#muse deserted me but I actually mostly like what I have

[estrellami-1]

Never Forgot

Based on this post.

Steve knew something was wrong when she ran out of the room, choking back tears.

He felt bad, felt like there was something missing, but he didn’t remember her. Thinking about it, he realized he didn’t really remember anything.

“Robin?” Dustin asked when she all but ran out of the hospital room.

She stifled a sob and collapsed onto the bench next to him, holding a hand over her mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Dustin, he… he doesn’t remember me.”

Dustin took a deep breath and very carefully did not freak out. “Okay. You stay here, I’ll go talk to him. See if we can shake it loose or something.” He rolled his eyes at the look she gave him. “Not literally, Buckley, jeez. Keep your pants on.”

He squared his shoulders and walked into the hospital room. Steve looked fine, if tired—hospital lighting never did anyone any favors—but the absent smile he sent Dustin spoke volumes. “Hi,” he said quietly, stilted in a way he never was anymore. Not with Dustin. “Um, can you apologize to her for me? She seemed really upset and I’m not sure what I did but I think it’s my fault.”

Dustin sighed and sat in the chair by Steve’s hospital bed. “You really don’t remember her, huh.” It wasn’t a question, so Steve didn’t answer. “And I’m guessing you don’t remember me, either?”

Steve picked at the blanket on his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus fuck,” Dustin whispered, screwing his eyes shut. “Don’t apologize, Jesus, it’s not your fault. It just… sucks.”

Steve snorted. “Imagine waking up and only remembering one person.”

Dustin looked up at him sharply. “One person?”

Steve shrugged. “Guess I’d be a pretty shitty boyfriend if I didn’t, yeah.”

“Boyfriend?” Dustin blinked. “Steve, you’re not dating anyone.”

Steve frowned. “I am. Maybe you don’t know him? Eddie? Eddie Munson?”

“Eddie- Christ, Steve, of course I know Eddie, and you two aren’t dating. You’re, like, as straight as they come.”

“No- no, I am, I’m dating him, I’m- we’re-”

“Whoa, okay, hold up, calm down,” Dustin said, holding his hands out. “It’s fine, dude, okay, we’ll figure it out later but I don’t think you should be stressing this hard after just waking up.”

Steve hummed. “What, uh. What actually happened to me?”

Dustin sighed. “The doctors said your body essentially performed a hard reset. You’ve been running on fumes for too long. You collapsed from sheer exhaustion. At least you didn’t hit your head this time, though maybe that would’ve prevented you from losing your memory, so who fuckin’ knows.”

“Language,” Steve chided, then blinked when Dustin looked at him excitedly. “I don’t know where that came from.”

Dustin just laughed. It was only a little forced. “You’re just incapable of not being a mom.”

——————————

Robin went back in next, lightly tapping Dustin’s shoulder as she passed him in the doorway. He shook his head, and her heart sank. “He-” Dustin shook his head, bit his lip. “He thinks he and Eddie are dating. Eddie’s the only person he remembers.”

Robin gave him a little half-smile. “He’s had a crush on Eddie for a while. I didn’t realize it was this bad, but.” She shrugged. “I’ll talk to him. You call everyone else?”

“Yeah.”

She took a deep breath and walked into the room. “So,” she started. “You really don’t remember?”

Steve shook his head, eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry. I wish I did.”

“Dustin said you remember one person?”

“Mhm. Eddie.”

“Right. And you and Eddie? What are you?”

Steve frowned even deeper. “Boyfriends. If we’re this close, shouldn’t you know that?”

Robin shrugged. “I’d like to think so. That’s why Dustin and I aren’t convinced you are dating. Maybe your memories are just… really vivid daydreams.”

“You really think so?”

Robin sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to think, Steve. Hell, I didn’t even know how bad it was until you collapsed. Some soulmate I am.”

“With a capital P,” Steve said, holding up a hand before Robin could say anything. “Sometimes certain memories are triggered. It’s… like a puzzle piece slotting into place. But I’ve got about a million more pieces missing. I can’t see what that specific piece connects to.”

Robin hums. “Okay. So you remember Eddie. And if I say Hellfire..?” Steve just frowned. “Or… Metallica?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, I know that one.”

“Did you know that before I said it?”

Steve nodded. “Hellfire’s related to Eddie?”

Robin chuckled. “You could say that.”

“What is it?”

She laughed again. “I think I’ll let your boyfriend explain that one.”

“Even though you don’t believe we’re dating.”

Robin spread her hands. “Soulmates with a capital P, Steve. I can’t think of any reason you wouldn’t at least tell me. Especially since you know—err, knew—I’m a lesbian.”

Steve frowned. “Maybe Eddie didn’t want to? Does he know?”

“Yup.”

“Oh.” He frowned again. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “I’m not asking you to have all the answers. Especially now. Just… think about it, yeah?”

“I will,” he promised. “Um. Are you okay?”

“Jesus, Steve.” Robin laughed. It was only mostly hysterical. “Of course you’d still be thinking about everyone else. I’m fine. Or- I will be. You just take care of yourself, dingus.”

He chuckled. “Will do, Robbie.”

She sighed. “Another puzzle piece?” He nodded. “Alright. I’m gonna go track down Dustin and see where he’s at with all the other ankle-biters.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” She lingered for a half-second, then sighed again and walked out.

——————————

He was released two days later. Drove himself home, Robin in the passenger seat and Dustin in the back row. Dustin quizzed him about the rest of the Party the whole way home, made sure Steve knew their names forwards, backwards and upside down, as well as what everyone was like. “Max is kickass,” he said. “Like, she’ll absolutely smile in your face as she knees you in the balls. And it’s the kinda smile that strikes fear into a man. She’s awesome. And-”

“Okay,” Steve said, amused. He didn’t know how Dustin could go that long without a breath. “I’ll know what you’re talking about as soon as we get out of the car and get inside, right?”

Dustin yelped when he looked up to see them parked before scrambling out the door and running inside.

Steve grinned at Robin, who grinned back, before they made their way inside, albeit at a slower pace than Dustin had.

Steve vaguely recognized everybody, but his attention focused in on a very specific person. “Eds.”

Eddie smiled, small and soft and sweet, one of Steve’s favorites. “Heya, Stevie.”

Suddenly he couldn’t help himself. He had to be with Eddie, right then, it couldn’t wait, so he didn’t. Practically flung himself at Eddie, like he knew Eddie would catch him (he did). Attaches his mouth to Eddie’s, a silent promise, I never forgot you, flowing between them.

When they pulled back, Eddie stared at him like he’d hung the fucking sun. “You remember?” Eddie asked in a whisper.

“Never forgot,” Steve promised, at the same volume.

“What. The actual. Fuck,” Robin said. Eddie and Steve froze as they turned to face her and the rest of the Party, who were all staring with the same expression.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered. “We forgot to tell Robin.”

[meryldian]

★ Dating 2023!Bill Kaulitz ★ (Fluff overload)

AN: Oh boy, I never thought I’d actually post some of my hcs, let’s see how this goes. I’m typing this half-asleep on my phone so I apologize for any grammatical or technical mistake, please let me know if anything!!

Let’s start with setting something straight, Bill does not fall for someone easily nor does he like to sleep around, as he’s said himself. If he’s actually decided on dating you it is a synonym for “I can see an entire future with you and I have probably thought of marriage plans”

No matter how you guys met; whether it was through mutual friends, by chance or were childhood friends, it would take you weeks, months or even years of forming a strong bond before even considering the first date.

Bill has said many times that he believes in love at first sight and probably still does, but fame and people have definitely left him with some major trust issues.

Won’t give you a house key or ask you to move in till he’s completely certain that you’re fully trust-worhy, but he loves having you over with him.

Now that you guys are together, he is the sweetest person on earth, will worship you like you’re a divine creature that landed on earth. He would worship the ground you walk on if he could.

Never-ending honeymoon stage kind of relationship not going to lie-

Will take you out to theme parks, rent out movie theatres, take you on hikes and long walks on a deserted beach.

Don’t be surprised if you ever wake up to a screaming Bill, all hyped because he decided that you’re spending your weekend at Disney.

He is so cheesy but it’s so sweet to see. He’s at a point in his life that he just wants to love and be loved. Kisses on the cheek, opening doors for you, pushing your chair at restaurants. He’s a gentleman.

Till it applies to his fashion. You ARE doomed to help him out of his outfit when he decides to be a bit more daring. Just like he does with Georg and Tom he will do it with you. “y/n you know the drill. When my assistant is not around you’re my assistant now help me out of these shoes”

Speaking of shoes, he is almost 2 meters (and sometimes more) when he wears his platforms and he absolutely loves towering over you. Bill loves to see you reach for a kiss. He will also walk behind you and ruffle your hair to annoy you.

This man is so whipped. He can gush about you for hours on end in interviews, his socials or his podcast.

He would also expose you a lot on Kaulitz Hills because that’s what he does.

He loves physical touch. When you’re walking in downtown LA he will always have an arm wrapped around your shoulders or waist, holding your hand or linking your pinkies.

He has the sneakiest of hands, it’s even worse than Tom. Bill always finds a way to have hand under your shirt or skirt if you happen to wear them. He can’t help it, he loves to feel your skin on his hands.

Back Hugs !!!

You will become his muse. He loves to dress you up however he pleases, you just look so good in everything! Bill will spend so much cash on designer sets to match with you. Only the best for his beloved.

He mostly calls you by your name in public but behind closed doors he would address you by the sweetest names like “My love, Darling/liebling, Pumpkin”

You guys are always out to eat

And at coffee shops

You’re each other’s personal photographers. Plus he absolutely adores to show you off on his instagram

I can see him as the type to start a vlogging channel just to show off how in love and happy he is with you.

Prepare yourself mentally to be woken up early to walk the dogs and drink sour green juice. Bill used to be a tremendous sleeper when he was young but those days are way behind.

When you wake up together, it is the best. He tends to wake up first and will stay in bed just admiring how beautiful you are. Tracing your features with his fingers. He wants to memorize every inch of your skin.

If you take too long though, he will get up and go prepare breakfast. Yes it includes celery juice.

You guys are always hanging with Tom & Heidi! You get into the craziest adventures

Heidi would love you so much, so would her kids. You and Bill are the cool relatives.

[clangenrising]

Month 14 - Newleaf

“The desert?” Oddstripe stopped halfway through scoring his claws down the stones framing the entrance to the healers’ den to look at Scorchplume, unsure if he had heard her question properly. 

The ginger she-cat cocked her head and smiled. “Yes, you came from out east, didn’t you?” 

“Oh,” he melted out of his backbend into a more natural sitting position, “why, yes, I did.” 

“I thought so,” purred Scorchplume sweetly. He smiled back. He noticed the tired lines under her eyes had started to disappear. It seemed she was finally getting proper sleep. 

“I was wondering if you could tell me about it,” she continued. “I’m considering traveling that way and I’d love to know what I should look out for.” 

“Alright,” he shrugged, happy to be helpful. “Um, I’m not sure where to start though.” 

“Start with the basics,” she said, swishing her tail over her paws as she settled down. “I’ve heard they’re hard to survive in, is that true?” 

“They can be,” he said, thinking back. “You have to stay out of the heat during midday but you need to get into a burrow at night to keep yourself warm or you’ll freeze, especially during leafbare.”

“Really,” Scorchplume mused. 

“Oh, yes,” he nodded. “It’s sweltering in the day and shivering at night. Most animals come out around dawn and dusk so you’ll want to hunt then but also be careful for things like hawks and coyotes.” He shuddered at the thought of those massive, cackling things. He’d been lucky enough never to see one up close but their laughter was not something he could easily forget. 

“Coyotes?” Scorchplume’s eyes flickered over his movement. “Are they hard to avoid?” 

“Um,” Oddstripe frowned in thought. “Not terribly? If you’re hunting and you run into one, just leave the food and it won’t bother chasing you most of the time. I’m sorry, I’m not very familiar with them. They seemed to stay away from where I lived for some reason.” 

“Interesting.” Scorchplume’s eyes glittered coldly in thought. 

“I’d worry more about snakes, honestly. They like to hide in cool places so you have to be careful not to run into them when getting out of the heat.” 

“It sounds terribly dangerous out there,” frowned Scorchplume. “Why didn’t you leave sooner? Was there something dangerous on the other side?” 

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” laughed Oddstripe, flapping one of his paws idly. “I grew up there. It felt like home. When my mama disappeared it felt wrong to leave the den empty - it was such a nice spot after all - so I stayed. There were a few cats in the area, I tried to get to know them but they didn’t seem all too keen to get to know me. Until Stranger showed up, of course.”

“Stranger?” Scorchplume cut in, her voice edged with interest.

“Oh, yes!” Oddstripe brightened. “Stranger! She taught me everything I know about healing in exchange for a place to stay and help finding food. She’s actually how I learned about RisingClan! I guess she was from here?” 

Scorchplume nodded politely. “Yes, I remember hearing that. Redleaf, they said she was called.” 

“Yeah, that’s what Sagetooth said. She never gave me her name, though,” Oddstripe said, remembering her fondly, “not in the whole time we knew each other. So I just called her Stranger. She seemed to like it. Anyway, after she became my teacher cats stopped by more often to get help. Mostly we treated heat stroke and coughs. It was lovely. I hope she’s alright. I think she’s still there, in mama’s old burrow.” 

“Do you know what’s on the other side of the desert?” asked Scorchplume and Oddstripe pursed his lips in embarrassment. Of course, she was here for information, not to hear him ramble on about a cat she would never meet. 

“Not first hand,” he said, ears wilting. “The mountains run all along the north side. I think there’s a forest if you go far enough east but I’ve never seen it.”

“Mm,” hummed Scorchplume. “Thank you, Oddstripe. I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me.” 

“Of course!” he purred. “Let me know if you have any other questions.”

She nodded and excused herself, leaving him alone once more. He sighed a little and flexed his claws against the earth. Sometimes it felt like people only ever spoke with him when they needed a problem solved. He wondered what other people had that he didn’t. Even his kits were visiting less and less as they prepared to become warriors. It made him ache.

He finished scratching his claws across the stone, abandoning a few shed claws in the dust, and headed back inside the den to look at the stores again and see if anything needed replacing. After a brief examination, he decided they could probably do with some more borage and started out of the den. 

“Ah!” jumped Aldertail who had been heading the other way. “Sorry!” 

“It’s alright,” he smiled, stepping back to give her space. “What can I help you with? Are your legs bothering you?” Aldertail looked down at them and he watched her use all of her mental strength not to lick them. He kicked himself for saying anything. 

“No, they’re fine,” she said. “I was just coming to see what you were doing. It’s fine if you’re busy, I can-”

“No, no, I’m not too busy,” he said. “I was just going to look for some borage.” 

“Oh, okay,” she nodded, chewing her lip. “Um, could I come with you?”

“Oh!” he blinked in surprise. “Of course! I’d love to have you along!” 

“Thank you,” Aldertail smiled, visibly letting her shoulders relax a little. 

“Don’t mention it,” he purred, rubbing his cheek on hers as he passed her. “Come on, I’ll show you where the best patches grow.”

“Okay,” she purred shyly and scampered to catch up with him.

Oddstripe smiled to himself and led the way out of camp, glad for her company. He could always count on Aldertail to be there to brighten his day. He shook himself out, deciding to leave the moody thoughts in the past where they belonged. Today was bright and sunny and he had great company. What more could a cat ask for?

[leighsartworks216]

Of Cowboys, Cave Ins, and Crushes

Illinois x gn!reader

Requested by @captain-wordy-and-nerdy:

"*Gallops in on a horse* Good morrow fair wordsmith! I bring you a request from the council. *Unfurls an unnecessarily long scroll* The council hereby requests a story about our favorite adventurer Illinois meeting a GN reader, and flirting with them nonetheless. *Rolls scroll up* Many thanks for your work *Rides away*"

I NEED to do ISWM 2 but I should also maybe do my work for today..... hm...

Warnings: being trapped in a small area, death, the us from AHWM is canonically dead just don't think too hard about it, minor injuries that are not described but that are tenderly taken care of by one (1) cowboy

Word Count: 1686

Masterlist

When you heard about a priceless Egyptian artifact stored away in some god awful temple buried deep in the Sahara Desert, you didn't really expect to find yourself trapped inside. Alone. Well, you weren't originally alone. The poor guy that drove you there was speared into the wall somewhere back toward the entrance.

