#{ unspecified crossover }

[stars-obsession-pit]

Fridged (but only half successfully)

Danny awoke in a cramped, pitch-dark box with the taste of blood in his mouth. It took his brain a few moments to boot up, but then he jerked forward in a panic.

And promptly collapsed unceremoniously to the ground as a side of the box swung open.

A fridge. He had woken up in a fridge.

What hell happened to him last night?

Pushing himself around to sit upright, he grimaced at the sensation of wet fabric clinging to his skin. Glancing downwards at his clothes, he froze. The crimson stains covering the entire front of his body were impossible to misidentify. He was soaked in blood.

Fuck, this wasn’t gonna be something he could just ignore, was it. He let his head thunk back against the fridge, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath as he cast his mind backwards.

The last thing he remembered was flopping into bed in his shitty Gotham apartment after finishing a voice call with his significant other. An apartment he was definitely no longer in. So what the hell had happened to get him here?

Suddenly, his introspection was interrupted by a figure crashing in through the window. One of the bats, who then completely froze up upon taking in Danny’s slumped form.

A horrified whisper left their lips. “Danny…?”

[mymreaderlibrary]

Maybe it's just cause I'm replaying Dying Light but with Cod zombies being a thing I'm thinking about the TF141 in an apocalypse type scenario. Just a blurb idk if I’ll do anything with this.

Gonna lean heavily into the story of Dying Light here because I love it. Note that mc/ reader takes a combined role of Bracken, Jade, and Kyle C. That being said there is no Bracken, Jade, or Kyle in this universe and Rahim is reader’s younger brother.

[TF141 x male reader, no relationship (yet), zombies, death and gore, ramblings/ lore skimming]

[Length: 1,480 words]

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The 141 are given a private mission to infiltrate the city of Harran and hunt down a terrorist residing in the area. He's stolen highly sensitive documents and is threatening to have them released through an informant if something happens to him. A standard deal where the task force is concerned however Harran itself is the dangerous part of the mission.

A disease has ravaged the city, being the first documented case of what is now known as the Harran Virus. It is a strain of rabies that zombifies any of those infected, making them instinctively hunt down other warm blooded creatures to spread. The city has been completely quarantined and the virus has not gotten outside of it yet, but this also makes the area a cesspool, concentrated with death and disease. Reports say there are no living (or at least non infected) residents remaining aside from the terrorist group which have holed themselves in an unknown location. Because of this a strike has been permitted to raze Harran in hopes of destroying the virus or at the least any violent infected. A counteractive medicine is in development with its prototype being given to the task force in case of emergency, however there is no solid solution beyond massacring infected. It's not pretty work but the world can't risk this disease breaking out.

The 141 are given specialized equipment, thick gear, loads of medical equipment, and a collection of high end firearms. The team are air dropped into the lower city and instructed to start their search immediately.

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The sun is already beginning to set by the time they land. It would almost be pretty if it weren’t for all the viscera in the streets creating a sour rotten stench. Both Gaz and Soap wretch but do their best to push through, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of life. It doesn’t take long for them to find hostiles except to their surprise it’s not infected. Instead a group of well armed thugs attempt to corner them. They’re all carrying machetes and nail bats, some with masks while others have paint creating three jagged stripes across their face. Ghost notes their lack of firearms as odd but chalks it up to lacking proper equipment (even if their body armor told otherwise).

Regardless it goes about as well as you expect for the thugs against such well trained soldiers, however hell breaks loose when Soap decides to fire his pistol. A banshee like scream is heard from across the street and their attackers scatter without hesitation, even leaving behind their wounded. Quickly a horde of infected begin rushing towards the task force, mouths gaped wide and moaning. The zombies they were told of were slow and bumbling but these were ravenous. They ran, yelled wildly, clawed at the 141 with a fervor, and with each shot of the team's firearms another horde would soon follow. It was clear they were overwhelmed and the fear that the mission was over before it even began quickly hit. A pained hiss sounded from Ghost as a zombie managed to pull off his glove and bite into the calloused flesh of his hand. Another slammed Gaz onto the pavement and began chewing into his shoulder. Price and Soap just barely threw off their friend's attackers but the assault only continued.

As another infected went to claw at Price's face the zombie's head flew clean off. The corpse flopped down to the side, convulsing wildly, but unable to keep attacking. A group of young men and women, wearing uniforms unlike the thugs from before, began dragging the team out from the horde. They threw firecrackers over their shoulders and onto the street, catching the infected's focus and separating their numbers. A man in particular seemed to be leading the 141's saviors, giving quiet orders through hand signals to his comrades.

They got a solid distance before the same man began looking them over for injuries in a building. The lowered visibility from the growing dark made it difficult but not impossible. Gaz and Ghost were the only ones bitten meanwhile Soap and Price were scraped from their scuffle with the thugs. Despite the bites being small they bled heavily and the two men had already broken out into sweats. Shaking violently Gaz’s legs buckled and he began to cry out in pain. Ghost faired no better his eyes looking dazed and unfocused as he could only hiss out panicked breaths. Gaz's pain seemed to recapture the attention of the infected outside as banging began on the door of their refuge. A young woman went to barricade the entry but the vicious sound persisted. A fist broke through the wood and scratched at the woman's eye but she didn't falter, using her back to block the entry.

In the commotion Price recalled the prototype medicine he had been given by their contractor and quickly pulled out two small syringes. Their rescuers gave them an odd look before the leader snatched it out of his hands and injected both men without question. It took a moment for the medicine to take effect but the pair began to go lax, heartbeats slowing to a normal pace. However they were still too weak to stand and the door was beginning to buckle. The woman barricading it was grabbed and dragged out into the dark street by the vicious creatures. The rescue leader tried to pull her out but it was too late.

With a pained look in his eye the leader commanded the remaining men and women to take the 141 back to "The Tower" while he distracted the zombies away from them. He left no room for argument and they were whisked away quickly from the regrowing horde. The now nearly black streets greeting them as they ran, carrying their fallen comrades.

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The journey to this tower, which turned out to be an apartment complex covered in UV lights, took a lot of climbing but eventually they were welcomed through the front gates. Or well, welcomed was an overstatement, it was more like begrudgingly let through after some convincing from their rescuers. The guards at the door glared at the men and Price could hear them scoffing about their missing leader and how “Rahim is gonna be pissed”. Seems that man wasn't just a leader to those runners but to this tower as a whole. And well if that wasn't a way to instantly ruin your reputation.

They were transferred to the medical ward where Gaz and Ghost stayed, far too out of it to get out of their cots. It was honestly quiet odd seeing the two laying dazed and pale. While the medicine seemed to have some sort of effect, there was no saying for how long. It was still only a prototype.

Soap and Price on the other hand could leave after getting bandaged, only suffering superficial wounds. They were instructed to rest, guided to some rooms a floor below where they saw several civilian types. Men, women, children... a mother in the corner cradling her crying baby trying to convince him to go back to sleep. A father sitting beside his two daughters resting on a cot covered by a thin sheet. A teen boy sitting alone, curled up on a chair shaking. Life. Something they were told didn't exist down here outside of terrorists.

One day on and the mission was already a mess, two soldiers down, emergency meds already in use, a whole community of civilians discovered, a possible ally MIA, and they had not an ounce of info to show for it. Sleeping after that just didn't feel right but the two men supposed there was nothing they could do as the tower was locked until morning. If the screams and yowls of dead were anything to go off of, it sounded like the infected were more active in the night. Who knew if this tower’s leader was even alive out there amongst the savage undead.

It took what felt like a year for the sun to rise again but just as daylight cusped the window Price could hear commotion downstairs. Cheers, shouts, panicked calls for a medic. As him and Soap peered onto the floor above they spotted that same leader from before now being dragged in to the medical ward from the stairs. Blood trailed behind him, his arms littered with cuts, bruises, and bites, but he was conscious and attempting to walk. A thick stream of red pooled from his temple down his chin and for a split second his gaze caught Price. His eyes were near unreadable, murky like Ghost's but still alert enough to be aware of what was going on. He seemed almost satisfied seeing the captain alive and well but quickly was taken away to be bandaged.

This mission was already hell.

[bravewolfvesperia]

@valiantxunion | continued

At first the youngest of them hadn't even completely registered what he was seeing when he'd met his teen self. It was the bewildered reaction from his counterpart and a really brief, accidental spilling of a few words that put the pieces together. Confused as he was, Yuri had been about to head off on his own to look for a way back when, well, Yuri had stopped him and suggested staying together for now.

Part of it was that yeah, the two of them were completely lost and unsure why people - at the very least the older adults - were staring absolute holes into them. The other part of it was just Yuri's instincts kicking in and taking hold of the child's wrist before he marched right off and got into some kind of trouble. As much as he insisted he was fine on his own, his older self had doubts about that, and the odd setup they were in didn't help.

Despite going around with a child he could easily just refer to as his brother in the meantime, people seemed oddly concerned and befuddled at seeing them together. Eventually the elder of the two decided it was time to start asking questions, confronting a few of the adults who seemed younger and less confused, albeit seeming to try to figure out why something felt off looking at the two of them.

After a few attempts, someone finally told them to hold on for a bit while they went to get someone. Turned out it was Hanks they went to get, which was a mixture of relieving and just as confusing as everything else. Why did they need to get Hanks of all people? In this moment at least, the older Yuri was entirely positive neither of them had kicked up a fuss over anything or gotten into anything chaotic.

Just like the others though, Hanks was taken aback when he saw them and for a good few long seconds, totally lost for words. He had even reached for a hand on each of them to confirm they were physically present, leaving the two of them feeling even more lost when it took the man a bit longer than expected to let go. After near stifling confusion, Hanks explained he knew someone who looked just like them and that that person lived here.

Lived here? Both Yuris looked at each other. But... they lived here. They had never seen each other, let alone this third guy. Of the two, the teen already knew what he was dealing with with his younger self, but the kid had no idea what to expect looking at himself at around double his age. The only reason he was even able to figure that out was because his teen self had blurted it out in an attempt to make sense of the situation to himself.

With all the weird looks they'd been getting though, when Hanks suggested bringing them somewhere else so they could work this out, they had both agreed. It was just too eerie for them being watched like that. The Lower Quarter never looked at people like that, much less their own people. To say the least, it was... uncomfortable.

On their way to the inn, the younger self began wiggling his hand from the hold of the teen's, almost squirmy. "I don't need you holding my hand, you know." It wasn't a question; just a plain statement. He was right though, and it wasn't like the older of the two expected him to just run off. He was hard to control for sure, if only because the teen knew that firsthand, but he wouldn't just scram the second he found an opening for no particular reason.

"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha." He didn't tell his smaller self, but it was just that same instinct kicking back in. Even if this was a little him, he was still a child and Yuri's first reaction to dealing with a confused lost child was to take care of them until help was found. And, it may have been Yuri himself, and he may have hidden it entirely too well for a seven year old, but he was definitely freaked out at the position he'd found himself in.

When Hanks went to get the apparent lookalike, neither of them had spoken to each other. They were too busy trying to come to terms with understanding their surroundings. It wasn't until the third of them arrived that their bafflement returned immediately. In the teen's case, it was pretty obvious what Hanks was referring to, and it really didn't help that this man dressed too similarly to him. In the youngest's case, he could see the resemblance between the two elders and he already knew who the teen was to him.

The now newly eldest of them seemed intent on keeping them all together, with the youngest being reluctant to have to follow them around like, literally, a lost child. The now middle child couldn't help the absolute pout that exposed itself with the way his elder self expressed preferring to do other things with his time instead of hanging out with him.

The youngest sighed, still somewhat unaware of the problem. Sure, they were... each other, but if they could get that around and tell people not to worry about it while they worked on figuring something out, surely it wouldn't be a problem? "I still don't really get it... but I guess it makes sense we can't leave you unattended if you couldn't be trusted to just come here on your own and old man Hanks had to lead you here. You must get into trouble a whole lot if you couldn't even be trusted with something that simple."

Ouch. The teen among them winced. "Like you're any better..."

"And actually!" Well, the kid found his voice again. "Why would I be Tiny Yuri, anyway? Why can't you be Biggest Yuri or something? Why do you get to keep our name? What, because you're the oldest?"

At that point the teen's mind had already drifted as he shut the complaining out. "I'm... going to be in so much trouble when I don't show up back home tonight..." At first he'd be in trouble, and then everyone would start to panic if he was missing for too long. Was he missing? Was he technically there still? Maybe they could find something out later in the Public Quarter...

[pyromeownia]

tag dump

[hellishjoel]

wild like the west

3.3k / pairing: cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader

main masterlist | notifications blog

summary: joel and his cowgirl warnings/information:  MA 18+ (minors DNI), implied but unspecified age gap, joel is technically reader's boss (so power dynamic stuff), swearing, dirty talk, pet names (baby girl, brat, etc.), unprotected p in v, pussy pronouns, asphyxiation kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, clean up on aisle reader's stomach, reader is described having hair but otherwise (I believe) reader is a blank slate, no use of y/n, barely edited A/N: I unfortunately have not stopped thinking about a game joel miller x yellowstone crossover, and I feel like he would like this to be his long, happy life. I also haven't written for joel since may which feels like a sin! sorry baby!

It doesn’t matter how many ass bruises you get, or the pain of repeated thrashes to your knees from getting bucked off; this unruly horse will bend its spirit to your will. 

Half the job of purchasing new horses for the Miller Ridge Ranch is breaking them in like a pair of new shoes. 

Any cowboy, or for you, cowgirl, knows that a horse can sense your personality and fear from a mile away. If you sprout fear, it won’t trust you to be the guide on its back. It’s a mutual thing to trust one another. It’s the trust Joel thrust upon you after loyally working at the ranch for a handful of years. Sure, you were young, but you had a good head on your shoulders.

