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primrose-path-of-dalliance · 3 years

Text

@trueblue-escapist this one got long! :) (edit: now on ao3)

It was by sheer fortune that the message arrived while he was dining at Beau and Yasha's home.

They were trying some of the latter's experimental recipes. Fortunately Yasha had progressed very well in the last several months; this was now the fourth meal Caleb had been over for since Beau declared her love's attempts at Empire foods to be reliably nonpoisonous.

He was comfortable, speculating with Beau over her recent visit to Shattengrod. So when Jester began speaking in his head, he almost dropped his fork.

With strained panting—"Caleb, we need some help."

Caleb’s thoughts immediately went to static. He held up a hand as her voice continued, eyes wide, and both Beau and Yasha fell quiet with concern.

"There’s a lot of fishy people and I have, um. One diamond. We’re on the ship. Hope you aren’t busy—"

Abrupt cut-off. No continuation. He shot a look across the table to the other two, and they seemed to instantly read the tension on his face for what it was. They darted from their seats as he replied, "I am with Beau and Yasha. Hang in there, please. We’re coming."

"Sword?" called Yasha from another room.

"Sword. Beau," Caleb shouted, his adrenaline spiking with every second they were still here, "diamonds?"

"One," came her terse response. "I got it."

He stood up. The chair legs screeched against Beau and Yasha’s nice hardwood. Dug a hand through his hair and pulled half of it out of the tie.

Next he slapped his hands together. A strand of amber formed from his pinched thumbs and middle fingers as he drew them apart. Gods, his trembling hands shook the arcane thread. Ten seconds since Jester’s message.

"Essek," Caleb said to the thread, which vibrated with each word. "If you aren’t busy and have the spells. Retrieve Caduceus if you could and bring him to the Nein Heroez. It’s urgent. And diamonds," he added hastily. The thread dissipated.

Yasha and Beau emerged together from the hall with weapons in hand as the reply came: "I will contact Caduceus, then, and keep you updated. Hopefully I can be of aid. Stay safe, Caleb."

Caleb closed his eyes for a single breath and tried to absorb Essek’s soft, controlled caution.

They were coming. They would be okay.

Without needing to look, he held his hands to Yasha and Beau. "Uk’otoa is being an exceptional nuisance."

Beau scowled and said, "I fucking told Fjord to do something with that ball"—and they were off.

***

Jester woke up to what felt like a giant spike piercing through her head, or maybe a handaxe being sunk into her skull—but if it kept going forever instead of happening in an instant. Her stomach felt like a tiny pool of boiling acid that the ship kept rocking back and forth.

She moaned, curling up harder and pressing the heels of her hands to her temples. It didn’t really help, but the pulsing pain eased a little over some time.

"Arty?" she eventually managed.

"I’m so sorry, my dear," murmured his low voice by her ear. "I came as quickly as I could."

"It’s okay. Water?"

She felt a small weasel tongue lick her cheek, then retreat.

After about a minute of measured, careful breathing through the migraine, Jester heard a door crack open and winced from the brighter light now shining in from the hallway.

"Sorry," whispered a familiar voice, and Jester might have started crying at the sound of his Zemnian accent if she wasn’t already teary-eyed from pain.

The door closed, dimming the room again to its singular lantern.

She did her best to uncurl as Caleb set down a bowl and cup on the small table nearby and brought over a chair to her bedside. He reached for his neck, too, and a crimson weasel slipped into his hands.

"Thanks," she said as he returned Sprinkle to her shoulder.

"Of course. Would you like help sitting up?"

"Please."

She had to rest her head on Caleb’s shoulder for a minute when sitting up gave her a rush of a dizzy spell. His hand had rubbed up and down her arm. He smelled like sweat and fish guts and leather.

Eventually Jester had her back against the wall and the cup of water in her hands as she took a careful sip.

"Everyone’s alright," began Caleb, voice still hushed in consideration of her headache. "We took care of them all shortly after you went down, and Fjord was able to heal you a little bit. Essek arrived with Caduceus not long after."

"That’s good."

She closed her eyes and sipped more water. The warm weight of Sprinkle was draped around her neck.

Gods. Jester loved her friends so much.

"Where is everyone? Where’s Fjord?" she asked.

"Out on the deck cleaning up and figuring out what to do next," came the wry response. "Beau gave Fjord a piece of her mind about that orb. Caduceus suggested to try hiding it in the Happy Fun Ball."

"Aw, man. That’s a really good idea."

"Ja. So we are figuring out who will take it in there and where to put it."

She nodded sluggishly, eyes still closed.

"I’m sorry," said Caleb after a long moment. "Do you want to sleep?"

"No. I'm just tired."

That last word came out with a bit more... a bit more than Jester had intended to say it with. She chewed the inside of her cheek and took a sip of water.

She could feel Caleb's gaze on her. "Is it something you would like to talk about?"

The headache continued to pulse in her temples. She stared down into her cup, at the water sloshing side to side from the rocking of the ship. "If you guys are going to Yussa's later, I want to come with. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Mama."

"Of course."

Jester breathed in and out and continued, "It's been a year and I think I'm sick of sailing."

"Ah."

"I mean, there's been so many cool things. The Lucidian Ocean is huge. One time we saw a sea horse that was big enough to ride on. And the port cities we've visited have all been beautiful. But most of the time it's just this boat. And less Arty. And Uk'otoa attacking us for the cloven crystal. I can't even prank people whenever I get bored because it's all the same people, and it's way less fun to keep pranking the same people over and over again."

Caleb made a considering noise. She sipped water, chewing the inside of her cheek some more.

Slowly he asked, "Are you... thinking of staying with your mother for a while?"

"Maybe."

Peaceful silence. They listened to the sounds of wood creaking and the ocean undulating. Jester felt the shittiness of her body continue to ease, and she set down the water to take a sniff at the bowl instead. Some stew, still warm.

As she had a cautious taste, Caleb said, "Hey."

She brought down the bowl and looked at him.

"Would you like to see something cool?"

"Of course I would like to see something cool, Caleb."

His smile as she sat up with anticipation and set down the bowl was very welcome—and a pretty cool sight already. But she watched him pull out a piece of wool and rub it between two fingers, and all of a sudden there was a cat in his lap and another cat on his shoulders.

Jester gasped, hands flying to her face. "Are those your cats?"

The smile on his face only got bigger and warmer as he looked down at the illusory one in his lap cleaning its brown-and-white face. "Yes. This one is Gretel, she is still somewhat a kitten. The other one is Mac, which is short for mackerel because he was eating one from a rubbish heap when I found him."

"Oh my god, Caleb, that’s so adorable." She beamed and leaned in to wiggle her fingers at illusion-Gretel, cooing without caring that it wasn’t the real cat.

He rubbed the wool in his hand and illusion-Gretel began to purr loudly.

She could feel the dimples in her cheeks from grinning. "I love them."

"They will both be very glad to hear that and will eagerly exploit your love to make you spoil them."

"Well, of course I’ll spoil them, they’re so perfect."

Caleb’s smile eased into something soft. "Would you like to meet them in person, then? Before you return to the Nein Heroez?"

The excitement welling up inside Jester faltered.

Oh, right.

She twisted her fingers together, fixing her gaze on the blood crusted in the space between them and beneath her nails. "Um. Yeah, I would love to, Caleb. But probably I'm not going to come back here."

No response except a careful inhale.

She picked at a bloodied crease in her palm and continued, "Fjord and I talked a couple weeks ago. It wasn't like an argument or anything, don't worry! We're one hundred and ten per cent still best friends who love each other and everything, you know? But he loves being captain of the Nein Heroez and doesn't really plan on stopping anytime soon. Or doing anything else. And I want to do more. The world's so big, and there's like a dozen other planes I could see, Arty promised he'd show me around the Feywild—"

Caleb's long-fingered hand placed itself on top of her fidgeting ones, and Jester's rambling mouth fell silent. The illusory cats were gone.

"It's fine, Jester," he said. She looked up at his furrowed brow and crooked smile. "I understand."

Deep breath in and out. Jester returned a similar smile. "Yeah."

Seeming reassured, he leaned back in his chair and seemed to look off elsewhere, his brow still furrowed in thought.

In the lull, she took up the bowl of stew again with more relish. The weight of the news she'd been ignoring had lifted from her shoulders, and with it some of her worries. She hadn't known how people would react. The more reasonable voice in her mind figured that everyone would take the relationship change with ease, reminding her of Yasha's advice in Eiselcross a year ago. The louder, more anxious voice had stressed over whether any of them might judge her for being a bad girlfriend.

Apropos of nothing, gaze still a little distant, Caleb said, "Essek and I are in a relationship."

Halfway through a sip of the stew, Jester's mouth fell open. "Really?"

His lips twitched at the squeal in her voice. "Ja."

She smiled, said, "Aw, I'm happy for you two," and returned to her stew to try and stamp down the sudden, strange sense of instability overtaking her. Like her heart found itself stuck in the second between missing the next step down the stairs and falling.

"Thank you. I am telling you this, though, because Essek and I have had... somewhat of a similar conversation." His eyes flickered to meet her startled gaze briefly, and she saw a bittersweet wryness in them. "Neither of us expect the other to be, well. Committed. My whole self, more or less, is dedicated to my home. I want to make it a better place. Essek has very different goals in mind for his future. We love each other, but between my life and his constant vagrancy, it would be unfair to expect us to stay the same. And, you know. I don't have as much time as he does, anyway."

Jester had the bowl of stew in her lap now, unable to stop staring at Caleb. He finally seemed to notice her attention and awkwardly fixed his eyes on a spot of the wall somewhere to her right and up.

In her chest, time started again. Jester's heart safely found the next step instead of taking a tumble down the stairs.

"Thank you, Caleb," she said softly.

He returned to looking at her properly, and the renewed warmth in his expression helped resettle Jester's sense of the world even further. "I'm sure your mother could be much more reassuring."

"Maybe, but it's you."

Caleb went a little pink. The flush was still visible to Jester's eyes in the dim room. Thank the gods that the warmth in her own cheeks would be much harder for him to notice.

That was enough conversation for her at the moment. She shoved the bowl of stew back against her mouth.

(send me a brief widojest prompt!)

#cr #cr fanfiction #widojest #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #the mighty nein #mentions of shad*wg*st and f/j #prim writes #prim post #trueblue-escapist #readmore

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

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do you have any hc’s of jake meeting or being at santiago events from early relationship to fatherhood

ho booy, that's like.. a whole fic collection if you get deep into it!

- he went to one sibling meet-up / visiting-the-city-event pre-relationship and half the brother's were like... THIS is the dude Amy has to work with? he's fun but oh god they're like oil and water. While the other half was like JESUS you can cut the tension between those two with a knife!!!

- the first official relationship meeting is luckily not a big holiday or anything, just an annual summer BBQ afternoon/evening at the parents'. Jake knows he's gonna be under everyone's scrutiny and stresses out like crazy beforehand. He doesn't want to ruin things with his jokes, but he also can't pretend to be some straight-forward serious dude if this relationship is gonna last and they'll get to see him more often. He ends up mostly talking to Julian whom he knows, and who makes him feel easy enough to be his normal, goofy self. Which may or may not be a good thing.

- (he also definitely raids the grill - wouldn't dream of offering help or info, Victor's the king of the BBQ - and brings Amy exactly the items she likes the most without knowing that she usually has to fight at least two brothers for them, so that's quite a lot of plus-points from everyone for him)

- the first big, big event is Noche Buena (christmas eve) where everyone brings a dish, so he and Amy are expected to now bring two. Actually, Amy is only expected to bring drinks, because... they know her, after all. But Jake wrecks his mind over what he could cook, he doesn't know any Cuban or Latin dishes, heck, he doesn't really know American christmas dishes, because while he did celebrate it his mom never made too big a deal out of it all... so he ends up bringing his mom's passover brisket, which Karen might or might not have helped with a lot. Anyway, it's a hit, and abuela Claudia tells him to bring it next year too, which... they all know what that really means. He's still expected to be in the picture next year.

- about a year and a few months into their relationship one of Amy's nephews gets christened and that's when the Santiago-baby-testing starts, definitely. Jake is basically volun-told to take care of the older kids during the day outside of the church (inside which the parents shush them, luckily, because Jake would never be able to handle that). He also gets handed the baptism-baby and silently thanks a God he doesn't actually pray to that the kid stays calm in his arms while everyone is staring.

- between Florida and Jail things get quite bumpy for the Santiagos re: Jake, because he's missed several events, and involuntarily made Amy miss a few as well because she didn't feel up to it, and, well, they all don't really know what to think of that, really, especially since Amy couldn't tell them the truth about WitSec (except for Matteo and Julian). But they do make it to the annual cabin week that year, and they're still so happy from being back together and actually moving in with each other and just having each other back, for realz-realz, that Jake completely forgets to be anxious about re-meeting the family and Amy completely forgets to be anxious about how she acts in front of her family, and they all basically get the lovey-dovey show of their life. Which is surprisingly reassuring for them all.

- some of the Santiabros, one abuela and, unexpectedly, Camila send Jake things when he's in prison. Even during his short stay, he gets picture updates of the family (and Amy), and some Cuban snacks and sweets (that he refuses to trade or barter with), and a letter-set from Camila (so he can write to her daughter, which she's sure Amy'll love). It's all very sweet, but most of all it's a very clear sign that despite it all he's absolutely a part of the family now and no Santiago is going to let someone from their family fall. They throw him a small-ish party when he gets out, without really mentioning what the party is about but just a general welcome back.

- once they're engaged things turn even more. All the tias and tios who were still suspicious of him (a boyfriend is a very unstable thing) finally accept him as much as they can (a fiancé is a thing for the future, however). The baby-testing and husband-duty-testing definitely amps up during every single event.

