez-vous nous (?) s’il vous plaît? j’aime vraiment paris. je n’oublierai pas (?)” (paris if you like can you say (?) last year was like (?) could you (?) please? I really love paris. I won’t forget (?)... and at the end i think he asked us if we would come next year but im not sure bc people were screaming at some points) and he ended by saying i love you in korean and he teared up :((( it was so sweet of him to prepare all of this!!!

jimin talked for a while (in korean instead of french bc he wanted us to feel his sincerity) abt how during this tour he realised that he was really happy being around his members, the staff and the fans and that he genuinely hoped that we were too and that happiness was right next to us (and that he hoped that bts was in that happiness too) and he also thanked us several times and said i love u,,, he’s a sweetheart :((

hobi said that he prepared stuff in french even tho he wasn’t confident and said “aujourd’hui c’est la meilleure nuit de notre tour (?) on a terminé notre tour sans accident et ça nous a permis de sentir à quel point vous nous aimez (?) vous êtes vraiment notre espoir, merci d’avoir passé un bon temps avec nous, je vous aime, merci beaucoup” (today is the last night of our tour (?) we finished our tour without any accident and it allowed us to feel how much u love us (?) u guys are really our hope, thank u for spending a good time with us, i love u, thank u sm) im sorry i missed some words bc i genuinely can’t understand what he said shgvdjf other than that his pronunciation was good and it’s so sweet that he prepared all that,,, he looked kinda nervous but he smiled a lot and i think he was actually reading from the prompter??

namjoon said “do u know why paris is always the last date? bc u guys are the damn best (개짱)” but the interpret omitted the damn sjfdghk he also said “on se revoit très bientôt i love u” (let’s see each other very soon)  and “paris est la ville des lumières” (paris is the city of lights) after making us take out our phones with the flash lights and then it transitioned right to mikrokosmos,, that was litcherally poetic cinema

other random things i remember: taehyung was in a really good mood (everyone actually, they were playing around a lot), hobi’s smile is so sunshiney, they poured water on each other a lot during encore (i watched jin sneaking up behind namjoon and spraying him sgfvjd they also watered jimin), there were some points where the mic quality wasn’t that good? idk maybe i just imagined it, i absolutely love how they used the screens it really added to the concert’s visuals, jin did a flying kiss during the first ment, jungkook went to the audience at the end but i was focusing on jin so i only realised he did that when jin was like “jungkook-ah” sjvfhjdgbkj, they weren’t extremely synchonized when dancing but they have great energy so it still looked good and overall i really enjoyed myself (me n my friend were ready to fight that one girl who kept screeching stuff at jungkook at random times tho,,,, icb she yelled shit at him during the truth untold like have some respect???)

[nobeliumoxygenoxygen]

Dabi || You could have aimed a bit worse

SUMMARY: You had become a detective all because of him--because he’d gone missing for years and then had come back dead, but unrecognisable. To avenge him, in some way.

And now?

Now you were desperately trying not to shoot your boyfriend on the job.

GENRE: a bit of fluff, angst and crack??

WARNINGS: swearing, very vague implied child abuse

WORDS: 2200 ish

A/N: yayay another one!! This was based/inspired by the post where A is a police/detective and B is a criminal/villain and when one of them shoots each other they’re like “I’ll never hear the end of this” but great job me I can’t find it when i need it!! I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!!!

DISCLAIMER: all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

“You shot me.”

“Look, I said I was sorry!”

“It hurt.”

“I’m sorry! Geez, Dabi, it’s not like I can control where my bullets go!”

“But you could have aimed a bit worse.”

“I did! You just jumped right in the way!”

“You knew I--”

“Okay, we’re done here.” You slammed the first aid kit shut, gritting your teeth in frustration.

Your boyfriend was the most annoying prick in the world. Bleeding from the leg, bruised and battered, and still he managed to piss you off and worry you.

You shoved the kit back in its place in the cupboard, muttering profanities and justifications for yourself.

See, the thing was, you were a detective.

And your boyfriend?

One of the most wanted villains in Japan.

Oh, but then again, whose fault was that exactly?

Who was it that faked their own death? The fake death that prompted you to become a detective in the first place? The fake death that led to you becoming a notable detective in the force, as a result leading to you having amazing amounts of coincidences running into your boyfriend on the job?

That’s right. It was all your prick of a boyfriend’s fault.

Dabi entered the kitchen, lingering in the doorway as he leaned against it, giving you the smirk he knew frustrated you. And aroused you.

Goddamnit.

If only you didn’t love him. Life would be so much easier.

But of course, it had been all because of your love for him from the beginning.

--

You were eighteen when you’d graduated from high school. Alone. Without the presence of your best friend by your side, or in the audience.

Nineteen when you’d gone on your around-the-world trip without your best friend. The best friend you’d planned it all with.

Twenty when you’d cried at your best friend’s funeral, unaware that he was alive and breathing the same moment you felt like you were no longer alive and breathing.

Touya had been missing for a few months already. Hope had been slowly leeching out of you, life moving on even though you didn’t want it to.

In the beginning, you’d tried to get answers. Marching right up to the Todoroki estate and demanding to know where he was. You’d assumed he was staying home, maybe subject to one of his father’s cruel training sessions, maybe too lazy to get up. The school never questioned it; he was a Todoroki, eldest of the number two hero. He might as well have set the school on fire and they would have created a statue in honor of him.

His family hadn’t known anything. His mother, sickly and stressed as she was, couldn’t give you answers. She could barely even talk and that made you feel immensely guilty. It seemed just mentioning Touya was enough to set her into a trance. His sister, Fuyumi, was only thirteen at the time and you didn’t want to hurt her any more than she already was. She had been so worried, the young girl who should have only been worried about trivial childish things, like trends or exams. Not a missing sibling. Not a fractured family.

You had wanted to talk to Endeavor but the man had too much work, it seemed, to even check in with his son’s best friend. You doubted you would have been brave enough either way. You hated him, too. Touya had hinted enough that you knew what the number two hero was like behind the closed curtains. Any encounter between the two of you would not have ended well.

All you’d gathered from your demand for answers was that they had informed the police.

Yet it didn’t seem like anyone was doing anything.

It had taken another week before you declared “screw this” and had stormed back to the Todoroki estate, fury and anxiety and stress and fear for your best friend mixing in your stomach. Where was he? Where was he?

This time, Endeavor had been home.

Like you’d expected, your encounter hadn’t gone nicely.

You’d glared and screamed, but tears had blurred your vision and your voice was hoarse. You could have been just a pest in the number two hero’s eyes. You weren’t sure if the rest of the family had been there to witness it, but you’d gotten a message from Fuyumi a few hours later.

Todo Fuyu: are u okay?

Todo Fuyu: i’m sure touya-nii is fine

Todo Fuyu: pls don’t worry he wouldn’t want u to

You’d been too pissed and shocked from your outburst, adrenaline coursing through your veins to reply immediately.

Finally, you’d gone to the police.

They hadn’t been much help. In fact, they’d been even less help.

You should have realised it though. You were, after all, just a young woman inquiring about the affairs of the Todoroki family. Who were you to ask about them? They didn’t know of your connection with Touya. They’d merely told you they were doing the best they could, and had sent you on your way.

Maybe that was when you’d decided to be a detective. When you decided you wanted all the answers and you wanted them now. Though you couldn’t get them.

So you’d applied for a criminal justice course at uni, studying your ass off, graduating and finding a job.

All the while your best friend was found beyond recognition save through DNA testing, had declared him dead, attended his funeral, comforted his family, and had resolved to make sure no one else had to go through that ordeal.

Not that that was necessarily your pledge to make. You were just a detective, not a hero able to protect citizens on the larger scale.

But you didn’t want anyone else to face the years of waiting you’d done.

Your passion and work had paid off though and you were steadily promoted in the first few years of your career, a genius in how dedicated and determined you were.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that you were appointed as one of the supporting detectives in the investigation of the League of Villains, working closely under a lot of senior detectives as well as one called Detective Tsukuachi.

At first you had been apprehensive. Taking on the job was something big, huge, for you. You’d only aimed to be a small-time detective, helping missing people cases and working with families.

But since the League of Villains were a massive issue, you took it anyway. If they had offered it to you, you must have been able to offer something back, right?

You just hadn’t thought the League of Villains themselves would have had something to offer you.

Whether they knew it or not.

--

“L/N-san--they’re coming your way!” Takeo, a colleague of yours currently sitting inside the surveillance room, yelled through the comms. “Be care--”

“I know!” You hissed back, crouching behind the corner. God god god--oh god why were you here? Why did they have to be so close? You had no backup and no one was able to get to your position anytime soon and the most dangerous members of the League of Villains were heading your way?

You were so going to die.

You heard them before you saw them. Clearly they didn’t bother with stealth when they had the raw power of Dabi’s flames and the fighting skills of Toga and Twice. Your had nothing on them--your weaponry and quirk not strong enough.

You just had to make it count.

You tensed, lowering just a bit, ready to pounce and shoot when--

“L/N wait!” You froze, heart hammering. What now? “They’re splitting up! Dabi heading your way--” Seriously? It couldn’t have been Toga or Twice heading your way--maybe you could have fought one of them off, maybe you could have survived. But no, it just had to be the man with the flames that rivaled Endeavor’s himself. “--coming in--” Crackling. “L/N--”

“Takeo? Takeo--?”

Static.

What the hell?

You fingered your comm, panic rising. When that yielded no results, you glanced at the security camera high up in the corner of the hallway you were in. It wasn’t on. Or, it wasn’t on anymore.

What had they done?

“What do we have here?”

Shit.

You jerked back around, lifting your gun and wasting no time as you pulled the trigger. You’d learnt long ago to never hesitate.

You weren’t able to see if you’d hit him, as there was a burst of hot blue flames and you were flung backwards, hitting the door you’d been guarding--the escape route that was the one you’d all deemed the most unlikely one they’d use. Of course the universe hated you.

You swore, scrambling for the gun blindly. The flames had damaged your vision temporarily; everything was bright, too bright.

You couldn’t die. You couldn’t. You couldn’t you couldn’t you couldn’t--

The flames died down and your vision darkened--oh god he was right in front of you!

“I suggest you move out of the way--”

He stopped. Something must have surprised him.

That was enough for you to grab the gun and slam it into what you hoped was his face.

Crack.

Your vision was still blurry but you stood up, backing away to the other side, gun poised and ready to shoot. But you didn’t know where he was and you weren’t sure if you were meant to kill him. They were needed for questioning; if you could capture him alive, you’d all be able to question them thoroughly. The potential--

He moved so fast you had no time to react.

“Y/N.”

Who?

Who said that? Why…

Why did they sound so familiar?

“Get away from me!” You screamed, flailing as hands twisted your wrists until you were forced to drop the gun. You blinked, head aching but finally, finally, you could see properly.

See into beautiful half-lidded turquoise eyes that you knew.

Oh god.

You were speechless. He…

He looked like Touya.

Or, at least, the eyes were Touya’s. The hair was not your best friend’s red, the face scarred and bleeding--

And still Touya’s.

Still Touya’s. But older.

“Y/N.”

“No.” You breathed, shaking. “No!”

Because this wasn’t real. This couldn’t have been real.

Touya was dead.

You’d seen the body. Seen it and--

And had wondered how that charred person could have been the best friend you’d loved so dearly.

“Stop and look at me,” He demanded--did his voice crack?--, but he didn’t loosen his grip. No doubt you would have freaked out again.

You tried to stop. Tried to breathe and think again. But god--this wasn’t real, was it?

Was it?

“It’s me, Y/N. It’s…” He paused, jaw clenching. “You know who I am.”

You froze, eyes widening.

Then narrowing because, “No I don’t. I don’t know who you are! I don’t know and I don’t--I don’t...I can’t,” You hissed, breath heaving. “You’re...You’re dead.”

And you sobbed then, just once, because you were still on the job and now you could both hear others approaching. From the sounds of it, it was your colleagues--Takeo’s voice rising over the top, yelling to find you and find you fast.

Dabi--Touya?--let you go then and swiftly jumped back, eyes on you the whole time as he opened the door to the outside.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, subtly shaking his head as he leaned outside, ready to leave but no--not yet.

You had to know. Just in case.

You leapt forward, grabbing his coat just before he was out of reach, breathlessly asking the question you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer to;

“Is it really you?”

He didn’t turn around, but his head bobbed--yes. “I’ll come back, don’t worry your cloudy head, alright, Y/N?”

You let go then, a smile involuntarily forming on your lips.

Because ‘Cloudy head’ was your nickname. The nickname formed because you were always up in the clouds, dreaming of travelling around the world. The reason why you’d both planned a trip together, both dreaming of being free.

You couldn’t see his face, but you swore he smiled too.

--

“I’m sorry for shooting you,” You whispered above your boyfriend’s head as he slept.

God, you could be such a sap at night. You had both had the conversation; conversation where you two had agreed that it was alright, even if one of you hurt the other, as much as you both fretted whenever it happened. Deep down, you knew he was alright and just messing with you.

But you were really sorry you had shot him. Words couldn’t explain just how much you’d panicked after seeing Dabi fall off the ledge, knowing your bullet had pierced him--but how deeply? How you had been barely able to function and report properly afterwards, being forced to write the words ‘shot the villain Dabi’ on yours.

You slowly slid back down onto the bed, a weight being lifted off your shoulders at seeing him breathing steadily, knowing he was still alive.

You were just about to shut your eyes when he turned, his frustrating-as-hell smirk on his frustratingly-attractive face.

“You still could have aimed a bit worse, you know?”

You glared at him. And promptly turned around, back facing towards him.

Of course, it wasn’t to hide the smile that spread across your face as you heard his deep chuckle and felt his arms wrap around you or anything.

No, of course it wasn’t.

[oldsamshouseoffic]

Southern Sun

Words: 7161

My very first modern AU.

Merry Kristannamas, @epbaker! Based on your recs you seem to appreciate a variety of AUs and character interpretations, so I tried to push out of my comfort zone. And boy, did I. It was meant to be a simple fluffy oneshot but, well, you can see it kind of got away from me and is now double the length I planned with oodles of family angst. I split it into four parts and the fluff doesn’t really start until Part III: Bribery. But they get there, they do get there.

I hope you enjoy my hot mess. It even follows the suggested theme...

To anyone with actual knowledge of Antarctic operations, my apologies in advance for the many, many inaccuracies.

Part I: Lousy Antarctica

Lousy Antarctica.

Anna Arendal threw her covers off and dragged herself to her feet, strangling a howl of frustration as she looked at the clock, her only reliable measure of time on this stupid continent. She opened the shutters, ignoring the recommended closure hours sensibly displayed across them in Norwegian, and let the bright daylight into her room. Her brain kind of knew the light was there anyway, even if she couldn't see it. It felt like daytime, twenty-four seven. And she had got used to it. Mostly. Normally. You couldn't be an intrepid polar researcher if you couldn't manage the weird hours- everyone knew that. But...

Lousy Kristoff.

Lousy storm.

Lousy dated, unreliable equipment, that falls apart if a teensy little gale force wind hits it.

Lousy... actually, this wasn't Elsa's fault at all, not this time.

Lousy Anna. Lousy Anna's lousy big mouth.

Lousy comms blackout, at the worst possible time.

She fell back on top of the mangled bed covers, the ambient chill than pervaded every inch of Troll Station even in summer creeping under her onesie and the pyjamas underneath that, at throat and wrist and ankle, setting her skin tingling. The chill cut through the fog of her insomniac funk, just a little.

It was all her fault. And Kristoff's. And the storm, obviously. And the midnight sun. But mainly hers.

She shouldn't have yelled at him. Kristoff was a big, oblivious... Kristoff, and she was expecting him to be a mind-reader. Of course he didn't get why she'd been pulling out her hair about a few days without Internet. She'd never explained about her family, after all. Not that he'd been very polite about it.

But then neither had Anna. Maybe it was guilt, the reason she was replaying their argument in her head over and over. Or maybe... maybe it was a sign of how few people she actually had, out here, on the underside of the world. How few friends to lose.

Lousy language barrier...

Antarctica is a post-state scientific utopia. In theory.

On December 1st, 1959, the twelve nations with active science bases on the frozen continent signed the Antarctic treaty, dedicating one of the great land masses of Earth to peace and scientific discovery. As of 2006, forty countries are signed up to the treaty and operate research bases and stations. More than forty are permanent, 12 months-per-year settlements, antennae and living pods linked together like moon bases, dozens more are small, summer outposts.

The biggest, McMurdo Station, is American. It is more like a town than an outpost, its population never dropping below two hundred even in the depths of the polar winter, and swelling to over a thousand in the summer research season. That was where Anna had spent her first season in the continent. So many fellow research biologists. So many penguins! She could literally walk to one of the Adélie colonies, except that she had promised never to do that again. Those darn pencil pushers...

This year was different. Particular research had to be collected from other parts of the continent, very specific, penguin-ey data which couldn't be gleaned from what other nations had shared. I can do that one, Anna had said, pointing to where Troll Station had been circled on the map. My parents spoke Norwegian. I'll fit right in...