He perches his cowboy boot on the low fence rail, teeth gnawing at a toothpick as he watches you with careful eyes. The morning dew settles over the long grass and tall trees, untouched by man, fostered by nature. With the sun clawing at the horizon, the land turns from a pale blue to a beaming orange glow.  It’s beautiful here, peaceful. You imagine this is the life that Joel always wanted, craved. He’s not from around here, he’s got too much Southern twang to be from these northern Montana woods. 

Life guided him up here and he never turned back. 

You can feel the horse grow agitated under your haunches, whinnying with anxiety as it takes a few rough steps backward in the ground-up dirt. 

“S’okay, boy, take it easy, easy,” you coo in a gentle voice that lets the horse breathe through its panic. You grip the colt’s mane at the very base of his neck, right by the horn of your saddle, gently scratching that sweet spot that seems to bring him some tranquility.

You’re the only one who seems to calm these beautiful boys. 

“You got a habit of gettin’ in’ta trouble before it even knows to start lookin’ for ya.” Joel’s southern drawl rumbles deep from his chest, stepping into the training ring and crooking his first two fingers in your direction. 

“I got it, Joel,” you say insistently, guiding the horse by a little squeeze of your boots to its belly in Joel’s direction. 

“Know ya do.” Joel stops at the horse’s chest and pats its neck, large and calloused hand stroking down its coarse mane as he stares up at you, squinting from the morning sunlight. 

His eyes are starkly brilliant in this light, typically a dark brown, now a glowy amber under the brim of his black cowboy hat. “You know that part of learnin’ how to be a cowboy is lettin’ them break in their own horse. Hop down.”

A sigh leaves your parted lips as you unhook one boot from the stirrups and throw yourself off. Taking the reigns, you walk with Joel back to the main fence. 

“You’re too nice to ‘em. I hired you to be a bit more…” He pauses indefinitely, tilting his head.

“Ruthless. I know.” Your eyes connect, both hardened after years of this long life. One day of being a cowboy felt like a year at any other job. 

The plan was plain and simple, a route you’d taken a hundred times with a crew that changed on and off for the past couple of years. The cattle were in need of fresh resources, lush grass to graze on, and streams of pristine crystal water. Up through the valley they’d go. 

The cowboys and cowgirls were gathered on their horses, Joel sat atop his beautiful black mare, eyes piercing his crew even behind his tinted sunglasses. Any season besides summer in this state demanded thick, warm work wear. Joel adorned a chocolate brown Carhartt and thick denim jeans under old, worn-out brown chaps. 

“I want Wyatt and Jack to take front, Bo and Sadie, swing, Jess and June on the flank, Tucker and Sammy on the drag. Wear your bandanas, it’s gonna get dusty back there,” your eyes flick up to a string of confused faces, “any questions?” 

“Why do we have to go through the valley? We’d have to push hundreds of cows through open water,” Bo mutters, disdain for a woman making all these choices for him, perhaps. 

“Yeah, n’I can’t swim. Never learned.” Another pipes in. 

“Then you’re a goddamn idiot,” old man Wyatt gurgles up a chuckle. Wyatt has been a cowboy longer than you have been alive. He raised you up to be tough with a streak of kindness that could never be washed away. He gives you a tight nod of reassurance as you sigh weakly. 

All this tomfoolery seems to be a bit much for Joel’s taste. “She’s takin’ questions about the plan, not your ‘pinions on it. I tell her what to do, she tells ya’ll what to do. You question her, you question me. So do as she says, or you answer to me.”

Joel’s always had a tight hand on the crew. He intimidates them. He is their boss, after all. They have a problem with you or this ranch or anyone else, they answer to him. Joel takes off his sunglasses and narrows his eyes on Bo, the newest cowboy with a pretty big mouth on him who bucks just as bad as your new colts. And his dead eyes are set on you. 

The rest of the crew sets off towards the direction of the cattle herd, everyone except Bo. 

Your head jerks upward in his direction, your own eyes narrowed. “You wanna say somethin’?” You ride alongside Bo, who seems to be wrestling with his stupid thoughts. But before he gets a chance to say anything, Joel intervenes. 

“Got a fight in you? It starts an’ ends with me.”

Bo looks between both of you, simply scoffing before he backs his horse off and trots along towards the crew. 

The view from the top of the valley is beautiful, all yellow and golden, with a pale blue sky and tall trees that harbor the secrets of the forest. Joel used to tell you it would whisper to him, warn him. Your chestnut-colored horse stands tall next to Joel’s, and both of you are overseeing the herd and the crew working together. 

“Not as bad as I thought this was gonna be,” Joel mutters, turning his head in your direction. You’re unrecognizably quiet. He’s never known you to be so still. 

He watches as your fingers anxiously twirl your horse’s mane. “You undermine me in front of them, and they don’t respect me, Joel.” 

So that’s what got you so stiff. He takes in a deep breath of mountain air, crossing his wrists over the horn of his saddle and glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. Your hair blows in the wind, gentle and flowing. Almost graceful if it wasn’t in this wild west. Your beauty was city beauty, he was surprised you ever found your way out here. 

“Bo’s as green as grass. He needs to learn not t’talk to you like that. And if he needs to learn from me, so be it.”

Keeping your lips zipped, your eyes scan the points that use the dogs to guide the herd in the right direction. The swings and flanks work the mid to back-mid to maintain movement, and the drags stationed at the back ensure that any loose stragglers keep up. 

Joel rolls his eyes and sighs, reaching his hand across to your horse’s reigns, keeping your horse tucked to his side. 

“C’mon, Cowgirl. Spit it out.” 

“You go about defendin’ me, it looks like we’re sleepin’ together,” you gripe, “and I don’t need our crew slingin’ the slander that I got my job fuckin’ the boss. I don’t want that shit, Joel.”

Joel shifts his jaw from side to side, silent as he usually is. His tongue muscles over the right words, the words that will settle that ball of uncertainty you have nestled in your gut. 

He settles on the truth. 

“We are sleepin’ together.” 

Shaking your head, you steal your reigns back from Joel and gently nuzzle your boots against the horse’s underbelly. “Well, maybe that should end.” 

Joel watches on with a small smirk as your horse is set in motion down the grassy hill. He shouts loud enough for his voice to carry down from the high ground. “You set those boys straight, or I’ll have to keep doin’ it for ya.”

You sling back your middle finger in his direction, both of your horses riding side by side now as you follow the crew through to the valley. 

Joel sighs upon entering his large, private cabin, resting his cowboy hat to air out on a hook by the front door. His clothes wreak of his musky sweat, and the shower calls his name. He walks stiffly. Joel’s thick thigh muscles are as strong as iron from riding his horse, and his back cracks each time he inhales.

But he can’t deny that this life was made for him. 

Training to be a carpenter, earning pennies on the dollar to work in the hot Texas sun, and for what? Building someone else’s dream property? He had his own dreams. 

The ranch was his dream.

He always had a profound appreciation for nature and the outdoors. 

Fuck the city, fuck car horns honking obnoxiously, fuck the traffic. He found more fulfillment in listening to the wind flutter through the trees and would much rather hear the moos of his cattle than impatient commuters at six in the morning. 

Plus, he’s never felt more free or independent. This was his land, and he made the decisions on how it was run. Hiring the sassy cowgirl from the metropolis just happened to be a nice bonus on lonely nights when there wasn’t much left to his whiskey bottle, and the ride into town was more than twenty minutes for a new one. She sated him all the same, better, even.  

Despite years of riding and wrangling, you’re so fucking soft. You have soft eyes, a pretty voice, and satiny thighs. Your lips are plush against his weathered ones, and you don’t seem to mind sitting in his lap with his rougher-than-barbwire hands feeling over your body. 

But in turn, you’ve made a little soft spot in his wild like the west heart of his. And he swore he’d never settle down; you seem to have the same intentions. 

Things were easy. Nice and easy. Almost routine. 

The bunkhouse would be busy with cowboys and cowgirls playing card games, drinking their beers, singing to the music on the radio, and talking nonsense. You’d slip out after dark and wind up upstairs in his bed. 

He recalls you saying something about how his bed is more comfy than the ones in the bunkhouse. 

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” 

Tonight was no different. Fresh from his shower with a towel secured low on his waist, he hums curiously at the sight of you sprawled out across his bed. No more than a minute later, you are tugging it loose from his frame and letting it pool around his ankles. 

“Thought you said you were done,” Joel muses with a hint of teasing. You sit up from the bed on your knees and wrap your arms around his broad trap and shoulder muscles. 

“I ain’t a quitter,” you mutter against Joel’s mouth, feeling his tongue glide along yours as he explores you freely. 

He sheds your clothes, feeling your freshly showered skin and hair under his rough palms. He can’t help but touch you like you’re his, like he owns you. But no man can possess the wind. 

You kiss as he slips you under the bed’s cool sheets, drunk on the way you move so pliantly under his guidance. His lips move to the slope of your neck, his greying whiskers scratching your skin before he washes over the irritation with more kisses. 

Joel’s hands slip between your legs, cupping your clothed center in one hand. Your eyes light up at the friction, mewling up a moan of his name as he massages over the wet spot growing on your panties. 

“She’s already soaked, darlin’. You been thinkin’ ‘bout this?” Joel muses, sitting up properly to peel your shirt off your body, two fingers curling around the hem of your panties and chucking them mindlessly on the floor. 

“Joel,” you whisper breathlessly as he’s about to slip down between those pretty legs of yours. 

“What?” He asks, damn near annoyed. 

“I can’t wait,” you beg breathlessly, his eyes meeting yours. “I-I can’t, I’m beggin’ you, please. It’s been a long day.” 

Joel sighs but ultimately nods. It’s not what he wants, but sometimes you both need a quick fix. 

Joel’s body parts your legs, a grunt escaping the depth of his throat as he ruts his hips against your own. 

“Good idea,” he mutters against your mouth, leaning down and distracting himself with your kisses as he lines his length up and down your soaking center. 

You sharply inhale as he enters and the sound is music to his ears. He feels your nails carving into his back muscles as he sinks himself in deeper deeper deeper, both of you panting with eagerness by the time his hips are flush with your own, lost in where you end and he begins.

You let out a string of moans as he reels himself back, only to return to your depths with a snap of his hips that releases a shrill whine of his name from your throat. His forearms are buried in the fluff of the pillows on either side of your head, forehead against forehead, his hips grinding against you now. 

The friction is enough to make your head spin. You can feel the coarse hair of his happy trail tickling your already anxious pearl. 

“Fuck,” you huff out, letting your hands slip down his back, knowing that if you want him to pick up the pace, you’ll have to ignite his fire. In one quick movement, your hands drag themselves up Joel’s back, your nails creating etched lines that raise red once you finish at the very tops of his shoulders. 

Joel releases a long, low groan in response as his eyes snap open to meet yours. The sting of pain creates heat along Joel’s spine. His jaw is wound tight as he brings his large hand to wrap around your pretty throat, thumb on your chin to force you into staring straight at him. 

“Such a goddamn brat,” he growls, adding pressure to the column of your throat as he begins to pound into you harder and harder with each thrust of his hips. You cry out his name, a cacophony of your panting moans and your slick squelching against his hips fill your ears. The ecstasy of losing just a smidge of air is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

He’s obsessed with the way your eyes gloss over in lust, your body jerking up the bed with each powerful thrust he gives you. Your mouth hangs open, gasping for air that’s just out of your reach. 

“You take it, baby girl, you keep takin’ it. She’s so fuckin’- goddamit, so fuckin’ good for me,” he pants, feeling the warm air dissolve against your skin as Joel begins to swell fatter inside of you. 

Perfectly slick and warm, he loses himself in your pussy. You squeeze and choke him, his orgasm only building as you whimper how good he feels. 

“Holy fuck, Joel, please please please, right there, ohmygod you’re gonna make me-” you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as you grip onto his forearm that’s still holding your delicate throat, your other hand gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. He knows to squeeze a little harder as you fall apart, the euphoria of the combination sending you over the edge. 

Joel’s holding on for dear life, always focused on putting you first, always trying to prove your jokes of him being an old man wrong. But he can’t deny he’s nearly finished twice now, your pretty cunt all nice and warm for him. 

What’s wrong with pushing you over the edge a little?

Joel abandons the hold on your throat as you still are witnessing the aftershocks of your orgasm, his two thick fingers circling over your swollen clit. 

Joel smirks as your eyes snap open, your jaw dropping wide as you silently scream in pleasure. He nods sadistically, smirking as he overstimulates your already twitchy clit.

“You’re gonna give me another, right here, right now,” Joel grunts, stilling his hips as he’s buried to the hilt inside you, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as your gasps and strangled moans fill the room. 

“Fuck, Joel I don’t think I can,” you cry out, bracing the wrist of the hand that’s still working figure-eights around your pearl. Joel watches as your chest rises and falls quickly, nipples at peaks as you continue to clench repeatedly around his cock. 

 “Know you can, baby, cum on this cock again. You’re a strong cowgirl, ain’t’cha? You been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day, getting this pretty girl drilled by me, know ya have.”

And he’s right. Shamefully so. Denying Joel looks good in and out of his cowboy attire is just nonsense. The way he rides his horse with his thighs snagged tight around its middle, gnawing on his toothpicks to ward off the need to smoke a cigarette or chew; at this point, it’s everything that he does that turns you on. 

And maybe that’s why it’s so easy to give him a second one. 

Your nails pierce into his skin as your hands grip his biceps, mewling and moaning something wrecked, feeling the warmth gather deep in your belly once more. 

“Keep fuckin’ me, I didn’t say to stop,” you pant.

Joel disguises his laughter by meeting your lips with his own, giving you messy kisses that taste better than perfect ones. His hips and fingers work in tandem to force you over the edge. You’re shaking under him, your thigh muscles twitching with excitement, legs wrapping around his middle as he grows closer to his own finish. 

Just as he feels like he’s going to give way, he can feel your pussy clenching around his aching cock, his tip brushing so perfectly against that spongy spot that sets your insides alight. 

“Fuck,” he grits, ripping himself loose of your perfectly wasted cunt as he yanks over his length. One, two, three more times, and he’s spilling warm spend across your belly. The pretty splatters are like a Jackson Pollock. He stares in awe at how pretty you look getting finished on. 

