#also me: triples the length from the last chapter

[greghatecrimes]

chapter three is gonna be at least 20 pages long when all’s said and done. 😵‍💫 for reference: chapter one was just over four. chapter two was seven and a half.

[insomnya777]

Hello! First I want to say I adore your boat boys super power AU so much, it’s currently rotating at light speed in my brain like a broken microwave. I think I’ve read at least six times all the way through with what you have, it’s fantastic!

I was also wondering if you had any other recs or personal favorites for boat boys fics, or just fics in general, I’m always looking for recommendations and wonderful authors usually also have great tastes in other fics as well! Thank you for what you do for the boat boy and smalletho community, you’re keeping us well fed lol

Oh my god I have many many recommendations!!!! I've actually been waiting for someone to ask me this LOL

Completed:

Settled is one of my favourites of all-time. If you read it you'll see the long ass comment I left on it lol. Description: A five plus one type of fic where Etho struggles to voice his feeling about double-life, and Joel is there to make it harder.

BIR Universe is a classic, a staple, even. One of the most iconic series of all time. Description: A very messy college universe with a bunch of hermitcraft/life series members.

Somehow, I always end up back in Marianas Trench is another personal favourite. I reread it way too often. The writing is incredible in this one + has a side of ranchers and impdubs. Description: AU where our three favourite soulbound couples go on a triple date! Except it's not a date, all of them broke up sometime before or during their last year of college and none of them are over each other.

Holy Father, judge my sins is so, so good. Anything by giddyfenix always is, I think I've read, like, all of their works. Description: Joel and Etho as the seven deadly sins. After all, what were they if not corrupted?

I Don't Smoke (Except for When I'm Missing You) made my heart break a million times over. I actually cannot read this fic without breaking down. It is a clockers-centered fic, exploring the Etho-Scar relationship, but I had to include it because it's just one of my favourite fics of all time. Description: A look into Etho's perspective on the life he and Scar share. They're not so different, you know? They both like to run away.

Works In Progress:

to all the ships at sea is another personal favourite, because the writing is just so, so good. There are currently six chapters out! Description: Etho has a job as part of the crew manning a lighthouse on a small island. With Cleo and Bdubs gone for a few weeks, Etho settles in to keep the Light running single-handedly. He wasn't expecting his life to be turned upside-down when a visitor turns up on the island, completely out of the blue...and he definitely wasn't expecting to develop feelings for the mysterious young man.

Good Luck, Babe is also very, very good. There are seven chapters out right now! Description: Etho couldn't get himself to turn Joel down. Even when Joel has made it clear time and time again that he had no problem doing the same to him. The lengths he was willing to go for a guy who would barely even let them be seen together in public...

hi, etho is super cute, too. I read it a while ago, and it's still one of my favourites, so do what you will with that. Description: About a month after going missing and having no memories to show for it, Etho gets a weird letter from a strange, anonymous sender who might have the answers to his questions.

And that's about it!! If anyone has more recommendations feel free to comment or leave in the tags because I'm always looking for more fics LOL <3

[olderthannetfic]

Those asks about the Whoopsie~ I wrote a long fic by accident!! Are hitting square in the chest lol. I honestly went through a phase that was like that though. It was almost a manic writing high where everything I wrote turned into a monster work for a year straight. I'd have a 10k one shot or maybe a 3 chapter 20k fic in mind and those would easily wind up double or even triple what I intended.

Most of which I completed. (Not all. I left the fandom late last year and wound up leaving a couple behemoths unfinished.) How I managed to complete so many of them (somewhere in the low 20s) I still don't really know but I wound up publishing around 1 Million words of fic in a year's time and became increasingly frustrated with myself because it was like a switch got flipped in my brain and I couldn't flip it back.

I had a beta reader quit on me out of "concern for my mental health" and that might've been somewhat warranted but mostly it felt like concern trolling. I was really happy most of the time to be able to write so consistently for the first time since I was a teenager and didn't have the overly critical hesitation that came with the development of an Adult Sense of Shame & Integrity. But it was a double edged sword. I didn't know the world of hurt that was coming for me.

It wasn't just my fics getting too long but my chapter lengths were frequently sitting around the 9k mark, and one of my fics had multiple 13k to 17k chapters and I gained a reputation for it. (Which became it's own problem.) Along with really fast turnaround times. I could write a lot and write quickly for the first time ever in my 20 years of writing. And it was good. Some of the best work I've ever done. That high was insane.

And then I hit the worst kind of burnout I have ever experienced after that period, around August of last year. I'm still not fully recovered. And I'm not really sure where that momentum came from or how I maintained it. I want a middle ground and have yet to acquire the skill for moderate momentum. I tend to not take fanfic too seriously because it's always been an outlet for me. Meant to be fun.

I would love to be able to figure out the happy medium but in that time period I did not. And I still haven't. My brain apparently had two modes: WRITE ALL THE WORDS. Or YES. GIVE US NOTHING, KING.

I would also really like to recover from this burnout. Woof. It's been almost a year since I hit that wall. In the time since I have written barely anything. Just a little 8k one shot that I am not that pleased with and the start of a long fic that it takes me months to get a single 4k chapter done for.

In the end, I suspect it was just a perfect storm of inspiration, free time, and a healthy Fandom that was supportive (at the time). I learned a lot in that period, too. It was one of those "Hey I'm improving!" upswings but on steroids. Not sure it was worth the cost in the end. I can barely write now.

--

Brains are weird. That's my explanation for a lot of writing-related things.

[chaotic-super]

Back To Earth - Chapter 1

This is the sequel to 'Back To Krypton'. If you haven't read that yet, the full fic is available on AO3 here!

-

“Not much longer,” Lena announces, her gaze set firmly on Earth as it grows larger. “Probably another hour or so before we meet up with the fleet.”

Kara hums, sliding off the bed to join Lena. She wraps her arm around her waist and leans into her, their heads resting softly against each other. “I’m glad Brainy decided to take this last stretch slow so we can see it like this. It’s beautiful.”

Lena snorts. “We’re hardly going slow; we’re just going slow enough to not need a seatbelt.”

Bumping her hip into Lena’s, Kara giggles. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Lena sighs. “I do.”

“It’s not usually his style to be sentimental when practicality works so much better though. I wonder why he planned this.”

Lena grimaces. She's the keeper of Brainy’s secrets and she’s already folding before Kara has even pressed for more information. “Yeah, that is...odd.” Her voice wavers the tiniest amount, but it’s enough to give her away.

Kara squints at her. “You know something. Tell me.”

Holding her hands up, Lena makes a futile attempt at getting Kara to drop it. “It’s Brainy’s business.”

“And yours too, since you’re keeping secrets for him. Spill.”

Lena shakes her head, trying to figure out the best way to lay this out without upsetting Kara. “There are a few reasons he decided to slow us down. The main one is that he’s been away from Nia for a long time and he wants to woo her a little. He also wants to check over our device one last time. We’ve both triple-checked it to make sure it’ll do the job we need it for, but since it’s made from the schematics of multiple devices, he’s nervous.”

Kara’s eyes narrow when she stops talking. “And the third reason?”

“He’s worried about you. We all are. You’ve been through a hell of a lot, so we thought that you might appreciate a slow return to Earth. Some time to wrap your head around things before we’re officially back on home turf.”

“So it wasn’t Brainy’s idea. It was yours.” Kara doesn’t sound mad. If anything, she just sounds defeated. “I’m ok, Lena.”

Lena faces her fully, the light reflecting from Earth shining on them both, the planet they’ve sworn to protect watching over them in this vulnerable moment. “I know, but you don’t have to be.”

“I can’t. Not until we’ve stopped Lex.”

“If our plan goes smoothly, the device will be activated as soon as we’re through Earth’s atmosphere. Lex won’t see it coming and everything will be fine. You can breathe, Kara. We both can. We can live.”

Kara sinks into Lena’s arms, her head turned so she can look out over Earth. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It is, and it isn’t,” Lena says, her voice soft, barely more than a whisper. “There’s so much hatred down there, but from up here, it’s nothing but beauty. This is how I think you look at people. You see the good even when they’re capable of such horrors. I love that about you, and I wish I could do the same. You see the best part of people rather than judging and mistrusting them for something they may never do.”

“Your way is smarter.”

“Your way is kinder.” Lena rebuts. “I like to think we balance each other out pretty well.”

“I know we do.”

There’s a knock at the door a second before it slides open, but neither woman turns to look to see who it is.

“God, seeing you two stare at each other like that is worse than walking in on you doing…things.” Alex’s voice is coated in a thick layer of disgust. “Anyway, we’re going to strap in and take the last part faster so Lex doesn’t notice another ship joining the fleet. We’re going to stop by J’onn’s ship first to let him know the good news before we make the last stretch back home.”

Lena traces her fingertips down the length of Kara’s arm before finally looking at Alex. “Sounds good. We’ll be there in just a minute.”

Alex nods, her eyes now fixed on her sister, who is avoiding eye contact with her. “Are you ok, Kara?”

“Yeah, I will be.” She musters up a smile, looking between Alex and Lena. “I have a lot of emotions going on, but I’ll be just fine.”

“Good.” Alex’s face softens. “You will be. We’ll all be with you while you get there.”

“I know.”

There’s a brief moment of softness between the sisters before Alex ducks out of the room, leaving Kara and Lena in their little bubble of peace.

Lena rests her forehead against Kara’s for a second before brushing her nose against hers. “We’ve got to figure out how to explain to everyone on Earth that we went back in time and fell in love.”

“I’d argue that we were already in love.” Kara grins before pressing her lips firmly against Lena’s.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I think everyone will be happy for us.”

“Me too.”

They cling to their moment of serenity for a couple more minutes before they regretfully pull away from each other to go and join the others. They’re all waiting for them, strapped into their seats and ready to go when they walk in. They roll their eyes at their team when they cheer at them sarcastically.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Brainy announces. “Hold on, everyone.”

They prepare themselves and close their eyes for the quick blast of speed that sends them shooting through the universe, only slowing as they approach the back of the fleet, manoeuvring through the ships to slide in right beside J’onn’s ship.

“J’onn. Can you hear me?” Brainy speaks aloud, trying to contact J’onn’s ship.

“Loud and clear. How are you all?”

“Tired,” Kara calls out, “and ready to get home.”

“I bet.” J’onn chuckles. “Did you get what you need?”

“We sure did. We’re going to land and activate the device as we pass through the atmosphere. We’ll signal to you when it’s safe for you to bring the fleet down.”

There’s the faint sound of applause from the background of J’onn’s ship. “Good work, team. I’ll see you down there soon enough.”

“We look forward to it,” Brainy says, and Nia leans forward just a touch so she can get a better look at the grin spread across his face. She’s missed him and his dorkiness, and she just can’t get enough of it now that they’re back together again.

Brainy preps the ship for atmospheric entry and then gives everyone a brief warning before he starts their descent, his fingers poised on the switch to their new device so he can flip it on as soon as they’re close enough to the ground to do so.

The moment the device turns on is a little anticlimactic. All it does is light up a little. Nothing else is meant to happen; that’s the point. No exploding ships, just a pretty little blinking light and peace.

“All systems confirm that the device is working and it has deactivated Lex’s weapon,” Lena says, her eyes pinned on the control panel in front of her. “Mission accomplished.”

“Mission accomplished,” Kara whispers to herself with a tiny smile, one that is both genuine and not. She’s thrilled that all of their hard work has paid off. She just wishes that she didn’t lose so much in doing so.

The ship levels off as they come to land in front of the Tower and Kara takes that as enough permission to take off her seatbelt to look at her family. She might have lost one family on Krypton, but she’s gained a whole new one. One that understands her so much more thanks to this mission. That’s something she’ll hold dear for the rest of her life.

“So, I’m thinking pizza.” She announces to the room. “It’s been far too long since we’ve had pizza.”

“And Chinese.” Alex pipes up. “We need potstickers too, and you’re going to share them.” She points an accusing finger at her sister.

“We better order extra then. I want at least a dozen to myself.”

“I’ll get you some, darling.” Lena appears at her side. “I’ll also be getting myself some because listening to you ramble on about them for months has had me craving them like crazy.”

Kara shrugs. “I’m not sorry.”

“That’s not surprising.”

Squinting at Lena playfully, Kara scoffs. “What’s that meant to mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lena plays into it.

“I think I found something to worry about.” Brainy joins in the conversation, his tone clipped.

They all huddle around the control panel where Brainy is working, their eyes peering at his fast-moving fingers before darting to the device as he keeps pressing switches on the side of it.

Lena’s eyebrows furrow as she figures out what’s happening. “Oh, I see.”

“I don’t. Mind filling us in?” Nia questions, her hands resting loosely on Brainy’s shoulders.

Kara figures it out next, quickly followed by Alex.

“Lex is trying to set off the machine now.” Kara starts.

“And every time he does that, the machine is stopping him, but it has to be reset each time it works or else Lex can still make the fleet self-destruct.” Alex finishes. “We need to tell J’onn to keep the fleet where it is until we figure out how to make the device reset itself. If we can’t do that, someone will have to keep resetting it manually each time it goes off until we can stop Lex for good and destroy his device.”

Everyone’s shoulders drop. They might have won the battle, but the war isn’t over. Not while Lex can still try to set off his device.

“Do you think he’ll figure out that we’re stopping him manually, or will he give up?” Kelly asks, her hands twisting in front of her.

Lena struggles to swallow past the growing lump in her throat. “I’d guess that he’ll rage for a while first, and then he’ll look into it to see what’s happening. It’s only a matter of time before he realizes that we have to stop each attempt and tries to use that to his advantage. That or he’ll try to find a way around it.”

“He won’t be able to do that. There’s less than nought point three percent chance that he will find a way.”

Kara’s completely lost her smile. “So we just keep manually stopping him for now?”

Brainy nods solemnly. “Yes. For now, that’s all we can do.”

Kara sighs, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose tightly. “Rao, it never ends.”

Lena’s hand rests on her forearm, gently urging Kara to take her hand away from her face. “Hey, it will. We just have a couple of extra steps. We’re all good though. We can take shifts with the device, which we should probably name so we don’t have to keep calling it ‘the device’, and once we’ve figured out how to spruce it up and make it so it resets itself, we’ll all be peachy.”

Kara stares deeply into emerald eyes. “Since when do you use the word ‘peachy’?”

“Since I started dating a dork.” Lena deadpans. “Now, how about we get off this ship and into the Tower?”

Kara nods but then falters. “Hold on, we have to call J’onn.”

“He’s not going to be thrilled by the news,” Alex adds.

“No, he’s not.” Kelly bumps Esme up onto her hip more firmly, having just lifted her up. “But he needs to know.”

Lena leans over to call J’onn back and they all wait impatiently for him to respond.

“Have you arrived down there safely?”

Alex clears her throat, opting to be the one to tell him the bad news. “Yes, we have, but there is something you need to know.”

“Nothing good ever followed those words.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Alex shuffles her feet as she starts explaining. “The device works and stops Lex from causing all the alien ships to self-destruct. However, we have to manually reset it each time he makes an attempt, so it might be best to keep the fleet off Earth until we have managed to make it repeat its defensive actions without there being room for human error.”

They can practically hear J’onn’s teeth grinding as he processes. “I think a lot less people will be willing to stay up here. There are still a lot of aliens that stayed on Earth anyway, but telling the ones that did leave to stay up here for longer than they already have just won’t work. I can ask, but I will not take away their right to make an informed choice. We will monitor the device in pairs to ensure there will be no errors. We can take shifts.”

“J’onn, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Kara asks.

“No, but we can’t keep these people in limbo indefinitely, and we don’t have the resources to stop them from going anywhere.”

“Ok. Do you want us to tell them?”

“No, you’ve done plenty. This is my burden to carry. I’ll meet you down there soon.”

The call ends with a click, and the whole group just deflates. “I guess we better get inside, then.” Kelly ushers them to the door.

“Nia and I will remain for a little longer to stabilize the device for transit into the Tower.” Briany declares, waving them off, his eyes fixed diligently on the control panel to monitor any need to reset the device once again.

Lena takes Kara’s hand as they walk ahead of Alex, Kelly and Esme. “I’m going to order a boatload of food and have a nice hot shower, then I’m going to put on the softest clothes I own and sleep forever.”

“Rao, that sounds so good.” Kara has to resist moaning at the thought. “I bet we can convince someone else to take the first shift with the device.”

Lena smirks at her devilishly. “I bet we can.”

They pass the H’Rakas, both of them sleeping soundly in the cargo bay. “I can’t wait to see these guys out in the open again. I think they’ve kind of restless being stuck in here.”

“Yeah. We’ll get them out of here as soon as possible.” Lena agrees.

The door opens, and Kara basks in the immediate power surge she gets from being beneath Sol’s rays once again. It’ll take a while for her powers to come back fully, most likely a couple of days, but she already feels stronger.

“Welcome home.” She grips Lena’s hand tighter, taking her first step out of the ship and officially onto Earth.

She crumples.

Lena’s hand is dropped as she falls to her knees, her hands grasping at her head as she cries out in pain.

“Kara?” Lena falls to her side, her hands desperately cupping her face to try and get her attention. “What’s happening? What hurts?”

Kara can’t answer. All she can focus on is the acute pain in her head.

“Kara?” Lena keeps trying to get her to look at her, but with her eyes shut so firmly and her pain drowning out the sound of everything happening around her, Kara is oblivious.

Kelly rushes past them with Esme, the little girl peering over her mom’s shoulder with wide, terrified eyes. She has no idea what’s happening but it’s clear that it’s not good.

Alex and Lena sit on either side of Kara, flipping her onto her back so she’s leaning against Alex, nestled in her sister’s embrace, while they try to figure out what’s happening.

“You’re going to be ok,” Alex whispers to her, her face the epitome of terror because she knows that whatever has caused this, she can’t stop.

Kara’s in a world of her own, her brain on overload as she’s hit by memory after memory that she never lived. Her past is being rewritten, merging with her true memories to create a messy collage of old truths and new truths she can barely differentiate.

It’s all moving so fast that she can’t keep up. All she can do is try not to focus on the stabbing pain in her head and the overload of information hitting her as she’s dragged along for the ride. She can’t stop it; she must simply endure.

It slows eventually, but not before Nia and Brainy come stumbling out of the ship to find them on the floor.

“Oh no, that’s not good,” Brainy says, understanding exactly what is happening. “Her past is changing. I should have accounted for this.”

“What do you mean?” Lena presses for answers. “Why now? We left Krypton days ago.”

“Her return to Earth solidified the timeline. As soon as she stepped foot out of the protection of the time ship, she was exposed to the changes. She’ll be in pain for a while, but it’ll pass.”

Brainy’s relaxed demeanour calms both Alex and Lena, but Alex isn’t completely satisfied. “How long will she be like this?”

He shrugs, careful not to lose track of the device in Nia’s arms as they await a possible need to reset it. “That depends on how much has changed for her. Given her pain threshold and her current reaction, I’d say that some fundamental parts of her life have changed, and that’s something we shall have to thoroughly review when she’s recovered.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Lena asks, her hands clutching at Kara’s, keeping her from digging her nails into her scalp as she tries to overcome the immense pain she’s in.

“We wait it out.” Brainy is no happier saying it than Alex and Lena are hearing it.

Kara’s eyes fly open. The pain is still strong, but it dipped suddenly enough for her to regain some of her senses.

She focuses on the balcony, but she doesn’t see the present. She’s seeing ghosts of memories walking and standing and drinking and hugging, each one overlapping and merging, each false but true. They weren’t, but now they are.

“Kara? Can you hear me?” Lena tries.

The memories fade away until one remains. A kiss on Earth that never happened, one right before they climb aboard the Legion ship with bags that got carried across Krypton. Then, that fades too, taking the pain with it.

“Holy fuck.”

“Kara?” Lena’s eyes glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m ok.” She stumbles over the words but leans up without assistance, proving her statement to be at least somewhat true.

Both Alex and Lena are quick to wrap their arms around her waist to support her weight as she stands, and then they start directing her inside slowly, conscious of keeping their assistance light but stabilizing.

“Let’s get you to a chair,” Alex says, mostly to herself. “You need to sit down.”

“I really am alright. I promise.”

Lena scoffs. “With all due respect, you were just wiped out by some pretty severe pain brought on by your timeline being rewritten, so pardon us if we don’t take your word for it.”

Kara gives in. She can’t argue with that. “That’s fair.”

The pair lower Kara into the nearest chair, their worry and uneasiness evident to everyone who bothers to look. Kara, for the most part, seems to be ok. She’s managed to steady herself again and is now just trying to piece together the memories she lived compared to the memories she gained just a few seconds ago.