“It'll be great!” Anna had insisted to Elsa. “No more of the big-base politics and bureaucracy and meetings... Ugh, so many meetings! All the nonsense there was around that congressional visit. None of which was my fault, by the way. Just real researchers, braving the frozen wilds for science!”

Elsa had looked uncertain; she hadn't said anything about how Anna was travelling to the other end of the planet again, and that it was different this time, they were different. But they'd promised to stay in contact- the base had a dish for Internet- and Anna had sworn she wouldn't let them drift apart a second time.

The journey back to the frozen continent had gone smoothly, considering how complicated it all was. Connecting flights down the length of the Americas, an overnight stay at an airfield in Argentina, and then a chartered plane had brought her back to McMurdo. She'd had enough time to say 'See ya later' to a couple of old friends before the equipment she'd need was collected and loaded onto yet another plane, which had carried her to the South Pole.

A pilot had greeted her on arrival, a sharp-featured older woman who had informed her in laboured English that she was to to fly her the rest of the way, and had seemed surprised but delighted when Anna answered her in Norwegian, even complementing her accent. She hadn't known she had an accent. Was that... actually a complement, though?

With an hour or two free once she'd made sure her luggage was safely transferred to the smaller cargo plane, and although she had already felt tired from the long hours in the air, Anna had still got out and walked around the Amundsen–Scott South Pole Station. Partly to stretch her legs, and partly because she was at the South Pole.

The South Pole... Wasn't that just crazy? Mother Earth's frosty little butt.

It hadn't even been all that cold, being the start of the Antarctic summer. Okay, pretty cold, maybe minus twenty, but she'd come straight from the first frosts of a New York winter and was wrapped up in the finest thermal gear government funding could buy, so she'd felt the sting on the exposed parts of her cheeks and that was about all.

There was... literally a pole there.

Right in front of the base. It was a goofy little thing- red and white striped with a shiny ball on top, sticking up absurdly from the packed white permafrost. To think so many men died to reach the site of some novelty lawn ornament...

She had taken a selfie with it, to send to Elsa as soon as she had Internet.

By the time the final leg had brought her to the little airfield alongside Troll Station, she had been awake for more than twenty hours, which had made it, according to the pilot, only mid morning by Central European Time. A massive man whose ginger muttonchops were sprinkled with white had been standing, waiting for her, by a red minibus fitted with massive winter tyres. Every vehicle in Antarctica looked like a scaled-up kids' toy.  As it turned out that was the station director, Dr Kjøpmann, who insisted on Anna calling him Oaken with the same polite informality which proved to be the norm for... most of the station staff.

On the way from the airfield Oaken had launched into what could well have been the introductory spiel he gave every newcomer. Troll Station was established first by the Norwegians as a summer outpost, and only expanded into a permanent, year-round station in 2003. This was good news in a lot of ways- there were all the modern conveniences. A TV room. Even basic Wi-Fi- although he admitted it wasn't very reliable. A sauna- Anna had tried not to giggle at that. But of course there was a sauna...

And the base now had a wind turbine to generate part of its power. He sounded particularly proud of that. Then Anna remembered being told that a good portion of the Norwegian scientists at the base were environmental researchers. Sustainability was probably close to their hearts.

The base was not much to look at in itself- Antarctic stations never are. A handful of blocky prefabricated buildings, mostly bright red to stand out at a distance to anyone lost nearby, connected by tracks and walkways. What really stood out was that it was all built not on snow, but on bare rock. A huge rock formation rose out of the ice sheet, running up towards a collection of oddly shaped mountains in the near distance, and the Norwegians had planted their flag right on top of it. Oaken explained all this, adding that the mountains were the 'trolls' after which the station had been named.

By the time they had made it to the station, Anna had been half-awake, and they had installed her equipment in one of the lab buildings and installed Anna herself in an empty dormitory room as quickly as possible so she could sleep off some of her extreme jet lag, having gone from EST to New Zealand time then back to European time over the course of one trip.

Left alone to unpack and rest, she'd zipped open her case, changed into her pyjamas, pulled her favourite penguin onesie on over the top because she'd still felt the chill, then remembered just in time to text Elsa.

......

Did you arrive yet? x

Anna, please text me when you're safely there. You know I get jittery when you travel x

Arrived safely! ;)

Thank God. How is your Norwegian holding up?

Xxx

Okey dokey so far.

I'm so out of practice.

Elsa I need my sleep. So do you. It's 4am in NY.

Wait!

???

Forgot this. Lo, ye literal South Pole XD

This... is ridiculous x

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Don't let the bed bugs bite x

Have an adventure, Anna. Skype me. Love you x

Luv u xxx

......

Sisterly duty discharged, Anna had flipped the light switch and collapsed straight onto the bed, instantly asleep...

She'd been woken up again after only a couple of hours, but that was life, wasn't it?

Broken sleep was kind of part of working through the midnight sun, Anna considered, still staring at the ceiling of her room. Maybe they were all feeling a little edgy, shorter tempered...

After another twenty minutes replaying her good and bad choices with increasing frustration, Anna thought: To heck with it. Brooding was Elsa's thing- she was a problem solver.

Well, how to solve her problems, then?

Problem 1: Elsa. Couldn't do anything about her until the storm damage to the comms dish was fixed.

Problem 2: Kristoff.

Kristoff. Anna had the beginnings of a plan to repair that particular burned bridge. Hopping up, she pulled her boots, gloves and coat on over her night clothes. If she remembered the rota right, Olaf was on nights at the moment...

Olaf Snømann was in his element. Three quarters of the staff were asleep and the canteen block was empty, so he could use the kitchen without interruption. Strictly speaking, Troll Station having no official chef, meals were meant to be cooked by the researchers based on a rota, but Olaf often volunteered his down time to bake, mix, prepare. Partly because putting together a lovely stew relaxed him when he wasn't grappling with satellite data, and partly because if he didn't cook, someone else had to- and most of his colleagues struggled to empty a tin of herring onto a slice of bread. It certainly made him popular. Everyone wanted to be friends with the cook.

Of course, with the satellite down he had all the time in the world anyway.

The door swung open which a swish of frozen air which tickled Olaf's scalp through his thin, silver hair, and a lone figure waddled in, wrapped in a thick high vis coat. It wasn't time for the night shift to eat, but there was no mistaking his visitor anyway. Olaf stopped stirring the stew pot and hurried to shut the door as fast as his stumpy legs would allow as American Anna undid her jacket, yawning. Underneath she was dressed in the same bizarre one-piece hooded costume that she'd worn the first time they'd met, her wind-burnt face framed by ginger pigtails sticking out under a goofy plush penguin face...

She had only been at the base a couple of hours at that point, months ago, but according to her she had forgotten to turn off her phone alarm. Now, an early alarm in Latin America is past midday in Europe and, finding herself awake at lunch, she'd decided to brazen out her jet lag and try the canteen.

Everyone had introduced themselves, of course. And it had turned out the base rumour mill was, for once, true and she actually spoke Norwegian, although her accent was so strong Olaf couldn't believe she had ever left the United States before. Although Olaf's own spoken English was atrocious, so it was a relief to know they wouldn't have to rely on it.

In any case, she had sat down, bleary-eyed, clad in her novelty onesie, said thank you very politely for the smørbrød Olaf had placed before her, before devouring a good half of it with her hands- like a toddler. Eventually she'd gone pink in the cheeks, registering that people were staring, and picked up her knife and fork to finish. Someone had jokingly called her 'Pingu' and she'd looked at them blankly. Olaf had shooed them away and sat down to eat with her, feeling a little protective of this young, half-penguin researcher, with her feral American table manners, half asleep and wholly out of her element.

And she was fun, it turned out. A breath of fresh, crazy air. He'd not had a snowball fight in years before Anna had arrived...

Anna coughed, bringing Olaf's mind back to the present before he could .

“Hi Olaf. I'm sorry about the dish.”

He looked back at the pot. “What? Oh, the satellite dish.” He shrugged, smiling serenely. “These things happen. He glanced out one of the little porthole-like windows, sighed, and returned to stirring the pot. “This land is beautiful, powerful, dangerous... that is part of the wonder of it. A little damage, a little delay- it's nothing we can't fix.”

Anna inhaled sharply, wringing her hands. “Yeah... fixing things. About that. Could I ask you a really, really big favour?”

Part II: Penguin Girl

Kristoff shovelled snow.

The base had a snow plough, obviously, but the storm had done more than spread a few feet of powder over the roads. In the driving wind, tonnes had built up in dense drifts against the buildings, burying cables and equipment that had to be dug out by hand. And so, since Lars had called dibs on the plough and he wouldn't be driving Anna anywhere until comms were restored, Kristoff had picked up a shovel and offered a hand.

That was if Anna ever actually wanted to share a cab with him again. The thought that she might insist Oaken assign her one of the other techs bothered him in a way part of him found surprising. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd stopped being annoyed by the ginger menace and started...

He carried on shovelling. He'd been working at it steadily for a while now; Sápmi winters had trained him well and he kept up a clean, rhythmic technique, the exertion warming him against the burning cold of the Antarctic air, efficiently clearing the loose-packed snow into piles that could be swept off by vehicle. Initially the exercise had kept his head clear, stopped him from dwelling on the fight, but now specific impressions kept forcing their way back into his head.

Anna had been so unreasonably angry, Kristoff had thought, about losing Skype when the blackout left the base cut off from other stations if there were an actual emergency, and when the whole TrollSat team's actual jobs rested on the comms mast being fixed, and when actual international treaties existed around Norway sharing that satellite data. And he'd told her so, and he'd not really listened to her...

But now, now he remembered her hands, fidgeting, tying her braids in knots as she'd complained; the tension in her wide blue-green eyes, almost tearful, and that wasn't just Anna being her usual impatient, volatile self. Something had been very wrong, and Kristoff hadn't listened.

Now he was worried, and wondering if it was too late to fix... whatever they had. It wasn't like he could fix comms.

Kristoff remembered when he had first set eyes on her...

He'd been hearing the others gossip about Anna for a couple of days, the strange American penguin girl, but they'd kept missing each other, which suited him fine. 'Kind of hot', apparently, 'in a Pippi Långstrump sort of way'- he hadn't wanted to dwell on that particular disturbing mental image. All Kristoff had known was that some American government agency had cut a deal with some Norwegian government agency, which meant he now had to spend four days a week ferrying some stranger far overland to look at birds.

He had been checking over the snowcat when Anna and Oaken had come strolling up together. The Red Sven was a tracked polar specialist about the size of a tow truck, and the only vehicle they had with the necessary speed and range for Ms Arendal's outings. The director had simply handed Kristoff his revised work schedule and marched back to his office with a wave, leaving his more taciturn countryman to try and make conversation with the newcomer.

It had turned out that making conversation with Anna Arendal was mostly nodding and saying 'Huh'. Her Norwegian was better than he'd heard, although her accent was strong, going high and low in all the wrong places with heavy American 'R's. Still, words, mostly the correct ones, poured bubbling up out of this girl- sweet and effervescent and unrelentingly upbeat, like a human can of Sprite. Questions, follow-up questions, answers to questions he hadn't asked... maybe it was a nervous trait?. She had just arrived after all.

Their first trip had dispelled the theory that Anna only talked too much when she was nervous, as she'd quickly settled into a calm, collected routine of always thinking in her mouth.

Anna was in Troll Station because it was 'close' to penguin colonies she needed to observe and collect data from. However, Antarctica was a continent, and 'close' meant travelling hundreds of miles by snowcat as opposed to thousands by plane. Troll Station being the 'closest' to the colonies she needed to study meant that it was 'only' a three hour drive each way in fine weather, plus an hour or two of driving between the penguin nesting spots themselves. Plus waiting around for Anna to make observations and collect samples.

And through it all, Anna would talk...

Are we there yet?

No.

You don't say much, huh?

No.

…

…

…

If the rock rises through the ice around the station, is the ice thinner? Like, do we have to worry less about falling in cracks?

Actually, you'd think so, but no.  The ice gets thick pretty quick as you move away from the Jutulsessen nunatak.

…

…

…

I've never observed an Emperor colony before. Most of the data I collected last year is from Macaronis, but we need to track the pollution effects on the other Antarctic species and form hypotheses about dietary factors, so... are you listening?

Um, sure.

…

…

…

Are you ever around in winter?

No, it's only really the satellite station team that are needed during the long night.

Twenty-four hours of night. That must suck.

Yes.

…

…

…

Are the nights very long where you come from?

Oh yes.

So, far in the North?

Sápmi.

Sorry?

Sápmi. You know, ugh, 'Lapland'?

Like Santa Claus?

...No, not like Santa Claus.

…

…

…

What's a Pingu?

…

…

…

It had been exhausting at first, chauffeuring their foreign guest from breeding site to breeding site. That first week, the idea of being grounded at Troll Station for a few days would have sounded like a holiday. So why, whatever he did, however much he tinkered with the vehicles in the garage, or cleared snow until his back and shoulders burned and his clothes and beard were dusted white... Why did the day feel so empty now?

He missed the easy smile, the fizzy energy that escaped in bursts of joy, or curiosity, or irritation. He somehow missed the constant barrage of words.

He missed Anna. At some point in all those long, long drives over the ice, she'd grown on him.

Like a terrorist and her hostage...

Part III: Bribery

The sun didn't set during December in Antarctica. But this far from the Pole it did skim lower in the sky for a few hours, swelling into a warmer golden light that smeared itself along the horizon like the glow of a distant fire. Kristoff liked to sit out and watch it sometimes, on his breaks or when there was no work for him. That was how Anna found him, sat on a box by the wall of the garage block and sipping steaming black coffee from a Thermos flask. Alone. Good.

He was looking away from her, scarf loose around his thick blond beard, woolly hat pulled down over his ears, rolling his broad shoulders gently as if working out the aches and pains of the day. Anna saw the shovel propped up against the wall next to him. Clearly Kristoff had been making himself a lot more useful than she had been, sulking in bed, and for a moment she hesitated to bother him.

No, shyness wasn't going to solve anything. If Kristoff didn't want to talk to Anna he could tell her. And the package in her hands wasn't getting any warmer.

“Anna?” She jumped.

“Oh, Kristoff...” Anna swallowed nervously. She'd been spotted, no point in trying to back out now. She stepped up to her colleague, her rehearsed apology completely evaporating from her mind. “So, I...” “I should apologise.”

“What? No! I should apologise.” Anna blinked in surprise. “I yelled at you.”

“I didn't listen to you.”

“No one listens to me!” Anna paused. “I talk too much I know it's a thing.” She held the bag in her hands out to him. “Peace offering. I didn't have time to wrap it.”

“For me?” Kristoff stared at the bag for a couple of heartbeats, then took it and sat back down on the box, shuffling over so Anna could join him. He lifted the box out of the bag, a large plastic tub she and Olaf had found in the kitchen, and...

As Kristoff cracked open the lid of the tub, the smell of sweet fried dough was detectable even in the icy midsummer air. He smiled. “Doughnuts. You got Olaf to make them again.”

“Yep.”

“Everyone has been badgering him to make more since... well, the last time. He said we had to wait for a special occasion.”

“I twisted his arm.”

“They're so good.”

“Yep.” Anna was giggling now. “And they're all yours. Tell no one, or the meteorological team will descend on you like vultures.”

Kristoff laughed, and Anna was finally starting to relax, relieved. “It's a strange world.”

Kristoff reached for a rucksack sitting on the snowy rock, and fiddled with fastenings. Thermal gloves made little things awkward. Eventually, mumbling an apology, he drew out a small package tied up in a cotton rag. “I didn't have time to wrap, either.”

Anna let him place the little parcel in her hands. “And it's not even Christmas yet.” As she pulled the cloth away she saw the gleam of coloured foil. Was it really...

“Chocolate!” Anna jumped up and down, clutching The Precious to her chest, then sat down self-consciously. “Wow, thanks. My stash lasted, like, a week. Not even that.”

She turned back to Kristoff. “I can't believe we both decided to bribe each other with sugar.”

“It's the drug of choice around here.”

“Like cigarettes in prison.”

“We should talk.”

“Yeah...”

“I promise to listen this time.”

It was far too cold to stay outside, so Kristoff led her into the garage. Soon they were sat together in the cab of Kristoff's snowcat, as they had on so many achingly cold, bright 'mornings' since Anna had arrived here.

Anna's chocolate was frozen solid- goodness knows where Kristoff had been hiding it, maybe buried somewhere safe from hungry researchers- so they shared Kristoff's doughnuts as Anna explained a little of her family situation.

How Elsa had increasingly isolated herself from everyone including, most hurtfully, her sister. How they hadn't realised how ill she was, not for years- Pappa hadn't really encouraged them to talk about it.

Eventually, in their twenties, after they had both made some questionable choices- Kristoff didn't need to hear about Anna’s jerkass of an ex just yet- things had reached a breaking point.

After a particularly severe crisis had landed Elsa in the ER, she was finally receiving the medical attention she should have been getting from the beginning. Encouraged by her therapists, she had reached out to Anna.