- post-wedding (which they're all still bitter about not attending but oh well), Jake actually gets handed proper jobs during events. Before, he was always dragged in as a helper or general support, but now he gets his properly assigned areas. Which, as Amy lets him know, means he's definitely a Santiago-Peralta now even if he hadn't taken her name.

- there's a bit of a rabble during a birthday party for one of the brothers when Amy is heavily pregnant, because Camila and Victor expect everyone to follow their planned schedule and do things properly and whatnot, while Amy is at that stage where she needs to sit down a lot / wants to nap a lot / feels unwell really fast. Jake is extremely adamant about her doing what is best for her, while Amy feels the pressure of being the perfect daughter, and it ends in yet another scene where Jake tells Camila where, exactly, she can stick her schedule if his wife needs that time window to lie down in her childhood bedroom (okay, maybe that's not his real word choice, because he'd never dare say that to his mother-in-law, but the point comes across). Amy is mortified, Camila is angry, and Victor for the first time ever thinks he might actually be the right one for his daughter. The santiabros give him several high fives in secret later on.

- Victor is completely convinced once he watches Jake carry sleepy baby-Mac through his cousin's quinceañera like he's the most precious cargo in the world, which he is. There's a crazy party happening, with all the stuff that Jake would usually go wild for - cake, party games, silly costumes, good drinks. But instead he holds his son close to his chest, and stays off to the sides so the noise doesn't bother him too much, and tells Amy to go back and enjoy herself every time she checks in on her two boys. And when they leave earlier than everyone else, because Mac really needs to go to bed at home and Jake doesn't want to drive through the complete darkness with a baby on board, Victor gives him the first hug ever to say goodbye to his son-in-law and his grandson.

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #the santiago clan #the santiabros #headcanons

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bubblestheraccoon · 3 years

Text

Music Mixes

Lumberjanes “Arts and Crafts” Program Field

Treble Maker Badge

“Some Risks are worth the Reward”

Music fuels the mind and thus fuels creativity. A creative mind has the ability to make discoveries and create innovations. The greatest minds and thinkers like Hildegard von Bingen, Barbra Strozzi, and Florence Mary Taylor all had something in common in that they were constantly exploring their imagination and creativity. As a Lumberjane it will be vital that we not only enrich our minds, but enrich those around us. Music is just one of the many mediums that can create an empowering environment, it is one of the few mediums that can be enjoyed at any time.

Finch’s Notes:

This post is based on a section from the bonus content from Lumberjanes: To The Max Edition Volume One. I did not create these playlist, their titles, or the blurb at the top of the post. If any of the links are wrong or broken, or if I should add any more disclaimers for song content, please feel free to let me know!

*D-Slur Warning.

**Only version of the cover I could find on youtube, here’s a version of song without the extra audio but it’s on a Russian website that overwrote my adblocker a little bit so visit it at your own risk. Here’s the song it was covering if you want that instead.

***Could not find cover on youtube. Link instead goes to band camp.

****F-Slur Warning.

Fox Fight Jams! By April!

Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks

Bad Reputation by Joan Jett

Run the World (Girls) by Beyonce

Northshore be Tegan & Sara

Woo Hoo by The 5 6 7 8s

Wilderness by Sleater-Kinney

Wolf by Now, Now

Spin Around by Josie and the Pussycats

Buffy the Vampire Slayer Theme

Jet Pack by Dog Party

Pirates by Jenny Owen Youngs

Dance Apocalyptic by Janelle Monae

Bamboo Bones by Against Me!

Push It by Salt-n-Pepa

I Knew You Were Trouble by Taylor Swift

Up All Night by One Direction

Roar by Katy Perry

Eye Of The Tiger by Survivor

Say You'll Be There by the Spice Girls

Ribs by Lorde

Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks (”Best Song Ever”-April)

River Adventure Mix of dooooom by Mal

I Was An Island by Allison Weiss

Shark In The Water by V.V. Brown

Let's Submerge by X-Ray Spex

Eyes Open by The Gossip

Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill*

Giant Kitty by Shonen Knife

I Won't Follow by the Secret Someones

4Ever by The Veronicas

Sk8er Boi by Avril Lavigne

Take Me Away by Fefe Dobson

Borne On The FM Waves by Against Me! & Tegan Quinn

Ain't It Fun by Paramore

3 Small Words by Josie and the Pussycats

Anchor by Letters To Cleo

That's Not My Name by The Ting Tings

Independent Woman Part 1 by Destiny's Child

Crush by the Sleigh Bells

Oh! by Sleater-Kinney

Tropical by Plumtree

Rhiannon by Best Coast or Fleetwood Mac

The Con by Tegan & Sara

The Competition by Kimya Dawson

Cave Tunes by Molly

I Have Confidence by Julie Andrews

Ain’t No Mountain High Enough by Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell

Tightrope by Janelle Monae feat Big Boi

Just A Dream by Taylor Swift

Heartbreak Dream by Betty Who

Corner of the Sky by the Jackson 5

Valerie by Amy Winehouse

I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston

Call Your Girlfriend by Robyn

Let It Go by Idina Menzel

Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations

Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash

Jolene by Dolly Parton

Rock ‘n Roll High School by Shonen Knife

Don’t Save Me by HAIM

The Cave by Dia Frampton**

She Keeps Me Warm by Mary Lambert

This Is For by Ingrid Michaelson

Cut It Off by Mal Blum

Smash Into You by Beyonce

Jen’s Perfect Camp Mix by Ripley

Gravity Falls Theme Song

Summertime by Audra McDonald

Strong Enough by Kina Grannis

(You’re So Square) Baby, I Don’t Care by Cee Lo Green

Waterfalls - TLC

Just A Girl by No Doubt

Nobody Knows Me At All by The Weepies

I’m Beginning To See The Light by Ella Fitzgerald

Bad Girls by M.I.A.

Spice Up Your Life by the Spice Girls

Magic To Do by Patina Miller & Ensemble

***Flawless by Beyonce

Come On by Josie And The Pussycats

Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey

Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles

Jo’s really rad! Mix by Jo

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Theme

Androgynous(Live) by Joan Jett and Against Me!

Tous Les Memes by Stromae

Sunshine by Rye Rye feat M.I.A.

L.E.S. Artistes by Santigold

What About Your Friends by TLC

Just One Of The Guys by Jenny Lewis

Melody by Kate Earl

Red Cape by Priscilla Ahn

No Wow by The Kills

I Found You by Tilly and the Wall

Do You Remember the Morning by Kid in the Attic***

Cheerleader by St. Vincent

Concrete Wall by Zee Avi

You Can Count On Me by Panda Bear

Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac (”<3″-Jo)

Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds

Ziggy Stardust by David Bowie

Oblivion by Grimes

Q.U.E.E.N. by Janelle Monae and Eryka Badu

Rapid Decompression by Against Me!

Roanokes Rule: The Mix[!][!][!] by April

Rattlesnake by Saint Vincent

Transgender Dysphoria Blues by Against Me!****

Amazon by M.I.A.

Another One Bites The Dust by Queen

Art-I-Ficial by X-Ray Spex

Separate Rooms by Now, Now

What’s Mine Is Yours by Sleater-Kinney

Sci-Fi Wasabi by Cibo Matto

Tennis Court by Lorde

Son Of A Preacher Man by Dusty Springfield

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac

Desire Lines by Deerhunter

Hot and Cold by Ex Hex

White Daisy Passing by Rocky Votolato

Misguided Ghosts by Paramore

For The Best by Gregory and the Hawk

The Hymn Of Acxiom by Vienna Teng

Capture The Flag by Broken Social Scene

From A Shell by Lisa Germano

Rosie’s Turn

Feeling Good by Nina Simone

Annabelle Lee by Sarah Jarosz

Terrible Things by April Smith & The Great Picture Show

You Can’t Be Told by Valerie June

Wild Geese Blues by Gladys Bentley

The Day Is Short by Jearlyn Steele

One Dime Blues by Etta Baker

Hard Way Home by Brandi Carlile

The Devil’s Paintbrush Road by The Wailin’ Jennys

To The Bone by Okou

Panic Cord by Gabrielle Aplin

Cups (You’re Gonna Miss Me) by Lulu and the Lampshades

Crayola Doesn’t Make A Color For Your Eyes by Kristin Andreassen

Complimentary Me by Elizabeth & The Catapult

Blue Spotted Tail by Kina Grannis

Sorry About The Doom by Slow Club

You Know I’m No Good by Amy Winehouse

From Texas: Big “D” by Julie Andrews & Carol Burnett

Finch’s Notes Cont:

Hi! I made this post to avoid work. But mostly I made this post because Lumberjanes is something really important to me, and these playlist are a part of my enjoyment of Lumberjanes I don’t see people talking about a lot! So I decided to make a post in order to share them with y’all. I remember hunching over my phone making a spotify playlist (here, though it’s missing a few songs that aren’t on spotify) while on a trip to California in the summer of 2018 when I first got into Lumberjanes. I probably listened to these songs while I made my first ever Lumberjanes fanart. These mixes helped me to discover artist I really love, like Janelle Monae and Mal Blum. I hope you enjoy them as well!

Other notes: Sk8r Boi is crossed out as that is the way it appears on Mal’s playlist. Also, I tend to shy away from music videos as a personal preference, so that’s why there are so few included on this playlist, though I’m sure many of these songs have beautiful music videos. I might reblog this post in the future with some youtube playlists of these mixes, but if you want to find them yourself there are a lot of playlists of these songs made on youtube already! Or you can make your own playlists using this post.

And, just for fun, have one final Lumberjanes themed music recommendation:

Lumberjanes by Various

#lumberjanes #mine #music #mixtapes #long post

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sillybub · 3 years

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Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer; "It's midnight, what do you want?"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

With his tongue lolled out and limbs all akimbo, Mungojerrie snored on in the cardboard box he called home.

Thump.

He was dreaming of that field again, where the catnip grew in grass that was just long and soft enough to be really good for chewing and rolling around in...sweet, frothy cream ran in the river...and frolicking among the daisies was Bustopher Jones, completely unaware, and with his pockets looking extra fat...his paws twitched closer and closer to the biggest diamond he'd ever seen in his life...oh Everlasting, it smelled like fresh Fancy Feast...

THUMP THUMP THUMP!

"PSST, JERRIE! ARE YOU AWAKE?"

Jerrie snorted awake, and dropped the pillow he'd been chewing on in his sleep. It had more holes than fishing net in it by this point. He should replace it soon--maybe he and Teazer could take a trip out to Victoria Grove soon and get the fleas that infested it a better home.

Speaking of his more horrible half--

Jerrie's cardboard box had a strategically shredded hole placed in the northwest corner. He could crawl in and out from it, but most importantly, it let in a cool night breeze at just the right angle for perfect ventilation. But tonight...

"Hello, Jerrie! Lovely night, ain't it?"

That hole was now plugged by Rumpleteazer, with her face stuck right through it. She was normally more than a welcome sight. But at this hour, when he'd just been having a lovely dream?

"Teazer," he groaned, rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself up. "It's midnight, whaddya want?"

She took it as an invitation to squeeze in and make herself at home. She plopped next to Jerrie and "Do I need an excuse to pop in for a visit with my best chum?"

"You do if it means you have to wake me up," Jerrie grumbled. He sat fully up and licked the back of his paw to groom himself. He could feel the drool drying in his cheek.

Teazer twiddled her thumbs. "Just didn't feel like bein' alone. That's all."

Jerrie paused and glanced over at her. "You alright, Teaz?"

"Yeah, I think. I just couldn't sleep, so I went on a walk around the 'yard. And I got to thinking..."

Jerrie gave her a playful swat with his tail. "That's a first comin' from you."

Teazer buried her face in her hands and groaned. "Using my head sucks! I hate doin' it, so I wanted to come see you! If you're distractin' me, then I won't be payin' any mind to--well, my mind."

"Geez, Teazer, what were you thinkin' about to get you in such a bad mood?"

Teazer swatted at his head. "Jerrie! Didn't you hear a thing I said? I didn't come her to talk about it!"

He shrugged. "Dunno about that. Maybe you ought to. Might make you feel better, or something."

She was still and quiet for a moment--a rare occurrence. "Promise you won't laugh?" she said.

"How about this," Jerrie proposed. "I'll only laugh if it's really stupid. And if it's real stupid, then it was never worth it for you to worry about to begin with, and we can both laugh about it together."

Teazer spat on her hand and stuck it out. "Alright, deal." Jerrie licked his own hand and shook hers.

Jerrie shifted on the bed of swiped towels and socks, turning to give her his full attention. He motioned for her to go on.

Teazer took a deep breath. "You know how you and I have always stuck together?"

Jerrie nodded. "Through thick and thin."

"Right. And it was always just us two. Even back with Mac's crew, it was us against the world."

Jerrie's claws picked at the bedding beneath him--a nervous habit. Where was she going with this?

Teazer continued. "And then after Demeter ran off, we decided to follow suit, yeah? Decided we could do better than him, too."

"I was sure there for all of that," Jerrie said.

Teazer swatted him again. "I gotta set the stage, dummy! Munk's always sayin' a good story needs good explosions."

"You mean exposition?"

"I think more stories could use more of both," Teazer said. She waved her hand. "Anyways. I really like being with the Jellicles. And you do, too. I've got a new dad, and there's lots of real pretty queens here. And almost everyone is real nice, yeah?"

"I'd say so."

"But here's the thing. What if they don't always want us here?"

Ah, there we go.

"Now what makes you think that our pals wouldn't want a pair of cunning and charming individuals, such as ourselves, hanging around?"

