#but damn at least let us get an idea of what the places not involved in the plot are like if they're not going to play a part in it

[alteredphoenix]

One thing I will say that I don’t like about Tales of is that for all the talk about how they’re set in unique worlds and how they’re fleshed out by copious amounts of worldbuilding they’re known for, some of the games don’t give you the luxury of exploring the actual world in its entirety.

Zestiria has the excuse that Desolation was largely broken into smaller landmasses and islands post-Berseria but it still takes place on a continent with two interconnecting countries so it kind of puts a damper on the the whole “the Lord of Calamity is about to plunge the world into darkness if he’s killed early/isn’t purified” scenario when it’s set on a smaller scale.

Legendia has a whole mainland that you hear about but don’t even get to explore.

Luminaria is a weird example where it clearly shows there are two/three continents that might be connected a’la Pangaea/Kenorland but we only get an in-depth look at the Jerle Federation and the Gildllan Empire (and an idea of what it was like when it was formerly the Wildlands). OTOH, the northern and southern continents might not even have civilization so they might be excused as being the north and south poles so that leaves the lands outside the Empire and the Federation in an awkward spot from a worldbuilding standpoint (because unless it’s all wilderness out there, and it’d be stupid for the Empire not to capitalize on that, then that means there are settlements beyond the borders, and they have to know there’s a war going on right next door). Then again, they probably wouldn’t play any role in the Anathema War whatsoever in the immediate picture, so that makes Yelsey’s comment about “being in Aedis means you get to see the whole world” rather silly because how can you if the narrative consigns the war to just one big part of the continent and ignores the nations west of the Empire and south of Jerle? Unfortunately at the time of this post we don’t have the good fortune of knowing if future episodes would’ve taken place outside Imperial and Federalist territory so Luminaria is forcibly condemned by capitalism BamCo to have its world take place in just the two countries. Then again, the countries seem relatively large and while we don’t get much of an idea about their maritime history (which there should be because we see boats, and Shayor and Huazar are right near the ocean) we do know technology is advanced enough, at least on the Imperial side, to have train locomotives and a functional railway system (but somehow still no cars?? Even after the technological revolution the Reactors brought on regardless of how Jerle is trying to keep up with their advancements?? In a wartime setting?? Que???) so if we completely ignore everything outside the Empire and the Federation that’s at least half the world right there.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x DC AU: Danny didn't want to rely on his rogues, but Tucker's computer skills only got them so far and if the media black out continues... Danny knows it's not going to be pretty for them. Nightmares begin to plague the Justice League.

---

Danny gets back from a shitty conversation with Clockwork and in his frustration, accidentally sets off one of the new GIW sensors that his parents allowed to be installed in the lab. Their collaboration seemed to be going no where but when Danny had new holes blasted through him... it must be going somewhere. Damn it.

The commotion is loud enough that Jazz hears it from her room above the lab (he knows she listens to more than just the lab... it's cause she cares, even if it is a bit invasive.) and rushes in to play the distraction while Danny gets away. This time it works- the Drs. Fenton might have the worst aim in the city but they demand all shots cease if a civilian is nearby- Next time his mom might be aiming her gun at him and not the ground. Danny decides he'll buy Jazz a coffee on his way home.

But first, new holes. Yikes. That like, needs medical attention- He heads to Tucker's place and he's pretty sure Sam is already there.

"Danny! What the fuck, did Clockwork-" She starts, her meticulous cat eyeliner making her glare all the deeper.

"Nah, it's the stupid GIW sensor, the stupid one I told you guys about that has a spring lose in the back?"

"I thought we decided those weren't a concern?" Tucker looks him over, face covered in undisguised and very blatant concern.

"Yeah well, Clocky pissed me off so I forgot about them when I came back in through the lab portal-"

"you were supposed to be practicing making your own." Sam interrupts.

"-And when I did, the thing got knocked and I was swatted like immediately. Jazz launched herself into the lab so Mom made them stop shooting and it gave me enough time to get out." Danny continued to explain, ignoring his friend's 'i told you so' faces.

"Dude. We're pushing it close this week. Sam already had a confrontation with the lab guys and I already got blacklisted on my new persona accounts. We're like seriously threading the needle for getting caught." Tucker, pulls his glasses down to pinch the bridge of his nose and Danny and Sam both get what he's really saying. They need to lie low.

"What did CW say to piss you off?" Sam asks after a silent moment.

"He said nothing really, just like he always does, but insinuated I should try getting a rogue to help." Danny sighs.

"What, Like getting Ember to announce the GIW invasion on her tour? We already agreed that-" Sam is getting angry as she speaks so Tuck cuts her off- "It's a bad Idea. She is- They are all just as likely to get captured and hurt as you are if you go out of town." He comes to the same conclusion they've agreed on for weeks. No rogue involvement.

"Maybe we just need to sleep on it... Hey... wait." Danny sighs, but then his gears start to turn.

"Nocturn. We need Nocturn to help us. He can get the message out through dreams." Danny comes to the new conclusion and his friends look hesitant but at least like they're considering it.

"Isn't he an ancient? He's not going to help us for free." Tucker, ever the Egyptian god in these moments.

"Most people don't take their dreams literally." Sam, ever the skeptic in these moments.

"Yeah but, if they dream it enough times, and they're the right people to do something... they can look it up and then at least see that there is a problem?" Danny sounds hopeful and its the first time he's sounded that way in months.

"What, you're gunna give Batman nightmares?" Tucker snickers but Sam looks inspired.

"That's exactly what he's going to do. We need to haunt the Justice League. They'll see past the fake facade the GIW put up online and they'll be able to get the right legislation passed." Sam is practically buzzing.

"Okay, so lets get scheming- What do you get the primordial beast of the unconscious? Should I google 'what to get someone who has everything'? " Danny laughs.

_____

Bruce and his children rarely do feelings when they have breakfast in the morning after a night of separate patrols, but it seems as though the room is plagued with unease. Tim looks about as tired as ever, so his unease is probably attributable to WE board meetings, but its unlike the rest of his children to be so... disturbed. For some reason, after Alfred has excused them all from eating more than a few nibbles, they make it to the cave. Bruce is glad for the noise his children bring.

The nightmare's he's been having are following a dark plot. A town, a boy who looks like he was kin, and so, so much death. Bruce has had vivid dreams before in life, but this nightmare is... unreal. He tries to remind himself that it's just a nightmare.

When his JL emergency communicator goes off at the computer desk, he's not expecting it to be Dinah Lance. She and her Birds are typically wary of him in Gotham, even if they work well together in the League. He answers it like he would any Batman call, with silence.

"Bats, we have a problem. Any chance you've been having weird dreams about a kid getting experimented on or a town being burned down? Ghosts? Lazarus portals?" Dinah sounds exhausted, but Bruce snaps to her voice with rapt attention. As do all of his children.

"I-" Bruce takes a look around the room, everyone's heads except for Tim's nodding up and down with distress," We all have."

"Something tells me that they whole JL is. Everyone I've talked to this week has had a variation of the same dream. We either have a telepath trying to tell us something, or something even worse than that."

"I'll call emergency meeting, we need to collect details and try to determine the complete message."

"I'll send you what I've noted down so far, sans personal details of course, it's definitely in a town called Amity Park though. My client this morning saw the sign."

Batman grunts and the call ends. It's time to get to work.

----

When the Justice League finally arrives, the town is glowing, and everything feels like... sleep. smothering. snoring. smoking. smoldering.

And then, despite the exhaustion that echos within them, the trudge onwards. The noise of laser guns certainly wakes them up a bit.

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 8 - "Give me that, before anything happens."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

"Don't touch that." Constantine said without even looking up from the book he was reading through for research. Phantom had joined the Justice League dark only recently and was still in that sort of mentor - glorified babysitting - state. It was just his luck that he lost in the stick draw and had now to 'mentor' the who-knows-how-old-he-truly-is Ghost King.

He should have stuck this job to Zatanna. The 'kid' was curious as a cat and apparently wanted to touch every good damn artifact in the House of Mysteries that Constantine had ever gotten his hands on.

"Don't touch that either." The Brite muttered without looking up, he was so close in figuring out the actual meaning of the curse placed on a good damn church bell that causes everyone who hears it to fall asleep at midnight sharp and wake up at 8 AM later like nothing happened. Behind his back Phantom stuck his tongue out at the man before reaching out to poke the artifact that caught his eye anyway. However the House of Mysteries had other ideas as it reconstructed itself at the right moment and put the artifact further away from Phantom.

The Ghost King pouted, crossing his arms and floated over to where Constantine was pouring over a curse seal. Phantom hummed as he looked over the Brites shoulder grinning. "Oh I didn't know you could use ghost speech for curses!"

"Say what now mate?!" John's head snapped to the side to stare at Phantom who was now floating over his shoulder. "It's in ghost speech? What even is that?"

The Ghost King had the nerve to give him an unimpressed stare that really made the Brite need a smoke, but he had given Zatanna his good damn word not to smoke around the 'kid', so that was a no.

"Ghost speech. The language of the Infinite Realms also known as the Ghost Zone, After Life, Hell, Home of the Damned, and so on and so on." Constantines eye twitched as the Ghost boy shrugged. He let out a suffering sigh and pushed his copie of the curse seal over to Phantom.

"What does it say?" The other blinked for a moment before turning his eyes to the photo. A scratching static white noise filled the Brite's ears and he yelped in pain, covering his ears. The noise instantly stopped and Contantine glared at the Ghost King who sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry, I will say it again in English."

Constantine only grumbled something inaudible before motioning for the other to continue.

"You idiots don't sleep enough. Go and get at least eight hours of sleep. If you don't sleep by midnight I will be the one to make you sleep."

"The hell?"

"That's what's written there."

"Don't tell me we have another good damn Sandman problem on our hands." John gripped with one hand at his hair, he really hoped that wasn't it because dear good he did not want to get Batman or one of the other Not Dark heros involved.

"Nah, he goes by Nocturne, he never liked that name some philosophers came up with. But this does go against the agreement I had with him."

Was this how Batman felt when his Robins went against his orders? Or how the mentors of the Yonge Justice feel when the teens sass back? Because Constantine was sticking this ancient kid of a Ghost King onto Zatanna the next change he got.

"You know how to lift that curse then?" Instead of going further into a rabbit hole, Constantine decided it was easier to just find out if the Ghost King can lift a good damn curse he had been working on solving for days now instead of finding out who the hell Nocturne was now.

"Of course I know." Phantom answered easily, floating on his back around the room like he was going with the flow of water. Glowing green eyes going along the shelves where various books and artifacts were thrown on, in no particular order.

"Great. Let's go and fix this then." The man muttered, getting up from his chair and grabbing his coat. "I need a bottle of whiskey after this and a good damn smoke…"

Phantom just followed behind the man ready for his second official job with the Justice League Dark. He grinned happily of finally getting some outside action only to come to a sudden halt as the Brite man whirled around glaring at the Ghost King only inches from his the other.

"Phantom?"

"Yes?" The 'kid' answered nervously.

"Give me that, before anything happens. How often did I tell you NOT to touch anything of the artifacts? Do you even know what that thing does!"

Reluctantly like a reprimanded child the Ghost King handed over a golden plate with a glowing green crystal embedded into it, Constantine remembered it being the leftover part of a demon they had banished. The man narrowed his eyes. "The other one too."

"Fine…" Phantom handed over a crystal zepter, John had picked up from an ancient tomb. "Didn't think you noticed me picking them up, since you didn't say anything before I even touched them."

"Mate, you are forgetting who currently owns this house."

[peachhcs]

a fic or blurb of ryan’s farewell party for will pls?!

charm bracelet

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy heads to boston after ryan begs her to fly out for will’s farewell party in hopes of reconciling things between the ex-couple (writing grace and samy’s dynamic was actually so fun because i’ve never wrote them before)

2.1k words

i got so carried away with this it wasn’t gonna be this long but it turned into a whole fic. the ending of this is a bit interpret how you want, but in my mind it’s them not completely ignoring one another, but they aren’t gonna talk it out for a long while. p.s. the baby grace and will photo i found is actually adorable!

au masterlist

"please come?" ryan begged over the phone while samy sat at her desk pondering the offer he'd been trying to convince her of for the last twenty minutes. "if not for will, then for us? don't know when we'll see you if you aren't coming out to boston as often anymore," the brunette continued making samy feel even worse.

"hey, i'll still come to boston. i didn't just go for will, you know," the girl rolled her eyes slightly.

"then come out to see us. you don't even have to see will if you don't want. there will be enough people that you'll probably be able to avoid him," ryan kept persisting because 1. he knew samy still cared deep down and 2. she was their friends too and he knew the guys really wanted to see her again before school started back up.

"you're so annoying," she teased a bit making them both laugh. "i'll think about it, okay? i might have to be back at school, but i'll see."

"promise?"

"i promise," samy nodded and the two ended the call. when her phone found its place back on her desk, samy knew damn well already that she was completely free that weekend. she just didn't know if she could stomach potentially seeing will.

—

two weeks later, samy and her mom were on a plane to boston for the party. ellen was still very close to colleen and after being there for will his entire life, she wasn't missing this despite everything that's happened.

gabe and ryan drove into the city the day before to catch up with samy themselves. will didn't have much idea that the hughes were in town and probably wouldn't find out until tomorrow at the party.

"hey, hughesy," ryan greeted with a large smile. his arms quickly slid around the girl's frame in a tight hug before letting gabe take his turn.

"hi, it's good to see you guys again," samy grinned widely. she really did miss seeing them. it'd been since worlds that they were all together like this.

"i'm glad you came out. i didn't think you would," gabe admitted as the three sat at a small table waiting for the waiter to take their orders.

"i didn't think i was coming either, but i wanted to see you guys before school started and we'd get too caught up in everything," the brunette explained which made them smile.

"i can't believe school's gonna start again. feels like it just ended," gabe chuckled.

"don't remind me," ryan groaned earning more laughs from the other two.

the three quickly filled each other in on the things they missed. it felt like old times when everyone was in michigan together spending weekends sitting on a floor going back and forth with stupid little games. all of that felt like such simpler times because no feelings were involved. at least not any known feelings.

things settled a bit as samy and the boys ate their sandwiches they ordered and the topic shifted to one samy knew was gonna come up eventually.

"i don't know if i've said this to you, but will's a real idiot," gabe said quietly.

samy's jaw clenched a bit, "yeah, he is."

"have you..talked to him at all?" ryan wondered and the girl instantly shook her head.

"no and i don't really want to. i don't even know what i'd say to him or what he could say that would make me forgive him. he threw it all away and that really fucking hurts," samy admitted truthfully.

"right and you have every right to not wanna talk to him. he was an asshole for not trying to talk things out with you," gabe nodded in agreement.

"can i just say one thing though? i'm no way trying to defend anything that he said or did, but you gotta remember how will is with this kind of stuff sometimes. he says the wrong things when he's thinking something else. you guys were best friends above everything. you know him better than any of us probably. you really want to leave things on this note?" ryan said softly.

samy's gaze flicked away from the boys knowing ryan did have a small point in the back of her mind, but she wasn't ready to admit that. things were confusing and hard.

being back in boston had this pull on her. everything she's ever known came from michigan and boston—will being one of those things. he hurt her so badly, yet a really, really small part of her wanted to reach out.

"it doesn't matter anymore, ry. he meant what he said and even if he didn't wanna say it, he still did. i was basically worthless to him," samy couldn't though. her head overruled her heart knowing she needed to stand her ground because there was nothing more she could say to him.

—

will's entire house was packed with people. room to room, wall to wall, lawn to lawn—there were people everywhere. ryan wasn't wrong that samy could lose herself pretty easily into the crowd.

she hung outside a lot because out there she could escape anywhere if she saw will whereas inside could end up trapping her if she wasn't careful. she happily caught up with drew, aram, vote, and cutter who greeted her with bright smiles.

the idea of even being in the same proximity as will sent goosebumps down the girl's arms. her eyes were constantly flicking around as if she would see him turn some corner and make eye contact.

somehow, she managed to find a corner where it wasn't too crowded by the lawn chairs. the youngest hughes sat out on them just people watching when familiar locks of blonde hair started coming her way. for a moment, samy tensed, wondering how grace took the news about their breakup because she hadn't exactly talked to the oldest smith sibling since it happened.

"hey, samy," the older girl greeted warmly.

"hi, gracie," samy smiled, relaxing a bit when she saw the girl's smile.

"i'm happy to see you. it's been awhile," grace found a seat beside her for a moment while the brunette nodded a bit.

"yeah, it has," her gaze flicked away because they both knew why it had been awhile since they saw one another. grace didn't make a huge appearance at the family vacation a few months ago since she was busy apartment hunting and even then, her and samy didn't talk much because they never got to catch one another at the right time.

"this might be a stupid question, but..how are you?" the older girl wondered gently.

"i'm..i'm okay. hanging in there, i guess," samy nodded, biting the inside of her cheek.

"i'm sorry i haven't talked to you since..i don't want you to think i hate you or anything. last month was super busy and you looked busy and i didn't know if it was too soon to ask about everything.." grace trailed off a bit when she realized she was rambling. samy quickly shook her head.

"don't worry about it. i was worried you hated me," a small laugh sounded from the soccer players lips.

"oh my god no! i don't. i promise. i actually..am mad at will for how all of this happened. i..i was shocked when you left and i found will out there..i'm sorry. i..i wish i had an answer for my brother's reason, but i don't. i..i don't know why he broke up with you," grace frowned deeply.

"i left in such a mess, i'm sorry again. everything happened way too fast," samy shook her head.

"have you talked to him since.."

"ry and gabe asked me that yesterday and i said no. i mean, i have nothing to say to him, so why would i, you know?" the brunette shrugged.

"right, of course. mom told him this morning you and your mom were coming. that went over..interesting to say the least," grace tapped her finger against her cup.

"i've been avoiding him, i guess. i'm not sure i can really stomach seeing him, but..i don't know. felt like i owed it to him to be here at least? and the other guys too. don't know when i'll see them again. this whole thing feels like it screwed up everything with everyone," samy laughed dryly.

"i get it. i'm glad you did come. i saw your mom earlier, it was good to see her. even if will won't admit it, i know he's glad you're at least here too. one last hurrah before we move him out to california," grace said.

samy thought back to all the times will would talk about his move to cali whenever it happened. he'd always say how she'd fly out with him to help him decorate his apartment when the time came. plus, all the times will told her how he couldn't wait until they could live together so long distance would be over, yet he'd wait forever for her.

god, what happened to that will?

"you're thinking," the blonde pointed out, snapping samy back into reality.

while will knew her insanely well, so did grace. the two girls did grow up alongside one another even though there was a three year age gap. grace was the older sister samy never had as a little girl and she still was, so of course the older girl knew when samy was lost in thought.

"yeah, sorry," the younger girl shook her head.

"penny for your thoughts?" the expression made samy smile because will said the same thing.

"just how will always talked about me being there with him when he moved to california and how he couldn't wait until i was done with school to move out there with him. i wonder where that will went who was so ambitious about us and saying he would wait forever for me," the younger girl smiled sadly.

a little sigh escaped grace's lips hearing samy sound so heartbroken still. "i wish i knew what was running through his mind. i didn't even know he was considering it. it shocked the hell out of all of us. he's in there still somewhere, i know it and i know you don't wanna hear that, but i gotta believe it. i have never seen my brother like someone as much as he likes you, it confuses me how he just threw it all away like that," the blonde shook her head.

"you and me both," samy frowned this time.

"i think you just gotta give it time because damn, all of us believed you guys were it for each other. you'll find your way back, i think you two just need some space. will needs to settle in california and play a few games with the sharks and then i'm sure he'll come around. i don't believe this is the true end for you guys," grace said firmly.

the youngest hughes wanted to believe her so badly, but she just couldn't.