The bed dips as he falls into place beside you. He doesn’t lay idle. He reaches for some tissues from his bedside table, politely wiping away his mess as you stare at him with lustful eyes. You were so fucked out. Sorta cute. 

“Quit,” he mutters, avoiding your eyes. 

“You ain’t as old as I thought you were.” You whisper, a smirk tugging on the corners of your mouth. 

Joel chuckles softly at your familiar tease. He's heard it countless times, but it never ceases to make him roll his eyes and pull you closer to him. He kisses your forehead affectionately, his voice carrying a hint of playful banter.

“You gonna keep remindin' me about my age every chance you get? Don’t stop ya from comin’ back each night.”

You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart thump. 

Joel’s got one arm slung around your shoulders, the other on your thigh that’s draped across his middle. His strong hand works slowly into your tired muscles. You play with the greying curls on his chest, taking note of the dark, nearly black ones still speckled throughout. 

“Goodnight, old cowboy.” You say, patting his chest, hearing his slow laughter rumble from his chest. 

“G’night, pain in my ass.” 

main masterlist | notifications blog

[jedijune]

Jedi June 2024

A creative fandom event dedicated to appreciating the Jedi, taking place during the entire month of June! Each week will feature two prompts, around which people can create fanwork (of any kind – fic, art, cosplay, edits, anything you can think of) or meta focusing on the Jedi and the Jedi Order. All eras and continuities are welcome; OCs, established characters, doesn’t matter – it just needs to be about appreciating the Jedi!

Rules:

If you are participating, please tag your work/meta with #jedi june and/or @ this blog so that I will see it and reblog it here. All work must be your own. Feel free to crosspost it off-site.

This is an appreciation event, focusing on what we love and enjoy about the Jedi – not what we don’t. This is not the place to air your grievances with the Code, take potshots at the Council, prop certain Jedi/certain eras of Jedi up at the expense of others, or disparage the Jedi Order or their philosophy (including the concept of non-attachment) and way of life in any way. You are free to do that on your own time if that’s your thing, but it has no place within this event.

AUs and crossovers are allowed, with caveats: again, the purpose of this event is to appreciate the Jedi as Jedi, so sticking your favorite Jedi characters in something like a modern AU or making them all Sith or Mandalorian is not really within the spirit of this event. However, AUs such as making a non-Jedi character a Jedi, having a character survive their canon death, giving a character a different teacher or padawan, or killing Palpatine off-screen in an unspecified yet embarrassing and painful manner, would all be perfectly fine. Use your best judgement to determine whether an AU fits the spirit of the event or not.

Ships are allowed as long as they’re not between a child and adult, and following the above rules.

Please tag any spoilers up to two weeks after the relevant content has aired.

Following the prompts is encouraged, but not required. Any sort of pro-Jedi content is encouraged all year month long, and if tagged (and following the rules), will be reblogged.

We also have an AO3 collection!

Prompts:

Week 1 (June 2 - 8):

Prompt 1: Fun/Joy

Prompt 2: Comfort

Week 2 (June 9 - 15):

Prompt 1: Advice/Inspiration

Prompt 2: Balance

Week 3 (June 16 - 22):

Prompt 1: Art/Music

Prompt 2: Peace

Week 4 (June 23 - 29):

Prompt 1: Non-attachment/Letting go

Prompt 2: Cross-lineage mentorship

Bonus (any time):

Prompt 1: Eyes Closed/Trust in the Force

Prompt 2: Animal Friendship

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask! I hope you will have fun participating!

Static banner credit @independence1776​​

gif banner credit @trickytricky1​​

[peoplcshope]

Hmmm kids..fingers began to dangle into the strands of his own lavender locks before he turned to face her. There wasn’t much confidence on his face but it was something he’d have to suck up. “Well I’m not ‘bad’ with kids but I’d say I’m a better cook.” Trunks knew how to ration foods with the best of them and knew how to bring out flavor in the blandest of food given the little ingredients he might be given. This of course was a result of the hard life he’s had to endure back home. It taught him to be rather sufficient. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am, to think you’d help a stranger out like this. I owe you one.”

peoplcshope​:

“Hello there, I’m a little lost, do you know where I can go to find a place for work?” If anything Trunks can parade under the identity of a mercenary until he finds something stable enough to call a job. That way he would be able to search and search for materials to repair his time machine. “My name is Trunks by the way.”

liked for a starter / @moonlitsorceress

“A place to work?” Folding her arms the wolf lowered her ears as she thought about what places in the city could be hiring. “Well that depends how good are you with cooking...or with kids? Cause I can think of a few places that might be looking for someone right now. And nice to meet you Trunks, you can call me Saya.”

[gryphonlover]

Linked Universe AU Directory

Anyway, I didn't put every single AU on this thing. I do not have the time and energy for that because there's over 600 LU works tagged as alternate universes on Ao3. I did follow some general guidelines when I was deciding which works to add, the most important one being that the AU had to be more than just canon divergence and had to affect all the characters equally. Feel free to add onto this post, if you think something is missing.

Link to the Ao3 Collection

Age Swap | Age Shuffle AU

Apocalypse - Unspecified | Brothers In Arms

Apocalypse - Zombies | Autolysis

Apocalypse - Zombies | LU Zombie AU

Fae | Across the River

Fae | Flower Garden

Fae | From Open Seas, to Dark Tangled Depths

Folklore | If You Thought This Was Gonna Have a Cool Title, You Obviously Don't Know Me

Fusion - Alice's Adventures in Wonderland | Hyrule's Adventures in Wonderland

Fusion - Among Us | Good Riddance

Fusion - Atlantis: The Lost Empire | The Sage's Journal

Fusion - Big Hero 6 | Fierce Hero 9

Fusion - Captain America: Civil War | United We Stand, Divided We Fall

Fusion - Dungeons & Dragons | LU x DnD Crossover

Fusion - Full House | Full House AU

Fusion - Lethal Company | Linked Company AU

Fusion - Lethal Company | Linked Universe AU: Lethal Company

Fusion - Mad Max | And the World Ends Again

Fusion - Monstrous Regiment | Linked Regiment

Fusion - Nailed It! | You Really Nailed it Right There, Buddy!

Fusion - Pokémon | LU Pokémon AU

Fusion - Pride and Prejudice | Pride and Prejudice but it's a Fair-Play Whodunnit

Fusion - Tangled | LU Tangled AU

Fusion - The Hunger Games | LU Hunger Games AU

Fusion - The Incredibles | Linked Universe Incredibles AU

Fusion - The Secret World of Arrietty | The Secret World of Wild and Twilight

Fusion - Spirited Away | One Summer's Day

Fusion - Star Wars | Tales of Courage from Across the Galaxy

Fusion - Warrior Cats | Faronclan AU

Gods & Goddesses | And the Universe Said "I Love You"

Heist | Heist AU

Historical - 1800s | City of Light and Dark

Historical - Supernatural | 1931

Science Fiction - Space Crew | Linked Nexus

Mermaids | Flared Fins

Miscellaneous - Disability | Shatterproof

Miscellaneous - Intrigue | Castle Intrigue

Miscellaneous - Magic | We Could be Immortals

Miscellaneous - Unspecified | Eyes Wide Open

Miscellaneous - Unspecified | Manus Lupus

Modern | Adoption AU

Modern | Good Enough

Modern | In the Heart of Hyrule

Modern | LU Modern AU

Modern | Modern Zeldas AU

Modern | Ranch House AU

Modern | The Many Realities of the Hero Spirit and Modern Living

Modern | The Roadtrip AU

Modern | The Weather Outside is Frightful

Modern - Actors | Linked Universe Actor AU

Modern - Coffeeshop/Café | Looking for Group

Modern - College/University | All You Need to Know

Modern - College/University | Linked University

Modern - College/University | Oh No, They're Theater Kids Now

Modern - College/University | RIP

Modern - Emergency Services | Of Officers and Stuffed Elephants

Modern - Farm | Fresh from the Farm

Modern - Ghost Hunters | A Haunting in Hyrule

Modern - Healthcare | How to Save a Life

Modern - Healthcare | LU in Healthcare

Modern - Magic | Everything but Blood

Modern - Magic | Family is Made of...

Modern - Magic | Maybe Human 

Modern - Magic | Summer Camp Lon!

Modern - Magic | The Chain that Binds Us

Modern - Magic | Wild's Magic Shop AU

Modern - Monsters | Here There Be Monsters

Modern - Movie Theater | There's a Remlit... Loose in the Theater!

Modern - Music Camp | Linked Repertoire

Modern - Newsroom | BSX: Hyrule SatellaNews

Modern - Newsroom | Professions and Professionals

Modern - Office | Linked Corporations

Modern - Opera | Opera House AU

Modern - Retail | The Hot Topic Debate

Modern - Retail | What Goes Down at Festival Foods

Monsters | Seelies and Selkies

Murder Mystery | How to Kill a God

Post-Nuclear War | Chain Reaction

Royalty | Every Other Star

Royalty | I'll Be There

Royalty | Royal Links AU

Royalty | Lost Prince AU Part 1 & Lost Prince AU Part 2

Soulmates - Platonic | Marks on Your Body, Marks on Your Soul

Soulmates - Romantic | Castle Town Coffee Shop

Vigilantes | Empty Streets Full of Life

Vigilantes | We Will Find You, Wherever You Are

Wings | Four's a Dad!?

Wings | Wings AU

Wings | Wing Bois

[kakusu-shipping]

Wait I don't wanna be an asshole who only posts Silly Meme Crossover ships, so REAL FAST, I don't get crossover ships much but one I HAVE been considering and I'll share it to offset the silly haha meme I just posted. Deal? Cool

Checkered King X Kinger

Both Kings in an Unreal world, both Chess Themed, Both Purple-adjacent, and both are tragic bisexuals who lost their beloved wife (Checkered King to an unspecified illness, Kinger to Abstraction)

Do I think they should kiss? Eeeeeh. Do I think they should go to the same group therapy sessions and chat? Absolutely.

I dunno if you asked me a crossover ship I liked now I think I would say these two. It helps I consumed all of their medias in the same 24 span of time.

[orangez3st]

Coruscant's Bests: Under Pressure

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.14.25: Future | Event Masterpost

↤ Prev [Wolffe × Nico] | ↤ Prev [Fox × Lesiil] | Part 5 of 5

Tags & Warnings: established relationship, star wars swear words (no irl foul language), criminal investigation, graphic description of victim’s body (just bits heh, pun intended), mentions of suicide, mostly conversations, fluff, comfort Character(s): Fox, Lesiil (OC), Wolffe, Nico (OC), BD-6 (Lesiil’s droid), side OC’s (Eisen, Veeli, Titus) Pairing(s): Wolffe × Nico, Fox × Lesiil Word Count: 10.9k A/N: Surprise crossover! For [Wolffe × Nico]’s part, this can be perfectly read as a standalone. But if you're here by [Fox × Lesiil]’s part, this is gonna be a really big spoiler for [Wolffe × Nico]’s story. Go check them out starting here if you're interested! Ah and, the ‘Future’ theme is for [Fox/Lesiil] bcs this is quite a(n unspecified) time skip since the Corrie Butcher case. Mostly this'll be Fox's POV. Also I'm serving a little LesFox fluff 🥹 Additional warning (also a note as to why I don't mark this as NSFW): There's only a pinch of implied sexual acts (worded as “it”) due to the NSFW happening in Wolffe's previous installment. Other than that, the rest of this fic is completely SFW (but do mind the tags above before reading below).

“Ocean spirits give me strength,” Eisen sighs. He pauses for a moment, planting both hands on his hips. “As much as I don't like him, this is straight up grotesque. Poor guy.”

His attention remains fixated on the bloodied pavement where there's a pile of… unrecognizable chunks of someone.

He wouldn't narrate further to himself. Instead, he squeezes his eyes close, his tendrils flicking in discomfort, and turns his body slightly around to face one wall of the tent.

CSF was called in merely seconds after the incident, a flurry of panicked comm calls flooding their emergency line. And one report from police droids on patrol later, the purple Nautolan detective is assigned as lead investigator. Apparently, it turns out to be another high-profile case. Of someone high-profile too, because the body belongs to Shon Vatore, an A-list actor and filmmaker nominated for Osk’arr Awards tonight.

He’d cheer if only the scene wasn't so gnarly.

“Keeping up with the gossip column, Detective?” one of the crime scene analysts strikes up a conversation.

Eisen had ended up walking towards the tent entrance anyway, not wanting to stay a second longer and trample around the area where the body is. “Oh you know me. Always up to date with this kind of thing!” he lightly responds, half-exclaiming. “I’ll be outside if you need me. I can't look at this, sorry. Too much for me.”

He’d been keeping up with the Osk'arr Awards that streamed live while working on some flimsiwork at his desk back at the station. Once he got home, he was just about to sprawl on his worn couch for late night bites with holos and chill when the Inspector rang him. Now his appetite is completely nonexistent.

Coruscant tonight reeks with tragedy and loss. It had been a night of glamour and celebration with all those celebrities attending the awards, but now the entire street where the official after-party was held is closed off and empty. Perimeters are set to prevent the media breathing down their necks. Police officers and on-site investigators, droids and natborns alike, scatter on and about their own businesses.

Before he can march away to help asking the witnesses, his personal commlink beeps of an incoming call. Once reading the name of the caller, he brightens up with a massive toothy grin splitting his face.

“Hey there, partner! What's up?”

“Evening, Eisen. Sorry to disrupt your work,” Lesiil's pleasant voice comes through, and he swears he can hear claps and cheers from the audience somewhere beyond the fourth wall. “Would you mind if I cut to the chase?”

Her urgent tone catches him off guard. “Uh yeah, sure sure.” He moves to a spot on the street that no one walks by. “What's this about?”

“With the ceaseless expression of tearful shock coming from my classmate combined with the Inspector giving me a call, I assume your team needs my help?”

