#She's done wilder shit to get her Chicken to calm down

[jtl-fics]

Part 28 Unused Memes

[melforbes]

Austerity, II

Part I

It was different when they argued, benign spats about leaving the toilet seat up or dirtying too many dishes or making them both late for work taking up their time, for when they argued, she only got annoyed. After an argument, there would be the inevitable apology, an act of making-up usually in the form of washing every dish or putting the toilet seat down, and a calm and forgettable thanks, but now, Mulder silently watched her across the office as she forked salad into her mouth, her heels off already, piles of paperwork sitting in front of her, no words coming between them. When they argued, she merely got annoyed, but now, he could tell that she felt hurt, her mind tired and her body emotionally drained. Of course, they couldn’t manage a case during the one week he would’ve given anything for a distraction, so now, they moved awkwardly around the basement office together, the walls drawing steadily closer as though they’d slowed down the trash compactor scene in Star Wars. He had turkey on rye for lunch, and she had a salad, a dismal and oh-so-Scully salad that, if it were any other day, he would talk her out of in favor of going to the little cafe two blocks over, a place with open windows and pretty umbrellas lining their outdoor seating. He always liked how she looked in the sun.

“So.” Though he craved a conversation to bring rain to their humid and dingy office, he couldn’t find words. Her brow furrowing with exhaustion, she pushed spinach and cucumbers around on her fork, kept her gaze down. “I was thinking we could head to Shenandoah this weekend. The weather’s supposed to be beautiful. We could pack a picnic, go-”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Of course it’s not, he thought. The last time we went on a wilderness trip, you had to borrow my boots from the fifth grade, and I don’t want to hear another earful about how I should’ve thrown those out ages ago. And I’m not going to throw them out, not until you finally buy a pair of your own.

Sighing, he leaned back in her usual chair - she’d taken to the desk as though it were her natural place, and of course, he would never challenge her about that - and watched as she took another bite, chewed slowly. The windows above cast her in warm daylight, and he could remember back when she’d eaten that abomination of an ice cream in front of him, all insistent that they should go outside and carpe diem. Back then, he'd been romantic, as romantic as paying a kid to hurdle baseballs toward the two of them for an evening could’ve ever made him. She’d even had the heart to wait until they were naked in bed together many months later to tell him that she’d played softball all throughout her childhood and knew very well how to swing a bat. With vivid clearness, he could remember the way she’d said it, a sexed-up laugh on her lips as she’d looked at him with pure light in her eyes. There is nothing more beautiful, he figured, than a woman laughing in bed.

“Well,” he said, then thought through every other place he could take her to, everywhere from the Washington monument to the reflecting pool to the Johns Hopkins campus, “we could-”

“I’m really looking to spend the weekend alone.”

In her voice, he could hear finality, a closing remark; this was where she wanted the conversation - or, really, any and all conversation - to end.

“Okay,” he said, not listening, never listening. “What about next Monday? Takeout and a-”

“Mulder.” Finally, she looked up at him. “I could really use some space right now.”

Yeah, he thought, but it’s just us two in the basement, and unless someone gets killed by the yeti within the next ten minutes, we’re chained to this desk until Friday afternoon.

Shit.

The desk.

Suddenly, he had an idea.

“Okay,” he said, the topic dismissed, his mind distracting him with more possibilities than he could count. Suddenly, the room opened up, fresh air coming in, and when her gaze turned incredulous, he didn’t even mind.

“Okay,” she echoed uncomfortably, uneasy with how readily he accepted such a proposition. 

After a pause, she went back to her salad, but his sandwich was left unattended while he lost himself in thought, his mind going to friends and business cards and whatever an allen wrench was. Though he didn’t know how to make everything up to her, he at least knew where to start.

Aerating a glass of wine in her hand, Scully crossed her legs as she sat on Ellen’s couch, her friend pouring herself a liberal helping of the drink.

“So he just doesn’t show,” Ellen said as she came over to the couch, sat down next to Scully; her tone was half incredulous, half expectant. “I mean, you said he’s not religious.”

Closing her eyes in annoyance, Scully gave, “So not my point.”