"maybe. it's hard to say though," samy said instead of being a complete pessimist about it.

the party ended a few hours later with samy successfully avoiding any contact with will. she didn't even see him which was surprising because she knew he was making his rounds.

her and her mom drove back to the hotel in silence just unwinding from the long day and talking to everyone they saw.

samy was brushing her teeth when her mom stuck her head in. the younger girl raised her eyebrow in confusion.

"i have a gift from you from someone i spoke to today," ellen said vaguely. the brunette raised her eyebrow.

"who?"

mrs. hughes didn't say anything while she just placed the envelope into samy's hand. the girl saw her name scribbled across the top in handwriting that she quickly recognized as will's. samy's gaze snapped to her mom's.

"i told him he's gonna do great in san jose," ellen said because she knew her daughter knew who that envelope was from.

the older woman slipped out of the bathroom leaving samy with the gift in her hand. she should've thrown it away, but curiosity got the better of her and she carefully ripped it open.

there wasn't any note or card, only a small charm of a shark.

her eyes danced to the charm bracelet sitting on her wrist that held her most precious charms.

will knew everything about her charm bracelet because he supplied most of the charms on the chain.

she remembered seeing the shark charm in some little gift shop with will many months ago, quickly mumbling something about how adorable it was and would fit the aesthetic for will's soon to be san jose career.

she had no idea will went back to buy it for her.

samy even wondered how long he's had it for.

without a word, samy clipped it onto the chain, adding one more pretty charm to her bracelet and a tiny smile painted her lips.

[fatswaps]

NURSE BODY THEFT

Lucas had been a lovely young man his whole life, with a passion for helping others out. It was why he'd studied medicine to become a nurse. At only 26 years old, the young man had it all- a well paying job at a local hospital, an amazing body he'd worked hard for, and a pretty decent reputation in his neighborhood. This reputation was mostly because of his part time job, which involved helping his sickly neighbor Hector.

Hector was an old veteran, the man was 87 years old, and his body was simply ruined. His hair was patchy and balding, with a completely white beard on his wrinkly facem his eyesight wasn't very good hence why he had to wear glasses and his 5,4 height was certainly not complimented by his morbid obesity. The old guy's health had been in decline for years, but Lucas was determined to make his last years more comfortable for the old man.

Unbeknownst to Lucas, Hector didn't see him as a means of making peace with his old age, but rather a way to escape it. One day, he invited Lucas over and showed him a strange device. Telling Lucas that it was an heirloom from his days as a soldier, Hector explained the device's purpose.

"This here is what the military called a swap gun. It's used to switch the bodies of two people that are consecutively shot by it"

Lucas seemed intrested, but his expression changed as Hector begun to explain what his idea was

"I'm getting older Lucas, and I want to feel what it's like to be young again, at least for a few hours. Would you let me switch bodies with you? It's completely reversible"

Feeling sorry for the old man, Hector sighed and responded

"If you really think it'll work, then sure. It's only a few hours, right?"

with that, the old man handed Lucas the device as his bedridden self was unable to stand long enough to do the job. With a deep breath, Lucas first shot himself and then Hector and suddenly everything fell silent.

When Lucas came to, he felt a crushing weight almost gluing him to the bed he was now laying in. With a struggle, the young man now turned old and fat sat up to see that his old body was nowhere to be seen. Spotting a note on his bed's side, Lucas begun to read

"Thanks for the body, Lucas! I'll be sure to get it back to you after I have some fun today. Until then, enjoy the pipe I left for you and watch some TV!"

With that, Lucas turned to the mirror to look at himself. He was hideous, his body a mess. He couldn't believe the swap actually worked and his mind was racing, but he kept himself composed as he reminded himself that Hector would swap them back tonight. So, he did as Hector suggested and decided to try that pipe.

As the day slowly came to an end, Lucas was beginning to get anxious. Looking at his huge, slob like body- he longed to be his old self again. After several hours of waiting, Lucas realized how boring and difficult Hector's life was. He needed help to even get up and go to the bathroom, and he was constantly out if breath.

Suddenly the door opened and a familiar sight walked into the room. There was a confident smirk on Lucas' face, now belonging to Hector. He walked up to the bedside table and placed a hand on Lucas's fat belly

"Damn. I really let myself go in these years haven't I? I won't miss this old body."

Lucas seemed distressed as he frantically looked up at his old body

What do you mean- I- I thought we were swapping back!"

Hector let out a booming laugh as he grabbed the letter from Lucas's hands and crumbled it up

"No way I'm going back in that disgusting body. Enjoy being a fat fart for the rest of your life Lucas, not like you have much time left hahah!"

Hector than flashed his new abs at the crying old man Lucas was now permanently stuck as before leaving Lucas behind to helplessly struggle in his bed. Soon moving away from the neighborhood never to be seen again.

As Hector enjoyed his new life, Lucas was left helpless as he didn't even have the support of another person to help him out. After a few months passed from the swap, Lucas was admitted to a mental hospital for saying stuff like his body was stolen. That was where he spent the rest of his days, as he passed away due to his morbid obesity three years after the swap.

He'd only gotten fatter, hairier and balder as he'd aged, his youth stolen from him by a selfish old man.

[dduane]

Hope this isn't an ask you get all the time, but how do you track your progress when you're doing editing?

Everyone talks about word goals, and that seems fine for a first draft, but doesn't make sense to me when it comes to revisions. Do you have any kind of system for setting daily goals for your revisions?

Actually, I don't think anyone's ever asked me about this. :) So no sweat.

Briefly: I think you're wise in not attempting wordcounting in this phase of dealing with an MS—or trying to push yourself into a structure so rigid. ...There's this, too: there's a whole lot too much emphasis out there at the moment on trying to force yourself into other people's writing and editing paradigms—so many of them riddled with bar graphs and "demonstrable" daily progress. You need to find what works for you. More words dealt with in a day, sure, that's encouraging in its way. But are they the right words?

Today’s Writer Take that will probably strike some as Hot (and ask me if I care): Some kinds of writing progress are just neither graphically nor numerically quantifiable. And damned to the least TripAdvisorally-acceptable regions of [insert your preferred underworld here] be those who’ve tried to sell people the idea that they are.

(sigh)

Now, for what it's worth: here's how I do it. Which may be useful to other people, or not so much so. And that's fine, because I'm not editing their novels. :)

(Adding a break here. Under the cut: advice + advice = advice, and some images of text I shouldn't be letting y'all see just yet... but WTF.)

Revision for me is a fairly relaxed business—unless my editor has told me WE NEED THIS ON TUESDAY, which thank sweet Thoth on his e-bike is very rare.

It also helps that I like revising. (When I was a kid, I liked liver, too. And spinach. Just call me Miss Outlier and let's move on.) I really enjoy the feeling of the work’s rough edges being filed down and the sparse places being filled out.

And also: second draft/first revision draft is nowhere near as tense for me as first draft. Because, thank God, at least there's a book.

First draft is where I sweat blood and otherwise suffer. While I can see the story just fine in my head, it's not really real for me until the first draft, whole in narrative and action, is complete on paper/in the machine. And till it's achieved at least that level of reality, I can't relax.

But by the time I hit my second/revision draft, I can be confident that any really serious problems in the novel have already been solved—because I'm an outliner. In the outline stage, potential thematic or structural troubles will routinely have revealed themselves way long ago: before drafting even got started, as I first wired the story's bones together. The successfully-executed first draft acts as proof-of-concept for that structural wiring. By the time that draft’s done, it’s immediately apparent whether the skeleton can successfully stand up by itself. And gods is that a relief when it does! You’re tempted to jump around yelling “It's aliiiiiive!" as the lightning strikes around you.*

However, if after submitting that draft my editor's found something structurally or thematically troublesome in it that I've completely missed until this point, my first order of business becomes to fix whatever their notes involve and submit the fixes. Nothing further happens until the editor sees what I've done about those problems, and until I get agreement that whatever intervention I've enacted has now sorted the problems out.

After that, everything happens in bed.

(...casually noting that for a line to use somewhere else...) :)

But seriously: I do my best revision and editing before getting up in the morning.

Some of this is because, for me, the mind's nice and quiet and (theoretically) at least moderately well rested, right after sleep. I might take the briefest glance at my email first to make sure nothing urgent needs attention... but once that’s done, I refuse to let myself go any further down that hole. That early-morning calm is a mental state I'm glad to exploit, and one I jealously guard. On days when I'm forced to do without the working lie-in**, I use a different approach: when there's a pause, sit down and do nothing—no reading, no video, no music, no phone, nothing—for half an hour: then start editing. Routinely, the quiet I need will once more have fallen.

The in-bed-editing approach also works for me because (since I'm working in Scrivener) it's absolutely no big deal to finish a day's editing on a file by exporting a version of the file containing the day's edits to ebook format, and into my Dropbox. From there, in the morning, without ever getting out from under the covers, I can pull that .epub file into my tablet and read it as an ebook, making corrections and notes there.

This is what it looks like (on a page without too many corrections) if the app you're using is "Books" in an iPad. The second image is what you get when you touch on the marginal yellow square of the note to examine it.

Then, when I'm finished looking over the previous day's/evening's writing and adding notes to it, I go downstairs, get some caffeine in me, and make the changes in the main Scrivener file. (If I was running the project in question on the iPad version of Scrivener, I'd just make the change right there. But who knows when I'd actually get up, then? Better to do it this way.) :)

In the normal flow of things I'll attempt to deal with a chapter or two a day in this mode. (Always bearing in mind that my chapters in early drafts typically run long—often 10K or so—and I'm likely enough to rebreak them later.) This first level of revision is the easy one: catching typos and bad or clumsy phrasings, reworking character interactions that need smoothing out; adding better descriptive passages (with particular emphasis on staying in the visual, audio and tactile senses), etc., etc.

So again: no way I'd ever bother worrying about word counts, with these. What seems to count for more is giving yourself time to recognize, gradually, at a reader's pace, what's working in the prose and what isn't. Rush—or try to force the pace to a given number of words per day—and you run the risk of missing something vital. To me, at the tracking level, it seems sufficient to note which chapters have been dealt with, and which are still hanging fire. (I can change the chapters' color labels in Scrivener to make this status visible at a glance, if I need to.)

When everything's dealt with on this pass—which if I'm lucky will take no more than a couple/few weeks—I try to take a couple weeks off before dealing with the MS again. Sometimes that's possible: sometimes not. The longer you can leave the book alone to let your perceptions of it rest and reset themselves, the better. Distance—mental or temporal—seems to lend clarity.

In any case, for me, next comes another pass, tougher to describe. Casually, I refer to it as the "Missed Opportunities/Complications" pass. This is a thing that one of the very best writers I know, John M. Ford, used to do. One of his editors (I think it was) came across him working on an MS one time, and asked him what he was doing. "Complications," Mike muttered. "Removing them?" said his editor. Mike shook his head. "Adding them," he said.

In this pass you look for in-novel connections you've previously missed making. Some dramatic moments have their impact significantly increased if you've found a way to connect them, even casually, with previous events, situations, character thoughts, or dialogue. (The cheap and easy mnemonic for this kind of thing: "Say a thing twice, and it echoes. Say it three times, and it resonates.")

Equally, events (and people) may turn out to require more complex backstory than you've given them in your first draft; so this is where you take care of that. And of course there are almost certainly character and emotional interactions that can use attention; fewer words, more depth, more complexity. What things do these people, in this situation, need to say to one another that they haven't? And also, what drama got scamped or passed up on because you were just too damn tired in the last draft? —Because you too, poor baby, are human; and that state can, entirely logically, make you want not to deal with any more damn drama just now. Even though drama is the lifeblood of your narrative, usually, and tying a tourniquet around it really doesn't help. You are the conduit of power into your narrative, and your varying ability to conduct it is always an issue… so you need to keep an eye open for places where the flow may have temporarily failed.

This pass, ideally, might take no more than another few weeks or a month. And again, I'm not sure any attempt at wordcount tracking would do this work any good. Because, again... are they the right words? And to make the narrative more effective, you may wind up removing as many words as you added in previous passes.

Finally, with all things taken together, I usually reach a point where (by myself, anyway) I can't think of anything to do that'll make this book any better. That's where there then comes—and again, impossible to assign a word count to it—a time when you know you're as Done As You Can Be. If you've been doing this long enough, you may even hear a strange kind of sigh in the back of your head, as the book gives up and lets go...

...into the next stage of production. But even then you keep an eye on it… because in my experience it’s rare that any book's ever that easily just finished. Even in page proofs, something may happen to surprise you.

Anyway, that's when I throw the book the hell out of the house—because no matter how much I've loved it previously, by that time I'm usually seriously tired of it—and wait to see whether the editor feels it needs one more draft. (Disclosure: this has never happened. There might be a few notes that need to be handled. But another full draft? Never yet.)

Anyway: hope this is of help to you.

But the heart of it all? Find your own way, and screw the bar graphs.

*That line, too, is an indicator of trouble to come. "It's?" Not "he's"? Tsk tsk.

**Usually sort of 7-9 AM. Sometimes way earlier, depending on the time of year. Dawn comes real early in the summertime in Ireland…

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [24]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: [18+ only] controlled training combat, self defense lessons, smut (we're finally here, folks), oral female receiving

Word Count: 6,444

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: so sorry this took nine thousand years. i probably have more announcements here but i'm bone tired so let's get on with it lolol also lowkey i did not edit this one to the degree in which i should have i am so sorry]

#24: RIGHT BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS

"i'm not sure what this is between us, but i am sure that i don't want it to stop, whatever it is." -j.a. redmerski

What does one wear on a date where combat was the plan? It wasn’t a question you thought you’d ever be asking yourself, yet here you were. After staring at your options for another beat, you grabbed something you’d be able to move in. The more athletic clothing you owned weren’t really the cutest, but your goal with them was focused on utility. You could always save the cute outfit for your part of the date tonight. The idea of impressing Din by being competent on his date and then pretty on yours was appealing to you.

Din was dropping Grogu off with Peli until tomorrow morning. With every second he was gone, you found yourself more nervous. Being with Din was always so easy. That was part of the reason why you fell for him so fast. Having him as a cemented part of your day was natural. So, it made no sense that you would be nervous at all, but it seemed the butterflies in your belly didn’t give a damn about logic.

You wandered back out into the main room of the house and let your eyes glance over the decor you had already set up. The second Din had left the house you had tossed up the decorations. In preparation for tonight, you had food prepped in the fridge for dinner and you had hung string lights all over the kitchen and living room. A blanket was laid out on the floor with a few pillows just for comfort. It was a simple set up and initially it had excited you, but in the time it took for you to get dressed for your combat date your anxiety had grown. What if it were too simple? What if you didn’t know Din as well as you thought you did?

Before you could second guess yourself any further, you hurried out of the house. Din had told you to meet him at the tarmac which caught you off guard. You assumed this would be taking place at least on world. It made you curious as to what he had planned exactly. On your way to the tarmac, you returned the greetings to those who waved to you. A few even tried to stop you to ask about something medical and you had to politely point them toward the clinic where they’d find Aayla. Any other day and you’d linger to help, but you had a Mandalorian waiting for you.

You had only stepped a few feet onto the tarmac when a hand was suddenly in yours and dragging you through rows of parked ships. “Din?” You questioned the shiny, beskar covered man. “Hi to you too, honey.”

“I’ve had three different people try and stop me to ask about one problem or another.” Din grunted.

“Aw,” You chuckled, “I had people try to stop me for medical advice! Look at us. Staples of the community.”

“Today, they need to make do without two staples.”

It had been a surprise when Din pulled you onto the little starship, but you were completely caught off guard when said ship broke through the atmosphere of a small, green world. You gazed out through the glass at the greenery that formed the large jungle you now flew over. He said he was taking you to a nearby, abandoned and uninhabited moon.

“Din…” You breathed in shock. Maker, this no named moon was gorgeous.

“You said you missed seeing the color green.” Din replied simply. Your eyes snapped to him in awe. It had been a toss away comment made quite some time ago. Growing up on Naboo, you had raised with forests and bodies of water. Then you bounced from Coruscant to Tatooine to Nevarro where the ground was non-existent or dry. 

Din steered the ship toward a clearing in the jungle that sat on the edge of a cliff side where you had a view of the never ending trees. It was just shades of green and blue as far as your eyes could see. As soon as the ship was safely parked, you leapt out of your seat and rushed down the now lowering ramp. 

The air was cool and humid. You took in a deep breath and marveled at how the smell of earth and vegetation filled your lungs. Din’s heavy steps came up behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to give him a broad grin. You were beaming in the reflection of his visor.

“So, this is okay?” He asked with an almost nervous tinge to his voice.

“Okay?” You laughed. “Din, this is…” You shook your head and threw your arms around his neck. Din didn’t hesitate to wrap his own arms around your midsection and hold you close. “Thank you for this.”

“You may want to hold off on thanking me.” Din chuckled in your ear. “We haven’t even gotten to the rest of the date.”

You pulled back with a smirk and held a finger up at him. “I think you mean ‘courting session’.” Din let out a soft laugh before letting his hands fall from your side. You watched curiously as he began to unlatch portions of his armor. Your eyes widened and you glanced around outside the ship as if there would suddenly be a crowd where there hadn’t been one before. “What’re you doing?”

“We’re going to spar.” Din replied simply. “I want to make sure you can defend yourself.”

“And you need to strip down… why?”

Din huffed, “I’m not stripping down. I’m just removing my beskar.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You crossed your arms with a quirk of your eyebrow, “Who says you’re not the one who is gonna get hurt here?” Din laughed while pulling off his chest piece. The laugh was accurate. There was no way in hell you were going to even land a hit on him unless he wanted you to, but you feigned shock and disbelief. “Wow. How smug of you, Mandalorian.”

Din tilted his helmet at you in a ‘really?’ manner while pulling his cloak off. It left him in just his dark brown flight suit and you shouldn’t have found the plain outfit as attractive as you did. You continued to stand there and stare with a smile as he pulled off his gloves and kicked off his boots. Din set his hands on his hips, and you motioned toward his clothes. “Feel free to keep going. I won’t mind.”

“Alright, enough.” Din chuckled and set his hands on your shoulder. He turned you around and lightly pushed you out of the ship. You laughed under your breath and once you stood where he wanted in the field by the ship, he let his hands drag down to your hips. You expected him to spin you to face him, but instead he just took a step closer. You sucked in a sharp breath through your nose at the feel of his chest against your back. In a softer voice, he leaned his head closer to the side of yours. “How much self-defense do you know?”

“Oh, you know, the basics.” You mumbled with a little shrug. If you had to quantify the self defense you knew it would probably add up to less than the basics. Suddenly, before you could even blink, Din’s right arm wrapped around your neck in a choke hold. Your eyes widened and your hands lifted to grip the crook of his elbow to try and pull him away. “Dank farrik!”

Din flexed his arm enough for you to feel it but it wasn’t cutting off your air flow. You felt nervous for a whole other reason. His helmet was pressed against the side of your face in this hold, and he was so close that you could hear the slight static hum of his modulator. “Escape me, ner kar’ta.” You swallowed nervously and tried uselessly to tug Din’s arm away from your throat. He chuckled and you tried to kick his legs but even when you did make contact he didn’t budge. “You can do better than that.”

You thrashed your shoulders with a grunt, but he locked his grip. Din lifted you up so your toes only barely brushed the ground and began to drag you backwards. You yelped in surprise and rapidly tapped against his arm⏤ the universal sign for giving in.

Din set you back down and loosened his arm to hold you by the arms, “You alright?”

“Yeah, I am.” You replied. “I just didn’t see myself getting out of that anytime soon.”

He chuckled and slipped his arm back where it had been. Din nudged you and your hands went back to the crook of his elbow. “Step one foot forward.” You stepped out with your left foot. “And use your other foot to slip to the side and turn around. You wanna⏤”

Without waiting for the rest of his sentence, you tried to slip to his right side, but the second you tried to turn you found his hold around your neck tighter as he pinned you to his side. Din let out a soft laugh, and you beat on his back a bit to try and pull out.