He stares blankly at the pavement before pacing around. “Back up Les, I think I lost you. Inspector called you?”

“Oh, so you weren't told yet, then,” Lesiil is heard mumbling, sounding as confused as he is, before continuing carefully, “Yes, he did. The high-profile case that's taking over the holonews right now?”

“You mean the pile of mangled flesh and bone in white and gold Arrrma’ni? Oh yeah.” As an avid entertainment follower, he of course kept up with the red carpet stills– “Wait, what the heck are you– your help, Les? But you already resigned!”

“Inspector told me that Chief told him to close this case as fast as it was cracked open. I am to provide counsel in this case, so I'm acting consulting detective,” she elaborates calmly, “This case is highly risky to be let simmer too long as it could affect the Motion Picture Academy's public image in the coming future. If we could close this tomorrow, we should.” A pause, her tone growing lighter as she adds, “Chief's words, all that. Not mine.”

“Yeah I'd say this is tragic,” Eisen agrees, taking the information thoroughly to be put into later flimsiwork, “But there's a part of the galaxy that's probably celebrating right now.”

“How do you mean?”

“Right, I forgot you're not into films. You might wanna catch up to it since you're in this case anyway.” He refrains from rolling his eyes due to respect, and that Lesiil had worked with him for a long time. “Might as well brief you about the victim. Shon Vatore, Nic Erlonna’s toxic ex boyfriend. Both A-list actors. Broke up a year ago, made headlines ‘cause they were this dreamy power couple, okay? I shipped them too. But when the truth came out, I couldn't even look at this guy's face anymore. Pantoran charms, but all rotten inside. He was just the worst of the worst.”

“I see,” Lesiil solemnly says, humming. “And this Nic Erlonna? I have heard about her. Fox told me she's in relationship with Commander Wolffe.”

Eisen isn't surprised. “Yeah. You know Wolffe?”

“Of course. He was Railuu’s battalion commander. Good man, that Wolffe.”

“Right? They're so in love. Nicolffe, I mean.”

“It seems so!” She clears her throat. “Well, as much as I'd love to stay on the comm, I have an academic urgency coming up tomorrow so I'm unable to be out there with you. How about you take Beedee in my stead?”

For absolutely not comical purposes Eisen takes a look around cautiously before asking into the commlink, “Isn't that going against Chief's orders?”

“I will handle the consequences. I’m sure there's an alibi I can use since my study in law school is ongoing. This is called going around the rules, Eisen,” Lesiil says, as if she'd already planned this through before comming him, “And BD-6 is as good as me with his scans. Don't forget he's modified specifically as a competent crime scene analyst.” A little pause. “Isn’t that right, Beedee?”

A familiar trill goes through the comm.

Eisen melts a little inside. “I miss Beedee,” he nearly pouts. “Yeah okay, I'll take him down here. But I can't pick him up, I have to stay here.”

“Have one of the officers come by to my apartment, then?”

No. Not since one of the cases they handled together before Lesiil got assigned to the Coruscant Guard where BD-6 was badly damaged by a suspect because these officers couldn't give a shit to watch out for the droid's wellbeing. Eisen’s trust dwindles to their own police officers since then just a little because, well, they're the men of the unit. He needs to work with them. Just not trusting them with Lesiil's droid, is all.

“Ooohh I have a better idea.” He bites his lip to prevent himself from smiling. “And you'll definitely agree with me on this one, Les.”

[STATEMENT] It's been a while since I'm out at night.

Fox glances back and forth, between the binary translation transcript that hovers in one corner of his HUD (a generous modification by Thire) and BD-6, who's clinging to his backplate and the gap between his shoulder bell, the droid’s rectangular head looming over his shoulder. “A while?” he asks.

[STATEMENT] Lesiil goes home from her classes on the dot. Never have an evening out either.

Beneath his helmet, Fox sighs. “Why am I not surprised.”

He parks his speeder a block away due to the set perimeter for the entire street, and now he's forced to reach destination by foot.

Thinking about Lesiil and warm nights shared together – once or twice or perhaps thrice a week if he's not cramped up with senatorial demands and planet-wide security – makes his chest blooming with warmth. They've been together for months now, and everything is looking steady, personal boundaries kept as it is, their relationship tinged with mutual care and love for each other. He's never touched this phase of a relationship before, and overall it always feels special.

And such fact there is, it makes him sometimes turn to relationship advices. To Wolffe. To Bly. Heck, even the holoarticles in the net that's written by evident hopeless romantics who works three part time jobs to survive. It all seems sensible, but it always leaves him uncertain of what he'll do again, and the cycle always goes like that. Lesiil never complains or demands too much, as they, undeniably and excessively, buried under either work or projects.

Fox deliberately snails his pace along the dimmed pavement that's sparse of people yet, blue and purple lights of the planet that never sleeps reflecting on his armor and Beedee’s casings. “You think I should… take her out somewhere?”

Look at him. Now asking a droid for relationship stuff, out of all people.

[STATEMENT] You should, Mister Fox!

He chuckles lowly at the name, keeping his volume out of his helmet low. He'd insisted to omit the mister but the beskar’ad pretended not to listen. “Yeah? Any ideas?”

[QUERY] How about a nice restaurant topside?

Fox gloomily turns his head away from the pavement before him and the droid altogether, as if he could just unhear that statement by doing so. “I don't think I can afford that, Beedee.”

[STATEMENT] I don't think she cares.

He'd been here, but he indulges the beskar'ad anyway. “Yeah?”

[STATEMENT] She only cares how you would just be with her, Mister Fox.

“You're really sure about that.”

[STATEMENT] I am! I know her longer than you, Mister Fox.

Wolffe told him to always please the lady first with his own efforts. Or at least, if they insist and he can't do anything to stop the strong will of a woman.

Like Wolffe's own situation.

Lesiil fails to bring this up, but he pays it no mind. Perhaps the talk will have to come soon; to clear out any possible discomfort and awkwardness, and to provide more clarity and chances for initiation cues.

He's slowed his pace on purpose but once the edge of the perimeter slides into view, Fox picks it up, shifting to speed walks.

“I'll keep that in mind, Beedee. Thank you. Now we've got work to do.”

To make up for wasted time on his accord to talk to his girlfriend's droid wingman about taking her out, BD-6 lets out a small whoop, clinging tighter onto whatever ridge and gap his armor supplies as Fox breaks into a jog towards the central tent. 

Until one of the police droids strides in and halt their endeavors.

“Stop.” It raises both hands as if showing it won't cause harm, too. “You are not authorized to be here. Turn the other way and disperse immediately.”

Fox steps forward challengingly. “Former Detective Lesiil Thrace. We're here in her stead. This is her crime scene analyst droid BD-6, whose presence is explicitly requested by the case's lead investigator. Now you go check that again.”

It shifts its attention almost dumbly at Fox's pointing forefinger at it, before stilling on him. He gets a bad feeling about that.

“Non-sentient organic lifeform; detected. Classification: clone. You are not authorized to be here. Please disperse immediately.”

[STATEMENT] This is Marshal Commander CC-1010 of the Coruscant Guard. We have authorization!

Yeah you tell ‘em Beedee. Atta boy.

“Oi! I did let them in, droid!” A familiar voice shouts in a distance, and grows nearer followed by hasty stomps of boots. “I swear whoever handles your control center deserves a proper ear off.” 

[EXCLAMATION] Eisen!

A wide grin forms in the face of the purple Nautolan detective as he draws nearer, his towering and muscular stature almost puts Fox in a height disadvantage. With a sharp look to the police perimeter droid and a bat of the hand to shoo it off a couple meters to the side, it's almost comical. Proceeding to shut the narrower perimeter barricade ray shields that acts as the entryway, Eisen ushers them in and smiles again at BD-6. “Hey! Long time no see, little guy!”

They reconvene with a high-five.

[STATEMENT] Good to see you too!

“Commander Fox.” Eisen nods at him, who's been waiting patiently (BD-6 was loud with his trills and happy and Fox didn’t want to interrupt the joyful reunion), and clasps his forearm in greeting. “Thank you for taking Lesiil’s place, sir. Sorry to disrupt whatever your schedule is tonight.”

Fox reins in a shrug, his hands go behind his back. “In need of an outing anyway.” He wished tonight is a patrol night and not spreadsheets. “Just not expecting a murder crime scene.”

Making a way towards the center tent, Eisen beckons them to follow. He raises a finger. “So far the term's only limited to ‘crime scene’ only. No confirmation yet – we just got here and got these set up – whether this is self-inflicted or that somebody else is involved…” The Nautolan huffs a big sigh. “But yeah. Dead body, either way.”

“What's Lesiil got to do with this?” Fox asks. “She's not in CSF anymore.”

It's been burning in his mind. When he picked up BD-6 from her apartment, they didn't have much time for Lesiil to fill him in – just a promise that he'll drop BD-6 tomorrow morning before her classes when he makes rounds and a parting kiss.

“She’s ad hoc consulting detective to this case now. With that brilliant mind and top-of-the-world expertise, our Chief asked for her personally so this case is to be closed as soon as possible.”

I mean… she solved the Corrie Butcher case within one kriffing week.

“Outsource, freelance, third-party sort of thing,” Eisen continues to fill Fox in. “That means she has the power to help us in the investigation, limited to analyzing crime scenes and doing investigations of her own with the lead investigator's permit – that's me. And knowing me and Lesiil's partnership history, I'll just let her do what she does. Convenient.”

Behind his helmet, Fox lets out a noise of impression. Never know they've got something like this.

“The position also enables her to be present in court as a witness to testify and present her findings,” the detective supplies additionally, then switches to mumbling as if to himself, “If this ever gets there.”

Fox has made himself aware of the situation before getting here. BD-6 filled him in during the speeder ride. Osk'arr Awards after-party celebration turned to tragedy and loss when one of the nominees allegedly leapt off the rooftop and went splat on the pavement. Wolffe's girlfriend’s ex boyfriend. And emphasis on ‘allegedly’, because who knows it could've been murder?

Eisen flips over one flap of the massive tent for Fox and BD-6 to peer in. Said splat is… absolutely unrecognizable. There's a patch of blue and white, but the entirety is just… broken limbs, chunks of it, a massive blood splatter, and probably 50 or so bright yellow markers because of just how messy it is.

80 floors, he's heard. What the kriff.

BD-6 taps one leg against his shoulder bell repeatedly as if sensing his freeze response upon the stomach-churning sight.

“I can't take you closer in there, or else we have to put on hazmat suits,” Eisen says.

Fox takes in a deep breath and turns away, though his feet remain glued to the ground. “We can see just fine from here.” He switches off the HUD's zoom-in features and sighs deeply.

“BD-6!” one of the analysts beckons the beskar'ad with an enthusiastic wave of the hand, “Come over here! We need to sterilize you first before you get right into scanning!”

[STATEMENT] Coming!

“Can’t take it, sir?” remarks Eisen, a little too amusedly for Fox's liking. The Nautolan watches him bend down slightly so BD-6 can hop down safely and scurry off to the main scene. “I thought you guys have the stomach for it.”

Fox's helmeted glare intensifies the deadpan gesture itself. “Inspecting a grotesque crime scene isn't exactly in the Coruscant Guard's job description, Detective.”

“Right,” Eisen acknowledges with a small smile, sighing again as he takes the scene one last time. They move away from the tent, falling into a relaxed pace yet remaining cautious. “And to be honest, this is the goriest I've seen in my entire career.”

“Carry on, Detective,” prompts Fox, authority returning back to his cadence. “Anything I should know so I may fill in your consulting detective?”

Eisen sighs, casting a sidelong glance at him. “Not much yet. Witness statements are still pouring in. Once we collect everything I'll send all to Lesiil for her to skim through. Maker knows she loves doing that.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “So. From what we've gathered, Nic and Wolffe made an early exit. She looked pretty shaken. Witnesses saw them coming out of the lift, presumably from the rooftop, where allegedly Shon took the fall from. We're still trying to get security footage.”

The mention of Wolffe's name halts Fox in his steps.

No karking way.

Wolffe hasn't always been known as the nicest in the batch – that's Bly and Rex. Wolffe is blunt and direct with everyone he sees, but never violent. There ain't a single bone in his body that'd harm someone to the point of actually killing them.

But what he knows about Wolffe, protectiveness is his second nature. There's no other man who checks in and bonds with his squad like he is. Maybe he takes too much after his General with all the Jedi's paternal love, but it's the value that latches itself onto Wolffe's very personality. Wolffe could never kill another, especially with vengeful motives, if following the fact that the victim is his girlfriend’s ex. It's petty, and Wolffe would never do it without reason. The worst thing he's done and can do is learning droid mechanics with the sole wish of reprogramming a yapping droid that'd make his ears combust inside out if he ever finds one.

“Words spread, and they're divided into two,” Eisen continues, “One said he ended his own life, the other said Nic pushed him off.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Right?” the other man echoes his genuine disbelief, “I swear, there's only two types of people in the galaxy; Nic stans and Nic haters.”

“She wouldn't do this,” Fox insists, agreeing on Eisen's part. To put it bluntly, it seems obvious the detective does believe this incident is entirely self-inflicted (as obvious that the detective is also a big fan of the entertainment industry). “Based on what I've learned about her.”

Eisen hums. “How much?”

“Enough.”

Actually; a lot. Quite a lot. Wolffe is closest to him, both are each other's confidantes, and Nic Erlonna drops by once or twice to CG Headquarters.

“We need to question Nic, too. Hoping she wouldn't lawyer up. This must've been shocking.”

Fox rolls his shoulders back in newfound determination, turning to Eisen. “What do you want us to do?”

In the detective's hand is a datapad that seems to manifest out of nowhere. What the heck.

“We've found a set of fingerprints on the body… on the not bloody patch of skin, thankfully… and we're trying to match it with our database. Since we've determined our persons of interest are Nic Erlonna and Commander Wolffe as of now, we need to figure out if this is self-inflicted or premeditated murder.”