"Well, you know how at the Ball, that old lady showed up? And nobody seemed to like her very much?"

"Oh yeah, Grizzlebear?"

"Yeah, something like that. And apparently she got kicked out for being a real asshole, right? Thinkin' she was better than everyone. She left on her own, but she was wasn't exactly welcome back."

"Teaze, what's your point here?"

"What if everyone gets tired of us?" she said. She hugged her knees to her chest. "What if they run out of patience, and we break one too many windows, or pull a prank that goes too far, and they kick us out?"

Jerrie scratched the back of his head. He... couldn't exactly say that he'd never had the same fears before. He often wondered far he could test Munkustrap or Old Deuteronomy's patience before they snapped.

He looked over at her. She was staring down at her feet, still and silent again.

"Hey, Teaz." He laid a hand in her shoulder, and she turned to look at him. The beginnings of tears glistened in her eyes.

He pulled her into a hug, and burst into laughter. "That's a good one, Teaz! You almost had me there!"

Teazer shoved Jerrie away. "You jerk! Don't laugh at me!"

"You said I could, you dunce!"

"Only if it was something stu--" Teazer paused. "Oh." She leaned back into Jerrie. "So you don't think I have to worry about that?"

He gave her a pat on the head. "Nah. Do want to hurt any of our friends?"

"Course not..."

"Me neither. I like having a family, for once."

"Yeah, me too..." Teazer nuzzled into Jerrie's chest, and he put his arms around her again. "I know us two have always got eachother's backs, but...it's real nice to have lots of other friends."

"Yeah...me too."

They sat like that for a while, cooled by the night air flowing in from the hole in the corner.

"Hey Jerrie," Teazer said.

"Yeah, Teaz?"

"Wanna have a sleepover tonight?"

Jerrie laughed, for real this time. "Sure, why not?"

#my writing #Mungojerrie #Rumpleteazer

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nadezhda-wexler · 3 years

Text

A Moment In Time, Again and Again

Hello @xoxobuckybarnes, It is I, your Summer Fic Exchange writer for @b99fandomevents. Thank you for all your amazing prompts, but I ended up choosing “The Squad after ten years”. I really hope you enjoy it.

Also a few points:

1) The whole story is non-linear. It’s like a series of snapshots. It’s related, but chronologically the don’t really make sense

2) It is smut adjacent? Implied smut? Idk, It’s just a few lines because honestly, it’s my first time writing anything like that

3) There might be some spelling errors and grammatical error, sorry if they put a damper on your experience

4) Thank you @b99fandomevents for giving this chance

5) MOST IMPORTANTLY: I hope you enjoy it.

There were many reasons Amy thought that might bring the squad together- well, mainly one- Scully dying (the man was already decaying when she was in the precinct), but this was not it. In fact, this was the opposite of it.

She reads the sign again, still wondering if she dreamt it up. But nope. Norm Scully and Cindy Shatz were indeed getting married.

Amy walks into her old turf: Shaw’s Bar. She feels like she stepped into another universe, everything is different, but somehow, the same. It’s the place she came to right after her wedding. The stools are different and the bar more worn, but the place still feels warm like her wedding night. The back door leads right to the alley where she once tried to conceive (that was a low point) and judging by the fact the Hitchcock is standing right outside the bathroom with Scully nowhere in sight, she guesses even the bathroom smells (stinks) the same.

Her eyes sweep over the room, she can see Rosa and Gina huddles together and she already feels bad for their victim, Holt and Kevin are talking to Terry- it never stops amusing her seeing the very passionate Captain Jeffords squared against impassive Retd Captain Holt and Kevin. Charles is haranguing the caterers, when she hears a voice from behind: “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

They had just gotten into the airport- Jake is bringing all their luggage while she is trying to get her children to calm down. While Maya knows everyone in the squad, Mac has lived with them more. So Mac has decided to fill in the blanks. His stories are wild and absolutely untrue and Maya is hanging onto each word. She was looking to see where her husband was when Maya suddenly tugged her hand and asked in wonder “Did Daddy really catch a thief by sending Mac in undercover?” “No. Your daddy never sent Mac undercover because he isn’t a cop and he is a baby”. “Well, I am not a baby and dad did do that, he just didn’t tell you”

“What didn’t I tell your mom?”Jake joins them, luggage in tow. “That you sent me undercover to catch that thief” “Mac”, Jake says with fake indignation. “You weren’t supposed to tell that. It was our secret” Mac’s eyes has that same mischievous glint she has seen a million times on her husband’s face as he says he told her to maya and launches into his story. They’re loading their luggage into the cart when Jake’s phone buzzes. “That’s Charles and he has already called me 5 times and messaged me a lot. I stopped counting after 10”, Jake says. “Kids, your Uncle Charles is waiting. You know how he gets when you are late!”, he adds.

Mac, without any prompt, holds his sister's hands, so as to not lose her, still continuing with the stories of his feats, she’s sure, without missing a beat. Her heart swells as she watches her kids, Mac being a protective older brother and Maya holding onto his hands and words. Her husband’s hand slips into hers as he asks “You ready to go?” She couldn’t be happier.

"Captain Santiago"

"Captain Holt! Hi!" Apparently even his retirement hasn't made Santiago less flustered. He won't deny there is a part of him that enjoys the reverence. "How was your first year running a precinct, Captain?" He enjoys calling her Captain almost as much as she enjoys hearing it.

"Great! Super cool. Fantastic. Dope. No diggity no doubt" He briefly wonders if she had a stroke.

"Okay, you saw right through me. It's not been easy. Manhattan is completely different from Brooklyn. The squad is also new, they all just transferred about a month or two before me. So they don't even know each other so everyone is walking on tiptoes. And they follow everything I say, but don't really see me as a leader."

"Well, the first precinct I ran, I had a detective who only cared about closing cases, everyone in the squad thought I was a robot, my two best detectives had a bet with each other, my Sargent was chained to the desk and the office administrator was Gina and I had Hitchcock and Scully"

"You are right. I shouldn't complain. I don't have a Hitchcock and Scully"

"No. But that was not what I was trying to say. Once I got closer to all of them, I realised that the detective who did not care, cares not just care about closing cases, the bet made both detectives better, my Sargent saved my life, Gina is still Gina and that being a robot doesn't make me a worse Captain. What you need to do Santiago, is trust your squad. You have a unique opportunity to build this team. But you cannot do that without unflinching trust. So trust them. Help them and let them help you. And if you ever feel the need, please do not hesitate to contact me. I might have retired from the force, but not from being your mentor"

"Wow! Thank you so much Captain. That means the world to me." Some people might call Amy Santiago a teacher's pet in an attempt to mock her, but the truth is she is a teacher's pet because she is a brilliant student. She revels in learning and enjoys implementing her knowledge even more. She is a teacher's pet not just because she is adept at brown nosing- which she admittedly does sometimes, but because she will be the student that teachers can one day be proud of. He might tell her this if it did not make her explode and also because Amy Santiago understands him, so he just smiles.

They had barely reached the terminal before Charles pounced on Jake. Amy and the kids barely had the time to move away from being hit. Genevieve and Amy unload the luggage while the kids catch up. It takes the men one whole minute before they let go.

"Genevieve, thank you so much for taking the kids", Amy says.

"Of course Nikolaj loves hanging out with Mac and Maya. It's my pleasure to watch them."

"Still, thank you! And Jake-"

"NO!", Charles almost pushes her down trying to get between Jake and her. "You get him every other day Amy, you cannot poach him away today."

"Charles, I am not trying to poach him away. I just wanted to tell him to enjoy the night and have fun. Also you visited not three weeks ago and you guys FaceTime constantly."

"FaceTiming is not the same Amy! It has been 28 days, 14 hours aaand three minutes since I have been covered in Jake's musk"

“Ugh! Alright", Jake says. "Charles, why don't you take these two bags and load them into the cab while Amy and I bring the rest?"

"Okay.", Charles says almost defeatedly. "Don't be late."

Jake turns to her. "So what are your plans again?"

"I will go to the hotel, have a long bath after which Rosa and Gina will come pick me up for the bachelorette party after which both will crash with me because according to Gina quote if I am going to stand next to you as a bridesmaid, you need to at least be six and you need help with that unquote"

"I still can't believe Cindy asked you and Gina to be one of the bridesmaids"

"Well, we did help them get together."

"Yeah. And as this goes on, I will be with Charles hoping whatever he made is edible and missing you terribly"

"Stop being a sap Peralta. And have fun tonight"

"It’s Peralta- Santiago, FYI. And I will 100% have fun, but I'm still gonna miss you. I gotta go before Charles comes back. I love you"

"I love you too."

It was a tiring night and Amy just wants to take her makeup off and she really wants to be out of this dress for more than one reason. As much as she loves her kids- and that is a lot- she is glad that they wanted to stay at Holt's place. The kids love their Fauxpas (they are her kids, of course they know what faux pas means and more importantly, when Mac very proudly said it, both Kevin and Holt agreed that "it is a humorous wordplay"). Mac can never get enough of Holt's stories and Maya loves the Classics. She can recite Odyssey from memory. And both of them get away with things that only they (and maybe her husband) can- some stains of orange juice, mud in the house, a few broken glasses- all.of these are forgiven because it's their fauxchildren's doing (it doesn't work as well, but Holt was proud and Maya laughed and so it stuck). And after two days of wedding prep, she really needs a day without being worried about someone breaking something or constantly screaming. And even more than that with the way her husband has been looking at her all night, she really, really needs to be the one screaming.

She is halfway through taking off her makeup when Jake, sans jacket, (but with tie and damn, her husband looks fine) walks in. He puts his hand on her waist. "Babe, do you know how hot you look?"

"Oh is it the running mascara that does it for you?"

He pulls her in closer and from his look she knows that the screaming she was hoping is definitely happening. He says in a low voice into her ear, "No. It's you." It's like each word he says vibrates inside her. "You having been driving me crazy all day. You in that blue dress. You knowing exactly how amazing your butt looks in that dress. You taking control when everything was falling apart. It's you Ames who does it for me."

She turns around and pulls him by the tie and kisses him hard and he's lifting her up onto the counter, kissing every bit of her as he lowers his head between her legs. She thanks the stars that this is her life partner.

(And later she'll counting the same as Jake twists his wrist in the way that he knows will bring over the edge.)

Every time Jake sees his wife, he falls in love with her a little more. Which he wouldn't have believed possible sixteen years ago. She hasn't spotted him, so he takes her in for a minute. Every time he steps into Shaw's Bar, he remembers walking in as a newly wed couple. Sure afterwards the evening did take a turn, but until then it was perfect. Except before that when there was a bomb threat and an actual bomb and Teddy proposing like a thousand times. Wow, his wedding day was a mess. But still it was one of the happiest days of his life because even through all that, he was hitched to the most beautiful woman in the world. Who is now watching everyone waiting for him.

So he walks up to her, drinks in hand and says, “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

"Ooh , Casablanca", she takes a glass. "Yes. Charles and I watched it yesterday. We didn't even know what was going on half the time because Charles was crying and making noises half the time."

"Oh, just Charles?" "Okay fine I was crying a little too. Okay a lot. Fine I was the one who was crying the most. Happy?"

"Oh babe. It's cute that you think you should say that to me as if you didn't watch it for the first time with me"

"Oh yeah. Well, I tried. Oh before you ask, the kids are all at the Jeffords' house and Cagney and Lacey are keeping an eye on them. And the best part: without a babysitter's fee."

"Wow, I really missed friends' kids doing things for us for free. Remember when we babysat Cagney and Lacey for like three days straight, without even thinking of money?"

"And if we were to go by the amount our babysitters charge, we'd have enough money to buy Orangina for a whole month."

They move to the counter, perched on the barstools. "You know Captain Holt just called me Captain"

"He's been calling you a Captain for a year babe, you know, cause you've been a Captain for a year!"

"I know! Can you believe?!"

"Of course, because you are awesome and amazing"

"Oh, and he also said that he's still my mentor and that I can call him for advice any time."

"Wow, obviously today was a big day for you"

"I know" Her whole face is lit up. Her cheeks are flushed, from the drinks and the running around making things happen, from the many catching up and from the fact that her mentor called her Captain. Once again he's a little bit more in love. His eyes catch Cindy and Scully awkwardly shuffling around trying to dance. Hitchcock is trying to hide the fact that he's disappointed, but doing a pretty bad job of it. He sees Charles and Genevieve almost having sex which apparently is how they dance. The music changes to something familiar and his wife looks amazing and he wants to dance with her very much. "Amy Santiago- Peralta, may I have this dance? And don't worry, it's reinforced shoes so I won't even know if you step on me." "Ha ha Peralta- Santiago. You are my teacher, so if I'm stepping on your toes, it's your own fault"

"Wow, blaming the victim."

They are on the dance floor, her hand in his, hand on his shoulder, his on her waist. He can see every little detail on her face, the mascara running a bit, lipstick that's smudged. Her perfectly set hair, falling around the edges. She's beautiful.

"I wonder why all the greatest love stories are so tragic"

"Because that's what makes them great. The fact that their love is so powerful that it's unattainable."

"Well I think that it's stupid."

"What?"

"That the greatest love of our life is the one we don't have. It's categorically untrue. My favourite love story has a happy ending anyway"

"You mean Morticia and Gomez?"

"That's my second favourite"

"Well, what's your first?"

"Ours, of course" She smiles and that's all he ever wants to see.

Her hand is in his, the other moves to his chest. His are around her waist circling, as he pulls her closer and she rests her cheek on shoulder. He buries his nose in her hair and she nuzzles into his neck. If he'd imagined a perfect life sixteen years ago, not even in his wildest dreams he'd have thought he could feel like this.