“You slipped out the wrong way.” Din said.

“I noticed, thanks.” You muttered.

Din loosened his hold enough that you could straighten back up. “Try the other way.” You did the same thing, but this time you spun toward the left. Now, you were facing Din’s chest with his arm resting on the back of your neck and shoulders. “Good. Now push me away.” With all your strength, you shoved against Din’s midsection and you stumbled apart. “Very good, ner kar’ta. Again.”

He made you do it a few more times with his arm tighter each pass, and it got easier and more smooth every time you did it. You did it one more time, grinning triumphantly when you pushed him away, but this time Din lunged to grab you. His leg hit the back of yours and you went sprawling back. A cry of surprise left your lips and you braced for the blow of hitting the ground. However, at last minute Din caught you and carefully laid you against the grass the two of you were practicing on.

You opened your mouth to complain, but found your voice missing. Din was straddling you with his knees pressed to the ground on either side of your hip. He held himself up so he was carrying his weight on his knees and not crushing you. The sight of Din towering over you like this made you ache with need. He was right there. You could drag your hands up his thick thighs and to his belt with such ease. If this was affecting him the same way it was you, he didn't show it.

The sound of overhead thunder from distant storm clouds made Din look up as he searched for the source. Seeing your opportunity, you sat up and threw yourself forward to push Din backwards. Caught off guard, he fell back and you threw yourself on top of him. “Ha! I⏤” You didn't register what Din did, his movements were a quick blur of color, and suddenly you were on your back again, “Hey!”

Din grabbed your wrists to pin on the ground by your head. Rather than straddling you, this time he was situated between your legs. Oh, Maker. This was worse in the best kind of way. Din tilted his head, “That was cheating.” 

“Whoops?” You gave him a sheepish smile. Din shifted so his weight was pinning your arms down rather than resting on the back of his calves. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You know, I thought combat meant I was gonna get to punch and kick you more.”

“Should I be worried about how eager you are to punch me?”

You laughed, “Really though.”

“The chances of you being in an actual fist fight is lower than you being placed in a hold.”

“I mean, I’m planning to avoid both of those options.”

“I like that plan, but it’ll help me sleep at night knowing you at least know how to free yourself.” Din replied with a low chuckle. His hands lifted off your wrists to place a light hold on your throat. Your chin tilted up, making room for his large hands, and your reflection in his visor showed you that you were not hiding how badly you wanted him. Din didn’t apply any more pressure than the light hold he already had on you, but he did lower his face closer to yours, “You think you can focus and get out of this hold before we get rained out?”

You squirmed under him, hips shifting against his, and you felt his body stiffen. A slow smile crossed your face as you moved your hips more deliberately this time. Din let out a soft grunt, and you chuckled, “Guess that depends. You think you can teach me how without getting distracted?”

“Wayii, ner kar’ta.” Din murmured. He lifted a hand off your neck to grab your right hand and set it on the wrist of the hand still pretending to choke you. “Hold here and…” Din set your other hand on his left shoulder. “With this hold, you’re gonna pivot out from under me and put me in an arm bar.”

“Um, sure.” You said skeptically.

Din nodded to your left leg, “Put that foot against my hip so you can lift your other. You need it across my shoulder blades.” You tried to do as he said and it forced your hips up from the ground in a position that felt unnatural. “Good, good. Now that foot on my hip? Lift it and throw it over my head so both your legs are resting on my same shoulder.” With a grunt you did just that and it left the arm you had been holding trapped between your arms. Naturally, the hand that was on his shoulder fell to hold his wrist and you pushed your hip back down to the ground and it forced Din onto his back as you straightened your body. “Good, that’s⏤ah!” He tapped the thigh laying on his throat. “Good.”

 You let go of him, but the moment you did he was on top of you once more. You cried out, startled, but Din had his hands at your throats. “Again. Faster.” 

He squeezed just enough to get you moving. You followed his instructions, trying to remember each step, and you successfully got him into another arm bar. You let go of his arm so you weren’t accidentally hurting him, but you kept your legs where they were. One rested over his neck, right under his helmet, and the other on his lower chest. His arm bent so he could rest his hand on your thigh and he gave it a playful squeeze. 

Din began to laugh and the sound was so relaxed, so boyish, that it brought a warm smile to your face. You sat up, leaning back on your hands, and stared down at him. His entire body was relaxed as he lazily dragged his hand back and forth on your thigh.

“This position can’t possibly be comfortable.” You teased.

Din’s helmet turned to look back at you. “Ner kar’ta, I could spend the rest of my life right here.” He squeezed your thigh again and chuckled. “Right between your thighs.” Your face grew warm at his words and Din rubbed your leg. “You’re doing so good. Making me proud.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and watched as a drop of water plinked against Din’s helmet. Then there was a second, then a third, and then you and Din were in a downpour. You pulled your legs off him and the two of you scrambled off the ground and back to the cover of the ship. 

“Just… Just give it a minute or two.” Din stood at the edge of the cover so he could peer up at the now dark sky. “It’ll pass.” The clouds had rolled in quick and sudden, but they lingered. A full ten minutes passed and Din stood in his frustrated dad pose at the end of the ramp. You wandered down to stand beside him. He sighed, “I'm so sorry. If I had known it was going to rain I would’ve taken us somewhere else.”

“Din, this place is perfect.”

“It’s storming.”

“Yeah, but,” You set your hand on his arm, “We’re together.” Din turned his head to glance at you. “That’s all that matters.” The tension in his shoulders seemed to melt. You held your hand out to feel the rain against your skin. A thought occurred to you. “When’s the last time you felt the rain on your face?”

Din shrugged, “I fell into the Living Waters.”

“That’s called drowning,” You shook your head, “And it doesn’t count.”

“I took a shower last night.”

“Still not the same.”

He shrugged in response.

You squeezed his arm, “Well, this moon is uninhabited according to you. I can sit in the ship with the ramp up, and give you a second.” He tilted his head in what you assumed was confusion. “Everyone deserves to feel the rain on their face. Just to⏤ to feel alive, and we’re not getting any rain storms in Nevarro anytime soon.”

Din nodded once. You turned to walk back into the ship, but his hand slipped into yours. He squeezed your hand and pulled you out into the rain. You flinched at the first few drops, the cold water startling even knowing it was coming, and on instinct you lifted your head up so the rain splattered across your face. Din’s hand left yours but it was quick to find your skin once more. He cupped your jawline and you tore your gaze from the sky to his visor. His thumb dragged against your cheekbone.

“Close your eyes.” Din whispered.

Without hesitation, you let your eyes fall shut. Din’s hand fell away from your face. You heard the hiss of his helmet followed by the soft thud of heavy beskar landing on soft grass. More than anything in the worlds, you wished you could watch him experience this. Din let out a quiet sigh, close to a soft moan, and your lips twitched up into a smile. A pair of hands cupped your face and your own hands rose to rest on top of his. Din was close⏤ his body radiated heat. The tip of his thumb traced your bottom lip. 

“Gar're bid mesh'la.” Din murmured and he was close enough that you felt his warm breath fan across your mouth. “So beautiful, ner kar’ta.” Warm lips slotted against yours and you breathed Din in. As always, Din kissed you with every part of who he was⏤ every single time was its own unique experience. His hands roamed down your body, never leaving contact, until they found your hips. Din’s lips broke from yours but continued to brush against yours as he sucked in a breath, “I… You’re so important to me.” The hands on your hips slipped up and under your shirt. His touch hot against your cold, damp skin. “Everything, ner kar’ta.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull his lips back against yours. The kiss was bruising. A desperate tangle of teeth and tongue in a attempt to get closer⏤ as if he wasn’t already pinning the two of you chest to chest with his strong arms. The kiss began to simmer in desperation, but the passion remained. Even when it seemed slow as you caught your breath, he continued to lightly press his lips against yours in soft, chaste kisses. As if he couldn’t stand being apart. 

“Din…” You murmured softly. Thunder rumbled overhead. The power of the sound competed with the pounding of your heart. Din nipped at your lower lip before dragging the tip of his tongue against the spot. You let out a soft sigh, and he pulled your lower lips between his own. His hands had slipped out of your shirt so they could instead cup your face and tilt your face at the ideal angle to allow him to continue his onslaught. He dragged his lips across your cheek until they pressed against the skin right under your ear. An involuntary shiver rocketed down your spine and you trembled enough that Din must have felt it.

“I need to get you out of the rain before you catch a cold.” Din mumbled against your skin.

You sighed and when he tried to pull back you trapped him by wrapping your arms around his torso, “That’s an old wives’ tale. Being in the rain doesn’t make you sick.”

“Fine, doc. I need to get you out of the rain before we get struck by lightning.”

“If you want I can make up some statistics about lightning strikes.”

Din chuckled, his chest rumbling with the sound, and you felt him kneel down. You stayed in place until the cool metal of his helmet pressed against your forehead. At the reassuring touch, you let your eyes flutter open. In his visor’s reflection, you saw what a mess you were. Soaked to the bone with swollen lips. You groaned, “Maker, I look like a drowned porg.”

“A very cute, drowned porg.”

You shoved at his chest with a laugh and Din chuckled and began to drag you back toward the ship. The two of you left puddles in the ship and you helped Din get his armor back on. It couldn’t possibly be comfortable with how wet his flight suit was, but he’d be parking in a populated area of Nevarro and couldn’t go without it. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.” Din said as you sat down in the co-pilot seat.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you dare apologize for the best first ‘courting session’ ever.”

Din let out a soft laugh and brought the ship up into the air. His hand reached over to rest on your thigh⏤ fingers curling into your skin as his thumb rubbed back and forth. You leaned back in your seat and despite the gorgeous scenery right outside the window, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his form.

There was never a lull in the conversation with Din. Talking to him always came naturally. It made you silly for ever being nervous about your portion of the date in the first place. After getting back to Nevarro, the two of you had gone back home and when Din saw the decor you babbled through an anxious explanation of your plans. He had been delighted at the sound of it. It took no time for the two of you to clean up after the courting session episode. Din traded his armor for a t-shirt and sweatpants, and you had tosses aside the wet work out clothes to put on a simple dress that made you feel cute with buttons down the torso.

Din hovered over you while you made food and helped despite you telling him he didn’t need to. Then, the two of you just enjoyed one another’s company. Back to back, eating dinner, and basking in the glow of the string lights you had hung up.

“This really is so incredible. Thank you.” Din said.

You set aside your bowl with a chuckle, “You don’t have to thank me for that, Din.”

“No, I do. I know this isn’t…” Din paused and there was a tension in his voice you couldn’t quite place. He sighed, “This isn’t typical. I’m sorry I can’t take you to a restaurant in town and sit across from you for a normal meal.”

“Din, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But⏤”

“I don’t care about any of that.” You shook your head. “I’d have every single meal, for the rest of my life, hidden away or in private as long as it meant I got to have them with you. That’s all that matters.”

You felt him begin to turn and immediately shut your eyes with a mumble that he was safe. Din’s fingers found the side of your face and you allowed your body to follow his movements as he pulled you to face him. His lips were on yours again with no preamble or hesitation. It only lasted a brief moment, pure and chaste, before he separated to lean his forehead against yours.

“You’re too good to me.” Din’s voice sounded hoarse as his hand traced the side of your face. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve to be cared about⏤ you deserve to be…” The word ‘loved’ sat on the ip of your tongue, and you only barely caught it in your mouth before it tumbled out. You were confident of how you felt, and you were highly suspicious that Din was on the same page as you, but it was still terrifying to consider saying it out loud. “You deserve this and more, honey.”

“Have I told you how much I enjoy hearing you call me honey?” Din leaned back in and began to pepper kisses across your lower face.

“It’s come up a time or two.” You teased in response. He ghosted up your jawline, his breath hot on your skin, until they wrapped around your earlobe⏤ teeth nipping at it lightly. You couldn’t hold back a soft moan. “Maker, Din.” You felt his chuckle as he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck. Din carefully tilted your chin up and to the side so he could finish his line of kiss down your neck. “Keep this up and I’m… I’m not gonna want to get up, and I have dessert in the fridge for us.”

Din shook his head and dragged his nose up against the column of your neck to find your ear once more, “I have dessert right here, ner kar’ta.” His words, in that deep, honeyed voice, sent shivers down your spine. Want pooled in your belly as you melted into his hands. “Do you trust me?”

“Always.” You murmured. Din pulled away from you and you groaned at the loss. “Wait, no,” Din laughed at your whine and the sound was distant, “Come back.”

“Be patient!”

You heard his approach and felt him as he settled in front of you again. Din was wrapping something around your eyes and tied it behind your head. “That feel, alright?” You nodded in response and adjusted the blindfold to sit comfortably on your face. “Just want you to relax and not worry about accidentally opening your eyes or not. This okay?”

“Only if you start touching me again.” You grinned and tilted your chin up a hair. 

“Oh, mesh’la,” Din was quick to cup your face once more and he pushed you back to settle on the blanket softly, “I’m more than happy to.” You had never been happier in your choice of clothing than now with Din unbuttoning the front of your dress. One large hand cupped your breast while the other stayed wrapped around the back of your neck. Din let out a breathless whisper of Mando’a before adding in Basic, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head, “I swear to the Maker if you stop I’ll kick your ass.” Din chuckled and shifted so he could rest between your thighs. You accommodated him by letting your legs fall open to rest on either side of his hips. “I know how to do that now since you taught me.”

“Teaching you how to get out of two holds is a little different from kicking ass.” Din replied amused. His hand left your breast and you felt the tips of his fingers brush against the scar along your collarbone. You stiffened slightly⏤ more out of self consciousness rather than discomfort or fear. Din leaned down until his lips pressed against the skin there. “Do you know how beautiful you are, ner kar’ta? Absolutely gorgeous.” You buried your hand in his soft hair, letting out a sigh, and Din kissed your scar twice more before letting his lips taste the skin of your chest. “Breathtaking.”

His mouth found the curve of upper breast. Din was careful as he pulled your bra down and when the cold air met your now bare nipples you gasped. More breathless Mando’a filled the air and only ended when Din’s lips wrapped around your right nipple as his hand held the underside of your other so his thumb could trace lazy circles around that nipple. Din’s tongue circled your sensitive skin and you groaned⏤ hand tightening in his hair. 

The Mandalorian was new to using his mouth, but just like with kissing he was quick to pick it up and passionate about exploring with his tongue. All of his movements were focused and completed with the discipline of a bounty hunter. Even in a situation that was new to him, he used his body with confidence by dedicating to the action. Din’s mouth spent ample time tasting the skin of both your breasts, sucking and licking, and your entire being felt like it was on fire. Every inch of you craved his touch, you were drunk on him and were left a squirming mess under his strong hands. Pinned to the ground under his broad body and blind to everything but the sound, feel, and smell of him. 

“Maker.” You gasped and tugged on his hair. “You’re killing me, honey. It’s…” He let his teeth lightly graze your overly sensitive nipple and your back arched in an attempt to follow his mouth as he pulled up. “Fuck. It’s so much. Too much.”

Din squeezed the breast his mouth wasn’t on and then crawled up just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips, “Sorry.” He hummed and you could hear the smile he was wearing. “Just can’t help myself.” Suddenly, you felt Din’s hand brush against the outside of your leg. It trailed back and forth from your knee to where the edge of your dress laid. You were already an absolute mess but having his warm touch against your thigh was making the need for him a hundred times worse. “Can I taste you, ner mesh’la kar’ta?”

You sucked in a sharp breath nervously. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip briefly. It had been a little while since you had anyone go down on you, and with the way you felt about Din you wanted things to be perfect. The thought of Din not enjoying himself or just feeling obligated haunted your mind and the anxiety dulled the pleasure. “You know you don’t have to do that, right? It’s not⏤”

“Have to?” Din’s fingers squeezed into the meat of your thigh and your hips involuntarily rolled up marginally to find a source of friction to ease the ache in your core. “There is literally nothing I could want more. I cannot even begin to describe how often I’ve thought of this moment right here.” You gave a small, weak nod. He squeezed your thigh once more. “Wanna hear you say it, ner kar’ta.”

“Yes, Din. Want that⏤ want you now.” Your desire beat out any anxiety you may have felt. 

Din crawled down until he could press a kiss to the inside of your knee. His strong arm wrapped around your thigh, settling on his left shoulder, and you found comfort in that hold. You let out a relaxed breath. Din was safe. There was no reason to feel any anxiety in the arms of this man. With that, the anxiety began to ebb away and with every kiss Din laid on the inside of your thigh gradually traveling up the ache worsened.

The edge of your dress was pushed up with his left hand and it splayed across your abdomen. “This is my first time doing this with my mouth, mesh’la. Tell me if I’m hurting you.” Goosebumps formed across your skin at the cool air that now washed over you, but the weight of his hand seemed to burn straight through you. Din’s mouth pressed against your clothed heat. He kissed through your sinfully soaked underwear. 

“Din,” You gasped, your hand refinding his hair, “Fuck. Din.”

His right hand slipped under the side of your underwear to tug them down your thigh. Din kept your right leg on his left shoulder, unmoving, and he hummed, “Knee to your chest, mesh’la.” You did as he asked and he used the movement to slip your left leg out of your underwear. The second you were uncovered, Din groaned, “Good girl.”

He buried his face into your wet folds in desperation. What Din lacked in precision he made up for with eagerness. He mumbled words of Mando’a straight into your pussy between licking long stripes through your lips. Din worked in broad strokes of his tongue, and every few seconds his nose would find your clit. It’d either brush too lightly for you to fully enjoy or press firmly against it and send jolting strikes of pleasure straight up your spine. 

“Din, Din.” You moaned and he pressed in deeper, his tongue circling your hole. He hadn’t come up for air in a bit and you wondered how he managed to keep this up. Regardless, it was driving you wild. “Baby, please.” Din lifted his head and the sound of him panting was unbelievably attractive to you. “Shit, Din.”

“You alright?”

“Yes. Maker, yes, but…” You groaned. “I know you’re probably not meaning to do this, but you’re teasing me and it’s got me right on the edge.” Din shifted, you heard him chuckle, and before you could try to explain to him what you meant specifically when it came to his mouth, his thumb dragged through your folds up and straight to your clit. He circled it with insane precision and your mouth fell open in a silent cry as the arousal pooling in your lower belly grew and the ache almost sent you over the edge. “Maker! Din!”

Din pulled his thumb away and you were breathless. He placed a chaste kiss to your thigh where he could reach, “I’m not that unfamiliar with it, ner kar’ta. I told you I've used my hands.”

“Gotcha. So you were teasing me on purpose?” You scoffed and Din chuckled. You tugged on his hair and his breathy laugh grew louder. You grinned and shook your head. “You ass.”

“How about I make it up to you?” Din’s lips were back on you and this time he wasn’t just broadly tasting you. His precision had turned deadly and it was devastating how fast he drove you right back to that edge. “Taste so fucking sweet, mesh’la.” His tongue circled your clit before he began to apply enough suction that stars filled your vision. Your body began to tense as you spiraled into your quickly approaching orgasm. Din hummed and spoke against your clit, teeth and tongue brushing against it as the vibrations of his words buzzed against you, “Gonna come, ner kar’ta? Fall apart for me. Let me devour you.”

His lips wrapped around your clit again and the onslaught of his mouth had your orgasm washing over you. You let out a loud cry, his name garbled on your tongue, and as you came down from your high it felt like you were falling into a soft cloud. It was only then that you realized Din hadn’t stopped for a second. The slurping sound of him devouring you was downright filthy and you moaned again.

“Just like I said before, ner kar’ta.” Din dragged his wet lips up to kiss your abdomen in any random spot he could reach. “Could spend eternity between these gorgeous legs.”