They were making progress, slowly learning to be sisters again. But things were still fragile between them. Anna could be thoughtless and short-tempered, Elsa was painfully sensitive and sometimes kind of paranoid... it was a volatile combination.

In their last Skype call before the storm had wrecked the mast Elsa had been smiling, proud of herself. She had gone to a Christmas party. Elsa. Elsa Arendal had gone to a party. And enjoyed herself. With people. And dancing.

Anna had asked her where the party had been. Elsa had prevaricated, but Anna had pressed the issue, knowing her sister didn't drink and the blush on her cheeks was not alcohol.

“It... was an office party.”

“Oh really... Whose?”

“Oh, whose office? A, um, friend.”

“A friend took you on a date, huh?”

“Well it doesn't have to be a date, necessarily.”

“Uh-huh...”

“Okay, it was. Maybe.”

“Ooh... Maybe I should check this guy out, ask him his intentions towards my sister. Or do I know him already? You don't meet that many people, no offence.”

“No, no.”

“You hesitated.”

“No, honestly, she's new in town... oh God.”

Kristoff looked wary. “And was that...”

Anna nearly spat out her doughnut. “Oh for God's sake Kristoff, I'm not a homophobe! I'm a scientist! It would be like... hating someone for their shoe size!”

Kristoff's nose scrunched up when he was thinking. It was kind of adorable- Wait, what?

“So, if you're not-”

“There's no if! Geez, one nightmare clown gets elected and everyone thinks the worst of us.”

“So what did you say?”

Anna face-palmed, groaning. “Nothing.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Nothing? You?”

“I panicked! Said some nonsense about having my lab tests to get back to...”

Anna found herself fidgeting with her hair again. “We're sisters, and I love her, but sometimes it seems like I hardly know anything about her. Elsa pulled away from me so hard all through our teens- I didn't know then about her mental health, I just thought there was something wrong with me, maybe. And it just got worse after Mamma and Pappa passed. We've only really reconnected in the last year after she started getting therapy and meds, and so much is still uncharted territory between us.

There should have been sleepovers and girls' nights in and blanket forts where we talked about our crushes and shared our darkest secrets. But there was none of that. Just a locked bedroom door I passed on my way to the stairs. And being reminded of that made me feel like the lousiest sister in the world all over again.”

She pulled her legs up to her body, hugging her knees. “And you know, I am.”

Anna put her hand up to stay Kristoff's well-meaning protests.

“No, really. I made it about me. I got all weird and made excuses so I'd have time to feel comfortable. I was so scared of saying the wrong thing I said nothing! The one time I didn't talk when I actually should have...

I should have told her that it was okay. I shouldn't have signed off before I was sure she believed that. Elsa never finds it easy to tell me anything. Her issues make her so scared all the time, make her expect the worst. But she's been trying so hard. She's been getting better...”

Anna buried her face in her hands. “But that was when we lost Internet! And phones! Everything! Like, ten minutes later, back at the lab I had started to worry and wanted to send her a quick message, something supportive, even just a stupid little “Luv u Elsa xxx”...

...But no signal. Blackout! So now my only sister's back stateside thinking I freaked out and ghosted her, probably deciding to cut me out of her life for good this time. Or worse, having another breakdown... because of me...”

Kristoff wasn't the most demonstrative guy Anna had ever met, so she was surprised when he shifted the remaining doughnuts to one side and wrapped her in a tight hug.

It was nice, though. It was really nice, even with the gearshift pressing into her hip. She felt adrift in nightmarish uncertainty, no clue what Elsa was doing, no way to fix it, and the feeling of his arms encircling her, thick and strong as tree trunks, was kind of grounding. He was so calm and still most of the time, it was easy to forget how big he was. Two Annas big. Like a bear. A brawny Norwegian bear man.  She couldn't really feel the warmth of him through the layers of insulating clothing they both wore, but... why was she thinking about that?

“Anna, listen to me. The dish will be fixed before you know it. You will call your sister, or Skype or whatever you want. You will tell her exactly what you told me, and she will understand and she will love you. We will carry on collecting data, data and poop alike, I will make you watch Pingu in the TV room so you understand the joke, and everything- that means everything- will be alright. Okay?”

Anna nodded. Something about the sheer, solid presence of Kristoff made it easier to believe his words, to expect good things, as she mumbled his words back to him. “Everything will be alright.”

“That's right.”

They met again the next evening, in the same spot- where Kristoff waited in the freezing wind with a sheepish grin and enough coffee for them both. Anna's chocolate had had time to thaw out and was no longer like trying to bite into a slab of glass, so they took their eating caffeine and drinking caffeine into the garage workshop. Kristoff must have known it would be empty.

“I should explain my behaviour,” Kristoff announced out of nowhere.

Anna put her plastic mug down on the crate that Kristoff had dragged over between their stools to make them a table, with that effortless strength of his. “No offense, but you need to narrow that down.”

“I can often be too...” Kristoff trailed off, his brow furrowing under his woolly hat.

“Laconic?”

He grunted. “Actually, yes. My family are a bit overpowering. It would make sense if you could meet them.”

Anna leaned in, curious. “Your family?”

She'd never thought about him as a family person. But then she'd never asked. Had she really been so self-centred?

“Well, adoptive family. My brother, that's my... hold on.”

Kristoff reached into his coat to retrieve one of the indestructible phones the Norwegian teams were issued with and flicked through a couple of screens, before turning it over to her. It showed a photo of two young men dressed in colourful woollen clothes, smiling and hugging each other while one held up the camera. It took a moment to realise which one was Kristoff- he looked different without the thick beard he'd been wearing since she had arrived.

“My only blood relation. Sven and I lost our folks when we were very little. Then we were adopted by new parents. There were ten of us, altogether, growing up right at the furthest frozen edge of the north of Europe.”

“Ten?” Anna gawked. One sibling had been complicated growing up- seven seemed like, well a zoo.

Kristoff chuckled at the face she was making. “Pappa said it kept the house warm. It was crowded. I never had much time to myself as a boy, except when I was out on the ice. At home, there was always someone talking to me, dragging me off to join in with something. Sometimes there would be songs, all through our little house, just because someone felt like singing and then Mamma joined in, then everyone else joined in...”

“They sound wonderful,” Anna blurted out, before she could stop herself. Compared to the years of her parents always being busy with the company, and Elsa ghosting her- not that they'd known why at the time...

Kristoff snorted. “They are. But also loud, and excitable, and overbearing, and kinda never shut up. I miss them, but at the same time I need to get away for some of the year.”

At that, Anna felt something implode slightly inside of her, a feeling she couldn't exactly account for, but she didn't want to ruin their second actual proper conversation, so she tried to grin and make a joke of it.

“So, you come all the way to the bottom of the world for some peace and quiet, and instead you're driving me two hundred clicks to collect penguin poop, while I talk, and talk, and talk your ear off the whole way? Tough break. Wow.”

Kristoff looked up at her and shook his head. “The whole drive back, too. But that's not quite what I meant. I should relate to people. It is part of life, I want to. But I guess my family has left me too... passive. You come to me, and you sit and talk and I let you, like you're one of my kid sisters. But you are not. I am not home, letting the noise wash over me, where my family know what I feel even if I do not show it. I am here, and you are my... friend, and I should talk to you, let you know that your company is valued.”

Anna wasn't expecting the sudden turn, and the sad look in Kristoff's eyes and the hesitant way he said 'friend', like it was a question, had her head spinning in odd ways. “That's well, I mean, not that- Do you? Value it? My company? I value yours. I think I took that for granted before our fight, which is a thing I do and- sorry.”

Kristoff nodded, radiating sincerity. “I do, Anna.” He held out his gloved hand across the crate, mashing the empty chocolate foil, and Anna took it and held it. “We're all the way out here in fourteen million square kilometres of ice and frozen rock, and only a few thousand complete madmen-”

“And madwomen!”

Kristoff laughed. “-To share it with. It's good we have each other, don't you think?”

Anna squeezed his hand. “Yeah.”

“I have good news.”

“Oh! Hi...” Anna looked up from her breakfast to see Kristoff awkwardly hovering. Checking the hood of her onesie to make sure it hid her bed hair, she wondered for a second why he was looking so uncomfortable if he had good news... before she realised he was just waiting for an invitation. “Sit, sit, come on Kristoff! Tell me.”

Kristoff joined her at the table, grasping a mug of that now familiar thick black coffee. She wondered if he drank it instead of sleeping- he was certainly up at all hours.

“The repairs to the satellite system are almost complete.”

Anna's face lit up. “That's amazing! How long...”

“They'll be able to reintegrate with the satellite and start relaying data back to Europe tomorrow morning.”

“And Internet? Phones?”

Kristoff scratched his beard. “That will take another day or two. Oaken wants to make sure we have everything straightened out before we bring back non-emergency comms, so no Wi-Fi.”

Anna's heart sank.

“But...” Kristoff smiled. “Oaken's office has a direct broadband connection, which will be back straight away, and I told him you had a family emergency and, well, he's really a good boss.”

“Wait, what did you tell him?” Anna's eyes widened.

“Oh, no details, only that you needed to contact your sister urgently. He may or may not think that she's dying.” Kristoff shrugged. “The advantage of not asking for anything for five years is, when you do, people take it very seriously. Just talk to Oaken and arrange when it would be best to use his office tomorrow-”

Kristoff wasn't that surprised when Anna leaped up and threw her arms around his neck in thanks. She was a pretty excitable person. The kiss she pressed into his cheek before she rushed out of the canteen, on the other hand...

He sat still where he was for a moment, just processing. The other driver, Lars, took a seat beside him.

“So, you and Happy Feet, right?”

“Lars, no!” Kristoff hesitated, willing himself not to let his blush rise above the beard line. “I don't know. Maybe.”

Lars snorted with laughter. “Kristoff, you hopeless young idiot. It'll be Christmas eve on Monday. Invite her to the party. A little festive cheer, a little lutefisk, a lot of Oaken's akevitt...”

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, undeterred by Kristoff's stony silence. “She is the first new person I have seen you happily interact with since... I don't even know. You're at the damn South Pole, do you think you're holding out for someone better?”

“No! Anna's great, really great, she...” Kristoff caught himself. “Oh, I see you.”

“Because if there were someone better, sorry, but she wouldn't date you. You're reaching as it is.”

Kristoff got up, zipping his coat. “I'm leaving now.”

As he walked to the door Lars called after him. “Go, follow the beautiful penguin girl... Confess your true feelings...”

“See you around, Lars.”

Part IV: Julaften

“But he gave you chocolates?”

“Chocolate, Elsa. Chocolate. As in a candy bar. We had an argument...”

“And he didn't have flowers?”

“Hilarious. Kristoff's just a guy I know.”

“Who went out of his way to help get us back in contact. And gave you chocolate, and you spend all day with him. I'm just looking at the facts- he's basically your snow husband.”

“Stooop... A couple of dates and suddenly you're the love expert.”

“'Love' expert? Ha! A confession.”

“I could sign off right now...”

“Wait, Anna. Listen, listen, I'm being serious. You should see the way your eyes soften when you just say his name. Anna, this is me, of all people, telling you to take a chance... Why not just catch him under the mistletoe, see what happens?”

“Elsa, they don't do that in Norway. I think. We don't have mistletoe, anyway. Even if...”

Anna stared at the akevitt in the bottom of her glass, reflecting on her most recent Skype with Elsa. After the initial awkwardness of clearing up misunderstandings- it had turned out Elsa had sent about twenty panic texts and Anna had solemnly sworn to delete all of them unopened once they arrived- their conversation had turned with surprising ease to the warmer, more familial awkwardness of being interrogated about her love life. Not that she actually had a-

The door to the TV room opened, and Kristoff joined her in the hall, rosy cheeked with Christmas spirit and also probably from the rich, dark Christmas ale half-filling his cup. It was not to her taste, but by the rate it was disappearing it clearly suited some of their colleagues. “Not enjoying the film?”

"Three Wishes for Cinderella? They show it every year." Kristoff shrugged.

“Give me It's a Wonderful Life any day.” Anna sipped her drink. “Shall we go out and say hello to the doggie?”

Kristoff tried to frown, but it wasn't working. “It's a goat. A Yule Goat. They're meant to be made out of straw, but Gerda and Lars only had bits of crate to hammer together, which is why it's so...”

Anna grinned. “So... what?”

“So like a robot dog.” Kristoff sighed in surrender. “Sure, let's take a walk.”

A few minutes later, wrapped up warmly, they stood at the centre of the base trying hard to admire what Kristoff's colleagues had constructed. They would not be winning any art prizes.

“So, how's it a goat?”

Kristoff pointed up at some of the messier parts of the beast. “The bent-over parts are meant to be horns.”

“Really? Not ears?”

“Be nice. It would probably look more impressive at night.”

Anna rolled her eyes, giggling. “Sure, at night. Let's just wait a few months.”

Kristoff crossed his arms and pretended to sulk. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh at our ancient traditions. What do you do for Christmas?”

Anna grinned, stepping closer to him. “Give each other gifts...”

“Yeah, we already did that, and I'm out of chocolate.”

She looked up at his face, all bemused patience, eyes dancing. “Eat turkey...”

“Good luck with that. I'm not driving you to the nearest supermarket.”

“Where is that?”

“Cape Town. I hope you can swim.”

“Okay, okay,” Anna laughed, her gloved fingers trailing down the front of Kristoff's jacket. His brown eyes were as dark and heady as the ale he drank. “Well, there is mistletoe. You know how that works?”

“We have Hollywood. But if an American really wants to kiss someone why not just-”

“Yeah, why not?”

The kiss was brief- almost a collision- as Anna grabbed Kristoff's head in both hands and pulled him down, springing up on her toes to meet him halfway. Then she let go and staggered back a few feet.

Yep, she’d actually done that.

Kristoff was bright pink. “Anna...”

“You can't blame me!” Anna yelped. “I'm drunk and I have terrible impulse control!”

Kristoff burst out laughing, which Anna decided could either be good or really, really bad.

“Kristoff?”

That was when he kissed her back. Slow and loving and tender, and the alcohol in her veins could not compete with how that touch warmed her.

What was that bleeping?

Pulling away slightly, Kristoff pulled his phone out of his back pocket. His smile broadened.

“Midnight.”

Anna looked at the bright sunlight gleaming off the ear-horns of the Yule plank-monster. The sun was low over the mountains in the distance, gleaming off the ice flats... “Amazing.”

“Merry Christmas, Anna.”

[verdigrisprowl]

Mar 17 Bevel’s Movie Stream - end of season 1 of Star Trek Discovery

Prowl now has exactly zero tolerance for the presence of Tyler on screen, at all, in any context.

Even though their plan at the end worked, he objects to it because it carried too great a risk of making everything worse.