#b99fandomevents #b99 fanfic #jake x amy #Okay #listen #it's my first time writing anything smut adjacent and so all I can hope for is that it isn't cringey #Also maybe the love story dialouge is a bit cheesy #and maybe it really doesn't mesh well #but i wanted it.#but honestly #i just hope yall enjoy this #i dont want my tags to be longer than the story #so ill stop.

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coruscantguard · 4 years

Text

Endless Night, Half a Sliver of Light

Requested by @roborails

Fox and Ahsoka for #98- “You’re actually a big softie, aren’t you?”

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table reads 02:09.

Nighttime on the Coruscant Guard’s ship is much quieter than she’s used to it being on the Resolute. It makes sense, since it’s a smaller ship, and there are less people on it, but the quiet still puts her on edge. In her experience, quiet is rarely a good thing

Barriss would disagree with that, but Barriss also reads ancient texts on Force philosophy in her free time, and eats space waffles without cooking them, so Ahsoka is inclined to disregard her opinion here.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table has progressed to read 02:10.

The Guard’s ship is also quieter than the Temple, but in a less tangible way for anyone who is not Force-sensitive. While the Temple tends to be quiet and peaceful, the Force is always very alive in it. There’s a feeling of home that comes with all those strong Force signatures, and it’s an eternal reminder that she’s not alone. That as a Jedi, she’ll never have to truly be alone in the galaxy.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table now reads 02:11.

Her attempts to go to sleep and the ever present quiet aren’t mixing in a way that’s conducive to her getting any shuteye. The briefing ended hours ago. She’s still awake.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table still reads 02:11.

Ahsoka groans, buries her face into her pillow, and lets out a muffled scream.

The embarrassment from her little social mishap earlier is hitting full force now that the planning is done for the night, and she has nothing to distract herself with. She’s been wallowing in it, she knows that. Her attachment to those feelings is the furthest thing from productive, and she should be releasing it into the Force. There’s nothing she can do to correct the situation until morning comes.

She should release it to the Force. It's helping no one, and making her feel worse. She really should release it to the Force.

She’s not releasing it to the Force.

Master Anakin felt that Senator Amidala needed additional security, kriff’s sake, Ahsoka. Did she seriously say that? Force, it’s like all of Master Obi-Wan’s diplomacy training just flew out the window. And all the basic manners the Temple taught her.

“Ahsoka, you utter di’kut,” she mutters, and rolls over, flopping her legs off her bunk. The room is small enough that her feet can nearly brush the opposite wall, and she uses her toes to inch her torso off the bed until she can. Heck yes.

Not that he thinks you guys can’t handle it, her brain reminds her, efficiently quenching any joy that her victory brought. It’s just, well, Master has this thing about Senator Amidala, because like, they’re really close friends, right? So--

She groans again, and reaches a hand out to grab her pillow so she can smother herself with it. Right now, suffocation sounds like a great way to go.

Knight Skywalker, I regret to inform you that your padawan has joined the Force because she is a karking laserbrain who keeps putting her shoe on the other side of her mouth.

When Ahsoka pulls the pillow off her face, she’s disappointingly still in the land of the living, and the clock on her bedside table now just says 02:13. She manages to resist the urge to chuck the pillow at said clock, instead opting to throw it at the wall in front of her.

The pillow bounces off the control panel, and her door hisses open. The pillow falls to the ground by her feet, and Ahsoka forces herself to close her eyes, take a few seconds to breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Release your anger to the Force, young padawan. Do not use the Force to pick up your pillow and slam it into the clock, young padawan. Vandalism is not the Jedi way.

When she’s sufficiently managed to breathe through most of her anger and annoyance, she opens her eyes again.

Ahsoka calmly looks at her now open door. She looks at the pillow on the ground. She looks back at the door. Then back to the pillow. Then back at the door.

Well. There’s no way she’s going to sleep at this rate. Might as well see if anyone else is up.

She manages to pull herself up from her half on the bed, half off it position without using her hands, lets out a silent cheer in the form of a fist pump, and pops her head out of her room to look around. There’s nothing to the left, but when she swivels her head to the right, she sees some kind of faint yellow light at the end of the hallway, where the officer’s lounge is.

It’s as good of a sign as any, so Ahsoka grabs her lightsaber, clips it to her belt, and leaves her room. As she makes her way down the ship’s hallway, she instinctively reaches out with the Force to get a sense of what she’s walking into.

She senses only one other presence nearby, and one that flows easily with the jigsaw pattern of the world around her. With a bit of concentration, she’s able to catch sight of a flash of gunmetal grey, which makes it easy to figure out who the presence is.

Commander Fox’s Force presence is unassuming, both in it’s color and it’s general feel. Unlike Anakin, who’s Force presence was more akin to a supernova, the Commander of the Coruscant Guard’s presence was steady, unwavering, slightly darker than most non-Force sensitives tended to feel, but not enough to actually be concerning. The only thing that’s even remotely odd is the lack of color around him, but that’s not bad either, just different.

The door slides open automatically as she reaches the end of the hall, and the adjacent lounge. She silently slips inside, and the sound of flimsi rustling greets her.

Fox is sitting at a table near the back of the room, head bowed, presumably reading the pile of flimsiwork in front of him. On one side of the table, his bucket sits beside his elbow, and on the other side, there’s a cup of what at least smells like caf to Ahsoka. She realizes, belatedly, that this is the first time she’s ever seen him without his bucket on.

He looks old. Tired. Like he’s Master Obi-Wan’s age, not Skyguy’s. Not that Master Obi-Wan is old, of course, but… whatever. Moving on.

“Commander Fox,” she greets, and steps further into the room. He looks up from the flimsiwork, but thankfully doesn’t bother saluting.

“Commander Tano,” Fox says, and he slides his bucket closer to him as he stands up. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I’m not… looking for anything,” she replies quickly. “I saw the light, and I got curious.”

Fox nods, and another spike of guilt gnaws her. She does her best to ignore it. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” he says, and it’s with a practiced politician’s calm that Ahsoka recognizes from her time around Senators Chuchi and Amidala. “There’s caf by the stove, if you’re in the mood.”

Caf. Kriff yes. Skyguy would never give her caf at 2am.

It takes three tries to find the cabinet that has mugs in it, and she pulls out the biggest one. As she starts to pour the caf into her mug, she looks over at the table. Fox has sat back down, and he looks just as engrossed in the pile of flimsi as he had when she came in.

Ahsoka finishes filling her mug, adjusts the sugar-to-caf ratio so it’s drinkable, and takes a small sip. It’s on the edge of being too hot, but it doesn’t actually burn her mouth, so she deems it satisfactory. She turns back to face Fox, and asks, “What are you working on?”

He doesn’t spare her a glance as he answers, “Reports, mostly. There’s never an end to the flimsiwork when the Senate gets involved.”

“Oh,” she says. Fox picks up a stylus, sets a stack of flimsi to the side, and moves onto another piece of flimsiwork. ...Right. Okay. Time to entertain herself. She can do that.

Her eyes dart around the room. Military sparse, nothing unusual. The lights are only half on, upon closer inspection. There’s nothing particularly remarkable around.

Carefully, she nudges herself up onto her tiptoes, and glances over Fox’s head at the flimsiwork. It’s all just words and numbers, none that catch her attention, and she’s about to look away when Fox moves the next piece of flimsi over. This one is different in that it has a photo on it.

It’s a portrait shot of a man, like what one would find on an ID card. He looks older than her, but not by too much, and vaguely familiar in the way many beings look due to all the different planets she’s visited. There’s something about this one that she knows, though, and she focuses harder on that knowledge, wracks her memory trying to connect the navpoints. Young, clean-cut, memorable but still one in a crowd-- “Is that one of Senator Organa’s aides?”

Fox doesn’t jump at the interruption, or react to her prying, just gives her a cursory glance before turning back to the flimsi. “Yes, Christoforos Massimo, de domo Mac Ghabhann.” Fox replies, and his voice is clipped, but not to the point of being rude. “He was one of Senator Organa’s aides. He’s also the third senatorial aide to die of mycotoxin poisoning in the last year.”

Oh. She looks back at the photo, lets herself feel the dull throb of regret that follows. It’s not-- she didn’t know him, not well enough to know his name, but all life is important, and she did recognize him. That’s something. It’s always something.

Still, he’s with the Force now, so she lets herself feel, but then she makes herself let it go. He’s not gone, not truly. No one ever is.

Ahsoka eventually takes another sip of her caf, and runs Fox’s words through her brain again. Mycotoxin poisoning, mycotoxin poisoning, mycotoxin-- “Wait, isn’t that poison that has cerulean slime mold in it?”

Fox signs something, then nods. The signature is longer than she would’ve expected, but she’s unable to read it, as he swiftly places the flimsi at the bottom of the stack. “The mold’s name is technically kytrogorgia, but, yes.”

“That’s evidence of foul play, right?”

“Not definitively,” he says, and takes a sharp breath in, slowly lets it out. “There can be accidental deaths because of it, but it’s rare to find naturally occurring on Coruscant.”

“Huh.”

Ahsoka goes back to drinking her caf, keeping her face by the mug so the heat of it warms her face. Poisonings. Huh. It makes sense that the Guard would deal with that, she just… never thought of it.

The silence of the ship is… odd. Besides the distinctive hum of hyperspace, and the scratching of Fox’s stylus, it’s quiet, a quiet she hasn’t experienced much since leaving the creche. Fox evidently has no issue with it.

She shouldn't have an issue with it.

“Doesn’t that mold smell like overripe kakadu fruit?” She suddenly asks. “I think Obi-Wan mentioned something about it a few weeks ago.”

“It has a relatively distinctive bitter citrine smell, yes.” Fox stops writing, and turns to look at her. She takes a sip of caf. “...Is poison a regular topic of discussion for the Jedi?”

Ahsoka pauses, thinking about it. “Not really,” she says. “I mean, we have an elective class on it, but that’s about it. Obi-Wan just likes that kind of stuff, you know, molds and rare species of worms and the like. It drives Skyguy up the wall.”

Fox makes a noncommittal sound, turns back to the flimsi, and starts writing again. “Sounds like one of my brothers.”

Ahsoka snickers. Then, carefully, remembering Barriss’s last comm call, and the look on her face when she mentioned the flesh-eating moths the 41st ran into, she asks, “Is there any chance that brother is Commander Gree of the 41st Elite Corps?”

Fox doesn’t quite smile, but the corners of his lips definitely twitch. “No comment,” he says dryly, confirming her hunch.

“Do you think Massimo was murdered?” Ahsoka asks, and her voice is quieter than she means it to be. Fox frowns, but he doesn’t comment immediately, so she leans in over his shoulder to get a closer look at the report. “This could all just be a coincidence.”

“It could be,” Fox agrees. “But when the Senate’s involved, assuming something is a coincidence usually ends with someone like Aurra Sing showing up, as it’s actually part of some larger conspiracy.” He grimaces. “Still, I don’t like the look of this, so lets hope you’re right.”

It’s not an actual answer to her question, but she doesn’t press, just hums in acknowledgement, and steps away. She moves to the other side of the table, and sets her mug down on it, then walks over to the stacks of chairs against the far wall. It’s easy to pull one off the top, and carry it back to the table, let it thunk down on the durasteel floor. She’s mentally weighing the merits of sitting down against those of raiding the pantry for snacks when a flash of movement catches her eye.

“What was that?” She asks, and moves forward, eyes scanning the officer’s lounge, montrals straining to pick up any noise.

“Hm?”

There’s another burst of movement seconds later, a pitter-patter of paws accompanied by a blur of fur, ears, and a large fluffy tail that quickly disappears under the sofa. She must’ve disturbed it when she moved the chair.

“Is there any chance that there’s a loth cat on this ship?”

Abruptly, Fox’s stylus stops moving. “What?”

Ahsoka cranes her head to the side, trying to catch sight of the blur again. “I think I just saw a loth cat.”

Silence. Then-- “Is it grey?”

She opens her mouth to reply right as the blur comes speeding out from under the couch, and she barely twists out of the way in time as it launches itself at the table. It lands on the table with a thump, and turns to look at her for a second, accessing.

Then it moves over to the flimsiwork, and rubs its head against Fox’s hand and stylus, before flopping down on the flimsi, and starting to purr.

Ahsoka stares at it silently for a minute, then bursts out giggling. “Yeah, it looks to be a grey cat,” she somehow manages to say. “Why do you ask?”

Fox sighs. “Commander Thire apparently has less sense than I thought he did,” he says, and he’s staring at the grey loth cat as well, a look of resigned exasperation etching away at his bland facade of indifference. The cat rubs its head on Fox’s bucket.

Ahsoka snorts, then pauses, frowning. She leans in, and-- “Isn’t this Senator Chuchi’s cat?

She examines the cat further. It blinks it’s yellow eyes at her. “This is definitely Senator Chuchi’s cat.”

Fox sighs again. “Yes,” he replies, his voice long-suffering. “If I’m remembering correctly, her name is Mayday.”

“Mayday?” Ahsoka questions, wrinkling her nose. Weird. “Why would the Senator name her cat after a distress signal?”

“Why indeed,” Fox says, and he looks pained, but nothing in his Force presence backs that up. All she can sense around him is a feeling of vague indifference. It’s mildly disconcerting.

“Why is Senator Chuchi’s cat on one of the Guard’s ships?” She asks, turning her attention back to more important things. The cat- Mayday is now stretching on the table. Ahsoka is pretty sure loth cats aren’t usually supposed to be on tables, but Fox doesn’t seem to care, so, whatever.

“Why indeed,” Fox repeats, and reaches a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes closed. “Force. If I run into Thire anytime soon, it’s going to end in property damage.”