The room you were trapped in was mostly rock. Paved stones lined the path beneath you, while heavy boulders blocked you in. There was no going back, or forward, as far as you could tell.

You'd just about given up and decided to succumb to your slow death when you heard shouting.

“Hello?” the voice called. It was male, and smooth like chocolate. “Anybody in there?”

“Yes!” you called back. At least now, with someone else, you had a small chance of getting out. “I took a wrong step and the walls caved in.”

He chuckled. It was muffled by the rocks between you. “I can see that.”

You rolled your eyes at the teasing in his voice. You'd dealt with enough people patronizing you about this site alone - you were over it. No matter what you tried explaining to the locals, nobody believed you. Or worse, they didn’t believe you would be able to get in, get the artifact, and get out alive. You would love nothing more than to prove them wrong.

“Know any way of getting me out? Instead of, you know, laughing at my expense?”

He hummed. You heard his feet shuffling over the loose dirt on his side. He was probably appraising the situation. “Is it closed on the other side?”

You glanced back, as though the exit had magically opened up since you had your back to it. “Yup. No sign of light coming in either. I've only got enough light for about two hours.”

More shuffling. You thought you may have heard a sigh, too. “Alright. Just stay here, try to see if there’s any writing on the walls. I'll see if there’s anything in my car.”

“Wait!” His retreating footsteps stopped and got closer once again. “What's your name?”

“Illinois. And yours?”

“Y/N.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“It'd be better without the block-in.”

He chuckled again, and left back the way he came. You immediately missed the company.

You grabbed your flashlight and began roaming the perimeter of the dark room. Your hand ran over the wall to feel for any carvings or indentations your eyes might miss. There was nothing at eye level as far as you could tell. You stood back toward the middle and tried to see if there was anything higher up. You could just barely see some messy writing way up there.

“Find anything?” Illinois called.

You made your way back over to the wall so you wouldn’t have to shout as loud. “There’s some writing, but it’s too high for me to see. It looks like hieroglyphics, if I had to guess.”

“Ah, so the Egyptians were the ones to hide the treasure away,” he hummed. “Everyone else assumed it was stolen and hidden away here after some fights between royal ownership broke out.”

“Which is a ridiculous conclusion to jump to. If they were actually paying any attention to expedition records, they would see that slaves and materials were being transported into the desert with no real conclusion given.”

“I like you,” he mused. “Say, once we get you outta this mess and get the treasure, we should get dinner.”

You laughed, looking at the rock wall in disbelief. “You don’t even know what I look like. I could be some hideous monster.”

“Well,” he drawled, “you sound pretty good-lookin’ to me.”

You bit your lip, trying to desperately ignore the warmth rising to your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you turned your flashlight back up to the writing. “Anyway, how are we getting me out?”

“Lucky for you, I may have found a solution to your little problem.”

-

“Well, well, well.” Illinois stepped through the dust in the air. You were ducked in the corner as far away from the entrance wall as possible, arms covering your head. You uncovered yourself and turned in your crouched position to face him. “Aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes.”

He offered you a hand and helped you get to your feet. You dusted yourself off, wincing at the small cuts and scrapes that littered your arms from the debris that happened to hit you. “Did you really have to blow it up?”

He shrugged, a lopsided grin on his face as he began scouting the small area you’d been trapped in. “It was faster than trying to move everything.” He gestured up at the wall. “Now, where’s those hieroglyphs you found, you handsome-and-or-beautiful creature?”

You rolled your eyes and pointed him to an entirely different section of the wall. “It’s up there. Think you can translate it?”

“Possibly.” He hummed, rubbing the scruff of his neck as he looked at the distant writing. “Could take a minute.”

“Take your time.”

As you waited for him to figure out what the writing said, you rummaged through your bag. It was a bit torn up from the explosion, but nothing a sewing kit in a motel room couldn’t patch up real nice. You pulled out a roll of bandages and a water bottle. It would be better to clean and wrap up your arms before you go any deeper into the temple, to avoid infection and any sand that could bury itself in your injuries.

You held the end of a bandage in your mouth and poured water over your arm. It stung like hell. You made sure to pour extra water over the deeper scratches. Clumsily, you set the water bottle on the ground and got started wrapping up your arm.

“Need some help with that?”

Before you could even protest, the handsome man was taking the roll from you and holding your wrist to carefully and skillfully bandage your arm. You would have complained, but it was easier for him to help you than for you to keep struggling like you were.

“Thanks, Illinois.” You rolled his name off your tongue playfully. It was certainly an unusual name for an equally as unusual man. “So, what brought you around here?”

He shrugged off your gratitude. He felt somewhat responsible for your injuries anyway, no matter how minor. In the hall, he was able to get farther away and find better cover. This room was small and open. There was no situation where you wouldn’t be getting out unscathed.

“Same reason as you, I’m guessing.” He tucked the end of the bandage away, making sure it was secure so it wouldn’t fall off. He picked up your water and began cleaning your other arm unprompted. “Heard about the artifact, found the location of the temple; couldn’t resist.”

“Do you really think it has the power to show someone their greatest desires?”

When you flinched at the water hitting a particularly sore scrape, he apologized quietly. “I think there’s more to it than what they claim. I’ve come across quite a few cursed items and objects that claim to have a greater power attached to them.” He unrolled another bandage.

“And?” you coaxed.

“And,” he continued, “they’re not always what they seem. Found a crystal totem shaped like a monkey a while back. When I returned it to its pedestal, I was transported to Monkey Heaven.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself. “Monkey Heaven? C’mon, cowboy, I’m not that stupid.” If his cheeks tinted pink at your nickname, he didn’t let it show.

“It’s the truth!” He finished wrapping up your other arm and stood straight with his hands on his hips, defending himself. “I had a good partner to help me return it. When we left the ‘Monkey Heaven Haze’ - their words not mine - we had a jeweled banana and a diamond to show for it.”

“And your partner?”

He got quiet, looking off to the side. “I’ve lost a good many partners in my adventures.”

You didn’t press the matter. The past was in the past, and neither of you were leaving this temple without that artifact. Besides, you’d lost a few good people on your travels, too. All anyone needed to do was look at the man pierced into the wall back there.

“Thanks for the help.” You held up your arms, studying his handiwork. “I appreciate it.”

Pulled back from his thoughts, he smiled at you and tipped his hat. “Anytime.” When he winked, you swore you heard a whip crack somewhere.

-

“There it is.”

One trapdoor, an exhausting swim through leech-infested water, and a simple puzzle involving putting some rocks on a weighted pedestal, and finally you’d made it. Seeing the enclosed room, covered wall to wall in hieroglyphs just waiting to be translated. It took your breath away. And that didn’t even mention the golden scarab sculpture that sat in the middle.

“She’s a real beauty,” Illinois breathed out.

“Yeah.”

The most you could do for several minutes was take in the sight. After today, the likelihood of getting back in this temple and back to this place was slim. You two are the first and probably last people to witness this sanctuary in all its glory.

“What do you say to translating the writing, grabbing the beetle, getting out of here, and going to dinner?”

You chuckled, tearing your eyes from the treasure to look at the cowboy. “Then who gets credit for the artifact?”

He hummed, rubbing his stubble again as he looked at you. There was a special glint in his eye. “I’d be more than happy to share the credit with you,” he offered. “If you agree to dinner, that is.”

“A little persistent there, aren’t we?” You quirked an eyebrow, smirking. “I’ll say yes if… I get full credit for the discovery.”

“Full credit?” He tilted his head down at you questioningly. You hummed an affirmative. A lopsided grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “For dinner with someone as beautiful-and-or-handsome as you? I’ll take that deal.”

[woundworship]

what do all of ur tags mean? :)

hi! sorry it took me so long to answer this. unfortunately, i suck

most of them are quotes or lyrics and most of them refer to concepts and motifs im obsessed with. i intend on having a tag for each of my fav characters and maybe someday i will, but i literally only have one for abigail hobbs. lmao. here they are:

and all the fears you hold so dear - my abigail tag. its from duvet, by bôa, and idk... it just suits her, i guess.

your feelings and mine are all holy - lesbian tag. what can i say? im a lesbian and to me, lesbian love IS holy. its from another bôa song, twilight.

at seventeen i started to starve myself - girlhood tag! i dont really know how to explain my choice for this tag, it just... fits. women starving themselves noth literally and metaphorically i guess? anyway. hunger by fatm.

if you could only see the beast you made of me - a tag for fathers. i will not be taking comment or speculation regarding my relationship with my father or my psychological state at the moment, thank you. howl is one of my favorite fatm songs, and i do have a lot of those.

you'll be sorry that you messed with me - this isnt really a religion tag; its more of a christianity tag. i am a pagan and actually very very religious, i just hate christianity. and god. its a lyric from florence's girls against god, a song that makes me cry if i think about the lyrics too much.

do i look moderate to you? - my tag for love. romantic love, that is. in an obsessed freak way. its the last of my tags thats a florence lyric, and this one is from moderation (another favorite).

someday you will ache like i ache - finally, a hole lyric! the first of well. a lot to come. this is my trauma tag, because i am a loser, and its from doll parts, because its a great song.

dog bait - also from doll parts, this is my werewolf tag

i fit right in your perfect skin - my tag for everything medical <3 i love that lyric and... yeah. medical shit Does fit right into your perfect skin. anyway, thats from reasons to be beautiful

was she asking for it? - just my deer tag. its from asking for it, and... i dont know, sometimes a girl is just feeling a little bit like a deer for once in her life ok

traditional inherited predispositional - runs in the family by amanda palmer. this one is for family stuff and its very much on the nose, just like all my other tags.

to carry on through cartilage and fluid - my last song lyric tag, from desert song by mcr. its just my death tag :)

just love me and eat - i love this quote so fucking much i got it tattooed on my chest last year. anyway, its from bones and all, and its the tag i use for romantic cannibalism (bc Yes, it IS important enough to be separated from the romance and the cannibalism tag, ok?)

to be eaten raw - started as my cannibalism tag, today its a catch all for cannibalism, gore and meat. is it me telling you its supposed to be eaten raw? is it musing about how it must be to be eaten raw? eh, i dont know. its not really that important though is it

thats most of them. the rest are self explanatory, but i do tag a few posts with 🧟 when i want them to go to my brother's tag (though mostly i just send them anything i want him to see)

not sure youre even gonna see this now thats been what, 6 months? but i hope your curiosity is sated <333

[multiverse-imagines]

Vashtember (A writer's hijacking)

I'm super excited for this list. I'm going to do my best to work a head and release these on a schedule, since these shorter blurbs ✨Theoretically ✨ take me an hour or two to make.

I'm also doing Tri-tember this year as well, but some prompts overlap. So the ones that overlap with vashtember, I won't post a second fic for (a little less on my self imposed work load.)

1. THE STAMPEDE

"There he is! It's Vash the Stampede!" One of the townsfolk hollered to his buddies as Vash was once more chased through town for his bounty. Vash ducked into an alleyway, which was narrow enough for him to climb up it, and make his escape by running across the rooftops. Hearing the gunshots begin to fade in the distance, he looped back around to the Inn to grab his bag, and then finally escaped the town. He didn't quit running, though, not until the town was just a speck on the horizon.

Finally resting at the base of a nearby rock formation, Vash let out a sigh as he relaxed, the evening suns setting behind him, allowing him some shade. 

"Vash… The Stampede…" He spoke aloud to no one, musing over the title he'd been given. The Humanoid Typhoon… 

It was almost comical… How much he hated that name. 

It was always Stampede this, or Stampede that… Everyone loved Vash, he knew that much… he was kind, good with kids, a great time out drinking, and he'd used his skills to save so many people… so many plants… but…

Everybody hates The Stampede… The Sixty Billion Double Dollar Man… Wanted… Dead or Alive… Dessimator of Cities, The world's first person deemed an Act of God… These were all just… things, he was to people… 

Vash dug out a can of food he hadn't eaten on his last journey between towns, and ate it cold, too tired to start a fire.

What happened to the days when he was The son of Rem Saverem? He wondered as he munched. He knew exactly what had happened of course… but he wanted nothing more for those days to return…

He sighed not wanting to visit those bittersweet memories again.

"...Rem…" he murmured to himself as he gave thought to his mother's surname, Saverem. There had been a time when he used to introduce himself as Vash Saverem. A handful of years when using a surname actually mattered. In the early years of No Man's Land, family names were simply unnecessary unless there were two Johns, for example. There was never another Vash. In the decades after, Vash had used his surname with those he met once people of No Man's Land could even minorly relax and begin establishing family lines again. It wasn't until his first Oopsie-Daisies that he began using the beloved surname less, and just became Vash. 

Vash chuckled a bit, shaking his head. Rem would probably hate to see her name dragged through the dirt like that… he'd known early on that he could no longer use the beloved surname.

It was set in stone altogether when people began calling him things like, The Stampede, or The Humanoid Typhoon. He'd thought it was a dumb name. After a while, though… he came to the conclusion that it didn't really matter what he thought of the name. It was his role to play on this desert planet now. He was meant to be the villain to take the blame for all of the turmoil on this desert planet. It was rather fitting since he was mostly to blame for The Fall. If they needed someone to blame, a scapegoat for their problems caused by their own recklessness… why not have it be him?

It wasn't as if he never got to take a break from being The Stampede… when he was with Wolfwood, he was just Vash. It was charming when Milly called him Mr. Vash. Meryl… Well, someday, maybe he will just be Vash to her… When he was alone, he was Vash Saverem.

Additionally, he'd also been Eriks. Vash gave a gentle smile at the life he'd lead as Eriks, just some dude in a small town. That was where he felt he was able to truly be himself. People didn't judge him for being The Stampede in that little town… then again they didn't know. They never found out. They just saw some dopey guy with a heart of gold, who helped around the town anywhere he could, and took care of Grandma and Lina. In his heart, Vash knew that's who he truly was. The persona he'd created as Eriks was who he truly was once you threw away his haunted past, and plant biology. That's who he truly was.

Vash remembered one day when Wolfwood had asked him what his real name was. Wolfwood had always been curious about Vash, as well as Knives. Two independent plants using a planet for Knives' self imposed war. 

"As far as I'm concerned, My name… Is Irrelevant." He'd said, and at the time, he meant it. What his name was, whether it be Saverem, Eriks, or The Stampede, it didn't change anything about the experiences Vash and Nicholas had together. He meant it.

But that hadn't stopped him from whispering it one night, a few nights later. Wolfwood was lying near him, using the wrapped up Punisher as a pillow, his back to Vash. He knew Wolfwood was a light sleeper. He knew he would hear him.

"Vash… Saverem." He whispered once, and only once. 

Maybe someday, Vash thought, when the desert hellscape was a safe place, and he no longer had to be Vash The Stampede, he could be Vash Saverem once more… Maybe he could shake things up and become Eriks Saverem. He didn't know what the future had in store for him… his ticket to the future would always be blank. What he did know, is that until he could once more make the Saverem name a proud one, he would be:

The Stampede.

[soo8inz]

five — "so if this doesn't come out well, i'll actually gouge out my own eyeballs."

after a lot of begging and nagging y/n was pulled out of the studio and into the small student lounge and sat at one of the tables.

"you haven't eaten since like yesterday probably, eat, then you can go finish your work.", ryujin sighed before getting her own food out.

"eating super early grosses me out and i didn't have time to eat lunch because of how back to back my classes are today.", y/n retaliated before starting to eat. but she couldn't deny that finally eating after hours of nonstop work didn't feel like some sort of heaven, like reaching an oasis in the middle of the desert.

ryujin simply stared at her friend before rolling her eyes and huffing. "how stubborn..", she thought to herself before returning to her food.

it was nearing 8pm and while that necessarily wasn't super late, it was late enough where there were barely any students roaming around the building save for the couple that stayed to finish works or professors that were grading and or working on their own pieces.

"how's the painting coming along?"

"don't know, haven't started it."

"what do you mean you haven't started it??"

"..i may have gotten distracted... and started working on something completely different."

"don't you have a critique for that painting soon?"

"i always have critiques.", y/n rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink.

"my point still stands, and what got you so distracted that you had to start a completely different project."

"...dorian gray."

"the fucking soul sucking painting book? i thought you hated it."

"i have some criticism about it, but i got hit with inspiration so–"

"so you started a different painting."