Eisen fixes a look at him that seems somehow hesitant, almost feeling bad, perhaps at the mention of person of interest followed by Wolffe's name. Perhaps the other man knows how close he is to Wolffe, due to Lesiil's unique connections with them all. Fox challengingly accepts the staring contest, the expression conveyed enough by the blank visor of his crimson helmet.

”And we were thinking… since you and Lesiil are close to him, we'd like you to approach them as soon as possible to gain information for the sake of this case,” the lead investigator settles, “We’ve reached Nic's PA and we'll make sure you'll be hearing something in the morning. Starting now, you have 24 hours.”

“How's mock trial goin’?”

Entering the lobby of the most lavish apartment building in the heart of Coruscant, not only Lesiil was still adorned in formal attire that one would wear in the courtroom, but with the sweetheart smile Fox always adores with every single beat of his heart, too. Yet as soon as he made that comment with the smuggest grin, her shoulders visibly slump.

“Please don't tease me like that, cyare,” she huffs, plopping down next to him on the plush lobby couch. “I have studied all night for the session to be postponed until Zhellday. And I missed Shon Vatore's crime scene last night for absolutely nothing. Can you believe that?”

Yeah, but his heart is melting to the way the Mando'a word for beloved rolls off her tongue flawlessly. He's still lost in how the early morning sun that pierces through the window casts a certain godlike glow onto her being. He doesn't even know what the word godlike is supposed to depict, but he's certain his beloved (even being grumpy) is an accurate depiction.

Lesiil pokes his armored thigh.

“I can,” Fox answers finally, his arm that's been splaying over the back of the couch sliding downwards to drape over her shoulders. “But you got enough sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“And you sure this is okay with your school?”

Uncomfortable with the motion, Lesiil shrugs off his arm and scoots a further back. “It will not hinder me.” She hooks her forefinger with his instead. “Chief sent me a permit letter and I've sent it to administration. We should be doing fine, I have it handled. The concern is unnecessary.”

Fox snorts. “Just asking, Les’ika.” Stars, sometimes he just wants to kiss her into the nearby wall so she'd just kriffing shut up. The last two sentences were unnecessary. “I can't even start small talks with you when all you're doing is slamming my commander’s concerned ass back down?”

Lesiil smiles apologetically. “Forgive me then, Marshal,” she says genuinely without the slightest bite of sarcasm. Then she slightly turns and reaches down, holding up an overnight pac– wait, that's his. “I brought you this.”

As soon as he grabs and unzips the reserve regulation pack he stows at hers, he peers inside and finds his crimson red dress shirt and grey trousers. “Civvies? These are yours?”

“Yours, you silly,” Lesiil laughs quietly, knowing full well he's cracking a joke. “I imagine we'll be doing a lot of talking and sitting down on a plush couch that's fluffier and way pricier than mine that it's going to make you uncomfortable, and I don't want to have your armor digging into the spot where the twin suns of Tatooine don't shine.”

Fox chokes on air and coughs violently into his elbow.

“Commander Fox and Detective Thrace?”

He hurriedly zips his pack close and gathers his discarded helmet. “Ah, that will be us.” His cyare gets to her feet first, patting her formal outerwear down and stepping forward to greet the actress’ personal assistant because kriffing finally. “But for my part, it's Former Detective.”

The red Mikkian lady in business attire reciprocates the gesture with equal professional demeanor, and shakes Lesiil’s hand. “Of course, apologies for that bit.” She shakes Fox's afterward. “Pleased to meet you. And call me Veeli. If you would follow me, please.”

They're led further into the building. Inside, the smell of luxury fragrance grows stronger, something that Fox would always encounter when entering one of the offices that belong to fat-pocketed senators. That, and the light elevator music that's slightly goofy for Fox's taste.

“On behalf of CSF, I would like to apologize for intruding on the muse’s schedule this morning,” Lesiil says in the middle of the silence.

“That's okay,” Veeli replies curtly, her narrow tendrils floating and flicking every once in a while. “She's empty at the moment.”

Fox, stashing himself in the back of the elevator out of habit, has his eyes intent on the ever adding floor indicator. “Is Wolffe up there?”

“He is,” the assistant replies without looking back at him, “He stayed the night to look after her.”

“That's very kind,” Lesiil comments, and the brief conversation ends there when they reach the designated floor. Not penthouse yet, Fox notices. He adjusts his grip on his pack, the weight awkward due to the folded clothes where the vast space provided is supposedly to fit his entire kit and backup body gloves. So where are we going?

His internal question is answered as soon as they're led out, met the two bulky natborn bodyguards that man an entrance that leads to yet another corridor. A private one, based on how it feels homey and seems decorated with personal touches. Holoposters of various films hang on beige-painted walls. Soon he realizes they're all the ones Nic Erlonna have been in. A filmography of sorts, a showcase of glory throughout her career, as if reminding the guests that are entering her home.

Then, another elevator ride. There's only three buttons on the panel. Veeli presses the second one, and the doors shut. No music this time since the ride is short, and once they arrive, Fox is already lost in awe at how massive the open floor plan is. Huge floor-to-ceiling window for a first wall, untinted to let the morning sun in. Zero dust. Squeaky clean marble flooring and expensive-looking rugs.

Kriff. Three floors of dwelling. In this huge ass building. Wolffe you spoiled son of a droid.

Veeli ushers them in and has them settled on the main seating area. “Please wait here for a moment. We'll be right back with you in a few.”

It had been quite a few.

Fox groans as soon as he sees Wolffe bounding down the stairs. “There you kriffing are.”

Wolffe, clad in a set of crisp dark silver shirt and trousers that makes him look ready to grab a random guy off a street to force his health insurance company on and would definitely beat them to a pulp if they refuse, scowls. “We just woke up.”

Fox stands and goes to meet the commander in the middle, saying, “Told you we could hear you.” With a shit-eating grin and typical reunion enthusiasm, they share a little tap to the forehead. “Su’cuy, Wolffe. I'm traumatized as kark now thanks to you.” Fox clasps him on the shoulder before letting go. 

Wolffe snorts, mismatched eyes taking a swift once-over at Fox, who's now dressed the same way as him for the sake of comfort, the crimson marshal commander armor stuffed into his pack. “As if you don't do it with your girl.”

“Do what?”

They turn to see Lesiil just pocketing her commlink as she makes her way from around the corner.

Fox scoffs. “Don't play dumb, Les’ika. You heard them going at it too.”

“I prefer playing dumb, actually,” she smiles innocently, studying the presence of the other man and quite visibly brightens up. “Commander Wolffe!” She shakes his offered hand, and Fox can see her almost vibrating with joy. How she's keeping her voice calm, it's a wonder. Royal etiquettes put into work, most likely. “Good to meet you again. I hope I'm not boring to your eyes yet.”

“Never, Thrace. You're a family friend to the 104th.”

“Then call me Lesiil, Commander.”

“Then it's Wolffe,” the man reciprocates with a kinder and welcome tone, his professionalism returning back just a smidge, “And I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Fox lets out a single dry, humorless laugh. “You apologized to her and not me? What am I, gundark meat?”

“Wolffe?!” a female voice yells from upstairs.

The commander scowls, rolling his eyes, before turning around to the direction of the staircase. “Down here!”

A moment later, a head peeks out at the turn of the stairs, platinum blond hair let loose but not messy. Nic Erlonna the actress. Fox studies her eyes briefly scanning over them three. “Um, what's going on?”

“Urgencies we can't ignore this morning,” Wolffe replies curtly, almost dutifully.

A loud sigh. Nico's head disappears from sight. “Okay, but I don't remember having an appointment this early. I didn't put any makeup on!” she yells again, then her full figure comes into view and descends the staircase at last. “Why wasn't I told about this?”

Clad in a simple t-shirt and what seems to be a cotton jogging trousers, the great actress that won so much award in her entire career looks just like a regular civilian (or in Fox's opinion; more like one of those natborn students that oversleeps after working on a project late into the night). Much to her dismay, apparently.

“Just…” Wolffe sighs. “You're fine.” He turns to both Fox and Lesiil. “The assistant let you in?”

The latter nods. “Yes, she did.”

“I swear, Veeli is now running things on her own. I'm scared for my life.” Nico sidles next to Wolffe and does a double take. “Oh. Commander Fox?” She enthusiastically thrusts out a hand in greeting, which he shakes. “Looking dapper with all that getup, Commander. Almost didn't recognize you.”

Fox merely nods, his hand returning to his side. “Ma'am.”

“How are the boys in your HQ?”

“Good, Ma'am.”

“Sorry I look indecent,” she complains mostly to herself once again, gesturing grandly to herself.

Wolffe sneers, “You're dressed and that's enough. Makeup isn't necessary for now.” The commander then beckons for the other woman who's been watching the interaction with a polite smile and a glint of amusement in storm grey eyes. “This is Detective Lesiil Thrace.”

Lesiil clears her throat. “Former Detective.”

“Yeah, that.” He rolls his eyes, though smiling a little, fondly. “This is Nic Erlonna.”

The blonde’s eyebrows raise sky-high in recognition and awe. “Oh, riiight!” Another introduction handshake, one piece of courtesy that Lesiil enjoys so much. “The famed Lesiil Thrace with all those notorious cases? An honor to meet you in person!” Fox bathes himself in pride for his cyare. Nico's grin fades, as if in realization. “But uh, just to be clear; what are you doing here?”

Lesiil lets out a quiet breath. “If I could put this gently without all these pressing deadlines, I would,” she says, “But this is about last night's incident, Miss Erlonna.”

Nico blinks in realization. “Right,” she mutters almost sadly, brightening up and putting on what Fox observes as a forced, pained smile, as if wishing she could stall this nightmare a little longer. “We can talk about it over breakfast?” she offers, gesturing to the side with an arm, to the direction of the dining room.

“Thank you. That's very kind,” Lesiil says with a polite smile, and the four of them collectively make their way. Fox knows he should just follow Lesiil's cues. She's the one who knows how to be a proper guest in someone else's dwelling – after all, he never does. Calling and leading a breach squad to take in an enemy of the state, that's what he does. That's all he knows.

“The least I could do,” Nico easily replies, and they find seating in the grand eight-person dining table. “But I still can't exactly understand why you're here, Detective.” Her tone is curious, not meaning to jab, Fox observes. “You announced your early retirement from police work, right?”

Fox has just finished seating Lesiil – something he'd learned after a couple of dinner dates, before taking one to her right himself. “That's correct,” his cyare answers.

“So?” Nico prompts again, who's already seated in front of Lesiil.

“I am acting as a consulting detective at the moment,” the former detective enunciates, “Meaning I, representing the CSF Criminal Investigations Department, am here to gather information for my own independent investigation so I can forward it to the police for further processing and guide them to solve the case as fast as possible.”

Nico stares long into Lesiil for a moment, taking every word cautiously, the playful glint earlier in olive green eyes had already dissipated. Nodding, as if thinking to herself. It's quiet for a moment. Wolffe and Fox trade a look, but the other man merely shrugs.

Stars. Even outside the cold confines of either assembly room or war room, they carry their habits to stay quiet when the ones with power are talking. And honestly, it's comforting still, somewhat. Like they can just be themselves still, outside the very institution they were born for.

“Didn't know you have that kinda stuff,” Nico says finally, breaking her mulling just as breakfast is served, the server droid making no audible noise loud enough to break the silence.

Me too, Fox thinks, until last night, apparently.

“It is a piece of information rarely made public and kept close among our peers only,” Lesiil says, picking up her utensils when Nico, as the host, does. Fox follows her movement meticulously. Something he's never done, again, but he's adapting. “And yours is a special, high-profile case, Miss Erlonna. High-profile cases such as this need to be handled delicately, and swiftly, because the pressing demands by the Motion Pictures Academy simply cannot be taken lightly. It would damage their public image, and yours.”

Neither of the four had already dug into their food. It's hearty and tasty, and looks very diet-balanced. The weight of the topic is dawning on them, but seemingly not as much for Nico. She's wolfing down her plate as if the conversation was never about what it is, after all. Like judging the choice of weather today or something.

“So on behalf of the institution and Coruscant Security Force, I hope you will be willing to fully cooperate with us.”

Another moment of silence, but briefer. He had breakfast already at the mess… but I suppose a second helping won't hurt. He looks at Wolffe, who's digging in at last. Yeah, just today. Kriff diet. This is home food.

“Okay,” Nico acknowledges at last, “But… won't that involve you guys reading me the rights to remain silent and call a lawyer or something?”

Lesiil shakes her head. “No. My early retirement no longer leaves me the power to read you your rights, and neither is Commander Fox.”

Yeah, as if he had it. As if he could. He and his unit is the brute force that gets thrown the harshest part of an op, after all. Not the legal part and stuff.

Lesiil continues, “However, with me being here, you are entitled to speak freely. Admit your side of the story very clearly and leave nothing out.” One hand comes from under the table, and it carries out a recording device, setting it on top for everybody to see. “It will be recorded and used in court, with me taking to the witness stand to defend your side of the story as well.”

“Wouldn't that be too excessive?” Wolffe breaks the full-minute tension, arms crossing across his chest, “You have recording already, why would you need to take the stand?”

Fox hesitantly turns. Lesiil trades an unreadable look with him, but he notes of her insistence – her Lorrdian blood better be kept a secret. “Let's just say I am a master at reading nonverbal communications,” Lesiil finally says, offering a smile of reassurance, “I will know whether you tell the truth or not.”

“If you don't,” Fox adds quickly with a firmer tone, eyes studying Nico's attentive demeanor, “Lesiil is allowed to refuse to testify for you.”

“And help the prosecutor build the case instead. Not for your team of lawyers,” Lesiil clarifies, and both of them collectively take the look of concern traded between the other couple. Lesiil lets out a small, quiet sigh, and reassuringly adds, “If this would be taken to the courtroom.”

Wolffe catches on. “So there's no charges against her?”

“Not yet,” Fox shakes his head.