Right as he’s lowering his hand, the loth cat’s tail flicks up, and hits him straight in the face. Ahsoka clasps her hands over her mouth to muffle her laughter, but she’s not very successful in that endeavor. Fox’s eyes are still shut when he sighs, and it’s a sigh that reinforces the expression of long-suffering pain on his face. Then he reaches one hand up to scratch behind Mayday’s ears.

It takes away from the dramatics of the sigh, but Mayday seems to like it, so Ahsoka lets it slide. The cat’s tail flicks again, and this time it hits the underside of Fox’s neck, drawing her attention to the edge of a scar--

“Sithspit, what the kark happened to your throat?” She blurts out, her jaw dropping. There’s an ugly scar across it, deep and painful looking, like someone tried to literally slit his throat, and very nearly succeeded.

“Well, it’s a funny story,” Fox says, and his voice is as dry as the Geonosis desert. He looks up from Mayday to meet Ahsoka’s eyes. “Someone tried to slit my throat.”

Ahsoka stifles a snort. Oh man, the 501st better work a mission with the Guard soon. Anakin and Fox would get along like a spaceship on fire that ends up exploding. It would be friendship at first dramatic understatement.

Fox gives Mayday a few more pets, then steps backwards, away from the table, and gestures at Ahsoka. It takes her a few seconds to realize what he’s getting at, but when she does, she wastes no time taking the spot he abandoned.

She moves so that she’s a bit farther back than Fox had been-- he obviously had a history with Mayday that she lacked-- and crouches down so that she’s eye level with the cat. Once it meets her eyes, she forces herself to blink as slowly as possible, the closed eyes a silent gesture of trust and vulnerability.

Mayday blinks slowly back at her.

Kriff yes, kriff yes, kriff yes!

She holds out her hand, moving her head slightly to the side to make her gaze less intense, and it takes all her Jedi training not to cheer as Mayday comes to nuzzle her hand. Force, would the Resolute be a safe environment for a loth cat? Surely they could make it safe, right? A cat would undoubtedly help improve morale. Maybe she could convince Senator Chuchi to let her borrow Mayday when she pitches the idea to Skyguy and Rex, just to help sway their support to her cause.

“The nape of her neck,” Fox says, interrupting her planning. “Or the small dip behind her left ear. Stay away from her tail unless you’d like her to claw your face off, though.”

Nape of neck. She could do that. “Speaking from experience?”

Fox actually huffs a laugh at that. “Let’s just say that Vice Chair Amedda and the concept of respecting personal boundaries get along in the same way that Senator Amidala gets along with Viceroy Gunray.”

Ahsoka stops petting Mayday, and spins around to look him in the eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I have to give kudos to his medical team. Those scratches definitely should’ve scarred.”

“Force, seriously?” He nods, and Ahsoka grins, not even bothering to try and hide her teeth. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like that guy. That’s hilarious.”

“The Chancellor thought so as well,” Fox says offhandedly, and crosses his arms, leans back against the counter. “I mean, he muffled his laughter quickly, but…”

“Sith hells,” she breathes out. “I think I might want to be on Senate rotation more often, if that’s what goes down there.”

Fox winces, takes a sharp breath in, and shakes his head. “Unfortunately, that sort of incident rarely happens. Usually, it’s just a lot of yelling.” He pauses, looks over her shoulder, and, “I think Mayday may have taken our lack of attention personally.”

Ahsoka spins around, and sure enough, the grey cat is jumping off the table, and heading for the door. “Awwwwwwwwwww, no,” she says, disappointed.

They watch Mayday leave the room in silence. Once the door hisses shut behind her, Ahsoka goes back around the table, and slumps into her chair. Fox pulls out his comm with a sigh, and heads for the caf machine, picking up his mug on the way.

Whoever he calls picks up almost instantaneously.

“Senator Chuchi’s loth cat is on board. We need to keep it from the airlock and the hyperdrive. I’m putting you and Candor on cat-sitting duty.” He says, and starts to pour the caf into his cup. There’s a pause, where he doesn’t say anything, then, “Rocket, that’s an order, not a request. If you have an issue with this beyond the fact that you don’t want to, you can file a complaint, and Internal Affairs will look into it. But I warn you, if you interrupt Swan’s leave with a complaint about how this isn’t what you were made for, he won’t be merciful when he rips you a new one.”

The pause is longer this time. “Yes, well, Lieutenant Swan will learn the concept of mercy around the same time that Tatootine freezes over,” Fox says, and he sets the caf pot back down. “I trust you know where to find any supplies needed?”

This pause is only for a moment, presumably how long it takes the trooper on the other end to say yes, sir! Fox replies with a, “Fox out,” then hangs up the comm, sighs, and takes a long gulp of caf. Ahsoka pauses, briefly considers the possible consequences for her next words, and decides that it’ll be worth it.

“You’re actually a big softie, aren’t you?”

“What.” Unfortunately, he doesn’t spit out the caf, but he does do a double take. “Yeah, no, I’m sorry, what.”

She does her best to put on an innocent looking expression. “Oh man, you totally are.”

“...Commander Tano, as you chose your next words, I’d advise that you keep in mind the fact that I can put you on cleaning duty if I feel like it.”

“Ugh,” Ahsoka grumbles, dropping the charade. “Wait. No? We’re both Commanders. I could just put you on cleaning duty right back.”

Silence that follows that statement. Fox’s face is unreadable. “Have you read the regs?”

Uh-oh. “Why are you asking?

“Have you?”

Kriff kriff kriff kriff-- “How about… I’d like to invoke the fourth right of sentience?”

“Force, Commander,” Fox’s tone sounds similar to the one Kix uses when he’s exasperated. Ahsoka winces reflectively, because an exasperated Kix is not a fun Kix. “First of all, when you’re invoking a right, don’t make it sound like a question. You’re not asking to invoke your right, you’re not saying that you’d like to invoke it, you are invoking it.”

“Are you seriously--”

“And secondly, just say that you’re invoking your right to remain silent. I applaud you for remembering exactly what right it is, but it’s usually best to be as direct as possible in these matters. First and fourth sound alike enough in Basic that you could run into some real trouble if an officer “mishears” you, and the right to be free from slavery is not helpful when you’ve allegedly committed murder in the first.”

“You don’t need to tell me this, I’m not a youngling.”

“You sure about that?” Ahsoka glares at him, and opens her mouth to retort, but Fox cuts her off again. Kriffing chizk. “Thirdly, yes, I am the highest ranking officer here. Jedi Commanders have authority over everyone up to and including Clone Captains. They’re subordinate to Clone Commanders and Jedi Generals”

“...Right,” she says, “I… totally knew that.”

“Really.”

“Yes!”

There’s no verbal response, but Fox rests his elbow on his bucket, and blinks at her.

“I did!” She protests. The look on his face tells her that he doesn’t buy a second of it.

...Okay, time to move on. “Anyway, the fact that you’re my superior officer doesn’t mean that you aren’t also a big softie.”

His eye roll is unnecessary, and completely overdramatic. “There are a fair amount of people that would disagree with that assessment of Commander Fox’s character.”

Oh thank Force, he’s willing to go along with it.

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s a good thing Commander Tano isn’t asking those people then, huh?” Ahsoka sends back. Then she pauses to take a sip of her caf. “Now, is there a reason Commander Fox hasn’t actually answered Commander Tano’s original question yet?”

A beat of silence.

“Osik, you got me there,” Fox says, and Ahsoka lets out a whoop of celebration at the small victory. “Don’t go spreading it around, I have a reputation to uphold.”

She mimes locking her mouth, and throwing the key out the window. Fox doesn’t look particularly reassured by that, but he doesn’t comment on it either, so, victory.

Wow, if only she’d bothered to shut up earlier, her brain suddenly hisses at her, imagine how great that would’ve been.

Ahsoka takes a long, long drink of her caf, stopping only when she finishes the mup. She stares down at the mug mournfully, willing more caf to suddenly appear.

More caf does not suddenly appear.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s 2am, and that the distraction the caf provided is gone. Maybe it’s the guilt that’s still curling up her throat when she stops to think about it, the regret that’s coating every word she says. Maybe it’s the fact that the kitchen feels warm and comforting, the fact that it reminds her of the Temple and being safe, being able to make mistakes without having people die for them.

Whatever it is, it has her speaking again before she considers what she’s going to say, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she even processes them.

“Master Anakin is out of contact right now,” Ahsoka says quickly, and stares determinedly down at her mug. Oh kriff, kriff, kriff, did she really just-- oh, Force, kriff. Okay. Just… it’s a bacta patch, Ahsoka. It’s best to rip it off as quickly as possible. “He’s on Mygeeto. Since it’s Seppie space, it’s a risk to send any messages. He didn’t send me here. He doesn’t even know there’s a threat on Senator Amidala’s life.”

Silence. She doesn’t dare look up. She knows she’ll lose her nerve if she does.

“The Temple is really empty these days, and the 501st is with Anakin, so it’s really boring as well, cause literally all of my friends are on campaigns right now. And I overheard Master Windu mention something about the Chancellor, and security protocols, to Master Plo when they were in the refractory, and like, the Chancellor is Anakin’s friend, so I kinda just started... listening. I don’t know, I was curious. But they mentioned the threat on Senator Amidala, and Padme’s my friend, right? So I did some snooping, and I realized that there weren’t going to be any Jedi sent, and… it would kill Skyguy if anything happened to her, you know?”

Wow, that came out badly. Way to shift the blame again, Ahsoka. Great job, truly.

Commander Fox probably didn’t know about… them anyway. Kriff. Double kriff.

Excuses, you’re making, her mind whispers at her. Apologize, or don’t. Do, or do not. There is no try.

“It wasn’t Anakin that thought additional security might be needed,” She says, hurried, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “It was me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed that Jedi presence would be needed to keep Senator Amidala safe, and I definitely shouldn’t have just used that assumption to try and justify my actions.”

The next few seconds seem to stretch on forever. The dull void in the Force around Fox feels more oppressive than ever, the absence of anything leaving Ahsoka stranded in the middle of an ocean, with no life raft to cling to, and nothing that gives her even the littlest bit of direction. Commander Fox doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any sudden movements that her montrels detect, and she finally forces herself to peak up from her mug.

He looks floored. Half stupefied, half incredulous.”I- you- what?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but he raises his hand in the halt symbol, rubs at one of his temples with the other. “Sorry. I’m just- so, you got yourself put on this mission… because you were bored.” He says. She nods. He shakes his head. “Because you were bored, and thought you knew better than the Jedi Council and all of the Generals. Force. That’s… something.”

“Yeah, my justifications definitely made a lot more sense in my head,” Ahsoka admits weakly, forcing herself to loosen her grip on the mug. “I shouldn’t of--”

“It’s… fine, kid. Trust me,” he says, and there’s the edge of something twisting in the Force, some kind of internal conflict she’s catching flashes of. It’s the most activity she’s ever seen with his Force presence. “I hear worse on a daily basis. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Ahsoka frowns. “But that doesn’t make it okay.”

The look he gives her is undecipherable, but she can tell that it’s weighted. Weighted in a way she’ll probably never understand, in a way she doesn’t think she wants to understand.

“No,” Fox finally says. “It doesn’t make it okay.” The words come out hushed, as if it's a forbidden confession, some kind of radical heresy, blasphemous in it’s very nature.

Something loosens in his Force presence with that, an alteration so small that Ahsoka’s surprised that she even notices the change. It looks like a ray of light cutting through the lacuna that surrounds him. It sounds like a breath of fresh air, and it creates a sudden connection, a burst of clarity where there had been none before. It feels like leaving the core worlds, how it seems as if a switch is flipped when one gets far enough from Coruscant, and the Force suddenly becomes so much clearer.

Ahsoka looks down, looks away, pulls her attention away from the metaphysical world of the Force. This isn’t something she’s supposed to see, and given the fact that Fox isn’t Force-sensitive, it’s not like he’s going to raise his own shields and block her off. She busies herself with trying to get any remaining bits of caf out of her mug instead, anchors her mind firmly in the physical world.

Fox doesn’t say anything else for a few long minutes, just stands, staring off into space, that look still on his face. When he speaks again, his voice is back to normal.

“Thank you for your honesty, Commander Tano,” Fox says, ducks his head to stare down at his drink for a few seconds. Ahsoka places her mug back on the table while he ruminates. When he meets her eyes again, the undecipherable look is gone. “And thank you for your apology. It means more than you know.”

Ahsoka nods. She’s not sure if she should say something, or if this is one of the times silence is better. He seems more comfortable in the quiet than she ever will be, so she bites down on her tongue--

“Right,” he says, and abruptly stands up, jarring her from her thoughts. “I’m going to make some more caf. Do you want a refill?”

Kriff yes she wants a refill. “Yes, please.”

#commander fox #ahsoka tano #tcw #the clone wars #my writing #prompts

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sparring-hyena · 4 years

Text

mac and cheese with ketchup.

because the recent chapter was... something, i felt like i had to write this piece before i write anything else. i’ll be addressing what happened in the chapter, so a trigger warning for a brief mention of harassment does apply.

it’s after midnight when AJ’s phone pings. it’s Zoey checking in. asking if she’s safe and if she wants some company. AJ reaches for her phone and types a quick response out.

[12:24am] AJ: i’m fine. just felt like being alone for a bit. don’t wait up.

[12:24am] Zoey: okay. be safe. call if you need to.

[12:24am] AJ: i will. thanks.

AJ tosses her phone back onto the table, sinking back in the booth, and tipping her head back. she lets her eyes fall closed and for the first time in since everything happened, actually lets her mind wander.

she hates the image that her mind decides to conjure up. that god-awful shrine in the back of Benji’s closet. it makes her shudder. but still. she keeps her eyes closed. forces herself to think about it. to remember it. because maybe if she thinks about it, it won’t bother her as much.