"basically. anyways it's ok looking right now but it's not horrible so i think it'll come out pretty good once i'm done with it. besides, yeonjun is amazing help with modeling.", ryujin narrowed her eyes a bit but if y/n saw, she didn't say anything.

"how's your philosophy class going?"

"fucking horrible, who decided that immortalizing the words of a bunch of old ass men would be the best thing in the world like... i don't get it.", ryujin groaned and put her head in her hands.

"so you don't understand the material."

"of course i don't understand the material!"

"it's ok, if anything you could try bullshitting your essays like you did in your literature courses last year."

"at this rate i'll be bullshitting all the way til graduation."

"doesn't sound so bad, and besides you're not the only one doing it.", the two laughed and continued eating and conversing, and soon enough they were throwing away their trash and walking towards the painting studio.

the strong scent of chemicals and paint welcomed her back. before she had felt like she was suffocating when she would walk in, but enough time had passed that the headaches were no longer present and there was a sense of familiarity and some sort of comfort.

"i don't understand how you stay in here for hours.", ryujin sniffled and scrunched her nose. "i thought you said some of this was scentless."

"you get used to it, and that's what the bottles say but they do have their own smell, it's just not as strong.", y/n replied while the two walked over to one of the easels set up.

they both gazed upon the latest of y/n's personal projects; she was still in the process of blocking in colors onto the canvas, and when she was mostly done with those she would move onto other areas and start painting out details.

"so is he supposed to be dorian gray or?"

"yes and no? i took inspiration from dorian gray being basil hallward's muse that prompted the painting that absorbed his sins in the book. the posing and all that is more of how i thought his character would spend his days thinking of what to indulge in next after he had locked the painting away. it's also more modernized as you can tell by his clothes.", ryujin simply nodded along, it was times like these that her friend left her speechless. she knew how much she worked on her things and would often compliment her skills and work, but to hear more of the process, the concept and see the painting before it was finished was something completely different. it was different seeing y/n in her element.

"it looks amazing right now."

"i hope so, it took forever to find the reference photo i liked the most with posing and colors. so if this doesn't come out well, i'll actually gouge out my own eyeballs.", y/n huffed and sat down, taking out her brushes and palette full of different mixes of paint.

"well i'll be going now, good luck on this painting and please start your actual assignment.", ryujin said while making her way towards the door of the studio.

"yeah yeah, i'll start it... at some point."

"no all nighter procrastination!"

"no promises!", and with that the door closed and y/n turned to look at the time on her phone.

"8:43, that's not too bad."

there was another long night of painting ahead of her.

taglist: @yyx2 @yeonyeonyeonjun

[warandpussy]

fic authors self rec! when you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. let’s spread the self-love 🤍✨

Omg 🥺 thank you friend... this is so hard (difficult) because I never read anything back!! But here is my list:

Multiphonics, AKA orchestra au, AKA the tortoise of slorchestra The Untamed 63k This is my longest fic ever and the first time I ever finished anything truly novel-length. It's sooooo personal and it's about music and duets and falling in love and writing it was very cathartic. It's also fundamentally very silly. I really loved writing it and the comments I've got on it have been so nice and heartwarming (almost wrote heartworming there). It's really my magnum opus I think.

All Alone (More or Less), AKA red dwarf au, AKA missy fic Doctor Who 39k My second longest fic ever and I wrote it like 3 months after the last one (remember when I could write... lol...) It's MY version of a Missy redemption arc and I guess sort of musing on what that would mean for her, because soooo many redemption arcs just leave me cold. You do not have to walk a hundred miles on your knees through the desert repenting et cetera. I just wanted to approach it from a perspective that wasn't so catholic and awful, so it's about change and what that means for her, and what her future would look like after that change. Missy is so mean and broken in the head!! Also there's a lot of Gender in there. I think it's probably my most complete character arc. It was a lot of fun to write this one too.

Buried in Hallowed Ground, AKA doncaster fic Doctor Who 13k The experience of writing this one was very strange - I started it in March 2020 ish and then had a hellish few months and picked it up again in September and finished the whole thing. Which is not something I'm usually able to do - once I lose interest I lose interest! But this was about my hometown which I love and missed so much, for obvious reasons. Like, Doncaster is a shithole... but it's MY shithole, you know? And writing this was almost like getting to go back again.

Spare Hearts, AKA the twissydole, AKA the inception of spare head nardole Doctor Who 11k I don't really have any excuses for this one. It's sort of also inspired by red dwarf in that there's an episode where the robot butler in that show takes of his head and replaces it with a spare head, and he keeps all his heads in a cupboard. And I did the same thing with Nardole and then made the Doctor practice kissing with one of the spare heads. And now I have a whole universe of headcanons where Nardole has spare heads and sometimes I forget that's not actually in the show.

Reach for the Stars, AKA liverpool fic, AKA climbing fic The Untamed 3.5k I just like this one because I think it's funny!! I wrote it in a 2 or 3 hour session from start to finish and then edited and posted it the next day. I haven't read it back, so it might not be the most technically proficient (I bet there's spelling errors in there) but I really made myself laugh and that's what matters to me the most I think. I'm in a fallow period at the moment (I've been saying that for like 5 months now) where writing is just so fucking difficult and every time I sit down I get in my own head about it and I can't get any words out. Contrasting where I am now with where I was when I wrote this, it's night and day. I'd like to get this energy back honestly!!!!

There we go that's my list :) I'm mostly thinking about the experience of writing things here, rather than saying I think these are the best things I've written; I honestly don't really think that's for me to judge! But as the writer I think the experience of creation is the most important part for me, and the part that sticks with me.

Looking back it's pretty obvious to me that the ones that made it on here are almost all comedies, or at least have an element of farce to them. Maybe red dwarf au is the most serious out of all of them - but it's based on a sitcom and I do think it has comedic notes to it, though it gets darker than most of my other stuff. I think for me the way that I like to explore themes is through comedy / jokes! And that makes the process of writing it more fun, and then I want to write it, and when I want to write something I think I have a better time doing so and make a better end result. And then the fics where I was just trying to write Serious Writing and Take Myself Seriously are the ones that end up being a slog and I don't like the way they turn out. I'm not trying to say I'm mega funny... I mostly write to make myself laugh more than anything.

Anyway, yes! There you go 😘

[talldarkandroguesome]

17th of Midyear, Loredas

We were somewhat delayed in our return. The bandits in this area are truly out of control!

And the fact that we were attacked by senche lions did NOT help matters!

We made it before nightfall, however. And we made it before Euraxia’s forces, which is the most important part. We actually made it back in time.

The town was on guard. I could hear people talking in low tones. The marketplace was empty, save for the blacksmith and tanner handing out weapons and armor to people.

I could see fortifications being made to help protect the town from being attacked from the sides. The river would help keep Euraxia’s forces from attacking on all sides, but it was not particularly well fortified beyond that. The stone buildings would stand up to foot soldiers or cavalry, but not to any sort of siege weapons. I knew she had some in Rimmen, but I did not know if she would have some brought to Riverhold or not.

I hurried to our meeting point and found The Speaker watching as Tharn was bent over a map on the table, writing something down. They both snapped to attention as the sound of my Houseguards’ armor clanked behind Nettle and I.

There was a sort of desperation in Tharn’s eyes, not of a sexual manner, not like I have sometimes seen before when he has carnal need of release, but something entirely unknown to me. Like there was a fear that this might not work out. A lack of the usual air of confidence that he exudes no matter how dire a situation. This was real fear that at that moment someone was going to tell them they were under attack before they had finished having a chance to mount their defense.

I suspect this, for as soon as I approached, the look diminished slightly. He told me that he had informed The Speaker and Khamira of the fallout from the parley and that forces were being mobilized into defensive position. Then he told me to tell him all that I found out.

There was a sinking in my stomach. For one, I had little good to share. Secondly, there was no snark to Tharn. No brutal accusations for the sake of poking fun. None of his need for exerting control or dominance he is so fond of. It was straight to business. Another first for me. Even taking on Molag Bal had not seen such a response.

I explained that they were at the Desert Winds Adeptorium to learn where Sir Cadwell’s body had been hidden. We discussed my conversations with the necromancer his sister employed and about this Betrayer business. Tharn mused that he had wondered about Sir Cadwell in life, given how powerful and strange he is in death. He also could not seem to rectify in his head that Sir Cadwell, mad but kind, was the same as this legendary brutalizer of old.

When we finished discussing that, he said we would concentrate on getting to the bottom of that as soon as we fought off Euraxia here.

I informed him about the Grand Adept’s passing and said that, while it was a huge blow to our cause and to Khajiit culture, making sure to express my sympathies with the necessary hand stand-in for the sadness tail movements, the one positive that came of it was that the survivors were galvanized to join our defense of the city in order to set right that death.

Tharn was brightened by the news, praising the martial abilities of the adepts, which I had myself witnessed in small part just days prior. And he asked if I were ready to defend the city.

I told him it was what I was hear for, along with being his valet and bodyguard, of course. The corner of his lip turned up and he told me that that was good. That I should see that myself, and those with me rested to recover our strength for the coming attack. He predicted it would be at least another day, perhaps two or three should we be lucky, before Euraxia’s forces arrived. He was basing it mostly off the troop movements that the Khajiiti Defense Force scouts had been sending along.

Then he pulled out a silk cloth bundle and told me that, although he did not have any use for Khajiiti gold, The Speaker continued to offer compensation for services. He held out the bundle and I took it, feeling the weight of the gift in my hand, wondering what other grand relic might be offered.

I looked at Tharn and he rolled his eyes and told me to open it up, and said sarcastically that if I made him wait any longer the battle might be upon us.

What I unwrapped was the most beautiful Khajiit dagger. It was thin, with a slight curve to the blade. The handle appeared to be ivory with gold inlay in the most intricate patterns. They bore the faces of the moons in different phases.

I opened my mouth to speak and Tharn cut me off saying that it was not much, but it was the best looking piece that the merchants in this small town had, so he had hoped it would be of use for the upcoming battle.

All I said was a thank you, stunned that this was not just handing off a relic he was given, but that he had actually gone to purchase me something instead of handing me the pouch of gold. And more than that, he had picked a weapon he knew me to use. He must have thought about what would best serve me. He could have grabbed any fancy sword, but of course, I always used only one. I had many daggers and knives, however, so he must have considered that in his decision.

Was it possible that Tharn actually had a heart under that grumpy Imperial mask he wore?

I wrapped the dagger back up and placed it into my bag. Then I thanked The Speaker and turned to leave. Tharn put a hand on my shoulder and asked if I could meet him after I had freshened up, for he had a private matter he wished to discuss with me prior to battle.

Of course I knew what that meant. As did all of my retinue. And I could only surmise that The Speaker had an idea as well, given the acute senses Khajiit have. 

That did not stop me from playing my role. We went to the rooms we had occupied before, still held in our names. I went and bathed.

To my surprise, I returned from my bath to find Tharn in my chambers. Typically he waited for me to come to him. I was unsure if I should be worried or not.

He had made himself at home upon my bed, boots up on the mattress as if he had not a care in the world.

I let my silk robe fall from my shoulders as I approached him, not minding how it gaped in places. I stood besides him and waited to hear what he wanted of me.

He looked up expectantly. He wanted me to be the one to go after him, to ask if I might put my lips to his service.

And that is what the House expected of me, too. And I would expect of me as well. And that whole thought bristled in me. I wanted to be defiant, even if just a little. To not be the predictable whore-noble of the House, even if it was just in the smallest way.

So I looked down at him and asked to what I owed the pleasure of an Imperial Chancellor making the effort to come all the way to my personal chambers.

He frowned, not having expected such a remark. I think a part of him wanted to say something back, but he also did not want to break his front of the man in control of everything. His hand started to reach out towards me, but he stopped and simply said my name in a tone of a disappointed teacher. 

I smiled, not pushing my luck any further, I still wanted to play my role. But I did enjoy the fact that I had found that point where Abnur Tharn was pushing up against his comfort level with letting someone see more of his true self. And a foreign noble was certainly not the person he wanted to let see such a thing, no matter how subservient I would be to him. He likely thought this was just a passing fancy to me, a game for the someone with too much time and too little chance to satisfy my “elven needs”. I know he gives into the stereotypes about my race. But I also was able to have him see that I was able to be more than that. That I could see that he was more than just what he pretended too. It clearly infuriated him. And that both pleased and aroused me.

Afterwards I was particularly obedient. He was initially rather rough with me, I had ruffled him. But as he grew closer to his need being met, he relaxed somewhat. He would come to times where he would remember himself and use humiliation, but I was only too eager for it and he would relax once again.

It was clear that he must have needed the release, for he fell asleep almost immediately after he was done. I watched him sleep. How much responsibility had he been carrying on his shoulders, justified or not? I could see the lines of age and worry in a way that were not usually there. And it made me wish to care for him. In a gentle sort of way.

I took out a bottle of sandalwood oil and began to massage his legs and feet. It was something we often did as a sign of respect for our elders, to show deference and care. It is something we do for the dying. Something we do for those recently passed. It is a very intimate thing for all Dunmer. Our legs support us through everything. Or feet carry us from one part of our life to the next. To show special care for those things is a great respect.

I finished by placing a kiss upon the tops of each foot and upon each knee.

When I glanced back up, Tharn was looking at me very peculiarly. He asked what I was doing. I told him it was something we did for our elders. I said it very cheekily, knowing that I was older than he and the usual scowl reappeared on his face.

I told him to sit up and I got a comb and he looked confused as he did so. I combed out his hair. Then I massaged his shoulders and arms and back. He was a labyrinth of tension. He said nothing as I working his muscles, however, only letting out a groan as I hit a sore spot or a low moan if it was a spot that felt particularly good.

When I finished, I simply got into bed besides him and laid down.

I could feel him staring at me, unsure what to make of this out of the ordinary behavior. And I knew that he was not likely to say much, what could he say if he wanted to keep up that very important Imperial veneer?

The bed shifted once. Twice. Thrice.

And then I felt him settle down at my back.

It was not long before I heard his breath even and knew hew as asleep again.

I slept with him besides me until it was close to dawn and he rose, without a word, waited to see if I was still asleep, and then kissed my cheek before he slipped softly out the door. I heard him whisper a word, but could not make out what it was.

I smiled once the door was shut. Under all of that, he had a soft spot. And I could not wait to use that to my advantage. Not for the House, not unless it was a dire need, but I knew that it would be useful for me and the Nest.

For my Prince I would take everything I could to use to my advantage.

[bdoubleowo]

to the anon who mentioned sending in scarian fic and seemed a little nervous about it, no worries! here's me joining you in solidarity. holding hands or smth idk it's almost midnight for me rn

scarian (duh lol)

summary: a series of moments from 3L!Scar's pov, as he falls a little to hard for the guy indebted to him. (or is he just in love with the way he looks while they plan to win their little death game? who knows, certainly not Scar)

cw: mostly fluff despite the heavy theme of murder / feelings realization / minor description of injuries / pining

There was a certain kind of something that Scar saw in Grian.

Sure - he was skilled at building (no, Scar did not sneak glances at his arms when he tied his sweater around his waist while working, why would you ask - ) and was no slouch when it came to combat (alright fine, he took one arrow while distracted by his backside as they ran for cover, that was one time - ), but those were all just bonuses. A free trial of sorts, it came with the territory of having a devoted lackey.

At least, Scar assumed it came with the territory. Were all people who'd gotten themselves stuck in life debts always this pretty?

But that's not what he was getting at.

What is it? he wondered, his constant background musing, while rambling about whatever came to mind out loud. Grian spared him half a raised eyebrow, patient-impatience clear in the slight tilt of his head. Something's gotta be the reason, it can't just be me, can it?

"Do you actually have a plan, Scar?"

"Of course I do!" That eyebrow inched higher. "Okay, fine, I didn't really have a plan. I'm working on it! Y'know, the best plans are the ones that are workshopped on the go."

"As long as we're not going in totally blind. Why're we going to the Crastle again?"

"To kill Bdubs!" Scar said, by far the most cheerful he'd been all day. "I've got this whole idea to sell some....something, I'm not sure yet, but it's gonna be good, I promise. And I was thinking that - "

"I go around the back and set up a trap?"

"Oh, now that's a good idea, I like that. You'll go around back, and - "

"Use the bubble-vator!" Grian giggled, spinning on a heel to grin at Scar. "You'll keep them distracted, while I set up the lava at the top. Obsidian and all, they'll fall for it I'm sure."