Today Bevel 7:20 pm *enjoy refreshments and all the lounging space you like, fun straws included* Tarantulas 7:20 pm (( is the audio skippy for anyone else? Bevel 7:21 pm ((Ah, good, I was wondering if it was my audio issues ((If it's still skippy on this song, I'll refresh some ((Ok, lemme refresh and see if that helps Tarantulas 7:22 pm (( kk! Bevel 7:23 pm ((my laptop has an audio glitch so I never know if audio issues are on my end or not Bevel 7:37 pm ((gonna start at 45 after if that's good for everyone? ItsyBitsySpyers 7:37 pm ((i assume this is fuzzytime cause fancy dance also?)) Prowl 7:38 pm ((works for me)) Tarantulas 7:38 pm (( dangit it's still skippy for me ItsyBitsySpyers 7:38 pm ((it's slightly twitchy audio here but still okay i think)) Ratchet 7:39 pm [[ what the heck the entire time i've been here it hasn't shown any messages ]] ItsyBitsySpyers 7:39 pm *Soundwave slides in like you do. Nobody seems to be here aside from Bevel, so he'll dance a few steps into the room.* *She already knows he does.* Ratchet 7:39 pm [[ did mine at least go through ]] ItsyBitsySpyers 7:39 pm ((i see them now)) Ratchet 7:39 pm [[ about ratchet bringing snacks? ]] Bevel 7:39 pm ((is it being skippy for anyone else but Hex? I'm honestly getting my normal audio glitch far as I can tell ItsyBitsySpyers 7:40 pm ((i didn't see the snax)) Ratchet 7:40 pm [[ fuq u rabbit k i'll rewrite as soon as i've scooped dinner into a bowl ]] Bevel 7:40 pm ((Oh, Fabu your messages went to private chat with me instead of the group chat Ratchet 7:41 pm [[ raBBIT whY ]] Bevel 7:41 pm ((because it hates happiness Ratchet 7:42 pm *pops in and heads for the snack table, if indeed there is one* Bevel 7:42 pm ((ok, last song and then I'll start Ratchet 7:42 pm *for the first time in quite a while Ratchet has BROUGHT snacks. not a lot, but one for each bot he has come to expect will be here. yes, soundwave and co. included. prowl's is naturally in liquid form.* Bevel 7:44 pm *claps for Soundwave's short dancing before anyone else arrives* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:44 pm *Soundwave freezes where he is and assumes a more composed figure. He prods the snacks meant for him and his curiously.* Prowl 7:44 pm *appears; surveys room; takes seat next to ratchet* Bevel 7:45 pm ((ok i forgot the opening to the song was like three minutes lol gonna start if everyone's ready Ratchet 7:45 pm *they're all the same, except for Prowl's. and Ratchet is taking the one for him and MOVING AWAY from the snack table* Bevel 7:45 pm Thanks, Ratchet! *she's gonna vault over her chair to get to the table quickly because why the frag not* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:46 pm *Well, he'll take their portion and MOVE AWAY to his own spot as well. With a polite* [[...Thank you.]] Ratchet 7:46 pm *he's trying a thing, but that's TOO close to Soundwave.* Don't mention it. Hey, Prowl. Prowl 7:47 pm Hello. Tarantulas 7:47 pm *time for tarantulas to show up just in time for the actual eps* Bevel 7:47 pm *best timing Tara* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:48 pm [[Ah, yes... the mirror timeline. We are in for a night, aren't we.]] Prowl 7:48 pm *hi tarantulas prowl is going to sort of stare at you and will you to come over.* Bevel 7:48 pm I hope so. I want to find out what happens with Lorca. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:48 pm *Settles into his seat and rests a few coils of his feelers over himself. Part warmth preservation, part protective blanket.* Ratchet 7:49 pm [[ i just got the best ask ]] [[ i'm laughing ]] Tarantulas 7:49 pm *oh, no need to will him to come over, he's already on his way, prowl* Ratchet 7:50 pm *Ratchet is going to will Tarantulas to sit on the other side of Prowl, please* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:50 pm ((what's the ask)) Prowl 7:51 pm *is lap an acceptable compromise* Ratchet 7:51 pm *no that's specifically what Ratchet is willing Tarantulas to not do. other side, other side, other side.* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:51 pm [[...The one who died handling the tardigrade.]] [[He wonders how much worse she will be here.]] Prowl 7:52 pm She's still alive. Perhaps she has some healthy self-preservation abilities. Ratchet 7:52 pm [[ "You know, Jazz answers as Iacon Central Headquarters often enough I'm half waiting for mechs to start calling his private comm thinking they have the number for the actual central headquarters." ]] ItsyBitsySpyers 7:52 pm ((LMAO)) Bevel 7:52 pm ((lol Prowl 7:52 pm ((omg)) Tarantulas 7:54 pm *sadly for prowl, tarantulas is gonna settle in at prowl's side unless suggested otherwise* Prowl 7:55 pm *well, good enough. he'll quietly weave an arm around Tarantulas's elbow.* ItsyBitsySpyers 7:57 pm [[Easily.]] *Mutter.* Prowl 7:58 pm ... Keep this footage out of Decepticon hands. Bevel 7:58 pm ...which Decepticons? ItsyBitsySpyers 7:59 pm [[He has shared none of it.]] Prowl 7:59 pm All Decepticons, obviously. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:59 pm *Looks at Bevel. What did you do.* Bevel 7:59 pm Even the negative polarity ones? *nothing, she's just wondering specifics* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:00 pm [[Even them. If they were captured and interrogated by Ra-- by the enemy, the information would become available to someone we already know would use it.]] Prowl 8:00 pm The terminology "negative polarity" is poor because it sets up a false dichotomy along a single axis while ignoring all the other axes upon which two universes might be "opposite" to each other. Bevel 8:02 pm The only other word I have heard used was shattered. Prowl 8:02 pm As have I. Also flawed for the same reasons. It's "broken" in comparison to an artificially-established list of criteria via which a universe is defined as "unbroken." From the perspective of a Decepticon in a "shattered" universe, OUR universes are the "shattered" ones in which Decepticons have morally drifted astray. Bevel 8:03 pm Oh oh! How about emberverse? Since they have embers instead of sparks. Prowl 8:03 pm Better, we'll go with that. Bevel 8:03 pm *yay* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:03 pm *Quietly adjusts his language banks.* Prowl 8:04 pm Anyway—them too, because possessing an ember isn't necessarily going to ensure they possess the correct moral code. Bevel 8:04 pm I will keep these records safe. Soundwave can help. Prowl 8:04 pm A single network, that one person is capable of destroying completely by ACCIDENT, links a large number of universes, and much organic life is dependent upon it. Ratchet 8:05 pm Sounds like exactly the kind of thing Megatron'd love. Prowl 8:05 pm He said that "life as they know it"—in other words, organic life—will die if the system dies. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:05 pm [[It is.]] Bevel 8:05 pm That would be awful. Prowl 8:06 pm It does. Organic life's weak spot. Destroy it and mecha rule the universe—every universe. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:07 pm [[...He hopes the Stamets we know understands his alternate's work well enough to save them without him.]] Prowl 8:08 pm It wouldn't be on the top of every Decepticons' priority lists, but enough. Bevel 8:08 pm ...This guy sounds like Megatron but less angry. Tarantulas 8:08 pm I think it depends more on how clever Stamets is in the first place. He should be able to figure it out on his own. Tarantulas 8:10 pm * !!! organic life signs made undetectable* Tarantulas 8:11 pm *he wonders if stamets gave her that tech. tara might have a small crush on the man now* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:11 pm *Only now?* Tarantulas 8:11 pm *hush you* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:12 pm *....Has trouble imagining himself doing the same thing in the Michael human's shoes.* *She is a brave fleshling.* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:17 pm *Leans forward.* Prowl 8:17 pm *same* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:18 pm [[The coordinates should still be in the captain's chair. That is where he modified them.]] Prowl 8:18 pm ... A good act. She made it more believable by not acting like she was totally on board with him. She used her real reluctance and distrust to make it MORE believable that she was joining him. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:19 pm *Nodding.* Prowl 8:19 pm *in prowl's opinion that's some damn high level acting there. level 10 spy work.* *it's probably more like level 6 spy work, which is why it's a good thing prowl isn't an agent himself.* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:20 pm *Uncomfortable shift. This is a trap. Lorca is going to take them all out despite his promise to Michael.* Bevel 8:20 pm *Bevel was impressed either way* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:21 pm *OH* Ratchet 8:21 pm It's not her Georgiou, but it's nice to see 'em together again. Prowl 8:22 pm In a twisted way, yes. Bevel 8:22 pm *watching the hand-to-hand avidly* Tarantulas 8:22 pm *hums in agreement* Ratchet 8:22 pm [[ that's a high kick prowl would be proud of ]] Prowl 8:22 pm Of course, she is a tyrant. And we've no evidence she's any less brutal a tyrant than Lorca would have been. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:25 pm *Plating shudder.* [[That did not look pleasant.]] [[But there is an obvious problem with this 'victory'.]] *Motions to Philippa's comment.* Prowl 8:25 pm What? The fact that she's going to die anyway? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:26 pm [[Yes. That is, a problem for her. Personally, he would be glad to see it. One moment of mercy cannot guarantee more.]] [[...And that was damned stupid.]] Prowl 8:26 pm It was. Bevel 8:26 pm Oh. Oh no. Tarantulas 8:27 pm *bouncing in his seat a little* Bevel 8:27 pm She should not have done that. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:27 pm [[-Throw her back.-]] Prowl 8:27 pm Because it went so well the last time someone with the goals, skills, and aspirations of an emperor entered their universe with the rank of a captain. Ratchet 8:27 pm *sighs and leans forward to put face in hands* She really did that. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:28 pm *PERK. Look... look at how beautiful...* Tarantulas 8:29 pm *isn't it tho* Prowl 8:29 pm What's she going to do with her?! Release her in the wild? Keep her in a cage and comb her fur sometimes? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:30 pm *Shakes himself a little. What he wouldn't do to travel that, just once...* [[They can do nothing except keep her a permanent prisoner. It would be better she were dead.]] [[NINE MONTHS?]] [[...Nine months facing the Klingons without their warping ability...]] Bevel 8:32 pm Oh no. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:32 pm *Primus below.* Bevel 8:32 pm Oh no they lost. Prowl 8:32 pm But have they any legal right to lock her up? She's committed no crime against Starfleet. By their own laws they have no just reason to keep her locked up. Therefore, they're either legally obligated to set a dangerous warlord free, or morally obligated to violate their own laws and wrongfully imprison what is, technically, an innocent person. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:33 pm [[Surely the various threats against the Michael human's person...?]] Prowl 8:34 pm She thought that she was speaking t-- ItsyBitsySpyers 8:34 pm *Oh, this is going to be a rough one, isn't it.* Prowl 8:34 pm *DAMN those needle fingers.* *give him a moment.* ... She thought she was speaking to a traitor who had attempted a coup against her. She was within her legal rights to punish said traitor accordingly. She ceased her attempts when Michael's true identity was revealed. Tarantulas 8:35 pm *processes for a moment, then wraps an extra arm or two around prowl. can't help himself* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:35 pm [[...That will not help his perception of her, will it.]] Prowl 8:36 pm *... why arms?* Tarantulas 8:36 pm *nnno reason* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:37 pm [[And he supposes that is true. Perhaps they will get lucky and she will pick a fight with someone capable of ending it.]] Ratchet 8:37 pm *shifts aside a little* Prowl 8:37 pm *looks at ratchet. ... looks at tarantulas. hm.* Ratchet 8:37 pm *... scoots a little to put legs back in contact with Prowl's* Prowl 8:37 pm *... looks at feet.* *oh, prowl's not going to like this scene. please no more tyler scenes.* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:38 pm [[...She is willing to use Saru for insight, and yet she will not return the favor.]] Prowl 8:39 pm She's under no obligation to face that. The "favor" he asks for is high. *dammit they're having a tyler scene even though she left. he'd got his hopes up when michael left.* Bevel 8:39 pm Especially after he tried to kill her. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:41 pm [[She -ate one of his brethren-. It might help restore his opinion of her.]] Prowl 8:41 pm Not knowingly or willingly. She can make it up to him another way. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:42 pm *Soft vent. He can see he's outnumbered on this.*

((though i myself agree with her not going in)) [[...Did the Fire Wolf's rebels find a way into the timel--]] *Helm tilt. What is this? Are these survivors?* Prowl 8:43 pm ... Oh. They're checking f— ... for— for more Voqs. Bevel 8:45 pm I am glad the admiral is ok. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:45 pm *They MUST be desperate. A Vulcan just used his mental abilities without asking permission first. That is nigh unthinkable.* Prowl 8:46 pm *YES. IT IS, INDEED, RATHER SHAKING.* Prowl 8:47 pm *oh, good, mass slaughter of civilians, Prowl can handle this.* Bevel 8:47 pm *she'd rather go back to the mind melding ;v;* Ratchet 8:48 pm *okay nevermind the spider arms, Ratchet is shifting back over to lean on Prowl* Tarantulas 8:48 pm *tara won't bother him, rest assured* ItsyBitsySpyers 8:49 pm *...Suddenly can't hear, doesn't know what they're talking about, doing bizarre things to resurrect loved ones, who does that.* *Certainly not rational mechs like him, no.* [[It was not you. You live only because you were rescued in a moment of mistaken compassion.]] Prowl 8:51 pm She said, more or less, "One is alive, one is dead, BUT I will let you determine who is stronger." The "but" implies that she believes the answer will be the reverse of what the first half of the sentence would imply. I think she called herself the weak one. Bevel 8:52 pm Punch him. Prowl 8:53 pm Despite the fact that it wasn't really him, I think a punch wouldn't be unjustified. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:53 pm [[It would be understandable, at least.]] Bevel 8:53 pm ...that might have been just as good but I still would have punched him. Prowl 8:53 pm Understandable. Yes. That's a better word. Ratchet 8:53 pm Tilly's so good. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:54 pm ((tilly is my whole world)) Bevel 8:54 pm ((Tilly is everything <3 Prowl 8:54 pm Big change from Miss "We Have Assigned Seating." Tarantulas 8:54 pm (( truth. but hhh. i'm not feeling well irl, i might have to go nap ItsyBitsySpyers 8:54 pm ((aaaaaaa noooo ;; but feeling good is important, if you have to nap you have to nap *pet pet* )) Prowl 8:54 pm ((:c *hugs*)) Bevel 8:54 pm ((*pets* Hope you feel better soon. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:55 pm ((we can catch you up some time)) Tarantulas 8:55 pm (( assume tarantulas had to leave for an emergency i guess ;;; ItsyBitsySpyers 8:55 pm ((FIRE IN THE LAB)) Bevel 8:55 pm ((something exploded *sucks in air through her teeth* Nooooo. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:57 pm [[He wonders if the Earthlings know yet.]] [[...Or if they have been taken over.]] Prowl 8:58 pm *... he already misses the arms.* Prowl 9:01 pm Because the last time she asked a parent figure how to beat the Klingons, it went so well. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:01 pm *Huff* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:03 pm ((*giggles for ooc reasons*)) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:04 pm ((half expected prowl to be over there like "oh hey hitting every single military installation on a planet at once, i've done that")) Ratchet 9:05 pm [[ i was thinking that []] [[ it's just like the happy fic ]] ItsyBitsySpyers 9:05 pm ((ye)) Prowl 9:05 pm ((i was doing duolingo lmao)) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:06 pm [[...They're going to plant more?]] *Fascinated. Which quickly drops away.* [[Why is he there. He should not be there.]] Prowl 9:06 pm (("i'm a better parent than you")) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:07 pm *This cannot end well.* Bevel 9:07 pm ... Prowl 9:07 pm Hm. She suggested hitting the military installations. She meant destroying the entire planet. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:08 pm [[Of course she did.]] Prowl 9:08 pm I HAD wondered why she didn't say that in the first place. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:10 pm *...No.* Ratchet 9:10 pm [[ i'm still 100% over the "love" thing ]] ItsyBitsySpyers 9:10 pm [[She waited for one who would agree.]] Prowl 9:12 pm ... She is under NO obligation to be his salvation. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:14 pm *Oooh?* *What fabulous little devices.* ((rabbit why are you eating my messages)) Prowl 9:15 pm *honestly, deep down, just wants to keep Tyler off the screen as much as possible.* ((look! it spat them back out)) Bevel 9:15 pm ((gj rabbit ItsyBitsySpyers 9:16 pm [[...That is amazing. He did not know organic - plants? Could grow so rapidly.]] Bevel 9:16 pm Whoa that is fast. Prowl 9:17 pm He isn't gone! He's still in your head! You've said so yourself! ItsyBitsySpyers 9:18 pm [[She cannot do this because you TRIED TO KILL HER.]] Prowl 9:19 pm Who is HE to accuse her of being unfair! He DID try to kill her! And—AS SHE SAID—he lied to her—in a way that endangered her life and killed a doctor! His love for her doesn't change what he did and what he is, and it doesn't obligate her to help him. She does not owe him that. Not a bit. Bevel 9:20 pm *frowns at Tyler* Ratchet 9:20 pm Why does it have to be her, anyway. He's got friends. Prowl 9:20 pm The fact that he has decided he needs her in his life doesn't mean she should give up a part of her own life for him. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:21 pm *Recording her words so hard.* Ratchet 9:21 pm [[ anyway i hate that they were ever involved i hated their whole subplot ]] ItsyBitsySpyers 9:21 pm ((i'm glad they had her leave tho)) Prowl 9:22 pm He said it himself. The other crewmates have been kinder to him than her. So he can turn to THEM for emotional support. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:23 pm [[.........No.]] [[They aren't this naive...]] Prowl 9:24 pm They were JUST IN the other universe! Bevel 9:25 pm ((okay, it's early enough we can end the season if y'all want Prowl 9:25 pm ((i wanna)) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:25 pm ((YES PLZ)) Ratchet 9:25 pm [[ yeh ]] Bevel 9:25 pm ((aight let's do this ItsyBitsySpyers 9:25 pm *Curls his fingers into his knees. Is this an alternate timeline from the one he knows? He's heard of a splinter where Vulcan is destroyed. It's got to be possible.* Ratchet 9:26 pm [[ i gotta run to the bathroom real quick first tho pls ]] Bevel 9:26 pm ((go for it Prowl 9:26 pm ((*runs too*)) Ratchet 9:28 pm [[ ty ]] [[ also i think i've mentioned but i appreciate that you leave the captions on ]] Bevel 9:29 pm This is the last file I could find from this part of their timeline. I will keep looking but I can show other stuff I have found. ((I need them myself but I'm always happy to accommodate, they're so useful ((Cro and Puff ran off as well so we've got a moment to enjoy CBS' beautiful logo ItsyBitsySpyers 9:31 pm ((i use the captions too tbh. leave them on for our tv at home all the time)) Prowl 9:31 pm ((okay back)) Bevel 9:31 pm ((also also, Disco got nominated for 5 Saturn Awards \o/ Ratchet 9:31 pm [[ i have captions on for youtube and netflix, always ]] ItsyBitsySpyers 9:32 pm ((just a sec, waiting on soup to microwave)) Bevel 9:32 pm ((same, ok we ready? ((ok still waiting ItsyBitsySpyers 9:32 pm ((the only time i don't use captions on movie nights is if i have to find it like on youtube or something and it doesn't have them... but tbh that's why we started renting things off amazon)) Prowl 9:33 pm ((i usually don't leave captions on because when i do i automatically focus on reading them, even if i can understand the dialogue perfectly, instead of actually looking at what's happening on screen)) Ratchet 9:33 pm [[ i usually can't understand he dialogue perfectly, i just don't process it ]] Prowl 9:34 pm ((and then get distracted/irked by captioner or timing errors)) Bevel 9:34 pm ((Same, I've got auditory processing issues bad Ratchet 9:34 pm [[ i'm usually done reading captions well before they're done speaking and can focus on the visual ]] Prowl 9:34 pm ((i focus on them THROUGH the speaking EVEN THOUGH i've already read them because my brain doesn't know how to stop looking when there are words to look at)) Bevel 9:35 pm ((Hopefully Disco's timing hasn't been too off for you, Puff ItsyBitsySpyers 9:35 pm ((aaaaah i'm sorry ;; i hope it doesn't make mondays too rough but ye auditory processing problems here too ;; ))