“refill, love?” a voice, a warm and older voice, says.

AJ snaps her eyes open, heart thumping against her rib cage. she takes a moment to refocus her attention. remind herself of where she is: some 24 hour diner with pale yellow walls, dim lights, and tattered grey booths lining the walls.

“what?” AJ says, shaking her head free of the image.

“refill?” the woman says again, nodding to the empty mug, still patient and with a warm smile that reminds AJ so much of her mother back home.

“oh, uh, yes, please.”

the woman fills AJ’s mug and looks at AJ a lot like a mother would look at their daughter. “you okay?”

AJ forces a smile. it doesn’t quiet reach her eyes. “just tired. had a busy few days.”

the woman nods, doesn’t seem to believe it, but doesn’t push for answers. “get you anything to eat?”

AJ’s about to decline. but then she has an image of home. an image of late nights spent in the kitchen with her sister where they’d make some of that box mac and cheese after a particularly shitty day. “do you have mac and cheese?”

“sure do.”

“could i just have a bowl of that, please?”

“of course.” the woman writes the order down and disappears into the kitchen.

it’s probably ten minutes later that a warm bowl of mac and cheese is placed down in front of AJ. and normally she’s not one to add ketchup to her mac and cheese, but her sister is, and right now, AJ misses her sister. so she pours some ketchup over the mac and cheese, and even though it kinda ruins the meal for her, she feels a little less alone.

she pays the bill not long later, leaves a generous tip on the table, and steps out onto the dark and cold street. a quick check of her phone tells her it’s getting closer to one o’clock. she should really go back to her dorm and try get some sleep. she’s got a class tomorrow. but she can’t. she can’t bring herself to walk back onto that campus.

she’s about to start walking. maybe try find a bar she can sit at for a bit. but just in her peripheral vision she sees someone. Poppy.

AJ sighs. of course she’d run into Poppy.

they lock eyes for a moment. stand in the orange glow of the street light. and then AJ just turns and leaves. she walks down the street and buries her hands deep her in pockets to fight off the chill that’s starting to set in.

“AJ, wait,” Poppy calls out, and she even jogs to catch up.

“what?” AJ snaps when Poppy catches up. “can’t we just pretend that we didn’t see each other?”

“i just...” Poppy sighs. “i’m sorry.”

and that... AJ hadn’t been expecting that.

“i shouldn’t have said that you made it up. that you’d lied about what he did. and all the other stuff i did too. that was cruel and completely uncalled for.”

“well... thanks?”

and Poppy actually looks surprised, maybe a little confused and... offended?

“that’s it?” Poppy says.

AJ shrugs. “yeah? what’d you expect me to say?”

“more.”

“you want ‘more’?” it’s AJ’s turn to look offended. “you were horrible to me! i don’t care if you want ‘more’. that’s all i can give right now.”

“i apologised,” Poppy says, her tone cold.

“so?”

“i don’t apologise.”

“well, i think you really need to figure out why that is before you start asking for forgiveness.”

they stand in the silence for a moment. a cab whooshes past and AJ can see a few people stumble out of a bar a few blocks up.

“for what it’s worth,” AJ says, “i’m sorry too. for everything i did to you. but i think it might be a good idea if we stay away from each other for a bit. you’ve got stuff you need to figure out and i just... i think i need a break from everything for a while. so, thanks for the invite to your party, but i’m not going.”

and then AJ leaves.

the weeks drift by and AJ keeps mostly to herself. she only really leaves her dorm for class, to pick up food, and the occasional dinner out when Zoey suggests they get off campus for a bit. she goes back to the dinner a few times. always by herself and always to eat a bowl of mac and cheese with ketchup. she watches movies with Zoey even though they both have a mountain of work to do. it’s nice. it makes remembering what happened with Benji a little easier.

“i think i’m ready,” AJ says late one night, movie credits rolling on the screen.

“ready?” Zoey says, looking up from her phone.

“to go out.”

a hesitant smile begins to bloom across Zoey’s face. “are you sure? because there’s not rush.”

“yeah. i think it’s time. and besides, i kinda miss it.”

and then that hesitant smile turns into a real smile and Zoey’s talking so fast AJ’s having a little trouble keeping up. she does catch something about a party the football boys are throwing at the end of the week.

Friday comes and they go to the party. it’s fun and easy and AJ really loves that no one’s mentioning that this is the first time she’s been out since Benji. she dances, talks, laughs, plays some games with everyone, and has something to drink too.

Poppy’s there too, AJ realises about half-way through the night. they stare at each other from across the backyard. they don’t say anything. simply offering a polite nod before they both go back to doing what they were doing.

after that Friday night, AJ starts easing back into her old routine. she still sees Poppy a few times a week around campus, but neither of them offer more than a simple nod.

it’s a few weeks later when, along with the polite nod, AJ offers Poppy a genuine smile when they see each other across the quad. a smile which Poppy returns with one of her own.

the months drift by. winter comes and goes, and now they’re about half-way through their spring quarter. AJ’s okay now. she still has days where the memories are too much, but she knows how to deal with days like those.

she still visits that diner with the pale yellow walls, dim lights, and tattered grey booths. enjoys a bowl of mac and cheese with ketchup each time she visits because it makes her think of home. of her sister. and even though she goes to the diner to be alone and think. she needs some kind of reminder that she’s not completely alone in this world.

she’s at another party now. can’t quiet remember the reason the hosts decided to have it. maybe just for the hell of it. that seems like reason enough.

it’s the end of the night and AJ’s in the kitchen, sitting on the counter and munching away at the bag of chips she found in a cupboard. they’re a little stale, but she’s a little drunk, so she doesn’t really care.

then Poppy walks into the kitchen, red solo cup in hand, and they both freeze in place.

“hey,” AJ says, suddenly feeling a lot more sober.

“hi,” Poppy says.

“fun night?”

Poppy shrugs. “it’s okay. you?”

“it’s good.” AJ clicks her tongue, figures they need something to fill the silence. “want some?” she offers the bag of chips to Poppy.

“no thank you.”

AJ nods and then jumps down from the counter. “well, i’ll let you get back to it.” she turns to leave but stops when Poppy speaks.

“i figured it out.”

“what?” AJ turns back to face her and moves a little bit closer.

“why i don’t apologise. there are a few reasons, but i think the main one is that i don’t want to be seen as weak. like, if i admit that i’m wrong or concede to someone, then they’ll walk all over me.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“what are the other reasons?”

“i’m stubborn.”

“i could have told you that.”

they both smile at that, because they both know what she’s talking about. that night they shared in Poppy’s room all those months ago, and Poppy had insisted on trying those beauty products on AJ.

“and,” Poppy says after a moment, suddenly serious, “i also don’t want to be less than perfect. i can’t be less than perfect. my parents, they’re...” she trails off, hopes that AJ can fill in the blank for herself.

“oh.” AJ swallows and wrings her fingers together. “do you wanna talk about it?”

Poppy shakes her head. “i don’t think here” —she gestures widely to the party— “is a good spot for that.”

“right.”

“but maybe some other time? when we haven’t been drinking?” Poppy says, her voice hesitant.

“yeah.”

then they both offer each other shy smiles as they go their separate ways.

they start to talk after that though. nothing serious. just small trivial stuff. everyone else on campus seems to realises that they’re no longer at each other’s throats, but aside from a few whispered comments, no one really makes a big deal about it.

AJ likes that.

it’s towards the end of the semester when AJ lays awake in bed one night, drumming her fingers against her stomach, and watching the shifting pattern of the moonlight against the ceiling. she makes a split second decision and texts Poppy. sends her an address and tells her to meet her there.

AJ climbs out of bed and pulls on some clothes before slipping out from her dorm quietly so she doesn’t wake Zoey.

she sees Poppy standing under the orange glow of a street light as soon as she turns onto the block.

“is everything okay?” Poppy says, sounding concerned and worried for her friend as AJ jogs up to her. “why’d you want to meet here?”

AJ doesn’t say anything. just smiles and takes Poppy’s hand in her own as she pulls her into the diner with the pale yellow walls, dim lighting, and tattered grey booths.

“evening, AJ,” the woman says, offering one of those warm maternal smiles.

“hi, Cath,” AJ says as she leads Poppy to her favourite booth.

it’s a few minutes later, once Poppy and AJ are both seated across from each other, that Cath comes up to their table. AJ orders her regular and Poppy says she’ll just have whatever AJ’s having.

“why did you bring me here?” Poppy says once they’re alone again.

“i wanted to share it with you.”

Poppy leans forward a little. “is that the only reason?”

she’s fishing for answers. AJ knows that. what they have has always felt a little more. more than friends. more than casual hookup buddies.

“no.” AJ says. “can we talk about that later though? i really want to just have a simple and easy meal with you here.”

“okay.”

Cath comes back then. two bowls of mac and cheese in hand and a bottle of ketchup held under her arm. “enjoy, lovelies.”

Poppy eyes the food and then watches with abject horror as AJ adds ketchup to her mac and cheese.

“what?” AJ looks up at Poppy, as though she’s completely unaware of the wrong she’s doing.

“why?”

“why what?”

Poppy nods to the ketchup bottle in AJ’s right hand.

“i know it seems kinda weird, but it’s good. really.”

“i doubt that.”

“just try some.”

“no.”

“please.”

Poppy concedes and takes a forkful of food from AJ’s bowl. and it’s... good. surprisingly good actually.

“well?” AJ smiles, hopeful.

“i like it.”

and then AJ’s beaming.

they talk a little bit while they eat. but mostly, AJ’s just happy to eat in silence, and enjoy that Poppy is sitting across from her, eating mac and cheese with ketchup, in the diner with the pale yellow walls, dim lighting, and tattered grey booths.

#poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #queen b #playchoices #my writing

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anaami-the-witch · 3 years

Text

Stormy Nights - Eldan

(Just a lil’ one-shot for my friend about a ship we can’t and won’t get over ashkdfgadksjfhgasdjhf)

The air was cool, soothing to the skin, to the soreness in his scalp, and mildly painful to the cut on his lip. That was fine. Aidan exhaled, leaning on the railing of the balcony that looked over the city. His city, to be correct. What a view; colorful lights stretched out for miles, a city so alive just as he was ready to call it a night at nighttime for once.

Colorful, but not enticing...not anymore. The city had lost its allure, its charm, for quite some time. But now...now things were different. Different how?

Had their pretty purple eye and messy blue hair mesmerized him this badly? They might have. He was home when he wanted nothing more than to slip back under their sheets and entangle himself in them. The memories of their nails digging into his back, their gasps, the way they teased his ear; it was driving him nuts.

Aidan couldn’t stay. Fuck, but he wanted to. He wanted to throw away the fucking title he never wanted and bury himself inside El in so, so many ways.

‘Mine’

Oh Hell. His inner demon liked that idea. He needed to behave...for now. He didn’t want to take things too fast. He knew so little about El, just that he liked their energy, their smile, their sass whenever he gave them a hard time with how he liked his coffee. They were starting to catch up regardless, making corrections to his coffee based on his mood.

El was reading him like a goddamn book and it was both enticing and terrifying at the same time.

Lifting the collar of his shirt, he inhaled deeply, stifling a growl as he smelled them on him. Now he didn’t want to change, but the last thing he needed was his bodyguard harping on his ass about sleeping around again.

Speaking of, the bastard cleared his throat, though Mac knew very well that Aidan knew he was in the room before he spoke. “You’re back?”

“Yes,” Aidan replied with a soft sigh. “I’m back. What is it?” Too late to change, he mused, turning around as he rested his elbows on the railing.

Mac’s dark-skinned nose wrinkled right before he sighed. “Again, Aidan? Is it too much to stop laying around?”

“There’s no harm in it,” he spoke easily, smiling as he thought of them. “No harm whatsoever. You’re lucky I don’t bring them inside the house.”

“Please don’t,” Mac muttered, raking his claws through his silky white hair. “I don’t need anyone trying anything stupid, shit’s bad enough as it is right now.”

“Drama queen,” Aidan muttered, tilting his head back and staring at the world upside down. “No one knows nor will they try anything.” He tilted back up and smirked, his fangs threatening to grow longer. “I’d like to see them try.”

No one was going to touch El, as far as he was concerned. The two had only known each other for a week, perhaps two...but it was enough. He was suppressing his primal urges for them, refusing to reveal his doubt, nervousness, just in case he scared them off. El was indeed the first in a very long time to make him think about more than a night’s fuck.

No...he was starting to want far more.

Mac watched his charge with a scowl, shaking his head. “Don’t be stupid, Aidan, be careful. Please, we don’t need,” the demon paused, considering his words carefully when Aidan shot him a dangerous glare, “we don’t need anyone trying to hurt you again.”

“They aren’t like that,” Aidan dismissed his bodyguard’s worries. “Not from what I’ve seen.”

“You don’t know that,” Mac spoke softly, lavender eyes flickering away from his ruby ones. “You didn’t know before, or the time before that. I’m not saying cut them off. Just...be careful. You deserve more than another heartbreak.”

Aidan smiled, refusing to show how his teeth grit together. He was aware of his poor taste in lovers. They all showed themselves to be liars, cheaters, backstabbers. But there was something about this one, something tired, hesitant, charming, that was dragging him in slowly every night they shared together.

He was getting used to holding them, kissing them, leaving pretty little marks on their shoulders and neck that they had to scorn him about making the next day. It was all becoming familiar. Safe. Warm. So, so warm. Warm for him at least; El had no temperature to them, so their hands stole from him, fingertips dragging against his skin, body closing in on his.