“Are you sure you’re feeling ok?” Lena asks, tenderly tucking a wayward lock of blonde hair back behind her ear.

Kara nods slowly. “Yeah, I’m just trying to make sense of things.”

“Brainy?” Alex waves at him to get his attention, leaving Nia to watch the device, the fate of every alien who owns a ship lying in her hands.

“Alex.” He replies.

“Why aren’t we having the same reaction as Kara? Surely a change in her timeline means that there will also be a change in ours.”

Brainy hums and tucks his arms behind his back, his spine straightening. “While that is true, Kara has had a massive shift in her timeline and the change in events leading up to and following the destruction of Krypton will have a much stronger effect on her than any change in events for you. You are correct though. You will experience a few changes; how many is unknown at this time, so you’re likely to experience the merging of memories in one of two ways.”

“Which are?” Alex tries not to sound nervous.

“Either you will gain them when your mind rests, or you will gain them slowly as the days pass, perhaps partnered with a headache or a migraine, depending on the severity of the changes. Kara’s happened so quickly because of her direct impact on the changes and the confirmation of those changes happening when she stepped off the ship.”

“So we’ll either wake up with them or have a headache and get them?” Alex confirms.

“Precisely.”

“Well, that’s just swell.” Lena drones out. “Hey, Kara?”

“Hmm,” Kara hums, leaning her head into Lena’s side as the brunette perches on the arm of the chair she’s sitting in.

Lena wraps her arm around Kara, her fingernails brushing up and down her arm soothingly. “Are there any changes we need to be aware of?"

Kara shrugs helplessly. “I’m still sort of trying to piece together what’s what. I feel like I’ve just watched fifty movies at once, and I’m trying to figure out whether Cindy Lou Who is meant to be in ‘The Grinch’ or ‘Jaws’.”

“That’s...ok.” Lena doesn’t fully understand what that means, but she figures that it’s best to leave it well enough alone for now.

“We kissed though.”

“I’m well aware, darling.”

Kara shakes her head, looking up at the underside of Lena’s jaw. “No, we kissed before Krypton. I saw it.”

Lena’s eyes widen. “We were in a relationship on Earth?”

“Not really. We kissed right before getting on the ship to go on the mission. Rather, you kissed me.”

“Makes sense; you wouldn’t have the balls.” Lena smiles.

Kara’s mouth drops open. “Rude! I was just informing you of the details of our first kiss and you decide to bully me in return.”

“I wouldn’t call it bullying.”

“Oh?”

“Of course not.” Lena leans down to press a kiss to the top of Kara’s head. “I was just telling the truth.”

All Kara can do is roll her eyes at her. “Sure, sure.”

Lena chuckles into Kara’s hair. “If we kissed before we left for Krypton, does that mean that our actions on Krypton changed and, therefore, the future we changed has been changed again?”

“No.” Brainy answers. What happened on Krypton has become a fixed point in time. It’s hard to explain but because you changed a fixed point in time to begin with, it’s like you mixed the pieces of two jigsaw puzzles together. Even if all the pieces fit and lock together smoothly, the picture may never look perfect.”

“So our past is now a little jumbled but our future should be fine, just a little different than we anticipated?” Kara asks.

“Exactly.” Brainy points at the pair. “This is why I told you to limit interactions with people there. You can cause a real mess, just like this one.”

Kara grimaces as she thinks about all of the people she talked to and the lives she may have changed because of her actions. “Yeah, we did  talk to quite a lot of people.”

“You beat one up.” Lena snorts.

Brainy sinks his head into his hands. “That doesn’t shock me. Kara, we don’t know the full extent of the damage yet, but it’s not looking good.”

“I know.” Kara leans back and closes her eyes, her brain flicking through all of the people’s lives she knows she definitely affected in some way, whether it be in big or small ways, it all matters. She keeps getting stuck on one person though. Someone who she now has new memories of.

Astra.

They were never on the rooftop.

Astra didn’t die on the rooftop.

Astra didn’t die.

“Oh...” Kara breathes. “Oh no.”

“What?” Alex turns to her, dread building up inside of her.

“Um, I might know what one of the changes happens to be.”

That catches everyone’s attention. Everyone except Nia focuses on her, their eyes scanning her face for any hint of a clue as to how bad this is going to be.

Alex squeezes Kara’s hand. “What is it?”

“It’s Astra.”

Alex freezes, the memory of Astra dying in Kara’s arms haunting her as it so often does, not that she often tells anyone that. There’s something different about this recollection though. It’s foggier than usual and a little frayed at the edges.

“She’s alive.” Kara finishes.

Alex’s mouth opens and closes, words sitting on the tip of her tongue but none strong enough to pass her lips. Eventually, she manages to stutter one out. “How?”

Pressing her lips together and rubbing her hands over her thighs, Kara thinks, trying to uncover more pieces to the puzzle. “I’m not totally sure. Something about her not believing in the cause anymore. She disagreed with Non and…” She pauses, hit with a surprising amount of clarity. “She killed Non to protect us. She saved Earth and lived here peacefully with us ever since.”

Kara can’t help it. She knows a massive change in the timeline like this shouldn’t be celebrated. It shouldn’t even be acknowledged really, just something to be dealt with, but this is a good thing. It’s a brilliant thing. Her aunt is alive.

“My aunt is alive.” Kara grins. “She’s alive.”

“Please tell me you’re just randomly celebrating the fact I’ve somehow managed to keep all of us alive as long as I have and not that your aunt Lara is somehow miraculously alive too. She was always a pompous bitch.”

Kara’s head whips around to see Astra leaning up against the doorframe, a startled Kelly at her side and Esme perched on her hip.

“Aunt Astra, you’re really here.” Kara’s voice is filled with wonder. She pushes herself up and walks over to her, stopping just shy of her, too afraid to actually touch her, too scared that this is nothing more than her confused, traumatized mind playing tricks on her.

Astra’s eyebrows pinch together before she hands Esme off to Kelly and closes the gap between them to press the back of her hand to Kara’s forehead. “Kara, are you ill?”

Kara shakes her head. “No. I’m just…” She gives up on trying to formulate words. Instead, she leans into her aunt’s touch before dragging her into a tight hug, her hands clutching at the back of Astra’s shirt so tightly it would rip if her powers had returned.

Everyone appears to be frozen in place as they stare at the scene and Astra catches on to the fact that she’s missing some pretty crucial information very quickly. “So, what have I missed?”

“What do you know?” Kelly probes.

Astra pulls out of the hug but lets her hands trail down Kara’s arms until she finds her hands, holding them securely in hers with no plans on dropping them until she has to. “That you’ve just come back from a mission to Krypton, and I now have the world’s biggest migraine, but this hug is definitely doing wonders to help it. I was hoping Alex would check me over though. I don’t usually get migraines due to my biology, as I’m sure you understand.”  

Brainy sighs, getting ready to recount the same information he already gave everyone when he should be helping Nia monitor the device. Lena saves him though. “I got it, Brainy.”

“Thank you, Lena.”

“You got it.”

Astra looks at Lena expectantly. “So?”

“So, you have a migraine because your timeline is changing in a pretty major way. You’ll be able to remember everything soon.”

“Do you know what the changes are?”

Lena hesitates but nods. “I do.”

“You don’t want to tell me.” Astra gathers from the way Lena’s arms are folded tightly over her chest, and one foot is facing out as though she’s ready to run at a moment’s notice. “Is it really that bad?”

Kara blurts out the truth before Lena can find a tactful way of delivering the news. “You were dead.”

“What?”

“You were dead.”

For early access to the lastest chapters of all my fics and Patreon-only content, take a peek over here!

[quinndominion]

Quinn Rambles (but any advice welcome)

Bonus pic cuz I always feel weird posting just text to tumblr. That's a real sim out there amidst the hood deco. Cookies for anyone who can tell who it is!

Okey-dokey. So, I rambled this ramble a week ago and deleted it, since in the process I came full circle. I still expect to end up here, where I am, but...I'm going to write it out anyway. Again.

What's the hold up? Well, I am still pruning pics for one single scene! (Day at the Lands') There are enough there to be its own full chapter, which i think I may have done on purpose (?) since I clearly went back to it. I mean, I know what I wrote so I'm glad I found the pictures, but they weren't even in the same freakin' folder! (That comes from actively triple booting a few years ago between Win7, Win10, and Linux - they're all pointed at the same game files but the screenshots are saved wherever and I'd forgotten about that at first.) And with a backstory, unlike gameplay, I can't whittle it down to 10-15% of the zillion pics I took and still tell the same story. They're all pretty damn deliberate, with only 1 or 2 alternative perspective shots, so I've only shaved off about 50% and who's going to read all that? Especially sandwiched in with the rest. But then who apart from Peni was going to read it anyway and I don't think she minds the length (?) But I have noticed a few more old friends still around so who knows, who knows.

I still fully intend to post the Starrywood thing as one thing (lol), for myself at least, because it is one day. But I was also going to break it up to be more palatable and manageable to anyone who's not me and maybe pop those sliced up posts on my backup Wordpress or something or maybe even...LJ (yikes!) Not tumblr, that's just too much work. I see they've raised the pic limit and all but tumblr is for montages and minisodes only. However, R.E.S.P.E.C.T. is not as big as all that. Though it is more immediately significant to the story as told thus far and there's the crux of my indecision...

So...there are 3-5 major scenes, depending on whether I tally by length or significance. I expected it to be a three act deal. Like, the first covers three days, the next about three weeks, and the last about three months. Conceptually, I like that. Textually, I like that. But the party scene pictures might give me the same amount of trouble as Day at the Lands'. And I just don't want to subdivide any more than that. It would obviously make things easier, but less...I don't know, I've lost my word, but anyway, just don't wanna do it.

Since it can be it's own thing and it's all written and my personal 'let's see if we can actually still do this' deadline has already come and gone, I've been hemming and hawing about just posting it by itself. A peek into the past rather than a full-on gaze backward. It's a familiar cast, it's fun as hell (I think), and it's long as a thoroughgoing slice of Land life but not plot revealing, so...maybe? It's Day Two in that Act One setup (Day One, basically, is the plot. So, no on that one though it's also ready to go.) But it is the anchor scene and if I throw it out there now what's the point of anyone reading it again, in full, in situ, in context?

(Oh, here's where I should probably say that in reality, two or three readers max, but I still think in terms of ideal reader and ideal presentation. Otherwise what's the point? It's a sim story, yes, and I give myself great latitude with that, but if there's someone out there who actually likes it I want to give them the real story, not a compromise. Also, while I am not my ideal reader, no, I am my primary reader, so I myself actually want the story itself and not an approximation. And then, as a general rule, I like to present a layered story that can be approached and appreciated at whatever level any given reader engages. At the level of having zero background knowledge or interest in following along and still having a laugh if you stumble across it. At the level of catching some or most or all of the little details and callbacks and suspected foreshadowing and feeling fully immersed in this little bit of nonsense that we're all playing with. At the level of actually reading this post and knowing wtf I'm on about, lol.)

If I excerpt it out, I probably would remove most of the fun stuff and just do a tumblr montage and...that is not the task I set for myself. Finish and post a chapter of Something. That is the task.

As I'm going along, however, I keep remembering why I set it aside. I said it didn't matter because there is no such thing as 'here' anymore after such a long absence...but it really does not go here. In the timeline such as it is. So I thought, well, if I (finally) unlock the Contrajocques chapters that's enough context. Will eliminate any need to revisit the Garden Party chapter because it covers the same ground, enough to lay out the parallels to the party scene from Act Two that I mentioned. Along with some other things. And if I pace them out a bit it'd give me enough time to link the pics and post Act One, prune Act Two, and maybe write a damn ending and finish shooting Act Three. (Or maybe not.) (And actually much of the hold up there is that I'm 95-99% sure I did sketch out an ending and I can't find it!)

But then I reread the Contrajocques chapters and the reason they weren't posted is because too much is revealed that the Desiderata minisodes were meant to set up. Most of those are ready to go. In drafts here on tumblr so I thought, eh, go ahead. Buy even more time! But the reason they're not posted is because the whole For Always Roaming detour is actually connected in a weird way. Can be overlooked and sidelined to get on with it, but to do so kind of invalidates that whole side story. What's the incentive to get back to it then and where on earth would I randomly stick it? (Also, there's not a Hart to be found in R.E.S.P.E.C.T. They're not in Widespot yet and, frankly, Val got his own freakin' spinoff show, so as he/we said, it was time to get the hell off the stage. For a bit.) And what's the hold up with all of this...yup, of course, it's the Starrywood saga. That nobody asked for and is tangential to the BaCC at best, but it lays some foundations that will be built on in that still open round of the BaCC and beyond. And it's just too big for me to take on right now. Ugh.

So I keep ending up back where I started. Finish and post the thing you said you were going to post and silently stick it where it really goes when you and the story finally catch up to it. And ignore the fact that some of the callbacks are to things that have not yet been shown.

...I guess.

[kyndaris]

Heal the World

Despite being nominated for several categories at the 2023 The Game Awards, Spider-Man 2 did not manage to win any of the prestigious trophies. A fact that has been both lambasted and poked fun of on the internet. But when you consider the sheer quantity, as well as the quality, of games that came out, the fact Spider-Man 2 was even nominated is proof of its greatness. Especially when it was going up against heavy-weights Baldur's Gate 3, Alan Wake 2, Final Fantasy XVI, Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom and Super Mario Bros: Wonder.

2023, it should be noted, was a game of big releases.

Following on from several strategy role-playing games I was stuck playing, it was only in the latter half of the year I was able to play catch-up on many of the triple-A titles. Even now, though, I have yet to tackle Final Fantasy XVI, Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, Baldur's Gate 3 and Alan Wake 2.

To be fair, I've bought all the titles. They are, unfortunately, just sitting around waiting for me to devote the necessary time to make the adventure worthwhile.

Once I do, of course, be sure to see posts pop up throughout the year. Even as I try to balance work, my writing hobbies, the books I read, shows I watch (at time of writing, I've gotten into Blue Eye Samurai), and whatever travel I also have planned. In fact, I should hopefully be publishing the sequel to Wild Child soon. After pounding out the chapters during a period where everything has gone back to normal, taking the time out to write a full-length novel is very time-consuming. Not to mention the editing I'm doing (which would probably be better if I had an actual editor and at least one beta reader) to polish up a few things.

In any case, the story of my journey with Spider-Man 2 began not when I popped the disc into my PlayStation 5. Nay, the story begins with the day I purchased the game at a store in the heart of Sydney CBD. I was catching up with a high school friend and had just seen a Facebook post about an exhibit in Barangaroo. After dinner, off we trotted - after much convincing on my part that a walk down to Barangaroo would be for the best - to take in the flipped truck suspended by spider webs and New York policemen milling about telling everyone within earshot that, "There was nothing to see here." The trip, capped off with a photo of the truck, was made memorable when I muttered under my breath how the hired actors were pretending to be NPCs. Only, of course, to be remonstrated by my friend for saying such a thing.

And honestly, it it is true that I shouldn't be calling the people I see only in passing as NPCs. After all, in their own mind, they're the main character and I'm the NPC lurking in the background of their story. Which only serves to drive home the disconnection we have with the people around us or who might share the daily commute with us.

Still, what a thing to say to dismiss another person.

I'm reminded of a scene in the book Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin, which my workplace bookclub read, where Sam called his best friend, Max, an NPC right to his face. I know Max didn't take it to heart but what a cruel and heartless thing to say to someone who has supported you throughout your game developing journey and is then ruthlessly gunned down on the pretense he was you by angry gamers.

Anyways, back to Spider-Man 2. The game follows on from Spider-Man and Spider-Man: Miles Morales. Ten months on from the last game, we see Peter Parker and Miles Morales working together to keep New York safe. And though the Avengers seem to exist in the world - what with Avenger Tower jutting up above the New York skyline - we never see these other superheroes once during the struggles Peter and Miles face. Nor do we see cameos from the likes of Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Iron Fist or Luke Cage.

Which is such a shame.

But it also highlights the problem of having so many comic-book superheroes call New York home.

Spider-Man 2 starts with Peter taking on a job as a physics teacher at Brooklyn Visions, the school Miles attends. As he's teaching them about surface tension, Sandman attacks. Torn between his responsibilities as civilian Peter and that of Spider-Man, Peter joins up with Miles to take down Flint Marko in an epic showdown that saves the city. Unfortunately, due to dereliction of duty as a teacher, Peter is fired. A side-effect of being a superhero who keeps his identity hidden (although given how often his friends have since said his name during the game, I'm surprised it's still a secret).

From there, the game introduces us to Kraven, a man who seeks his death in glorious combat with a mighty opponent. As such, he captures Mister Negative and Scorpion while the two were being transported from the Raft. He even administers a high dose of Lizard serum into Dr Curt Connors to face up against a worthwhile opponent.

It is only when Peter acquires the symbiote that excitement enters Kraven's eyes. In the latter chapters, he fights against Peter and demands that our erstwhile hero stop holding back even showing off a battered Miles. Before Peter can kill him, Miles intervenes and Peter is then freed from the symbiote's control.

Of course, Spider-Man 2 is not content to have Kraven as the big bad for this game. Oh no.

As many know, once you've introduced the symbiote, you've also introduced Venom. But instead of Eddie Brock taking on the mantle of our favourite anti-hero, it is instead Harry Osborn.

Though Harry was only mentioned briefly in the first game, in Spider-Man 2, Harry returns from a long sabbatical in Europe and supposedly cured from his terminal illness. Harry is introduced early, hiring Peter to work at his environmental technology startup called the Emily-May foundation where the pair can pursue their childhood dream of "healing the world." Unfortunately, during the events of Spider-Man 2, with Peter taking on the symbiote, Harry's health - both physical and mental - deteriorates. Desperate to return to a semblance of normality, Harry reclaims the symbiote and is then transformed into the Venom we all know and love.

He is later stopped by the combined efforts of Miles, Peter and MJ. The final battle leaves Harry comatose and our heroes shattered once again by the sacrifices they had to make in order to save the city they call home.

What I liked most about Spider-Man 2, however, as a criminology major in university, was its focus on rehabilitation. Many of the supervillains that Spider-Man fans have come to know and love have been reformed in some way or another. Be that Tombstone to Mysterio. Many of these villains have chosen to turn over a new leaf and assimilate back into society. The most tragic and most human is the story of Sandman. Threatened by Kraven's hunters, fearing for his daughter and not being heard by those in power, he resorts to the only thing he knows in order to garner attention: attacking the city.

It is a tale as old as time.

And helps support the tenets of strain theory in crime sociology.

Of course, there are a myriad reasons why people turn to crime.

But these glimpses are so important to understand the complexities of why someone might resort to doing something illegal. And it's a far better exploration of redemption than what Spider-Man: No Way Home attempted. As I've stated before, change takes time. While No Way Home plucked our villains during their final showdown with the various Spider-Man across the multiverse, Spider-Man 2 shows the results of Mysterio and Sandman having served their time and seeking to mend their ways.

This all culminates in the interactions with Mister Negative and Miles Morales. And while Miles cannot bring himself to forgive what Mister Negative did, he is able to move past the anger.

The other message in Spider-Man 2, of course, is that some burdens cannot be taken on alone. The tagline for the game is: 'Be Greater. Together.' Something I wish more people would take to heart. When a community comes together, there is so much more that can be done. Unfortunately, the Western world prefers to champion individualistic effort over those of a collective.

Capitalism seems to forget that if you don't have your workers or people who can afford to purchase your goods, then what's the whole point? And if you're curious where this odd segue came from, I'm currently playing through Octopath Traveler 2 and Partitio's story is very much of a big-hearted merchant who looks out for his town. His dream, funnily enough, is to destroy the devil known as poverty. Something our modern world still has not been able to solve (but could. If there was any profit to it. But who are we kidding? There isn't.)

From a combat perspective, Spider-Man 2 changes things up a little by introducing a parry mechanism as well as a few other new abilities for the Spider-Men to enjoy. While this kept the game lively, it annoyed me that I needed a full Focus bar in order to heal. This was especially difficult in the latter boss battles against Scream and Venom. I'm not sure if the reason why I struggled through them was because I hadn't topped up my Focus bars prior to the mission or if it was simply me not gelling with Peter's abilities.

What I do know was that I hated how the attack you couldn't dodge, but had to parry, was highlighted in red and that the unblockable attack was blue. Especially when the game had trained you early on with managing a perfect dodge when the spider sense was red. It also didn't help that in the battles with Scream and Venom, these indicators didn't last for very long and I couldn't cancel an animation if I was already mid-dodge to parry an attack.