You sat up on one elbow and blindly reached out to grab the collar of his shirt. “My turn, honey.” You gave his shirt a few tugs. “Want to taste you too.”

“Who said I was done here?” Din teased. He crawled up your body, still between your legs, and his hips pressed against yours firmly. You felt his hard cock straining against his sweatpants and he let it grind against your messy pussy. You reached down for the waistband of his sweatpants and Din’s hand rested by your neck to hold himself up while his other caressed the column of your neck and along your jaw. “I’m not done eating dessert.”

Your lips curled into a broad smile as you recognized the similar position you were in to what had been going on earlier today. Quickly, your right hand grabbed his left, the one holding him up, and before you could second guess yourself you let your legs kick up just like in the courting session until you were able to push him off you into an arm bar. This was the exact position he had been in last time, but this time you were unable to see him. Still, you felt your legs across his chest as you held his arm between your thighs. 

For a beat it was silent, and you were worried you had upset him in some way, but then he began to laugh. Without the modulator of his helmet, the sound was clear and downright musical. You’d trade your soul if it meant getting to see the way his face looked right now. You wanted to see his smile, wanted to see the lines that formed on his face when he laughed like this.

“Maker, you’re so perfect, ner kar’ta.” Din breathed as his free hand came up to caress your legs. “I can’t begin to… You’re… I…” He let out one more laugh. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

“What does that mean?” You didn’t recognize those words.

“I’ll tell you one day. I promise.”

You chuckled, “Bold of you to deny someone who has you in an arm bar right now, honey.”

The hand you were holding between your legs suddenly tightened around your wrist and he pulled you toward him while pushing your legs off of him. With a yelp of surprise, he had you flipped so your arms and head were laying on his chest while your legs were sprawled out behind you. Din grasped the side of your face to pull you to his lips. His hand raked through your hair lovingly, and you sighed against his kiss. Din swallowed the sound of your content.

You felt so warm and comfortable against Din, and as if you hadn’t been aware of it before, it was startling how much you loved Din Djarin. 

mando'a translations:

ner kar'ta: my heart Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum: I will know you forever Wayii: Good grief Gar're bid mesh'la: You're so beautiful mesh'la: beautiful

taglist (closed):

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

[spacedace]

I know it was a prompt and u said you werent gonna do anything with it (and you so should) but i love ur two posts on the Queen of Clones Elle/Amnesiac Champion Kon AU (especially Kon's knight design (like ghost tattoos?!?!? so so cool) and Elle's relationship with him). Got anymore headcanons about this au? Who are the other clones you envisioned playing the background characters? Do Kon and Tim actually cuddle in the Only One Bed scenario? Does Elle get a cool princess/queen design(s) since Kon gets a knight one? Does Tim walk into Kon's knight practice and have a "oh no he's hot" moment? Just afagshjdksll this au is so cool please tell me all about it

The thing is, whenever I say "I'm going to put X idea here for someone else to grab since I'm never going to do anything with it" I'm lying. I'm a liar. It's still lives in my brain and is taking over all rational thought. I have at least 85% of a story written in my head when I say that, I just know that I'm never going to sit down and actually write it down lol

I have SO MANY thoughts about this AU, you have no idea what you've done asking me about it haha

(and seriously if anything at all in my ramblings here is of interest to anyone have at it, everything I post should always be considered free game to use as a writing prompt haha)

Like, between Elle getting snatched by the GIW & Kon ending up in custody with the Justice League for a bit, a lot of the clones that weren't involved in the rescue(s) who are out in the wider multiverse come pouring in to check on them and there's this huge impromptu "Congrats on Escaping a Government Agency" party for the two of them.

There are so many clones just everywhere, Tim is overwhelmed by them all (and hasn't actually realized that the whole deal of the place is that everyone there is a clone yet). But he's dealing. He's sticking close to Kon (because he's never letting Kon leave his sight again, especially since he's half convinced that Elle kidnapped & brainwashed Kon into being her loyal servant for evil purposes) and getting introduced to the most diverse group of entities he's ever seen before (humans aren't the only ones who get into cloning).

And then there's an excited whoop as some kid comes flying out of a portal and launches himself at Kon, talking a thousand miles a second, just so happy Kon is back and okay and the boy is so chipper and happy and sweet that it takes Tim a second to realize holy shit is that Damian????

The kid is the Heretic, aged down and growing up again with a fresh slate after getting sent to Elle's Haunt post however he disappeared/died in DC canon (I'm a bit fuzzy on those details). Of course that information takes a bit for Tim to figure out, becuase the kid has no memories at all of being the Heretic or of Damian or Talia or Bruce or fighting his way out of a whale fully grown. As far as he's concerned he's Antonio, Paulina Sanchez' adopted son, and like sure he's somebody's clone but that really doesn't matter to him, he only comes to Elle's haunt to hang out and tag along behind Kon because he thinks Kon is the coolest. (Kon is explaining this to Tim as a bright, cheerful, normal kid version of Damian is sitting on his shoulders. Tim is losing his god damn mind).

And the Only One Bed Thing!! Okay, so like, Kon is Elle's Champion and basically her unofficial Heir. When Elle isn't around he's in charge of her Haunt and looking after all the other clones. And even when she is there he just goes full Big Brother mode on everyone. It doesn't matter if the clones that end up in the Haunt are actually older than him, he's their big brother now.

To that end, clones end up coming to Kon all the time in the middle of the night, unable to sleep because of nightmares and stuff. And Kon is the cuddliest motherfucker. He's all about platonic cuddles to help people sleep. Just about every clone that's ever spent any time at Elle's haunt has ended up curled up in a blanket fort in Kon's room getting cuddled into feeling safe and cared for.

So for Kon? Only One Bed is no issue at all.

Oh all the clones coming over for the party has taken up all the rooms and Elle is "too weak from recovering" for her Haunt to make more? Of course Red Robin can stay in his room! His bed is so comfy and there's more than enough room for both of them (and like, sure, he's kinda panicking a little because he's never cuddled with anyone he's sorta had a tiny bit of a crush on, but he cab be cool! Besides, its hard to fully commit to the crush one Red Robin when Mystery Boy is out there somewhere, oh maybe he can ask Red Robin about him! He seems to know so much about Kon he'll know who Kon is in love with back in his old life!)

Tim, on the other hand, is just fully:

Over the prospect of having to keep his shit together while sleeping in the same bed as Kon (who sleeps without a shirt, jesus fucking christ, Kon has tattoos now since when did that happen??? why is he somehow more attractive than when he disappeared??? oh god Tim is going to have a fucking heart attack) especially after Kon drops the bomb that the only thing he can remember from before is some guy that Kon was apparently totally in love with??? Like Tim is being thrown wildly between being a Bi Disaster to being totally devistated and back again.

He mostly manages to keep himself together, at least until it's actually time for bed and it turns out that Kon is a cuddler when he sleeps (Kon did warn him! "just shove me off if I end up trying to use you as a pillow it won't wake me up" he said, and Tim thought "well it can't be that bad" he was so fucking wrong) and Tim ends up wrapped up in a cocoon of muscled and tattooed Kryptonian arms with his face smushed into Kon's chest and Kon nuzzling into Tim's hair in his sleep and it's the most comfortable Tim's ever been in his life and Kon purrs in his sleep like how is that even fair??? (I love the Kyrptonian's purr headcanon so much it has to be in here lol)

By the end of the first week Tim's has slept more and better than he has in years. He's genuinely forgotten what it's like to have a normal sleep schedule. Even with all his panicking, Kon sleepily curling up around him and hugging him like a teddy bear just knocks him out. It's insane.

And Elle! I have so many thoughts about Elle in this AU!

I mentioned it in one of my other posts on this AU that Elle gives off Vibes based off her various Epitaphs that she's gained, and I think that she'd kinda push that to the max when it came to Tim for awhile when Kon first shows up with him.

Like, she takes one look at Tim and is like "ah, this is Mystery Boy my amnesiac bestie has been on about forever" while also realizing that Kon has no idea that he's just panic-kidnapped the one person he sorta remembers from his old life. Which is the oppurtunity of so much fun matchmaking chaos. And she loves Kon, she's planning on officially making him her Heir so that he becomes Prince of Clones as well as her Champion, she wants him to be happy.

But also she's protective over him, more even than a lot of the other clones that end up in her Haunt. Kon doesn't remember his old life and he was so badly injured when he ended up in Elle's haunt that Frostbite hadn't been sure he would survive. Add in the fact that Red Robin was clearly with the people that had captured Kon while he and the other clones were getting her out of the GIW facility (and that the Justice League is sort of a government agency in it's own right) and Elle isn't totally sold on Tim.

She goes out of her way to give off extra creepy vibes while around him. Making sure he understands that she's more than strong enough to destroy him if he even thinks about hurting Kon. At least in the early days of Tim being in her haunt. She does, eventually, lighten up - especially when Kon gives her the big eyes and asks her to trust him, that he knows that Red Robin is someone he believes is good and that won't ever hurt him. She's still keeps a close eye on Tim, but does chill out a little after that.

And she does have a Queen Form (and a princess form when she's doing her Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms thing). She has a couple different forms/designs depending on which Epitaph she's invoking (and of course a fun vaguely eldritch shadow form that scares the shit out of Tim haha).

Her Clone Queen design is BIG, not quite massive Eldritch Ghost King Danny big, but definitely big. Like 20-30 feet tall big, so she can pick up and carry/hold all her clone children like little babies (if any clones are from a race/species that's bigger than that her size adjusts so she's always big enough to carry them).

She has a crown made out of mirror shards that float around and move so that it's always changing shape (I've been feeling clones being called "Mirrorborn" in the Infinite Realms since there's kind of a naming convention already with "unborn" and clones could be seen as kind of like reflections in a way. Elle's official title is actually "Queen of the Mirrorborn" though sometimes is called "Mother of Mirrors" that's why Kon's sheild reflects things, since Elle made it for him out of a piece of her crown while naming him her Champion) and wears a dress that also looks like it's covered in mirrors. It's actually very soft and comfortable and it's super common for clones to climb around or curl up in her skirts and sleep in there.

Her dress does turn into armor though if she needs to fight. And while in Clone Queen mode it's actually super easy for her to duplicate herself a bunch of times.

Knight Training!

Once Elle chills out on Tim a little and is fully onboard the matchmaking train with the rest of the clones (all while absolutely none of them tell Kon that Red Robin is obviously his Mystery Boy) she has Fright Knight show up more often to train Kon specifically for the purpose of Tim walking in on shirtless Tim expertly going through sword forms and sparring with various other clones. And of course Tim and Kon have to have a sparring scene, where Tim is so distracted by Kon being so fucking attractive he ends up pinned against a wall with the flat of a sword under his chin and Kon giving him a cheeky wink and then it's on and there's a whole dramatic flirty fight scene as they make their way through half of Elle's Haunt while sword fighting.

Also! Since Elle's entire court is actually there for once, a bunch of different monarchs around the Infinite Realms decide to host a tournament, so Kon gets to do official knight stuff in his best armor. And Tim gets place of honor right next to Elle during all the jousting and fighting stuff so he gets the best view of Kon kicking ass.

Tim (still wearing his mask because even if he's pretty sure that no one here is evil or would use his secret identity against him - or even care that he has one) has been all dressed up in some gorgeous clothes fit for his status as "Companion" to a Queen's Champion/future Heir. Just something absolutely insanely georgous in the colors of his Red Robin suit, with a dramatic but entirely functionless cape and Kon's crest (not Elle's but Kon's) embroidered on it and it's Kon's turn to blue screen at seeing Tim for the first time all dressed up.

And Tim is maybe finally putting together from talking with Kon that he might be Mystery Boy that Kon remembers from before and that Kon is in love with. So just before Kon is going out to joust, Tim - taking Elle's advice that he should give Kon a favor before the tournament for good luck - and wanting it to be more meaningful than just a handkerchief or something, takes his mask of and gives it to Kon as his favor.

And Kon just loses his god damn mind because Mystery Boy and Red Robin are the same person and all he wants to do is kiss Tim stupid but Fright Knight Master of Chivalry is like "nope you gotta win this tournament and bring honor to your beloved and do this whole ridiculous song and dance about it, no kissing, get out there and smash some heads together - and keep your helmet on this time!" and just yeets a disgruntled Kon out into the field before he can do anything.

And of course with all this extra incentive - Fright is serious about that whole "prove your love through combat" thing he's not going to be allowed to even kiss Tim's hand unless he wins and is perfectly chivalous while doing it - Kon wins the Tournament and is given the flower crown he's supposed to give to the most beautiful of all the observers and of course he gives it to Tim and he doesn't care if there's a forty step courting process he's supposed to follow Fright, he's fucking kissing Tim and there's nothing you can do about it!

Literally seconds away from them finally kissing is when the Justice League kick down the door to get Tim back.

The ghosts aren't even the ones that wrecks the Justice League's shit for interuppting, it's just Tim screaming at them about being cock blocks for forty minutes while Kon screams into the void in the background.

(Kon does get his memories back eventually, and he and Tim do finally get that kiss and start dating. But at that point Kon has been named Elle's heir so Fright Knight is even more rediculous about Correct Courting Steps than before because Kon is a Prince now. Elle is just relieved that it turns out that the Justice League nuked the GIW while they were looking for Tim, because they were not okay with them or the Anti-Ecto Laws. Kon is mortified at having what is effectively his adoptive mother constantly popping in to dote on him while in the middle of fights, Elle is having a great time.)

[c0sm1c-c01nc1dence]

Red

✧ Pairing: Hunter x human!reader ✧

✧ Content/warnings: Soulmate AU, takes place during season 3, use of the word ‘damn’ once, the title is bland and I’m sorry, Hunter and the reader are both dorks, first post on here!! ✧

The “rules” for soulmates, as it were, were pretty straightforward. You see everything in the color of your soulmates eyes. Once you make eye contact with them you can see in full, proper colors. Seems simple enough, doesn’t it? Well, not for you, it wasn’t.

You, for the past sixteen or so years of your life, had been seeing nothing but red. Different shades, thank god, but red nonetheless. And to be frank, you were getting pretty damn fed up with it. The thing is that no one naturally has red eyes. And you would know; you’ve googled it maybe a thousand times already.

So you were fairly certain you didn’t have a soulmate, and this was all some cruel joke from the universe. But life marches on, so there’s no time to dwell on that, is there?

───── ───── ───── ─────

Another day at Gravesfield’s high school, bland as ever. At least until you caught a glance at your friend Luz. Rather, former friend. She’d been acting weird ever since she came back from that ‘reality check’ camp. And not standard Luz weird, no— she’d been avoiding you since then. Acting like she didn’t know you at all whenever you approached her, not to mention her sudden lack of interest in anything she used to like. The Good Witch Azura books, most notably.

So, needless to say, you were a bit surprised at her new look. Curly hair, a new scar over her eyebrow, and a general air of seasonal depression about her. Even though your recent interactions hadn’t gone so smoothly, you couldn’t help but ask. You were still allowed to care about her.

“Luz?” You called out from down the school hallway. She turned her head in your direction, and you could practically see the stars in her eyes when she saw you. She ran towards you, almost tackling you in a hug. Stumbling backwards, you hesitantly returned the gesture. “Good to see you too?” You awkwardly pat her back, unsure of what to do at the moment.

“Y/N, I am so glad to see you! Oh, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” She backed away and wiped a small tear from her eye.

“We saw each other yesterday, though?” You chuckled, still perplexed by this whole situation. “Seriously, what’s going on? You’re kinda acting like you just came back from war right now.” Her face fell slightly, but her smile quickly returned.

“Meet me at my house once school’s done, ok? I have… a lot to tell you.” You nodded, and watched her just walk away casually after that interaction.

“Cool. Good talk, I guess?”

───── ───── ───── ─────

“So, if I’m following,” You began, now in the Noceda family’s living room. “You didn’t go to summer camp, but instead spent several months in a fantasy world, and the Luz I’ve been interacting with is actually a shape-shifting basilisk.” You pointed to Vee, who nodded shyly. “And in this fantasy world you became a witch, made a bunch of new friends, and got a girlfriend.” You left out the details involving Belos and the Collector, deciding that you didn’t need to recap whatever nonsense was going on there.

“Yeah, actually. You’re handling this surprisingly well.” Luz noted.

“I think I’m still in shock, to be honest.” You laugh a bit in disbelief. You couldn’t begin to comprehend what she’d been through during those months, and you kind of didn’t want to. “So, more importantly, do I get to meet these new people?” You questioned, and her face brightened.

“Of course! They’re upstairs, so let me go get them and I’ll be right back.” You waited downstairs with Vee, exchanging basic small talk. She apologized for the whole ‘impersonating one of your few friends’ thing, which was nice of her. Eventually Luz came back, new friends and girlfriend following behind her.

“Alright! Everyone this is Y/N.” You gave a polite wave, quickly scanning over the group. “Y/N, this is Willow, Gus, Amity, and Hunter.” You got a proper look at all of them as she said their names, your eyes landing on the blond last. Wait a minute, blond?!

As it would turn out, when you made eye contact with Hunter you could suddenly see a lot more colors. He clearly noticed this as well, as a light blush was present on his cheeks and ears. You could feel some heat rise to your own face as well.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Luz asked, noticing your stunned silence.

“I, uh…” you stumbled over your words like an idiot, still staring at him. Saving what little dignity you had left, your phone dinged from your pocket. Checking the notification, you gave an awkward smile and held it up to the group. “Oh! You know what, that’s my dad. He probably wants me home for dinner!” You put your phone back in your pocket, and began approaching the door. “I’ll see you guys later, okay, bye!”

You got the words out as quickly as you could, and bolted as soon as the door was open. You ran back to your house, face still flushed from embarrassment and being generally flustered, leaving a room full of witches (and one human) awfully confused.

“Hunter, what was that about?” Willow asked, as he still stared at the spot where you once were.

“Um- good question.”

───── ───── ───── ─────

Later that day, Hunter knocked on the door to Luz’s bedroom.

“Come in.” She said idly, distracted by whatever she had been playing on her Switch. He entered her room, hands anxiously fidgeting at his sides. There wasn’t a particularly easy way to say this, so he just bit the bullet.

“So, you know the whole thing with your soulmate, and how you’ll only see in their eye color until you make eye contact?”

“Yeah?” She encouraged, curiosity evident in her tone.

“Well, it’s possible that maybe, perhaps, Y/Nismysoulmate.”

“What?!” She immediately paused her game, and whipped around to face him. “Really?! Tell me everything!” She sat on the ground and patted the spot next to her, encouraging him to sit down. He did so, face red from having to explain the whole ordeal.

“There’s nothing to tell! I used to only see e/c, I looked at them, now I can see every color, and they— I always thought your hair was black, by the way— and they just ran away!” As Luz sat and processed this information, Hunter continued thinking out loud. “Did they not like me or something? Is it because I’m from the Boiling Isles?” He questioned, grabbing the pointed tips of his ears. Cutting his rambling short, Luz spoke up.

“No, I don’t think so. They were always interested in fantasy like I was. Maybe they were just a bit overwhelmed?” She suggested. He sighed.

“I guess that could have been it.” He said, though the anxiety was still clear on his face.

“Hey, how about I try to get them to come over this weekend? You guys can talk about it then.” He nodded, and watched her grab her phone to message you. Titan, he hoped she was right about this.

───── ───── ───── ─────

A few days had gone by since the whole incident with Hunter. You had been avoiding him since then, though you honestly weren’t sure why. If you had to, though, you’d say it was probably out of shock. I mean, you were convinced you didn’t have a soulmate for years. And now this incredibly good-looking boy comes in from another realm, and he’s supposedly perfect for you? It’s absurd!