Scar couldn't do anything but nod. He was too busy blinking the gleam in Grian's eye out of his vision, the memory of his sharp smile an imprint on his mind. It left him speechless - a dangerous thing for someone like Scar.

Somehow....Scar didn't mind.

His partner in crime kept talking, developing their plan at top-speed. It took until that dangerous glint in Grian's eyes faded for Scar to find his voice again.

- - - -

The shouting was an unwelcome distraction. Scar had never pretended to be good with a bow, far from it, but his target was about to clear the hill, and -

"Scar!"

"Relax your shoulders, Scar," Grian said, his hand a heavy weight and brand on Scar's skin. He stood on tiptoe, chin barely brushing the top of his shoulder. "You're never gonna get a good shot if you don't focus. Breathe in as you pull back...."

He inhaled, slow, steady.

Grian moved his arm with practiced confidence. His fingertips tingled against him, very nearly distracting. "Focus down the length of the arrow. You'll want to aim a little bit higher to account for drag and the wind, all that stuff."

Etho was a small target, a moving one, but Scar had practice chasing down small things in their desert.

"Exhale before you fire, keep your form, and you should be good." Grian's hand on his shoulder slid down to the small of Scar's back, his instructions a quiet murmur in Scar's ear.

Scar exhaled, arrow flying true.

"Yes, Scar!"

Both past and present Grian cheered; Scar turned to cheer with him - and promptly lost all ability to speak. Grian stumbled towards him, expression just a bit wild, all edges and fierce and beautiful, with that spark of something burning brighter than the sun overhead.

Oh, Scar thought, dizzy with a revelation he could no longer pretend was adrenaline.

Oh dear.

- - - -

He'd lost his sword.

That wasn't the most important thing right this second - right now, it was Ren, staggering away with - oh, there it was! Scar's sword was stuck in Ren's shield, that was all.

The Red King snarled at him, and Scar met that challenge with bared teeth. Somewhere behind them, he could hear Martyn jeering at Grian.

The rest of the battle passed in a blur. Sweat-slick palms, sliding in loose soil, angry cries as blows were dealt, desperation from the enemy, one final arrow to claim their victory.

Scar dropped to his knees on the alter, head swimming. He needed to catalogue his injuries, needed to breathe, but first -

"Scar!"

He raised his head to Grian scrambling onto the alter, tripping over rubble and falling in front of him, hands already reaching out.

"We did it, Scar," he breathed, half-laughing, "we won! Scar, you got them, we - "

Scar wasn't listening, lost in the way Grian's hands were firm but gentle on his arms, how that something was back again; suddenly it didn't matter that they'd only just won.

Scar was rendered speechless once more, but he figured there was a better way to express whatever the something was that had burned it's way into every fiber of his being.

" - Scar? Scar, are you alright? Are you hurt - "

Grian froze when Scar tipped forward, hands coming up to cradle Grian's soot-streaked face as he kissed him.

The seconds passed like hours. Scar rubbed away the grime on Grian's cheeks as tenderly as he could. He pulled away to apologize, and that seemed to jerk Grian back into his body.

His grip on Scar's arms tightened, yanking him forward and deepening the kiss when Scar gasped.

They could've died right then and there, and Scar would've thanked the universe itself for giving him this moment, at least.

Grian reluctantly pulled away when Scar dropped his hands to his shoulders, gently pushing him back. Scar leaned his forehead against Grian's, catching his breath.

"We won."

[attllhak]

@technicallya1manband so, I just remembered that while I was camping I wrote another thing for the Gerudo Twilight AU. Specifically, I have a lot of fun with ‘The Unreliable Narrator That Is History’ (putting this like that, because I basically use it as a trope at this point), and I got bored one afternoon while hiding from the sun because it is HOT out, especially where I was. And then I thought I should probably have Twilight appear, so it kinda ended up ‘Expectation vs Reality’ by the end. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, I’m off to bed now

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

“You look upset,”

Zelda startled, twisting to see Urbosa standing in the doorway behind her. The Champions had only just been dubbed as such, and Zelda had wanted to get away from the celebrations.

“I’m not,” she lied, turning back to face the sky.

Urbosa sighed, and after a moment she settled down next to Zelda.

“Little bird, you do not have to lie to me,”

“I know,” she sighed, not bothering to defend herself. “I just, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. My power won’t awaken, no matter what I do, and I just, I can’t live up to the expectations everyone has set for me. My mother unlocked her power so easily, and my grandmother did too. Why is it just me that can’t do this?”

“Zelda,” Urbosa wound an arm around her shoulders and pulled the younger girl to her side. “You need to stop comparing yourself to them. You aren’t them, and your power will awaken for you when you are ready,”

“But I’ve been ready!” Zelda threw out her hands. “And it’s not that easy to just, not compare! I know you wouldn’t understand that, but I just,” she put her head in her hands. “I don’t know what to do,”

“Wouldn’t understand, eh?”

Zelda peeked up through her fingers as Urbosa leaned back on her hands. 

“Would you let me tell you a story, little bird?”

“A, story?”

“It has a moral,” Urbosa promised. “And I think you’ll like it,”

“Okay,” Zelda folded her hands in her lap. “Tell me a story,”

“This is an old story, very, very old. Almost, but not quite, as old as the gerudo ourselves. Back when Ganon took the form of a gerudo voe,”

“Seriously?” Zelda twisted to face Urbosa, eyes wide. “That is old,”

“Indeed,” Urbosa smiled. “The man that would become the monster Ganon had been king for only a few years when the Hero of that era defeated him. I won’t go into the details, as they get confusing, and this story is not about them. After he was defeated, Ganon was sentenced to death. He was not successfully killed, but that is also a tale for another time. What I wish to speak of is the aftermath,”

“Why start with Ganon when you’re talking about something after him?” Zelda huffed.

“Because, little bird, Ganon’s defeat left the gerudo without a king. I know it may not seem this way now, with how long it’s been since the gerudo had a king last, but this was the first time we were without so much as a prince. Not to mention the hatred we faced for our King’s actions,” Urbosa frowned, looking off into the distance. “The hylian crown was not kind to my people in the aftermath of Ganon’s defeat. We were chased even further out into the desert, and we struggled there for a long, long time. For almost a hundred years, we were without a king, and so we elected the first chief, to rule until a new king was born,”

“I’m so sorry,” Zelda frowned, suddenly feeling guilty.

“Do not apologize, little bird. It happened so long ago, and things have changed so much,” Urbosa pulled her in again. “Besides, the hylians also gave us our next king,”

“What?”

Both women turned to see the other Champions hovering in the doorway, though thankfully it seemed Zelda’s new knight was not among them.

“Sorry about that, highnesses,” Daruk mumbled, giving Revali a sharp look. “The King asked us to come find you, but we were kinda invested in the story,”

“I don’t mind telling you as well,” Urbosa turned to Zelda. “How about it? Can they join us?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course!” Zelda floundered, waving them out. “Please, take a seat,”

They filed in and sat around the two, and everyone turned back to Urbosa.

“Right, where was I?”

“A hylian king,” Revali said, looked a bit affronted on the gerudo’s behalf.

“He wasn’t hylian,” she corrected. “Well, I suppose that isn’t totally true. He definitely looked hylian, but he was gerudo. One of the girls who was alive when Ganon ruled had seen the writing on the wall and hid her daughter with the girl’s hylian father. This girl later married a hylian man herself and her daughter, it is said, moved very far away. Out into the middle of nowhere. She had a daughter herself, and this daughter had a son,”

“The King,” Zelda guessed.

“Yes, the King,” Urbosa smiled. “He didn’t know that though. His mother died when he was very young, and he did not return to the desert until he was already mostly grown. But, he did eventually return to us. I’m not sure how we knew he was our king, but there was no doubt at all by the time he was crowned. Of course, he was not in an easy spot. We were still suffering from the aftermath of Ganon’s rule, and he had very little time to prepare for his new role,” she paused to smile. “Which makes his achievements all that much more impressive,”

“You put an incompetent king on a throne vacated by the monster we’re getting ready to fight, and you expect us to believe he did well?” Revali huffed.

“No,” Urbosa said. “I expect you to believe we have never had a better ruler, either king or chief, after him,”

“What did he do?” Zelda asked while the others convinced Revali to stop squawking.

“Firstly, he repaired relations with the rest of Hyrule. Hylian - gerudo relations have only ever been better when your own mother was queen. Apparently he already knew the Queen at the time, and the two spent several days coming to an agreement that ended with all of the desert, and the highlands, being gerudo territory, so long as we remained a vassal state under Hyrule. After that, he is noted as having brought our people back to prosperity,”

“One king did all that?” Mipha asked.

“Yes,” Urbosa smiled. “At the time of Ganon’s rule, the gerudo were thieves. It was his gentle pushing that caused the change into a people of merchants. It is said that the first gerudo jeweller began her trade at the encouragement of the King. She was not the only one to have been encouraged by the King, of course. You know, the reason all gerudo chiefs have our own sand seals is because of him,”

“Really?” Zelda asked, thinking of Urbosa's own sand seal back in Gerudo Town.

“Oh yes, he loved animals,” she laughed. “It is said his pride and joy was a horse he’d raised from a foal that he never travelled outside of the desert without, and he even brought a goat with him into the desert,”

“A goat?” Zelda blanched.

“A goat,” Urbosa nodded. “One of the vai had an idea, to use the sand seals native to the desert as transportation. She decided to prove the worth of this idea, as it was still relatively unheard of for gerudo to be anything but warriors, by catching and taming one first. Once she had, she brought the animal to the King and offered it as a gift,” Urbosa smiled, shaking her head. “The King adored this idea, and loved his newest pet. He was very personally involved in the beginnings of the project, and encouraged the vai who had the idea when she suggested renting them out for people to use to cross the desert. The stories say that if the King was in gerudo town and couldn’t be found in the palace, then he’d be found with the seals,”

Zelda couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“My sword and shield are based on his, you know,”

“What?”

“Gerudo kings, before him, all fought with a pair of twin swords. However, when he arrived he already had a decent grasp of swordplay. Only he fought with a single sword and a shield. He was gifted a set at his coronation, and ever since then the leader of the gerudo fought with a sword and shield. I had mine made to look like the pictures we have of his,”

“That’s actually kind of sweet, in a way,” Zelda mused.

“What do you call him?”

“Hm?” Urbosa turned at Revali’s question.

“Don’t you gerudo give your kings fancy titles?” Revali elaborated. “What do you call this king?”

“Probably the Seal King,” Daruk suggested.

“Please!” Revali rolled his eyes.

“What do you think he’s called then?” Zelda asked.

“Well, I would have called him the Hero King,”

“What about the Merchant King?” Mipha suggested.

“Little bird?” Urbosa prompted. “Do you have a guess?”

“Um,” Zelda thought on that. “Perhaps, the Healing King? Since, he’s the one who got you back to a good point,”

“All very good guesses,” Urbosa smiled. “All wrong. We call him the Wolf King,”

“Wolf King?” More than a few of them echoed back.

“Yes,” Urbosa nodded. “Fierce and feral like a beast to enemies, but to allies, there is none more loyal or dedicated,” she sighed, looking wistfully at the now setting sun. “If given the chance to meet any individual from Hyrule’s history, I would want to meet him. To ask for his advice on matters, to let him see what he’s done for our people. I just hope that I will be able to be even half the leader he was,”

“You already are,” Zelda said softly.

Urbosa turned to her, and smiled. “Little bird, that means more to me than you know,”

(---)

“Princess?”

Zelda turned to see Chief Riju approach her where she stood on the balcony overlooking Gerudo Town.

“Oh, Chief Riju, my apologies,” Zelda dipped her head, an embarrassed pink making its way up her neck and onto her cheeks. “I didn’t, if I’m in the way,”

“You aren’t,” Chief Riju shook her head. “And please, just Riju,”

Zelda nodded, still a bit embarrassed, and the two looked out over the town together in silence for a moment.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” Riju asked.

“Just, thinking about Urbosa’s legacy,” Zelda admitted.

“Oh?”

“She told me a story once, about an old gerudo king. The Wolf King. She said she had wanted to be even half as good as he was,”

“She succeeded,” Riju told her. “At least, in my opinion,”

“No, you’re right,” Zelda shook her head, smiling. “I just hope she knows that, is all. Knows that she was able to leave a big enough positive impact that she succeeded in her goal,”

Riju set a hand on Zelda’s arm. “I do too,”

Neither girl said another word.

(---)

Zelda felt a bit like screaming, if she was completely honest.

Link, Wild, whatever he was calling himself, had gotten sucked away on some magic time travelling quest with other Heroes, and now he was introducing her to his mentor, the Hero of Twilight.

A Hero, who it turns out was also the Wolf King.

He was shorter than Zelda had pictured him, and you would never know he was the gerudo king by his appearance. He definitely looked the part of a wolf, though.

But here he was, holding out the original sword and shield that Urbosa’s were based on. There were differences, obviously, but the smith who made the Scimitar of the Seven and Daybreaker had done a very good job replicating them.

“Are we done now, Cub?” The King, Twilight, sighed.

He didn’t seem to be very invested in his role as king, which contrasted Urbosa’s description of him as ‘dedicated’. In fact, it seemed like he wanted to stop talking about it as quickly as possible.

“Almost,” Link nodded. He turned to Zelda and waved his hands at Twilight. “See? I told you I got to meet him!”

“What?” Twilight asked.

“Oh, uh, pardon us, Your Highness,” Zelda gave him a half bow, and noted the way his face scrunched up. “It’s just, my good friend Urbosa had told me about you a long time ago. She looked up to you and your legacy, and so I’ve also, sort of, admired you. I, I never thought I’d actually get to meet you,”

Oh, Urbosa should be here, Zelda thought. She had wanted to meet him,

“Right,” he said slowly, tucking the sword and shield back in his bag. “Uh, thanks?”

“You, don’t seem very invested in your kingship,” Zelda noted.

“May I be completely honest with you, Your Highness?”

“Of course,” she firmly tamped down the excitement in her chest.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,”

“What?”

That definitely didn’t sound like the king Urbosa told her about.

“I grew up on a ranch,” he explained. “I herd goats. I barely knew what I was doing when I became the Hero. And now I find out I’m supposed to be a king? My village had a mayor, and he taught me how to wrestle gorons. Because he used to wrestle gorons. I don’t know how many kings can wrestle gorons,”

“At least one,” Link offered.

“Not helping,” Twilight shot him a halfhearted glare. He turned back to her and sighed. “Look, I’m sure there’s some reason you and Urbosa admired me, but I have no idea what that could possibly be. I’m impressed I haven’t screwed anything up too badly yet. So, it’s not that I’m not invested, I’m stuck in the position so I may as well actually try and do well, it’s just, I’m sort of riding blind here. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’d really rather not talk about it,”

“Oh,” Zelda blinked. “I, suppose that makes sense. My apologies, I’ll try to refrain from bringing it up. I hadn’t intended to make you uncomfortable,”

“You didn’t,” he sighed, and Zelda felt a bit relieved. “And, thanks. It’s just, a whole headache for me,”

“I believe I understand the feeling, Your Majesty,”

“No, stop,”

“Stop?”

“No ‘Your Majesty’. No ‘King Link’, no royal titles at all. I am Link Ordon, the goat herd,” he frowned deeply. “I will accept ‘Hero’ if you must, but I,” he sighed in what seemed like defeat. “Please, just call me Twilight,”

“Of course, Twilight,”

“Thank you,”

Zelda wasn’t sure if the fact that Urbosa’s idol had no clue what he was doing would have made her friend feel any better, but it did boost Zelda’s confidence about the monumental task in front of her.

It was just a pity she wouldn’t be able to get any tips from him.

Although, apparently Hyrule’s first king was also among Links’s travelling companions. Maybe she could ask him for advice...

[chokemeanakin]

Misunderstandings - Anakin x fem Reader (angst +fluff)

Masterlist

Thank you for the request @artiza-n ! 💕

Wc: 6.4k

Summary: Anakin and reader get sent to Naboo to guard Padme and Clovis during a debate and some misunderstandings ensue. Mostly jealous angst, some fluff at the end— happy ending bc we all need that right now.

Gif from @swprequels​

“I still don’t understand why they need both of us,” you grumble, rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you walk out of the cruiser. The day is hot on Naboo, but grey and cloudy with a promise of rain later. The humidity makes your skin sticky, worsening your irritation.