((soup got)) Prowl 9:36 pm ((it's been awful. the words linger on the screen long after the dialogue is over until someone says something new, and whenever klingons say something it's covered up by captions that say "[speaking in klingon]" like THANKS, NOW MOVE)) Bevel 9:36 pm ((ok gonna start now Prowl 9:36 pm ((LIKE THAT!!)) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:36 pm ((CASE IN POINT)) ((i hate that too don't worry)) ((ACTUALLY when the text appears on the bottom the captions should temporarily move to the top of the screen... that's how it's supposed to be)) ((idk why they don't do it like that)) Prowl 9:37 pm ((USUALLY captions i see do that. that would fix it.)) Bevel 9:37 pm ((i really wish they would do that yeah Prowl 9:37 pm ((i have like, mild auditory processing problems. when i watch something on my own i usually turn off the captions, watch until i don't process something they said, mutter in annoyance, rewind ten seconds, turn on captions, watch until i realize that idk what's happening on screen because i'm reading the captions instead, mutter in annoyance, turn them off, rinse, repeat)) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:37 pm ((and if there are items on top and bottom then they just stay on the bottom)) ((oof)) Bevel 9:38 pm ((i just... keep watching and don't understand what's happening ItsyBitsySpyers 9:39 pm *Soundwave folds his hands and settles into them. This is already going poorly.* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:41 pm [[She will get herself terminated in her sleep.]] Prowl 9:42 pm I don't think the emperor will wait until she's asleep. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:42 pm [[You're probably right.]] *HUFF* Ratchet 9:43 pm [[ i love georgiou's accent ]] Bevel 9:44 pm ((Michelle Yeoh is such a gift Prowl 9:46 pm *every scene with him is unpleasant.* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:47 pm *Soundwave pings Prowl.*

[[You recall Odo and Quark being trapped on the mountain and discussions of the Orion Syndicate?]] [[They speak of them.]] Prowl 9:49 pm I recall. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:49 pm [[And the Lorca human had an entire room of weapons. He is sure they have plenty to trade.]] Ratchet 9:49 pm [[ :c tilly's curls are beautiful ]] Bevel 9:50 pm ((i love her hair so much ItsyBitsySpyers 9:51 pm ((who even eats ceti eels)) ((what person said "i'll take this mind-controlling worm bug thing and EAT IT")) Bevel 9:54 pm ((Trill~ Prowl 9:54 pm *heavy frown. Prowl does not like this place. not at all.* *it has bead curtains.* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:54 pm [[...Really. On a mission and this is where she decides to be?]] ((oh my god prowl)) Prowl 9:55 pm Do you know many better places to find influential people with poor impulse control than a sex club? ((SUBTITLES)) Bevel 9:56 pm ((I'm gonna skip back and remove them for a second ItsyBitsySpyers 9:56 pm ((can you rewind and uncover)) [[...Comment withdrawn. You are, of course, right.]] Bevel 9:58 pm ((maybe they'll be less annoying if they're smaller Prowl 9:58 pm ... See. He still has the same person underneath. Bevel 9:58 pm Oooo. *leans forward* ItsyBitsySpyers 9:59 pm *...What kind of art was that? He wants one.*

[[Their memories, at least.]] Prowl 9:59 pm A person IS their memories. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:59 pm [[You won't find an argument here. He meant a separate set from Tyler's.]] Bevel 9:59 pm So he is both Ash and Voq now? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:01 pm [[Mm.]] Bevel 10:02 pm *excited about these tattoos* Prowl 10:04 pm ((i like that she waited until after she'd got laid to interrogate them.)) Bevel 10:04 pm ((Tilly you're so perfect ItsyBitsySpyers 10:04 pm [[He knew it.]] [[How did they NOT see this coming?]] Prowl 10:05 pm They knew something was happening. They didn't know what or how soon. They probably thought they could see it coming before it happened and head it off. ... I suppose they DID see it coming before it happened. Narrowly. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:10 pm [[...Ahhh.]] Bevel 10:10 pm They are giving it to L'rell? Prowl 10:10 pm Tyler, I expect. Mm. Could be wrong. Prowl 10:13 pm ... I'm not sure giving her the power to reunify Klingon is the best strategic decision. Bevel 10:14 pm But it was a peaceful one. Prowl 10:14 pm There are many peaceful strategies that don't involve giving her the power to reunify the army that's steadily slaughtering their people. Ratchet 10:15 pm They're competing to see who can kill the most now, though. United, they'll be more predictable. Prowl 10:15 pm And more efficient. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:16 pm [[It does prove that the Federation does not wish them to crumble and perish.]] Prowl 10:17 pm They could have proven that by finding some Klingon pacifist to hand the weapon to. Prowl 10:18 pm ... Hm. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:18 pm [[He doubts they would command the respect necessary to convince the others they would follow through with it.]] Prowl 10:18 pm They're fortunate she called for peace. In prison, she was very much against it. They wouldn't need to "convince the others they would follow through with it"—the POINT is, the Federation could prove to the Klingons that they don't want them to crumble and perish by giving the bomb to someone THEY KNOW will never detonate it. Bevel 10:20 pm ((Sarek gets 1 parent point. He's now at -99 Prowl 10:20 pm ((eyyyy, down to double digits! way to go sarek.)) Bevel 10:20 pm *memorizes this* Bevel 10:24 pm ((look at my pizza cutter ships i love them Prowl 10:24 pm ((of course the USS enterprise is hailing for help)) ((they're in trouble every 12 minutes)) Bevel 10:24 pm ((lol ItsyBitsySpyers 10:25 pm *Can see what Prowl is getting at, but is certain they could not have found such a person in so short a time, and does not know that it would work when so much revolves around a willingness to do battle. He would like to see what happened in a timeline where that WAS the case. Make some decisions with more data.* Ratchet 10:25 pm [[ wow that season went all over the map and then some ]] Bevel 10:25 pm ((I really hope this means next season we get to see Number One ahhhhh ItsyBitsySpyers 10:25 pm ((i think part of it was that they changed people in charge like partway through the season? but also they didn't know if they were gonna have a second so GO ALL OUT)) [[A pleasing enough tale, though he is concerned about the free-roaming Terran.]] [[For now, he should return home. There is much to do.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 10:28 pm ((like DANCIN time to write that up)) Bevel 10:28 pm If I find more files I will let you know. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:28 pm ((well, greeting the lady sparklight anyway)) Prowl 10:28 pm *turns to Ratchet* I will see you... the next time we have one of these, I suppose. Ratchet 10:28 pm [[ prowl pls "in between blue and magenta" ]] Prowl 10:28 pm ((there are six colors, okay)) ItsyBitsySpyers 10:28 pm [[Thank you. He appreciates the additions to his records. It is surprisingly difficult to acquire this data at times.]] Prowl 10:29 pm ((red, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and magenta)) ItsyBitsySpyers 10:29 pm [[Something about so much of it being classified.]] *Quiet huffing.* Prowl 10:29 pm Pff. I can't imagine what kind of encryption these files were initially kept under. Ratchet 10:29 pm Mhmm. I'll see ya. Prowl 10:30 pm ... I can go outside, now. We should—visit. Sometime. Bevel 10:30 pm *yes ignore how encrypted these files were >_>* I want to see the mushroom planet. Ratchet 10:31 pm You mentioned something about that. I wasn't sure--but yes. The Ark's always open to you. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:31 pm [[It tends to be quite powerful, for organic security. He finds appealing to the right people works wonders, though.]]

*And on THAT note... a small bow to Bevel, a nod to Ratchet and Prowl with a ping for the latter, and he'll get on his way.* Bevel 10:32 pm *waves to Soundwave* ((nope weak she changed the pronouns Prowl 10:34 pm *a farewell ping to Soundwave and to Ratchet, and he disappears as well.* Bevel 10:37 pm ((Lemme know when you've got the log, Puff Prowl 10:38 pm ((got it!)) Bevel 10:39 pm ((ok!

[artificialqueens]

Just The Game We're In- Chapter 7, Part 1 (Ortega)

A/N: hello all i’m v tired!!!!! here is part one of two of chapter 7 bc i didn’t want to subject mobile users to mental amounts of scrolling again! thank u to everyone that’s shown love and interest in this fic, it honestly warms my heart and means the world to me. sadly, I can’t say when you’ll all see me again. I start my job in 2 weeks and I don’t have part 2 written yet, but i’m going to try to make time for writing so that you guys aren’t left hanging. i love and appreciate u!!! thanks to the amazing Dottie, my aq brits gals, and especially pureCAMP who motivated me to write the final two sections with a speed that will probably never be paralleled again. love u all!!!!

Plot Summary: Willam is a senior political advisor to the government’s minister for social affairs and citizenship, Sharon Needles. Throw in a crush on co-worker Courtney, Sharon acting weird around Willam’s colleague Alaska, an incompetent press department headed by Actual Living Zombie Jinkx Monsoon, and Willam’s job couldn’t get much more stressful. No wonder spin doctor Bianca Del Rio is permanently at the end of her tether…

Finishing the final line in the leaflet she’d been working on, Willam hit the save button in satisfaction. Looking around her desk, she immediately tried to find the to-do list she’d made and crossed off Refugee Housing Policy Literature. She leaned back in her chair and stretched, her back cracking as she interlocked her fingers and lifted her arms high into the air. How long had she been sitting at her desk? Casting an eye over to the clock, she was a little taken aback when she realised it was 5pm. Even if the clock hadn’t been there she probably could have told the time by the office’s human equivalent of a sundial; the comms team were packing up their things, pulling their coats on, and making to leave.

Willam supposed she wasn’t that surprised she’d lost track of time. Truth be told, she had almost lost track of what day it was. For the past two months she’d cocooned herself in her work, throwing herself into each job Sharon gave them as Bianca’s hint at a promotion replayed over and over in her mind like a screensaver. It had been all go at the department pretty much since Sharon’s plane had hit the tarmac at Heathrow airport; her presentation at Brussels had been incredibly well-received and the approval from so many other countries pretty much pressured the Prime Minister into backing the policy and giving it the green light, much to the delight of the department and the chagrin of the opposition. Over the past few weeks, Willam had taken the lead in crafting responses to jabs from Phi Phi both in the media and in parliament, organising positive coverage and press opportunities from the newspapers, and creating the literature that would be given out at the policy’s official launch a month away. She was exhausted, but it was a good exhaustion, like how Willam imagined a runner would feel after completing a sprint- she wouldn’t know, she hadn’t run since she was in school- but this job was a sort of series of sprints, Willam supposed. It was fast-paced and intense and sometimes utterly terrifying, but the euphoria at the end was so worth it.

She honestly hadn’t given Courtney a second thought. And her heart definitely didn’t still jump a little as she looked over to her desk and saw her getting ready to go home. In reality, Willam knew that if she wanted to move up the ladder, she didn’t have time to start anything with anyone, not that Courtney wanted to start anything with her, clearly. Which was fine. Willam was okay with that, in fact she was completely over it. The whole thing had just been a stupid crush, totally fleeting. Courtney was just her friend, that was all.

As Courtney approached her desk, Willam made that little speech to herself in her mind, just to remind herself that if any old feelings decided to pop up during their conversation, it was just a false alarm. Like a fire drill. Not real feelings, just her heart playing tricks on her.

Work was more important.

“Hey,” Courtney smiled, looking at Willam and then at the clock. “A bunch of us are going over to Pearl’s flat for dinner if you want to join. It’ll probably descend into a wine night, and I’ve told them a million times that I have to be up early tomorrow, but of course they won’t listen. You in?”

Courtney’s face seemed so hopeful, and it reminded Willam of how she’d looked at her when she’d asked her to stay at her flat all those months ago, and then when she’d asked her to stay in her bed. Her heart felt as if it was being wrung out. Fire drill, fire drill.

“It sounds great, but I’m going to stay and look at these polls Bianca sent over,” Willam quirked her mouth into an apologetic grimace. Seeing Courtney’s bright expression falter a little, Willam felt compelled to add something that would make it better. “Like you said, early start tomorrow, right?”

Just as Willam had hoped, the smile was back on Courtney’s face. “Oh I’m super excited! The weather’s supposed to be really nice too, and the hotel is apparently amazing!”

Willam couldn’t help but crack a smile. “The weather’s not going to matter. We’ll be stuck in conference rooms 90% of the time. Do you think we can ask to do all the debates outside like in primary school?”

As Courtney gave an amused laugh, Willam felt her heart thud in her chest. Tucking her hair behind her ears, Courtney gave her a shy sort of smile.

“Still, even if it is going to be work guising as a weekend away, I’m looking forward to it. I’m so excited for us to spend time together again,” she said softly, then gave a sort of cough and backed up. “As in, like, all of us. Me, you, Alaska, Sharon. It’ll be fun.”

Willam tried to stop herself reading into what Courtney had said. Fire drill. “Yeah, no. It’ll be good.”

Courtney sort of awkwardly hovered at Willam’s desk, her eyes cast almost nervously to the floor. Willam felt as if she was made entirely of ice, not wanting to move in case she scared her away as if Courtney was some sort of forest animal. Just as Courtney opened her mouth to speak again, Trixie yelled from across the department.

“Is she coming or what? I’m fucking starving!”

Courtney furrowed her brow and flared her nostrils, seemingly annoyed at being interrupted. “No, she’s staying to do work.”

Katya tilted her head to the side and gave Willam an awed look in response to the information. “You’re staying past five again? What the fuck, Willam? You’ve been working harder than Rihanna and Fifth Harmony combined!”

“Well some of us have got to get shit done around here,” Willam shrugged nonchalantly. Turning back to Courtney, she couldn’t help her face softening. “Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early!”

Courtney gave a small laugh she didn’t quite seem committed to. “Can’t wait. Night, Will.”

As Courtney walked away from her desk, Willam noticed her shoulders were sort of slumped.

“Alaska! Pearl’s?” Adore shouted, distracting Willam. Alaska made a pouty face.

“Can’t. I’ve still got the debrief from Brussels to write up,” she groaned, leaning on her palm with her chin.  

“That was due ages ago! Sharon’s going to kill you,” Violet gasped, shocked. Alaska leaned back in her chair, her poker face excellent.

“Not if Bianca gets there first. Enjoy your night, ladies.”

Shouting goodbyes across the department, Willam took a moment to think about the weekend ahead. She supposed it wasn’t really the weekend per se; tomorrow was Friday, but it was also the very first day of the party conference, also known as the biggest piss-up of the political calendar. Comms members were left behind in order for MPs, cabinet ministers and their political advisors to let off steam. Sure, the days were filled with debates, speakers and networking, but the evenings were reserved for debauchery. Much as Willam had been throwing herself into her work, she was secretly looking forward to a chance to let her hair down a bit, and even if that chance was only at a Hilton hotel in the South of England then she’d still take it. Her excitement was balanced by a little nervousness, though. Over the weekend Sharon would properly present her policy to the members of her own party for the first time, and the rumblings within the party revealed that there were several ministers who were still frosty towards Dosac as a result of the entire legacy fiasco. Willam could only hope that Sharon would be able to turn the charm on as she was usually able.

Just then, Sharon came out of her office a little furtively, walking towards Alaska’s desk and scanning the office.

“Is that everyone gone?” she asked, her voice low but still audible. Alaska smiled up at her girlfriend, clearly happy to be able to drop the professional charade.

“It’s just Willam. So we’re all good,” she beamed. Sharon smiled back at her and sat on her desk, leaning in and kissing Alaska’s forehead gently.

“I still have a functioning set of eyeballs so let’s keep everything U-rated, you gross sons of bitches,” Willam snorted, trying to pretend she was disdainful but really felt her heart both warming and breaking at how affectionate the two of them were. Alaska moved her mouse with one hand while Sharon held her other, their fingers laced together. Sharon took some time out from gazing adoringly at her girlfriend to shoot a glare Willam’s way.

“That’s a shame, we were looking forward to doing that very secret and bad thing we do with your Sharpies after you go home,” she drawled, earning a snort from Alaska.