Though it was also worry. How would a relationship between the two of you even work out? He’d have to go home eventually, and you probably couldn’t come with him. Maybe he wouldn’t even like you after the way you left the other day, and he’d reject you before you even had a chance. That’d put a quick and easy end to all this.

You’d been really sick of the color red these past couple days. You usually were, but now it was for an entirely different reason.

Though you couldn’t avoid your problems forever, despite your best efforts. Luz had invited you over for a board game night to celebrate the two of you reuniting. And, well… who were you to say no?

───── ───── ───── ─────

The day finally came, and it had been going relatively well so far. No one else seemed to know what had happened or why you left that first time you came over. Though you and Hunter had been carefully dancing around each other the whole time. It seemed neither of you were equipped to talk about your feelings at the moment. But were you really ever?

Eventually you saw him slip out the front door. With a sigh, you decided to finally face the problem. No use in stalling any more than you already have. After telling Luz that you were going outside for a moment, you stepped out and saw Hunter sitting on the steps leading to the front door. He turned around at the noise, and immediately turned back the other way when he saw it was you. Wordlessly, you sat down next to him. After a moment, he finally broke the silence.

“You look really nice.” You glanced at him, and saw the pink dusting his face. You smiled at the way his blush would spill out onto his ears.

“Thanks, but I’m not really wearing anything special.”

“I know,” He continued, finally meeting your eyes. “I just mean, like- you look nice. You’re really cute.”

“Oh.” You said, quite simply, now blushing a bit as well. You looked at the ground beneath you, pondering how exactly to go about this. “So, this whole ‘soulmate’ thing, huh?”

“Yeah.” Was all he managed. His hands toyed with his pants, still a bit nervous about this whole ordeal. Unable to find the words he wanted, Hunter just looked out at the surrounding neighborhood for a bit. Eventually, though, he said the one thing that was on his mind at the moment. “So… what do we do now?”

“Well, if I may suggest something scandalous?” His blush deepened at your words, but quickly faded as he watched you intertwine your hand with his own.

“Wow, and we’re not even married yet.” He joked. You put your free hand up defensively.

“I know, I know! What can I say, I like to live on the edge.” He laughed, and you silently basked in the sound. You set your eyes on the sky above you, a handful of stars already visible in the late evening’s light. Maybe red isn’t half bad after all.

[flutteringphalanges]

Reaching for the Stars

Adam Warlock x Star Lord!Sister Reader

Prompt:  When your infant daughter starts to exhibit signs of inheriting her father’s powers, you and Adam find yourselves in quite a predicament. Not to mention when your brother, Peter, finds himself caught up in it. 

Word Count: 1,509

A/N: So I decided to write another one shot involving the reader and Adam Warlock having a child together. It is the same baby mentioned in my first one shot Aydith. The baby’s name is a combination of Meredith Quill and Ayesha (Adam’s mother). Also I couldn’t decide if the reader is married to Adam or dating, so I just said “partner”. You can decide! I might do another part to this one but I am not sure. I am open to requests! I hope you enjoy!

                                 Reaching for the Stars

“Look, I’m no baby expert, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t exactly normal.”

Your heart was pounding too hard to even glare at your brother for his comment as the two of you stared up at the ceiling. You had only turned your head for a minute. A minute! And now your baby had decided that she no longer liked the ground and instead preferred floating several feet in the air where you couldn’t reach her. Thank god you were at least inside!

“Peter, do something!” You cried out, finally looking over at your brother in desperation. Oh, you felt sick. And faint. Christ, where the hell was Adam?! “Help me get her down!”

“What am I supposed to do?!” He gestured, obviously beginning to panic as well. “I’m not Groot! I can’t just extend my arms and grab her!” Peter exhaled and began to look around. “Maybe there is something we can use in here, like a broom?”

Your jaw dropped. “You want to hit my baby with a broom?!”

Peter threw his arms up in the air in frustration. “How the HELL did you come to that conclusion?! Why in all the universes would you assume I’d want to smack my niece out of the air?!”

“I don’t know?!” And your panicking was slowly growing into hysteria. You were just getting accustomed to parenting and now your perfect baby had decided to show off her celestial talents. Dammit, where was Adam?! “Aydith, it’s okay! Mommy is right here! Don’t move!”

Unlike you and her uncle, the infant seemed as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She floated in one place, occasional flipping and offering you a two tooth smile. Her (your eye color) sparkled and she giggled down at the two of you, completely unaware of the terror she was causing you both.

“Y/N?”

Both you and Peter turned to see Adam standing in the doorway. If it hadn’t been for the severity of the situation, the way his expression of confusion switched to one of bewilderment upon seeing his child in the air would’ve been comical. You didn’t have time to enjoy the feeling of relief as you hurried over to his side.

“Our baby is flying!” You pointed as if he couldn’t clearly see the situation before him.

“I didn’t know she could do that.” He replied so innocently. Damn, you loved him so much but sometimes…

“Nor did I!” You sighed deeply, trying to regain some form of composure after losing it with Peter. “But apparently she can and now she is up there and I cannot get her down!”

“Y/N wasn’t open to any of my ideas--” Peter began to argue before you cut him off.

“Because you wanted to knock Aydith out of the air with a broom!” You hissed.

“I was going to try to hook the handle on her overalls and pull her down!” He shot back. “But you didn’t even let me finish my plan!”

You really wanted to point out Peter’s interesting history when it came to planning, but decided against it. Instead, you watched as your daughter peered down at Adam, her chubby, little arms reached out towards him. Effortlessly, your partner rose into the air and gingerly took a hold of her. The moment his feet touched the ground, the wave of relief that hit you almost brought you to your knees.

“Oh, Aydith!” At once, you scooped her from Adam’s embrace and hugged her close. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, okay?!” It was a battle to hold back tears as you held her close.

“So the kid can fly now.” Peter said as he looked at Adam. “And she isn’t even one yet. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume you are just as clueless as the rest of us of what else Aydith might be capable of?”

You felt Adam’s hand rest on the small of your back. Even though his eyes weren’t fixed on you, you knew he was trying to offer some comfort. You moved closer, resting your head against him as Aydith fiddled with the collar of your shirt.

“No, I’m sorry.” His eyes met yours, the look on his face hard to read. “Until I learned Y/N was pregnant, I didn’t even think it was possible for us to reproduce.”

Your daughter let out a whine, one that you had come to recognize as her needing a nap. Peter made a goofy face, trying to make her smile. He’d always been so good with her--not that you had ever doubted he wouldn’t be. Aydith looked back at him, one cheek pressed against your chest. She was tired--and if you were quite frank, so were you.

“We need to talk with the others.” Peter stated, looking from you to Adam. “Maybe come up with some sort of game plan to keep Aydith grounded until we fully understand what she is able to do.”

Your eyes flickered down to your daughter who appeared to have finally drifted off. She was so small. So little. How could someone like that do something so extraordinary, yet so terrifying at such a young age? You didn’t fear the possibilities of what she would be like if she had inherited some of her father’s powers. No. No, you worried what would happen if she did. What dangers she would face. That’s what scared you.

  “Okay.” You nodded, shifting her in your arms. You knew the other Guardians would literally drop anything any of them were doing and come to your aid if you asked. That’s what families did after all. There was an old saying you remembered that said it took a village to raise a child--in this case, that village was turning out to be Knowhere. “Let’s do it.”

                                                      XXX

Silence followed you as you and Adam walked to Aydith’s room. Peter was gone and a part of you felt guilty of not apologizing after he left. You made a mental note to do so the next time you saw him. When you reached her crib, you cautiously set her down, doing your best not to wake her. Thankfully you were successful.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” The sound of Adam’s voice pulled you back to reality. “I never even fathomed the idea of Aydith having my abilities. If I had known, or even considered it for that matter…” He shook his head, guilt heavy in his tone as if he blamed himself. “If there hadn’t been a roof…”

The last thing you wanted was for him to feel bad. Adam’s powers, his gifts, they were beautiful. You didn’t dare want him to think otherwise. And certainly you didn’t want him to think that he’d cursed your daughter. Reaching out, you take a hold of his hand, interlocking your fingers. Aydith was safe. That was what was important. She was in her crib before the both of you passed out. Completely and utterly lost to the world.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” You assured him, reaching up with your other hand to turn his face towards your. “Aydith is a part of you, just as she is me. And I suppose one of those parts of you involves her having some sort of special abilities.” You offered him a small smile. “Even if witnessing my child levitate in the air wasn’t what I had initially ever anticipated her doing.”

Adam squeezed your hand. “No, I cannot say I pictured her doing so either.”

You both watched her quietly, his thumb gently stroking your hand. You were still on edge, though your anxiety had lessened quite a bit since Aydith had been deemed safe. Exhaling, you catch Adam’s gaze in your own.

“We’ve got this.” And you were a little surprised how sure you sounded. “At least, we can’t afford not to be, right? After everything we’ve been through as Guardians, I think we can manage this new milestone…Or whatever you want to call this new development.”  

The corners of Adam’s mouth twitch slightly upwards at your words. “Yes, I agree with you. We haven’t let anything stop us yet.”

He dropped your hand and wound his arm around you to pull you into a kiss. You let your eyes close for a moment, melting in his embrace. It was moments like this that you cherished between the two of you. Especially after Aydith had been born and your intimate times had shifted some depending on her needs. Parenthood had surely become a whirlwind--one that you had welcomed with wide, open arms.

“I love you.” You murmured softly, pulling back just enough so that your eyes met. “Both of you.”

“And I you.” Adam replied, resting his forehead against yours. “In every universe and every dimension.” He turned away for just a second to peer over at your daughter before looking back. “We’ve got this, don’t we?”

This time, the nod you gave him felt much more confident. “Yeah,” you agreed. “We do.”

[claireelizabeth85]

Come Home To Me - Chapter 7

John Egan x OC Female

Summary: When the idea of a past life turns out it isn't just an idea or a dream.

Warning: Military inaccuracies, Lizzy needing a slap up the side of the head and Sarah being a badass MF. Other than that - enjoy.

AN: This is a work of fiction and is based on the TV characters from the Apple TV series. No disrespect is intended towards the real men of the 100th BG.

All previous chapters can be found here

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

Sarah's sharp gaze cut through the bustling crowd, her eyes fixing on Abigail amidst the sea of faces at the air show. She quickly suited up, her movements sharp and determined. 

"You know, this could be considered stalking," Sarah snapped, the edge in her voice cutting through the noise as she confronted Abigail. The woman's presence was unsettling, her motives unclear.

Abigail's response was hesitant, her words failing to fully conceal her true intentions. "We... I just wanted to see you off. Make sure that everything goes well," she offered, her voice tinged with a hint of unease.

Sarah's eyes narrowed, she wasn't buying it, not convinced by Abigail’s faltering concern. “Listen, Abby, is it? If you don't want me to know who you are, that’s fine. But there's definitely something you're not telling me. So how about you come clean or stay out of my way? Sarah crossed her arms, waiting for a response, but Abigail remained silent, her apologetic expression betraying the depth of her secrets. 

Sarah's frustration mounted as she waited for a response, but none came. With a final, terse remark, she turned and walked away, leaving Abigail and her brother, Jonathan, who was approaching the two women, standing alone amidst the crowd.

Jonathan's confusion was palpable as he stepped out in front of his sister, blocking the view of Sarah's retreating figure. "What the hell was that all about, Abby?" he demanded, his tone tinged with exasperation. "You say we can't get involved, and yet you're out here handing out photographs and cryptic messages to GeeGee. How is that not getting involved?"

Abigail exhaled deeply, her gaze drifting back toward the airfield. "Because, Johnny," she began, her voice heavy with resignation, "GeeGee told me herself to do it. She told me to ensure that they both got on the plane, but also warned us to stay away from..." Abby gestured towards the B-17 and Lizzy’s arriving figure.

Jonathan's brow furrowed in confusion. "She told you to stay away from Nana? Why?"

Abigail sat down on a nearby bench, her eyes tracking Lizzy as she inspected the bomber. “For starters, GeeGee specifically warned me about letting you near her.”

“Me? Why?” Jonathan scoffed, disbelief lacing his words.

“Really, Johnny?” Abigail raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and seriousness. “Do you think she won’t recognize who you are, or at least who you’re related to? You’re the spitting image of Grandpa—tall, dark hair, those aviator sunglasses, and, let’s not forget, those big ol’ ears. GeeGee fears that if you get too close, Lizzy might back out from the flight. No one really knows what might happen if she doesn’t get on the plane, but it’s best for everyone if we keep our distance.”

Digging into her jacket pocket, Abigail pulled out two sealed envelopes, cursing under her breath when she saw what they were. “These are the flight plans. If all of this is going to work, we need to nudge them into place—one needs to go to the tower, and the other to the bomber.”

Jonathan extended his hand, ready to take on part of the task. “I’ll take one to the bomber, and you take one to the tower.”

Abigail hesitated, her grip on the envelopes tight. “I mean it, Johnny, not a damn word. Don’t go in there and screw this up.”

Pushing his sunglasses up, Jonathan flashed a reassuring grin. “I know, Abby. Don't worry, I got this.”

As Jonathan headed toward the bomber, Abigail watched him for a moment, a mix of hope and anxiety in her eyes, before turning to make her way to the control tower. Each step was heavy with the weight of their family history, threading the past with the present, as they both played their part in shaping the uncertain future.

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

Lizzy's anxiety churned within her as she approached the beautifully restored B-17 Flying Fortress. Though she was intimately familiar with the controls, akin to muscle memory, the jittery unease persisted. Beneath the wing, she dropped her flight bag, her hands trembling slightly. Needing a moment to ground herself, she embarked on a walk around the aircraft. With each step, she peeled off her gloves, her fingers tracing the smooth metal surface, feeling every rivet and indentation. 

Despite the reassurances echoing in her mind — no troubles, no fear, no fighters, no flak — the anxiety persisted like a haunting echo. Restless sleep had plagued her the night before. She knew she needed to sleep so instead of it coming immediately, she tossed and returned. It seemed like only yesterday she had soared through the sky in these majestic beasts, yet the reality was starkly different, more than 80 years had passed.

"Jesus Christ, who the hell am I kidding" she muttered under her breath, the weight of uncertainty crashing over her like a tidal wave. Dragging her feet, she headed back to her flight bag, steeling herself for the talk with Sarah. Part of her was already tempted to bail on this crazy plan.

As she retrieved her stuff, Sarah and a member of the ground crew had arrived to start the external pre-flight checks.  Lizzy rubbed her face, trying to get rid of the fear and anxiety.  Sarah pulled her hand away and yelled in her ear if there was something wrong. 

“I don’t think I can do this Sarah! I can’t do….we’ve been through so much, you can’t expect me to do this on my own!” Sarah could see the panic in Lizzy’s face.  The noise of the planes around them and the people watching the airshow amplified everything. Sarah could barely hear what was being said until one of the ground staff handed her a set of headphones.

“Lizzy, look at me!” she grabbed her friend’s hand.  Lizzy looked the part.  She was dressed in an original flying suit, a dark brown, freshly cleaned sheepskin flying jacket and an original and serviced Mae West, topped off with gloves and her officer’s cap. 

“You need to get out of your own head! You’re right, we’ve been through so much; boys, uni, this crazy ass situation, but right now, I need you to be the brave, bad-ass pilot that I have read about. I know you can do this Liz! I’ll be right here, all the way.” 

Lizzy’s brain tried to focus on what was going on around her, the thrum of the planes around them all starting up and getting into position. It was only when she truly looked at Sarah did she realise her best friend was also suited up in full flying gear and Mae West. 

“Sarah! What are you doing?  You can’t come with me! You’ll leave everything behind!” Sarah shook her head.  “Do you really think i’m going to let you fight the fucking Nazi’s on your own?” Lizzy’s jaw hung lax at Sarah’s new found confidence. 

“Besides, we need to take this” Sarah handed over the final piece of the whole puzzle.  A small black and white photograph of Lizzy and Sarah standing in front of her original fortress. 

“What the fuck?!” Lizzy couldn’t take this all in. “You drop this on me NOW!” Sarah laughed, “Well, I thought no time like the present, or is it the past.  Anyway, there’s something else.  You need to give this back to someone.”  Sarah grabbed Lizzy’s hand and placed a tarnished silver cross on a delicate chain in her palm. “Where the hell did you get that? It’s…”

“John’s. I know! Turns out I’m a snooper and I had a rummage around your trunk!”  Sarah smiled.  She patted Lizzy firmly on the shoulder.  “We’ll do this together Liz, all the way.  But right now, we need you to get on the fucking plane Lieutenant!”

Lizzy watched as the ground crew brought a ladder over for them to climb onboard.  Sarah being inexperienced and vertically challenged, appreciated the gesture and climbed up and got herself sorted.  Lizzy waved it away.  “I’ve done this hundreds of times and never with a ladder.” Placing the silver chain over her head and kissing the cross, more because of the previous owner than a religious sentiment, she then threw her bag and cap through the catch.  Jumping up, Lizzy grabbed the inside top of the hatch and like a gymnast, curled herself up and into the bomber.  Asking the ground crew to keep the hatch open until all pre-engine start-up checks were complete, Lizzy made her way to the cockpit. 

Everything felt so familiar.  For the first time in days she felt truly at peace, at home even.  Climbing into the left hand seat with a wry smile, she started the pre-flight checks. Sarah had situated herself in the flight engineer’s seat just behind Lizzy. 

“Sarah, do we know who else is flying with us?” Sarah popped up over her shoulder, taking in the cockpit in a moment of awe.  “No I don’t, sorry.  Thought Geoff said that he was going to step in but he’s over at the tower.  Don would have been copilot but he’s not here.”  Lizzy attached her throat mic and started talking to the tower, requesting confirmation. 

“Tower, this is Queen Bee”, She waited for them to respond. “Geoff, who’s flying with me?”  The pause was followed by a sigh “well shit! I know I’m a good pilot but there’s no way I can get this bird off the ground on my own!” Lizzy sounded exasperated. “Because, you spanner monkey, it takes two pilots to get her off the ground and the last time I flew one of these things, I had the best pilot as a command pilot - and no I don't mean Don. ” Lizzy ran her hand over her face. “Yeah, yeah.  I can get Sarah to sit in the other seat.  There’s not much she needs to do.  Yeah, we’ll be fine.  No! Don’t you dare scrub us! I said we’ll be fine. Queen Bee out” 

Lizzy twisted around to look at Sarah.  “Guess you’ve been promoted, come and join me in my office!” As Sarah climbed her way into the cockpit and into the right hand seat, she stared around at all the switches and dials, her eyes wide with panic as though she was about to be tested and she hadn’t done the homework. 

“Erm, Liz, you know I don't know how to fly right?” Lizzy chuckled.  “Sure you do Tink, it’s either a case of flapping your arms really fast or you need to think of a wonderful thought!” The pair of them laughing at the stupidity of Lizzy’s joke eased Sarah’s nervousness. 

“There’s not much you need to do.  Here, put this round your throat, push either side to talk and you’ll need to put these on so you can hear the tower. Sarah got herself situated.  She could hear chatter over the radio. She remained silent, only replying when Lizzy required her assistance. Lizzy walked through the checks from memory, the actual list laying across her knees. Her final check was the fuel gauge. Humming to herself in contemplation of something, she made a note and placed the checklist to her right. 

Radioing to the Tower, Lizzy informed them they were ready for engine start up as all pre-flight checks had been done and the hatch could be closed. Sarah tried so hard not to fidget in her seat.  “I really hope you remember what you’re doing Lizzy, cos if you don’t, I don’t have a goddam clue and this’ll be the first crash of a B-17 in about 80 years.” 

Lizzy turned to her best friend, amazed that she was making the decision to come with her.  “I got this, don’t worry.  I will need your help in a minute to get us off the ground but I will coach you through it.  But once we’re in the air, you can sit back and check out the view.”