“Think of it as a vacation,” Anakin pulls the luggage from the transport cubby, setting it on the ground beside him. “You watch over Clovis, and I’ll handle Padme. It should be a breeze.”

“Exactly. Which is why I don’t understand why they need both of us.”

You had just gotten back from a long and grueling siege on Pontoon, another one of those vast, endless desert planets in the Outer Rims. You’d really much rather be sitting in front of an air cooler right now, resting your tired bones and trying to forget the taste of sand.

“These are two very important Senators, Y/n,” Anakin waved off your attempt to help him with the luggage. “If anything happens to them at this debate, the Senate will lose important advocates for peace and the end of this war.”

You knew this, of course you did. Not that you’d completely agree with his statement-- Clovis always seemed a little shady to you, his morals seemingly scattered all over the place. You guessed that’s why the Council sent you, a simple marksman, to guard Clovis while the beloved freedom-fighter Padme Amidala got the most powerful Jedi to ever exist. 

“Besides,” said Jedi nudged you, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

Of course you do. Between the war and separate guild or Council missions you’d both been sent on, neither of you had time to even breathe in the others’ direction for months. The only reason the Council was able to wrangle you onto this cruiser was because Anakin was going to be there. Not that you’d even be able to spend much time with him during the day, although you were aware that you’d be sharing a room in between the Senators you’d be protecting at night…

You and Anakin meet the Senators at the hull of the ship. They walk down the ramp side by side, heads held high and hands clasped in front of them. Their movements are smooth, like they’re gliding on water, and the heat doesn’t seem to bother either of them.

“Master Skywalker. Y/n. Thank you so much for being here, it is so courageous of the both of you to be looking out for us,” Padme stands before you, beautiful as ever in one of her many extravagant, expensive gowns. The headpiece woven through her hair sparkles in the midday light, the warmth of her eyes capturing the rays of the brilliant sun. “However, I must say that I hope your services are not needed. I’d much rather this debate go by smoothly than have any dangerous interruptions.”

“I can assure you, we’ll take care of any problems before they arrive. Leave the dirty work up to us,” Anakin returns her smile, charming as ever. 

Anakin shoots you a glance and then follows her away, carrying multiple bags of luggage in each arm as Padme shows him where to put it. For such a small woman, she seemed to pack heavy. Unfortunately, this leaves you and Clovis to stand alone together, an awkward stillness settling before you.

“Um, Anakin has your luggage,” you yawn into your arm, gesturing to his receding form with the other. “I’m Y/n, and I’ll be your bodyguard for this debate.”

“You?” Clovis doesn’t smile, instead he scans you up and down with hawkish eyes. “You’re such a small thing. What could you possibly be able to do to protect me?”

It’s not said unkindly, but it still irks you. Your eyes narrow and you bite back a nasty retaliation for the sake of diplomacy. “You’ll find I’m pretty good with a blaster. The best, actually, according to the Jedi Council. That’s why they have me work with the Generals in the war.”

“Are you a General yourself?” Clovis begins to walk, heading toward the senate building. You follow at his side.

“Not exactly. They offered me the title, but I declined. I’m more of a freelancer, and once the war ends, I’ll go back to taking odd jobs. Besides, there’s no use in having an army if I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Humble. That’s admirable,” Clovis’s mouth tilts into something of a smile. “I, myself, could never turn down an army. Or the status, for that matter. You could be holding a lot of power if you pushed your way with the Jedi Council, you know.”

“My way?” you questioned. “I just told you, I don’t have a way--”

“And that’s your flaw,” he mused, chin still pointed up, never quite looking at you. “How curious-- your Jedi counterpart seems to have stolen all the ambition.” 

You roll your eyes. You never had a thirst for power, or status, or influence, or any of that. Your power came from behind a blaster, when your focus was trained on a single target and your finger was glued to the trigger. One simple twitch of a muscle, and you could end a life from miles away. That was your power, and it was all you needed.

He is right about Anakin, you have to admit. He was always looking to be better, not just for himself, but for the good of others. You love that about it, in fact it’s one of your favorite qualities about him. Sometimes, though, you wished he could see that he didn’t have to try so hard all the time to believe he was enough.

The blast of cold air that hits you as you enter the senate building wrenches you out of your thoughts. It whisks away the perspiration that had built up on your skin, cooling your body and calming your mood almost magically. The sounds of your collective footsteps tap along the glossy marble floor, echoing throughout the empty chamber.

“Aren’t you going to ask what we’re doing here?” Clovis leans against his podium, marked with a nametag spelling his name. Next to him is your seat, and on Clovis’s other side is Padme, followed by Anakin on the end. A cold dread fills your veins, just now realizing how boring tonight’s debate is going to be.

You sigh inwardly, tracing the engravings of your nametag with the tip of your finger. “My job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to observe.” 

“Well, observe away,” he pushes himself off the podium. “Although I don’t think it will be very entertaining.”

He’s right. You sit in your seat, legs crossed on top of your podium as you inspect your nails. It’s been three hours since you’ve arrived, the sun is setting, and all Clovis has done is stroll around the debate room, muttering to himself and pondering through his position. You’re bored out of your mind. Pulling out your holocom, you wonder if Anakin’s situation is any better.

“Y/n?” he picks up a long moment after you send the call, and his face projects blue before you. It’s loud where he is, and his eyes are looking at something else.

“Where are you?” you question. He sounds like he’s a party, but you know that can’t be true. “Where’s Padme?”

“She’s with me,” Anakin tilts his head, signalling that she’s sitting in front of him. “We’re at a restaurant getting dinner. I was just going to ask-- did you and Clovis go somewhere to eat yet?”

You drop your legs from the podium and lean in close to the com, speaking quiet so Clovis can’t hear. “No, he’s barely said a word to me since we got here. He’s been walking around the debate room all afternoon, just talking to himself.”

“You think he’s nervous for tonight?”

“Maybe,” you spare a glance at him. He’s staring at the domed ceiling, as if he’s counting the pillars coming out of it. “Or maybe he’s just psycho.”

“Oh, Clovis knows what he’s doing,” a femine voice interjects. Anakin’s eyes shoot forward again, immediately smiling as Padme speaks. “His pre-debate ritual is long and gruelling-- I should have warned you. He’s simply getting into his headspace, that’s all.”

“How long does it usually take?” you mumble.

“It shouldn’t be much longer. Make sure he eats beforehand, otherwise he’ll be crabby during the debate. And trust me, you don’t want to have to handle a crabby Clovis.”

Both Padme and Anakin laugh at this, and you force yourself to smile along. “Yeah, I’ll go see what he’s up to now.”

“Good,” Anakin says, momentarily drowned out by an uproar of cheers behind him. “We should get going, too. Padme needs to get dressed for the debate. See you soon.”

Anakin ends the call, and you’re left wondering how exactly the topic of dressing Padme came up. 

Shoving down your irritation and self-pity, you pocket your com and stand from your seat. Clovis’s head whips toward you like you had pulled a blaster on him.

“What?”

“It’s getting late,” you stretch your arms over your head, working out the kinks and aches from sitting so long. “I was wondering if you were hungry at all.”

“I can’t eat before a debate,” Clovis looks almost angry for a second, and then he glances down at his watch. His expression smooths into one of urgency. “Ah, we should head to the apartments. It’s time to get ready.”

The night is still warm, and the sidewalk drips with a rainstorm that you missed while you were in the senate building. The fresh air is nice, though, and you breathe in the smell of sweet flowers and savory restaurant food. The grumble in your stomach is hard to ignore, but you know you’ll manage.

Clovis leads you all the way to his suite, the temporary apartment that sits in conjunction with yours and Anakin’s, and Padme’s on the other side. Staying in this apartment complex made more sense rather than finding separate housing units, as keeping everyone together would aid in ensuring their safety.

Padme’s mansion would have been a nice stay, you think, but these apartment sweets are also quite luxurious. You walk into the master bedroom to find a formal, dark blue gown laid out for you on the bed. Next to it is a rumpled space where you assume Anakin’s suit had been, but instead there’s a note and a box.

Padme wanted to get to the senate building early, so we’re probably going to just miss you. Too bad, I won’t get to help you into this sexy blue dress. Maybe I can help you out of it later.

You laugh softly, smoothing your thumb over the inked-on smiley face before finishing the note.

I’m not sure if you had time to get anything to eat, so I got you something while we were out. See you soon.

A

You don’t need an “I love you” scrawled into the paper in order to know he wanted to add it. That would have been too risky, and there was no way you’d be able to make an excuse if anyone were to find it. Still, you rip up the note and throw it in the trash before opening the box underneath. Your nose is instantly filled with the smell of food, still warm, and you sit next to the blue dress, digging in unceremoniously.

You scarf down as much of the food as you can and then store the rest in the fridge before getting to work on making yourself presentable. You have to look put together, yet not so much that you stand out. You slip a couple of silver clasps into your hair and do your makeup, opting for a bold lip color because you don’t have much time to do anything fancy with your eyes. You’re running short on time-- you know this because of the knock on your door, and then the irritated sound of Clovis:

“Y/n, we have to leave now or we’re going to be late. You know how bad it would be to arrive late to this event?”

You stand in front of the mirror, desperately reaching behind you to grasp at the zipper of your dress. It would be so much easier if Anakin was here to reach it for you, but you make due and quickly pull it up. The dress is form-fitting and flows down into a puddle around your feet. A bit long, as you opted not to wear heels in case something went awry, so you bunch the skirt up in your fists and jog to the door.

“My apologies,” you open the door to find Clovis, now dressed in a pristine black and white suit with his hair gelled back. “I was making sure I had my equipment all in order.”

Clovis ignores your excuse, eyes instantly moving to take in your figure. You could swear they blow open wide for a fraction of a second before he composes himself, clearing his throat and masking his approval with his usual grim expression.

“You clean up quite elegantly. Now, we should head to the lobby, the limousine is waiting for us.”

…

You’re not sure what the point of a limousine is, as the walk from the apartment buildings to the senate building is 10 minutes tops. Probably for formalities, you decide, as Clovis helps you out of the vehicle. The building that had been vacant only a couple hours earlier is now swarming with Senators, all dressed in lavish, extravagant gowns. Everyone is holding a flute of some sort of drink, and they congregate in small groups, making small talk before the debate starts. 

Clovis wastes no time with socializing, and beelines for his seat.

You hang back, searching the crowd for Anakin. Without heels, many people tower over you and it’s hard to focus with the deafening sound of chatter filling your ears. But you’re trained for this, have spent your whole life blocking out the unnecessary, so you hone into your patience and scan the crowd closer. 

There.

You’d recognize that head of golden-brown curls anywhere, even if it was tamed down for this event. He’s standing tall among the Senators, eyes gleaming bright as he engages a whole crowd of them in some wily story. He and Padme look at each other and laugh, his hand on her shoulder and her hand finding his waist. Your blood suddenly turns hot, and you push your way through the crowd to make it to them.

If you could, you would march right up and pull him away from all those greedy stares. They’re practically drooling all over him, and Padme’s hand is still on his waist. But you know better-- you can’t let anyone know you and Anakin are familiar, so you stand at the edge of the crowd, meeting Anakin’s eye.

You glare at his face, then at Padme’s hand, then back to him. His eyes narrow into a warning, extremely fleeting, and then he continues on charming the crowd. You know what he wanted to say-- it means nothing. It doesn’t stop the heat from blossoming in the pit of your stomach, the irritated glare you shoot Padme before looking down.

Way to stay under the radar, you think, slipping away from the crowd and deciding it’s better to keep your eyes on Clovis than get angry over a move on your boyfriend that was probably innocent. 

Clovis is sitting at his seat, still as stone, surveying the crowd before him.

“You nervous?” you take your seat beside him.

“Not at all.”

“Good. You’ve been preparing all afternoon, I think it’d be ridiculous if you still doubted yourself.”

“You… have faith in me.”

“Of course,” your eyes softened at the vulnerability in his statement. “You’re a powerful Senator.”

He huffed, the crack in his green eyes immediately cementing over. “I know.”

And, there he is. Back to being gruff and dismissive. 

It’s quiet for a moment longer, but you’re okay with that. Small talk is not an interest of yours either, and you’d much rather sip on the flute of drink that a servant had given you than join the crowd on the floor. 

Unfortunately, you have trouble wrenching your eyes away from Padme and Anakin, who are still surrounded by drooling Senators. Padme looks like an angel, dressed in a floor length gown spun out of gold thread that you’re pretty sure came directly from the sun. It shimmers and sparkles as she moves, standing out like a beacon of light among the rest of the room. She is radiant, with a matching headpiece that glitters like a chandelier, the jewels braided in and out of her chocolate curls. Even her makeup is minimal yet blindingly beautiful, with a gold shimmer staining her eyelids and cheekbones that reflect the warmth of her topaz eyes.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Clovis murmurs next to you, so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

“Who? Padme?”

“I believe she’s taking quite a liking to the Jedi.”

Heat sparks in your blood again. The fact that even Clovis notices how handsy Padme is being… then again, it’s a known fact that Clovis and Padme have a history, and he could just be reading too far into things out of jealousy.

“You shouldn’t call him that,” you choose to ignore his concerns. “Anyone could be listening.”

“You see that smile? That’s the smile she only ever gave me. I wonder if she even knows she’s doing it…”

“Clovis, Anakin isn’t allowed to form attachments. You have nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not him that bothers me,” he admits. “It’s her. Look. Look at the way she leans into him when she laughs.”

You take his advice and… now that he says it, she does get a little too close for your liking. Every time Anakin finishes a punchline, the crowd erupts in laughter and Padme joins in, bracing herself by gripping onto his arms and grinning into his neck. He catches her, ever the gentlemen, but he’s smiling too.

It’s a little more than innocent, and you can’t tell who’s fault it is. But that doesn’t help the jealousy steadily rising in your chest.

“The debate should be starting soon,” is all you say, leaning back in your seat and scowling into your flute of drink.

The only thing keeping you rooted to the seat instead of launching out of your chair to rip Padme away from Anakin by the hair was the fact that you know you’re the one who’s going to be sharing a bed with him tonight-- not her. 

You’re just hoping he even makes it back to your bed. Or will poor Padme need help with something else that requires Anakin’s doting attention?

A bell rings just on time, signaling for the Senators to take their seats. Anakin leads Padme over, arms hooked around each other, and she smiles at you as she approaches.

“Y/n, you look wonderful,” she whispers, and then slides into the seat between Clovis and Anakin.

Your cheeks burn in shame. How can you harbor such awful feelings toward her when she was so sweet? But the anger is worsened by the compliment she had just given you-- it’s one thing to be drop-dead stunning, why does she have to be so kind, too? What are you to compare? 

After tonight, Anakin’s probably going to think you are so difficult-- always complaining, always tired, never as pretty or gentle or kind. You don’t have a laugh that twinkles like wind-chimes, or eyes that reflect the light like soft glowing pools of honey. If she is the sun, you are just a cold, hard, chunk of ashen moonrock.

The debate goes on for an eternity. You zone out for a lot of it, stewing in your anger and drowning in self-deprecating thoughts. A few times you’re brought to the brink of tears before you remind yourself you’re here on a mission, and throw yourself into scanning every nook and cranny for something that could be amiss. Eventually, a break is ordered.

Senators begin to rise from their podiums to stretch their legs, including Padme. She tells Anakin she’s going to the washroom, and your eyes zero in on the fingers lingering on his arm as she leaves. You stand as well, meaning to walk a little and stretch your legs, and Anakin follows you.

“Padme’s right,” he catches up to you easily. “You do look wonderful. Blue really is your color.”

You stop by the open window, breathing in the fresh air as you search his eyes for truth. Does he truly mean it? Does he look at you with that same light he had looked at Padme with? Or is he only saying it because he has to? Because he’s used to complimenting you because you’re his girlfriend?

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you lower your gaze, picking at the marble stone engravings of the windowsill. 

“Y/n,” Anakin lowers his voice. He’s concerned now, picking up on how upset you are. “I said you look beautiful. What’s the problem?” “No, you said I look wonderful. It’s different than beautiful.” You mean to leave it there, but  can’t help but add, grumbling under your breath, “Padme looks beautiful.”

It’s immature. You know it as soon as you say it, but for some reason you can’t stop yourself. You just want Anakin to take more notice of how strong Padme’s coming on to him, to assure you that it means nothing. You know it means nothing, but you still need that confirmation.