At least the checkpointing was generous!

As for other gameplay moments, I had to say the swinging was smooth as butter and the web wings added some great diversity to travel. Especially with the wind tunnels all around the city to help one get from Point A to Point B.

And because of these quality-of-life improvements, I didn't feel like the new map, which now included Queens and Brooklyn, was that much larger than the original Spider-Man game or as time-consuming to get through like a map in the open-world Assassin's Creed titles.

So, while Spider-Man 2 didn't win at The Game Awards, it certainly won my heart as the second last game I played in the year 2023. And I'm certainly excited to see what Insomniac cooks up next, despite the hack. The studio is great at nailing story, gameplay and world while serving up side-dishes of heart. Best of all, it didn't have me chasing after pigeons!

In a year teeming with big titles, Spider-Man 2 was everything I wanted in an open-world game without overstaying its welcome.

Thank you Insomniac and here's hoping Spider-Man 3 brings on the Green Goblin in all his glory! Oh, and Silk. I'm curious to how they'll insert that comic storyline into the game.

[willalove75]

Hi, I am a big fan of your work and you are part of the reason why I started writing my own story. I wanted to know since you’ve been writing a lot longer than I have how do you advise I deal with discouragement? I recently posted a chapter and lost a few subscribers and public bookmarks. I don’t think my chapter was badly written and I even had a few of my friends edit for me. My story and the recent chapter also doesn’t have any problematic themes either. I understand not everyone stick with a series to the end but I really wish they knew how much it has an impact on writers and their confidence. So I guess I am asking how should I deal with this and not let it keep me from writing? I just wonder if other authors feel this way and if readers only click on stories with a high number of bookmarks?

Hi!! Thank you SO MUCH!!! I'm so honored that I was part of the reason why you started writing your own story🥺💕

Discouragement is one of those tricky things that buries itself wayyyy deeper in your head that it should. It's like a worm.

It's absolutely okay to feel discouraged when you see that you loose subscribers and bookmarks! Any writer would, so you're definitely not alone in that feeling!

One of the things that keeps me going is knowing that there are people who enjoy my work, even if they don't comment or really interact with my stories. I got a different ask before yours came in and they talked about discouragement a little as well and they said:

"Just know for every person that comments, there are five more lurkers that might be too shy but read every chapter you put out."

And honestly, it's SO true!! And that's a big part of what keeps me going. Another big thing that's really important is to not burn yourself out! Writing is something that you should enjoy, and although when you have a multi-chapter fic going, it's hard to not feel pressured to continue writing, it's still something that you have to do for yourself first! Having people interact/subscribe/bookmark your fics can definitely be compared to putting more gas into your writing tank, but you need to make sure you're fulfilling your needs as well!

I think every writer goes through rough patches and even lengths of time where they're not motivated or just don't write, but it's important to not let your passion for what you do slip away either!

When I get into my own slumps I'll go through my asks and find one that I really, really like and just let my creativity run free. Before I was getting requests, I would just put out random one-shots that my brain came up with to keep the creativity alive! I also find that reading other fics (both good and not as good fics) can be inspiring!

I also think it's important to read fics you don't like (whatever the reason may be) because you can learn a lot about your own writing style when you're reading a fic you're not a fan of. You learn how and what you want to write and I find it easier to identify my mistakes or things I don't like in my own fics after reading them in other fics first.

But you are absolutely not alone in feeling that way! I can almost guarantee that every writer has felt that way before! Just remember why you started writing in the first place - to tell a story about characters that mean a lot to you. I promise you if it's something you enjoy, others will enjoy it too!

And regarding your last question - I definitely think new readers flock to the more popular fics first. I think it's natural and normal, it's definitely something I did when I first started reading fanfics. But this is also exactly why I think it's so important to promote and recommend smaller/not as popular/older fics when you can. There are some fics that don't have NEARLY enough views and deserve triple the amount they currently have.

The Devil's Den is a perfect example of this! I will die on this hill that this is arguably the most underrated fic in the fandom.

Don't forget the reason why you started writing in the first place, and when you feel burnt out, take a break! When you feel the urge to write but can't seem to get anything to further your story, write a one-shot and let your creativity run free!

You got this, fellow writer!! I hope my ramblings were helpful and if you ever have any more questions, please feel free to reach out and I'll answer them to the best of my ability!!💕💕

[alfgifu]

Fic analysis 31. The ocean in our veins

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51005773/chapters/128864983

Word count: 13,023

Chapters: 3

First posted: 21st October 2023

Last chapter up: 22nd October 2023

Summary: 

There were no vampires in the Palace of Stars. And you would have to determine what to do about Cliopher Sayo Mdang.

How and why this came about

There were several animated discussions in the fandom about vampire lore in the Nine Worlds. I’m not particularly familiar with vampires, apart from through through cultural osmosis and Terry Pratchett’s twists on the concept, but I found some of the ideas really interesting. Particularly the notion that vampirism might be treated entirely differently in the Vangavaye-ve than it was in a Shaian court.

Around the same time I was part of several discussions about kinks that were not yet tagged in the fandom.

I started this fic with the vague idea that Cliopher would be the vampire and that there would be temperature play.

This was supposed to be a quick response to the vampire prompt challenge but it turns out that writing vampire lore is entirely addictive. There were so many little bits of canon that could be pulled slightly sideways to fit the concept.

What worked and what didn’t

Framing the Sun-on-Earth as the scourge of vampires and the post-Fall Ouranatha as a particularly loathsome vampiric cult gave me an opportunity for Cliopher to ride to his Radiancy’s rescue. The constraints of doing so in the Petty Treasons era Solaara let Cliopher show his self-control and gave his Radiancy a good reason to need to rescue his rescuer in turn.

I’m really pleased with this one. I like all the connections that came out of the story and wound into canon. I like the messy and volcanic nature of the smut, and was deeply tickled to use the ‘blood as lube’ tag (some research went into this and I am pleased to assure you that it is magic blood and therefore does not coagulate too quickly to enable enjoyment etc).

The concept of human blood as an extension of the ocean is something I’d found deeply striking when I first came across it, probably in a popular science book somewhere, and it was satisfying to draw on it here. I had also recently visited a display of astronomy photos which included several of the surface of the sun that helped inform a richer depiction of the power of the Sun-on-Earth.

I deeply appreciated elīkabeha’s help with the Islander terms.

What I learned from writing it

Packing in all that extra worldbuilding tripled the length of the fic and took time - I spent a couple of solid days on this one.

I came to appreciate and understand a fair amount more about the various fluids that can/can’t be used as lube and their relevant properties.

This is up there as one of my favourite things I’ve written. Certainly my favourite short thing at the time it was published (I think In every heart there is a room has edged it out of the top spot since). I like it far better than some of my fics that seem to be a lot more popular and have been mildly puzzled by that discrepancy ever since it went up.

(I do appreciate that the kinky sex is probably something of an opinion-splitter.)

Anyway, this felt like it confirmed what wise friends had already told me: it really is delightful to write the things you enjoy and revel in them, whatever the wider response. I re-read this one regularly.

[bumblewarden]

ok so it's a bit late to the party, and my ao3 has had a few additions since this last chapter went up, but i've been wanting to look at some numbers, so here are some i just collected ^^

Diagram A. Top Five by Word Count. "Rites of Passage" had a final word count of 30,069 (nice). This makes it my longest fic by a large margin and about triple what I expected when i first started drafting it. Mostly, i just love how it looks just squishing everything else that tries to creep its way onto this list. Maybe someday it'll have some proper word count competition!

Diagram B. Cumulative Lengths of Fanfiction. "Rites of Passage" is the single longest fanfic on my account and accounts for just over half of total word count across my entire account. "Aftermath of a Tabris" is the series "Rites of Passage" is sorted under. "Novhen Tabris: Excised from Canon" is the sister series to that for the fics that are specifically AUs to "Aftermath of a Tabris".

Footnote B-1. The "Aftermath of a Tabris" category excludes "Rites of Passage" from its word count on this chart.

Footnote B-2. The "Dragon Age" category excludes "Rites of Passage", "Aftermath of a Tabris", and "Excised from Canon" from its word count on this chart.

Diagram C. Word Count Before and After Editing. Divided by chapter from "Rites of Passage". First draft is defined as the first point at which the individual chapter was completed. The original Chapter 3 was removed completely from the final fic, so the chapter numbers from after that point actually reflect the chapter number before that in the final published work (eg. What here is listed as Chapter 5 is in the final version Chapter 4). The majority of chapters became slightly longer after the editing process with the exceptions of Chapter 3 which was deleted and Chapter 10 which was shortened.

Diagram D. Rites of Passage Word Counts by Chapter. Here is the numerical data Diagram C uses for its chart. This version of the data also includes the calculated percent change between the two points. As sometimes Ao3 and Google Docs sometimes differ in their reported word counts, it is worth noting, the numbers used for the chapter-by-chapter analysis come from the word count tool in Google Docs.

Diagram E. Final Chapter Word Counts. Here we are back to labeling the chapters with the same numbers as in the published fic. Chapter 7 felt like a long one writing it, but it's interesting to me to see just what a big percent of the fic it takes up

---

thanks for looking at numbers with me! this is my favorite part of bringing a big project like this to completion (but hey i wouldn't be mad if you wanted to give it a read and leave a kudos either XD)

It is finally time for the Joining and the conclusion of this story! I’m sure everything will be fine :D

[crsjunkyard]

January Embers (Part 5)

The Sun Also Rises Series (ao3), Momentous Beginnings, A Study In Pink, January Embers (1), (2), (3), (4)

Ugh- this took so much longer than I wanted it to because my internet is out. But its okay because this is the longest chapter yet, weighing in at a whopping 6k. Also oopsies we're doing seven parts instead of six.

I will be indicating explicit sections to make them easily skippable, in this chapter the explicit sections are a bit more tame than in the coming sections. The start of an explicit section is indicated by a double line break like this: ******* *******

The conclusion of an explicit section is indicated by a triple line break ******* ******* *******

Length: 6k

Summary: How much longer can the two of you dance around each other before something gives?

******* *******

Viktor was in a frenzy.

The sound of running water drowned out the steady pounding in his ears. He stood there under the stream, long legs buckled- leaning heavily into the smooth shower wall. Cool porcelain against his back contrasted the steam swirling through the air, intensifying the buzz of pleasure already coursing through his veins.

He’d been dreaming about you, flashes of skin and heat and impossibly dark eyes.

You were on top of him, slowly circling your hips in a teasing motion- looking down with a predatory glint in your heated gaze.

Every time he would reach out- needing desperately to touch you, his hands would be batted away. After enough of these attempts, you pinned them above his head, leaning down so that warm breath ghosted over his sensitive neck.

“If you want to touch-” words punctuated by a tight squeeze on his immobile wrists. “You’re going to have to ask nicely,” you demanded, voice sultry and smooth- like silk spilling from your lips.

He woke alone, covered in a thin sheen of sweat- and dangerously close to coming in his pants. This wasn’t a time where he could focus on deep breaths for a few minutes and power through, he needed to get somewhere fast.

Quiet chopping sounds came from the kitchen, and Viktor decided to make a break for the bathroom, muttering a quick good morning to you on the way.

Now his head was thrown back, eyes closed tightly as he thrust into the snug canal of his closed fist. A visual loop of you running through his mind's eye. You in that pink dress- your naked body pressed against his bare chest- you fresh out of the shower wrapped in a skimpy towel- your hands stroking across the skin of his calf.

Switching to slow teasing strokes, he began to flick his wrist ever so slightly- thumb catching on his swollen head, spreading around the steady wetness that leaked from his cock in thick droplets.

He shoved a clenched fist between his teeth, trying to muffle the soft moans threatening to escape his throat. The last thing I need is for her to hear me.

The thought had the opposite effect he’d hoped for, and now he imagined that you could hear him. That you were listening in as he pleasured himself to the thought of you.

It was enough to make his vision go white, limbs locking up as intense waves of bliss washed over him. He came in thick spurts, not ceasing the steady stroking until he felt raw and used- enjoying the sharp edge of oversensitivity.

Viktor tried to regain his bearings, sticking his flushed face under the steady flow of water, breath still coming in heavy pants.

Something had shifted, it was almost imperceptible- but nonetheless, it was there. Ever since you’d wrapped around him from behind, placing that burning kiss to the side of his neck. There was a newfound tension in the air, a thick haze that settled around the two of you- charging your every interaction.

A breaking point was coming, Viktor felt it in his bones.

He finished washing up, lathering himself in lightly scented bubbles. A bit of the unbearable heat had abated, but he was still feeling frustrated and unfulfilled.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you wanted him, not anymore. Now the two of you were playing a dangerous game of chicken, toeing at a line that got fainter each day.

*******

Smack, smack, smack

Your knife came down in even strokes as you roughly chopped at a small pile of roasted nuts. Maybe you slammed it a bit harder than was necessary, but it wasn’t your fault, you had a lot of pent up frustration to work out.

Every time you looked at Viktor’s pretty face a sharp ache pierced through your body. It didn’t matter what he was doing, somehow, someway- you would get turned on.

He was writing in his journal, slender fingers tightly gripping the pen as words flowed onto the page- you couldn’t help but wonder, what would those talented digits feel like inside you?

That little flutter of his eyelids, followed by a pleased humm of enjoyment when he took his first bite of something you’d cooked- how many other noises could you pull from him if you had the chance? How sweetly would he whimper your name?

Smack, smack, smack

Sometimes- during research, his honeyed eyes would grow dark and stormy, full of intensity and passion. What you wouldn't give to be the subject of those passions, to be pinned underneath that fierce gaze- to be completely at his mercy.

But then again, you remembered all the times he’d come to help you in the kitchen- so eager to learn, so ready to take instruction. He was good too, so good at following every step you’d laid out for him. Would he like to be at your mercy? Would he want to be told how to please you- told what a good boy he was for you-

Smack, smack, thunk

You swore loudly as the sharp edge of your blade sliced through the meat of your palm.

******* ******* ********

Viktor had just pulled on his pants when he heard you yell, a loud and sharp curse followed by quiet muttering. He hurried from the bathroom to come check on you- still damp and without a shirt.

He saw you standing in front of the counter, holding a rag to the center of your palm- deep crimson slowly saturating the soft blue cloth. You looked at him, trying to give a casual shrug but wincing in pain as it jostled your hand.

Although you weren’t in quite enough pain to ignore the breathtaking sight of a freshly showered shirtless Viktor, easily distracted by the creamy expanse of lightly muscled skin.

Viktor watched your eyes glaze over as they roamed his exposed torso, tongue darting out to lick your lips, looking at him like a freshly baked lemon tart. You were unbelievable, absolutely incorrigible- it would be amusing if you weren’t about to drip blood all over the kitchen floor.

“You must be kidding- keep pressure on that,” he commanded, reaching into a corner cabinet to retrieve the medkit.

“Oh, since when do we have that,” you said in surprise.

“Since the fried mushroom incident,” he responded dryly, pulling out a bit of gauze and antiseptic.

“Ah- good call,” you clenched your teeth as he removed the cloth, gently cleaning the shallow cut with tender swipes. He wrapped it methodically, gauging your face for any lingering pain.

“There- good as new,” he cradled your injured palm gently, giving you a soft smile.

“Thank you, sorry about the blood,” you apologized sheepishly.

“Just be more careful, I don’t like to see you in pain,” he said earnestly, still cupping your hand.

It would never cease to amaze you, how easily he said those words. Those words that meant the world to you- that you would echo back a thousand and one times.

“I will,” you promised, eyes doing a brief sweep for blood before moving back towards the cutting board to finish breakfast.

“Ah- what do you think you’re doing?” he questioned, moving to stand between you and the countertop.

“Finishing breakfast,” you spoke slowly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I do not think so- solnishka, you just cut yourself,” he gave an exasperated eye roll, moving to pick up a clean knife. “I believe I am capable of finishing morning oats, you can guide me.”

Your knees went weak at his suggestion, Is he doing this on purpose?

Despite your lowered reasoning capacity, breakfast was finished quickly. Viktor was good with his hands, completing your work with easy knife strokes- adding the dried fruits and a few spoonful's extra than your recommended amount of honey to the softly cooked oats.

He filled two large bowls, looking up at you fondly before reaching into the cupboard and adding a heavy sprinkle of cinnamon to yours.

Is it possible to love someone so much it hurts? you wondered, feeling like your heart was in a vice.

The two of you settled comfortably across from each other at your small table.

“Thank you for breakfast, zoloste.”

You winced as soon as the endearment left your mouth, it sounded much less romantic than when you’d practiced it in the market.

Viktor watched your expression turn sour, stifling a laugh at the clumsy way your mouth formed the vowels, coming out stretched in all the wrong places.

“Ugh- don’t laugh at me I can’t take it,” you hung your head, palms over your eyes.

“No- no- no- I am sorry, I was merely surprised,” he soothed, reaching out to tilt up your chin. “How about we practice together, yes?”

You nodded, still wanting to learn how- and knowing you were being a touch dramatic.

“I will start slowly, so you can hear the particular inflections easily, then we will speed up so that you are comfortable using it conversationally.”

So long as it is only ever spoken for me, he wanted to add.

He was in full professor mode, working through things slowly- being patient when you became frustrated, but never sugarcoating what needed to be corrected. In no time the diminutive was rolling off your lips with practiced ease.

“Thanks for the lesson, zoloste, although I still think it sounds better when you say it.”

You loved watching his mouth move, seeing the unique way his lips would curl- stressing vowels, gliding over consonants. It was positively mesmerizing.

“What did I do to earn a look such as that?” he questioned coyly, somewhat confused by the appreciative way you were gazing at his lips.

“I just- I like it, your accent I mean,” you admitted through a mouthful of oats.

Oh, that was a surprise.

“Really? You- enjoy the way I talk?” he asked, a shadow of doubt tugging at his features.

“What? Is that hard to believe?” you were curious.

It was hard for him to believe, the way he spoke was just another signal to others that he was abnormal- that he was lesser- that he was to be avoided.

“Let me just say this, others are not always kind to those who are different- this is a familiar topic of discussion, no?”

His nonchalance was betrayed by the sadness in his eyes, a window to old wounds- wounds you wished desperately to heal with loving words and tender kisses.

“We’ve already established, I like you just the way you are, wouldn’t change a thing even if I could,” you said firmly, needing him to know the words were true.

“Really- because I recall a particularly heated moment where- and correct me if I am mistaken, you said Why are you like this, I can’t ever forgive you.”

He’s baiting me, I know he’s baiting me-

“Viktor, that doesn’t count,” you exclaimed, crossing your arms. “It was after you’d said you didn’t like my gingersnaps!”

“Cookies should not be spicy, it isn’t right,” he shot you a sassy look, standing to clear off the table before disappearing into the kitchen.

******

Viktor sat at the foot of the bed, straightening his tie before neatly lacing his shoes.

“What’re you all dressed up for,” you questioned. Really he wasn’t dressed up- just dressed, but you were still in pajamas.

“Jayce and I have a meeting with Professor Heimerdinger.”

“I thought labs were meant to be shut down all week?” you asked in confusion.

“Yes- well, he insisted it was more of an informal meeting, that he just had something brief to discuss with us,” Viktor shrugged on the heavy winter coat hanging by the door before continuing. “He also wanted to take a look at our most recent notes- we have a rough idea on how to control the teleportation fluctuations, perhaps stabilizing a gateway from a chosen location.”

“Would be good for trade, I suppose that’s what it’s intended for,” you commented with narrowed eyes.

“Eh- there were a few concessions made on how the end result would be used, my stipulations being that they are used just as much to improve undercity infrastructure as they are to line the pockets of councilors,” he spoke the words proudly.

“That's great! Did you bring up the waste disposal idea- I think that would be a better place to start? I mean- pollution is the number one cause of all health problems for the entire city, no use tackling malnourishment if everybody is dying of smog inhalation.”

He loved listening to you talk about research, you were so uniquely practical yet able to think of the most unexpected solutions. She is going to make a brilliant addition- if it is what she wants.

“Yes, I believe that was at the top of the list,” he assured.

“Good luck, and tell them both I said hello,” you moved to wrap your arms around his neck- hugging him goodbye.

“Of course,” he responded, leaving a quick kiss on your forehead before heading out into the snow.

The door shut behind him, and suddenly the prospect of a bit of alone time in the apartment was all too appealing.

******* *******

Viktor made it halfway there before realizing he’d forgotten something important- the specific notes Professor Heimerdinger had wanted to take a look at.

They really were necessary, so he’d have to double back. He wasn’t fond of being late- but it couldn’t be avoided. Oh well, it’s winter shutdown anyways.