“So how are you guys even going to function this weekend anyway? I don’t suppose the hotel’s going to conveniently fuck up another booking?” Willam smirked, clicking onto her emails at the same time. Alaska rolled her eyes.

“Do you think we have a combined IQ of four? No, of course not,” she laughed, then looked up at Sharon. “It’s going to be good old-fashioned sneaking around. Sharon will get a double bed so we just have to make sure the hallways are clear every time I’m going to hers. It’ll be easy.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be very easy. I mean it’s not like the entire party and all their advisors are going to be staying in the same hotel or anything,” Willam looked pointedly at her, feeling a little exasperated.

“Trust me, Willam, we’ll be careful. Just like we’ve been these past five months.”

Trying not to shake her head, Willam just exhaled deeply. She was happy for them both, but she was probably never going to stop worrying about their ticking time bomb of a relationship and how long they both had until they were found out. If they weren’t worried about it, then surely someone had to be? Looking across at them both, she bit her tongue as she saw that Alaska had turned around in her chair and now had both of her hands in Sharon’s, the minister leaning in giving her a sweet kiss. Out of respect, or perhaps nausea, Willam averted her eyes back to her monitor. Sure enough, the polls were there in a mass email from Bianca, along with a reminder of the bi-elections in May. It seemed ridiculously early for a reminder already, but Willam supposed that was how politics worked. Support had to be drummed up well in advance, and she reasoned that she’d probably be approached at the conference by a lot of hopeful potential MPs wanting to worm their way into the House of Commons. Clicking on the PDF file, she scrolled through pie charts and graphs searching for relevant statistics. She was suddenly distracted by a ringing from the phone in Sharon’s office. Looking up, she furrowed her brow at Alaska and Sharon, similar confusion painted over both their faces. Calls weren’t supposed to go through to Sharon’s office unless they had been vetted by Jinkx, and Jinkx had already left. If it was Bianca or somebody else from within the party, they’d contact Sharon’s iPhone.

“Hmm. Weird. I’ll answer that and then we can head back to mine? I’m making lamb,” Sharon said proudly, then swung her legs off Alaska’s desk and walked through to her office.

As she heard Sharon’s muffled voice answer the phone, Willam finally found the statistics she’d been looking for. Screwing her face up, she slowly read the numbers in front of her again. They couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be possible.

“Alaska,” Willam yelled over to her friend. “Have you read the polls Bianca sent over?”

Alaska simply shook her head. Willam spoke again. “Read them and go to page 56. I’m not quite sure I’m seeing what’s in front of me.”

Alaska dutifully followed Willam’s orders. Willam watched as she clearly reached the page she was talking about, her face completely falling in shock. “Oh shit. This is bad.”

As Willam turned to Sharon’s office, she was only shocked further when she saw the minister standing by her desk, her face as white as a sheet and the minister very visibly shaken. Concerned, Willam rose from her seat and made her way to her office, Alaska following behind. As they walked into the glass-fronted office, Sharon turned to both of them, her expression one of fear.

“What is it? Who was phoning?”

Sharon wordlessly pressed a single button on the phone and the conversation began to replay.

“Hello, Sharon Needles, Minister for Dosac?”

A male voice- aggressive, hissing. “You’re fucking dead the next time I see you, you fucking traitor bitch.”

“…sorry?”

“You fucking heard me, you cunt. I’m going to throw acid in your face then make sure you’re fucking hanged, you quisling bitch.”

“How did you get this number?”

“You should be more concerned about the fact that I’m going to make sure you fucking die, you terrorist sympathiser cunt! Watch your fucking back.”

With that, there was the sound of an empty telephone line, the flatline a start contrast to Willam’s own heart, which was hammering in her ribcage. Alaska, who had previously been standing with her mouth wide in shock, omitted a little squeak and rushed behind the desk to hold her girlfriend, the both of them visibly upset. Death threats to politicians were unfortunately common, but this was the first time Willam had ever had to deal with a physical phone call, most of the abuse being able to be ignored on social media. This was different- a voice, a person, someone who had physically sought out a phone number that was incredibly difficult to obtain, and this made Willam nervous. Looking at Sharon again, she could see that she was still fearful, her whole body language tense. Alaska was crying, her frame shaking as she tried to quieten her sobs, tears rolling down her face and dropping onto the floor.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Nobody’s going to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice shaky and breath irregular. Sniffing, her voice suddenly grew dark and, releasing her hold on Sharon, she turned to Willam.

“I want that fucking scum put away tonight. I’m phoning Bianca. We need to track the number. I’ll fucking kill him,” she said, storming out of the office. Willam had never seen Alaska this angry- her fists were physically clenched as if she was about to fight, and her jaw was clenched tight.

“Alaska, don’t phone Bianca-” Willam began, as Alaska returned to the office with her mobile. Seething, Alaska whipped round to Willam, her eyes wide in their sockets.

“What the fuck? Of course I’m phoning Bianca, this is fucking serious! We need to get this fucking rotted, disgusting filth locked away! How the fuck are you okay with this?!”

“I’m not okay with it at all!” Willam cried, instantly realising she needed to calm Alaska down. Sharon looked resignedly at her girlfriend.

“Baby, it’s okay, I’m fine-”

“No, you’re not fine! You’ve just received a threat on your life, how can you be fine?!” Alaska yelled in outrage as she tried to scroll at her phone but was prevented by her hands shaking furiously.

“Alaska, you need to calm down,” Willam said softly, Sharon stepping out from behind her desk and wrapping her arms around the taller girl. Heaving a huge sigh Alaska sank into the hug, her face a sort of mix of seething and upset. Taking a moment to clear her head, Willam spoke again.

“Look, I’ll phone Bianca. I’ll also ask her to phone the police. She should have contacts that won’t leak so we can ensure this stays completely out of the media. We’ll make sure you’ve got security- I’ll phone the lobby and make sure you’ve got someone that’ll take you to your car when you leave the offices. That’s all we can do at the moment,” Willam added apologetically, feeling bad for Sharon. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Sighing, Sharon nodded. “I’m fine. It’s just never happened to me before, you know, an actual phone call. It was just an empty threat, these things always are. I mean, you’re not exactly going to warn a politician before you kill them, are you?”

Alaska tensed up. “Sharon, don’t say that.”

“Well all I’m saying is, they know that this shit is only going to result in tighter security. It’s just an empty threat, they want to see me rattled. Which is exactly what I’m not going to give them.”

Willam reflected on what the man had said. “Do you think this is about all you’re doing for the refugees?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, just his choice of words. Traitor, quisling, terrorist sympathiser. They’re classic EDL buzzwords for anyone that wants to let in any migrants at all, never mind ones fleeing war.”

Sharon was silent, looking to the floor in contemplation. Willam took that as an invitation to continue. “Would it be an idea to quieten down on the housing policy and maybe focus on another area of social affairs? We don’t want this to become anything bigger.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes at Willam, her gaze snapping up from the floor. “No. This is exactly what bigots like him want, they want me to stop trying to do something. In a few months, people like him are still going to be as angry about this policy as they are now. There is no way I’m letting this derail anything.”

Still a little uncomfortable, Willam watched as Sharon sighed, then pulled out of the hug and gave Alaska a reassuring smile.

“Are you sure you want to still go to the party conference?” Willam asked hesitantly, Sharon instantly shutting her down.

“Willam, I said this wouldn’t interrupt anything, okay? I’m fine. Everything is business as usual.”

Sucking a breath in through gritted teeth, Willam decided to broach the subject of the polls. “Okay, well if everything is still business as usual. I should probably let you know…you’re ten points behind in the polls.”

Sharon’s mouth dropped open. “Ten points, what the fuck?! What the hell have I done, blended a baby, a puppy and a kitten together in a fucking KitchenAid?!”

Alaska sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “It might be because of your policy. The public knew you were left wing, but could deal with it as long as you weren’t doing anything. People are annoyed you’re doing your job.”

“Fucking fabulous,” Sharon hissed. Alaska shot Willam a glare as if to thank her for ruining their previously romantic evening. Feeling guilty, Willam crossed to Sharon’s desk and picked up her handbag.

“Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out and fix it. I’ll even get Courtney involved,” Willam said as she handed the minister her bag, regretting her last sentence as soon as it was out her mouth. “You guys just go enjoy your night, okay? Or at least try.”

Both Sharon and Alaska gave her a smile of gratitude, Sharon taking her back from Willam’s grasp. “Thanks, Willam. You’re a gift.”

Alaska smirked, seemingly a little more cheerful. “We’ll be thinking of you when she’s got three fingers in my-”

“GO HOME,” Willam yelled, cutting her friend off, her disgust muted at her relief that the couple seemed a lot happier again as they both laughed softly, linked arms and began to leave the office.

The calm and quiet of the department contrasted the instant pile-up of tasks in Willam’s head. Heading to Sharon’s phone and ringing down to the lobby for security, she resigned herself to the fact that it was going to be a long night.

***

Heaving her trundle suitcase down the very final step in her stairwell, Willam pushed open her door and entered into the crisp morning air. It was, for now, a cold day, but there was still the promise of it getting warmer as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Rubbing her eyes a little, she stifled a yawn. As she looked at the time, Willam cursed whoever had booked the hotel so far away. Still, she was a little excited at the prospect of getting out of London. Sharon’s driver was meant to be picking them all up at 6am, but Willam had been texted by Alaska and made aware they were running a little late.

Willam was pretty exhausted. She’d been up all night analysing the polls and figuring out a way to combat Sharon’s falling approval ratings, finally coming up with an answer. She supposed she would have been quicker if she’d contacted Courtney and told her all that had gone on at the department after she’d left, but she hadn’t wanted to ruin her night with the comms girls. Besides, the thought of spending time alone with Courtney wasn’t exactly the most appealing thing to her right now.

Her thought process was interrupted as a sleek black car with blacked-out windows pulled up into Willam’s street.

Well, it’s either Sharon or a long-overdue hitman.

As the car arrived beside her, a single window was lowered to reveal Sharon in a huge pair of sunglasses. Beaming a smile, she shouted out to Willam just as the boot of the car popped open.

“Get in loser, we’re going to engage in stimulating, politically-driven conferences and debates!”

As Willam rolled her eyes and lifted her case into the boot, sitting it beside Alaska’s and Sharon’s, she heard the muffled voice of Alaska from inside the car say something about constantly wondering why she was attracted to her girlfriend. Opening the other side door, Willam climbed inside and sat opposite the couple.

“Hey. How was your night?” Willam asked politely, feeling small-talk would be appropriate before she launched into work matters. Alaska gave a long-suffering sigh and took Sharon’s hand.

“We ended up getting a sub-par chippy because someone’s lamb shanks were so raw they could’ve walked out the fucking oven.”

“Hey, nobody ever told me you had to cook lamb for approximately six hundred years!” Sharon cried incredulously, then laughing as Alaska broke out into a smile beside her. Feeling it was too early for such displays of affection, Willam decided to change topic.

“So, before we do anything else, I think I figured out the drop in the polls,” she began, getting her phone out to illustrate her plan before hearing Sharon groan opposite her.

“Willam, it’s six in the morning. Can we at least wait til the sun’s up before we start talking work?”

“Hey, I’m proud of this idea! I think you’ll like it,” Willam insisted. As Sharon simply rolled her eyes in response, Willam carried on. “Your decrease in approval ratings is mainly amongst the over 40s demographic. So, instead of trying to win them back, we’re going to balance them with the 18 to 25s.”

“Fuck,” Alaska sighed, Sharon bringing her hands up to her face then dragging them down her cheeks. “Will, they never fucking vote.”

“Only because nobody’s connecting with them! Now, we know they like Sharon from the response she gets on twitter. And what is the thing that most 18 to 25 year olds connect with the most?”

“…good policies on higher education?” Sharon tried hopefully.

“Memes!” Willam declared proudly. Sharon and Alaska stared at her as if she’d just grown another head.

“I’ve woken up on another plane of reality,” Sharon blinked blankly.

“Is it not kind of insulting to say that the only way Sharon can connect with younger voters is through memes?” Alaska tilted her head a little.

“Insulting to Sharon or insulting to- you know what, it doesn’t matter, the point is that the memes are politically relevant! I set you up a snapchat account and all you’ve got to do is post some funny, wholesome pictures or videos every now and again. The kids will love you, turn you into a massive meme queen, become more engaged and invested in you than they already are, hype you up no end on social media and increase your approval ratings!”

“Um. What the fuck is snapchat,” Sharon asked, her face blank. Sighing and shaking her head, Willam gestured for Sharon to give her her phone and downloaded the app as Alaska patiently explained how it worked to her girlfriend. Soon enough, Willam was signing into the account she’d made for her boss.

“Okay,” she said, handing it back to Sharon. “Now, do a video or something. Say you’re on your way to the party conference and are excited to hear everyone’s ideas and visions for the future, blah blah blah, political horseshit.”

Looking a little nervous, Sharon positioned the screen across from her face and gave a false smile as she held down the video button.

“Hi everyone, Sharon Needles here and I am on my way to Bournemouth for the party conference! I am so excited to get down and start hearing everyone’s amazing ideas for the year ahe- the video stopped.”

Exasperated, Willam rested her head in her hands. Alaska simply laughed affectionately.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it, sweetie,” she smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “But in all seriousness, this isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had, Wills. How much of it was really down to Courtney?”

Willam felt as if she’d suddenly choked on something. “Oh, um, I never had to contact her in the end. The idea sort of came to me.”

“Speaking of contacting people, did you get in touch with Bianca about that phone call?” Sharon asked, her voice suddenly grave. Willam had. Bianca had seemed a little rattled that whoever it was had managed to obtain a departmental phone number but was convinced it was nothing more than an empty threat, and Willam conveyed this to Sharon.

“She’s got someone at the Metropolitan working on it. Shouldn’t be too hard to trace the number once they phone the network provider,” she explained, her heart seizing up as she recognised the familiar new-build flats outside the window. “We should probably stop talking about this now that we’re at Courtney’s.”

“Why? Wasn’t she made aware?” Sharon asked, her voice turning a little stern.

Willam let out a sigh. “I didn’t tell her.”

“What? Why not?”

Because I’m scared to text her? Fire drill. “Because I don’t want this getting round the department more than it has to.”

Just as Sharon appeared satisfied with Willam’s answer, the car stopped right alongside Courtney, who was standing beside a huge suitcase, a smaller but very full backpack that was looped around its handles, and a Sainsbury’s bag that seemed to contain wellington boots. The small blonde beamed with joy, then rushed around the back to put everything into the boot.

“Jesus. What in fuck has she packed?” Alaska snorted an affectionate laugh as the boot slammed loudly from the back of the car and Courtney clambered into the seat beside Willam.

“Good morning, campers! Ah, I am so excited! This is going to be the best weekend,” she squealed happily, clapping her hands together in excitement.

“I hate to disappoint, Courtney, but I don’t know how exciting it’s going to be for you watching a bunch of speeches that are irrelevant to your line of work and watching me debate the assholes we share a party with.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. We’ve got the diversity disco tomorrow night,” Willam said dryly, her awe at the erratic planning of each conference growing more and more each year.

“Yeah, it’ll be surprisingly fun!” Courtney nodded enthusiastically. “Plus, all the other advisors are usually lovely! Trixie was saying last night that we needed to look out for one of her old friends from HR- Farrah, I’ve met her once or twice but had no idea she was a party member. Apparently she’s one of Sasha Velour’s girls and she’s sort of in at the deep end, so we need to look out for her.”

“Sasha Velour, ugh. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to work with her, she’s so pretentious. Like she could shoot explosive diarrhoea over the entire House of Commons and she’d still think she was the best person in the room,” Willam wrinkled her nose disdainfully. Sasha was one of the party’s many new arrivals after the expenses scandal those six months ago, and in that time Willam hadn’t been convinced by her at all. Her approval ratings seemed to be good, but any interview she did always seemed to make her come across as too hyper-intelligent for anyone else. Hell, she’d managed to out-smug Raja Gemini.

“I know Bianca got on at her for using too many long words in her interviews,” Alaska chipped in thoughtfully.

“I don’t know. From what I’ve seen in cabinet meetings she’s pretty quiet. Keeps herself to herself. She’s quite buddy with some of the other new ministers, but if all I’ve got to worry about this weekend is a party clique then I’m not worried. I survived high school, for Christ’s sake,” Sharon shrugged nonchalantly. “How long do we have in this car?”

Alaska checked her phone. “Two hours and twenty minutes.”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.”

Courtney perked up. “Hey, I know what we can do to pass the time!”

Willam’s face grew scheming. “Oh shit, the game we used to play going up to MediaCity?”

“YES! Party political Guess Who,” Courtney replied, her face equally as mischievous. Turning to Sharon, she explained. “It’s like Guess Who, but with the members of the party.”

“Thanks, Courtney, I’m really glad you explained that to me,” Sharon deadpanned.  

“I’ll start then. I’m thinking of a cabinet minister,” Alaska smiled, giving nothing away.