“The victim's family hasn't filed any charges yet,” Lesiil elaborates further, “My CSF contact who is the lead investigator of this case informed me that the victim's family wishes to know the truth first beforehand, and is helping in the investigation as well.”

“Meaning if this takes a darker turn, there's gonna be charges,” adds Fox, having been briefed further by Eisen this morning via comms.

“Their lawyers were present,” Lesiil says again, spilling everything by this point. Nico perks up and is intensely listening again. “The family has spoken to us as such, and will be regarded as such unless something's changed.”

Wolffe lets out a huge sigh, turning to Nico. “His family a whole bunch of assholes too?”

Her eyebrows furrow, almost in doubt. That, or offended. “No, on the contrary. They like me, actually,” she mutters mindfully, “It’s just their son is– was that screwed up…”

After yet another brief look traded to each other they continue their breakfast in silence. Lesiil only eats about half, Fox notices. If they weren't in someone else's house he would've wolfed it down. Food can't go to waste, and this is good and homey.

Lesiil folds her hands on top of the table. “You can start your story whenever you're ready, Miss Erlonna.”

“I…” Nico huffs, nervousness bleeding off her person, “I can begin at the after-party. Is that okay?”

“As long as it remains factual.”

“Don't say anything!” shouts a new voice from the doorway. Veeli the assistant returns, with the usual datapad clutched closely and a new company to their group. The masculine voice earlier belonged to this yellow-skinned Zabrak with tattoos, brown hair slicked back and sharply dressed. They stop at the other end of the table, closest to Nico, and the new guy points a finger at her. “Say you want a lawyer, Nico.”

The actress sighs loudly. “Titus, relax.”

As they plunge into an argument, Fox eyes Wolffe and mouths who the heck is that? clear enough for the other man to answer manager.

“If I may speak,” Lesiil breaks out resolutely, her voice slightly raised among the chatter and almost sternly glowers onto the three. “These are neutral grounds. We are no police.”

The manager, Titus, glares back, his fists clench – Fox flattens his boots against the floor at the ready. “But you represent them, Detective.”

“For my own personal investigation that would help the police solve this case,” Lesiil calmly affirms, then more with a firmer cadence, “Miss Erlonna is pinned down by the media as we speak, and I reckon neither the muse or CSF want their name tainted by being accused of felony crime and unprofessionalism by the public, respectively. I serve as the means to accelerate this case to its final resolution within 24 hours since the incident.”

“And don't start about the Academy,” Nico butts in, voice lowered with apprehension, almost with fear. “My rep's in danger, Titus.”

The manager scrubs both hands down his face. “At least get a lawyer to defend your liability, Nic.”

“No. I wanna speak freely.” The muse turns to the assistant. Wow. The audacity of this lady disregarding any kind of law protection. “Vee, any news about Shon and me?”

“The incident is making rounds in morning holonews channels as we speak,” the Mikkian says, tapping and thumbing away at her datapad, “Viral social media tags. Mentions. Comments. Reactions, hates. It’ll be too much by lunch time.”

Nico gives a bitter smile. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Another moment of sympathizing silence. Fox feels like cartwheeling because what the kark was all that. The manager seems kinda stupid… but he appreciates his insistence as it's supposed to be done.

Lesiil forks a little more of the nerf sausage (It makes Fox proud by watching. No food waste it seems.), before she prompts as politely as possible, “Can we continue?”

Nico turns to the other two, sighing tiredly, and waves a hand. “Just… sit down. I was just getting started before you panicked nunas came in.”

Both newcomers stare with each other before relenting. “Yeah, sorry,” Veeli shrugs, looking down to her datapad instead. Titus takes a seat at the other end of the table, Veeli next to Nico. “What did you talk about?” she asks.

“I was only getting into it,” Nico rolls her eyes. Leaning back to her seat, her plate already clean, she begins with a sigh, “After that Bye Bye Bye by B’SYNC karaoke I headed outside for some fresh air. Some social me-time, as always. It was getting suffocating and I went up to the rooftop.”

“Is the rooftop supposed to be public?” Lesiil straight up asks, easily stepping back into the investigative air waiting for her return.

“It’s preserved for celebs like us to take a breather.”

“But not everyone knows about it,” Titus butts in, his voice uncharacteristically low and solemn after all that loud intervention, “That's why the security was minimal.”

Nico turns to him. “There were no security personnel or whatever, Titus.”

Fox sharply turns to Wolffe, questioningly, the other man nods just subtly in confirmation. Whose stupid idea was that?

The Zabrak’s eyes widen in surprise. “Kriff, really?” One hand flies to his hair, his dark brows crease into a frown. “But there were cameras.”

“My CSF contact who leads this investigation is looking into it as we speak,” Lesiil reassures, turning to Nico again. “Please continue, Miss Erlonna.”

“I was up there. Just thinking,” the muse picks up, “Then Shon came up to me.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh y'know, just the same old. Wanted to get back together, and I refused.” She quietly shakes her head. The entire table is enveloped with a wistful blanket at that moment, knowing what's next. “I just… didn't realize he would take such extreme measures.”

It's not after a full minute where everyone either drinks their water or finishes up their plates or just mulling that Fox begins to feel the silence stretches too long. It feels familiar again; that first orientation command-wide meeting where Lesiil introduced herself and began to present her findings – where she brought up about death. She gave them a moment of silence; to gather, to mourn again in a short pocket of time, before picking it up again. But he now knows behind such thoughtfulness, the gears inside her brain remain whirring and ticking; sprouting out plausible theories, connecting the dots.

It's exactly what he deems as his mirror; her mind is tirelessly working. Running on the clock, racing against time, never resting even in the midst of mind-cracking puzzles. Always finding a way out. Though in regards to strategy, his is far more excellent. He maps through and creates strategies in minutes, while she perhaps could supply every single possible risk to take into consideration. Together – a plan hatched into perfection.

Shame the Coruscant Guard isn't allowed to recruit natborns. Even if it is, he'd think twice before instantly picking Lesiil to take up office in HQ.

And her mind continues working. Always. Even after retiring, it remains complex. Trained, stimulated. Going back to the current situation, as the moment fits, she picks up again, “What exactly did you two talk about before it happened?”

Nico gulps the last of her water before answering, “It's just that I refused. He wanted to be friends. After what he did to me, I just… I couldn't. I don't want to. He was toxic throughout our relationship.” She lets out a wistful sigh, probably also wishing the water was wine. “I'd be an idiot.”

Lesiil prompts her to continue on her own.

“I was just about to leave,” Nico resumes, arms winding around herself to provide some comfort. Wolffe not so quietly drags his chair closer in protectiveness, their shoulders brushing. Nico leans into him. Fox softens at the sight. “Turned my back around and he called me, I turned and saw him already standing on that ledge. Tried to talk it out, even lied that I still loved him because if I'd taken him back he wouldn't do that.” Her voice breaks in reliving the incident. “But well, he did. I tried to grab him too, but he let go of my grip and–” she throws her hands up “–down he went.”

“Mersace fined us for the damage of your dress,” says Veeli a moment later.

“That could be evidence,” Fox says quickly, glancing next to him.

Lesiil meets his gaze, nodding. “I will inform my contact about it.” Her attention sweeps around the table. “We'll handle it. Now to the current problem; how would we know whether you're telling the truth at all, Miss Erlonna?”

Fox's breath hitches. Veeli gasps.

“Oh kark’s sake,” Titus facepalms.

Nico's eyebrows furrow, lips slightly parted conveying her shock, and perhaps offended.

“Are you kidding?!” Wolffe blurts out, his expression hardens directly at Lesiil, almost growling, “I thought you were on our side, Thrace.”

“I will, if there is sufficient documentary evidence. It should be security footage, but we're still looking through it. Even if we get a hold of it when it does show that you tried to save him and not purposefully letting him go,” Lesiil meets his hard tone fairly, but reined with an ample amount of respect, still. She shakes her head. “It won't be enough, because we also need to hear that it happened as you said.”

“Les.”

He'd better step in. The last thing he needs is his cyare embarrassing herself. Exhaling, Lesiil softens when she meets his warning glare.

“Don’t overstep,” he says, drawing the sternest tone he'd usually pull when she worked under him. He gently cocks his head in Nico's direction. “See for yourself. You can tell if she tells the truth.”

“I am aware Miss Erlonna does tell the truth. She's innocent,” she asserts – there’s something about it that makes Fox think this is one of the moments she won't back down. “But the jury won't, if this case gets taken to court and we still lack evidence by then. We're running out of time, that's why we need stronger documentary evidence to build this case where she's innocent.”

“This is not legal consultation!” he scolds, voice slightly raised, “So stop playing prosecutor for now and just lend your ear. Be a friend. An ally. That's why you're here.”

Silence ensues as Lesiil blinks at his outburst, glancing away to escape his scrutiny. No, not escape. More like; utilizing the pause in their bicker so that he could think that perhaps he's been the one embarrassing her at that moment.

Kark. He's not her boss anymore. Why is it easy to forget?

Wolffe lifts an eyebrow at him. Fox what the hell?

I just… He sighs, breaking the other clone’s scrutiny. Sorry.

“Let's just say we're in a focus group discussion for now,” Veeli calmly says, being the first one to speak.

Lesiil puts on a meek, guilty smile. “Apologies. For my insistence and on behalf of the Marshal Commander. I have an ongoing study in law school. I suppose I was carried away.”

One of many things Fox admires about her; where he ducks his way out of tough situations by just carefully making himself invisible, she confronts it with a flawless smile, admits her wrong, and clears presumed mistakes to start over. 

Nico is propping her jaw in her palm, low, with elbow on the table. “Yeah?” she drawls, yet not without interest. It's the tone someone uses when they're actually impressed towards something mundane. “That's cool, though.”

“You're laying out the entire game in case anything goes wrong by identifying possible legal loopholes firsthand,” Wolffe joins in, the air around him opposite of Nico. For less than a second his mismatched eyes glares at Fox before returning back to Lesiil with a look of pride. “You're good.”

Lesiil nods in thanks. “It's what a good lawyer would do.”

Kriff he's a shit boyfriend isn't he.

“I wanna recruit her when she graduates,” Nico declares with a sudden burst of energy. She turns to Veeli. “Can I? Do that?”

Fox holds back a sigh. “Let's focus on what we have on our plates first, Ma'am.”

“Yeah,” Titus bitterly agrees. As soon as he turns to Lesiil, he unwinds his folded arms. “But, uh, can you tell us just what's happening currently in your investigation?”

“Right now, generally, everything points to Miss Erlonna,” states the former detective, “You have a connection to the victim. The toxic former relationship and his constant harassment might be a possible motive for you to take him out of the picture, driving your actions – supposed you're guilty of manslaughter – questionable, because there was an option to issue a restraining order against Mr Vatore's harassment. It makes you look guilty for bypassing a lawful protection as such.”

“I just… didn't want to,” Nico mutters, the weight finally sitting on her stomach. She scrubs both hands down her face. “It'd make him look bad. Stupid, I know.”

Fox refrains from saying anything to that. He looks at Wolffe. Subtly, the 104th commander shrugs, his eyes rolling as if yeah she's an idiot I know.

“On another note,” Lesiil continues, not intending to let the progressive answer to Titus's question stalled, “We did find your fingerprints on the victim, Miss Erlonna. This strengthens your presence at the scene of the crime.”

“Around the wrist, right?” Nico enthusiastically clasps her own wrist, fumbling experimentally, mimicking her own grasp that attempted to save the dead guy. “That's where I tried to hold onto him.”

“Yes.” Lesiil’s forefinger curls on her chin in thought. “But such a fact is a double-edged blade, still.”

Wolffe huffs, his look impatient yet knows better than to rush the hassle. “Is there anything we can do at all?”

“Not yet,” Fox answers, the most recent briefing this morning still etched into his mind – every single progress mentioned. “But we're running out of time all the same.”

“He was just this… sick person.” All heads turn to Titus. The manager seems to be always overlooked, but if anyone knows what seems to be lurking in the entertainment industry – rumors and sick threats and conspiracy theories – it's him. His arms are crossed again over his chest, seemingly just resurfaced from his own deep lake of thoughts. As he's supposed to be; to salvage Nico's public image that perhaps has already been broken, bit by bit. He shrugs. “I personally think he was sick or something. Mentally ill.”

“Possibly,” Wolffe contributes without missing a beat, “Obsessive love to the point of this is a thing.”

“You think he'd write a diary or something?” Veeli chimes in, and insightfully adds, “He was into traditional stage plays. He was a poetic kinda guy.”

Fox fishes his comlink out. 

“I do think he would,” Lesiil says thoughtfully. Fox glances up, briefly witnessing the storm grey in her eyes brewing maps and connecting the dots, darting here and there as if mapping an imaginary plan, her mind fully at work.

Stars it feels like we're inside her mind. He can't even exaggerate how refreshing it feels. It's nostalgic. It always brings him back to that meeting room where she was first introduced.

“Inspecting the victim's mobile devices. Searching his residence. Residences, if there is more than one.” At last, she sighs, and Fox can hear the weight bleed off her shoulders. “This would take a while.” Then, gently, she says to him, “Tell Eisen about this?”

He doesn't look up, already pulling up the lead investigator’s comm channel. “Way ahead of you, DT.”

“So with her case,” Wolffe points to the woman next to him, “From her side of the story – it's a dead end?”

Lesiil nods. “Unfortunately. As I said, nothing about it can save herself for now.”

That earns hesitant looks traded among the four. With that said, it's as good as trust the process and wait it out.

“Trust me, I too wish my testimony, based on my analysis on nonverbal cues, could suffice in court to clear you out of suspicion and eventually rules the victim's death as suicide.”

“A great day, wasn't it, Beedee?”

[STATEMENT] I miss field work. Thanks for bringing me along, Lesiil!

She smiles fondly, offering a fist bump to the little droid perching on her back. “Of course.” Fishing out the key card to her apartment, Lesiil and BD-6 trades one last glance before entering the premises. “What would I do without you, after all, Beedee?”