Walking back at as fast a pace as his leg would allow, he hurriedly threw open the door, intent on finding his notes quickly.

He froze- mouth going dry.

You were on the bed, freshly showered judging by the damp tangles of your hair- and completely nude.

One arm stretched above your head, tightly fisted into bunched sheets. Legs spread invitingly wide, fingers slowly sliding through your wet folds. Your eyes were shut tightly, and you let out the sweetest little groans of pleasure.

Viktor stood there silently, too shocked by the sight before him to know what to do. Obviously he couldn’t keep standing here, watching while you were unaware- but gods was he just to clear his throat and say, Excuse me- sorry for the interruption, I forgot my notebook.

Then you said it- softly, but loud enough that he could not mistake it for anything else.

“Mmm- Viktor please,” slowly sliding a wet finger inside yourself.

The words caused him to let out a strangled groan, feeling all the blood in his body rush southward. Alerted by the sound, your eyes shot open, legs snapping closed in panic.

“Viktor,” you squeaked out, in a decidedly less pleased voice than from moments ago.

“I forgot my notes,” the words rushed shakily from his lips as he stood there- still stuck in place.

To say you were mortified would be an understatement, of all the ways you’d imagined Viktor finally seeing you spread out across the covers- this wasn’t one of them. Oh gods, how long was he there, did he hear what I said?

“You said my name,” he blurted, amber eyes wide in astonishment. Okay, he definitely heard what I said.

“Uh- well I- uhm,” you stuttered, the weight of his gaze scrambling all coherency.

“Why did you say my name?” The question came out before he could stop himself.

Viktor knew why, he was no fool- but some hungry and wanting desire within him needed to hear you say the words aloud. Some piece of him that still clung on to that last shred of insecurity, that maybe there was a chance he’d been reading things all wrong.

“Really, Viktor?” you snapped, finding your voice again. “You’re supposed to be a genius, I’m sure you can figure it out for yourself,” you shot him a skeptical look.

He simply shrugged, waiting to see if you would confirm his hopeful suspicions.

“I was thinking about you, okay?” you mumbled quietly.

Hearing you say it aloud punched the air from his lungs, he wanted nothing more than to cross the short distance separating you. Perhaps settle in the space between your legs that had earlier been spread so enticingly.

“You were thinking about me? While you- err, while you were-”

“Yes!” you shouted. “Okay? YES, would you like me to say it again?”

“I would not be opposed to hearing…” his cheeky remark was cut off as you forcefully threw a pillow his way, looking even more enchanting as you scowled up at him.

“I am sorry for interrupting your, eh- private moment. I will grab my notes and leave you to continue.”

You watched him go, belatedly realizing you’d never bothered to cover up during the entire interaction. Did that really just happen?

As panic subsided, you couldn't help but replay the dark quirk of his lips, that devilishly sneaky little comment- the way his eyes shamelessly wandered your exposed form. You liked the thought of being the only one he looked at like that- of being the only one who would get the absolute pleasure of taking him apart.

Meanwhile, Viktor walked to his meeting in a daze. Wondering how he could ever look at the bed again without seeing you, gloriously naked- legs spread in invitation.

******* ******* *******

Jayce waited in the Professor's office, becoming more worried as the minutes ticked by. It was not like Viktor to be late, and unheard of for him to be late for a meeting with someone such as Heimerdinger.

Finally he arrived- looking a bit ruffled, explaining that he’d had to go back for a particular set of notes.

Jayce couldn't put his finger on it, but something had changed in his partner. It was always the eyes that gave Viktor away. Talented as he may be at controlling his body language or carefully schooling his expressions- Viktor’s eyes held a certain gleam that couldn't be stifled.

“Not a problem, I appreciate you going back for them,” the Professor thanked, setting the journal down on his desk.

“Now, down to business,” he looked up at the young researchers excitedly. “I have some good new for you boys, in light of the recent Hextech breakthroughs the council has decided to fund a new lab- much larger than the one you’re occupying now.”

The boys looked at each other in surprise, Jayce reacting first- reaching to wrap an excited arm around Viktor’s shoulders, giving him a tight squeeze.

“That’s amazing news!” Jayce began babbling. “Where is the new lab? Oh and when are we moving? I wonder how much we’ll be able to do with more space?”

“Are there strings attached?” Viktor asked bluntly, he wasn’t Jayce- he couldn’t afford to have a trusting nature, not when there was so much at stake.

Heimerdinger looked at Viktor appraisingly, as if he was seeing him for the first time. “No, my boy, the conditions outlined in our previous meeting still stand, all of the conditions,” he said meaningfully.

“Then, that is indeed excellent news,” a small smile graced Viktor’s lips.

“-And of course with the new lab comes attached living quarters, should you choose to use them- they are quite spacious” the Professor added offhandedly.

Viktor’s mind immediately went to you. Things had just settled down, the both of you were happy in your little apartment. But he could finally give you more, a proper home the two of you could grow into- build a life together. Would you want to move? If you didn’t he would stay put, simple as that.

Jayce watched Viktor closely, easily guessing that it was you on his mind- he was probably overthinking things. Jayce knew you would be thrilled, knew that you’d be happy to accompany them. But- wait, surely somebody must know by now that you were tagging along- spending most of your time in a private high priority academy research lab was a fairly obvious tip off?

He really needed to have a private discussion with Viktor after this meeting.

“Oh and before I forget, you boys have been invited to the academy's private winter cocktail party- it seems there are more than a few individuals eager to see the faces behind the revolution of Hextech.”

Oh, that would be interesting. Viktor had never attended, even in all his years working closely with the professor- and Jayce wouldn't have been either as the guest list was fairly exclusive.

“Thank you Professor, we look forward to seeing you there,” Jayce said warmly.

“You as well my boy, and each of you are more than welcome to bring a guest of your own,” he happily offered, once again sliding his gaze to Viktor meaningfully.

“Well I think that concludes our business- thank you for dropping by on such short notice,” both men moved to leave, halfway out the door before the professor spoke up. “Viktor, if I could have a quick word?”

Jayce sent Viktor a look that screamed, we will be talking about this later, before shutting the door behind him.

Viktor stood there, waiting to hear what the Professor had to say.

“Have you had a chance to think about my proposal? I know the news I’ve just delivered may need to be discussed before you come to a decision?”

“Yes, but before I ask her I’ll need to discuss it with Jayce- just to make certain,” Viktor responded.

“Very well, that sounds like a good idea- but I’d like an answer by the end of winter shutdown.” Heimerdinger knew it would not do well to put off a conversation as important as this one.

“You’ll have one,” he assured, leaving the office with a bit of nervous energy buzzing through his mind.

He half expected to see Jayce waiting by the door to grill him for information, and upon rounding the corner his suspicions were confirmed.

“What was that about,” he immediately began an onslaught of questioning.

“There is much we must discuss,” he admitted. “I need to pick up a few things at the library, walk with me?”

*******

Viktor walked into the library with a newfound sense of purpose. His conversation with Jayce had gone wonderfully- and all that was left was to talk to you. But he had a few things to take care of first.

He was a scientist at heart- and when taking a risk, nothing was more important than minimizing the unknown. After today, Viktor realized there was a glaring gap in his education that was becoming increasingly pressing.

Sure, he had a rudimentary knowledge of anatomy, but that wasn’t enough. He wanted more than anything to reduce you to a pile of desperation and quivering nerves- to show you in the most intimate of ways how deep his love ran.

There was no shortage of things he’d wished to do after seeing you spread across the bed this morning, an endless flood of ideas that became more indecent by the minute. But he lacked experience and all its accompanying knowledge- although it wasn’t something he necessarily felt embarrassed about.

In his mind- this was right, this was how things were meant to be. How could he ever want anyone who wasn’t you?

So here he was, darting from aisle to aisle in the public library- an arm full of texts regarding female pleasure. Not even the judgmental look from the desk clerk could dampen his spirits, simply smiling and wishing her a pleasant evening on his way out.

*******

You were perched on the couch reading when Viktor finally got home- and your eyes zeroed in on his slower than usual pace. It had been a rather strenuous day, and although he looked nothing short of happy- you knew his leg must be bothering him.

“Come sit- and pants off, you can tell me about your meeting while I work.”

He complied easily, this had become somewhat of a routine whenever you noticed him walking stiffly. Stripping out of his trousers, he sat next to you on the sofa- allowing you to pull his leg into your lap.

“Jayce and I have been invited to the private academy cocktail party,” he started, watching you begin above the juncture of his knee.

“Oh, that’s a big deal- you guys will have the chance to meet a lot of important figures there- really start cementing the future of Hextech,” you responded, knowing how important networking would start to become as their research grew.

“I would like you to accompany me,” he asked, feeling your hands pause in their movements.

“Really? Is that allowed?” you questioned, and he could see a glimpse of excitement in your eyes.

“Yes, it is allowed” he chuckled. “And I really would have a dreadful time without you there, so I hope you’ll come,” and how could you say anything but yes when he batted those long lashes at you so sweetly.

“Of course I’ll go, I love a good party,” you said happily, finishing up at his ankle with firm swirls of your thumbs.

Gods he loved it when you touched him, you offered your touch so freely- it was intoxicating. The gentle massages- the soft way you would cling to him in your sleep- every time he left, no matter how long he would be gone, you pulled him into a snug farewell embrace.

“Excellent,” he beamed radiantly. “Caitlin will be by tomorrow with some dresses.”

“You knew I’d say yes, huh?” you raise a teasing brow at him.

“I may have had a small inkling,” he confirmed, oozing self-satisfaction.

Should he broach earlier's incident? Perhaps not since you seemed perfectly at ease, not interested in bringing it up yourself. It didn’t matter, he had studying to do after all.

“I’m gonna go make cream horns,” you informed him, ruffling his hair on your way to the kitchen.

Viktor settled comfortably on the couch, getting to work on the pile of books tucked in his satchel, it would be an informative evening.

*******

Jayce had shown up much too early that morning to drag Viktor off for a suit fitting, apparently the boys didn’t have anything up to par for the party either.

Now you nervously paced the fence bordering the Kiramman estate, waiting for Cait to come out and meet you- two boxes of cream horns stacked precariously in your grip.

This was a daunting prospect, how many gowns could she possibly have? You’d asked Jayce that question this morning, after he’d said Cait was expecting you at her place midday, and he had merely laughed- giving you a short good luck.

“Good, you made it!” you looked up to see her unlatching the gate, smiling in amusement at the boxes you toted.

“Of course, it’s kind of hard to miss,” you joked, nodding toward the massive building.

“Here let me help you,” she reached for a box, signaling for you to follow. “You know, you really don’t have to do this,” Cait held up the pastries meaningfully.

“And you didn’t have to help me with finding a dress, or replacing all my clothing,” you countered with a smile.

“Alright fair enough,” she shrugged. “Thanks though, these are really good.”

“I did some chocolate ones this time as well, let me know what you think,” you asked her eagerly.

Entering into a spacious foyer, she led you up the sprawling staircase and down a maze of halls, before finally turning a finely adorned handle. The room you entered was filled with mirrors, a few mannequins styled in lavish gowns- and closet doors lining either wall.

Cait kicked off her shoes before unceremoniously taking a large bite of the chocolate cream filled horn, letting out a loud noise of enjoyment.

“Ugh- are you sure you’re in love with that scrawny scientist, because damn these are good,” she flirted playfully.

You smacked a palm to your forehead, groaning in frustration. “Does everyone know? It seems like everyone has talked about this besides Viktor and I.”

“The two of you have all the subtlety of Jayce holding a neon sign,” she teased, covering the pastries before moving to open one of the closet doors.

“Yeah well subtle was never really my strong suit,” you grumbled, eyeing the rows of dresses nervously. Caitlin watched your trepidation with unmasked amusement.

“It may surprise you to hear, but I’m actually a hopeless romantic- so how could I pass up the opportunity to find you the perfect dress to confess your undying love in,” she swooned dramatically, making you let out a light snort. “Besides, I have to go to this stupid gala every year, at least now I’ll actually have people I like to talk to.”

You caught a glimpse of something under her confident façade, something sad. It must have been lonely- all these years stuck at parties, surrounded by very few friends and too many expectations.

“What should I expect?” you asked, watching her flit from closet to closet grabbing different gowns.

“Don’t worry, people are going to judge you no matter what- so you might as well be yourself,” she responded bluntly, something you’d always appreciated about her.

“That bad, huh?”

“They’re vicious and cruel, not much else to do besides gossip and grab for power when you’re already at the top,” she said the words conversationally, pulling out different pairs of shoes from various cupboards.

“I’m glad to be going then, I don’t think the boys really understand what they’ve started- what they’re research means,” you paused, trying to find the right words to express your concern. “I have this sinking feeling that… to people at the gala, they’re just tools to be controlled- or assets to be appraised,” the thought was enough to spark venom in your veins.

“Good, you get it then. The boys think this is just a party- too blinded by their love of the research to understand the political nuances, Jayce more so than Viktor. Tomorrow night will be about standing our ground, cementing our places to the others as part of their inner circle.”

She finally finished moving about the room, turning to you with a serious gaze.

“Jayce is their shiny new icon, Viktor is sliding under the radar- he’s easily overlooked when Jayce fits their golden boy archetype so perfectly,” you felt the disdain dripping from her every word.

“I think Viktor will have made a few waves by now, after insisting that the new Hextech developments be used to improve undercity infrastructure,” you countered, feeling the information was important to share.

“Even better,” she hissed sarcastically. “Instead of a nonentity he’s become a threat, then people will certainly be trying to drive a wedge between them- probably thinking Jayce might be more easily swayed by the limelight.”

“We won’t let that happen,” you responded fiercely, gripping her hand in your own.

“They’re lucky to have us,” she gave you a rueful smile. “Now, I already know which dress you’re going to wear- but let's try a few on anyways for fun.”

*******

“This is ridiculous, it’s too many pieces,” Jayce grumbled from the changing room.

“You’re the one who was so very excited by the invitation, this is all part of the high-society charm,” Viktor shot back, waiting outside the stall for Jayce.

“Yeah well I thought the academy uniform was restricting, but this takes the cake,” rustling fabric and frustrated grunts sounded through the curtain barrier.

“Restricting you from what exactly?” Viktor questioned in an amused tone.

“You know, this and that- ugh, I just want to be comfortable,” he finally surfaced, coming out with a grumpy expression on his tanned face. “How did you get yours on so fast?”

“Ah see, you look great,” Viktor encouraged, stepping aside to give Jayce a view in the full length mirror. And he had to admit, they did look pretty good- they made a good team.

Jayce studied himself- surprised by the way his crisp black suit accented the strong angles of his form- bringing out the darkness in his features and the deepness of his eyes.

He was in even more awe at the sight of Viktor. Perfectly tailored lines of midnight blue fabric contrasted his creamy skin, bringing out the golden hue of his amber eyes. He looked positively lethal- tall and lithe posture commanding the kind of strength forged in the fires of pain and strife.

They didn’t look like two lost boys who’d risked everything on a gamble, they looked ready to change the world without asking permission, they looked powerful.

“We look great,” he put an arm around Viktor’s shoulder, trying to pour all the love and appreciation and respect he had for his partner into a single look.

“I want to tell you,” Viktor cleared his throat. “I need you to know- because I do not say it as much as I should, that I am proud of us- and very proud of you,” he finished thickly, arm reaching up to gently cup the back of Jayce’s neck.

Jayce pulled Viktor close, hugging him tightly and most definitely not wiping wetness from his eyes.

“Before we return home, would you mind helping me pick something up?” he asked Jayce, an eager gleam in his eyes.

*******

“When are you gonna talk to her?” Jayce questioned enthusiastically, sitting across from Viktor on the apartment’s worn recliner.

“Tomorrow, after the gala,” Viktor looked towards the bed longingly. “I’m going to ask her.”

“Ugh- finally, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Jayce groaned in relief.

“I think you are being a bit over dramatic, no?” Viktor quirked a sharp brow.

“Absolutely not- not after the day she wore that pink dress, and I had to watch a puddle of drool slowly gather below your open mouth,” he laughed at the audible snap of Viktor's jaw, a sure signal that he’d won the argument.

“Can I borrow those diagrams, the ones for the stabilization beacon- I wanted to go over them again to try and nail down those frequency cycles,” Jayce asked.

“Of course, they should be right next to you- in my bag,” Viktor said without thinking, gesturing to the other side of the chair. It wasn’t until Jayce began opening the bag that Viktor realized his mistake.

Opening his mouth to stop him, it didn’t take long for Viktor to find out he’d been too late.

Jayce let out a sound of surprise before sending Viktor a grin that was positively dripping with glee, his brows climbing higher as he sifted through the stack of books.

“Doing a little light reading are we?” Jayce asked, a sneaky smirk resting high on his cheeks.

“Ah- I err- well you see,” Viktor found himself quite flustered by the unexpected turn in conversation. This was not a topic of discussion the two of them had ever engaged in, and he was unsure of how to respond.

“You know- you don’t need all that,” Jayce said gently, snapping the bag shut and returning it to the floor.

“I wish to be prepared, it is important that she know- how much I care for her,” Viktor admitted, feeling vulnerability prick at his skin.

Jayce had never really been sure about his friends romantic experiences. Viktor was a complex man, the more he opened up the more Jayce realized- he really had no idea what Viktor had been through. It wasn’t surprising to hear Viktor was a virgin- but it would be equally unsurprising for Jayce to find out he’d slept his way through half the high council. He was a man capable of great extremes.

Knowing this was an important milestone in their friendship, Jayce put aside the dozen or so jokes waiting on the tip of his tongue.

“You already have the important stuff, the love and the trust- now you just gotta,” he gesticulated in a confusing manner.

“Y’know, learn together- what you like or what feels good,” Jayce trailed off shyly, feeling slightly embarrassed under Viktor's intense gaze.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are surprisingly wise?” Viktor couldn’t fight the upward tug of his lips.

“You know- I actually have heard that before,” Jayce laughed, leaning forward in the chair. “Now- if you really wanted to learn something, I could give you a few tips?” he offered, a bit of cockiness invading his tone.

“I’m listening,” Viktor responded, scooting closer in rapt attention.

*******

[bastillia]

Loyalties Lie

AO3 Mirror

Summary: You're a bartender in a Lothal cantina, living a quiet life in the Outer Rim after the fall of the Empire. You can't help but wonder what more might be out there for you. One dangerous guest in particular keeps catching your eye. Unfortunately, you've also caught his.

Rating: E

Words: 6.1k

Warnings: possibly mild dubcon, threats with a weapon, rough sex, verbal degradation, mentions of alcohol, cumplay, Boba Fett has a 24oz monster can dick and he knows how to use it.

A/N: Remember when I said I had a Boba Fett WIP laying around like, months ago? Well guess who showed up in Mando S2 with a sexy dad bod and the fattest dick in the galaxy to overhaul my dreams and make them a reality. Fuck me. Yes this is the first thing I’ve written in months hi I’m still here. No I don’t know how many chapters this will be. I live in hell. Welcome. Thank you to @kylorengarbagedump​ for graciously beta reading and listening to me literally scream about this man all the time. Love y’all so much PLEASE ENJOY.

**

It’s the kind of night that hums. 

Like a moonlit Lothal prairie, quiet and alive somewhere beyond the outskirts of town. Except that in here, the crickets swoop past your bar to buy shots, and the stars fall steadily to become the lovely tink of credits in your tip jar. The twin moons are shifting hues of neon light, and time seems to stroll by, like it has nowhere better to be.

Tonight has been steady. 

It’s not busy enough tonight to challenge you, but not slow enough to let you rest. Your guard is up, as it always is when you’re behind the bar. But your hold on it can afford to be loose. 

Tonight has been…

Boring. 

No brawls, no assassinations, not even a drunken paw fumbling across the bar towards your tits, attached to some overly rowdy patron who you then get to watch with quiet glee as they’re dragged out by the ears. No, in fact, it’s hard to remember the last time something remotely interesting happened around here. So much for the Outer Rim’s rugged reputation. You hate to say you miss the Empire’s occupation from time to time. But at least it brought nightly intrigue.

Tonight, your guests are especially calm and happy, lulled by liquor and the easy flow of conversation, murmurs blending like a stream through the grassland. And you suppose you shouldn’t complain. You’ve more than earned your keep for the night, and then some. Best of all, your boss has no reason to be breathing down your neck. 

In fact, he’s happy, too, you note when the Lasat’s bellowing business-laugh resounds overtop a few flutes of spotchka, glowing inside a booth across the room. You pass a cloth around the rim of a clean glass, feeling a tickle of interest as to who he might be schmoozing this time. When you glance up, you can just make out a pair of well-dressed Rodians seated across from him through the leisure-thick air of the cantina, nudging each other and laughing at whatever witty, schmoozy thing he just said. 