“It’s Sharon,” Willam said instantly, earning her a weird look from Courtney.

“Fuck you, it’s not Sharon!” Alaska blurted out.

“Why would it be Sharon?” Courtney asked, her face still dumbfounded.

“She’s a fucking cabinet minister, isn’t she?” Willam stuttered, eager to cover up her misdemeanour. “Okay, is she a woman?”

“Yes.”

“What colour hair has she got?” Sharon asked, warming to the game.

“It’s yes or no questions only, you fucking amateur,” Willam joked. “Has she got brown hair?”

“Yep.”

“Well that narrows it down,” Courtney rolled her eyes. “Has she made a lot of media appearances in the last three months?”

Alaska narrowed her eyes in thought. “Not really.”

“Was she at last year’s party conference?”

Alaska snorted a laugh that very obviously gave something away. “Yes.”

“Did she make headlines for bringing a bunch of guys back to her hotel room she found on Tinder and riding each one of them like a pogo stick?” Willam cut in immediately.

“Yes!” Alaska blurted out excitedly.

“Is it our beloved Minister for International Trade, Miss Trinity Taylor?!” Courtney suddenly squealed, excitement getting the better of her. All four girls burst out laughing.

“Fuck you, Court, that was my answer!” Willam laughed, whacking her on the arm despite not knowing what possessed her to. Courtney simply batted her eyelashes at her.

“You snooze, you lose, babe!”

As the others kept laughing, Willam felt her heart freeze up. Did Courtney realise what she’d said? Inwardly, Willam shook her head. Of course she didn’t. It was just an offhand comment, something she obviously wouldn’t read into as much as Willam had and something that Willam was stupid for reading into anyway. Fire drill.

Two hours, twenty minutes and most of the cabinet members and MPs later, Sharon’s driver pulled up outside the Hilton they were to be staying at for the weekend. Courtney had been right; from the outside, at least, it did look good. Each floor was stacked high on top of the other, with chunky balconies outlining each one. It was very business-like but also classy, perfect for the weekend ahead. As Sharon’s driver opened the doors and a Hilton employee rushed to the boot to retrieve their luggage, the four made their way up the marble steps past a few hungover-looking smokers and into the hotel lobby, where Sharon took the lead in checking them all into their respective hotel rooms.

“On behalf of the Hilton, we’d like to wish you a very warm welcome and hope that you enjoy the conference,” the receptionist chirped, smiling as he slid four identical key cards over the countertop. “Your rooms are 505, 511, 512 and 513. We offer 24-hour room service although the front desk does close at midnight. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Sharon tilted her head. “Could I have a bottle of champagne sent up to room 512 at around six o’clock tonight please?”

The receptionist barely stopped himself from raising his eyebrows. “Absolutely, I can fix that for you right away Ms. Needles.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, turning away from the desk. Willam fixed her with a frown.

“A bottle of champagne? Are we in Empire?”

“What? It’s the party conference, let me live. ‘Party’ is right there in the phrase.”

“Right in front of ‘conference’,” Willam muttered under her breath. Scooping up the key cards from the reception desk, she shrugged. “Okay, Alaska, you take 511-”

Alaska gave her a grateful smile that thanked her without any words.

“- I’ll take 505 and Court can have-”

“Oh Christ, don’t put me anywhere near the number thirteen,” Courtney said, her voice a little panicked. Willam had forgot about Courtney’s large amount of superstitions. It was one of the things she found so endearing about her.

“Alright, Stevie Wonder,” Willam rolled her eyes to mask her affection, handing her the other key card. “Should we head up to the welcome address? We’ve still got half an hour but it’d be good to go and see who’s turned up.”

Nodding in agreement, Alaska dashed over to the porter who had stacked their suitcases high on a golden luggage trolley and told him which room they were all to go to. Once she’d ensured the safe arrival of their belongings, the four of them made their way to the lifts and travelled up several floors to a floor free of any hotel rooms; the doors opened to reveal a sort of holding area, with a slightly worn red carpet and cream wallpaper. That being said, Willam could hardly see most of her surroundings on account of the sheer volume of people currently in the room. Her observations were interrupted by a man in a smart suit who she vaguely recognised as one of the interns at Number Ten, handing her a sheet of paper.

“Welcome to the annual party conference!” he smiled, desperation to hopefully be picked up by an MP or a Minister so he could begin his ascent to the top of the political world seeping out of every pore. Willam cast a glance at the sheet, which appeared to be the agenda for the weekend.

“God, there’s entirely too much mingling going on in this room,” Sharon exhaled, her tone a little overwhelmed. “It’s like being in a snake pit.”

“Well look, there’s Latrice over there! She likes you, why don’t you go and chat to her?” Courtney pointed out the large, cheerful Communities and Local Government Minister, who was standing by the table of nibbles and laughing loudly with the girl serving behind it. Pulling a face and shrugging, Sharon straightened her posture and made her way over to Latrice, leaving Alaska, Courtney and Willam still hovering by the lifts. Willam watched as Alaska scanned the room, her eyes suddenly resting on someone and her face jolting in recognition. Faltering a little as she remembered the two girls beside her, Alaska began to slowly move towards who she’d seen.

“I’ve just spotted, um…someone I knew from uni. I’m just going to go catch up- you guys don’t mind, do you?”

Alaska barely gave either of them time to reply with a yes or no as she quickly disappeared into the crush of people. Curiosity piqued, Willam craned her neck in an attempt to see who Alaska had been so focused on, but it was impossible to see where Alaska had gone in the shifting crowd. Letting it drop, Willam became aware that only she and Courtney were left. Her palms began to sweat as she searched for something to say, but Courtney didn’t seem to feel as uncomfortable.

“Look, there’s Nina from Work and Pensions,” she kept her voice low as she subtly pointed to the new minister, who was standing on her own sipping from an orange juice and scanning the room. “Should we go say hi?”

Willam scoffed. “Nah. She won’t know who we are and to add to that, she’s isolated herself by choice. The rumour is that she smoked too much weed while she was at uni so she’s one of the most paranoid people you’ll ever meet. Fierce debater, though.”

Courtney’s eyes grew wide, a little shocked at the revelation. Calming herself and shrugging, she gave Willam a little smile. “Well, we can just keep each other company until the conference starts.”

Willam couldn’t control the way she beamed a smile back at her. Suddenly scrambling for conversation, Willam looked to the floor, a little nervous. “So, any big plans for tonight?”

Courtney bit her lip slightly. “I was thinking of heading to the SkyBar and trying to make some pals. I know there was some talk amongst the advisors for drinks after dinner. Sound good?”

Willam was only a little taken aback at Courtney’s invitation. Stammering a little, she pulled an apologetic face. “Sorry. I’m going to stay in and work on a little more analysis of this taxation policy that’s getting debated tomorrow. Try and conjure up a couple more figures for Sharon to throw in.”

Courtney momentarily looked as if she was injured. “Oh. Okay.”

Willam all but flinched, wondering what she’d done to result in Courtney’s drop in spirits. She was a breath away from trying to save the situation- perhaps saying she’d come for one single drink if only to see that smile reappear on Courtney’s face again- when she was stopped by a cry from within the crowd.

“Courtney?” came a soft, high voice, the words followed by a tiny blonde girl who looked entirely too young to be in politics. She wore a baby pink pencil skirt and suit jacket which were perfectly tailored, and her blonde hair hung in delicate waves framing her face. As she turned her head very slightly, the light hit her cheekbones in an almost blinding fashion, indicating that if politics didn’t work out she could always go into makeup artistry. If Willam hadn’t seen her before, Courtney certainly seemed as if she knew her.

“Farrah! It’s so good to see you, I had no idea you were working for the party until Trixie mentioned it!” she beamed, happiness restored as she gave the girl a quick hug.

“Yeah, well, Sasha scouted me after someone obviously noticed my performance in admin over at human resources. But oh God, Courtney, there’s so much! I feel like I’m constantly behind and everyone is so much more advanced. I mean Naysha- you know Cynthia’s Naysha over at International Development?- rumour is she’s getting considered for an advisory job at number ten,” Farrah reeled off, anxiety riddling her tone. Willam’s ears perked up at the mention of the number ten job, her detached interest which she’d held previously suddenly increasing. Farrah seemed not to realise the impact of her words and was still carrying on. “Meanwhile I’m still over here not really sure how to use the photocopier! Oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t think we’ve met?”

With that, Farrah turned to Willam and warmly stuck a hand out for her to shake. Hesitantly, Willam gave a tight smile and took Farrah’s hand. “I’m Willam. I work with Court, I’m Sharon Needles’ political advisor.”

Farrah’s face sort of sank, the smile that had previously been plastered to it melting away. “Oh God. I should have registered. It’s Dosac you guys work for, right?”

Starting to feel a little like she had the power to ruin everyone’s mood, Willam nodded, her brow furrowed. Farrah pulled a sort of pained expression.

“What is it, Farrah?” Courtney asked, concern written all over her face.

“God. I mean I shouldn’t care, right? It’s just politics after all, I mean that’s what happens, isn’t it? But oh God, you’re both going to have to deal with the fallout and I just can’t help but feel partly responsible because I helped her write it…I mean I proof-read it, but that’s still some responsibility, right?” the small blonde stammered, her face only growing more and more fretful.

“Farrah. Talk to me,” Courtney asked, a frown deep set on her face.

“Jesus, are you crying?” Willam tilted her head, awe momentarily taking the place of concern.

Sniffling a little, Farrah took a deep breath. “Sasha’s speech later today. It’s about politics and the media. Sharon doesn’t really come off well in it.”

Willam gave a deep sigh, bringing both hands up behind her head. This was all she needed to add to her already sky-high stress levels. “What exactly does she say?”

As soon as Farrah opened her mouth, she immediately shut it again as her gaze focussed on someone just over Willam’s shoulder. As Willam turned to acknowledge whoever it was, she came near face-to-face with two girls at the same time. Appearance-wise, they couldn’t have contrasted more; the one on the left had flawless dark skin, with colourful makeup that contrasted her pure white shift dress. Her dreadlocks hung over her shoulders and down her back, the little gold embellishments hanging from the odd dread giving Willam the impression of a sort of Christmas tree. The girl on the right, however, immediately raised Willam’s hackles despite her unthreatening appearance- a huge, candyfloss mane of white-blonde hair sat on her shoulders and only accentuated her pale face, which was painted with just a simple red lip and two huge wings of eyeliner. She wore a plain teal suit dress, which was impeccably ironed and crease-free. Willam looked down at her own slightly crumpled white shirt and black pencil skirt self-consciously. The two girls were recognisable as Shea Coulee and Sasha Velour respectively. Like Sharon, they’d both been new starts all those months ago after the expenses scandal- Shea taking up the post as Minister of Defence and Sasha filling the vacancy for Minister of Justice. They had both been strong presences in parliament, managing to gain considerable traction on policies they’d dreamed up, and their approval ratings were good amongst the public. However, Willam had heard small snippets of rumours that flew around the party indicating that Shea and Sasha were more than simply colleagues. If anything was going on between them, however, they didn’t show it as they stood beside each other, their posture and expressions statuesque.

“Farrah! There you are, we were wondering where you’d managed to get to,” Sasha smiled pleasantly, her voice deep and placid.

“I was just talking to Willam and Courtney. Sharon’s girls,” Farrah stuttered, hasty to conceal that she’d revealed anything to them both just moments ago. Sasha raised a single eyebrow in interest, turning to Shea and sharing a look that seemed to be a mixture of amusement and something else Willam couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Sorry, is there a problem?” Willam couldn’t help but challenge. Sasha, for her part, looked taken aback at Willam’s forthright manner. Her smile was still calm and her tone was even as she spoke.

“Not at all! If anything I think it’s sweet that Sharon still has advisors after her performance so far in her position,” Sasha said, her level tone hiding the bite to her words. Courtney narrowed her eyes.

“She has three advisors, actually, so she’s not exactly short of allies.”

“Tell that to our party, girl,” Shea laughed, throwing her head back. “Three advisors and she still manages to fuck up. That’s kinda bad.”

“I wouldn’t call getting approval from a number of European leaders fucking up,” Willam said, trying her best to keep her tone calm but her flared nostrils potentially giving her away.

“And there was me thinking Sharon’s approval ratings had plummeted. But maybe I have my numbers wrong,” Sasha said lightly, Willam wondering how she managed to make a shrug sarcastically apologetic. “Anyway, they’re letting people in to the welcome address now so I was thinking of getting going, Farrah? But it was lovely to meet you both. If you’d ever like to come spend a day or two over in Justice, you’d be more than welcome!”

Shea gave Sasha an amused smirk. “What she really means is, if you find yourself wanting to work for a department that’s actually going places, her door’s always open.”

Willam’s face scrunched up in distaste as Sasha gave a disapproving look and batted Shea lightly on the arm. “Your mouth is going to get you in mad amounts of trouble one day, I swear.”

As they moved away, Farrah’s apologetic goodbye and a promise to see them both later muffled what Shea replied, but Willam could have sworn it was something about Sasha having never had any complaints about her mouth before. Her eyes were still narrowed and trained on Sasha like a sniper as she spoke.

“I knew there was a reason that stuck-up bitch didn’t sit well with me. What’s the damage control plan?”

Courtney furrowed her brow. “There’s not much we can do except make Sharon aware. We can’t control what Sasha’s going to say, unless we can find something on her?”

Willam raised both eyebrows. “I don’t know if we can get any solid evidence that her and Shea are fucking but surely their interactions are evidence enough.”

Courtney went to speak then stopped, her words getting caught in her throat. To Willam’s curiosity, her expression became briefly antagonised as she paused, then opened her mouth again. “How come you can see what’s going on with them clear as day but you don’t see…”

She sort of trailed off, expression becoming even more pained as something stopped her speech in her tracks. Confused, Willam prompted her. “Don’t see what?”

Courtney sighed and simply shook her head. Before Willam could press her about it any more, they found themselves both being shoved forward a little in the crowd as everyone began to make their way into the conference hall. The flow of the human tide brought Sharon back to them as they shuffled forward towards the doorway like cattle.

“Okay. Issue. Latrice told me there’s a rumour that Sasha’s speech is basically just her dragging me for a considerable amount of time,” Sharon said quietly, her face not giving away her obvious nerves.

“Yeah. We heard it from Farrah, so I don’t think there’s any element of fiction to it,” Courtney grimaced, hating to be the bearer of bad news. Sharon let out a huge breath.

“Fuck. So I’ve got death threats, falling approval ratings, and now my own party hates me.”

“DEATH THREATS?” Courtney all but shouted, causing a few heads to turn her way. Willam cringed, trying her best to shush her and turning to Sharon.

“Thanks, Sharon.”

“She’s an advisor, she deserves to know!”

“Deserves to know what? Did you keep something from me?” Courtney turned to Willam, suddenly accusatory. Willam found herself hoping she was somehow standing above a trapdoor that would miraculously open and lower her into the void.

“Look, I’ll tell you later,” Willam insisted, desperate to placate her. “For now, let’s just hear what the Chancellor of the Exchequer is going to drone on at us about through his fucking nasal passages for the next half hour.”

Willam didn’t miss the way Courtney’s shoulders slumped, her body language completely defeated. She felt a stab of guilt at her heart, wondering if she should regret not telling Courtney. On one hand, she truly did believe that keeping the death threat between the three of them was the best way to handle it. However, something in her gut made her question if part of her had just really wanted to keep her distance from Courtney. Fire drill? I don’t even know anymore.

Willam’s thoughts were interrupted as the three of them were joined by Alaska just as they crossed the boundary of the conference hall and took their seats relatively near the back of the room. Sitting on her chair with a thud, Alaska leaned into Sharon’s ear and whispered something. Sharon’s face became outraged.

“What the fuck, why did everybody else find out about the bloody content of this speech before I did?”

Willam leaned forward to face Alaska. “Who the hell did you find out from?!”

“My friend from high school told me. He-”

Willam cut her off, suddenly confused. “I thought you said it was a friend from uni?”

Alaska paused for a second and blinked, seemingly realising she’d slipped up. “Did I? I meant high school. Anyway, he told me. Everybody seems to have heard, so maybe we need to think of a strategy to deal with the fallout?”

Sharon nodded, her expression determined. She seemed eager to get back on top, and Willam felt a sudden fire and drive to help her get one up on the other members of the party.

For now, though, they had to sit through an old, rich white man loving the sound of his own voice for a considerable length of time. Willam concluded it was just like any other day in parliament.

***

Trying their best to keep their heels quiet against the wooden floor, the four girls snuck into the very back of the hall and sat down gently on four available wooden seats. Willam craned her neck to the very front of the room, where she could see a single long table where the chair sat with Sasha. She seemed at ease and completely nonplussed by the situation, sorting her index cards out calmly while her face gave nothing away. Fishing the weekend’s agenda from her bag, Willam studied the description again.

16.00- 16.30 – Hall 2 – Minister for Justice

Secretary of State Sasha Velour discusses the public’s view of politicians in the media, taking different landmark events from the political calendar and offering her own analysis as to how they in turn affected the approval ratings of the party.