It took Aidan everything not to jump over the railing and go to them. “I’ll be careful,” he promised, flashing an easy smile that he knew Mac didn’t trust.

What Mac didn’t know is that he’d have to be careful. If he, for even a moment, let himself fall for them, fall into them, there would be no going back. Aidan couldn’t fall again, get hurt again, but he could enjoy El. He could enjoy what it felt like to feel normal around someone else.

He could enjoy just being himself around them...save for the fact that they didn’t know who he actually was. He needed it to stay that way. Needed them safe, Gods, he needed them away from the spotlight.

If anyone hurt El, he’d never forgive himself for it.

Every moment he fought what his inner demon wanted, fought to keep El safe, and tried so, so damn hard not to fall in love with them. Every visit was becoming harder but the more he walked into those flames, the more he wanted to stay there; the more he wanted to burn.

But would it be worth it? Aidan shuddered at the idea of rejection, finally turning away from Mac as he stared out into the city. No, don’t think that way. Everything was fine...for now.

“Leave me,” he requested softly, exhaling even when he didn’t have to as Mac retreated from Aidan’s room. He needed to be alone in his thoughts and wishes. That might’ve been all he would’ve had with El. But… Gods, was it too much to ask for more?

Was it?

@qbanalras

#Aidan wilkins #oc #shipping #el #cyclops #demon #demons #romance #i'm weak #i will go down with this ship

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depizan · 3 years

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100 Days of Writing

I am so behind on @the-wip-project‘s 100 Days of Writing, and none of the prompts I’ve missed are really making my brain spark, so, uh, howabout

100 Days of Writing, Day Mac Just Made This Up: background character bits I’d like to work into fic, but am not sure if/when I’ll manage it

In an ideal world, Savler’s family would, at some point, make an appearance. Unfortunately, I don’t have much experience with large families or children, so I’m not sure if I could write them. I know she keeps in contact with them and visits occasionally with presents for her nieces and nephews and family friendly tales of her exploits as a Bounty Hunter. (Which means both keeping things PG for the kiddies and not calling too much attention to the fact that her job is largely hunting criminals...and her family, er, are criminals. It’s a bit awkward.)

Hell, even her cybernetic eye has only been mentioned in a ficlet that might be short enough to actually be a drabble. (This is partly because it didn’t occur to me right away that there’s no way she could’ve gotten the scar on her face without losing that eye, and partly because I am not always good at working these things into fic. It’s not like her eye does anything besides be an eye. I expect she doesn’t think of it much herself. Other than when she needs to get it serviced and ponders the question of whether she should have a fancier - if more obvious - eye. Like, are the advantage of special targeting hookups or different kinds of vision worth having a distinctive feature you can’t hide? She can slap makeup over the scar. A cybernetic eye that could do cool things would look like a cybernetic eye.)

Now that I think about it, I haven’t really addressed her dislike of spies in fic. Yeah, she spent a fic thinking the worst of Kyrian, but the underlying (and kind of hypocritical) issue of spies treating everyone as things never really came up. (Maybe she and Jez can talk about Jez’s SIS work sometime???)

I’m still struggling to actually work into fic Jezari’s backstory with regard to her father being killed by someone he thought was a friend and her (with Savler’s help) eventually hunting down the killer and shooting him lots. I know all that happened. Has any of that been mentioned in fic? Nope. (At least the fact that she didn’t know what her mom does did get worked into a ficlet.) At the rate I’m going, all of Jezari’s backstory will end up in the fic where her mom eventually reappears. (Assuming I figure out how to write that.) But maybe I have a chance to work at least a little of her back story into my current wip... Maybe.

I haven’t even actually mentioned how Jezari got into working for the SIS. (Though I don’t really need to. I’ve mentioned enough to get across the general idea that what she does for them has definitely expanded from what she started out doing for them. Still, it wasn’t “hey random probably criminal civilian, please do spy stuff for us.” It was “the probably criminal freighter pilot we hired to give our agent passage saved our agent, let’s keep her holofrequency in our files.”)

You’d think Kyrian’s parents having been killed in the war (as in they were Imperial military and died in a battle with the Republic) would be important backstory, especially with Jezari’s Republic connections. But he blames the war and not the Republic, so it really isn’t. (I didn’t set out to have him kind of collect tropes that don’t go like they’re supposed to, but he kind of has. The character orphaned by the war is supposed to hate the other side and be motivated by it. The character with a facial scar that was intended (the scar, not the injury) as punishment is supposed to be upset about that. The character who’s a spy is supposed to be manipulative and dishonest - either by nature or by habit. (Okay, manipulative, yes...sort of...in a diplomancing situations sense, not in a lying liar who lies sense.) I’m not even sure he did being caught between ethics and duty right, since he picked ethics and tried to filter duty through that. ... The hero who the villain costs (nearly) everything is supposed to seek revenge not decide that the best thing would be to never run into him again. Adventure characters are supposed to bounce back from bad shit by being willing/able to do violence again, not being willing/able to diplomance people again. Yeah, somehow he is the character who can’t do tropes right. Maybe I should be pondering what weird twist/alternative to being The Atoner he’ll come up with. Or it will just happen.)

Uh...that kind of drifted there toward the end. Oh well.

#100daysofwriting #Aori Savler #Jezari Solarin #Kyrian Nessar

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elsaclack · 4 years

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more than you know

There’s a chink in the old stained glass window in the building across the street.

Jake’s made a habit of staring at it whenever he’s perched in the windowsill in their living room - a perch he’s found himself visiting more and more often over the last few weeks, a perch he only discovered a mere eight months ago after living in this apartment for more than 2 years. There’s nothing particularly special about it - nothing particularly comfortable, either, if he’s being honest - but he’s had this image in his head for more years than he’d care to confess, of his wife, untamed hair up in a half-hearted way that screams more utility than style, nose buried in a book, framed in a window seat against a sky speckled with brilliant hues of blue and orange and pink.

(Since she was nothing more than a colleague, he’s had this mental image, born after a very long night that ended with him driving the two of them back to the precinct from a scene across town; she’d pulled a book from her work bag in his back seat and read the whole way back, the atmosphere soft and comfortable despite the silence, and when he’d glanced at her from the driver’s seat her silhouette was set against the just-peaking rays of the morning sunrise.)

He’s had this image, but her apartment let him down, because she doesn’t have a window seat full of overstuffed pillows and luxurious throw blankets like he’d imagined; she has a thin wooden windowsill, off-white paint chipped on one corner after a day of shifting furniture, and it’s hardly wide enough to even count as a perch because he’s found that if he stays there any longer than five minutes his butt starts to go numb.

There’s a chink in the old stained glass window in the building across the street, and Jake can see it all the way from here if he tilts his head and squints his eyes and the lighting outside is just right. It looks to be roughly the same size and shape as a credit card from here, though he’s certain that if he were to get up close and personal with it, it would probably be closer in size to his hand; he’s been studying it closely for quite some time, from his perch on the windowsill.

He settles there in the early evening one Sunday, body turned at just the right angle, left foot planted on the floor to keep his balance. The window is warm where it’s pressed against his right arm, but he can hardly feel it; his attention remains, as it has unfailingly for the last several weeks, on the squirming bundle in his arms.

(Who knew either he or Amy was genetically capable of producing such a chonk of a baby?)

“What’s it gonna be tonight, little man?” he asks softly of his son. Mac ignores him, a disquieted grunt escaping his throat as he works to escape his swaddle. “Have I told you about the three mouseketeers escaping the evil Lord Fluffytail? Oh, it was a crazy night, three little mice went tip, tip, tip” he punctuates each word with a gentle tap over Mac’s arm “through Lord Fluffytail’s castle to find the golden cheese, and right as they found it, they were caught! Lord Fluffytail tried to catch them, he chased them all over the castle up to the attic, and right before he finally caught them, they escaped! They broke the window and escaped down the gutter, and look! You can still see the spot where they escaped!”

He twists and angles his arm and points to the window across the street, but Mac appears utterly uninterested; his disgruntled grunts are increasing in frequency and volume, and Jake sighs, letting his shoulders slump slightly as he turns back to his original position. “Not feelin’ storytime tonight, huh, buddy? That’s okay. What do you wanna talk about?”

Mac grunts again - this one dangerously close to an actual cry.

“Okay, okay, sh,” Jake gently pats Mac’s back, ignoring the chubby feet pressing hard against his arm through the blanket. “What do you wanna talk about, bud? Wanna talk about how bad the Mavs are? Wanna talk about mashed peas? Wanna talk about mommy?”

It could be coincidence - it could be happenstance - but the creases between Mac’s brows seem to smooth out by a fraction the moment Jake says “mommy.”

“Okay, yeah, we can talk about mommy,” Jake says, shifting his position so that his back is pressed against the window behind him. “She’s the prettiest mommy in the whole world, huh? The prettiest and the smartest, and she loves you so much Mac-man.”

Mac grunts again, brow furrowed, the tip of his tongue only just visible between his lips. Jake smiles, adjusting his grip around Mac, the beginnings of a new story forming in his mind.

“Once upon a time, there was a very bad lady who wanted to do very bad things. She cheated and she lied and she stole - but worst of all, she made other people get in trouble for all the bad things that she did. Daddy and Tia Rosa decided that they were going to stop the bad lady, only the bad lady knew what daddy and Tia Rosa were going to do, and she got them in trouble for more bad things that she did! Daddy and Tia Rosa were sad, because they didn’t do anything wrong but they still had to go to ja- time-out.” He clears his throat, and Mac continues squirming. “Mommy worked so hard, she figured out how to show people that daddy and Tia Rosa didn’t do anything wrong, and that the bad lady was the one who was wrong - Mommy rescued daddy from time-out, because mommy loves daddy. And then, mommy and daddy had you, and they lived happily ever after.”

“I don’t remember reading that one in the modern fairy tale anthology,” says a soft voice from the doorway.

Grinning, Jake glances up to find Amy leaning against the doorway to the hall, her house robe tied haphazardly around her waist. It’s clear she’s only been awake from her afternoon nap for a matter of minutes; slowly, rubbing sleep out of one eye, she shuffles toward them. “It’s in the updated edition,” Jake murmurs, returning his attention to Mac. “I’ll have to let you borrow my copy.”

Amy hums as she draws up beside him, offering him a warm-but-distracted smile when he glances up at her. She slides one hand down his back and back up again, nails scratching gently over his shirt, before finding purchase on his shoulder. “Why do you sit here?” she asks after a moment of comfortable quiet. “There’s a couch, like, five feet away.”

“I know,” he shrugs, “I just like the window seat better.”

She hums again, reaching down to adjust Mac’s swaddle, and Mac’s grunt trails into a growl as she pulls her hand back. “Well, someone’s grumpy.”

“Melody Hawkins can do that to a person.”

Amy hums, scratching his back distractedly. “Remember when you thought you might be bad at this?” she asks softly.

He snorts. “Considering I had that thought about two minutes ago - yeah, I remember.”

“How could you tell that story and still have that thought?” He turns his head to find her looking at him earnestly, not a single trace of humor in her eyes. “How could you talk about being good and right - about being scared to be in time-out because you didn’t deserve it - Jake -”

“Hey, being a good cop doesn’t automatically make me good at this -”

“You’re right. It doesn’t. But that’s not the point, Jake - listen to me. That was not a story about a good cop. That was a story about a good person. That was a story about doing the right thing and being a good person, even when faced with a person and a system that is designed to be the opposite of that. That was a story about a guy who did what was right and who continues to do what’s right, and that has absolutely nothing to do with any stupid badge. In case you forgot, Melody Hawkins was wearing the same badge.” She pauses, letting the words sink in, rubbing his back all the while. “I asked you if you remember when you thought you would be bad at this because seeing you like this - seeing you with him, seeing you love him - it just seems so silly to me that you ever doubted yourself. And if you don’t believe me, just ask him.”

Mac’s gazing up at him now - Jake hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped squirming - and when Jake meets his eyes, the ghost of a smile curves the features of Mac’s face. Amy’s hand gently combs through Jake’s curls as she presses a kiss to his temple, and Jake swallows hard against the sudden lump in his throat. “You’re a good father, Jake. You’re a good father and a good husband, too. Your job title’s got nothing to do with it.”

She straightens up and pulls away; Jake watches her make her way toward the kitchen, unable to tamp down the grin blossoming across his face. “I don’t normally tell him cop stories,” he says off-handedly as she sets about making tea. “I usually read to him. Or I make up stories about the hole in that window across the street.”

Amy pauses, stooping down so that he can see her bewildered expression beneath the cabinets. “The one in the stained glass window?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, my nephew broke that a few years ago. He found that super bouncy ball you lost in my car and was bouncing it out on the street, but he hit one of the reflectors on the actually street and it shot off at an angle -”

“Are you telling me that I indirectly broke that window? Me? I did that? I’ve been making up stories to tell him since, like, a month after the positive test!”

#my b99 fics #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #amy santiago #jake x amy #baby fic #look i'm not really looking to get into discourse #this is just. an idea.#really really really not looking for discourse - show-related or otherwise #based on a conversation my cousin had with his wife after their first baby was born #anyways

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

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ok ok i have a random headcanon prompt!! what about amy really really wanting for breastfeeding to work because everyone says it's the best including her family giving her all the pressure but it turns out it just doesn't work for them.. how would she handle it

(oh noo 😭 that thought makes me so sad... They fought so hard for bébé I want Amy to have the newborn experience she dreamed of having! But it's pretty realistic...)

Going home from a doctor's visit has never really had a positive connection for Jake, to be honest, and their many saddening appointments during their trying phase did not help with that. (Of course he went along to all of them, even if they sometimes only needed Amy there. They were in this together, after all.)