Interrupting their final checks, there was a call from the hatch and Abigail’s brother, Johnny, appeared at the entrance to the cockpit.  Sarah’s eyes narrowed, unhappy by his presence in the aircraft.  Johnny acknowledged them both and handed Sarah an envelope with the instruction “DO NOT OPEN UNTIL AIRBORNE” written across it in red capitals. 

“I’m here with your orders and flight plan ma’am.  Also, I’m to collect your signed pre-flight check-list”  Lizzy just stared at the man.  Her hand gripping the check-list as he tried to take it from her.  She couldn’t get over how familiar he looked.  She felt like she knew his name, that it was at the end of her tongue. Sarah wanted to know what was going on as well, considering she’d told them both to stay away. 

“Ma’am?  Are you finished with your list?” Sarah stared at the exchange and then nudged Lizzy’s knee to get her to focus.

“Erm no…yes of course. In fact, just one second, please” Lizzy checked the sheet and the fuel gauge again. 

“Tower, this is Queen Bee, over” Lizzy studied the checklist, her fuel gauge and the fuel gauge on Sarah’s side as she waited for their reply, 

“Queen Bee, this is Tower. Go ahead Lizzy, over.”

“Tower, Geoff, tell me again how much fuel I’m meant to have, over?” Lizzy didn’t need to do the maths, she knew how far she could get on her current tanks. She was currently sitting on enough fuel for 1700 miles. 

“Queen Bee, Lizzy you should have one full tank, over.'' She frowned, checked Sarah’s gauge to make sure that she wasn’t messing up the maths, and even the reserve gauge, which was flat. 

“Tower, you sure? Cos I’m looking at two full fuel tanks here.  You’re not planning on packing us off somewhere are you?” They both chuckled. “Geoff, we’re either gonna need to go first or last, cos we are heavy now.  We can take off with everyone else and stay in a holding pattern which is fine, cos I have the flight plan here. I’ll talk to you when we’re ready for take off.  Queen Bee out.” Lizzy made a final note on the check-list and handed it over. 

“Thank you.  Please tell the ground crew to stand clear and we’ll do the engine start up.” Johnny nodded acknowledging Lizzy’s request and shooting Sarah an apologetic smile and then turned to leave the cockpit, before looking over his shoulder, calling out to Lizzy.

“Lieutenant?”  Lizzy twisted in her seat. “Yes?” Lizzy took a moment to look at him. His short hair, cut in a modern military short back and sides style, he was clean shaven and there was just something about him that made him feel so  familiar. His face was beautiful, with angled cheeks and a strong jawline. His eyes were a gorgeous ocean blue that twinkled with mischief. His soft but defined cupid’s bow was prominent when he smiled at her. Lizzy tried to fit the pieces together from her mind to work out who he was, but he spoke before she could get her answer.

“I’ve been asked to remind you that you’re not to do any stupid shit” and before Lizzy, or Sarah, had the opportunity to say anything, Johnny was gone. 

As he slid out of the hatch, he knew he had gone against what Abigail said but he’d needed to talk to her, to see her in person, even if she didn’t know him. He remembered the stories from when he was a child, about how Nana was always reminded not to do anything stupid while Grandpa was at work. “It’s because she gets a little careless when I’m not around.” Johnny walked back towards the tower, a smug smile on his face, Abigail meeting him beside a replica jeep.

“What the hell was that all about?” Sarah asked, as Lizzy stared at the space Johnny had occupied. “I don’t….he knew…did you tell him?” Lizzy looked at Sarah, with a questioning eye. “Tell him what?” Lizzy realised that Sarah wouldn’t know.  “Nothing, never mind.” Shaking her head to clear her mind, Lizzy focused on the task at hand. 

Leaning out the window to her left, she acknowledged the ground crew waiting for her to start the fortress’ huge engines.  As both engines one and two spluttered to life and the cockpit started to vibrate, Lizzy relaxed both mentally and physically.  

Talking Sarah through what she needed to do with the choke for the engines on her side, all four were now humming.  Oh how she had missed that sound.  Even in her modern life, there had always been something missing, some piece of her that she couldn’t quite find.  This was it.  

“Tower this is Queen Bee, over” 

“Tower, go ahead Lizzy.” 

“We have four engines hot and ready to go.  Your guy dropped off the orders and flight plan and took our checklist. You decided if we’re first or last, over?” Lizzy watched as the ground crew stood themselves in clear view of her window. 

“Tower, We haven’t issued any orders or a flight plan Lizzy.  As far as we know, your checklist is still with you.”

She looked down at the clipboard and to her confusion, Geoff was right. She looked over at Sarah who still had hold of the envelope that said it should not be opened until they were in flight.  Sarah went to open it before Lizzy stopped her.  “Don’t open it. Not yet…it’s… bad luck.” Lizzy touched her throat. 

“Tower, my fault, the checklist is still here.  Can return it when we get back. Are we first or last over?” Lizzy wanted to get this going, the waiting and the apprehension were making her jittery. 

“Queen Bee - you’re the star of the show Lizzy, you’re up first. Have a good flight.  See you when you get back. Out.”  Lizzy pushed out a breath.  Finally, she thought. 

Giving the ground crew a thumbs, Lizzy eased off the brakes and gently pushed the throttle forward slowly rolling the aircraft forwards. She made slight adjustments with the brakes as she worked her way towards the runway.  

“This is it Sarah - now or never.” Sarah beamed a smile so wide, it went from ear to ear.  “You got this Liz. You just tell me what you need and I’ll try my best.”

“Tower, this is Queen Bee. Holding on the runway. Waiting for green, over.” Lizzy took a deep breath in.  There were no nerves to steady, just one of those things she always did.

“Queen Bee this is Tower. Green will appear to your west. Runway is yours. Good weather with clear sky and no haze. No aircraft in our space and holding pattern is at 10,000 feet. Good luck Liz. Tower out.” 

Seconds later, the green flare from the Tower lit up even in broad daylight. Lizzy gently guided Sarah’s hand to the co-pilot throttle.

“Nice and easy, we don’t want to be down the end of the runway and still be on the ground.  We’ll pick up enough speed and then when I say let go, start to gently pull back on the yoke.” 

Sarah, as instructed, started to call out the ground speed as Queen Bee started to gently thunder down the runway.  Lizzy, taking a last look out, caught sight of the man who had dropped off the flight plan. He was sitting on top of a replica army jeep, his feet crossed, leaning back on his hands.  A pair of aviator sunglasses protected his gaze from the afternoon sun. 

For a split second, Lizzy could have sworn it was John, waving at her.  She shook her head and refocused on the runway and their speed. Lizzy told Sarah to keep going and she released her throttle and started to pull back on the yoke.  

She could feel the wheels start to lift, pulling ever so slightly harder to bring the nose up and the stunning plane, beautifully restored, took flight as they climbed up into the clouds. 

Taglist:

@victoryrollsandredlips @bobparkhurst @prettyinlimegreenboots @ginabaker1666 @instructionsnotincluded @luminouslywriting @thedeviltohisangel

AN: If you enjoyed this chapter and want to gossip about it, then my DMs and asks are open, come and chat!

[delopsia]

Eyes On Me | Max Brinly X Reader

Word Count: 11,00 Warnings: Swearing, a bit of angst, unprotected sex, oral (reader receiving), mild size kink, overuse of "honey" (sorry), occasional blood that involves a bear trap and your foot (not sorry), not beta read.  Cross Posted Here On AO3

There's something so menacing about Hackett's Quarry. You can't quite put your finger on what, but something haunts the forests once the sun has fallen, lurking, watching. A stark contrast to the charming, rustic nature of the camp during the day. If parents had to spend one night before sending their children for the summer, the camp would be closed and defunct within a year. 

It's in the unnervingly chilly breeze that finds you on the warmest of nights, in the way the wind whispers your name in your ear and tries to draw you further into the unknown. 

"Y/N."

A horrified yelp leaves your lips, your body recoiling from the noise so fast that you stumble. 

"Hey, hey!" Hands grasp your shoulders — firm, grounding you. "It's just me. You're okay." 

You're too shocked to speak, staring blankly at the man before you. Max. It was just Max. Not something lurking in the woods. Frowning, Max draws you in, and you're powerless to do anything but fall into his embrace. He's nothing but warm, warding off the breeze nipping at your exposed skin like he's your knight in shining armor. 

"I've got you," he murmurs, directly into your ear. "Why're you so freaked out? Did something happen?"

"No," you breathe, "this place is just spooky at night." 

Max chuckles— it's the sweetest sound you've ever heard. "Is this why you always wait for me, hm?" That's partially the reason, but it's not like you're going to outright admit it. Unfortunately, your silence must speak louder than words, because Max laughs again, hugging you a little tighter. "Well, you're safe with me, honey."

Heat blossoms in your chest, wrapping around your heart with an unfamiliar gentleness that makes it ache. You can't see his face, but you know he's grinning. Your thoughts are proven true when he draws away, big hands lingering on your waist as he gazes into your eyes, searching for any hint of fear or worry. 

"Let's just get this over with," you'd much rather stay here and hug Max for the rest of the morning, but duty calls. You've been tasked with getting all of the take-home goodies put together for the campers. Leave it to Mr. H to miraculously forget to mention it until the night before the campers leave. 

The walk to the main building isn't very long, but the poorly lit trail makes it feel like you have to walk for hours. Next to you, Max doesn't even appear bothered, eyes trained on the path ahead. Whether it's dumb confidence or he's just not awake enough to care about what lurks in the dark, you're not sure. 

"You'd think Mr. Dont-Call-Me-Hackett would at least leave the light on for us," he gripes, pointing up to the lamppost. Strange, it had been on last night when you walked the kids back to the cabins. 

It's not just dark on the path, you learn. The entire camp is dark, even the main building doesn't have a singular light coming from it. Hackett's Quarry looks absolutely deserted. If you weren't an employee, you would almost think the place was abandoned. 

"You don't find this spooky at all?" You whisper, afraid to raise your voice any higher. 

Max's shoulder is bumping into yours, accidental but comforting, in a way. "No, this place is creepy as shit."

Powered by five and a half hours of sleep and fear itself, you forge ahead. Every step towards the building feels heavier. If it weren't for Max ambling along next to you, you would have turned back and not returned until the sun was up. Even now, as your foot meets the first step, you're considering it.

The door to the cafeteria is unlocked, much to your dismay. The idea of going back to bed really sounds good right now. Opening the door reveals...nothing but more darkness. You can't see a damn thing.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the light switch is, would you?" Max sighs, with a frown. You've got nothing. Feeling up the wall until you find a switch it is. 

Max goes left and you go right, hands running up and down the wall in search of the magic switch that will illuminate the cafeteria. You think you find it, once, but it ends up being the switch that controls the fans instead. 

"Found it!" By the time you've processed Max's announcement, blinding white light is burning straight into your retinas. 

At least Mr. H was decent enough to leave the supplies out on a table. Candy, ink stamps, bubblegum, animal-shaped erasers, and pencils. All things the kids couldn't be trusted with over the course of the past two months. Exciting. 

"That poor bus driver," Max is already settling down, popping a lemon-flavored candy into his mouth. 

"This is what we got up so early for?" You're not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't...this. 

Max hums, "Mr. H made it sound a lot more important than bags of candy." 

Understatement of the century. 

As much as you want to sit down while you work, the boxes are tall, and you cant see what's inside of them unless you stand. Your hand continuously bumps into Max's as you reach for supplies, and you swear you're not doing it on purpose. It doesn't help that Max laughs every time, doesn't make it any easier when he playfully nudges you with the sweetest grin on his face. 

"Hold on," rather unceremoniously, Max takes it upon himself to dump the boxes out on the table, rearranging them into easily reachable piles. 

Why hadn't you thought of that?

"Better?"

"Better." 

An unforeseen side effect of sitting down — it's much easier to get tired. It doesn't help that the cafeteria is so chilly and that Max is practically a furnace next to you. Your movements are gradually slowing, a shadow of the pace you used to be working at. How is one supposed to focus on goodie bags when it's this early?

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Max's voice is enough to temporarily shatter the sleepy silence you've been wallowing in. 

"Not much," you say through a yawn, "Emma snores." 

"I don't know how you put up with it," he plucks the finished bag from your hands, tying it shut in a neat little bow. 

You're yawning again, just the thought of it is triggering them. "She's not that bad." Lie. She is that bad.

"Are you kidding?" Max scoffs. "Emma could guide ships through the fog."

Nobody believed you when you said Emma snored, until the night of the slumber party in the lodge. The memory of a half-awake Jacob carrying her into an empty room and shutting the door is something that you will never forget.

Max's shoulder bumps against yours as he works. Vaguely, you wonder if he would be a good cuddle buddy or not. If his hugs are anything to go by, he definitely is.

The back of his hand settles against your forehead, testing your temperature. "Are you sure you're okay? You look a little..." you're not sure what to think of the look he gives you, "pale."

You can't help but frown when his hand draws away from you, leaving your skin even colder than it was before he touched you. "Just tired, is all." Working on their own, your hands reach for another bag and a handful of candy. 

"You can go back to bed if you're that sleepy," he offers, tossing another complete bag into the box, "we only have a few left." 

The offer is tempting, but the thought of leaving him to finish this by himself makes you feel guilty. It's not like you'd get much sleep with your sleep paralysis demon Emma above you. With another yawn, you fold your arms on the table and rest your head on them, blearily watching Max work. He's quick, even though he doesn't look all that awake himself. 

"Can't take your eyes off me, huh?"

"Nope."

The chuckle is expected, but you definitely don't expect him to reach over and wipe a mark from your cheek. The little voice in your head tells you to mess it up a second time just so he'll touch you again. Your eyes close, just for a second, you tell yourself. Yet when they reopen, Max isn't working anymore.

No, he's mirroring your position, head nestled in his arms, blue eyes gazing over at you—like you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen. He smiles when he realizes that you're looking at him, nudging you with his elbow. You feel like a giddy little kid, shyly flirting with their crush in the cafeteria. 

"It might be more comfortable if we took a nap on the library bean bags and not the table," he suggests, winking. You know he probably means nothing by it, but you wish he did. 

"I don't want to move," you grumble, to which he rolls his eyes. 

"Do you want me to carry you?" You can't tell if he's being serious or not. Like always, though, your silence must speak louder than words, because he's already standing up, cracking his neck as he does so. You have to raise your legs a little bit, but he scoops you up with unsurprising ease.

It would have been more surprising had you not caught multiple glimpses of him shirtless, working out with Jacob over the summer. 

"Gosh dang you are cold," he whispers, eyes meeting with yours for a fleeting second. His lip quivers, fighting back what appears to be a smile. You have to look away to hide your own sheepish grin. 

The problem with the bean bags is that despite their comically large size, they're always moving around. Kaitlyn and Abigail are always thwarting attempts to smuggle the bags into other rooms, but the kids are sneaky. 

"They really couldn't leave two?" Max groans at the sight of the singular beanbag. At least the campers were decent enough to leave you the largest one out of the five. Max isn't that big of a guy, both of you could fit there just fine.

"We could share?" It shoots directly from your mouth, your sleep-clouded mind unable to register what you're saying until you've already said it.  He hums like he's thinking about it, and it's too late to take back your words. 

A painstaking moment crawls by. Then, you realize he's moving again. One, two, three, four strides until he reaches the beanbag, and then he's settling down into it with you cradled in his lap. Your head finds home against his chest, the pitter-patter of his heartbeat loud in your ear. 

"This okay?" He asks; his head is so close to yours that you can smell the peppermint of his toothpaste lingering on his breath.

"Yeah," it's more than okay.

Your words must serve as encouragement because his arms secure themselves around you, his head coming down to rest against yours. He's so warm — the frigid air rippling through the lodge feels like just a memory now. You tilt your head up, bleary eyes landing on his freckled face. 

He's looking back at you. "Hi."

"Hi."

He smiles at that; his thumb begins to rub back and forth across your spine. You're not sure if he's even aware that he's doing it. His head draws forward to lean against your own, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. 

This. The simplicity of it all, being cradled in his lap whilst his pretty blue eyes gaze into yours. The scent of his woodsy body wash and minty toothpaste intertwining in such a way that it makes your head spin. You could get lost in this forever. 

"You have such pretty eyes," he says it so quietly that you almost don't hear it. 

But you do, and God, your cheeks are so hot they could start a forest fire. You're too shy to speak. Words? Don't know her. All you can do is duck your head down and hide your face in his chest. 

He doesn't say anything more, but you can feel his eyes lingering on your frame. It's strangely comforting — like nothing can harm you as long as he's around to protect you. Listening to his heartbeat is like listening to a lullaby. Every blink is becoming a challenge. Another yawn wracks through your body, and then you're gone. 

"Rise and shine, love bugs!"

You're yelping, all but jumping out of Max's arms and quite nearly cracking your head on the wooden bookshelf. Laura stands before you, smiling, but the expression worn in her eyes makes you want to shrink into nothingness. Hot breath fans out against your neck, and suddenly you're very aware of the fact that you're still sitting in Max's lap. 

"Laura, wait, this isn't," Max pleads, "this isn't what you think it is."

That statement shouldn't sting as much as it does. Technically, you and Max are just friends — all you've done this summer is flirt and get a little cuddly. Yet, you can't help but feel like a home wrecker that just got caught with the husband.

Your feet hit the ground with a small thud, carrying your half-awake body past Laura and out of the library in a wordless hurry. You don't know why you're leaving or where you're going, but you'll take anywhere but here. 

The sun is up now, painting the sky in rich hues of red and orange, and you can hear the kids chattering outside. Nick is already whirring away in the kitchen, flipping pancakes in a comically large skillet that you've never noticed before.

"Goodmorning!" He smiles, waving with his spatula. If he notices that you're here much earlier than you should be, he doesn't mention it. "Pancakes are ready if you want to grab one." 

He's made three types today — banana, blueberry, and plain. Chocolate chip pancakes used to be the main attraction until deliveries suddenly stopped two weeks ago. You make your choice and stand outside on the balcony to eat, as far away from the library as you can possibly get. The kids are already beginning to funnel into the cafeteria, but you never see Max and Laura come out. 

Whatever, it's hard to think about Max when you've got Nick's pancakes in front of you. Biting into them is like biting into a big, fluffy cloud. You'd volunteer to work at Hacketts Quarry next summer if it meant Nick was head chef again. 

If only you'd caught feelings for him and not Max, the guy who probably has feelings for Laura. 

The buses show up in the blink of an eye. 

One minute you and Ryan are helping the kids shove their belongings into their suitcases; the next, you're herding them down the beaten path to the lodge for the final time. Max is among the counselors that are helping you, and for every step he makes towards you, you take two back. 

"Kids, Counselors Max, and Y/N made Goodbye Goodie Bags!" Mr. H's voice echoes throughout the camp as he holds up the completed box of goodies. Max looks at you; you avoid his eye.

The kids are absolutely thrilled. One thank-you hug becomes two, then three, and the next thing you know, you're swarmed. You don't know where one kid ends, and another begins, and all you can see are their smiling faces and brightly colored camp shirts. 

An arm sneaks over your shoulders, much bigger than the children's — woodsy body wash kisses your nose. Somehow, Max has gotten wrapped up in this little group hug too, and he's mostly hugging you. 

"Hackett's Quarry forever!" You can distantly hear Emma cheering, joining in on the hug more enthusiastically than all of the children combined. It's hard to focus on her when Max pulls you closer, drawing you in until you're safely tucked under his arm and snuggled up to his side. You melt into it like butter in the hot sun, powerless to fight his affections. 

The kids are all cheering and chanting with their counselors, an incredible noise that has your ears ringing and yet the world is impossibly quiet. Nothing compares to the sweet laughter that falls from Max's plush lips; you can't hear anything except him. 

"Hackett's Quarry forever!"