She considered this outing to be both damage control and reparation; if Mulder were to stop by her place on this Friday night, she wouldn’t be home, and plus, she hadn’t seen Ellen - or had a steady female friend - in years, so a visit was overdue. After Scully had gotten out of work, she’d gone home to change into something more casual and comfortable, then headed over to Ellen’s in time for the kids to show her their art projects from school and then insist that she join them for paint-by-numbers. With dinner over - Ellen had a way with roast chicken, and after a playful pat to Scully’s ass, her friend had dumped an extra-large helping of mashed potatoes onto her plate claiming that Scully needed it - and with the kids in bed, they could finally go on adult time, the pinot noir uncorked and the guest room full of fresh linens. It had been a long time since Scully had last sipped wine with the intention of getting drunk.

“I know, I know,” Ellen said, then took a sip from her glass. “It’s just that you acted like this guy was an incompatible workaholic - and, in your words, a jerk - and then he goes and does something like this, and poor Maggie, right, all prepared with no guest showing? But you’re still surprised.”

Scully huffed a breath, her eyes keen on the wine in her glass. Thinking back to undergraduate, she tried to remember if her limit had been two or three drinks, if wine was eight ounces per glass or if she was confusing it with beer.

“I’m just saying,” Ellen insisted, her tone starting to back off, “that you can’t put faith in the faithless, Dana.”

Ellen’s living room was dark save for soft lamplight, the couch plush and straight from a HomeGoods catalog, pictures from family vacations framed on the walls and little tchotchkes littering the matching oak furniture. With a pale blue carpet, the place looked like a gaudy homemaker’s attempt to recreate the beach, but still, Scully eyed the pictures of the kids building sandcastles, her gaze keen on the dog toys scattered on the floor. Though she could ridicule it all, she still wished her own home weren’t so barren, that she had more than a few polaroids and some newspaper clippings to symbolize the woman she’d become. 

She must’ve been quiet for a while, all lost in her thoughts, for Ellen tilted her head toward Scully, gave a near-pitying look.

“So you like him that much,” she gave knowingly.

“I don’t know,” Scully spat, nearly splashing wine onto the couch. “I don’t know if it’s him or...the idea of him. Or if I’m in for the good parts but so out for the bad ones.”

“Has he done things like this before?”

“Yes.” She paused. “To a degree.”

“To a degree,” Ellen repeated.

Rolling her eyes, Scully gave, “I know he’s impulsive, and I know that he doesn’t do well with family or religion. When I asked, I hadn’t expected him to say yes, but he did, and that’s what’s getting to me, Ell. For some things, I know he won’t show up, and I’ve made peace with that, but he’s never...I’ve always been able to trust him.”

“And he broke that trust,” Ellen completed.

“Yes,” Scully forced. “He did.”

“Do you think he’d do it again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, take a guess.”

“I don’t know!” she insisted. “It’s not like I can test a hypothesis by asking him to be with my family on the next Catholic holiday, Ell. It’s not like we have one every week.”

“Other than church,” Ellen offered. “Pose the invite again, this time in a more casual way. See if he’ll go.”

Looking down at her lap, Scully mumbled, “Mulder really isn’t into religion.”

“But if he’s into you, and if he knows he’s done wrong by you, then he’s going to overlook that.”

“I don’t want him to do something that makes him uncomfortable. I don’t want to coerce him into being under the scrutinizing eye of every Catholic who knows me.”

“Well, keep the idea on the backburner just in case.” Ellen eyed Scully’s nearly-empty glass. “More?”

“Yes, please,” Scully gave with a tight-lipped smile.

That guest room kept sounding more and more appealing. 

It wasn’t truly a Monday unless she locked in long before Mulder did. 

As she walked out of the empty elevator and headed toward the office, rain poured down outside, her umbrella at her hip and her hair beginning to frizz. She hated days like this one, all warm and humid and uncomfortable; she figured rain was for days when the earth needed cooling redemption, not for days when temperatures were sweaty and sticky. Beer weather, her father used to call days like these, for you’d only ever cool off during them by sipping a crisp, dark beer. 

When she came to the office’s door, she took out her keys but hesitated before putting them into the lock, her gaze centered on a new plague above his older one.

DANA SCULLY, M.D.

Turning her key and pressing the door open, she stopped quickly, her feet stuck as she stared at the new arrangement of the office. Though most everything was in its original place, the posters, pictures, and filing cabinets unmoved, his desk had been turned so that it made an L-shape with a new desk, one made of the same color wood as the original was. Of course, the original desk still held his files and paperwork, the lamps all in their same spots, but the new one, as she saw when she approached it, held her printed reports from the autopsy she’d done a few weeks beforehand; when she opened its high-quality drawers, she found packs of her favorite pens, the lotion she used to keep in the top drawer of the original desk, a knot of hair bands. Its top was adorned with a plague matching the new one on the door. 