The rest of the happy boops is a music to her ears. Homely soft amber warmth greets Lesiil once she steps in, immediately busying to take off her boots and stash it in the wee storeroom. Fox is here. His own white boots is where they usually are when he's home, as are parts of his armor. But… why only parts? Is he not cleaning himself up yet?

Beedee had scurried off earlier all by himself, the familiar weight on her shoulders already gone. She steps out of the little room, the door sliding close. She checks the front door lock mechanisms, locking it for the night. Fox is always home now during Centaxday nights. As she's about to turn and grab a look at the chronometer in the furthest wall of the living area, a pair of strong arms, still covered with familiar GAR body glove, wrap around her waist from behind.

“I'm sorry I was an ass.”

Lesiil melts into the embrace. No ‘welcome home’? she's about to joke, but the way Fox pulls her impossibly closer to his chest as if trying to absorb her under his skin. His dark locks tickling her ear and jaw as he presses his face close into her neck, nuzzling against the collar of her work attire. She always feels safe in his arms, but the way he tightens them around her denotes what she identifies as desperation.

Then it clicks.

She almost forgets about it because of the enthusiasm of going back to field investigative work (even though only involving reviewing available evidence and connecting them, writing up a request for warrant, and traveling to the other side of Coruscant to search for more evidence). It took a whole day, now the chronometer perhaps showing 2200.

She releases a slow breath, placing her hands stop his, that are clinging onto the flap of her jacket. Definitely not letting go anytime soon.

“Is this about when you scolded me this morning, my love?”

Fox hums. “That was uncalled for.” His voice is meek, muffled by her clothes as he nuzzles further into them. “You looked like you were going to stab me or something at the moment. Or cry.”

Lesiil can't help the amused smile threatened to latch onto her lips. “That was a poor observation, cyare,” she chuckles quietly. Slowly peeling his arms a little so she can turn around and meet his eyes – amber brown pools carefully studying every strand that makes up the tapestry of her soul. Eye bags, soft stress lines, a little frown thats’s always present when he's in doubt. He's the worst when it comes to hide his facial expressions, making it all clear for her to read. He doesn't mind. All for her to see. All that is hers to see, to admire, and to love.

“Fox.” She tucks away the locks that fall over his forehead, silver threads of hair among them. It always falls back, sweeping across his skin and kissing his eyelids – a futile attempt that she'd do over and over again. “I was never angry to begin with.”

His frown deepens. “I don't believe you.”

Lesiil can't help the chuckle tumbling off her lips. In a disguise of caressing his cheeks, her smile grows in satisfaction when she feels the skin under her tender touch warms. “You silly man.”

“That's right.” He lets his head falls into her shoulder, hiding his face into the crook of her neck again. Her heart melts. Always does, when he's particularly clingy. “I'm still yours, right?”

“Please, as if I'm leaving you to your sad and lonely marshal commander duties.”

He sniffs. “That's cruel.”

One of her hands card through his hair in a loving pace, another arm splaying over his built shoulders. “You did nothing wrong,” Lesiil explains, “I admit I was carried away but you ground me, Fox. And I appreciate that, wholeheartedly.”

He hums. “You sure?”

“I am very sure, cyare.”

“But I raised my voice at you.”

“I’m not made of cheap glass, Marshal,” she says a little firmly, delivering a long kiss into his hair. A little greasy from daylong sweat under that helmet, but they're sharing the same predicament – just home after work. “Sometimes all I need is a firmer presence that grounds me. And that's you, Fox.”

Lesiil pulls always slightly. She wants to look at him in the eyes. Nothing more. It gives her joy to see if one thing amuses him, or if another displeases him. Gently, still wrapped inside the safe confines of Fox's arms, she cradles the sides of his scarred face. The long mark across his nose, the faded gash on his left jaw, and the little healed cuts on his eyebrow and the corner of his lips that she enjoys all for herself.

“Please don't sulk. Yes? This sight of you breaks my heart a little.” A soft peck to the scar on the corner of his lip. “I don't want you to be sad because of a small misunderstanding.”

The response is a sweet kiss to the lips. Then two, a little deeper than before. Then three, that makes her smile against his lips. Fox leans his forehead against hers, his gloveless fingers stroking her cheek lovingly. “Shower with me?”

She hums a no. “I’m afraid I still have a little work to do. Eisen is sending me the official report tonight and expecting me to deliver the news.”

“It all went well?” he asks, a little too energized. A smirk slide into his lips and adorns his already handsome, sharp-featured face. “You miss all that?”

“I admit I do. To go back and investigate on site, the entire process of it. Warrant, search, found, bag. Solving the puzzle, connecting the dots. It all felt good.” Smiling, Lesiil presses a long kiss to his lips, delivering her entire heart into the notion, receiving a honey-sweet smile in return. “Thank you for asking, ner al’verde.”

Her commlink beeps. Knowing it's probably what they've been waiting for, her cyare lets go immediately and leans closer to inspect the message together.

“Oh,” Lesiil grins, “Good news to be delivered.”

“It was the search warrants that took so much time, but we worked as fast as we could. We found the victim's mobile devices, various holonotes and holojournals. Every single means where he could possibly write his journal, we skimmed through every single one.”

Under the umbrella of nervousness and anticipation, Nico's hands are fiddling with the hem of her camisole. “That was fast.”

The holo figure of the former detective shifts, and then suddenly there's a little biped droid clinging onto her arm like some bird. She smiles at it in acknowledgment before returning to the holo. “My droid BD-6 processes mobile devices faster. We tend to get results on the spot.” The droid boops its confirmation. “And we did. We found various entries in his journals that spoke of his intention to end his life had you not reciprocated his feelings.”

Wolffe, who's reclined next to her on the bed and out of frame, hums his satisfaction at the revelation. Nico sighs heavily, heavy burden finally cracks and crumbles and vanishes off her chest.

“So…” she begins hesitantly, “So I'm cleared out of suspicion, right?”

All she wants is to jump and scream into the air and perhaps party while blowing off some fireworks as soon as she sees the detective nodding her head.

“Yes, and there weren't any charges to begin with. Just deadlines and media scrutiny, I suppose, Miss Erlonna,” Thrace smiles reassuringly, “Moreover, one of the family members came forward and told us of the victim's intentions. But they were threatened so they kept it a secret. It's crystal clear now that you are not at fault, at all. This is something the victim had brought upon himself.”

Nico lets out another breath of relief, her limbs still trembling from the extremity of it. From the toxic behavior to begin with. Way back to their relationship. Not my fault.

“Though I believe you will run quite a session with your lawyer team. Speaking as a law student myself, they would absolutely have a word with you about not issuing that restraining order in the first place.”

“That wouldn't be able to stop Shon.” She would usually return the slipped joke easily, but first things first. “It wouldn't make much difference. I know him. He was passionate. Guess when it comes to me it turned into a sick obsession that made me wanna barf every damn time.”

“Who knew it would've gone better,” the former detective remarks, “But as of now, you have nothing more to worry about, Miss Erlonna. As I said, the victim's family filed no charges in the first place, they have accepted the truth, and this case is finally closed.”

Gods she feels like crying. Her reputation – saved!

“I can't tell you just how relieved I am, Detective.”

Thrace nods deeply. “I am sure. I feel the same for you, Miss Erlonna. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Both Nico's hands fly to her chest, “No, Detective. Thank you.” A wide smile breaks in her face. “Alright! A celebratory dinner is in order! I'll go run and tell Veeli.”

Wolffe shakes his head – fondly, if that isn't obvious yet, with an extra roll of his eyes. Childlike woman. With no initial intention to step into the holocall, he'd kept himself from peeking in, yet listening off-frame. Yet when the holo shifts again from the corner of his eyes, he decides to abandon his report work the boys sent him and hops off the bed.

“Where's Wolffe?” Fox asks aloud, to which Lesiil shrugs and shakes her head. The shabuir is plainly standing there next to his smart as hell girlfriend, in a t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms looking ready to sleep the night off, and a towel hanging off one shoulder, fresh from shower.

Wolffe smugly steps into the frame, crossing his arms. “What, karkhead?”

Fox mimics his gesture. “Nothing.” His scarred eyebrow, scaringly on the same side of the face as Wolffe's, rises. “You have it down bad for Nic Erlonna, huh?”

“Hm?”

“I wish I could just strangle you right now.”

“The hell are you talking about, Fox?”

The door to the bedroom slides open.

“We know how you two been playing it fak–”

“Commander Fox?”

Wolffe snaps his head up, watching how one hundred facial expressions passing across Nico's fair face spanning from shock and back again to shock as she draws nearer, and eventually gets into the holocall next to him.

“What–” she gestures between the two holo figures, “You two are together?!”

Lesiil, seemingly taking the initially serious call now has turned into a playful one, shrugs, an amused smirk gracing her lips. “Why, I thought that was obvious.”

Wolffe sighs loudly on purpose. “Don’t mind her.” He resists the urge to grab for one butt cheek. “She's a slow one.”

“Am not! I didn't know!” Nico fights back.

“You could've known.”

“Stop embarrassing me!”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“–no, cyare, they show genuine reactions towards each other now. You know, mutual comfort.”

He turns slowly to the holo.

“What?” Nico asks aloud.

Lesiil grins innocently – the sight is familiar with Wolffe. They've hung out together once or twice with the other command boys, after all. “I stated you both have a recently intriguing chemistry,” she declares.

Wolffe releases a breath, looking up to the ceiling. Dank farrik. They've caught on, have they.

“W-what do you mean?”

Force, this woman.

Fox snorts openly, abandoning his formal commander demeanor. “What, you think a master of reading nonverbal communications wouldn't pick up how you two have been faking it for months? Come on.”

“What?!” Nico exclaims, “But we sold!”

“To everyone,” Lesiil says, “But not to me and those who are like me.”

Nico huffs. “Who are you anyway?” Wolffe elbows her warningly. “...If I may ask?”

“That is a secret I will have to carry to the grave. A magician never reveals their secrets, after all.”

Does Wolffe know? No. He doesn't know. It probably won't make any difference if it's spilled anyway, and it's private. Fox seems to know. Very well.

“Yeah, but anyway, what the hell you two,” his vod says, “I bought it, until one of my men showed her and she straight up said ‘no it's fake’. At first glance!”

“You're exaggerating, cyare.”

“That's what you did, Lesii.” Fox turns to him and points an accusing finger in the holo. “Wolffe you son of a droid. You owe me an explanation, or I'm gonna tell Cody. You know how runny his karking mouth is. In exactly 10 minutes, the entire Republic army would know how fake you two were.”

A quiet laugh rumbles off his chest. Seems like we're made. With Lesiil being there as she claims, no way we're getting out of this.

“Ahahaha, oh gods,” Nico laughs awkwardly, sharing his mind, “That was such a long story.”

“Way, way back,” Wolffe agrees.

“Lay it all out,” Fox grins, glancing at Lesiil, who has the same amount of mirth and curiosity sparking in her eyes. “We've got all night.”

Taglist (Form): @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @ladylucksrogue @msmeredithrose @filamentlights @heidnspeak

A/N: I can't say thanks enough for you enjoying their journey so far! It ends here for now. Who knows there'll be next? 🫵🏼🫶🏼💓

[nemo-me-impune]

Thick of It/Ghosts crossover where Adam's evil homophobic grandfather dies and he and Fergus are going through his stuff and finds pics of the Captain but he's never heard of this man before even though they're clearly related so he does a bit of digging and decides to visit the Button House guesthouse and make Alison scream.

And then they go digging through the House because they're both pricks and don't have boundaries, and find Mike's ghost board and are like what, and meanwhile the ghosts are going nuts assuming Cap has some secret great grandchild even though Cap insists that is Literally Impossible for Unspecified Reasons.

And also at one point they realise it's the house Julian died in and Fergus is a bit creeped out about dead doppelgangers and dead politicians and weird shit that keeps happening around them while Adam thinks he's an idiot and they do the classic asshole couple in a haunted house thing.

And eventually it turns out that Adam is Cap's great nephew, and his brother never spoke of him after his death, and one of the reasons his evil grandad was so evil to him was because he's the spit of him and also attracted to men (which are the only two things they have in common lol) and his grandfather hated the fact that Cap's legacy had lived on despite everything they'd done to try and erase him from their family history.

[bravewolfvesperia]

@valiantxunion | continued

When he had gotten a report that he needed to check on someone in town, this wasn't... how he expected it to go. With a recent murder still being investigated, pretty much any possible criminal activity had people on edge, and normally the regular knights would have dealt with something on the less severe side like this... but there had been reports - multiple - that someone with Claw's likeliness was getting on the wrong side of the law. Unfortunately, nobody even seemed to know his name.

That had been... weird. Claw never knew anyone who looked even remotely like him. Everyone knew it wasn't Claw himself, but it was definitely a topic of interest. Coming face to face with him had been so... odd. The only thing similar about them was their face and hair, but those parts looked identical. All that black to his white though... It was like they were meant to be opposites in every other way.

The question as a reply to his inquiries about the man's activity caught him off guard. Was he... referring to his actual name? Claw didn't give that out to just anyone, and only very few knew the name Yuri Lowell. If it wasn't his real name this man was referring to, did he just... not know about the White Lions? But, well, he had to give some fairness to him - they really did look the same. If that was all he was referring to it was... somewhat fine, but truthfully, Claw didn't have that answer either.

At the very least, any trouble that was going to come out of this guy seemed completely wiped out. That made his job easier. He would still have to keep an eye on him just in case after that report, but he could consider that matter closed for now. If he tried to walk away with just that though, he'd probably just be followed. His whole demeaner had changed when Claw had approached him, and even if Claw had the answer he was looking for, it would probably just be followed up with other questions. Something told Claw he would not be getting back to work today...

Given their similarities, he couldn't really tell them he wasn't looking at a mirror, so that part was better off skipped. Best thing would be... to start with the basics and see how much he actually knew already if anything. "Claw of the White Lions. Technically I'm supposed to be deciding if I'm going to take you into custody for questioning, not be interrogated about my looks. I get it, but... if you're gonna be causing trouble I can't just shrug and let you off the hook for looking like me."