And then they're gone. Tumbling towards the buses with their bags stuffed to the brim with goodies, crafts, and camp gear. A few bags had to be duct taped shut, other kids are improvising with plastic bags and anything else they could concoct. One boy is wearing three shirts on top of each other because they wouldn't fit. 

You're still cheering, even as the buses leave, waving goodbye until the final bus has crawled out of sight. 

Only then do you realize that a toned arm has fallen from your shoulders and instead curled around your waist. Only now are you aware of how close Max is holding you and the look Laura is giving you from the corner of your eye. 

As much as you don't want to, you step away. The fiery look in Laura's eye and the hot sun combined cannot even begin to melt the iciness that's settling into your now empty side. 

"Y/N?" It's hard to ignore Max's voice. The sound alone has your gears slowing. 

Jacob, your lord, and savior, comes bumbling over to you, effectively ending any of Max's advances. "He isn't bothering you, is he?" His tone makes him sound like a protective older brother. 

You shake your head, frowning. "No, I'm just a little upset, is all." 

When he cocks his head to the side, you explain the morning's events. There's an unintentional emphasis on how you woke up, on the looks Laura has been giving you since the end of July, and the singular comment that set you off. You feel lighter, being able to talk about it with someone. 

"So he's made you feel like a side piece," he observes, and suddenly the pieces click into place. A reason for why you feel this way. 

"That's exactly it." 

Jacob hums in thought, rubbing his chin. An idea must strike him because his face lights up so brightly that you swear you see a lightbulb appear above his head. "I have an idea." 

"Oh boy."

You don't even have a chance to ask what he could possibly be up to. He's already bounding off towards Kaitlyn with a wicked grin sprawled across his face. 

Whatever he's up to, it can't be too much, considering you leave for home in an hour. Your heart pangs in your chest — this is probably the last time you'll ever see Max. You begin the long haul to the cabins to fetch your bag with your feet filled with lead. So much for a summer fling.

The van is on fire. 

You leave for twenty damn minutes and return to heavy smoke and the van ablaze. Mr. H raises his voice with a tone you've never heard before. He's walking in your direction, wrapped in such a rage that he's shaking. You're scrambling to get out of his way, but his shoulder still slams into yours. Your ass hits the ground with a thump. 

In the corner of your eye, you can see your bag roll away after Mr. H's foot connects with it. 

Max is there. Kneeling by your side, hand curling around your cheek so gently that you can barely even feel him do it. "Are you okay?" You hate how concerned he sounds. You hate hearing such an endearing tone come from someone that doesn't share your feelings. Your eyes are watering, but not a single tear is related to your fall. 

"I'm okay," blinking the tears back. 

There's a calloused thumb swiping under your eye, catching a singular tear. If he doesn't quit looking at you like you're the most precious thing he's ever seen — if he doesn't stop touching you like you're made of glass, your tears will turn into a waterfall. 

"You don't look okay," he whispers. 

Getting up is the only way to stop the waterworks from turning on full blast. Max makes room for you, hands hovering around you as if you may fall again. Jacob hands over your bag once you're on your feet.

Mr. H leaves. Stranding your rag-tag crew at Hackett's Quarry for one more night. 

"P.A.R.T... Why the fuck not?" You tune into Dylan saying, a mischievous tone in his voice. "Alright, it seems the stars have aligned for us. No?" There's no getting out of a party, and you're really not surprised that it's already being suggested as soon as Mr. H has left. What really surprises you is when Jacob decides that you and Max should find supplies. It's not like you can walk off and avoid Max now. Not without ditching him with all of the work. At least Jacob reunites you with your phone after delivering that order. "So a lighter, a bucket, and blankets," Max recites, raising a finger for every item he lists. "Where the hell are we going to find a bucket?" "That's what you're worried about?" This is a camp; there have to be buckets somewhere. "How do you plan to find blankets that don't belong on a bed?" Max is quiet, eyebrows furrowing. "I have no idea."

Your phones both kick on at the same time, buzzing to life for the first time in months. It feels strange to look at the screen again; you haven't seen one all summer. 

"We have the same phone," he's sidling up next to you, holding his phone next to yours. Identical models. The only difference is the cases. 

"What a coincidence," his lock screen flashes on, and your cheeks warm in an instant. It's a picture of Max, shirtless and on a hiking trail. God, does he have—

"Don't mind that," he's shoving his phone into his pocket, looking anywhere but at you. "So about those supplies."

Right. You need to be focusing on supplies. Not Max and his abs. 

Supplies.

Not Max.

Supplies.

You're so focused on not focusing on Max that you don't realize your feet are moving. Carrying you right back down the path to the lodges. Max strolls along next to you, his hand bumping against yours with every few strides. Each time, your heart practically leaps up your throat. 

"I know I should have asked this before," he says, breaking the silence. Oh god, what is he about to ask? "But where are we going?"

Oh.

Right.

"Art Lodge," you croak, nearly jumping out of your skin when his fingers brush with yours again. "Abi always lights a candle during her classes; there should be a lighter in there." 

Max hums, and for a brief second, you meet eyes. He's smiling down at you, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with it. Jokingly, you bump your shoulder into his, just a little tap that has the both of you laughing. 

Then you feel it.

Timid fingers slip between your own, slotting together at an agonizingly slow pace. You have to remind yourself to keep walking, have to fight the urge to immediately take his hand and squeeze it as tightly as you can. It's so, so slow like he's afraid you'll bolt if he moves too quickly.

Just like that, he's holding your hand. Curling your fingers around his feels as natural as breathing. 

The lodges come into view, standing proud as ever in front of the cliffs. Even as you cross the miniature bridge, Max holds your hand, thumb swiping back and forth against your skin. You hope he never let's go.

"Any luck?"

"No, but I found fruit snacks that expired in 2015."

You have a feeling that the fruit snacks may be the cause of Max's prior hacking fit. 

You've found everything but blankets. There were none left behind; not a singular beach towel could be located in the pool storage bins, and the laundry had everything except blankets. Now it's beginning to seem that you're going to be coming up short on your end of the deal. 

"You would think that Mr. H would have at least one decent blanket," Max's voice echoes across the dark attic. 

"I'm beginning to think that he doesn't believe in them," you deadpan. The boxes up here are just filled with old craft supplies and a few family photobooks. Nothing less, nothing more.

Something heavy falls over where Max is.

"What was that?" 

"I fell." 

One peek over your shoulder reveals that he has indeed fallen, and he doesn't look like he's about to get up anytime soon. Toeing through the various boxes, you make your way over to him. 

"Seems we're sticking it out without blankets tonight," you step over him, careful not to trip yourself. 

Max reaches up, his hand circling around your ankle, holding it there. "What's worse is, I have blankets in my car," his other hand comes up to brush away some dust that's gathered on your sock. 

"If only your car weren't a mile away," you hold a hand out for him to grab, intending to pull him up. You don't expect him just to reach up and hold it. "Are you getting up, or are you staying on the floor?"

"Oh." He blinks dumbly. Now he gets up, back cracking as he does so. 

Climbing back down the ladder is the worst part. Max goes down first, seemingly insistent that he catch you if the rickety old thing miraculously breaks on your way down. It doesn't, but that doesn't stop him from placing his hands on your waist when you're within reach. 

"This place needs a serious overhaul," he observes aloud, once you're on solid ground. 

To his credit, he's not wrong. The chimney is crumbling on the inside, and more than half of the buildings on the property are beginning to come apart. Lodge 5 lost a whole stair last month, and a few weeks before that, Lodge 2 woke up without a balcony railing after a particularly windy night. 

The stairs creak under your feet as you head out of the lodge, testing your anxiety with every step. You're just waiting for the day someone's foot goes through one of these thin old boards. 

Two lighters and a bucket await you at the bottom of the stairs, your proud, hard-earned treasures. With one hand, you pick up the bucket; with the other, you tentatively reach for Max's hand. 

"What are you doing?" Laura's voice has you jolting, hand slipping back from Max's. You blink, bewildered by her sudden appearance. Words aren't coming to you. 

"Heading down to the campfire?" Max sounds just as confused as you feel. Wasn't she paired up with Kaitlyn? 

"I was talking to Y/N, but that works too," she clarifies with such a pleasant tone that barely feels genuine. You choose not to reply, remaining quiet to avoid raising any conflict. It's no secret that you two don't exactly get along; you'd rather not add to the list of reasons why. 

To your dismay, she walks to the campfire with you, walking right between you and Max the entire way. She and Max are chattering about some movie you've never heard of; you can't bring yourself to listen. That feeling from earlier nags at your heart, Jacob's words echoing in your head. Does he like you, or did Jacob have a point back there?

At the campfire, the rest of the group has already gathered around the campfire; they're just waiting on you three. 

"We couldn't find blankets," you supply, handing the bucket off to Kaitlyn's awaiting hands. 

"Don't sweat it," she winks, "at least you found the lighter. Dylan has been hitting two rocks together for ten minutes, and it's getting old." 

Max sits on the log next to Nick, blue eyes meeting yours as he pats the space next to him. At least, you thought he was looking at you. But before you can even comprehend what's happening, Laura is trotting over and plants herself in the space next to him, recharging their conversation from before. 

"Y/N, over here!" Jacob waves, garnering your attention. Guess you're sitting next to Jacob, then. 

With heavy feet, you wander up and sit next to him, trying not to look too dejected. It's really not that big of a deal. Who cares if Laura sits next to Max? Who cares if Max completely forgets your presence when she's around?

Not like you care at all.

"I'm sorry," Jacob says, handing you a wine cooler, "we tried but we couldn't talk her out of going to find you guys." 

You've forgotten how hard it is to get these damn caps off. The skin on your fingers burn as you try and fail to twist it open. 

"Need help?" Jacob cuts Max off, from whatever he was about to say. Nodding, you hand it back over. 

It's unfair how easily he pops it off, adding it to his already decently sized collection of bottle caps. The alcohol is overwhelmingly sweet on your tongue, artificial strawberry overpowering the alcohol until it's just barely there. If only there were enough of these to go around; you reckon you could drink the memories of today away.

On your left, Dylan makes a face at his own drink, something bright orange. "Is strawberry any good? This one's not liking me too much." 

You're not one to drink after people, but right now you'll take all the distractions you can get. "Only one way to find out," holding out your drink for an exchange. 

Dylan's drink is much more tropical, a pleasant mixture of orange and pineapple that hits your taste buds much easier than the strawberry. This is the kind of thing you could drink all day and not get tired of. 

"You're telling me that you don't like this?" You can't wrap your head around it, this is so much better than strawberry.

Dylan shrugs, seemingly much happier with your drink. "I hate pineapple." 

That settles your trade quite nicely. 

Like a broken record, your thoughts jump back to Max. All too coincidentally, he's looking at you, with this unreadable expression that you've never seen on him before. You wonder what that's about.

The campfire finally awakens and roars to life, flickers of red and orange lick the air, spitting up tiny particles of ash in its wake. You hate how the burning timber reminds you of Max's body wash. Why does everything have to remind you of him and his stupidly pretty face?

Truth or dare kicks up when you're just beginning to finish your second drink, some grape flavored thing, when your body has loosened and your head is spinning ever so slightly. Lack of drinking over the summer has obliterated your alcohol tolerance, and you're glad that nobody offers you a third, because any more may lead you to losing your filter and some questionable decisions.

"Y/N!" Oh god, why is Dylan saying your name. 

"Huh?"

"Since you so graciously traded drinks with me, twice, might I add. You get to go first," he grins, eyes shimmering from the fire, "truth, or dare?"

What do you have to lose? "Truth."

He grins, a big toothy smile, and you're suddenly concerned about what you've gotten yourself into. "Who has the nicest body at this camp?" 

God, you should have picked dare. 

"Max," you croak, voice suddenly too heavy for your tongue, "sorry Jacob."

Jacob pouts like a kicked puppy, Max just turns red in the cheeks.

Everything devolves into a blur, thanks to the alcohol that's coursing through your veins like a wildfire. You dare Emma to exchange clothing with Kaitlyn, Ryan kisses Dylan, Nick's shoes wind up on the wrong feet, Jacob nearly jumps through the fire naked, Abi's hair is tied up in six different places. A storm is beginning to roll in, you can hear the thunder rolling in the distance, but you've still got time before the game has to wrap up.

Even without the storm distracting you and the alcohol clouding your thoughts, its hard to focus on the game. Not when Max keeps flicker his eyes between the fire and you, expression as unreadable as ever. Laura's saying something to him, but his eyes remain locked on your frame.

"Laura," Emma's voice shakes you from your trance. How long have you and Max had your eyes locked? "Truth or dare?"

Laura fiddles with the brim of her hat, thinking about her reply. "Dare."

"I dare you to kiss," she pauses, analyzing her audience like you're a bunch of adoring fans, "Nick, or...Max."

Your heart drops.

"Seriously, Em?" For the first time all night, Jacob sounds irritated, his formerly drunken, goofy tone long forgotten. 

"I choose..." Laura stands, and for a split second, you wonder if she's going to kiss Nick instead. But then she's turning, planting her palms on Max's shoulders. "Max."

God, you can't sit here and watch this. 

Your feet are hitting the ground before Laura can make her move. No amount of alcohol will make you sit through this. Someone's calling your name, but it falls upon deaf ears. Your body is moving much faster than your intoxicated brain can keep up with, but all you care about is getting as far away from the campfire as you can.

Footsteps follow after you, that voice is still calling your name. 

"I'm not dealing with this," you mutter. 

Against better judgement, you step off the beaten path and run into the forest as fast as your legs will carry you. Concern of what lurks in the forest is long forgotten, all you can think about is disappearing off the face of this Earth. 

Max will never have feelings for you. Not when Laura, pretty, bold, hardheaded Laura, stands there in the spotlight. Fuck Laura, fuck Max, and fuck truth or dare.

You stumble upon a clearing, with a conveniently placed ranger box that you've never seen before. Surely you've gone far enough.

"What the fuck," you say to yourself, sitting on the metal box, "what the fuck?"

It's cold out here, and now you wish you'd worn a jacket. The fire was warm, yes, but has it always been this cold at night? You don't recall it being cold this morning, but then again...

Max's stupid face manifests at the forefront of your thoughts. Him and his stupid freckles and his stupid brown hair that has no right to be as soft as it is. You can't believe you thought you had a chance with that cute, airheaded bastard. So what if he was so excited to introduce himself to you at orientation that he spilled his juice on your white shoes. 

There are plenty of fish in the sea, you're sure there's another guy out there who gives the sweetest hugs and calls you 'Honey' like it's going out of style. Who are you kidding? 

The only fish you want is named Max.

Water hits your cheek. Are you crying?

It happens again, cold, running down the side of your face, then again, and again. Great. You're not crying, its raining. 

"Wonderful," suddenly, you feel very, very sober as you take in your surroundings. It's so dark, who knows what's out here with you? 

You're walking, but you have no memory of which direction you came in from. Where even are you? You've never seen this area before, never the less walked through it. Nothing looks familiar, and to make matters worse, a downpour starts. 

"Can anybody here me?" You cry out, but you can barely hear your own voice over the rain. 

The ground is slick under your feet, no doubt your shoes are going to be caked with mud by the time you find your way back to the lodge. Something crashes behind you, scratching the back of your neck. Yelping, you bolt, mind jumping to a million places. What was that? A tree? A bear? 

Blood runs down your neck, hot and sticky, not at all like the frigid rain that's pelting your body. Water splashes under your feet, you're sure that it hasn't been raining very long but massive puddles have already formed; mud tugs at your shoes like a giant suction cup.

Pain blossoms in your right ankle. 

You hit the ground with a heavy thud, crying out as excruciating pain bites its way down your foot. 

"Fuck!" Your voice echoes the forest as you twist and turn in a frenzied horror, crying once more when the pain worsens. There's something tight latched around your ankle, teeth dug deep into your flesh. You're trying to pull your injured ankle away, but something holds tight; it feels like you're on a leash.

In the darkness, you catch a glimpse of shimmering silver. A bear trap.

Your foot is in a fucking bear trap. 

"What the fuck?" Your voice cracks. There's a chain on the end of the trap, wrapped around a thin tree. Your trembling hands pry at the jaws of the trap, but your efforts are futile. Prying the trap open feels like the equivalent of prying open the jaws of a bear, you're far too weak to even make it budge. 

The sharp, jagged teeth only dig into your flesh even more, boiling hot blood gushes from your wound like a waterfall, pooling in your shoe. Tears prick at your eyes, God this fucking hurts.

Light passes over you, impossibly bright, forces you to close your eyes in order to save your retinas from burning right out of your skull. A voice calls out. The light passes again, darts back to your pitiful frame in an instant. The voice raises again. 

Dear Lord, why did you have to send Max?

One minute the world is cold and lonely, the next, Max is there, warm arms wrapping around you, drawing you into an even warmer chest. No amount of trying can hide your sniffling, the pained wail that escapes your lips is almost pathetic. 

"Fuck, what the fuck?" His voice is high and pitchy, hands are cradling your cheeks. "Hold on, hold on."

He's letting you go, maneuvering down to get his fingers in between the jaws of the bear trap. Just his touch alone makes it all worse. 

You don't want to let go of him, but you're powerless to stop him as he maneuvers around you. His foot catches the chain, disturbing the trap, and somehow it clamps down even harder.

"Ow!" You yank your foot away from him, yelping when the trap bites yet again. Fuck the man who designed this, and fuck whoever decided to put this damn trap out here.

Max is saying something, but you're not registering it. How are you supposed to listen when a bear trap is trying its damn best to tear your foot right off your body. 

"Hey," he says again, "just keep your eyes on me, okay? I'm going to get you out of here." His hands slide down your leg as he speaks; you're too distracted by his voice to realize that he's placing your foot in his lap. "Just keep your eyes on me, honey."

You don't know why you comply. Maybe it's the pet name; maybe it's because your foot is in a bear trap. But you do, whining, you force your eyes to meet his. For the first time in your life, you struggle to lose yourself in his eyes, in him, his presence. He's stroking the sensitive skin at the bend of your knee, gently, slowly, coaxing your leg out from under you. You don't even remember when you'd yanked it away again. 

Slow, his fingers hook into the gaps of the teeth, biceps bulging under his jacket as he pries the trap open. The teeth slowly ease from your injured flesh, agonizingly slow, blood gushing from the wound. Finally, finally, it's open just enough for you to pull your foot out, and then it's snapping shut again with a noise that has your heart-stopping.

With your foot free from its confines, you stumble up to your feet, using a tree as leverage. What you don't expect is for your ankle to hurt even worse than it did when it was in the bear trap. It catches you so off guard that by the time you bite your tongue, you've already made a noise, and Max is reacting to it. 

"Hey, hey, hey, hold on," he's crowding you, wrapping an arm around you when you stumble. 

"I can walk on my own," you lie through your teeth; had he not sidled up next to you when he did, you would be on the ground again. 

"No, you can't," his voice gets that pitchiness again, "do you know how far away from camp we are? I've been looking for you for a half hour!"

It's only now that you realize how hard he's breathing. There's mud caked to his boots and the legs of his jeans, his hair so wet that he looks like he's walked right out of a shower, cheeks red. 

"Why even come after me?" You grumble under your breath. "Shouldn't you be making out with Laura by the campfire right about now?"

Max stiffens. "That's not...no, that's-"

"-that's not, what? Max?" The words drip from your lips like venom. Your injured foot its the ground again; trying your hardest to walk away, but it only throws your balance off even more. All it does for you is push you closer to Max, your shoulder bumping against his ridiculously firm chest. 

"I didn't kiss her." His words are so quiet, yet your ears burn as if he'd yelled them through a megaphone. 

Oh.

"I didn't spend an entire summer trying to work up the courage to ask you out, just to watch you walk away because of some stupid campfire game," whispered so quietly into your ear that it tickles, nose bumping against your cold cheek. 

Oh.