Softly, she smiled.

[illyrian-of-themyscira]

A Court of Blood and Courage

A scream tears through me as I bolt upright from the bed.  I scrub my hands furiously on the silken quilt, blood seemed to stain them.  The youngling’s blood.  I let out a frustrated scream when the blood won’t leave me.  Strong arms catch me  from hurting myself and I flinch away from Drevon only to find concerned golden eyes watching me.  I gasp and fall back against the headboard, fear searing through me.  Then the memories flood back into my head of where I was and how I got there.  I tuck my chin, and wrap my wings around me in a safe cocoon.

“Hey, is that anyway to treat the male who saved you?”

“Sorry.” I stutter, eyes downcast.  My wings retreat to tuck tight against my body.

“What’s your name?”

“Carina.” I murmur.

“Carina? A star? Fitting. My fallen star.”  I purse my lips at being called his but I say nothing.  “Carina, my dear, how did you come to be crashing onto my balcony?”

“I…” I freeze and scrunch my nose up, unsure what I should say.

“You’re adorable, now please tell me.��

“I…I was being trained as a warrior when…my commander…he…there…”

“Stop, take a breath and start over from the beginning.”  I look up at him with fear written across my face.  “You needn’t fear me.  I don’t bite.”  Then he gives me a grin.  “Unless you beg me to.”  I blush and glance away then let out a long sigh before telling him everything.  From Cyrus to Drevon to the general to the youngling.  When I finish talking about the youngling, I hug my knees to my chest as tears stream down my cheeks.    

“Miss Carina, it looks like you are in quite the situation and Rhysand is a good male.  He will keep you safe.”  I look up at him with alarm and start shaking my head, no.  My fingers dig into my clothes as I start to shake all over, fear running up and down my spine.

“He’ll take me back.  I can’t go back. I can’t go back! They will take my wings! They will force me to breed! I can’t! I can't, I can't, I can't!” I cry.  The High Lord of the day Court grips my arms hard as Cyrus had done many times.  I skitter away from him until I hit the wall.

“What did those monsters do to you?”  His murmur is velvet against my skin but mistrust is palpable in the air.  “You needn’t worry. I won’t tell your High Lord.  Although I will most likely get in trouble.  I won’t let them take you.”  I don’t move as I shake, not looking at him.  The High Lord let’s out a sigh as he walks out the door.  Moments later, two females walk in.  One is slight with chocolate skin, hair braided down her back.  The other has caramel skin with her hair shaved close to her skull.  Both beyond beautiful in matching copper dresses.

“I am Thea.” the braided hair female says.  “This is Aileen.” She gestures to the other female.

“You found me.” I murmur. They nod in acknowledgement.  Thea holds her hand out to me, but I don’t take it.

“We have the bath waiting.  The High Lord will have food ready for you when you are done.”  I nod and stand, scooting around the two females.  The door clicks shut as I walk into the marble bathroom.  I don’t look too closely at anything as I chuck my soiled clothes onto the ground before stepping into the hot bath with a hiss.  My wings make it quite hard to fit into the tub so I let them drape to the floor.  I close my eyes and slided down till my face is beneath the water.  The thought of how easy it would be to just breath in the water.  End it all.  Then they would win and I could not have it.  With a great gasping breath, I come up for air, pushing my hair from my face.  The knowledge that if I went back to my camp then I would be killed filled me with dread.  A whimper escaped from my throat but I shook it off, I had to be strong.  That started out with facing the High Lord and not running away like a coward.  Cauldron damn the Illyrians who treat the females like shit and cause someone like me to bow down to any male in fear.  I hated them.  I hated myself.  

PART SIX

Thea and Aileen made short work of my strawberry blonde locks, tugging it up into a braided crown atop my head.  Aileen offered me a dusty rose dress, but I sneer at them.