A soft snort puffs through your nose. At least Dakk is a predictable man, if nothing else. Must be rich folk, probably well connected. Good. You’ll get no help tonight, but at least he will be occupied for a while.

In fact...

Flicking a quick glance around the room, you take your chance and shrug your outer tunic off your shoulders, quickly smoothing down your much more revealing undershirt until it clings to the shape of you. You know Dakk hates when you do this, always goes on about keeping the place “classy.” But he’s not looking, and if it puts a few extra credits in your jar by the end of the night, it’s worth it. Anyway, you’re in a good mood tonight. Bored nonetheless, and the combination always forges a mischievous kind of boldness in you; a tiny spark that glows just bright enough to cast the idea of consequence in shadow.

You scan the bar for an empty drink, a flirtatious urge rolling off of your freshly bared skin and filling your ribs with air. It’s not long before you hone on your target-- an unsuspecting guest sitting alone, head turned away. Probably eavesdropping. A smirk curves your lips and you sidle over, plink a glass down between you, leaning your elbows on the bartop. 

“Something else for you, sugar?”

His head whips around with a guilty swiftness, but you just offer an easy smile, shifting your weight through your hips to coax his eyes down your body. It works like a charm.

“I, uh...“ The young Mirialan stammers directly at your tits. “Yeah, c-can I, ah…” 

As you wait out his struggle, an idea sparks in your freshly emboldened mind. Maker’s sake, might as well help the poor thing out. 

“Got a ruge liqueur in stock, last shipment off Alderaan. Rare these days.” Your lashes flutter, tongue just barely playing your along your lower lip as if teasing some unspoken promise. “I just couldn’t help but notice, you seem like a person of exceptional taste.”

The words are warm summer air on your tongue, practiced and enticing. You can see them go to the kid’s head like spice smoke, his cheeks immediately flushing deep emerald beneath diamond-shaped tattoos. 

“Y-yeah?” He straightens, runs a hand through his hair, grinning sheepishly. “I mean...yeah! I, uh, I am. That s-sounds great, yeah. Um. Please.”

You smile. Too easy. 

Now, it’s not technically a lie. You do have the ruge in stock, it’s just that--well, it’s definitely nothing this kid can afford. But you’d bet a week’s worth of tips that you can slip him a cheap offworld varietal instead. Charge him triple its price, pocket the excess. Poor thing wouldn’t know the real stuff if it bit him.

You swell with the thought. That amount might even let you buy something nice for yourself for once. It might be a little slimy, but... fuck it. Kid seems well off enough. Decently nice clothes, cologne, that misplaced air of belonging that comes with sheltered entitlement. Surely he won’t miss a few extra credits. Anyway, you deserve this, right?

Moving to speak again, you prepare to lay the flirting on thick, really sell the gambit. But before you get the chance, a loud bang snaps your attention upward just in time to see the cantina door slam open. 

You straighten where you stand, irritation and curiosity pricking your ears in equal measure. But then a slight hush cuts the ease of your buzzing meadow, and your chest squeezes with it.

Boba Fett.

The hunter takes up almost the whole doorway, a broad tower of matte green beskar catching the soft neons of the cantina. The distinctly cold gaze of the Mandalorian helmet scans the room, stirring murmurs and averting eyes until it comes to rest, finally, upon you.

It feels like two cold weights set down on your shoulders, being the focus of that stare. 

Even as the energy picks back up around you, as conversations cautiously resume, it’s like you’re trapped in it, breathless under its weight and unable to look away. You vaguely register the Mirialan turn back to your tits and ask them something about when your shift ends. But you’re still transfixed, watching the armored man take a few deliberate steps towards the bar and straddle a stool, the visor trained like a crosshair upon you as his forearms settle on the bartop.

You’ve seen him here before. Heard his name whispered in weighted ripples ever since news spread through the Outer Rim that Bib Fortuna was dead. Since then, he’s come through maybe once every few dozen cycles, each time with a couple new chips in the paint of his armor. He comes here on business--or at least you assume that’s what it must be, since he always meets someone, speaks in hushed tones enshrouded by the dim corner booth in the back. He’ll toss a few credits on the bar when he leaves, but has never uttered a word to you, never ordered a drink.

Never even glanced your way, for all you know. Until right now. 

You swallow. Fucking hell, if there’s anything you’re used to, it’s being looked at. So why is this gaze kicking your pulse up into the base of your throat, making you feel exposed? A prickle of heat is already settling in your cheeks.

And then the visor cocks, and just barely tilts down the length of your figure. 

A tight breath snaps into your lungs, and your eyes dart to the bartop, across the room, back to the Mirialan still babbling dumbly at you, your face now hot. Kriff, what is wrong with you? Since when are you outright flustered by some stranger copping an eyeful? You try to breathe, ignoring how the hairs stand on your neck.

But you can still feel his attention like the heat of a sun warming your bare shoulder, and it makes something start to coil in your belly and glow there.

“I’ll have that ruge right up, sweetheart.” 

You’re pretty sure you interrupt the kid, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just calls out a stammered thank-you as you pivot away towards your new guest, your heart kicking against your sternum. Your feet almost feel weighted to the floor, and by the time you reach him, your pulse has an edge like a blade. 

“Something I can interest you in?” 

There’s a breathlessness to the warm air of your voice now, and you pray to the Maker that it doesn’t betray you. You lean against the bar, hoping that the solidity of the wood will somehow teach your nerves to follow its example. It doesn’t. 

He seems to study you for a moment, motionless. And then his shoulders shift, his elbows widen, and he leans in towards you.

“Information.” His voice is low and direct, barely above a graveled whisper, the single accent-laden word dragging through your belly and sparking like metal on stone.

Fuck.

Of course he’s after the one thing you’re not willing to sell.

Your heart stalls while your mind starts to race, eyes searching the dark visor. Of course you’d be a fool to deny him, and he knows it. That’s why he’s asking you. Why would you risk rousing a scene in your own bar, especially when the night is so mercifully calm? Easier to give him what he wants. Tap into your collection of liquor-loosened secrets, and knowledge of the local crowd.

The thing is, you’ve built a good rapport for your discretion. You think. Not to mention the number of cutting warnings Dakk has laid on you about the consequences for selling secrets in his bar. Is it really worth risking? Fett intimidates you, no doubt. But he’s also banking on the assumption that you won’t make this difficult for him. He has to be. And now unease and excitement are starting to play a game of catch between your ribs with that tiny, dangerous spark of boldness.

“Fresh out.” Your fingers drum the wood beneath them, trying to ground your reflexes through the rush of adrenaline that accompanies your words. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you stare into the blackness of the visor as you let the tiniest, playful smirk flit over your face.  “Perhaps something to drink?”

Slowly, achingly slowly, Boba Fett settles back on the bar stool. Unease lances you, splintering with the immediate question of whether you just made the right choice. You don’t want to think about how many he’d manage to kill before you could even blink, if he decided to do something extreme. His hand starts to shift back along his thigh, drawing a path towards the blaster at his hip. You swallow, panic pricking your neck.

Just as your muscles are primed to dive behind the bar, convinced you’re going to have to evade his quickdraw, his palm just takes a lazy rest on the hilt. The helmet levels, and then leans slowly to the side. 

“No.” 

Dizzied, you blink. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking through that helmet, and he’s offered you all of two words. But was that… amusement, you heard? No. Anger? Fuck, now you’re really imagining things.

Still a little breathless, you straighten, sensing that you’re dismissed. The thought of flirting with a killer was a much-needed rush, but you need to take his indifference as a mercy after that little stunt and get on with your job while he’s giving you the chance. What little you apparently have left of a survival instinct is at least telling you that much.

You shrug. 

“Suit yourself.”

It feels dangerous to take your eyes off of him. But you force yourself to do so anyways, turning your back on the hunter and making your way to the dim doorway at the end of the bar, his attention still heating your spine. 

It’s a fucking relief to slip through the door to the storage room, ease the door shut behind you, and for the first time in what feels like moons, you let a long breath fill your lungs. The familiar scent of dust and wine-aged wood floods you, and something like disappointment tugs at your heart.

Maybe that stupid, adventure-craving side of your imagination took things too far, fueled by your boredom and the prospect of something exciting finally happening. You suppose you projected that naive hope onto Boba Fett, if nothing else just because he’s the first person to come through here in a long time that actually intrigues you. That confounds your prized, finely-calibrated radar for reading people without having to speak a word to them.

Fuck, he really wouldn’t give you much more than a word, would he? Guess he’s determined to keep scrambling your sensors. It shouldn’t deject you as much as it does. But...  come on, the least the son of a mudscuffer could do is flirt back if he was gonna fucking undress you with his eyes like that. 

Or maybe that was just your imagination, too. 

You sigh, scanning a shelf on the back wall for a ruge that will make a convincing enough dupe. A synthetic varietal, perhaps. No--too cheap. You’ve got something from a Naboo vineyard in here somewhere. Anyways, whatever, since when are you desperate for any man’s attention?

No, okay, it’s... you know that isn’t what this is really about. 

It would just be nice to feel important, is all. Like the secrets you’ve gathered might be worth something. Could someday give you a place in something bigger. Or at least like anything about you might be worth more than equivalent to a shot of shitty spotchka. 

Forget it. As if that will ever happen.

Your finger absently traces the dusty label of a bottle, and then a soft clink of metal behind you freezes your blood. 

You whip around to meet a wall of beskar, inches from your face.

You start to scream, but the sound catches in your throat when a big hand seizes you by the back of the neck and wrenches you around, bending you at the hips and slamming you chest-down against the stale wood of a storage crate. Cold metal presses your thighs and your heart smacks your ribs, your body completely trapped under Boba Fett’s mass in one motion. 

“I said I need information, little one, and you’re going to give it to me.” His voice scrapes over your body, sliding through the dim room like the shadow from a candle flame. You quail beneath him, brain racing with shock.

“I d-don’t—ugh!” The weight of his forearm comes down between your shoulder blades, pressing breathy little grunts from your lungs as you squirm. “I don’t sell out my customers.”

You freeze when the distinct click of a blaster registers right at your temple. 

“Never said I was buying.”

Panic zips down your spine, your chest heaving against the wooden crate as heat slams your core. Somewhere, your rational brain is scrambling to parse the threat, but something about the sheer filth and danger of it is setting your whole body on fire, making far more primal nerves come alive. Trying to shake the feeling, you squirm.

“At lea--ngh, least nothing’s changed there.”

Fucking hell, what are you doing? Besides sassing the known murderer with a blaster currently trained at your head, alone in a dark room. Yet somehow that very fact is making arousal bloom so wicked and fast that you can already start to feel your cunt throb against the fabric of his pants. 

“Willing to die to protect a few spineless slime crawlers who don’t even know your name?” Boba rocks his weight against you, powerful and lazy in the way he simply leans into his hips, grinds them up hard against your ass to keep you flattened over the edge of the crate. “Boss man lines his pockets while his good little pet works for scraps.” Air feels more scarce to your lungs by the second. “Interesting, how your loyalties lie.”

Indignance flares up your spine.

“I w-ouldn’t expect you to understand.” You try to put venom in the words, but it’s difficult between your breathlessness and the sheer eroticism of this position you’re in. “Small price to pay, f-for a good life.”

Through your annoyance, you can’t help feeling a twinge of enjoyment at his solidity, at how you can just discern the outline of him through his pants. An excited thrum of your pulse snaps to your core like a fuse.

Above you, Boba Fett chuckles.

“Is that what he gives you?” There’s a mockery to his tone that heats your blood, and you start to squirm in defiance before remembering the blaster at your temple. Fett simply crushes you harder, drawing your attention back to his crotch. “Seems to me like you’re the mouse in his attic.”

“I suppose you’re better than him? Than any of them?” you immediately bite, not wanting to acknowledge the truth behind his words. Instead, you grab that spark of bravery and crank the voltage until it drowns your doubt, throwing your caution to the stars faster than punching an airlock in hyperspace. “Do you even know m-my name, Mando?” A tiny giggle ripples your chest. “I know yours.”

“Might be the last one you know,” Boba growls, but you’re becoming fixated on his cock now, the way you could swear that it’s growing more distinct by the second.

Fear and pleasure wrack your brain, the combination intensifying so deliciously with the pressure of his groin against your ass that you can hardly think straight any more. In a moment of sick indulgence, you arch your back and shift just slightly, wanting to feel that pressure against something now pulsing and sensitive. 

The grip on your neck locks tight, and your breath stops. 

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, princess.” 

He kicks your legs apart and crushes his hardening bulge against your pussy. And, fuck, you moan. You don’t even mean to, but the thrill of helplessness has you so mindlessly turned on that you can’t stop the noise from squeezing out of your throat.

“Filthy little thing you are.” 

There’s a shift in his tone now. The vice hold disappears from your nape just before your pants are wrenched unceremoniously over your ass and down to mid thigh. You gasp at the feeling of air brushing your bare lips. He takes a moment, and you think he must be looking at you. Heat blossoms from your face all the way down to your chest, and then he’s against you again, a palm coming down between your shoulders as coarse fabric presses flush with your cunt. 

You can really feel the outline of his cock now, hard enough to rival his armor but warm and thick against you, and you whimper. It’s only a click that snaps your awareness back to the weapon pointed at your head. 

“Let’s try this again, little mouse.” Boba’s voice comes lower and airier through the vocoder now in a way that blazes right through you. “You give me what I want, and perhaps you’ll inspire my generosity.”

In emphasis of his intent, he rocks his erection against the cleft of your pussy. Your eyes snap wide, an almost painful stab of arousal making you immediately whine louder than you intend to. “Fuck--oh, please!”

“Careful.” His hand slides up your neck, angling your face so that he can see it twist in shame and pleasure. “Wouldn’t want anyone finding you like this.”

Your cheeks blaze. Shallow breaths stutter in your lungs as his thumb tugs the pillow of your lower lip. And then he releases you, his hand moving back somewhere you can’t sense. The pressure against your ass shifts for a moment, just before the wide, hot shaft of his bare cock caresses your cunt.

“Last night there was a man here, Mon Cala, middle aged.” Your body is on fire as he speaks, the skin to skin contact dousing your brain in blind want. You grit your teeth, screw your eyes shut, trying hard to focus on what he’s saying while your pussy twinges around nothing. “He talked to the owner here, then he met with someone. Tell me who.”

A reluctant whimper leaves your lips, and the noise might just be one of the most pathetic you’ve ever made as your tongue still stubbornly refuses to slip. But Fett’s words ring again through your head with a resentful pang: the mouse in his attic. Is that what you’ll die as?

At your temple, the blaster’s safety disengages.

“Fuck! Okay, okay.” Your breath comes heavily, brain uncertain and lust-addled, fumbling for the details. “He um. Met a--mmh, a woman, I d-didn’t catch her name. Please--” Your voice trails off in a soft whine, your hips shifting back, trying to find the means to swallow his cock where it teases your tender core, entice him with the diversion now that you’ve given him a crumb.

“You must be dumber than I took you for, sweetling.” His hips retreat slightly, evading you. The sheer display of restraint is infuriating, electrifying. It shallows your breath with need. He stills again, a rough, gloved hand running firmly up your spine, pushing your shirt up to bare more of your skin to his view. “Tell me the rest.”

Your teeth set with a final, feeble whine of hesitation. More instinct than anything. But then a cold ring of metal presses your temple, and fresh fear unbinds your tongue in a deluge.

“S-she had, ah--civilian clothes, but, um… an Imperial s-standard issue blaster.” Your eyes screw in concentration, details flickering like a glitchy holocom through your brain. “I heard them talk about, uh. A shipment. For… Fuck, uh. Th-three cycles from now.”

Boba hums, a sound that makes your eyes roll back as you feel yourself nearly dripping against him, your slick coating his cock where it just barely parts you.

“Smart girl.” His hand drags indulgently down your back, coming to rest on your hip and squeezing. “Where’s the shipment going, princess?”

Torture. This is some kind of galactic war crime, you’re sure of it. Pleasure surges from your teased cunt and his grip on your flesh, and his voice is almost soothing now, coaxing you further towards complacency. It’s all too much. Your head rests against the crate, defeat washing in a gentle tide over you. 

“Going... to Hosnian Prime.”

A soft, satisfied puff of noise comes from the modulator. The barrel retreats from your temple. 

“Now, there’s a good girl.”

Warmth crashes through your lower belly, a strange and exhilarating sensation that suddenly makes you want to... purr? No one has ever spoken to you like this, and it’s tickling a part of your brain that feels far, far too good. But then his cock glides thick and heavy along your folds, obliterating your thoughts, and all you can think about is having that inside of you. 

“Fuck,” you whine as he slowly aligns himself, teasing up and down the drenched, tender flesh of your pussy. He takes his time, massaging the blunt head over your clit and sending little shocks through your muscles, making you shiver and clench. “Please, please…” 

“Tame little creature when you want to be,” he grits, pressing against your entrance with an exhaled groan. “Keep being good for me.” 

Slowly, he starts to push. And, oh, fuck.

You’re not ready. 

You’re wetter and needier than you’ve ever been in your life, and you’re still not fucking ready to take a cock like this one when it crushes in and stretches you, setting an ache through your hips that tells you whatever happens, you’re bound to feel him for days. 

A cry sticks in your throat and you will yourself to breathe, to relax as he sinks in further, forcing your walls to flutter and part around him. It truly feels like being broken open, and your fingers have to dig into the wood beneath you when he pulls out an inch and then pushes again, sinking deeper this time as a choked noise pulls through the vocoder.

By the time he finally bottoms out, you swear you can feel him shifting your guts. Every muscle in your pelvis is straining to take him, the intensity mind-numbing already. You’re nearly choking on your own attempts to breathe while he pauses, sheathed like this for a few moments, seeming to concentrate on his own breathing at the same time. 

And then his voice comes again, a growl, pitched even lower and more ferocious than before through a clutched breath. 

“Fuck, you’re a tight little thing.” 

Stars.

This is different.

It’s so hard to think, you’ve never felt more full, but something in the back of your mind is unfurling, turning hot and primal with a roiling kind of need that burgeons and begs at the feeling of his cock rooted so fucking deep inside of you. You’ve had sex before, sure, but this…

You’re about to get fucked. 

“Please…” you mewl. Desperation pierces you when you feel his fingers flex strong and firm around your hip in response. You turn your head, trying to glimpse him--only to realize that the blaster is still right next to your face, its angle nonchalant, close enough to brush your lips. 

Your mind is so drenched in lust, the first urge that strikes you is to stick out your tongue and wet the metal, its sharp alloy piercing your senses and making your pussy seize with the shudder of danger.

In your periphery, you see the visor snap to attention, like he wasn’t fully looking at you before, lost in his own pleasure. But now he is. And he gives the weapon an experimental twist, allowing for your lips to wrap, delicate and wet, just around the tip of the barrel.

“Fearless little mouse.” There’s something dark and charged in his voice. “You look good like that.”

A slight wiggle to open your jaw, and the blaster shoves past your lips, resting thick and cold on your tongue, lighting your spine with a new thrill. Your voice swells on a muffled moan around it, such a soft and lovely sound to accompany a thing that’s orchestrated countless deaths. 

“There we are. Nice and quiet now.” 

Finally, finally, he starts to thrust, slow and measured, forcing your body to yield around the width of him. Something burns hot in your belly with each steady stroke, wiping your brain of everything but his presence.

The rough material of a glove smothers one of your asscheeks, grips and pulls at the pillowy flesh, spreading you open as his thrusts take up a steady, powerful rhythm. Boba Fett lets out a long groan, and you can only imagine the view he has right now. It sears you alive, the knowledge that he likes looking at you like this, pitching and whimpering with his rhythm, the sight of your pussy stretched, helpless around his cock and your mouth wetting his blaster. 

Your spit slicks the barrel more with every thrust, and you can feel the mechanics shifting dangerously between your lips. But his trigger finger is steadier than death, and his control gives you the nerve to let your tongue lick out along the barrel, bathe in the electric wash of fear that sets all of your nerves into overdrive.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he snarls as his pace starts to kick up wilder. 

Intense pleasure cracks through you now, visceral in a way you’ve never felt, and it’s all you can do to keep relatively quiet. The barrel on your tongue is a sharp enough reminder, yet it fuels your arousal to burn hotter and wetter all the same. The more you concentrate on the powerful bliss coiling in your core and rippling outwards, the more you can feel yourself starting to tighten around him, your body yearning vaguely towards a release it can’t seem to center on.