“She does,” he says, and your heart drops. You look up at him, and he’s staring back with an intensity you can’t decipher. “She’s a Senator, Y/n, this is her debate. Of course she has to look beautiful.”

“She’s more beautiful,” the words fall from your lips and taste like poison.

“What’s this about?” Anakin’s voice is dripping in irritation. Once hearing it himself, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he speaks again in a softer tone. “Why are you comparing yourself to Padme?”

Gah, even the sound of her name coming from his mouth is like nails on a chalkboard. But you decide to do the first smart thing you have all evening, and take a lesson from him. You breathe deeply and bite down on your anger before answering.

“I’m not trying to,” you admit, eyes falling from his face to trace the exposed skin of his neck. “I just-- she’s flirting with you.”

“It’s harmless.”

“I-- I know. But…”

“It still bothers you. You’re jealous.”

“I have nothing to be jealous about,” even saying this, you can hear the lie in your voice. You repeat the statement, more to yourself, trying to believe it. He’s yours-- for now. He could just as easily be Padme’s. What if he wants to be Padme’s? 

“Look,” Anakin takes another grounding breath, then fits a finger beneath your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “I can see you’re trying to think rationally, so I’m not going to tell you that you’re being ridiculous. But… you’re being ridiculous.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“You have to understand, I do not like Padme like you’re thinking. I--” he cuts himself off, eyes flitting around the room before leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “I love you.”

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin, making you shiver. His lips ghosting over your ear, the whispered promise of his devotion to you… suddenly, you feel very stupid.

“Okay,” you accept, and the bells ring again, signalling everyone to take their seats. You head on over with him, but not before putting as much heart into your next words. “I’m sorry for getting jealous.”

“It’s okay,” he gives you the first warm smile of the night, smoothing your hair down quickly before breaking off to take his own seat.

You sit next to Clovis, considerably calmer, replaying Anakin’s whispered “I love you” over and over in your head, the touch of his gentle hand in your hair. There was no need to make such a fuss, and honestly you were upset with yourself for ruining the night. You decide to make another smart decision for the night, and push away all of the negative thoughts to the deepest corner of your mind. No more, not tonight-- instead, you would focus on a way to make it up to him for being so ridiculous, and to thank him for being so patient with you.

It’s as you’re planning the rest of your night out, that you see Clovis’s knee bouncing under the podium. You know his time to speak is coming up soon, and his actions betray his mind. He’s such a liar. He is nervous.

“You’ve got this,” you tell him, reaching onto the podium to give his hand a squeeze. His palms are clammy, and he looks at you like you’ve struck him.

“I know I do,” he spits, but doesn’t move his hand from underneath yours. “It’s just pre-performance jitters.”

His next words are so quiet, you almost don’t catch them.

“It doesn’t help that I have two gorgeous women sitting next to me to witness this all.”

Now it’s your turn to look like you’ve been struck. You know he means for you to hear it, otherwise he wouldn’t have said it. Anakin seems to be thinking the same thing, as you can see him give Clovis a sidelong glance just as Padme takes the seat between them again.

“I-- um… we’re rooting for you,” you fumble. “No need to get nervous now.”

Clovis blows out a long breath, and then covers your hand that’s squeezing his palm with his other. “Thank you, Y/n. You’ve truly been so patient and accommodating this whole night. I must find a way to pay you back afterwards.”

“Oh, there’s no need--” your words are cut off as the delegates call for order, and then the debate resumes. You don’t miss the way Anakin’s back stiffens in his seat.

Clovis works up a nervous sweat in the minutes leading up to his speech, but when he gets up, he delivers it without a flaw. Everyone claps, and then Padme goes. You clap along once she’s finished, trying not to calculate if Anakin is clapping harder or faster for her than anyone else. He’s not… but you just had to be sure.

There never seemed to be any threat for the entire night, except for one instance. A young man stood by the door, eyes shifting around for a moment too long to be casual, and Clovis seemed to notice as well. 

“Where, exactly, is that equipment you were speaking of earlier?”

“There’s a strap on my thigh, and it holds my blaster to it. Look,” you pull your skirt back to reveal your leg up to your thigh, where the tip of your blaster peaks out. “See, nothing to worry about.”

It doesn’t even cross your mind that Anakin would notice, or that he’d even mind.

Finally, the debate ends, and the senate room is dismissed. You let out a long breath, ready to just get out of this dress and relax in the suite with Anakin now. However, you stand to leave your seat but Clovis is in your way.

“Y/n, like I said before… I must show my gratitude for your services. Please, let me buy you dinner.”

“Oh-- Oh geez… um.... I can’t,” your eyes flit from Clovis to Anakin, who’s standing behind him. He’s got his back turned, bidding farewell to the new friends he made, but you know for sure that he’s listening. “I really need to go to bed, we’re leaving early in the morning.”

“You can come to my suite, we can order room service. They’re right next to each other… besides, you can always just stay over at mine for the night. There’s room.”

That tone. Those eyes. You know what he’s insinuating, and it sure as hell isn’t just dinner. 

“Clovis, I’d love to, but I really can’t.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The green cracks of his eyes are hardening again, the soft daisies growing from them being wrenched out in clenched fists and stomped under a boot. You want to stop them from freezing over in that insufferable ice again, and decide it might be nice to humor him for a job well done tonight. After all, he was a lot kinder to you than you thought he’d ever be, and part of you likes being one of the few people on his good side.

“How about I walk back with you to the apartments? We can do that much.”

Clovis smiles, and holds out an arm. “I’ll take it.”

As Clovis escorts you out of the debate room, you turn to look back at Anakin. He’s ushering Padme out of the crowds, staring after you as you leave. He doesn’t smile, or wave, or do anything really. Except look angry. 

A sudden ball of nervousness forms in the pit of your stomach. Oh no. Offering to do this was a mistake, that much is becoming clear with every step you take with Clovis latched onto your arm. You can feel Anakin’s eyes burning into your back the entire way out of the senate building, until you’re on the streets of Naboo and he’s off in a limousine with Padme. 

Of course he’s going to be angry at you now. You were mad at him for allowing Padme to flirt with him, and now he’s going to think you’re making a move on Clovis to get back at him for it. Even though that’s not at all what’s happening… Oh how the tables have turned. 

You’re jittery the whole walk back. Clovis tries to make conversation, but you only offer him short, clipped answers. Really, you should have shut down his advances in the debate room. No matter that you pitied him for being rejected by Padme and yourself, you should have said no. You didn’t owe him anything. But here you are, and now you are going to suffer the consequences from Anakin when you get back to your room.

“Are you sure you can’t stop in? Not even just for a drink?” Clovis asks as you make it to the top of the stairs. You turn the corner, and Anakin is leaning against your apartment door, arms crossed, clearly waiting for you. 

“Uhh,” you unwind your arm from around Clovis’s. “I really can’t. Sorry.”

Clovis follows your gaze, and sees Anakin. His tone turns steely. “Is it because of that Jedi?”

“No, oh my-- no!” you feign the most incredulous expression you can, nerves growing more frenzied as you grow closer to your apartment door. “I really am just so tired. Please Clovis, I have to go.”

“Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like this--”

“You’re right,” a deep voice cuts in. “It doesn’t.” 

Anakin takes the arm that Clovis refused to let go of, and slips it out of his grasp. Thankfully, for Clovis’s sake, he lets him. Anakin pushes you behind him and stands before Clovis, towering over him by a couple inches. 

“It was a pleasure serving you and Senator Amidala. Hopefully we can work together again soon. Have a good night”

Each word that comes from his lips are dripping with venom. Clovis grows red in the face, and you can tell he’s trying hard not to retaliate. In the end, he decides to turn and stalk back to his own apartment door. 

Once it slams shut, Anakin turns to you. You meet his eyes with the most innocent expression you can put on.

“None of that,” he hisses, and steps past you to walk into the apartment.

“Oh, come on!” you follow close behind, closing the door and jogging to catch up with him. He’s standing before the bed, roughly loosening his tie. “Anakin, please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Really? How am I supposed to believe that after what happened earlier?”

“Yes, okay, I admit I was jealous of you and Padme. But I got over it! I swear I wasn’t trying to get you back for it, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Anakin pulls the buttons off his shirt so hard, you’re afraid they might break. Suddenly, he is shirtless, and so very mad, and so very tall… and muscular… and… wow…

“You can’t even look me in the eye when you say that,” he argues, stopping to stand before you. You wrench your eyes away from his toned midriff and meet his eyes, which are blazing with hurt and anger. A warmth is rising in your veins-- a different kind than earlier-- but it’s beat out with something stronger. Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, trying so desperately to ignore the heat that’s radiating off his chest. “I really am. Clovis was just… kinder than I expected him to be--”

“Was he? Was he kind when he had you sit in silence all afternoon in the senate building? Was he kind when he refused to let you eat? When he guilt-tripped you into spending time with him?”

“That’s not exactly what happened,” you cross your arms and size him up. “And you’re not totally innocent either, you know.”

“Really?” Anakin cocks an eyebrow at you, sitting down on the bed roughly. He leans back on his arms, daring you to continue.

“You let Padme flirt with you, and you never told her to stop. You could have set some boundaries, told her to back off a little...”

“And you could have told me you were leaving with Clovis before gathering your skirts and skipping away,” Anakin bites back. 

“I wasn’t planning to! Anakin, please, both of us made mistakes tonight. Can we just agree on that?”

He frowns, eyes flickering over your still-dressed form. He motions for you to come closer and turn around, so you do. Gentle fingers work at the zip on your back, dragging it down to free you from the constraints. You remember the note he wrote from earlier, how he couldn’t wait to take the dress off of you, and grow disappointed at how the night had gone. This was not the context you had been expecting. 

The way his hands linger on your waist, you know he’s thinking the same thing.

“Okay. We both made mistakes.” You feel his soft curls against the bare skin of your back as rests his forehead against you. You hold your dress up in the front so as not to expose yourself. “I’m sorry for letting Padme flirt with me. I should have put an end to it-- I know it hurt you to watch.”

“It did,” you whisper. “But I’m also sorry. For getting so jealous even though you never accepted her advances, and for making it seem like I was trying to get revenge. It wasn’t my intention.”

A soft “it’s okay” is kissed into your back. His hands grip your waist, turning you in his grasp. He’s looking up at you now, hair mussed up and eyes wary. “You good?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

What were you guys doing? At the end of the day, it’s you and him. Padme is out of the picture, and so is Clovis. Everything is alright, and that fuss you both put up throughout the night was virtually pointless.

Looking into his eyes, the ones you love so much and could never picture yourself ever parting from, suddenly this whole thing seems elementary. How terrible, disastrous, and ironic this night turned out. Replaying the events in your head, you find a smile begin to crack at your lips. Anakin can’t keep a straight face either, the ridiculousness of it all beginning to catch up with you both. You begin to laugh, and he follows, burying his head in your stomach as you hug around his neck.

“We must be back in training school,” you giggle, feeling his shoulders shake beneath you. “How pathetic of us.”

“Ahh,” he groans, suddenly wrenching you off your feet and onto the bed on top of him. He nuzzles his face into your neck, pulling you as close to him as possible. “Let’s just forget this night ever happened. It was dreadful and embarrassing.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I was never even here.”

“Me neither,” he presses a line of warm kisses down your neck, stopping at the strap of your dress. “Let’s get this off. Do you still have your blaster on you?”

You pat the metal strapped onto your thigh. “Locked and loaded.”

“Well, gee, thanks for telling me. I definitely didn’t want to get my head blown off.”

“Safety’s on, wisecrack,” you help him shrug your dress off, kicking it from your legs and off the end of the bed. You unclasp the band from around your thigh and distribute the blaster onto the nightstand. 

“I’m the wisecrack,” you don’t miss the way Anakin’s voice deepens, attention suddenly captured by the bare skin of your body beneath him. His eyes follow the path his fingers are tracing up your leg. “Careful, or I’ll have to report that to the Council.”

“For what? Being right?”

“For creating conflict of interest on the job,” his fingers skim the soft flesh of your upper thighs, tickling their way past the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, up and up and up… “It’s terribly naughty of you.”

His words are teasing and corny, but somehow the deeper insinuation of them still cause your cheeks to burn red. 

“Anakin,” your voice is hoarse, causing your blush to deepen. His long fingers cup your chin, keeping your lips ghost over his as his other hand pulls the silver clasps from your hair. “I need a shower.”

“I can meet you in there?”

You clutch at his shoulders, bringing him forward to close that gap between your lips. His mouth is warm against yours, pliant and soft and generous. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for all night, all this time you’ve been apart. The smell of him, taste of him, feel of him— you could never get enough. 

“I’ll save you a spot.” 

[tedsprestonesq]

Vocabulary Lessons

by tedsprestonesq for @gayeddiemunson as part of the Hawkins Holiday Exchange.

[Image Description: A digital drawing of Will Byers, Jonathan Byers, and Eleven Hopper-Byers in Jonathan's sedan. Will, a white teenage boy with a brunette bowl cut, says, "So, when someone's lying, you say, "bullshit,"" from his place in the backseat. Eleven, a white teenage girl with wavy brown hair and a yellow button up, echoes, "BULLSHIT!" Jonathan, an older teen with a brown bowl cut, driving, says, "Oh my god." End ID.]

Fic below cut.

Joyce Byers was about ready to disown her children. After four days of driving, with yet another left to go before they reached California, Eleven had learned a whole new vocabulary. And Joyce knew just who to blame.

As they sat in a rundown diner attached to an even more rundown motel somewhere in the Nevada desert, Joyce hooked her evil eye into Will.

"Will, have you and El been studying in the car like I told you to?"

Will looked up from his spaghetti, mouth full, and nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"What have you been studying?"

He swallowed his food. "Mostly science." He looked beside him at El, eating her waffles and ignoring their conversation with equally dedicated fervor. "Why does this feel like an interrogation?"

Jonathan coughed. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," he said, slipping away from the table with unusual dexterity.

"I'm just wondering," Joyce mused, her voice decidedly measured, "who taught your dear sister how to use the words 'shit' and 'damn' in nearly every sentence."

Will's face filled with guilt in an instant. No poker face, that kid. "Well, Dustin certainly helped," he said. "And I mean, that boyfriend of hers, he's a really bad influence."

Eleven shot a glare at Will, matched by a kick to the shins that no rickety diner table could hide from Joyce.

Joyce scoffed. "Not gonna fly, buster. Eight hours in the car with you, and all of the sudden the kid curses like a sailor."

"I don't even curse that much! And Jonathan was in the car, too!"

"Will Byers, stop deflecting. Did you or did you not teach your sister a half dozen variations of the word 'shit?'"

He sighed. "Technically, I think it was a full dozen. But she asked!"

"You're such a pain, sometimes."

He grimaced. "Sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "Eleven," she called, rousing her from her syrup-soaked waffles.

As she looked up, startled as she so easily was, Eleven's elbow hit the edge of her plate. It flipped over onto the ground, her half-eaten waffles sailing through the air beside it. The mess landed on the dirty tile floor, unbroken yet undeniably ruined.

"Motherfucker!" she swore.

"Eleven!" Joyce scolded, eyes ping-ponging between the two teens, Eleven looking guilty, Will affronted. "Will!"

"But Mom! That one wasn't me!" Will whined.

"Actually," Jonathan piped up, returning from the bathroom, "that one's my bad."

She whipped around. "Jonathan!"

[shyvioletcat]

for striking matches au: "It looks like you have more fun with them than with me."

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Here’s a little bit of Firefighter fun for your day.

Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

Rowan sat slumped on the couch, arms crossed across his chest as he waited for Aelin to finish getting ready. It had taken him minutes to get ready, with his dark jeans and button up white shirt, a pair of lensless glasses frames tucked into the chest pocket. They were going to a Halloween party at Aedion and Lysandra’s place, and very honestly, Rowan didn’t want to go.

He and Aelin had only been going out for just a little over a month and he had met her family and friends a few times, but they definitely weren’t his friends yet. He knew what would happen tonight once they got to the party, and he would be left with two choices. One, he could follow Aelin around the whole night as she lit up the room and thrived on all the social interactions. Or two, he’d sit in a corner with a beer and watch. Considering that he’d just come off a hard shift, Rowan was feeling more inclined to do the second. The subject of him staying behind had been broached but Aelin wasn’t having it. She said it would ruin their ‘matching’ costumes and added that her friends wanted to spend more time with him. So of course Rowan relented for her. Only her.