“Hell no, I want pants.”  Both females’ eyebrows shoot up at my strong words.  They pause and look at each other then Aileen leaves to come back with pants and a tunic.  The tunic is a soft, creamy orange with dark orange stitching.  Its ornate and far too fine as it clings to me.  My reflection sneers at the way you can see every inch of my body, as if I wasn’t wearing anything.  The pants clung to me in a similar fashion but before I could request another outfit, the two females were gone.  I tugged at the shirt, trying to make myself look less naked.  My bare feet make no noise as I walk out my door to look for a way to find food.  Wings tucked in tight, I start to walk down the corridor when the smell of delicious food fills my nose.  I follow it all the way to a grand door made of gold and bronze.  Frowning up at the extravagance, I open the door to find a long table laden with food of all kinds.  At least four different types of meats, fruits and vegetables I didn’t even recognize.  My mouth watered, I only had bland stew and bread my whole life in the camp.  This could feed my whole camp for a day.  I put the thought out of my head, they didn’t deserve this.  My eyes went to Helion who was watching me wearily, the male beside him was eyeing me with a smirk.  He was darker skinned than Helion with black hair artfully tousled atop his head.  This male wore a deep red tunic…dress…thing.  I wasn’t sure what they wore but it draped from his right shoulder to his ribs.  Showing off his muscled body as well as my own attire showed off my body.  With an awkward cough, I took the empty seat to Helion’s right.  The chair scraped across the marble floor in a way that hurt my ears.

Once seated, I try to situate my wings as best I can.  It's awkward but I figure it out.  Both males eye me and I try not to shrink away from them.  My eyes went downcast though, I could not look them in the eye.

“so, Carina, is it?”  I give a confirming nod to the male, who I assume is Helion’s second.  “How do you like the day court so far?”  I frown at my hands.

“Your clothes are a bit…tight.”  Both males give hearty laughs at my words.  I frown down at my hands, unable to look at them.

"Zavian, don’t tease.  She is unused to males like us.” Helion says.  I look to the high lord with grateful eyes.

“What kind of males is she used too?”

“Illyrian males.” I say.

“I confess I do not know much about Illyrians.” Zavian says.  My eyes snap up to Zavian.

“Who are you?”

“Carina, this is Zavian.  My second.”

“Illyrians are a warrior race in the Night Court.  Bred to kill.” I spit.  “Males are prized and sent through vigorous training to break them and remake them.  Females’ wings are clipped once they have their first bleeding then sold off for breeding.”

“Did you run?  So you wouldn’t have to breed?”

“Yes and no.  I ran because I was a dead woman.  I ran because I was the only female willing to be a warrior.”

“I-”

“Zavian, don’t push her.”

“Apologies, my lady.” Zavian says.  I snort at this.

“I am no lady.  I am some nameless, faceless soldier.”  When I finally look up to the golden eyes of the High Lord, I lose all confidence and grab some food.  The first bite of chicken caused a moan to come from my lips.  I had never tasted such food before.  Losing all sense of decency, I stuff my face with food.  I was a warrior and I had a large appetite.  Glancing up, I saw Zavian watching me with his jaw hung open.  I slow my pace and look at the High Lord who is grinning at me.  “What?”

“I have never seen someone eat so much.” Zavian says.  Biting my lip, I pull away from my food.  “No, eat as much as you want.  It’s a turn on.”

“Turn on what?”  Zavian and Helion chuckle at me.

“I shall teach her later.” Helion grins.

“Hands on?”  Zavian’s grin makes me blush and I don’t even know why.

“I think I need to sleep.” I say. I bolt away from the males to my room to avoid talking.  The door slams shut behind me as I take a deep breath.  But I still can’t calm down. I need to move, to fight.  Opening the door, I rush down the corridors.  Not seeing anything I start running, only to almost crash into a female who is carrying laundry.

“So sorry!  Can you tell me where the training room is?”  She gave me some directions and I run as fast as I can.  Sliding the door open I grab the nearest mace and start attacking a target.  When I begin, there is finesse to my fighting.  A technique to the way my mace landed upon the target but the more I hit, the more I saw Drevon and Cyrus as the target.  The harder I hit, the wilder I became before a scream tears through my throat.  The target splits in half at my last blow and I collapse to the ground, wings drooping.

“Deep breaths.” I murmur.  Shoulders hunched, I catch my breath then stand to put the mace away. But I decide not to and take it with me back to my room.  The mace fit snuggling by my bed and safe from view.  Feeling a bit safer, I flop down on my bed with a groan.      

written by me

edited by @crazy-fangirl16

I might put this up on Wattpad but I am not sure. Thoughts?