You hear him groan as you squeeze him, his grip on your flesh flexing and shifting. A few more strong thrusts, and then his cock pulls all the way out of you with a woeful pang, the blaster vacating your mouth in the same motion to leave you empty, dizzied and clenching. But before you can unscramble your brain, the blaster slots back into its holster and he’s moving you. With an effortless kind of control, he flips you over, shifting you until the solid wood of the crate supports your ass.

He hikes both of your legs onto one shoulder and in one swift, easy motion, whisks your pants over your shoes and off of your ankles, tossing them carelessly into the darkness of the room before hooking your legs around his armored waist.

“Going to watch you cum, princess. Nice and pretty.”

Your mouth opens on a gasp at his words, and a gloved thumb immediately presses your tongue, the taste of leather and plasma residue grounding your senses enough to register that he’s lining his cock back up at the heat of your entrance. You whine around his thick digit, and he growls somewhere low in his chest as he pushes the thick head back in, this new angle making you see stars all over again. 

He doesn’t bother letting you adjust this time, just uses your wetness to his advantage to start railing through your tightness, burning and stretching you as that warm swell starts to crest again. It’s such a deep, full feeling, spreading a delicious ache from the spot where he hits you deep in your tummy. 

Your brows draw together, your whines pitching higher as you search the visor. It’s a wordless plea, your vision swallowed by the power of him fucking you deep, your body now screaming to cum but needing something you can’t quite pinpoint.

The hunter’s thumb slips out of your mouth, his hand forging an eager path down your body. He palms your tit over your shirt, before grabbing the low collar and yanking it down, baring your nipples to his view one after the other. His whole hand spans your torso as he hooks the lower hem with his thumb, bunching the material until both your belly and tits are bare, your shirt like a handle at your diaphragm that he uses to pound you even harder, watching your body jolt, overpowered by his thrusts.

Airy little wails brush through your lips, the pleasure all too intense and not enough at the same time. You can’t take it anymore, you need something on your clit, and your fingers twitch to seek out that precious target. But he’s already moving, his hips slowing to a lazier pace while his free hand finds some destination at his belt, and what he produces freezes you in your tracks.

“Steady now,” he breathes as he slips a long blade out of his belt and spins it by the hilt, his fingers almost too quick, too tactful for such a brute. 

Instinctual panic grips you at the sight of the weapon, making your legs try to close. But he’s pushed too deep in you, his frame has you pinned open, and there’s nothing you can do against the sheer breadth of his body. Powerless, you simply whimper.

“Wh… what are y--”

“Hush, princess.” 

A flick of his thumb and the vibroblade springs to life, its hum filling the quiet air. He starts to bring the blunt hilt of it down where your body yields to his. Alarm pierces you one final time, but then he touches the pommel, just barely, against the tender swell of your clit.

You want to fucking scream. As if in anticipation of this, he claps his hand over your mouth just in time for you to bite down on his glove while your eyes roll back in a powerful wave of ecstasy. The vibrations surge through the sensitive nerves, lighting your whole body up in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s pure bliss, and then a low, long growl slips through the helmet’s modulator at the feeling of your walls pulsing tight, strangling his cock. 

His thrusts deepen again, powerful and steady, stroking some devastating spot deep inside you. Your muffled wails get lost in the breath-dampened fabric of his glove while the intense pleasure crests from your clit, higher, higher, lasering in on that intangible cusp and barreling you straight towards it.

You suspend at the peak, all senses failing, and then your orgasm takes you in a riptide, surging through your nerves like liquid fire. The magnitude of it rends you, stronger than you’ve ever felt, dragging you under and forcing you to ride it out while it just pulls and pulls. By the time you regain your sight you’re shaking, waves of bliss still pulsing and crashing through your body in time to the strong rhythm of his hips, the glowing epicenter that unwavering vibration at your clit. 

Sobs wrack your chest, pour out high and lose themselves somewhere in the meat of his hand, and you think you try to catch a few breaths, but you can’t even come down. Boba’s voice cuts through the rush in your ears.

“Good. Good girl.” 

He holds the buzzing hilt of the blade impossibly steady against your clit and that glow is still so bright, twitching, starting to spill through your nerves again and holy shit you think you just might--

“Again.”

Your second orgasm shreds you like a plasma cannon.

You’re blind, numb to everything but the intense pleasure, nerves now as raw and sharp as the edge of the blade itself. His hand is tight over your face and you feel your cunt convulsing and gushing around his cock, slick cum spilling to wet your asscheeks, and it must be your own because his pace hasn’t let up. 

A clatter resounds on the edge of your consciousness and when your eyes come into focus, Boba’s hand is locking into your waist, the blade discarded somewhere in the room. His hips piston hard with a few vulgar slaps of flesh, the head of his cock crushing against your deepest parts before he wrenches out of you and spills over your bare stomach with a strangled roar, gripping himself at the base and thrusting against you as warm, thick ropes paint your skin.

His release is long. Grunts distort into rough static through the vocoder as he rides out the last pulses, until finally he braces himself on the crate beside your head, hunched over you like a beast, his chest plate rolling with heavy breaths. You can only blink at him through hazed, damp eyes, your body feeling weak and utterly fucked dumb. The hand over your mouth slowly unlocks its grip, dragging downwards and leaving you to take shallow gulps of air while he gives your tit a deliberate squeeze. 

And then he drags himself off of you, straightening with an almost-concealed groan as he adjusts himself and leaves you to blink at the dark ceiling, still letting oxygen find your brain. 

When you shakily manage to sit up, you just glimpse him slipping the discarded vibroblade back into his belt and turning towards the door. Even through your dizziness, you scoff. Figures. Bastard is just going to fuck your brains out and then leave you like this.

“You know,” you sigh, watching him and lazily trailing your fingers in a circle on your tummy, enjoying the lingering buzz of your skin and gathering a bit of his spend where it coats you, still warm. “I’d say that tip-off was at least worth a handful of credits in my jar on your way out.”

He turns and looks at you then, the helmet cocking in consideration for a moment. As soon as his attention is on you, your fingers move from his mess on your belly to your mouth, where you slowly suckle him off of your fingers, never once taking your eyes off the visor, a tiny ripple of playfulness wiggling your shoulders and curling your lips.

His shoulders square to you, and that hunter’s stance still makes your chest seize, sends a pulse to your exhausted pussy.

Metal clinks softly as he walks towards you, stepping between your knees until you’re forced to drop your hand from your mouth and look up at him, heart fluttering again. He brushes the knuckle of his forefinger under your chin.

“Fresh out.”

His back turns as you stare, speechless. And then the door swings on its hinges, and Boba Fett is gone.

[tummy-stuffing-king]

All Day Stuffing: Chapter 2- Lunch

Chapter 1

For lunch, you go to a Mexican restaurant. As you and your partner settle into the red vinyl booth, the waiter approaches with a basket of chips and a couple small saucers of salsa.

“What can I get you guys to drink today?” he asks as he sets them down. 

“They’ll have a coke, and just a water for me.” your partner says before you can even open your mouth. They flash you a grin and you smile in return.

“Great, anything else?”

“A large bowl of queso as well, please” your partner replies.

“Alright, that’ll be out in just a minute.” Your partner thanks them as they head off to the kitchen.

At the thought of queso, your mouth begins to water, despite the lingering fullness from breakfast. You can feel your belly pressing lightly against the waistband of your jeans and your abdomen is nicely rounded under the maternity shirt. You already have the beginnings of a muffin top poking out. 

“Here. These are for you.” Your partner pushes the basket of chips across the table to you. You groan as the smell hits you. They’re still warm, and the smell of oil and salt is mesmerizing.

You pick up a chip but pause. “You don’t want any?”

They smile. “I’ll steal a couple, but remember it’s my job today to feed you, darling. And I want you to be eating these chips from now until your entree gets her, and finish off the last basket after that too, got it?”

You nod in faux seriousness. “Aye aye captain.” With that you scoop up some salsa and shove the oversized chip in your mouth. As you eat, you rest your hand on your belly, feeling as it ever so slowly expands. At some point the water drops off your soda and a new basket of chips, along with the queso, and you eagerly dig in. The cheese is thick and spicy and delicious, and you can feel your belly grow with every bubbly sip of coke. 

The waiter comes by again as you’re nearing the end of the second basket of chips. The queso is long gone, and you’re on the third bowl of salsa. 

“Are you ready to order?” It seems as though he may be eyeing you, but you refuse to acknowledge it and shove another chip in your mouth.

“Yeah, they’ll have the triple enchilada meal with beans and rice, and I will have the steak burrito.”

“Great choice. Would you like some more chips before that comes out?”

Your partner glances at you before replying and their lips twitch into a smile. “Yes please.”

“I’ll be right back with that then.” he says, and steps away. 

You scrounge up the last few chip shards in the bottom of the basket and drop them into your mouth before sighing and leaning back, your hand absently rubbing your stomach. 

“Oh don’t tell me you’re full already,” your partner teases, watching your hand on your belly.

“No.” You sit upright again, but pause wincing. Your meal hasn’t even come yet and your jeans are already painfully tight against your midsection, and there’s a very noticeable muffin top below your ribs. “No, I’m not, I just need to free up some space is all.” As discreetly as you can, you reach under your belly-molded shirt to undo your pants button. As it comes loose, the zipper slides down of its own accord and your tummy plops onto your thighs, heavy and soft. You pull down the hem of your shirt and tuck it up underneath your belly, creating a very clear outline of it under the stretchy material. 

“Whew, much better.” You give your belly a couple pats for good measure, and lean forward in your seat, putting your elbows on the table and resting your chin on your hands.

“Good.” Your partner leans forward as well. “It would be a shame for you to fill up now when there’s still so much growing to do.” They reach out their hand as if to try and touch your stomach, but stop halfway across the table. You’re too far away here, and this isn’t the place anyways. They’d be able to touch you properly later. 

The waiter returns with more chips and a new round of drinks, and you get back to work. This food isn’t going to eat itself after all. You mindlessly down chip after chip, taking sips of your coke every few bites as your partner watches, eyes flicking between your stomach and your face. 

There are only a few chips left when the waiter returns holding your entrees. You both scramble to shove debris out of the way so he can set down your plates, and sit up in anticipation. 

“Careful, they’re hot,” he says as he lays them down on the table. “Will you be needing anything else?”

“Just some more refills,” your partner replies. “Thank you.”

As the waiter heads off again, you unwrap your utensils from their napkin and survey your plate. The three enchiladas are all different flavours, one sour cream, one salsa verde, and one mole, each filled with a different meat as well. 

You start with the sour cream, the chicken inside savoury and roasted to perfection, full of onions and peppers and exploding with spices. You moan with delight as the flavours mix and contrast to perfection, and before you know it the whole thing is gone. Desperately you scoop up the last of the sauce left on the plate.

“Woah now, slow down there, you don’t want to fill yourself up too quick. You have to save room for the rest of it.”

You lean back and take a couple gulps of your soda before letting out a belch, barely stifled by your hand. “Oops, ‘scuse me.” The pressure in your gut relents somewhat, but you lean back for a minute, rubbing your belly and letting it settle before you go back for more. 

“Don’t get too overeager or you won’t be able to enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me enjoying myself. Believe me, that’s the furthest concern from my mind.”

You let out another burp as you sit back up straight, scooting forward again in the booth. Before you can regain your position, however, your belly bumps against the edge of the table. Sitting up, your belly now protrudes far out onto your lap. You hadn’t even noticed, you were so enraptured by the food.

You glance up and your partner is staring, a flush creeping across their cheeks. They clear their throat, trying to collect themself. “I guess you really are starting to fill out that shirt, huh?”

You look down again. It was true; the formerly loose folds of the maternity shirt were now stretched taut in the middle, a smooth dome resting upon your lap.

“What, this?” you ask, pushing your hands between your belly and your thighs. “This isn’t all that much.” You lift your hands a couple times, feeling the new weight, several pounds pushing your abdomen outward, watching the loose muscles jiggle just a bit. There wasn’t much give with so much food packed inside. Despite your words, your stomach is actually quite full, and you can feel the pressure of it just below your chest and the slight strain on your back. You pick up your fork and lean forward. These enchiladas aren’t going to eat themselves, after all. 

You eat the other two enchiladas, rubbing your belly continuously, partially to help soothe it, but mostly because you simply can’t keep your hands off of your growing gut. The feeling of your usually flat stomach, now distended, is a marvel. You keep running your hand along it, down the sides and up over the top, just to feel how expansive it is, how much you’ve managed to change it in such a short period of time. 

Before you know it your plate is empty except for the last traces of sauce along the bottom. You let out a sigh and lean back in your seat again. The movement reminds you sharply of the discomfort of your gut, the heavy weight of it pressing in on your lungs and stretching your abdominals to their max. 

You look up at your partner, tearing your eyes away from the mound of your belly, and find them looking back across the table at you. Half their burrito is still on their plate.A slow smile spreads across their face.

When dessert arrives, a heaping plate of soft, sugary sopapillas, you can’t stop yourself. Despite the shortness of breath and the persistent ache in your middle and the growing sleepiness you are beginning to succumb to, it simply takes more willpower than you possess to resist. Your partner knows this. You know your partner knows this. And as the honey drips down your face and hands you can’t help but moan and continue until the plate is empty.

When you finally shove the platter away and attempt to clean yourself of the sticky residue, you are panting. The last few bites had been difficult to swallow and you can still feel them resisting the confines of your stomach, but you hold in a burp and force them to settle.

At length the dishes are cleared away and the bill is paid and it is time to leave. You stand from the booth, wavering slightly at the altered center of gravity, before your partner catches your arm and glides their hand around your waist. As you make your way out of the restaurant, their hand rubs discreet circles against your side as you lean against them. The zipper of your jeans is spread wide under your shirt and biting in slightly to the tender flesh of your belly. The maternity shirt could hardly be called oversized now. 

You’re tight and uncomfortable, but also sated in a way you rarely get to be. Settling into the car, contentment washes over you and drowsiness pulls you down before you’ve even left the parking lot.

[waywardscorpio]

His Queen & Her King

Taglist: @callmekda @braunstrowmangirl @phoenixoffiretwo @luna-loo @scuzmunkie @fanfiction-san​ @superdakotawinchesterus​

Chapter 2

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, Pissed off Jeff, Readers Dad Triple H, Godfather Shawn Michaels and Uncles Kane and Undertaker, Pregnant!Reader kidnapped.

*Third Person POV*

*A month after the road trip and Jeff, putting another bundle of joy inside his mate*

Y/N was walking through the hallway of the arena while she had one hand on her belly and the other carrying her bag of food and drink. Her baby belly was a little more noticeable now. "Hey Y/N" Undertaker said. "Hey, Uncle Taker." She said looking up at him. "How are you doing?" She asked. "I'm doing fine. How are you and the little ones doing?" She looked up at him confused; because she thought she was only pregnant with one. "The doctor only said, one baby." She said softly. "You don't know do you?" He asked her. "Know what?" She asked. "You're a very rare type of human omega that can get pregnant even though you're already pregnant. It isn't dangerous to you or the babies. But it will put you in danger. Some Alpha's will do whatever it takes to have you and that includes holding you captive and breeding you to make soldiers or a small army" He said. He's older than some people actually know. "But I won't let any harm you." Taker said to her before walking down the hallway.

Y/N, let the words from Undertaker go around and around in her head as she walks to Jeff's locker room. "Hey, Babe." He replied as she walked into the room. "Hey, Darlin'," Y/N replied back to her as she was looking at him from across the room. "We need to have a talk tonight after work." She said to him as she looks at him. "Are you okay? Is the baby hurt? What is wrong?" Jeff said standing up and moving swiftly towards his love. "I am okay. The baby is okay. We just need to talk. I'm not leaving you before you even ask that question next." She said as she looks up at him rubbing his cheek. Jeff relaxed into her soft gentle touch.

"I think you should stay near Undertaker for my match. I have a feeling something is off and it gonna get ugly tonight." Jeff said getting an unsettling feeling that something isn't bad is going to happen and Jeff trusted Undertaker with Y/N's life more than anyone besides her parents. "But I'm supposed to go out there with you tonight Baby," Y/N said to him as she looked at him. "I know Babe, I want you to go out there too. But I have an uneasy feeling that something is going to happen tonight and I don't want you getting in the line of fire or our baby." Jeff said walking to her and carefully rubbing her belly. "Alright, I'll stay by Undertaker tonight." She said looking up at him.

Jeff walked Y/N to where Undertaker was at so, he knew she made it there safely and unharmed. "Hey Taker. Is it okay that she stays with you? I have an uneasy feeling that something is going to happen." He said looking at the taller male. "Yes, she is more than welcome." He said as he looks at a very reluctant Y/N. "As soon as my fight is over Baby, I will be right back here before going anywhere else." He said kissing her lips gently rubbing her cheek and her belly. "Please be careful out there tonight" She said resting her head against his chest. "I will Baby." Jeff said promising the love of his life he would be careful.

Jeff, walked out to the ring getting ready to fight tonight. "This match will be turned into 4 on 4 tag team match. It will be Jeff, Matt, Triple H and Shawn Michaels Vs Edge, Christian, Sheamus and Finn Balor." Lillian announce to the crowd and viewers at home to hear. Y/N's head shot up looking at the tv wide eyes. "No, that wasn't the match he was supposed to be in. Who changed it?" She exclaims looking up at Taker who grabs her hand and heading towards Stephanie's office. "Momma, Dad can't fight and Uncle Shawn can't either." Y/N held her belly on instinct. "I tried to stop the match before it was made. Someone changed it before consulting with us first. Nothing I can do to change it." Steph was furious that someone did this and was about to rip someone a new asshole. "Uncle Taker and Kane please take Daddy's and Uncle Shawn places. They can't fight and the person knows that. They'll be at a disadvantage." She pleads at the two males. Kane looks at Undertaker. "I'll fight tonight." Taker was having a internal battle with himself because he told Jeff, Y/N wouldn't leave his side till the match was over. "Please Uncle Taker" Y/N began to cry in desperation. "Okay Lil One. I will do it. But on the condition you stay by your mother at all times no mater what. Jeff will just have to understand." He said walking out with Kane, and heading to the ring. "I promise" She called out. She hugged her mother tightly. "I got you Baby Girl" She said hushing her Childs cries.

Lightening rang through the arena as Takers music came on and fire surrounds the ring. Jeff sees Kane and Undertaker walking down the ramp. "I have been informed that Triple H and Shawn, will be taken out the match and Undertaker and Kane will be put into the match instead." Lillian announce but silently sighs in relief. "Y/N is supposed to be with you" Jeff said to Taker quietly. "Calm Jeff. She begged us to come out because she knew you'd be at a disadvantage since her Daddy Triple H and uncle Shawn are still healing from two weeks ago. She didn't want you guys to take a chance yourselves considering you two have a tag team title match coming at WrestleMania." Kane said. "I much rather my pregnant mate be safe than myself." Jeff said. Kane and Taker understood his point but also couldn't leave their fellow wrestlers defenseless. "She is safe I promise you. She is with her mother and her momma's ready to rip someone a new Asshole." Undertaker said to him.

Jeff didn't fight with the older man. He knew Y/N, was safe either way. As the match got started Matt and Edge started it off. They didn't hold back on each other either. Lefts and rights were thrown hard and on purpose. "Come on Matt" Kane holler holding his hand out for Matt to tag him in. Matt kicked him Edge in the ribs which gave him the leverage he needed to get away from him so he can tag in Kane. Kane steps over the ropes and started hitting Edge with right, Lefts and wasn't giving him any breathing room. Edge uppercuts Kane when he gets the chance which stuns him and Edge is able to tag in Balor. He has a advantage for a few seconds before Jeff was tagged in and went to town on Balor. Jeff was letting his anger out on his opponent. "You got this Jeff come on" Matt said cheering on his brother. Jeff had twisted his arm behind him and leads him to his corner to tag in the Undertaker.

The match was drawing to a end when Undertaker was tagged back in. He hit Christian with the Tombstone Piledriver and with a count of three Jeff and the others got in the ring raising the Undertakers hand who won them the match. After the mini celebration in the ring everyone walked out. Edge stops Jeff to give him a message. "Hey look I know we aren't the best of friends but I wanna let you know that I saw someone watching your car earlier after you guys got here and someone was following Y/N. It is someone new because I don't know the persons face or scent." Edge said. "Thank you, Edge. I have an uneasy feeling tonight's not over with. whoever made this match done it on purpose but didn't expect Kane and Undertaker to step in." Jeff said to him. "Lita has been uneasy all night worried saying they're coming but didn't get to see their faces when she had a vision. Just be safe." Edge said before walking over to Lita. Jeff mouths a thank you to her. She only nodded her head in response.