“Alright, ready,” Aelin sang as she appeared from her bedroom. She was wearing a long black coat and a pair of black boots, her golden hair in soft waves with the ends chalked a vibrant red.

“You’re wearing that?” Rowan asked, not bothering to get up yet.

Aelin grinned at him. “No, I”m wearing this.”

She opened her jacket to show him what was underneath, and Rowan felt his eyes go wide. Aelin had decided on their costumes, they were going to the party dressed as each other professions. Rowan’s costume had been all too easy to put together, all he had to buy was a pair of cheap glasses from the discount store and pop the lenses out. Aelin had bought the entirety of hers new, unless by some design of fate she had this firefighter costume lying around. But Rowan seriously doubted that.

His eyes started at the black boots she wore – and maybe he had seen those before – but her long legs were mostly bare except for a small pair of black shorts with a trim of red on the legs and a yellow belt. A strip of her stomach was bare as well, the shirt hugged her waist and upper torso, and zip ran up the middle instead of buttons, leaving it open in a deep V as it precariously contained her cleavage. It was all topped off with a pair of suspenders that she had her thumbs hooked under as she still grinned at him.

“So, what do you think? Reckon Lorcan would let me join the team?”

Rowan blinked once before he managed to look up her face. The neckline was proving more of a distraction the longer he looked.

“Do we have to go?” Rowan blurted and Aelin tipped her head back and laughed.

“We most certainly do.” Aelin did her jacket up and grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter as well as a plastic firefighter hat. “Come on, Mr Whitethorn. Let’s go have some fun.”

Rowan was about to tell her they could have fun here, probably better fun too, but he just sighed and closed the apartment door behind him.

Aelin left her coat in the car. Rowan had parked and within seconds Aelin had deserted the car only leaving a heap of black material behind. He was quick to follow and the elevator arrived just as he got there. 

“Look at this fancy apartment building with it’s elevator,” Aelin mused as she pushed the button and then lent on the railing. “You never answered my question. You think Lorcan would let me on the team?”

Rowan turned, seeing that teasing look written on every feature of her face. “Definitely not. But that has nothing to do with the costume.”

Aelin laughed again. “You haven’t even told me if you like my costume or not. You make a very sexy Teacher if I do say so myself.”

He moved, they were chest to chest and almost touching. Then Rowan gave her a lingering once over that made Aelin breath just a little faster. Leaning in he kissed her, and he felt her smiling against his lips before she fully committed to it. The only sound was the mechanisms of the elevator, then there was the definitive sound of a zipper being pulled.

Aelin let out a comical gasp. “Mr Whitethorn, keep your hands to yourself.” 

Rowan chuckled and kissed her again, quickly, and stepped away, hands raised. 

“I was wondering how long it would take you, that was damn near obscene,” Aelin laughed, readjusting her suspenders.

He hadn’t been pulling the down, he’d been pulling it up to try and give him a little more peace of mind when he walked into the party. It was a stupid, jealous thing to do, and he expected Aelin to rip into him for it. But he was mistaken, it was all a ploy from Aelin to get his attention it seemed. The elevator arrived at the right floor and she pulled his glasses from his pocket, slipping them onto his nose before grabbing his hand and leading them out. They walked down the hallway, arriving at a door with music pulsing behind it. Aelin didn’t bother knocking and walked in, almost running into the hostess herself. Lysandra was dressed as Red Riding Hood, a bright red cape over a short green dress.

“You made it!” She nearly yelled as she hugged Aelin, obviously already a little drunk. Then her green eyes landed on him. “Nice lipstick, Rowan.”

Confused, Rowan rubbed at his mouth, his fingers coming away red. He gave Aelin an accusing look but she just grinned and rubbed away what was left of the lipstick.

“You look great,” Lysandra said, then she pointed between them. “I get it. You’re dressed as each other. Clever.”

“Thank you,” Aelin said, tucking into Rowan’s side. “Where’s Aeds?”

Lysandra waved behind her. “Somewhere. You guys have fun, now!” 

She was gone through the crowd and Rowan held onto Aelin’s hand as she led them to the drinks. He spotted Elide and a few other familiar faces, but overall there were a lot of people hadn’t seen before. Aelin waved to people she recognised, saying hello here and there, but she never let go of him. She found him a stool in a corner, letting him sit while she leaned into his chest. Aedion eventually found them, as did Elide and Lysandra, the women begging Aelin to come dance but she declined. 

Rowan could tell that she wanted to, so he leant forward and kissed her cheek. “Go have fun love, I’m fine here.”

She turned to face him then said hopefully. “You could always come dance with me.”

“I don’t think so,” Rowan said, shaking his head. 

Aelin pouted at him but she didn’t push him. “I’ll be back soon I promise.”

True to her word Aelin came back after a few dances, Rowan’s eyes had been drinking her in the whole time and she made sure to send him flirty smiles as she did. That costume combined with the way she moved was nearly driving him insane. But soon after she arrived she was dragged off again for a game of beer pong with Aedion. As a team the two cousins were unstoppable and by the time she wandered back to Rowan again she was definitely a little tipsy. She threw her arms around his neck, leaning fully into him.

“Come dance with me, please?” Aelin begged. 

That smile was almost his undoing but then a voice he actually recognised sounded from behind her.

“There you are. Not surprised to see you hiding in a corner, Whitethorn.”

Looking up Rowan saw Fenrys and Aelin turned to face him as well. 

“You made it!” She exclaimed.

It was then that Rowan took in exactly what Fenrys was wearing… or not wearing. He had worn most of his work uniform, just about everything except his shirt. Even with the jacket over the top Rowan could tell that he’s taken care to oil up his bare chest beneath, only ever so slightly covered by his suspenders. He lent his elbow on Aelin’s shoulder, and looking at the two of them they were the ones that looked like they had come dressed to match.

Fenrys tilted his head. “Who are you supposed to be? Clark Kent?”

Rowan crossed his arms over his chest but it was Aelin who answered. “No he’s a teacher. You get it?”

“Oh, yep yep. I get it,” Fenrys said nodding. “You’ve swapped professions. And, might I just say Miss Galathynius, you make a fine firefighter.” 

Aelin shoved him. “Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

Getting a drink turned into a few dances, followed by a game of magnetic darts and then at least three songs worth of awful karaoke. In between the activities Aelin and Fenrys wandered away from each other, but always seemed to find the other again. At one point Fenrys came over to drop off his jacket now that he was getting a little warm, Rowan had even rolled his sleeves up to his elbows for a little relief.

Rowan fixed his coworker with a look. “You know you’re not supposed to wear your uniform outside of work.”

Fenrys’ reply was a shrug and a grin.

“You look like a stripper,” Rowan added and Fenrys let out an incredulous laugh.

“We all gotta live a little sometimes,” Fenrys said before disappearing to Aelin’s side again.

Rowan felt himself getting more sullen by the second, watching how Aelin and Fenrys smiled and had fun together. It was moments like this that Rowan wished he was more… sociable. More willing to put himself out there in situations like this, but instead he was sitting in a dark corner by himself, with only Fenrys’ jacket for company. Aelin wandered back to him, her hands immediately going to his face to make her look at him.

“What is it?” She asked him.

“It’s nothing,” Rowan said and she tried to shake Aelin off but she kept hold of him and just lent in closer.

“What. Is. It.”

Rowan sighed. “It looks like you have more fun with him than with me.”

Aelin smirked. “And him meaning Fenrys.”

Rowan nodded.

That smirk turned into a coy smile and she slotted herself between his legs, his hands finding her waist. “Well maybe if you got off this stool and came out to play.”

Rowan started to frown but Aelin kept his attention. “Hey, I’m kidding. I get it. Funny thing is that I invited him so you would have someone to talk to. Maybe I should have invited Lorcan instead, except he’d never say yes to me.” Rowan managed a laugh at that. “And I definitely don’t have more fun with Fen, trust me.” Aelin added earnestly.

“It certainly looks like it,” Rowan grumbled.

Aelin slid that much closer, her mouth right by his ear. “Oh yeah? Well, would I ever let him…”

She whispered in his ear, so close the breath that accompanied her words tickled his skin, making him break out in goosebumps. They were words that described something obscene about sliding on fire poles, on his fire pole to be exact. When she pulled away Aelin’s smile was feline and Rowan felt his cheeks heat.