Sighing and shaking her head, Willam could only hope Sharon didn’t get brought up as many times as people seemed to be implying. All day she’d been an absolute jittery, rage-filled nightmare; every speech the four of them had sat in had featured impatient foot-tapping indicating that Sharon’s attention was miles away. She hadn’t touched any food at lunchtime either. Willam just had to thank God that she didn’t have any debates to take part in until tomorrow, as she’d probably just open her mouth and start spewing particles of her own brain. Looking at Sharon now, Willam could see that she was just staring steadfastly straight ahead, her eyes trained on the other young minister. Willam watched Alaska look nervously at her girlfriend, then as she lifted a single hand and made to hold it in Sharon’s. Locking eyes with her, Willam gave Alaska a warning look and, sighing, the other advisor backed down. Willam felt bad, but it was for their own good- the hall was filled with people, and a gesture like that would have been far, far too obvious.

The small murmur in the room quietened to a complete silence as the chair took to the podium and introduced Sasha, Willam’s gaze immediately snapping over to Shea who was sitting on the other side of the room and whose deafening claps soared over the polite applause of the rest of the crowd.

Taking a confident stance at the podium, Sasha smiled pleasantly at the chair.

“First of all I’d like to start by thanking the chairman for such a warm introduction, and by thanking all of you for coming along. I promise I won’t keep you all for long, as I know we have a big night ahead of us!”

WIllam grimaced as the crowd gave a polite chuckle. “Fucking get on with it, then.”

Pausing as she shuffled her index cards, Sasha looked down at the podium, then looked back up at the crowd. “Politics and the media. It’s a relationship that, it could be argued, is incredibly symbiotic. Without politics, would the media have any reason to exist? Without the media, politics, yes, would still exist, but would it be the democratic institution it has come to be today? The media has become one of the most important vehicles through which politics is conveyed, and for one simple reason; public engagement. The media is vastly accessible to the majority of the population through newspapers, television, radio, and more recently, social media.”

“We know what fucking media entails,” Willam hissed under her breath, perhaps a little too loudly as an elderly MP turned around from the row in front and gave her a disapproving look.

“Why is this accessibility so important? Well, it only increases the scrutiny that politicians- us- are put under by the very people that have voted us into our position. The electorate put their trust in us and, through the media, they are given a chance to check up on the people they used their vote on. It’s only reasonable that they expect us to be responsible, respectable members of parliament, after all, we are representing them. We reflect our electorate, and in turn, our electorate reflects us.”

Willam leaned slightly to her left and whispered to Sharon. “She can’t be mentioning you. She’s been rabbiting on for five minutes and all she’s done is use stupid, meaningless phrases.”

Sharon frowned and made to shush her as Sasha carried on.

“Take, for example, the opposition’s leadership contest. Phi Phi O’Hara’s behaviour towards her competitor, Manila Luzon, showed a level of childishness, churlishness, and just downright sexism. How is this reflected in her electorate? Well, we know both Piers Morgan and Katie Hopkins endorsed her campaign…so I shouldn’t need to say too much more to illustrate my point!”

This time, a bubble of genuine laughter burst in the hall, Willam’s expression stony in the face of it all. She didn’t have to turn to look at Sharon to know that her face was the exact same, the tension radiating from her like heat from an oven.

“Now we can laugh at situations like these- except when they’re occurring in our own party. As members, MPs and Ministers, we should constantly be aiming to do our electorate proud. We must always remember that whatever we are doing, it reflects on the whole party. And this is why in every situation we are in, we must remember that our actions have wider consequences than simply ourselves,” Sasha stopped, moved one index card in front of the other and carried on, her tone now one of pride instead of neutrality. “For example, our minister for defence, Shea Coulee. Within her first month of appointment, as I’m sure you’ll all know, Ms. Coulee flew out to Syria to witness the effects that drone strikes from our country had had on innocent communities. Within a month of her arrival back in the UK, her department had drawn up a piece of legislation that should have ensured tighter control and accuracy of drone strikes. We know now that the legislation was blocked by opposing parties- disappointing, yes, but what couldn’t have been predicted was the overwhelming public support as a result. Defence had previously been a department that many wished didn’t exist- an area of the government which was cold and lacked humanity. Ms. Coulee, through media appearances and connection with the public through platforms such as hustings, surgeries and even on Twitter, has managed to bring humanity, dignity and warmth to a position that many were too afraid to fill.”

Willam looked over once again at Shea, whose face was lit up in gratitude at the glowing praise. Just as she was about to roll her eyes, Willam was jolted back into attention by Sasha’s next sentence.

“Dignity is one of the most important qualities to possess in our area of work, and that’s why I was saddened when I watched the events of Sharon Needles’ Daily Mail interview and its aftermath.”

Willam instantly felt every single muscle in her body tense up, the blood coursing through her veins. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Sharon, who had sucked in a tremendous amount of air at once through her nostrils. A few heads turned around in their seats to crane their necks in the direction of Sharon and her advisors. Unable to move in her seat, Willam could only listen to the rest of the speech.

“True, she opened the door to a conversation that really needed to be had- the staggering amount of sexism politicians face from the media every day is vast…however, that’s a speech for another day!” the audience laughed again and Willam had to fight the urge not to pick up her chair and start smashing their moronic heads in. “But the thing that I felt really undermined her point was the way she conveyed her anger. She could have stayed and debated Shangela Wadely. She could have de-railed the interview into a really productive discussion. But instead, she stormed out. She voided the chance of gaining something really positive out of a bad interview. Through sheer luck, Chad Michaels had wanted to highlight the same thing but the party has to wonder- what would have happened if Ms. Michaels had not invited Ms. Needles onto the news? The integrity and public view of the party was thrown into disarray. Would we all be free to walk out of any interview we choose, to refuse to answer questions simply because we didn’t like them? Are we all free to speak how we like on media appearances, to swear as Ms. Needles did on Radio Five Live? As politicians we are always eager to relate to the public, but should our endeavours to be relatable go as far as being brash or being crude?”

“This bitch seems to talk entirely in rhetorical questions,” Willam hissed to nobody in particular, her resentment growing with each line of Sasha’s speech. The Justice minister carried on.

“We know that Ms. Needles’ endeavours have clearly failed, hence the fall in approval ratings next to Phi Phi O’Hara. But is this solely due to the attempt to be relatable? It is likely that it has more to do with the leaking of the Prime Minister’s legacy, which we now know came from her department. Months of work from advisors at number 10 gone completely down the drain, and it should serve as a reminder to us all to tighten the security and our protocol within our departments, to ensure that the lines between civil servants and political workers are made abundantly clear. With this error of judgement-”      

“Fuck this. I’m not staying to have my character assassinated any longer,” Sharon suddenly hissed through gritted teeth, all at once snatching her bag up from the floor and walking out of the row she sat in, not even caring about the looks she drew from at least the three rows of chairs in front. Panicked, Willam looked across at Courtney, whose gaze was fixed on Alaska who was following her girlfriend out of the room as if attached by a string. Making her own decision, Willam jumped up from her chair and made her way to the exit, hearing Courtney’s heels scraping across the wooden floor approximately a second afterwards. Bursting through the double doors, she was grateful to see that Alaska had restrained herself, and was standing not too close to a deflated Sharon who was slumped against the wall. Willam opened her mouth to speak, but Sharon got there first.

“Courtney, could you please phone Jinkx and tell her we need all hands on deck to firefight this. Pre-warn her. Phone Bianca as well and see what the line is. Alaska, could you nip down to reception and ask if they can bump our-” Sharon suddenly coughed very violently in an attempt to cover the mistake Willam had already heard. “- my champagne order forward to five o’clock? I feel as if I need it and about twenty Valium.”

Obediently, Courtney retrieved her phone from her bag and crossed to a quieter end of the corridor to make the phone call. With the other advisor gone, Alaska risked a squeeze of Sharon’s hand and a quick kiss on her cheek before she dashed across into the lift. With just Willam and Sharon left, Sharon tore her hands through her long, ice-grey hair and gave a heart-wrenching sigh. Willam felt for her.

“Hey. It’ll be okay, you know,” Willam braved a small smile which she hoped looked reassuring. “Tomorrow is a new day and you just have to go out there and do what you do best. Lacerate that cotton-wool haired bitch in the debate and then kill your speech. It’s a bump, but you can redeem yourself in less than 24 hours.”

Sharon gave Willam a sort of helpless look, her blue eyes seeming more like pools than their usual ice. “It’s not that I’m worried about. I know I’m good, I know I’ll be fine tomorrow. I just…have I really been as bad as Sasha said? Have I really been that shit for the party?”

Willam’s face instantly contorted in disbelief. “Oh, God, no! Sharon, you’ve been the best thing that’s happened to this party since you arrived. Bitch just needed someone to attack and she’s jealous you’ve had more media appearances than any other minister so she spun everything you’ve done into something bad.”

“I just feel like I’ve let everybody down,” Sharon’s voice was flat, and Willam had to fight the weird urge she had to hug her.

“Listen. Bianca Del Rio scouted you out because she saw something special in you. And when you came to Dosac, everyone else saw it too. Well, Alaska more than most, but anyway,” Willam threw in a joke in an attempt to cheer the minister up and earned herself a small quirk of a smile at the mention of her girlfriend’s name. “And the public saw it more than anyone. Okay, your approval ratings dropped, but whose don’t? It’s just a case of finding your feet again, and you can do that. We all believe in you, Sharon. You’ve not let anyone down.”

Her smile small but still present, Sharon pushed herself off of her leaning position on the wall and stood with a little more poise. “You know, it seems strange, but for someone who started off as my harshest critic I can really always count on you to cheer me up.”

Willam bristled a bit. “Yeah, well. Shit evolves. We all came from fish once.”

Sharon snorted a laugh, then composed herself. “Well, I’m grateful for you anyway.”

Allowing herself a smile, Willam looked over at the corner of the room from where Courtney was making her way back to the two girls.

“Okay, so Jinkx is already on it- calls are coming in already, apparently- but the line Bianca gave them is that this does not affect the validity or credibility of your stance or policies in any way, and the party is not split,” she addressed Sharon, then pulled a face as her tone became concerned. “Bianca is livid at Sasha. She said something about her being so intent on dividing the party into pieces that she’s going to cut up her dead body into similar pieces before she dissolves it in acid to make the murder look like an accident.”

Raising her eyebrows, Willam gave a shrug. “Yeah, that definitely sounds like Bianca to me.”

“Well, ladies, it’s only quarter past four,” Sharon said, the confidence back in her voice. “And we’ve suddenly got a bit of free time on our hands. I suggest we drink until we can only see in greyscale.”

Courtney’s face lit up before Willam made the same feeble excuse she’d given to Courtney before. Really the truth was that the less time she spent around the other advisor the better, the entire day already seeming like some slow, painful water torture with every second she was around Courtney’s perfume, smile or bright eyes.

Excuses and goodbyes made for the evening, Willam found herself in the hotel lift being elevated towards a night of room service, a cold shower, and shitty TV game shows.

It really was the glamour that she loved the most about her job.

***

Willam lay completely awake, her eyes burning as they bore into the darkness that hung above her head. Casting her eye to the only light source in the room, she gave a loud sigh when she saw that the numbers on the digital clock- the only light source in the room- read that it was one in the morning. Exasperated, Willam turned over in the huge double bed the hotel had provided her. There was nothing wrong with it whatsoever; the sheets were soft and the mattress was comfy, but Willam had been kept awake for a couple of reasons. One of which had been the loud moaning and banging of the headboard that had started up just as Willam had originally decided to head to bed, all interspersed with cries of Sharon’s name that made Willam want to just die. Around five minutes into the ordeal, Willam decided that she’d had enough, turned over to face her bedside table and reached for the hotel phone. Punching in the room number of the source of the banging, she sighed with relief when things in the next room fell silent and a clearly irritated Alaska picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought this was the room of Minister for Social Affairs and Citizenship Sharon Needles?” Willam sing-songed down the phone, delighting when she heard Alaska’s voice catch in her throat on the other end of the line. “Don’t shit yourself, bitch. It’s me. But be more fucking subtle. Or fuck more subtly. I’m scarred for life here, I’ve got fucking PTSD. Post traumatic…scissoring disorder.”

Willam could practically hear Alaska rolling her eyes. “You’re a first class cunt, you know that?”

“Night night, sleep tight, hope your sex was shite,” Willam deadpanned, before crashing the phone against the receiver and turning over once more in bed.

That had been the only distraction of the evening that Willam could physically prevent or even interrupt. But for the rest of her attempts at sleep she’d been tortured by her own thoughts. Primarily (or at least that’s what she tell herself) thoughts of Sasha’s speech ran riot in her mind, Willam feeling more and more irritated with each passing minute at the Justice Minister’s audacity to attack Sharon as she had done. The fact that Sharon had had to follow Darienne meant that anything would have been an improvement, a fucking mammal with a head, but Sharon had really taken a failing department and launched it into the stratosphere. She couldn’t understand where Sasha’s remarks had come from, and Willam was convinced that Sharon had been doing a formidable job. She’d been fruitlessly grasping at ways Sharon could get back at her the next day, interspersed with stabs of guilt at the thought of resorting to childish point-scoring. Still, if they weren’t fighting fair then Willam was prepared to be as petty as was allowed.

Every so often these thoughts of irritation would be balanced by stomach-churning thoughts that made Willam’s heart feel constricted and panicky. Today was possibly the most time she’d spent in Courtney’s vicinity for quite a long time. It was easy to avoid her at work because she could just escape to her desk and sit and become engrossed in her own jobs. But today had been exhausting, and every single thing Courtney did managed to make Willam’s heart ache all the more. Why the fuck could she not just get over the stupidity of her feelings? She’d been distancing herself from Courtney for about a month and a half now, but the desired effect- that she’d be over her by now- just wasn’t happening. There was a particularly scary thought that barged into Willam’s brain at around midnight, which appeared in a sort of scary whisper.

If I can’t get over my feelings for her, I just need to tell her about them.

Willam had physically grit her teeth, helplessly pulling her pillow over her ears in an attempt to keep the thoughts away to no avail. How could she even have thought a thing like that? How would that be successful in any way? There was no way Courtney would react well to such a thing, let alone return her feelings. But memories stabbed at her mind, little small things that Courtney probably didn’t think twice about but things that Willam clung to like a comfort blanket. The biggest one was their kiss at Christmastime, but there were other occurrences too- meaningful looks, awkward blushes, cryptic sentences which had been started and then dropped.

Stop this.

Closing her eyes again, Willam attempted to clear her head. One of the very few helpful things her mum taught her when she was little was to count to the highest number she could think of until she got to sleep, so for possibly the millionth time that evening Willam began to go through the number line obediently like a small child.

She’d got to possibly 103 when there was a whisper of a knock at her door, so small that Willam couldn’t be sure she’d heard it until it came again, a little louder but still incredibly hesitant. This was no member of staff. Dread collecting in the pit of her stomach, Willam slid out of bed, padded over to the door then peered through the peephole.

Who she saw on the other side made her truly believe that God absolutely hated her with a passion.

Sighing heavily, Willam opened the door to reveal the one person she didn’t want to see on the other side. Courtney’s stance was apologetic and she didn’t meet Willam’s eyes.

“Hey. You okay?” Willam asked, admitting to herself that there had to be a good reason she was knocking her door at 1am.

“I was up at the bar with Farrah and lost track of time,” she  began, her voice soft. “It was only when I got to my room that I realised I must have dropped my key card somewhere…I knocked on Alaska’s door, but she must be asleep. Reception’s closed…I wouldn’t ask, but…”

Trying her best not to show her visible dread, Willam simply stood aside and held the door wider open, allowing Courtney to enter. She thought briefly about switching the bedside light on or offering her a comfier alternative to sleep in than her current velvet leggings and off-shoulder yellow top, but she didn’t want to run any risk of her kindness being misconstrued as anything more. Settling down under her sheets and feeling Courtney slip under the duvet beside her, it was miles away from their last time sharing a bed. Willam had never felt more tense, terrified of brushing against the other advisor.

“Thanks, Will,” Courtney’s soft voice drifted into the darkness and felt like a stab to Willam’s gut. “You’re a good friend.”

“It’s alright.”

Exhausted, Willam returned to staring into the darkness, resigning herself to the fact that if she wasn’t getting any sleep before then she certainly wouldn’t be getting any now that Courtney was sharing her bed. Her heart ached, hating the fact that she had allowed the other girl to affect her feelings this much and wishing she could return to the old friendship they shared. Anything was better than this.

After an ambiguous amount of time- it could have been hours or minutes- Courtney spoke again.

“Willam?”

The almost-question hung heavy in the air, Willam’s breath completely stopping at the weight her name suddenly held. She couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Courtney, obviously believing the other girl was asleep, gave a little sigh. “Never mind.”

The previously cosy bed suddenly ice cold, Willam felt goosebumps prickle at her skin. They were centimetres from each other but Courtney had never felt so far away, and Willam’s thoughts from earlier hung like a weight in her mind.