This latest one really is not much better. It's another one where he wasn't actively needed - but he's glad he tagged along. If only to be the designated driver and babywrangler while Amy sat with the consultant. She'd had problems with breastfeeding, which the books said would be pretty normal for a first time mom, but she'd still wanted the opinion of an expert.

Well, she'd gotten that opinion now, and it really wasnt an uplifting one.

"You don't seem to have enough milkflow for the baby to really learn how to feed. We can prescribe supplements, and there are a lot of home remedies to increase flow, but it might not change anything. I'd advise getting the baby used to formula as well, to be on the safe side."

Amy looked so forlorn in the backseat, playing with Mac's perfect little foot to keep him entertained during the drive home. She hadn't really said anything ever since they left the doctor's office, and neither had Jake. He didn't feel like he was in any position to add something of worth to that particular topic, anyway.

She only spoke up once they were back home, Mac already asleep from that exciting venture outside of the apartment he'd called his homebase for the past two weeks.

"I can't believe my body is failing at this whole motherhood thing again." She laments. "It's really just not meant to be, is it?"

"Hey, don't say that." Jake pulls her into a hug that she only half returns. "Your body did an amazing job growing Mac so perfectly and bringing him into the world."

"I just... Maybe it's old fashioned or archaic, but I really wanted to breastfeed. It's important."

Jake isn't sure if that's really 100% true, but he's not going to question a woman about what her body is supposed to be doing, least of all his wife. So he does what he does best instead - looks for the silver lining.

"Hey, the doc said there's stuff that can help. We got those hormon supplements. I'm gonna buy every damn thing that has fenugreek in it tomorrow, and those teas and stuff too. We'll make it work."

"But what if it doesn't? Mac's already not latching right, and he needs to feed so much more than he does, and it's going to make him sick and-"

"He's devouring the special newborn formula they gave us at the hospital like it's orange soda or something. He's not going to starve, babe. We'll get him used to normal formula when it's time, too."

"Okay." Amy sighs again, leaning out of the hug and staring towards the nursery door, where Mac is snoring away and will probably wake up hungry soon enough, screaming for... Well, either the boob or his bottle, whichever works. Jake still has a hard time really understanding what's so bad about formula milk - if it exists as an option, it can't be that bad?

"My mum always said 'breast is best'..." Amy almost answers his unspoken question while she slumps onto the couch.

"I know you like those kind of mnemonics, but just because it rhymes doesn't make it true." He gets an appreciative glance at the fact that he remembered the word mnemonic, but its still not enough to make Amy smile again. "In the end, I think whatever keeps our little boy healthy and happy is what's best. Not what your mom or anyone else says."

Amy nods, still staring sadly into nothing. Jake sits down next to her, grips her knee and gives it a soft squeeze and a supportive smile as she leans back into him, her head on his shoulder like she so often does to steady herself.

"You're right, I know you are. I can just already hear the whole clan telling me off for 'not doing it right'. Like they did with all the pregnancy stuff already."

He hums, his hand sliding from her knee to her thigh and rubbing there gently.

"Remember what I did when they started that, though?"

At that, Amy stifles a little giggle.

"I remember some very long rants from you and debates in group chats. And once during family dinner. Didn't you tell my brother that unless he gets pregnant himself, he really shouldn't have an opinion on what my uterus does or how I handle it?" She vividly remembers the little gasp her usually so stoic dad did at Jake's very medically-informed word usage. He definitely got some good kisses as a reward for that.

"Yeah." Jake nods. "So if they start again, I'm just gonna double down on that."

She kisses his cheek, finally smiling just a little bit.

"My knight in shining armour." She quips, but there's hint of true appreciation in the joke.

"Anything for you, babe." He grins back. "And for Mac, too, of course."

The aforementioned seems to have heard his name, because there's a very obvious whine from the half open nursery door, which they know is going to evolve into a cry any second. Jake pats Amy's thigh to tell her to stay while he's already getting up.

"We're gonna work it out one way or the other, babe. And if nothing works - look at the bright side: that just means I can take over all night duties if need be. I know how to warm a bottle now, after all."

Amy smiles properly as she watches him walk away and then re-emerge with a only snuffling, not crying infant against his chest. She really couldn't have asked for a better father to her children, she thinks as he still hands Mac over with "Wanna give it a try anyway? “ and she nods.

They're gonna try. It worked itself out the last time, too. Whatever it takes.

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #mac peralta #My writing #Ficlet

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Sober (Symnali) - Pazinae

Summary: College girl Symone and her house love throwing parties. Denali loves a fun time, and finds herself there every weekend. Just to get drunk and party of course. No other reason. (AKA pretty lesbians in denial)

AN: a drabble inspired by denali coming over to the house of avalon a while ago, getting v drunk and dancing w symone (the outfit symone wears in the fic is from that day www.instagram.com/p/CODlQtnp-KM/ denali is wearing the pink dress from one of her older posts). also the time they streamed and were just drunkenly complimenting each other is the absolute Cutest and symnali is underrated. i have a lot of ideas for this so if yall are interested ill write a whole thing of what happened that night <3. my first fic and concrit is very much welcome!! song is sober by lorde :>

—

//Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight−//

They called themselves House Of Avalon. They had all pitched in to rent a house near campus over the summer, and a place leased for a year consisting of young 20 year olds can only go as well as you can imagine. Yet getting ready for their parties surrounded by constant noise and the dozens of paintings, framed photos, and tchotchkes lining the wall, was a comfortable kind of chaos. As chaotic as they may be, they undeniably threw the best parties. Not to mention their outfits never missed, especially not Symone.

The madness of creative, raging queers all shoehorned together to form the most disorderly harmony was a type of home Symone wanted to bask in forever, and, quite honestly, the driving reason to stay in the boring hell hole that is college. The obligation of finishing this shit for a flimsy paper and bragging rights was a little more grounded when it’s the only reason her friends are currently living with her. One day this will all be done, and they can find a job with their degrees. Finish college like everyone wants her too, make everyone proud that yes, she did it, and together the House Of Avalon can buy a huge house with 5 guest bedrooms so everyone and their mama can visit. Throw the biggest parties, a pool in their backyard with an outdoor kitchen, a huge patio out front by the house gates, and they could even install a stripper pole in the living room. Until then she’ll be up at 7:30am to ride the train for her morning class.

The thought of the a certain dimpled blonde helped make the week bearable because at least on the weekends she can fly to somewhere else. With someone else.

Symone, Gigi and Rosy hung around the sofa together, getting tipsy as they waited for more people to pour in. They chattered mindlessly, the comfort between the three was an indescribable kind, so effortless and familiar. But in between each pause in conversation, when the laughs and talk of annoying professors and ugly hair trends came to a brief end, Symone couldn’t help but scan the room. Peeking out the corner of her eye for a certain pair of hooded eyes hopefully lingering around. A girl with the most distinct, beautifully symmetric face that can charm a room, and a sugary voice so addictive to listen to even without a sweet tooth. She could listen to Denali talk and ramble as much as she wanted about anything in the world, and she’d eagerly nod along. Her hazy tone when she’s slurring and half awake, to the chirps and goofy grins at the height of the night. The adorable glint in her eyes of passion and excitement when she drunkenly goes off about some kpop group Symones never heard of before, but might just happen to start coming across more. Her dancing like a duck that makes Symone squeal, and cheer, and hide her face in her shoulder so no one can see the smile she’s unable to bite back. She dawdles around with her infectious giddiness and smile so comforting it eases the absurdity and rushing high Symone constantly lives with. And it helps that she’s built like some athlete godsend with the prettiest arms and perfect curves and the most stunning thighs and calves and soft warm blonde hair with icy blue tips to frame her angelic face. She’s been drinking and it’s definitely just the alcohol that makes her head waiver and ramble.

Time rushes by wedged between her sisters, and soon Symone holds an empty cup for the second already. The house has certainly been getting fuller and fuller. Glancing around, she finds the only person she could (and frankly would) look at for all of eternity, staring at her. Denali’s hair is scooped into two high ponytails at either side, and her body’s fit into a little off the shoulder pink mini dress that hugged her body all too well. Symone wanted nothing more than to just hold her, dance the night away until the jumble of noises and bodies fade out. Seeing her just standing there, perfect and still, a toothy grin is plastered on Symone’s face without her consent. She barely even knows Denali but her sheer presence brightens the room, sends butterflies to flutter around like she’s having some cheesy school girl crush. She can’t tell you what Denali’s favorite TV show, movie or season is, or how she likes her coffee. But if the world were to close in on them right now, have the walls disintegrate, ceilings crumble and the heaps of flesh around them melt into the floorboards under them- they’d still be yelling out the wrong lyrics while they twirl against the counter tops. Rush outside and run in the pitch black where nothing exists but each other in their hands- and that’s good enough for her.

Denali just likes Symone because she wants to have fun, and Symone’s good at that. It’s okay that she won’t ever like Symone when she’s sober; When she’s quiet, and wrapped in a blanket over her hoodie starring at the ceiling. When she’s fidgeting with her nails and playing with her the tips of her hair instead of talking. When she burns mac and cheese and decides to have a bag of ketchup chips for lunch. Whatever it is they have; it’s still good enough for her.

Damn maybe Symone does think a little too much. She winks at the dumbstruck skater. The night’s just begun, and the only exit signs in the labyrinth in her sinkhole of a mind is alcohol and/or Denali. Symone wants the and version.

//Oh, God, I’m clean out of air in my lungs

It’s all gone, played it so nonchalant//

When Denali came through the door she not-so-subtly headed straight to the living room. She had barely glanced in their direction- but she saw her. She was laughing, in her little squad of pretty girls. The clique of long legged doe-eyed queens stand in the center of the living room in their mini skirts and low waisted pants- lifelike statues seemingly taking up all the air in the crowded room. She can’t help it if she stares a bit! They have cute outfits and Denali just wants some inspiration. Everyone’s gawked at the trio anyways. She looks at Symone, because of the cute fuzzy blue bucket hat adorned on her head. No other reason.

But it’s hard to look away when her face- her makeup is so stunning. With a shimmery pink cut crease, and glossy lips, and dabbles of pink brightening her cheeks. Lashes that make her eyes pop, and the highlight on her glistening skin matched with her flimsy silver spaghetti strap crop top that made her shine even more like a radiant disco ball. The backless top is tied together behind, with a thin string leaving the space between her neck to ass as exposed skin. How could a person be so perfect? And addicting to look at? Unzipped jeans hung at the curve of her hip to show her pink thong, which rose to hug her waist. Pink wedge heels lie under her painted toe nails, and fuck was she a living bratz doll. It wasn’t Denali’s fault that she was objectively so head to toe stunning. It wasn’t her fault that she bit the inside of her lip a litte. It wasn’t her fault that her heart skipped when she was bent over in laughter and cupping her manicured hands over her mouth. It wasn’t her fault that she forgot to look away. It wasn’t her fault that when Symone caught her gaze she stood there frozen (if the options are fight, flight or freeze, which do you think the ice girl is gonna do?). It wasn’t her fault that she forgot how to breathe when the enchantress gave her a wink. She smiles and waves in return. Someone taps Symone’s shoulder for her attention, and she looks busy.

Denali pushes away, swimming through the sea of humans swarming the halls until she can identify the way to the kitchen. She needs a drink. It’s early and she’s far too sober for this.

//It’s time we danced with the truth

Move along with the truth//

There’s no reason why she’d be into Denali. She could literally get anyone she wanted, with her gleaming smile and cute laugh, and the way she can make you smile and feel important and wanted. The way she stops sipping in her red solo cup to look at you, to nod at every word and stare like you’re beautiful and matter. The way it’s impossible for her to not be the prettiest in the room. Denali takes a shot, the burning taste a welcome pain at the back of her tongue.

Five months ago when Denali took a sharp breath outside the main door, she made Rose come with her because, fuck, she wasn’t going to a party by herself. Not back then, at least. When she was a flustered freshman in October who didn’t know how to have a good time. Back when she first met the party throwers, and a certain captivating spirit with braided honey gold hair in a skimpy black dress took shots with her. Complimented her wispy hair dyed blue at the ends. Told her she looked amazing in slurred giggles. Because she was tipsy. The truth is the only time this will mean anything is when the world starts spinning, the room gets hot, and their minds start to blur.

//Ooh (Hey)

We’re sleepin’ through all the days

I’m actin’ like I don’t see

Every ribbon you used to tie yourself to me//

“You good diva?“

"Nnnm, gimme uh ‘nother few minutes" Symone’s head is pounding, and the only thing on her mind is the dazy blanketing warmth of sleep. Her mind is a knotted, jumbled up mess and trying to think about anything other than passing out makes her head throb. Natural light from the outside pours through the windows, and through her squinted eyes, the wooden table across the room is glowing from the suns heat. A vague need to eat, drink water, and vomit creep up on her. She turns to lay on her side, wedges the blanket between her arms, pulls it higher up and tucks her hands under her head.

"You sure?”

“You still have your makeup you want to wash it off?”

“We can take it off”

“Girl its 2pm"

"Let her sleep!"

Half asleep, all the different voices mesh as one blob of noise. Indistinct chatter fades as Symone slowly luls back to sleep. Until-

"Where should I put the polaroids of Symone and Denali making out?” Peaceful slumber is very quickly forgotten when realization is drawn.

“What the fuck happened last night?” Is the only thing Symone can muster out before throwing her head deeper into the pillow, all of a sudden quite awake. Focusing on the vague mist of memories from the night before, she replays it through her head starting from when she went up to Denali, taking shots in the kitchen.

#rpdr fanfiction #denali foxx #symone #denali x symone #rare pair #fluff #angst #lesbian au #s13 #college au #submission #fic challenge #song fic #sober #pazinae

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