Jeff walked to his mother-n-laws office and walked in. "Hey Baby. How are you and the baby?" Jeff asked his mate as he rubbed her back and belly knowing she is tired. "We are perfect. Just tired. How much longer till we can go home?" She asks her mate. "We will be staying with someone for a while. Just got a message from a friend that someone has been watching us and following." Jeff said to Y/N. She whimpered a little in fear. "What?" They heard Steph say. "Baby go get your stuff while I talk to your mom and dad okay?" She nods her head softly. Undertaker was in ear lengths and stayed near her walking her to the dressing room to get her things while Jeff talked to her parents. "Edge stopped me after the match to let me know that people have been following me and Y/N since we been here, and that the scent is unfamiliar and not known around here. He also mentioned Lita had a vision that someone is coming but she couldn't see their faces." Jeff said to Triple H and Steph. "Why are they after you or her or both of you?" Steph asked. "I don't know but I think is has something to do with her being pregnant by me." He said to her. "Whatever it takes you protect her, you here me?" Triple H said to him. "Yes Sir. I'll give my last breath to protect her if that's what it take for her to live." Jeff said unknowing that that statement was about to be put to the test.

While Jeff is taking to Steph and Triple H, Y/N is getting her stuff ready to go when the lights in the building suddenly shut off and came back on. In a blink of an eye Y/N was gone. Jeff ran down the hallway to his dressing room. "Holy hell. Taker are you good?" Jeff asked helping him up. "I was hit over the head after the lights went out. When they came back on she was gone." He said to Jeff, holding the back of his head. "It is newbies trying to rise up through the business so, their going after one of the top dogs here. Y/N's going to be their pawn to use as an advantage. They know no, one will do anything to harm her but they know you will go looking for her. If it comes down to it they'll do unspeakable things to her. Especially since they know she is able to get pregnant multiple times at once. She is a Human Omega it is rare for ones like her to be able to carry more than one baby at a time." Undertaker said to Jeff. Jeff paces thinking at what way he can approach this with out his Omega Mate getting hurt. "Jeff you aren't in this alone." Shawn said walking in the room with Kane, walking over to his brother and checking the back of his head. "We will fight with you over her" Triple H said. "Just be ready for a battle to start." Steph said.

"The battle started the minute the took her." Jeff said calm and deadly. Steph smiled to her husband knowing they picked a good man for their daughter. Jeff walked out to the ring and grabbed a mic. He was careful and tactical with his words even with how angry he was. He won't give the kidnappers the satisfaction to see his pain because once he does they have the power. "You come here" He said to a camera man. "Sir?" he said stepping in the ring with Jeff. "I want you to tape this live." He said. The male nods his head in fear sensing the anger and absolute power dripping off the man. He put the cam on his shoulder and began to tape. "I hope you sick fuckers are listening. You think it was wise for you take a mans pregnant mate. Especially a dangerous man like me who will stop at nothing to get her back. You wanted a battle? A battle you can't possibly come out standing on top. We will see who is left standing when I am done with you because you opened the gates of hell and stepped into my cage!!!" He said looking into the cam. "I won't be alone when I get my hands on you."

"Just know if she has so much as a scratch on her.. Well I show just how sadistic I am when I'm provoked or pushed." Jeff said. "Oh one more thing. Y/N Darlin' I'm coming for you." He adds. She heard her Alpha on the tv and she smiles to herself knowing the men that took her are about to know why Jeff is one of the most feared men in the Wwe besides Undertaker and Kane. "What are you smiling about whore?" One said. "You fucked up. You'll see just what he is going to do to you

[thesimperiuscurse]

THE CHALLENGE — show a certain part of your story process based on you being tagged by other creators. 

Thank you @herpixels for tagging me in your wonderful challenge! Here’s a behind-the-scenes essay for En Pointe ❤

WRITING PROCESS — show us a part of your script or explain how you write your scenes. do you write in screenplay format or novel format?

I write in novel format, and have a very methodical process. I have a Planning Notebook which covers all the general elements of the story; cast list + descriptions, main plot, themes, overviews of all chapters, timeline, world + settings information, research links, and a massive section with all my notes on relationships, character styles, history, writing goals, arcs, and most crucially, what to avoid from the absolute fucking mess of Fallen Angels. 

At the smaller scale, before writing, I plan out each chapter in my Chapter Workbook. First is the Outline, which is a synopsis of the main events. Going off that, I write a list of Chapter Shots which describes in writing all the pictures; what kind of shot it is (long, over-the-shoulder, etc), the location + atmosphere, and what the characters are doing. Corresponding to these I list the Poses, for each character and what expression they have. I then write a To Do List for what sets to build, new sims to make, number of poses to create, the cc I have to find or make. The final section is Details, which notes down all the little things I have to remember; running gags, nuances, and themes; current state of relationships and character arcs to keep track of their development; what my aims are for character perceptions + issues I need to fix from the last chapter. This section is super important to make sure the story unfolds smoothly and revelations make sense, or else I get something abrupt like Mako x Raven, because I didn’t foreshadow clearly or early enough in advance. Here are snippets of what this looks like:

Once I finish all this planning (the current word count of the two documents is 20k lmfao), then I begin writing. It’s a lot less structured because I just start with the most exciting scenes or ones I’ve been thinking about for a while. I organise the paragraphs according to the Chapter Shots. A bit of light editing then the writing is ready to publish! 

SCENE BUILDING — show us you in the middle of scene building through pictures, gifs, or a video. explain what is the best thing about scene building and what is the worst!

I dislike scene building because TS3′s weak ass makes everything so tedious. I have a Pinterest board to inspire the settings. The worst part is definitely when the game moves at 0.001 m/s and crashes, which happens far too often and pisses me off. Here’s a screenshot I accidentally took when setting up the big family dinner scene in Chapter 8. I tried my best to minimise the amount of sims that were actually there because I take shortcuts whenever possible. Crowd scenes suck. 

CC + POSE MAKING — do you make your own cc/poses for your scene? If so, what is your process like to create? do you just go off the top of your head? do you use reference photos?

I make all the poses that aren’t singular and ‘normal’, due to height differences and also so I can achieve my exact vision. Depending on the length of the chapter, this can range from 20-50 poses, which is looking to be around 700 poses by the story finale. I try to find reference photos (essential for ballet poses) when I can to make them look natural. I also convert or mesh clothing + objects, but I’m lazy so I often cheat with Photoshop. 

GETTING IN THE ZONE — what do you do to get in the zone to work on a scene? examples include: show us your playlist you use when working on a scene, what’s your go-to scene snack/drink, etc.

I don’t actually have anything for this. If I don’t feel like doing a particular task on the To Do List I just try something else. Sometimes I listen to Eva and Mako’s playlists when working though, and there are certain songs I associate with certain parts of the story which help me when I’m thinking of them. 

SCREENSHOT FOLDER — give us a look into your screenshot folder to show us just how much goes into one scene for your story. scrapped pictures encouraged!

I also have a linear method for pictures. Firstly, I create the poses, and test them in a blank background, which is when I figure out the most flattering angles, and edit the poses if needed. After that I begin series of test shots in the actual set, redoing up to three times until it looks passable. Since I use natural light almost every shot has a double (or even triple), with outdoor lighting for the environment and controlled interior lighting for the sims, which is then spliced together along with other atmospheric editing. There’s a lot of screenshots to ‘build’ the final visual but I rarely have alternative or scrapped finals because that would be a terrible waste of time. Why do I do this ridiculously tedious process? Because I’m stupid. 

CAPTIONS — are you a caption on the picture kind of storyteller or captions in text box type of storyteller? why? do you do both?

I don’t do caption format, because for me, it removes lots of detail and nuance. Long prose means my audience is much smaller, but I wouldn’t be able to convey half the things just by still visuals and dialogue. As you might be able to tell from the aforementioned question, picture taking is also just immensely tiring.

EDITING — explain and show us your process editing a scene through a video, gif, or picture. a before and after will suffice if you aren’t in the middle of editing a scene as you answer this.

Corresponding to the Screenshot Folder question:

I no longer rely on Reshade for post-processing, except for DOF, but even then I blur in editing. Lately I’ve been trying to create a more realistic, atmospheric look with strong DOF, bloom, motion blur, and smoothing out light + shadows with exposure brushes. 

THROWBACK — show us an ancient story scene you done in the past and explain how you would do the scene differently today!

You mean every scene I’ve ever done before En Pointe LOL If we’re talking ancient, I might as well go back to the very beginning of The Kingston Legacy, in 2015. It’s the classic legacy opening of the founder moving to a new town, with basic writing and terrible low-setting-no-cc pictures. I would do literally everything different. I can’t even begin to describe so here’s something to laugh at. 

I tag — @lazysunjade​ (watch her post it 1 second later) @amys-snapshots @notjustabooksims @simnights ❤ Please check the challenge post for the full and original format, and anyone else who wants to participate can also reblog it as an ask game! 

[thelibrarbian]

Rating: T

Chapter word count: 3249

Read on Ao3

or below the cut:

Papyrus was well aware that his lessons with Captain Undyne did not include every aspect of the training a future Royal Guardsman should receive. There was, as far as Papyrus was aware, usually more emphasis on fighting humans and less on cooking pasta, for instance. But the chapter on first aid was a section that she had taken him through in detail, and he was very grateful for that right now.

To be quite honest, he was somewhat surprised by his own knowledge of skeletal anatomy and medicine; he was reasonably sure that not all of it came from Undyne's lessons, but he couldn't remember where else he had learned it. He didn't dwell on it, though - he had probably just read a book at some point and then forgotten about it, or it was simply instinct from being a skeleton monster himself - it only meant that he was even better equipped to take care of the unconscious monster on his living room floor, even if he hadn't realized the extent of his own greatness before.

He couldn't say he felt particularly Great, though.

Fell might have been no longer in danger of dusting, but actually healing his wounds proved much more difficult than it should have been. Not only did attacks deal more damage the more harming intent went into them, it also made them harder to heal - and what Papyrus could feel lingering where Fell had been hit was outright murderous. Healing it wasn't impossible, most certainly not impossible for the Great Papyrus, but if he had hoped to fully mend any of the broken bones right there and then, that was very clearly not happening. The most he could do was to ease some of the pain and encourage Fell's natural healing to do its job perhaps a little faster.

Well! That was a minor setback, but no matter! They could still patch Fell up the regular way, and everything would be fine. And while Sans couldn't assist with healing magic, Papyrus was very glad for the extra hands.

It took longer than he would have liked to admit, but eventually they had cleaned all the wounds, set and splinted the breaks, and wrapped what felt like the majority of Fell's body in bandages. Fell never stirred throughout it all, and Papyrus decided to be glad that he was sleeping through what could not be a pleasant experience from his end if he was conscious. The alternative train of thought that his unresponsiveness prompted was not one that Papyrus wanted to follow.

If Papyrus was perfectly honest, it surprised him a little just how eager his brother was to help. Not that he thought Sans would refuse to assist a monster in need, of course not, but... For reasons that Papyrus didn't entirely understand, Sans and Fell… did not usually get along particularly well, to put it lightly. Yet now it was only on Papyrus' insistence that yes, he really was able to handle everything else on his own that Sans eventually left the injured monster's side, taking Red upstairs with him to let him sleep on a proper (albeit ketchup-stained) mattress.

Papyrus would have preferred to move Fell to a bed as well so he could rest better, but the thought of carrying him up the stairs in this state seemed daunting. Of course, it wasn't that he didn't trust his ability to maneuver a badly injured skeleton through the house, who was probably going to dust if Papyrus accidentally dropped him, or knocked his head against a doorframe, or jostled him just a little bit too much… But there was also now an unoccupied, reasonably comfortable couch only two steps away, and lifting Fell onto that did not come with nearly the same potential for highly unlikely fatal accidents.

He was exceedingly careful as he looped his arms under Fell's shoulders and legs and lifted him up, using a bit of blue magic to make the move go more smoothly for his alternate and avoid aggravating his injuries. Once he had double checked and triple checked and quadruple checked that Fell's HP really was stable now and would remain that way even if Papyrus left his side for a moment, he darted around the house, picked up any additional pillows from the other rooms (excluding Sans' room because he was not going to subject Fell to the ketchup stains he would inevitably find on his brother's pillows - and besides, Red was probably using those), and rushed back to the couch. He carefully arranged Fell a little more comfortably, supporting his upper body with pillows, making sure there was no pressure on his injured ribs, and draping a blanket over him. And then another, because Fell's state called for more than one blanket.

Finally, he brought a chair from the kitchen and sat down next to the couch, reaching over to lightly rest his hand on Fell's broken leg and continue to channel a slow, but steady stream of healing magic into him. It may not have been helping much, but Papyrus had enough magic at his disposal to keep this up for the rest of the night. And probably the next morning as well.

It was more disturbing than he wanted to admit, seeing his alternate so still in the pile of pillows and blankets. A few months had passed since their universes had crossed paths for the first time, but they had remained in somewhat regular contact since then - mostly due to Papyrus' own insistence to invite their rougher counterparts to a biweekly cross-universal skeleton game and movie night. And as much as Fell kept grumbling about those meetings and adamantly refused to host one in his own world, neither he nor Red had missed a single one so far.

Still, as much as Papyrus would like to, he didn't think he was allowed to call his alternate a friend yet. Red and Sans got along well, exchanging puns and knock-knock jokes and generally bonding over their terrible sense of humor, much to Papyrus' chagrin.

Fell was a different matter.

His grumbling may have noticeably decreased since their first meeting, but Papyrus suspected that he thought of the get-togethers more as strategic missions for potential cross-universal allyships rather than socializing. While Red, just like Sans, easily kept up a friendly (and pun-filled) conversation without sharing anything consequential, Fell made no pretense of always keeping the two of them at a metaphorical arm's length, always politely, but firmly turning down any of Papyrus’ suggestions to stay for longer than initially agreed. (Which, in turn, had led Sans to certain comments about sticks and pelvic cavities.) The few times Papyrus had seen his counterpart soften, for lack of a better word, was when the topic of conversation turned to either cooking or his cat, and those moments never lasted long before his carefully kept mask slid back into place.

Papyrus didn't take it personally, of course! Their rougher counterparts just weren't the kind of monsters to make friends easily, and with what Papyrus knew about the 'kill or be killed' universe they came from, he couldn’t expect them to be. It was simply going to be a challenge to earn their trust and friendship, and the Great Papyrus wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

The Great Papyrus also wasn’t one to doubt his chances of success with that particular challenge. He wasn’t one to linger on how long his friend quantity had remained stagnant despite his best efforts, or on the fact that, while he himself had just barely obtained a semi-official job as a sentry, Fell had climbed up through the ranks of his own Royal Guard in record time…

Fell, who was now not only a full member of the Royal Guard, but the second-in-command, outranked only by Captain Undyne and the King himself. Who, if Red was to be believed, was single-handedly responsible for turning the previously lawless town of Snowdin into one of the safest places in his version of the Underground. Whose name was feared and respected from Snowdin all the way to the capital.

Fell… was not supposed to look this small.

He had still shown no sign of movement other than his shallow breathing. His face, the only part of him not covered in blankets, was pale, even for a skull, devoid of the faint glow of magic that was usually the sign of a healthy skeleton monster.

Papyrus swallowed dryly and increased the flow of his healing magic.

He very decisively did not think about what could have happened if Red had been held up, or if Fell had taken any more hits, or if Papyrus' magic hadn't been strong enough to stop the bleeding in time. Worrying too much wasn't helping anything right now. Besides, Red was going to do enough worrying for all of them combined once he woke up, whether he would show it or not, and apparently, there was a good chance that Sans would be joining him. So all the worrying in this house was already more than taken care of, and Papyrus didn't also need to think about things that hadn't happened, or question whether Fell remaining unconscious was to be expected with the severity of his injuries or whether it was a sign that he was- Yes, no, that was exactly what Papyrus was not thinking about.

In the same line of not-thinking, he really hoped that Red was alright.

With a sigh, Papyrus let his healing magic fade out. He needed to refocus. He sat up straight, stretching his arms and back until his spine popped; bending over his alternate like this wasn't the most comfortable position to keep for long periods of time, he realized. Not that it mattered - he would gladly take some minor discomfort if it helped Fell recover.

As quietly as possible, he scooted the chair over so he could better reach his alternate’s ribcage. But before he could even touch him, a faint noise, softer than what he would have expected, came from the end of the couch, and Papyrus' gaze darted over immediately.

Fell's head was turned towards him, his eye sockets were open, and he was staring at Papyrus with an unreadable expression.

Papyrus' shoulders sagged with relief. "Oh, thank the stars you're awake! You had me worried there for a moment - not that I thought that someone as Great and Terrible as yourself could be kept down by anything at all, of course, what a ridiculous idea!" He gave a small and very much not nervous laugh. "But, I am rambling when I should instead be asking: How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Are you comfortable, or should I get more pillows?"

Fell gave no response, which, Papyrus could somewhat understand. That had probably been at least two questions too many for someone who didn't look like he was entirely awake yet.

"How are you feeling?" he repeated, fidgeting slightly with his hands and successfully stopping himself from continuing to ramble this time.

Fell still gave no response, although he stopped staring at Papyrus, his eye lights dim and unfocused as they scanned the room. Then, with a grunt of effort, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking as if he was fully intending to get up.

Papyrus gave a noise of alarm and quickly reached out to stop him. "Oh, no, I believe that is not a good idea at this moment! You might hurt yourself - I mean, worse than you already - well…"

Fell let himself be guided back into the cushions without any resistance, and that was somehow more alarming than his attempt to get up in the first place. Papyrus was certain that, in any other instance, his alternate would have snapped at him for the mere suggestion that he should lie back down, and if Papyrus hadn't been concerned before, he certainly was now.

Trying his best not to let his worry show, he lightly patted Fell's shoulder and carefully tugged the blankets back up. "There you go, that's better! You just try to rest, and let us take care of everything else! I can even read you a book to help you relax, that usually works for me - although I do not know if you would enjoy Fluffy Bunny. Maybe 'A History of Puzzles'? Or maybe not, if it's too interesting to fall asleep to, that won't do, either!"

He paused his chatter to give his counterpart a closer look. Despite leaning back into the pillows again, Fell still looked tense, dim eye lights darting back and forth as if looking for something. Or searching the room for possible threats. Or both.

"Sans?" His voice was rougher and quieter than Papyrus remembered, closer to a whisper than anything else, but he supposed that was to be expected given the circumstances. Right now, Papyrus was glad to hear him speak at all.

"Your brother? He's upstairs, sleeping. He was exhausted when he came here, but Sa- Comic said he would be fine, he just needed some rest." Papyrus gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "He brought you here, to mine and Comic's house, in case you were wondering how you got here. Or, er, where you were." He probably should have mentioned that right away, but, well, it couldn't be changed now.

Fell stared at him intensely, and Papyrus couldn't tell whether he was trying to judge the truthfulness of those statements, or if he just needed a while to process the words. Then he blinked a few times, looked over the room again, and something seemed to click in his mind. Some of the tension left his face as he exhaled, sinking back into the pillows.

For a moment, Papyrus considered asking what had happened to leave him in such a state, and he had already opened his mouth to do so when he paused. Fell didn't exactly seem like he was up for any sort of extended conversation at this point, and Papyrus decided to let him rest a bit more before he started needling him with more questions.

There were a few moments of awkward silence before Papyrus cleared his non-existent throat. "Well! I was just going to heal you a bit more before you woke up, so if that's alright with you, I'll just get back to that?" When there were no objections, Papyrus brought his hand over his alternate's blanket-covered ribcage, fingers starting to glow green.

Faster than Papyrus thought his alternate could move, Fell's hand closed around his wrist before he made contact.

Papyrus stopped moving immediately. He wasn't afraid of his alternate, although he knew better than to underestimate him even in this state, if Papyrus' approach had somehow registered as a threat to him. Still, he really didn't want to startle him.

But Fell only stared at Papyrus' hand with a somewhat puzzled expression, slightly tilting his head. "Whadda ya..." He paused, frowning at his own slurred speech. When he continued after a moment, it sounded like it was taking him quite a bit of concentration to enunciate the words clearly. "What. Are you… doing?"

Oh. Right. Healing magic was… not much of a thing in Fell's universe. Not that Fell or Red had ever explicitly spoken about the topic - they very rarely spoke about anything regarding their universe, Red's occasional gushing about his brother's accomplishments notwithstanding - but Papyrus had come to his own conclusions. (Although he had wondered, with him and Fell being essentially the same monster… but that was neither here nor there.)