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

What would a Transformers Prime and Ben 10 Crossover be like?

My first thought? Cybertronian Rust Bucket. They used to be a Plumber together with grandpa Max and they are partners (just platonic or romantic???).

Rust Bucket are a former decepticon that crash landed on Earth but pretended to be a neutral fugitive so that the Plumbers wouldn't act hostile (cons ain't got the best reputation in the universe). While on Earth and in the Plumber's custody (overseen by Max) they started to realize that they no longer wanted to be a decepticon, that they had grown tired of that life. So, they joined the Plumbers and eventually became Max's partner. They never told anyone, not even Max, the truth about their decepticon past.

Ok, enough about Rust Bucket for now.

Ben unofficially has a cybertronian form (Decimus Prime) and his alt mode is a green sports car so I imagine he's just a bit taller than Bumblebee. Apparently he's got an unspecified energy melee weapon which I will assume is a sword.

Ben would get along splendidly with Smokescreen and I can see them totally egging each other on to do silly (and somewhat risky) stuff until something accidentally goes wrong.

Gwen would really look up to Ratchet and Arcee and quickly befriend Miko. While at first it might appear that she and Miko might not get along, I think their different energies might just balance each other out.

Grandpa Max and Optimus would immediately click, no doubt in my mind. He'd also probably get along with agent Fowler and Fowler in turn would rely on Max's experience with alien life.

[rosyredlipstick]

what if your next big genre crossover fic was superwholock. im sorry for even sending u this

I started to map this out as a joke and took psychic damage. anyway.

SUPERNATURAL 

it would have to be the core four but very distinct from the ghosthunters fic. actually i just decided thalias there too - thalia and jason are the tortured siblings who argue in the front seat while piper leo nico are stuffed in the tiny backseat and they save people hunt things the family business all day long. they spend hours in the car and piper and leo wont stop thumb wrestling over nicos lap and he hates his life. theres a lot of complaining about leg room and thalia regularly puts the volume on 100% just to drown out the bitching. in this au, thalia only lets nico drive the impala once, after trauma. what trauma? unspecified winchester trauma. moving on. 

will and mitchell and co are also supernatural au but start out on the outside. will happens to be the nurse who lives down the street from the roadhouse who jason calls when one of them gets banged up. and yes the stolls are thalia’s best and worst employees. yes mitchell is a waiter AGAIN. the story would be nicos pov and would lean hard into early spn, “monster of the week." there would have to be another layer here to make it fun but those would be the bones.

SHERLOCK 

this would be annabeth/percy/grover annabeth is the know it all master deductor percy is the detective and grover is the reporter. none of them are ex-military because i said so. percy and annabeth would NOT be together yet and the tension would be so so soo great. and grover would be sooo awkwardly sitting on the couch in the middle of it. a lot of jokes would be pulled from the 2009 sherlock holmes movie. i imagine they are the first to meet up with core four. for case reasons.

DOCTOR WHO 

i thought about this my entire drive home but literally ive come to the conclusion that a superwholock solangelo au would just have to have the straight up Doctor. i cant cast anyone pjo as them. i just cant. i almost wanted to do annabeth a la jodie whittaker but i never watched past peter capaldi and it would be so fake fan of me to cast her just because theyre both women. maybe i just wanted to see annabeth in the suspenders outfit. anyway its david tennet and he’s there. and oh my god it would have to be donna. it would have to be donna. they would come in at the midway point and drop lore. i imagine jason would like him a lot and nico would be deeply suspicious of everything around him. i imagine nico hates the tardis. he does not trust this blue box of lies. and the tardis knows.

anyway i imagine they all convene because of the weeping angels. it would be tagged horror but i wouldn’t consider it one, it would just rock hard for like 3 scenes. and it would somehow be like 200k and take itself way too seriously.

this is sooo ridiculous. thanks for the brainworms lmao

[jedijune]

Jedi June 2023

A creative fandom event dedicated to appreciating the Jedi, taking place during the entire month of June! Each week will feature two prompts, around which people can create fanwork (of any kind – fic, art, cosplay, edits, anything you can think of) or meta focusing on the Jedi and the Jedi Order. All eras and continuities are welcome; OCs, established characters, doesn’t matter – it just needs to be about appreciating the Jedi!

Rules:

If you are participating, please tag your work/meta with #jedi june and/or @ this blog so that I will see it and reblog it here. All work must be your own. Feel free to crosspost it off-site.

This is an appreciation event, focusing on what we love and enjoy about the Jedi – not what we don’t. This is not the place to air your grievances with the Code, take potshots at the Council, prop certain Jedi/certain eras of Jedi up at the expense of others, or disparage the Jedi Order or their philosophy (including the concept of non-attachment) and way of life in any way. You are free to do that on your own time if that’s your thing, but it has no place within this event.

AUs and crossovers are allowed, with caveats: again, the purpose of this event is to appreciate the Jedi as Jedi, so sticking your favorite Jedi characters in something like a modern AU or making them all Sith or Mandalorian is not really within the spirit of this event. However, AUs such as making a non-Jedi character a Jedi, having a character survive their canon death, giving a character a different teacher or padawan, or killing Palpatine off-screen in an unspecified yet embarrassing and painful manner, would all be perfectly fine. Use your best judgement to determine whether an AU fits the spirit of the event or not.

Ships are allowed as long as they’re not between a child and adult, and following the above rules.

Following the prompts is encouraged, but not required. Any sort of pro-Jedi content is encouraged all year month long, and if tagged (and following the rules), will be reblogged. Note that there is a change in the event this year - previously, prompts were associated with Saturday and Sunday of each week. Going forward, the prompts will be associated with the week in general, rather than the weekend specifically. As a result, we have a total of 10 prompts this year, instead of 8!

As another change, we have an AO3 collection this year!

Prompts:

Week 1 (June 1 - 4):

Prompt 1: Guidance

Prompt 2: Knighting

Week 2 (June 5 - 11):

Prompt 1: Diplomacy

Prompt 2: The Force

Week 3 (June 12 - 18):

Prompt 1: Visions

Prompt 2: Confronting Fear

Week 4 (June 19 - 25):

Prompt 1: Focus

Prompt 2: Gathering

Week 5 (June 26 - 30):

Prompt 1: Friendship

Prompt 2: Tragedy Averted

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask! I hope you will have fun participating!

Static banner credit @independence1776​​

gif banner credit @trickytricky1​​

[alpinelogy]

Fic Writer Interview

thank you for tagging me @13834. Hopefully the tag works <3

Under the cut cause I said so much help. This took like an hour?? Probably maybe even longer

How many works do you have on ao3? 16 posted as attraqtia + 6 posted on anon + 1 one I hid because I did not like it. And an extra one on my old AO3 but I'm discounting that one lmao. Also back in the day I posted on a further unspecified fanfic archive that is not AO3 (and is still around) as well as on Wattpad and ff.net but I've forgotten my username and login to all and I refuse to admit to those anyway so...

What’s your total word count? 238,447 words. Insane

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

ether strike (313 kudos)

galaxy collapse (somebody scream) (257 kudos)

home is only a town (you're just a guest) (224 kudos)

kicked out the stage lights (you’re still performing) (222 kudos)

system’s breaking down (there’s been a glitch) (214 kudos)+ because I find it funny, 6th place is shared between fill your drink with tonic gin (this is the american dream) and universum both at 187 kudos

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not? I try to (I say as if I have responded to a comment within the past several months) but I am not very good at it. Wish i could like a comment tbh, sometimes it is a idk what to say but your comment made me smile. Also I just get so much burnout I hate it here

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Uh... probably fill your drink with tonic gin (this is the american dream). Don't really write angsty endings but this is open ended so o7

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? Heckies there are several possibilities. Ignoring pwp cause I almost exclusively write established relationship so that is technically happy;

galaxy collapse (somebody scream) is a romcom that ends in loscar happy in a relationship. Happiest ending I've written. That being said

we found wonderland (you and i got lost in it) has a less happy ending but it is significantly angstier so it has a bigger range of emotions. Same goes for kicked out the stage lights (you're still performing). Putting them together cause they both have the roughly same setup of lost contact in an angsty way

same goes for now entering a world (from which you will never return) aka timeloop. Not a super happy ending but the amount of angst makes it feel more happy I think

finally maybe we got lost (in translation) and home is only a town (you're just a guest) are both getting together fics and they end in a happy get together. So adding those as well. They are not romcoms since there is plenty of drama and angst in both

Do you write crossovers? Uh... no rules (in breakable heavens) aka cycling au is a crossover right? I took guys from media A (F1) and put them into the universe of media B (cycling). Granted they are both sports that exist in the same universe but I think this should count as a crossover to me

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Nope. Thank fucking god. In all my close to a decade of writing never and I hope it stays that way

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yeah. Mostly established relationship pwp so I am pleading to AO3 to please add tenderhorny as a tag, most of my smut involves some (mild) kinks but also the established relationship part is important!!

Only single thread of gold (tied me to you) has explicit smut and is not pwp lmao. And yeah... that also has domestic fluff as a tag so who tf knows

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Nope. Or at least no that I know of

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No... technically. Me and kiro have been floating an idea of co-writing a fic earlier this year but we never got around to it. Kiro come back from the war (US education system) I wanna co-write that fic 🥺

That being said I would love to cowrite a fic one day, it always sounds so fun!! Any writing mutuals (or non writing mutuals who even just need an emotional support writer or anything else o7) hmu I would love to co-write a fic <3

What's your all-time favourite ship? All time including previous fandoms? Bokuaka from Haikyuu!!

F1 only? Probably Piarles actually. Or Loscar or Lolex, been leaning a lot towards Lolex recently Honorary cycling mention: pogrog. The ideas people post and the few fics on AO3... Please these two intrigue me so much

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? I am eternally scared I would never finish time travel George :(((. Really wanna write it, one of these days I will lock in I promise.

What I will never actually write? The original iteration of rbr!Oscar. Idk if I ever will write a version of it, I plotted the original version in August last year and my opinion of rbr has changed since then. I have replotted some of it few months bac but idk how I feel about rbr still lmao. But I am stealing a lot of the backstory for a Merc!Oscar AU so I suppose it works out :3c

Cycling AU also used to look very different. Tbh if anyones interested I'd love to yap about it, don't think it could ever work and it was the first thing I plotted but I have a soft spot for it :). Honestly I just really wanna talk about cycling AU, I have done so much worldbuilding for it and I adore it <3

More ideas from 2023 I will never finish: a Le Mans au for a further unspecified ship, several landoscar wips, several different takes on the pierresteban beef (one day I will write one. Just the ones I have rn will never make it out of the Google docs in their current state). Several different character studies of a driver I now hate so 😂😭

What are your writing strengths? Description I think. Being ESL and having a read a lot in English as a child means that my vocabulary is wide and messy and I am willing to stick three different words with the same meaning next to each other so lol and lmao

What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue. Idk how to even talk with people irl, does anyone think I can wrote a dialogue of two people?

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Idk I'm not a huge fan unless it is to make a point? Like if you speak the language then I suppose but idk, dont vibe with it

That being said non-English pet names when relevant (ie Piarles using pet names in French) is cute :)))

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Refuse to admit to it. Second one was Naruto asdfghj

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? PIERRESTEBAN. Like my second wip ever after cycling au was pierresteban. I have always had at least one pierresteban wip. I never managed to write one that I actually liked but one of these days they will be free. Lets see if I can finish my Brazil fic (also known as azincourt so if that spawns o7) or not

Also gewis. I always forget I have not written them yet lmao, time travel George truly lives rent free in my head :)))

And one of these days I will write a proper cycling fic, not an a with the F1 guys. I just... have a weird relationship with cycling rpf on account of growing up with the sport, but I respect the work yall do and I do have the cycling rpf tag opened in a tab on my phone. One of these days I will process my thoughts on it and then write a pogrog fic o7

What's your favourite fic you've written? Heck idk. Top 3 5 in no particular order:

galaxy collapse (somebody scream) - not that good cause its close to a year old but I adore the premise, I adore the vibes, I adore her so much. She is so fun and chill I think I could've done a better job on her in hindsight so she does not get to be No1 but my beloved

now entering a world (from which you will never return) - timeloop!! Probably if I had to say just one it would be her, a labor of love, I think some bits of my thesis of the fic (trust the people around you, it is okay to rely on them at times) are clumsily executed within the actual text and in hindsight there might be bits I wanna retcon but I do adore her a lot

we found wonderland (you and i got lost in it) - my dearly beloved first proper long fic. I still regularly think about the galex in this AU. Like no joke I have made up a very cheesy and idealized and probably lowk ooc future for them that I shall not yap on here about (re: the ooc bit) but honestly, if anyone wants to know it I am willing to yap in DMs o7

kicked out the stage lights (you’re still performing) - so fun to write!! wrote across like three or four sessions, feels like a very condensed version of wonderland and yes. I may or may not have thought of what happens after as well

home is only a town (you're just a guest) - I adore soulmate AUs a lot!! It was on my bucket list to write some day and I'm so glad I finally wrote it!! I vibe with the premise so much and the world building my beloved, so many bits to explore in just Alex and Logan's upbringing (bottom line consider the fact that Charles and Alex would have a fundamentally different relationship cause Charles' soulmate is also named Alex!! Just marinate on that) + honorary mention of no rules (in breakable heavens). I was (and still am lowk) working through a burnout so she is sorta ass but its cycling au. I adore cycling au. I don't think I can put it into words how much the cycling au means to me, one of these days I will write drabbles about the other guys. Bottom line George and Alex in that AU intrigue me

Sorry for the long ass yap asdfgh. Tagging uh... @landoisokay @lafaerie @weegreenbean @autumn816 @femmegeorge @racingliners and @kiroiimye if you by any chance open Tumblr in the next few days >:) come on come back to writing