“Can we go now, please?” Rowan’s voice was nowhere near as smooth or confident as he wanted it to be.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Aelin said. Rowan stood and went to take his glasses off but Aelin stopped him, her hands running up his arms to where his sleeves were rolled up. “You’ll be leaving those on. All night, if you please, Mr Whitethorn.” 

~~~~~

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this silliness. 

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[terrible-fanfiction-of-course]

All thanks to you

Lila sits in her room rewriting the latest chapter of her novel, A novel she started when she transferred to (school name). As she finished, she mused on the best part that had yet to come. You see, Lila is a writer who loves being inspired by life. She doesn’t mind trying to create her inspiration, also known as manipulating people. Lila moves so often that it been a hobby for some time now, Lila had long given up on actually forming real bonds with people. It never works out and she usually would have to move soon after. 

Lila daydreams about the first days of this school initially she wanted to try and write a romance novel about two people from different worlds type of thing when that got ruined fast. Hence, she assumed her inspiration would become someone having to deal with having a wrong first impression and coping with bullying, so she avoided school for a while, and strangely when she came back, no one else knew she was a liar. And her lies were not smart. It would have been too easy to figure her out, yet these people believed every word she said, barring that Marinette character. Marinette was prefect; she created such a beautiful chance at her favorite genre of writing. Tragedy. She loves tragedy, she loves the aspect of seeing a story play out, and with only a few decisions seeing something that could be a happily ever after turn so terrible. Lila realizes that this makes her a terrible person she just doesn’t care, at least she will come out and say it. when she wants to. but for now she wants to think about Marinette 

Marinette was the prefect protagonists or I guess victim, I so easily turned all her friends against shifts the aspect and comfort she took from those people and even poisoned her own thoughts about them. To the point, she chose a healthier life and has moved on mostly, cutting all of those too stupid and greedy to see through the thin veneer of my lies before it was too late. And while she didn’t leave without a few emotional scars, she will be all the better in the end. Marinette, my wonderful protagonist, had her ending. But the tragedy aspect of the story is no longer just hers. An epilogue is in order for those left.

The players who made this whole drama come to life deserve to know what there just deserts are. As Lila finishes typing up Marinette’s new ending, she stands up and gets to gathering items she has been buying and saving for months. Being a part-time model did help with this, but she doesn’t think she would want to continue with this. Modeling was tedious, and so was Adrien. So dull that she is almost glad that her romance novel failed so fast, she has a feeling that she would have had to scrap it anyway. Anyhow she got to finishing warping all her gifts for her wonderful classmates. Monday would be an exciting class. She had already convinced her naive teacher to be out of the classroom for her show. She can’t for the life of her recall what lie she used for this but it’s unimportant as she finished her preparations and snuggles up to bed and falls asleep. Monday comes around as Lila gets up early and makes her way to school with giant bags of presents. She made it to class first; she places all the gifts on each desk. She then makes her hidden cameras were well hidden and video set up.  She sits on the teacher’s desk and waits, and as her classmates come inside, she tells them that she has a surprise but not to open the present till the end. As everyone gets to their sits and looks so excited and happy and really why shouldn’t they be? They don’t know what about to happen to the perception of reality. The only desk with no gift was Chloe a very surprising character indeed, she made for a beautiful and unexpected redemption arch, she sits in her seat and simply glares at me. I smile sheepishly and once everyone is settled. I start my spiel. “Hello everyone, today I wanted to thank you so much for all that you have done. If it weren’t for you all, none of this would have been possible. I’m going to play this video and I just need you all to watch to the end thank you as Lila leaves the room and goes to an empty classroom to watch from the cameras she had set up earlier in the morning. The video starts with Rose, “Rose I wanted to thank you. You saw me as a friend and trusted me so fast, you were so able to gather all the girls like no other and because of you, Marinette understood that none of her ‘friends’ really cared about her anymore” Lila makes sure to air quotes, in the video, the word friends of course. She had seen true and real pure friendship and this class didn’t cut it. Rose and really the whole class seem to turn from happy and thankful to shock as she continued to speak, and Adrien looked the sickest of them all. But seemingly too shocked to stop her speech. “Of and Juleka I also have to thank you for being so willing I believe everything I said and making sure Marinette couldn’t get comfort from your big brother of yours it really helped the isolation aspect that you completely turned everyone outside of school against her but really I guess I can give credit to everyone for that” Lila blow a big kiss to room and flips her hair back. This unforcedly seems to break them from there stupor and Rose stood and said “I-I didn’t do that! I just wanted Marinette to go back to being a good friend why would you say such things?!” and Juleka says more quietly “Marinette did so many terrible things I didn’t want my brother getting involved in the wrong crowd” she seems to tremble like the weight of saying her words are too much. Lila having seen this coming had set up the video to say “now calm down, I have a reason for saying all this, and I promise everything will be clear in the end, while everything may seem bad to you now I promise by the end you’ll have new clarity about everything.” this rather surprisingly seems to calm them down. Though I have the sneaking thought that the present in front of them was an excellent positive investment to say silent for just a while longer.

 I start going through everyone involved with making Marinette miserable, some of the highlight being Kim looking somewhat ashamed when he and Alix pushed Marinette down the stair multiple times and Max and Sabrina made sure to get the taps erased every time. Their expression was of a child being scolded for something they didn’t think was wrong. Which made sense they still thought of Marinette as a bully a terrine person. They didn’t seem to understand why I brought all this up. And why I was adding you chose and did this with no instruction from anymore else to the statements. The build-up was killing Lila and looked like it was killing Adrien as well. Oh, to see him squirmed was such fun.  From her classroom, she laughed and kept recording there reactions. So much fun really. But before we get to the fun of causing a spineless boy to squirm their video goes over Alya’s involvement of her so-called ‘my best friend’ “Alya oh Alya you were always there for me, guarding me and making sure Marinette stayed in her place. Calling her a jealous bitched and completely disregarding anything she tried to tell you while also still trying to take advance of free babysitting and free clothes and pasties usually on the same day you make her cry.” Alya’s face was red she stands up to start yelling she had a betrayed expression on her face. “Girl what are you saying? I was defending you from a bully!” The class nodded in agreement. And Chloe starts to laugh “Really are you all this ridiculously stupid??? She is literally telling you how you fucked up and you still can’t take responsibility” Chloe said expression of sadness and slight disgust as she stares at them. While Lila didn’t like the interruptions to her spicy video she let it slide as it gave pause time for people to scream for a good ten seconds. “we still have one more person because I can finish my little speech.” past Lila said with a wink. She then speaks to Adrien I wanted to thank you most! If you had gas-lighted Marinette into staying silent and then totally abandoning her when supporting her would have been a widdle bit hard, without your totally knowing and willing approve and support now of this would be possible.” Before the class could argue more she added “Most all of you took my side because you thought you could get something from me, you wanted to use me the same way, Marinette was going to let herself be used by you. You deemed me a more valuable asset when you found you couldn’t have both and then diluted yourselves into thinking you are the justified ones. But your wrong, because I was lying to you all about everything I said to you were totally lies.” The class seems to freeze then exploded and start yelling and freaking out, I stare at them to recall all their beautiful betrayed reactions. As they started calling me the bad guy, all I say is please open your gift and read the letters first” video Lila was explaining what the letter was because the gifts were just that useful nice gifts for the most part. Rewards for being such good suckers and throwing away their ‘good friend’ The letter was super well-documented evidence of the harassment and bullying they had all done to Marinette while Lila was in the class. It showed how they chose to do what they did. It finally seemed to sink in for them that hey had fucked up and the expressions on their faces would be so helpful to finish off her novel as the all tried to call Marinette only to discover that she was gone they have no way to get in contact with her. Truly only then had some of there actions seem to matter at all to them. They have finally expressed the loss that Lila was craving for them to feel.

[five-rivers]

Cold Case

So, this is a continuation of Interview With a Ghost, my corpse AU.  Sort of.  Lots of outsider perspective.  

But, I’m too lazy to hunt down the tumblr links.  So.  Here’s the AO3 link to the series.  

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McGee braced himself before getting out of his car and walking into the precinct.  He’d heard all the jokes before, all the mindless digs at his name, and he liked to think that he’d grown a thick skin in response, but part of him still flinched every time.  

Plus, there was a reason he’d been sent to Amity Park.  That reason being the incredibly suspicious crime rate.  That is, the just shy of nonexistent crime rate.  Also, the billionaire mayor that had popped up out of nowhere.  And the high road repair and park maintenance bills.  

Oh, yeah, and the giant murder investigation that had just.  Disappeared.

The county wanted answers.  So, they sent McGee.  Of course, they didn’t tell the Amity Park Police Department that.  As far as they knew, he was just a transfer. Someone being shifted from one department to another.  

So, yeah.  Bracing.  Just like the wind.  Ouch, it was cold.  McGee wrapped his coat more closely around himself and began jogging through the otherwise deserted parking garage.  

The… underground parking garage.  Wind?  

McGee stopped and turned in place, trying to see where the breeze could have possibly come from.  There weren’t exactly any windows down here.  

Feeling more cautious, but not knowing why, McGee made his way more slowly to the elevator door and hit the call button.  The doors opened immediately.  Inside, a speaker tried to play music, but what came out of it was mostly ear-tearing static.  

Well.  If APPD was getting paid off by a mob or the town was skimming from road funds, they certainly weren’t using their ill-gotten gains on the elevators.  

When the doors opened, McGee was hit with a blast of warm air and Christmas music.  He kept his face carefully blank.  It had only just become December, and the police station was… it was… Well. McGee would have to call it ‘decked out,’ no matter how much he abhorred the phrase.  

… Why were there so many menorahs?

“Hey, are you John McGee?”

“Yes, that’s me,” said McGee, turning to face a remarkably plain man in a button-down shirt and a pullover sweater.  

The man had a pair of novelty felt antlers on his head.  They were decorated with bells.  How unprofessional.

“I’m Collins.  We’ll probably be working together at some point.  Same department.”

“Homicide?”

Collins raised his eyebrows.  “I don’t know what you were told, but we don’t have enough homicides to warrant a dedicated homicide department.  We get a one or two mysterious deaths every month, but it always turns out to be, like, anaphylaxis or something.”  He brought a mug to his lips and sipped slowly.  “Mostly we do vice, theft, fraud, and missing persons. Not much of that last one, either. Oh, we had an arson one time.  But it turned out it wasn’t really arson. Anyway, let’s get you checked in, and hopefully Patterson will be here by the time Captain Jones is done with you.”

“Patterson?”

“My partner.  You know, you being here gives us an odd number of detectives.  That’s going to be weird.”  He sipped from his mug again.  “Maybe we’ll promote someone.  Not Cameron Daily, though.”  Collins stared into the middle distance.  “No. Not Cameron Daily.  Love that man. He’s got to stay in tech support.”

“The captain?” prompted McGee.  

“Hah.  Yeah. You have to brave the secretaries, first.”  Collins patted McGee on the shoulder, and McGee suppressed the impulse to shake him off. “Good luck.  At least this is going to be a quiet month, right?”

.

McGee spent what was probably far too much time pondering what Collins had meant by ‘it’s going to be a quiet month.’  Did the APPD’s arrangement with the local criminals (because there had to be an arrangement) include forewarning concerning the crimes they did deign to investigate?  Or did they have statistics that indicated December was a low-crime time for Amity Park?

Orientation was highly typical, as far as these things went.  The only oddity were the advertisements and promotional pictures for the local tourist trap tapped up all over half the captain’s office.  Was the man a fan?  Did he believe in that ghost nonsense?  Was it some kind of bizarre joke?

At least the Christmas plague hadn’t made it this far.

“Right, now that we’ve got that part out of the way, let’s move on.  We normally like an even number of detectives, but the county moved you over so fast we couldn’t get you a partner, and no one is retiring.”  Jones rolled his shoulders and fixed McGee with a very sharp gaze.  “Do you know why the county was so… insistent with your transfer?”

Ah.  So, the captain was suspicious.  Time to put that backstory to good use.  

“Honestly, sir, I embarrassed someone, and I think they just spun the wheel on how to get rid of me.”

“Mhm.  See, usually when they do that, they pick from departments that actually put in requests for extra personnel.  We haven’t.”

“I think the main concern was just to keep me away.”

“I see.”  The level of suspicion in the man’s eyes did not change.  “You’re going to be with Patterson and Collins until you get your feet under you and we decide what to do about the partner situation. If the county will even let us out another detective on payroll.  Consider yourself on probation as far as whatever it is you’re doing with the county. Don’t put my detectives in danger.”

“Sir—”

“Whatever excuse you have, I don’t want to hear it. Go talk to Collins.  I know you met him.  Patterson probably isn’t here yet.”

.

Collins stood next to a woman in a coat with a long dark braid.  Both of their backs were to McGee.  He could see that they were talking to one another, making tight little gestures with their hands near their chests.  All the other occupants of the room stared at them without a modicum of shame.  

“—until he sees his first fight?  We’re supposed to babysit him until January?  We won’t be able to talk about anything!”

“Well, if you’d been on time, maybe we could have convinced the captain not to—”

Someone behind McGee cleared their throat. Loudly.  Collins and the woman turned, sheepishly.  

“Oh.  McGee. McGee, this is Patterson. Patterson, this is McGee.  You’ll be working with us, apparently.”

“Hopefully, I’ll be able to get out of your hair before too long,” said McGee.

“Don’t count on it.  How long have you been in town?” asked Patterson.  

“Only since yesterday.  Why?”

“We’re showing you around,” said Patterson, snatching the antlers from Collins’s head.  

“Consider it your last bit of freedom before you’re condemned to paperwork,” said Collins.  

.

Amity Park was odd, McGee decided.  

It wasn’t just the clashing but equally enthusiastic Halloween and Christmas decorations, the omnipresent construction, and the worrying number of holes in the road (really, there was no way the road repair budget was actually getting used on the roads).  There was something else.  Something McGee couldn’t put his finger on.  Something—

He did a double-take.  Were those two cosplaying the Ghostbusters?  Why?

How seriously did these people take their tourist trap nonsense?

“What are Jack and Maddie doing out?” asked Patterson.

“I don’t know,” said Collins.  He tilted his head to one side and pulled into a nearby convenience store parking lot.  “You’d think they’d be told; December is a quiet month.”

“Mhm.  Maybe they didn’t believe it?”

“They can be stubborn sometimes,” mused Collins. “But it would be nice if there was some action.”  He pulled the parking brake.  “You want to introduce McGee to the local celebrities?”

A look of indescribable disgust appeared on Patterson’s face.  “Why don’t you introduce them?”

“I did that last time.”

“No, you didn’t.  You rang their doorbell and then ran like the coward you are.”

Collins, without any hint of repentance, shrugged. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“This is different,” she protested.  “This isn’t just any new resident.  This is a coworker.  A coworker who isn’t going to see that kind of action for a whole month.”

“Action?” asked McGee.  This felt perilously close to what he’d been tasked to find out.  

“You’ll find out in a month,” said Collins. “Assuming you last that long.”

McGee frowned, and decided to take another risk and prompt the pair further.  “I know you have a low crime rate here,” he said, “but I’m sure there will be something for us to investigate before the end of the month.”

“Well, yeah,” said Collins.  “We don’t get paid for doing nothing.”

There was a sharp rap on the window, and everyone jumped.  God. It was just some kid.  McGee put a hand over his heart and tried not to think too hard about the time he had almost been killed in his car by a dirty cop and his gangster friends.

Collins rolled the window down, letting in a gust of frigid wind.  

“Hi, detectives!” chirped the teen.  “I heard you got a new guy!”

Oh.  That was interesting.  Was the local gang using children as in-betweens?

“Yep,” said Patterson.  “This is McGee.  McGee, this is Danny, the only sane Fenton.”

Danny tipped his head to the side and squinted. “I think that title needs to go to Jazz.”

“Danny, I hate to break it to you, but your sister is a lunatic,” said Patterson, completely serious.  

“Come on, you’re just saying that,” said Danny, staring openly at McGee.  

Did this kid blink?

“Anyway, I’ve introduced McGee to one Fenton, you get to do the others,” said Patterson, poking Collins in the ribs.

“Danny doesn’t count,” protested Collins, squirming. “He’s sane, like you said.”

“You’ll have to be fast.  Mom and Dad are like three blocks down the street chasing…”  He trailed off.  “Well, they think they’re chasing something, anyway.  Transient noise on their latest EMF reader.”  He rolled his eyes and finally blinked.  

“Think they might actually get anything?” asked Patterson.

“Nothing with a mind,” said Danny.  “Might have to play animal control soon, though.”  There was a loud crash and a squeal of rubber, followed by distant but still deafening engine noises.  Danny winced.  “Can you please give them a fine for driving around in that thing?”

“They have a special permit,” said Collins, shrugging.  “Straight from the mayor.  Nothing we can do.”

“I will bribe you to do something.”

McGee choked.

“With what?” asked Collins.  “You’re a penniless middle schooler.”

“Excuse you,” said Danny, crossing his arms. “You know I’m in high school.”

There was another crash.  

“Are you sure they haven’t found anything?” asked Patterson, leaning forward.  

“Absolutely positive,” said Danny.  He sighed.  “I should probably go, though.”

“Okay, have fun, Danny!”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of introductions, Patterson,” grumbled Collins.  

.

“Alright,” said Collins, opening a narrow door and turning on the buzzing yellow light within.  “Your kingdom awaits!”  He gestured grandly, disrupting clouds of dust.  “You’ll be entering old cases into the system.  Did Cameron Daily show you how?”

McGee’s lips twisted at the memory of the computer tech.  “Yes,” he said.  

“Yeah, Cameron gets that reaction,” said Collins, thumping McGee on the back.  “If it makes you feel better, he’s usually in charge of keeping track of the cults. Did he tell you about the VHS evidence?”

“The cults?”

“Yep.  You’ll learn about those later.  VHS?”

“Yes, he told me how to handle the VHS.”

“Great.  So, Patterson and I will be working on case paperwork in the main room, if you have any questions, come get us, okay?”

“I will,” said McGee.  

Collins nodded.  “If we wind up being assigned a case, we’ll come get you.”  He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder.  “The captain probably won’t give us anything today. Oh, and if Mayor Masters drops in, redirect him to the front desk.  There’s no reason for him to be back here.”

There was a good deal of hostility in Collins’ tone. Interesting.  

“Do you not get along with the mayor?”

“We get along fine,” said Collins.  “He just oversteps his authority, sometimes.”

“I… see.”

“Not yet you don’t,” said Collins, softly, before turning to walk away.  A “Good luck” was tossed casually over the man’s shoulder and seemed to echo in the air despite the hall being far too small for that to happen.  

McGee turned to his work and smiled.  They shouldn’t have left him alone with the records. This was where he did his best work. There was always a paper trail somewhere.  

He opened the department-issued laptop and brought up the digital filing system.  

It was odd, though.  He’d spent years in the police, and he’d never heard of Fenton & Foley Information Systems.  

.

The department computer filing system was a miracle.  McGee meant that completely, as a connoisseur of filing systems.  He wondered if he could get the county to adopt it, assuming it didn’t tie back to the mob or something equally unsavory.  

On the other hand, it was only a couple months old, by the looks of it.  It was, therefore, mostly empty, as compared to the almost infinite number of filing boxes in the record room.  

The record room was not well organized.  In fact, it was barely organized at all.  Several of the boxes looked like they’d been beaten with a bat, others were singed.  A few dripped with something sticky and green. One or two looked as though they’d been drenched in water and then left to dry in a dark, damp room.  Only about half of them were labeled.  

To top it off, towards the beginning he’d found a post-it that had said: Boxy, if you steal these again, I’m going to leave you in the thermos for a week.  -Phantom

The people here were way too into their tourist trap shenanigans.  Unless they weren’t just tourist trap shenanigans.  Unless they were a front.  

He’d put that on his list of things to investigate.

But first, first, he was going to find the records for the murder that was recently swept under the table.

The newest boxes, despite being reasonably intact and therefore unique, weren’t easy to find, but he was able to drag them out and sit down with his laptop.  He could enter as he searched, and thereby give the illusion that he was a completely normal transfer more credence.  

Except.

Except.  The records for that murder didn’t seem to exist.  Not even in the cold case box.

“Hey.”

McGee jumped.  Patterson was standing behind him, holding two paper coffee cups.  

“How’s it going?” she asked.  “I know these records are hell.”

“Fine,” he said.  

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”  He took the offered cup from her.  “Forgive me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but when I was working up at county, I heard that you had a murder case here, recently?  You dug up a teen’s body?”

“Oh, yeah.”  Patterson was unperturbed.  “Yeah, that was pretty exciting.  Collins and I were on that.”

“I can’t seem to find the records for it.”

“Yeah.  Well, there wasn’t any foul play.”  Patterson shrugged.  

“Wasn’t he found buried in a public park?”

“Well, aren’t you informed,” said Patterson. She sipped her coffee aggressively through the plastic stirring straw.  

“So, you found an illegally buried teenager’s corpse and just… dropped it?”

“We investigated it,” said Patterson.  “There wasn’t anything there.  Case was cold even without that.”  Another long, aggressive sip.  She couldn’t possibly be getting any coffee up through that straw.  It had to be mostly air.  

This was the most bizarre intimidation tactic McGee had ever come across in his entire life.  This was saying something.  Once he’d worked with a man who’d pretend to have the flu during interrogations.  

“You should still have records for the investigation.”

Patterson shrugged.  “You’d have to ask Captain Jones about that.  Anyway, I brought a bunch of tapes for you, too.  You’ll have to rewind them by hand, though, when you finally get to them.”  Another sip. “Are you planning on doing the salvage boxes?”

“The what?”

“The salvage boxes.  The ones that got fished out of the lake.  Wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t.  Just curious.”

“I’m- They were in a lake?  Why?”

“Stick around and find out,” said Patterson.  “Did Masters come bother you yet?”

“Mayor Masters?”

“The one and only,” said Patterson, raising her coffee in a mock toast.  

“Why would he come here?”

“Because you’re new, and theoretically a weak link. Oh, yeah.  One more thing.  I know your check-out time is in half an hour, but come back around eight, okay?”

“Why?”

“Reasons.”

“Are you hazing me?”

“That’s what the salvage boxes are for,” said Patterson.  “Come back at eight.  Bye.” She waved as she left.  

Great.  What was he supposed to do about that?

.

He didn’t go home after checking out. Instead, he walked around town.  Patterson and Collins’ tour had been… interesting. Not terribly informative.  They had given him an overview of various restaurants, ‘paranormal hotspots,’ and places where dumb kids gathered to experiment with drugs of dubious legality.  

But they had avoided certain parts of town.  McGee had noticed.  

True, some of that was likely coincidence, but McGee had never heard of a public cemetery that wasn’t the site of something shady. Sure, a good caretaker would chase off anyone messing around in daylight, but cemeteries and graveyards just attracted trouble.  Even if that trouble was just the local goth kids running around while high out of their minds.  

But this cemetery, evidently, is different. Because there’s an unholy amount of people there for something that supposedly hallowed ground.  Is this also part of the weird ghost-theme the place had going for itself?  Were those tourists?  In the graveyard?  

That seemed to be in remarkably poor taste.  

McGee pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and lengthened his stride.  This whole town was in poor taste.  

Oddly, everyone seemed to be gathered around the same grave.  Maybe it was a funeral?  No, the ground in front of the headstone was long since patted firm, and the headstone, while obviously fairly new, had some evidence of weathering even from a distance.

Had there been a celebration today?  Memorial Day wasn’t today, was it?  McGee always lost track of those fiddly little holidays.

Huh.  The headstone was blank.

“Excuse me,” he said to a nearby woman.  “Do you know who was buried here?”

“You… don’t know?” she asked, eyes wide with surprise.  

McGee grinned.  “I’m new in town, I’m afraid, and I just saw all these people here… I’m curious, I guess.”

“Oh,” said the woman.  She looked away, every part of her body language screaming that she was coming up with a story to feed him.  A lie.  Or, at least, deciding which lie to use.  “Well, there was a body found a few months ago?  No one ever identified him, so… He was buried here?  We just, um.  It was sad, you know?  You’ll probably hear more about it if you stick around.”

Despite almost everything she said being a statement, she still managed to make everything but the last sentence sound like a question.  

Even if it was a lie…

“I hadn’t, actually.  Can you tell me what happened?”

… Maybe it was just what McGee needed.