Papyrus straightened up slightly, as much as he could with his wrist still in Fell's grip. "Like I said, healing you! If you will allow me, that is. Which I very much hope you will, because despite my best efforts I'm afraid that you're still… not quite back to full health yet." And if that wasn't one of the biggest understatements to ever come out of his mouth, Papyrus didn't know what was.

Fell still looked confused, but he slowly released him.

"Thank you!" Papyrus gave a bright smile, which came a bit more easily than before. "Now, I'm just going to reach over there and place my hand on the blanket, alright? It shouldn't hurt, but please do let me know if it becomes uncomfortable at any-"

Another noise interrupted him, but he couldn't make out what Fell was trying to say this time.

"Pardon?"

Fell blinked furiously as if he was fighting hard to stay awake. Papyrus knew better than to tell him to go back to sleep; instead, he waited patiently for him to sort his words. "Why're ya… you… on th' chair?"

Papyrus blinked back. "Because I am planning to stay here for a while longer, and while I could stand the entire time, there wasn't really any need to, so I brought a chair from the kitchen?"

Fell huffed softly, his eye sockets starting to close before he forced them back open. "Not… what I mean… why'ren't ya on th' couch?"

"Because. You are on the couch??"

Fell stared at him - he had been doing a lot of that since he woke up -, then slowly raised his arm and patted the space behind his head. Which was mostly occupied by pillows at the moment.

"You… want me to sit on the couch with you?" Papyrus had to confirm. While they had, of course, shared the couch on movie nights before, Fell wasn't lying down on those occasions… and he didn't exactly strike Papyrus as the cuddly type.

Fell scoffed. "Obv'sly. If you're gonna keep… doin' this…" He vaguely gestured towards Papyrus, the chair he was sitting on, and the hand that Papyrus was still holding awkwardly over his ribs without touching him. "Don' need ta… need ta..." Then he let out a tired huff, clearly frustrated with his apparent struggle to finish the sentence. "Couch. Sit," he commanded, closing his eyes without waiting for a response.

Well. Alright. That was unexpected, but if Fell was this adamant about it, Papyrus couldn't really object, could he? It took a bit of shuffling, but in the end, he managed to arrange himself on the end of the couch next to Fell's head, with his legs under the pillows, and Fell seemed to have no objections to essentially lying in Papyrus' lap - or rather, lying in the pile of pillows that Papyrus had on his lap. In any case, the lack of protest was probably more of a testament to Fell's not-fully-conscious state than anything else, but it was certainly a more comfortable position for Papyrus than sitting on the chair and leaning over his alternate.

"Can I continue healing you now?" Papyrus asked again after a few moments.

He received a vague hum that sounded half like confirmation and half like Fell was falling asleep.

Papyrus took it as a 'yes'. He positioned his hand over the blankets around Fell's ribs, careful not to press on the injury, and focused on keeping his intent warm and soothing, pushing his worries to the back of his mind. Now, with one arm over his alternate, the position felt almost like a hug - another thing that Fell certainly would not have tolerated if he was fully conscious. As things were, though, there was another, even fainter hum as Fell shifted minutely in the pillows, and Papyrus got the strange impression that he was trying to curl closer.

[hawkinspostbite]

BURN THE WITCH - chapter two

Words: 3,793

MASTERLIST BURN THE WITCH

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc.

Jim had fucked up. In the scheme of things, this wasn’t a royally huge fuck-up; he’d definitely fucked up a lot during his lifetime, but as of that moment, it was pretty important.

It wasn’t the first time he had been late getting home, or broken a promise, he was sure that Anna was used to it by now, but he knew that El had yet to get used to his usual routine. He was never really good at honoring commitments, although, recently he had been trying to make a better habit of doing the opposite. It was turning out to be harder than anticipated.

They sky had grown dark by the time he had finished flagging the land at Eugene’s farm. Eugene and his son and grandchildren had gone back to the house for supper while it was still light out. But it wasn’t until that time, when it was already too late, when Jim had realized he screwed up.

He had made it across town in record time, pretty much breaking every local law in the process. He all but ran up the leaf-covered path to the tiny cabin he called home. He rapped on the door, giving the “secret knock” twice before sighing. “Hey, girls. Open up, alright. Look, I know I’m late… I’ve got candy here, I’ve got all the good stuff.”

No response.

He smacked the door with his palm, growing frustrated. “Please, will you open the door? I’m gonna freeze to death out here!”

Jim heard the locks click, and he rushed inside, closing the door behind him. He scanned the room. The television was out of place, the long cord stretching the length of the living room, and under the door of his daughter’s bedroom. He rolled his eyes, setting the plastic pumpkin filled with candy he had bribed from Eugene’s youngest grandson, down on the coffee table. “Girls, open up, would you? I got stuck somewhere and lost track of time. And I’m sorry.”

Silently, he wished the girls would open their door, but he also would one-hundred-percent understand if they didn’t. Anna had inherited her father’s attitude, as well as his stubbornness, work ethic, and knack for finding trouble. She was a tough nut to crack. She never backed down from a fight or an argument, never let people push her around, and if she had an opinion, she was certain it was heard. Yes, she was definitely his child. (And he secretly was thankful that she favored more after him than her mother because he wasn’t sure he could go through that experience all over again.)

“El, Anna, would you please open the door?”

No response. They were nothing if not consistent.

He sighed, turning around and plopping himself rather dramatically onto the couch. He sighed again, leaning forward to grab the pumpkin from the table. “Alright… I’m just gonna be out here by myself, eating all this candy. I’m gonna get fat… It’s very unhealthy to leave me out here.” In the process of his rant, he began to unwrap a Reese’s cup. “I could have a heart attack or something. But you know, do what you want.”

Rolling his eyes, he flicked the candy wrapper onto the floor, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He had no room to say anything. He couldn’t blame them for not wanting anything to do with him. He had crossed them for the last time (for the time being).

Jim sat in the living room, the muffled sound of the television coming from the girls’s room playing softly in the background of the silence, for quite awhile. After a few hours at least, he decided to stop his moping, for he would never win the game, especially when it was two against one, and turn in for the night.

He turned the lamps off, made sure all the locks on the door were locked, and retreated to his bedroom.

Jim awoke the next morning, slightly shocked to not find Anna on the couch. That’s where she was most mornings when he woke up, that or in the kitchen getting a head-start on breakfast. But today, she was neither place. She was clearly, as he learned the older she got, very good at holding grudges.

He got himself dressed, made two stacks of Eggos, topped with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream and broken-up pieces of Halloween candy, and then went to wake up the girls. “Rise and shine.” He knocked on the door. He had been trying to not enter without warning, or not enter at all, as a promise to work on giving them more privacy. Another hard habit to break.

Still no response.

He knew that Eleven practically woke with the sun, so there was no way she wasn’t awake. “So that’s it huh, still not talking?”

Silence, once again. “Alright. I guess I’m just gonna have to eat both of these triple-decker Eggo extravaganzas on my own.”

He turned back towards the kitchen, and then he heard the door creak open behind him. “No Anna?” He asked, when he saw that only the younger of the two girls had appeared.

She shook her head, and followed him to the table, where there were, in fact, two triple-decker Eggo extravaganzas on the table. “Anna, if you aren’t out here within the next thirty seconds, I’m eating your food.” He called.

Jim waited patiently, giving her a minute, rather than thirty seconds, and then began to cut into the first stack of waffles, sliding the second towards Eleven. “Alright then, your loss!” He called again. “Ya brat.” He mumbled.

“Brat?” Eleven asked, dipping her finger into the whipped cream.

He sighed. “Brat, “a badly-behaved child”. Anna would be a prime example. Now, dig in.” He had attempted to keep it as light-hearted as possible when Eleven was around. She had spent her whole life thus-far being terrified of everyone and everything and as hard as it would be, he was determined to make her feel safe. “Mmm! Mmm! It’s good right?”

Eleven raised her eyebrows at him as she bit into a piece of one of her waffles. “Oh, and you know the great thing about it, is that it’s only like eight-thousand calories.” He laughed at himself.

Eleven gave him a questioning look. His humor was often lost on her.

He turned to look, once again at the television cable that led into her room. “You visited him again last night?”

Eleven looked at the cable as well, then back at Hopper. “He says he needs me.” She said lowly, taking another bite of her breakfast.

“Want me to go check on him?” Jim asked.

She shook her head.

“I know that you miss him, alright. But it’s too dangerous. You’re the last thing he needs right now. You’re gonna see him, soon. And not just in that head of your’s, in real life- I feel like I’m making progress with these people.”

“Friends don’t lie.” Eleven said quietly.

He felt like she was looking into his soul.

“What?”

“You say “soon” on day twenty-one. You say “soon” on day two-hundred and five. You now say “soon” on day three-hundred and twenty-six-“

The way the conversation was going, it felt eerily familiar to the way most conversations with Anna went, from the ages of twelve to fifteen. It was like she had groomed Eleven to be able to handle this exact situation, exactly the way she would have at that age. “What is this, you’re counting the days like you’re some sort of prisoner?”

She ignored him. “When is soon?”

“Soon is when it’s not dangerous anymore.”

“When?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“On day five-hundred?”

“I don’t know.”

“On day six-hundred?”

“I don’t know.” He had to stand his ground. He couldn’t loose his footing with this one.

“On day seven-hundred? Day eight-hundred?”

“I don’t know!”

“I need to see him!”

“I said, I don’t know!”

“Tell me!” Eleven shouted, nodding her head and sending both plates into his lap.

“Shit!” There was whipped cream and candy all down the front of his uniform. He jumped up, and quickly turned to look at the girls’s bedroom door. He had expected Anna to make an appearance after all the commotion, but she still didn’t.

“Friends don’t lie!” The girl stood up, challenging him, before storming across the room back into the bedroom, the door opening and closing with a wave of her hand.

“Shit!” He said again, as he began to clean up the mess his youngest child had made. Between cleaning up Eleven’s mess, and having the change his entire uniform, he was going to be late, that was inevitable.

“When I come home tonight, the T.V better be back out here, and you’d both had better loose your attitudes, or I’m gonna start cracking some skulls, you hear me?” He had shouted at the closed bedroom door on his way onto the porch.

Jim hadn’t actually meant he would physically crack their skulls, though he imagined that he had just scared El half-to-death with his figure of speech. Anna would know what he meant, and then explain it to the her.

On his short drive to work he began plotting his punishments for each child, had they not done what he said by that evening; For Anna, no going out on the weekend for at least a month, she would help volunteer at one of the pumpkin-patches or the library or something like that. And for El, he’d have to somehow disconnect the antenna for the television, because that was that girl’s vice.

As usual, he made quite the commotion upon arrival at the Hawkins police department, slamming doors, trying to lock repeat-offender Murray outside, roughly hanging his coat up, just a normal morning.

The first order of business was trying to track the pumpkin patch rot, on a map. “We found more out by Gilbert’s farm.” Powell said, leaning off the table he was sitting on to point to the general direction on the map.

Jim nodded, making an X on the map with his marker. “Some real nasty stuff. It was sticky.” Callahan said.

“Alright, where else?” He turned to look at his fellow officers.

“That was it Chief.” Powell shrugged, looking down at the small piece of paper in his hand.

“That was it, or you got tired of looking?”

“It was getting dark.” Powell said, posing the statement more like a question.

“I mean, it was really dark.” Callahan backed him up.

“They’re called flashlights, you dipshits.” He snapped, turning back to examine the map.

“Oh, okay…” Callahan muttered. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Kid giving you problems, Chief?”

Hopper tuned out his co-workers, staring at the map. He tried to recognize a pattern in the rot locations, or at least some focus-point to where they could start an investigation. Suddenly, he ripped it off of the wall, pushing Callahan off the table, and laying it down flat for them to see overhead. He took a red marker, drawing three circles around the areas of the rot. At the center of the smallest circle, was Hawkins Lab.

Without a word, he grabbed the map, folding it and grabbing his coat. “Hey Chief, where are you going?” He ignored Powell’s question as Flo, not even looking up from her work, handed him the keys to his truck. “You want us to go back out there?”

Where was he going? He was going back to that fucking lab. That dreaded place, that, between the appointments he attended with Joyce for Will, “business” meetings, and general law check-ups, had basically become his second home.

Without a word, he was let through the gates, in the front doors, and straight up the stairs and into Dr. Owens’s office. “Sit down, I’ve gotta show you something.”

He slammed the map onto Owens desk, quickly explaining the story of the poisoned crops on various farms within the area. “Grass, crops, trees, everything in this area is either dead or dying. That’s a radius of over three miles. And it all leads back to here.” Jim pointed to the lab in the center circle on the map.

“See, these patterns here are really pretty. I like the design. It’s almost psychedelic.”

Owens was attempting to make a joke out of the situation. Hopper didn’t find it funny. “This is a joke to you, huh?”

“No, it’s not a joke, it’s just- I don’t understand what this has to do with me Chief.”

“Whatever’s happening is spreading from this place. From this lab.” Growing increasingly more agitated, Jim sat down in the office chair.

“That’s impossible. The last burn was two days ago. It’s contained.”

“What if there’s a leak?”

“A leak?” Owens scoffed.

“I don’t know, man! You’re the scientist!”

“Exactly.” Owens slid the map back towards Hopper. “And I’m telling you, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Convince me.” Jim challenged.

“Convince you?”

“Yeah, you and your egg-head friends, go out to every area on this map, you run your tests, or whatever the hell you do, and you see if anything comes up.”

Owens laughed. “Alright, so you’re giving me orders now? No.” He shook his head. “That’s not how this works.”

“I keep things nice and quiet for you. And you keep your shit out of my town, so I can keep my kid safe! That is the deal! I have done my part, now you do your’s. Convince me.” Hopper slid the map back towards Owens, before storming out of his office. “I’m gonna assume you’re following me!”

Hopper stood proudly as he watched Owens gather a team of his colleagues/employees, and pile them into hospital vans. They set out for Merrill’s farm, as it was the closest to the lab.

Owens stood with the chief as they watched men dressed head-to-toe in full hazmat suits, dig up chunks of soil, and take whole pumpkins for testing. “Well, you were right about these pumpkins. Some nasty stuff. And the smell, mother of God-“

“So what exactly do you think is going on here?” Jim asked.

“Well, I told you what I think.” Owens looked at him, catching his glare. “But, we’ll run the tests and see what comes up. In the meantime, I just need you to keep the area clear for us. Don’t think it’ll be more than a day or two.”

“What do you want me to tell people?”

Owens shrugged, turning to face him fully. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” He patted him on the arm, before walking to his car, getting in it, and driving away.

“Hey, chief, you copy?” Powell’s voice on his walkie broke him from his trance.

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember that Russian girl Murray was goin on about the other day?”

Jesus Christ.

“Yeah, well now I’m thinking he’s not so crazy after all.” Powell finished.

Hopper’s voice quieted. “Stay where you are. Do. Not. Move.” He almost broke into a sprint as he raced to get to his truck, barely shutting the door before he was speeding to the location Powell said he and Callahan were at.

Once he arrived at the scene, he had the woman re-tell her story. “You don’t need to make a report on this, there wasn’t a crime committed.” He told Callahan as he walked towards the mother and daughter.

“It was a young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, short, curly brown hair, very soft-spoken. She had a grey shirt on, with jeans and a brown coat.”

“What did she say? Did she say anything to you?”

“She just asked where the school was. So I pointed her in that direction and by the time I turned around to look at her again, she was gone.”

“Did she do anything to hurt you, or scare you? Cause you any harm?”

“No. No, it just shocked me to see a girl alone in the woods in the middle of the day.”

“Thank you, thanks, my officers will handle it from here. Appreciate your time.” He didn’t need any more clues to tell him that El had left the house. He should’ve known it was coming sooner or later, but for her to be so careless, it was almost ridiculous.

He left the scene before Powell or Callahan could even say goodbye, and drove straight home.

That was it. She had pushed him right over the edge. The situation was not unfamiliar. He had spent many nights in the past two years sitting up, angrily waiting for Anna to return after she had snuck out. He began to wonder if these were things that all children did, or was it just his two, that somehow, although having entirely different childhoods, managed to put him through the exact same scenarios repeatedly.

When he got there, Anna’s car was parked in the same spot it always was, almost looking untouched. So at least he knew Angry-Thing-One was home. He didn’t even bother to go inside because he knew he would just break something out of frustration. And Anna would know he was home because she most likely heard him pacing back and forth on the porch.

Jim smoked four cigarettes in a row before he heard the sound of leaves crunching in the dark. As El came into view, she stopped, and the two stared at each other for a moment, before she began to walk towards the house. He outed his cigarette, silently preparing for the battle he was about to engage in.

She walked into the house, with not a word spoken. And he followed right after her, slamming the door in his wake. “Friends don’t lie, isn’t that your bullshit saying?” He whipped his hat off of his head, throwing it onto the couch. “Hey, hey, hey! Don’t walk away from me!”

He managed to step in front of her before she could open the door to her bedroom. “Where’d you go on your little field trip, huh? Where?” El removed her coat, silently walking to hang it on a hook on the coat rack. “Did you go to see Mike?”

“He didn’t see me.”

“Yeah, well that mother and her daughter did, and they called the cops.” He was still blocking the bedroom door. “Now, did anyone else see you? Anyone at all?” He was met with silence. “Come on! I need you to think!”

“Nobody saw me!”

He began to pace, trying to direct her away from the bedroom door. She couldn’t keep retreating from their fights. Fights she had started. “You put us in danger. You realize that, right? You, me, Anna, we’re all in danger!”

“You promised I go.” Tears were now pooling in the young girl’s eyes. “And I never leave! Nothing ever happens!”

Once again, Jim had fully expected Anna to be out of her room by now, playing mediator and watching her young protege in action, but alas, not a peep of sound came from inside the room. “Yeah, nothing happens, and you stay safe!”

“You lie!”

“I don’t lie! I protect, and I feed, and I teach! And all I ask of you is three simple rules, three rules. And you know what? You can’t even do that!” It had now turned into a screaming match, and he wasn’t quite sure who would win.

He turned to walk into the kitchen and El smacked her fists onto the wall. “You’re grounded. You know what that means?” His planning from that morning were finally coming into fruition. “It means no Eggos-“ He opened the freezer, and grabbed the box of food, throwing it onto the floor. “And no T.V, for a week.”

He stormed over to the television, which was now back in it’s proper spot in the living room. He leaned over the back of it, attempting to unplug it from the wall, when an unseen force halted his hand. “Alright, knock it off, let go.” El was standing in front of her bedroom door, head bowed slightly, a stream of blood running from her nostril.

She shook her head.

He attempted to unplug the television again, but was stopped. “Okay, two weeks.” He tried to unplug it again. “Let go!”

Once again, she shook her head.

“A month.”

“No.” Eleven demanded.

“Well congratulations.” Jim turned back to the T.V. “You just graduated from no T.V for a month, to no T.V at all.” He caught her off-guard, unplugging the cord from the wall and quickly taking out his pocket-knife, cutting through it.

“No!” El shouted, rushing over to attempt and save her beloved television. She kept muttering “no” to herself as she tried to fix it.

Hopper took a moment to ground himself, reminding himself that he was not only dealing with a child, but a child with psionic abilities that had been spending an awful lot of time with his daughter. “You have got to understand that there are consequences to your actions.”

“You are like papa!” El turned to him angrily.

“Really, I’m like that psychotic son of a bitch?” He sighed, still trying to remind himself who he was dealing with. “Wow, okay. You wanna go back in that lab? One phone call, I can make that happen.”

“I hate you.” Tears were running down her cheeks.

“Yeah, well I’m not too crazy about you either. You know why, cause you’re a brat. Remember what that word means?” El was almost stunned by him. “You don’t? How about we look it up, B-R-A-T, brat.”

He tossed the book in the air, towards her, but with one swipe of her hand, it was suspended in mid-air. She flung it at him. “Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?” He began to walk towards her but she had now pushed the couch into his legs, almost knocking him over. “Hey, hey!”

El knocked over the book case outside of her and Anna’s bedroom. “Stop walking away from me!” She turned to walk towards her bedroom door, but her need for confrontation got the better of her and she stopped.

Tears were now running rampant down her cheeks. “You wanna go out in the world? You’d better grow up, grow the hell up!”

El’s hands were shaking, as she let out a monstrous shriek, every window in the cabin blew out, glass flying everywhere. Sobbing, she pushed past him and into the bedroom, not bothering to shut the door all the way.

Furious, and not backing down from the fight, Jim followed her, slamming the door open.

And then he felt his heart sink.

Eleven was the only other person in the room.

So where the hell was Anna?