A wrongly placed step leads you to crash into him, minimizing the gap between you until there's almost nothing left. His nose bumps into yours, arms wrapping around your waist as he gathers you up against him. 

"Fuck you," you're wrapping your arms around his neck, "you couldn't have told me this sooner?"

And then you're kissing him. Lips clashing together, wet and messy. His lips are so soft against yours, moving slowly, molding against your own so easily, so naturally. Your head spins; if his large hands weren't gripping your waist, you fear you may float up into the clouds and never come back down.

Lightning flashes and thunder cracks, reminding you of your surroundings, of where you are. You've almost forgotten about the throbbing in your ankle, just a dull pain that can't even begin to take your mind off of Max. 

Then you're putting weight on it, and okay, maybe the pain is enough to take your mind off of him. "Ow, — shit."

Max is bending down, and in one motion, he scoops you off the ground. It's unfair how easily he does it. "Let's get you taken care of, honey," the goofy grin on his face is so big that it can be heard in his tone. 

He makes it look easy, carrying you out of the forest like it's the simplest thing he's ever done. You rest your head on his shoulder, shivering from the cold rain that doesn't want to let up. Thunder cackles and lightning crashes, lighting up the forest around you. You jump every time, clinging to Max just a little bit more. 

Forever passes before Max steps out into a clearing, the lodge standing tall before you, not a light on in sight. It's hard to tell if it's just abandoned or the power has gone out. Usually, the lamp post would be able to tell you, but the bulb burnt out weeks ago. Mr. H never wants to replace the damn lights. 

"Did you find them?" Abi's head pops out the door; breathes a sigh of relief when she catches glimpse of Max carrying you up the steps. 

It's much warmer inside; everyone's gathered by the fireplace, curled up in bean bags and whatever else they could have found. Dylan's even drug in Mr. H's spinning chair.

With the campfire's light, you can finally see just how messed up you really are. You're absolutely caked with mud, so much so that you can't even tell how badly your ankle has been injured. 

"Is there any reason why Mr. H would have bear traps in the woods?" This is the most serious tone you've ever come out of Max. 

"I'm sorry, bear traps?" Ryan's head pops up from behind Dylan. Weakly, you raise your bloody foot. It seems to be enough of an answer because everyone's face changes. 

Kaitlyn practically tears your shoe off, revealing your formerly white, now crimson red, sock. "This needs to be cleaned before it gets infected," she observes, gingerly touching the swollen skin around your injury, "you should go upstairs and get properly washed up."

Max doesn't need much convincing, already making for the single stairwell that's been cleared. There's a nice bathroom hidden upstairs; you've never seen the inside of it because Mr. H won't let anyone use it unless it's an emergency. 

It's worth the wait, though. The bathroom is ridiculously nice compared to the ones scattered around camp. Complete with a marble countertop, two sinks, and miniature stairs that lead to a comically large bathtub. It looks right out of a magazine. 

"So this must be where Mr. H takes his hot dates," Max comments, sitting you down on the edge of the counter. It feels strange to see the lights flick on, illuminating the room in a gentle, golden glow.

"You're a mess," you giggle, reaching out to pluck a leaf from Max's hair. He looks worse than you do, somehow. 

"It's been a hell of a night," he rolls his eyes when you tussle his wet hair, batting your offending hand away. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, soft and sweet. "I'm gonna go see if I can find you some clean clothes, 'kay?" 

You nod, stealing a second kiss just because you can now. When he's gone, you slide off the counter, balancing your weight on your good foot. Might as well start a bath. 

To your surprise, Mr. H has several bottles of bath bubbles stored in a cabinet, right next to some big, fluffy white towels. You hope he doesn't mind too much that you borrow some of the vanilla-scented bubbles and help yourself to more towels than you actually need. Surely he'll understand when he sees your injury. 

The hot water kicks on immediately, a stark contrast to the barely functioning showers downstairs. It takes at least forty-five seconds for the water to be tolerably warm and even longer for it to get hot. With the bubbles added, you begin to peel off your clothes, grimacing at how they stick to your skin. 

It all becomes worth it when you slide down into the tub, aching muscles relaxing the moment you've settled. Even the dull stinging in your ankle cannot take away from how nice the water feels around you. 

"Sorry, I couldn't find your bag, so I'm giving you some of my clothes instead — holy shit!" Max yelps, turning his back to you. "I am so sorry; oh my God, I should have knocked."

You can't help but laugh, unbothered by the intrusion. "If I cared about you walking in, I would have locked the door," you giggle, "you can turn around, silly."

Truthfully, you hadn't even thought about locking the door. As long as it's him and not someone else, you can't bring yourself to care about the intrusion. He's pretty much seen you at your worst already. 

His movements are slow, cheeks flaming red as he sets his bag of clothes on the counter. He doesn't look at you, refuses to tear his eyes from his feet. 

"You have so much mud on you," you remark, tracing your eyes up his frozen frame. 

Blue eyes dart to you, then back to the floor. "I'll wash it off once you're taken care of."

Hm. 

"I mean," you can't believe you're suggesting this, "this bath is big enough for the two of us."

You swear he jumps. 

"I-" he rubs the back of his neck, gaze fixated on the bottom of the tub, "are you serious?"

Shrug. "Serious as a bear trap." 

Leaning your head back, you close your eyes. Only after a night of drinking and bear traps would you ever consider suggesting sharing a bath with Max. He's shuffling around, shoes hitting the floor with a small thump. You peek an eye open. Immediately you're met with an eye full as Max lifts his shirt from his body, back muscles rippling with the motion. He must see you in the mirror because he freezes, shirt still above his head. 

"Don't mind me," closing your eyes again. 

It's another minute or two before you feel the bath water disturb. You want to open your eyes, but you save it for when you feel him settling in across from you, legs bumping into your own. He looks like a deer in headlights, but he's there, toned chest, messy hair, and all. 

Teasing, you bump your knee against his. "You look terrified." 

"You're just really pretty," he says like he's in a trance, only breaking from it when your eyes widen. "I mean, I...did I say that out loud? I'm sorry, that probably sounded really weird. I didn't-"

You don't know what possesses you to do it, but you find yourself turning and scooting over to his side of the tub, water sloshing as you curl yourself into his side. His jaw snaps shut the moment your head comes to rest against his shoulder. 

"Oh." It's clear in his tone that he's more than surprised, but he raises no objections, even relaxes against you. His head leans on top of yours, arm shifting to wrap around your shoulders and draw you even closer. 

His heart is beating away in his chest; you can hear it from where your ear rests against his collarbone. "I'm sorry that I made you feel like I didn't have feelings for you," he presses his lips to your temple, "I really should have confessed weeks ago." 

"Weeks ago?" 

He hums; the vibration tickles. "I was going to, back when we had that slumber party."

Ah, the slumber party. Simultaneously one of the best and longest nights of your stay at Hacketts Quarry. If only Emma didn't have a foghorn in her family lineage. 

"What stopped you?" 

"Emma's snoring kept interrupting me."

You can't help the giggle that falls from your lips. It certainly explains his strange behavior from that night, from the endless stuttering to the way he would stare off into space. 

"What are you laughing at, hm?" His arm around you tightens, breath tickling your skin. "Are you laughing at me?" 

It only makes you laugh more, trying and failing to push his head away. "No, I'm not!" You squeal, squirming away from the fingers tickling your waist. Your legs kick, unintentionally sloshing water out of the tub and onto the flooring below; the tickles stop immediately after, but they're replaced by something more. 

Kisses.

Tiny ones, all up and down the side of your face, neck, and any open skin Max can reach. Laughter erupts after every peck; this night genuinely doesn't feel real. He works his way over to your lips once he's covered every inch of you in kisses. It turns out he's saved the best for last. 

The angle is awkward; you have to crane your neck to the side to meet his lips properly, but it's worth the struggle. Just a simple caress at first, feather-light and barely there, then it deepens, head spinning, lips interlocked in the sloppiest of ways. His free hand is finding yours, guiding it up until your fingers intertwine in his hair; he sighs as that, smiling into the kiss. 

Your neck is starting to hurt, but the idea of breaking your kiss for even a second hurts more. In one swift motion, you turn, throwing your leg over and straddling his hips, properly settled into his lap. 

"Fuck," he gasps against your lips, "honey." 

You can feel him pressed up against you between your legs; a shiver wracks down your spine. You'd almost forgotten that you were naked, but God, you could really get used to this. Large hands settle on your thighs, fingertips tracing from the back of your knees to the base of your neck; one settles there, the other finds its way around your waist, gathering you into his chest. 

Teeth nip at your bottom lip, hot tongue soothing over the area, and who are you to deny him? You meet him halfway, heat blossoms in your belly, tongues sloppily tangling before retreating. This time, you don't mean to move, but your knee slides under you, unintentionally grinding down into his lap. That heat rages into a fire, thighs twitching around his hips. Shit, that shouldn't have felt as nice as it did. 

Max is breaking away from you, toned chest panting, pupils blown wide. Not a word falls from his lips, but his eyes, the hand resting on the swell of your ass, say it all. All you can do is nod. Whatever this is, you want it. 

His lips find your exposed neck in an instant, kissing at a spot below your ear that has a noise falling from your kiss-swollen lips. The hand you had tangled in his hair comes up to cover your mouth, muffling the next sound that ripples out of your throat when Max's tongue traces down the side of your neck. 

He pauses, reaching up to remove the hand from your mouth, "wanna hear you." His voice is husky, a far cry from his usual tone. 

Arms wrap tightly around you, and then he's moving, lifting you up and out of the water. The room is surprisingly cold compared to the lukewarm water, and you barely have time to hook your legs around his hips before he's stepping out of the bath. He sets you up on the counter, pecking your lips as he does so.

All you see is white. 

The towel on your head moves back, settling around your wet shoulders instead, "sorry," Max chuckles, and then he's kissing you again.

It's chaotic, torn between teasing tongues and lingering lips, teeth clacking together as you try to dry yourselves the best that you can. The bathroom counter is low enough for Max's hips to comfortably slot between your legs, and you can feel the head of his cock nudging between your legs, but it's still too high. Not if you want him in you.  

Squirming to the edge of the counter isn't enough, but Max is smart, catches on to what you're trying to do so quickly that you're suspicious as to whether or not he can read minds. 

"Do you want this, honey?" He whispers against your lips, tone sickly sweet. 

"Do you really need an answer to that?" This man is going to give you cavities. 

Fingers brush up the inside of your thighs, wandering up, up, up; sparks fire their way up your spine. His lips find yours again, briefly, because you can't help the gasp that escapes you when his thumb teases your entrance. 

"Fuck, Max." He has no right to smile that cutely at a time like this. 

Especially not when he sinks to his knees guides your legs over his shoulders and begins kissing and licking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, leaving behind patches of red that will surely bruise in the morning. His breath is hot, fanning out against your most sensitive areas. Pause. Then, his tongue is on you, with slow, languid strokes that have your head falling back against the mirror with a loud gasp.

You're bringing your hand up, trying to catch the whine that leaves you, but Max is prying it away before it can even get there. Blue eyes shimmer up at you, guiding your hand to the back of his head. 

"Fu-fuck, Max!" You mewl, tangling your hand in his hair. 

 He draws away from you, just long enough to wet two of his fingers with his tongue, and then he's back. Fingertips teasing at your entrance, tongue flicking against you. You squirm, panting, hand tugging at his hair, God, why is he so fucking good at this?

There's a pressure, a long, calloused finger sliding into you, in and out, moving in perfect tune with his tongue. Sucking harshly, chuckling when you jolt, then there's a second finger, stretching you so, so nicely. His tongue wanders between his fingers, momentarily dips inside of you, travels back up, down, back in again. 

"Max~!" You cant help the profanities that fall from your lips when his fingers curl, rubbing against a sensitive spot that you didn't know was there. You're tightening around his fingers, squirming; you don't know if you want more or if you want to get away from it. 

A third finger eases into your trembling body, then a fourth, working into a rhythm that's driving you towards the edge. No, no, no, it's too early for you to cum already. 

Words fail you; you don't even know what you're trying to say. All you can do is tug at his hair, kicking your good foot against his back. 

"Is something wrong?" His lips and chin are shiny, wet with saliva, and you.

"Close," is all you can say. What in the world did he expect? 

Max chuckles at that, pressing one last kiss to your thigh before coming back up. He's reaching into the cabinet behind you, and your eyes don't miss how wet his hand has become. "You don't reckon Mr. H has any condoms lying around here, do you?" 

The eye roll that leaves you is almost instantaneous. "Don't need one."

That's enough for him. He's gathering you up again, guiding your legs over his hips, and then he's lifting you, and your back is hitting the wall. 

Oh.

Oh.

That's why he used four fingers.

"Good lord," is all you can say, eyes fixated on his cock, resting between your legs. It's not the length that you're worried about; it's how absolutely thick he is. How the hell does he plan to fit that in you? 

He has no right to turn so red, bashfully avoiding your eye, but he spits into his hand and works his saliva over himself so confidently that your head spins. You'd always known there were two sides to Max, but come to find out, there are actually three.

"Tell me if it hurts, honey," he murmurs, leaning in to peck your lips, "'kay?" 

"What, think I can't take it?" You tease, but you don't even know if you can take that. Only one way to find out. 

Now it's his turn to roll his eyes, shifting to line himself up with your entrance. There's a pressure bigger than the one his fingers brought, and then he's pushing inside. Your body flutters open, slow; your legs twitch at the stretch. There's a strange popping sensation as the head finally eases all the way in. 

"There you go," Max's eyes are fixated between your legs, mesmerized by how his cock stretches you open, disappearing inside inch by agonizingly slow inch. 

Your head is spinning; you have to remind yourself to breathe, mewling at just how deliciously wide he spreads you. You don't know where your body is finding the space, but your insides are clenching around him greedily, taking it and taking it until finally, finally, his hips are flush against yours.

"Fuck," Max breathes, "how are you feeling?"

"Full." More than full. Full to the point that it's hard to breathe. Your legs are trembling; if it wasn't for him pressing you into the wall, you're sure you would have fallen by now. 

His hips rock, drawing out just a little bit, then sinking back in, once, twice, driving the breath from your lungs with every shallow thrust. Quicker now, he draws out, drives his hips back up; the whimper that leaves you is loud, echoes throughout the bathroom. 

“You like that, honey?” And when you clench down around him, he groans, repeats that motion again. Your head knocks back against the wall. 

With his lips settling on your neck, Max sets his pace, long, slow thrusts, twitching his hips in different angles as he fucks you open until he hits a spot that has you jolting in his arms. One of your hands are tangled in his brown hair; the other is around his neck, nails biting into and raking down his pale shoulder with every dizzying thrust. 

"Max!" His name falls from your lips like a mantra, like it's the only word you know. "T-there!"

"Yeah?" He breathes, picking up his pace but the head of his cock never once loses that spot. Hits it over and over until you feel tears burning behind your eyelids. 

"Eyes on me, honey," his lips ghost the shell of your ear, cock driving into you harder now, sudden, shattering the agonizing pace he'd built up. You don't even know when you closed your eyes, but when you pry them open, the sight you find is enough to make your eyes roll back again. 

Max, sweet, sweet Max, pink-cheeked, irises blown wide, muscles rippling every time he drives himself back into you. Even as he's panting for breath, he has the audacity to grin at you, chuckles when you whimper. 

He's shuffling, pushing you higher up the wall just by his hips, driving out the space between you. This angle is so, so different; he's hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, harder, just a little bit faster than before. Lips lock with yours, tongues tangling with such ease that you feel yourself become lightheaded. 

There's a heat roaring in your belly, grows hotter every time his hips meet yours, body squirming, powerless to do anything but take it. You're whining, both hands on his shoulders now, gasping for breath against his plush lips. 

"Honey," he groans, punctuates it with a particularly hard thrust that has you seeing stars, "are you close?"

All you can do is nod, whimpering his name. Max is losing his rhythm, torn between long and short strokes into your aching hole, and God, you're so fucking close that your whole body is shaking. You can't even clench around him anymore; body so worked open by his dick that you've lost all control over it.  

"Inside," you choke out, burying your head in his neck, "cum in me." 

He doesn't need to be told twice, picking up the pace. You can't think, can't even contain your noises, and thank God the bathroom is on the farthest side of the lodge, where nobody can hear you cry out his name one last time. 

Your vision goes white; nails dig into Max’s back as you cum around him. His hips stutter to a halt, cums in your trembling body with a strangled noise that sounds like your name. For a few moments, you're weightless, floating up into the clouds as your body spasms with what energy it has left. 

There's a wetness on your shoulder.

All of a sudden, you're back on Earth, lungs working double time. One of your legs have fallen, only held up by Max's hips and the hand that's rubbing circles into your lower back. You clench around him; he jumps. 

"Are you crying?" 

Red, puffy eyes meet yours. "Happy tears," he promises, rubbing your noses together. 

It takes a minute for him to pull out of you, cum spilling out and running down your thighs. Your legs are shaking so badly that you can't stand, and you're very aware of your injury again. Max wastes no time in scooping you up again and placing you on the counter, takes his time cleaning you up. 

The bathroom is much warmer than it was when you first walked in, but it's still considerably cold. While Max busies himself with a warm cloth between your thighs, you reach into his bag in search of warm, dry clothes, and by God do you find them.

"Well, that's just not fair," he pouts, "why do you look better in my clothes than I do?" You blush at that, fiddling with the end of his sweater. 

With a properly cleaned and wrapped ankle, you climb onto Max's back, comfortably resting there as he carries you downstairs. Much to your relief, they've put a movie on the projector, barely even noticing your arrival.

"Took you long enough," Emma sing-songs. "We figured you'd drowned up there."

"Sorry, got caught up in a battle with the house ghosts," you struggle to hide your wince when you sit down. Something tells you that you'll not be able to walk in the morning, or the next day, for that matter. 

You thought you'd hid it pretty well until Max winks at you. 

Smug bastard.

And if anybody notices the way you waddle to the truck the next morning, they don't say anything. Not even when Mr. H drops you off where the cars are parked and you clamber into Max's passenger seat rather than hopping on the bus with Emma. 

"So," Max grins, tapping the steering wheel, "what adventure are we going on next?" 

This world isn't ready for the hell the two of you are about to raise.

After you can walk again, of course. 

[the-oc-lass]

Where's Gregor been? I miss Gregor.

TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE SUCH A SHORT LITTLE THING, BUT OH WELL.

Gregor is a fine piece of man and I miss him, so he gets baby time too. Gregor and a Baby is up on Ao3 (yes, I'm going to name them all "[Clone's Name] and a Baby"). It involves some of Gregor's cooking skills, some of the others are also there, and we have lots of fun.

This is a little fun series, so, in case you missed them:

Crosshair and a Baby

Wrecker and a Baby

More to come soon!

By the way, someone please tell me if it's obvious who Ec's dad is, because I got a comment telling me that the tags gave it away and I have, like no idea what they're talking about?

Anyway, in case you don't want to go to Ao3, the full fic is below the cut. Enjoy!

Gregor is the second best cook in their entire base of operations. He’s only second behind pseudo-General Rayona Yothia, and that makes a lot of sense considering that she was raised on actual food and learned to cook much earlier in her life than Gregor. That being said, Gregor is still a pretty damn good cook, and Rayona herself has said as much. The only one who doesn’t seem to agree with the sentiment is one Ec Yothia, who is just beginning his transition from his mom’s milk to solid foods. He’s apparently inherited both of his parents’ particular palates and that makes him very picky. The only thing he seems to like is fruit, specifically moja. The problem is, fruit is a hard thing to come by these days. Gregor will fight tooth and nail to get some fruit for the kid, but there’s only so much he can do. At the moment, he’s got a bowl of mashed tubbers in front of Ec and a spoonful of it in his hand. He holds it toward the baby, cooing at him to try and coax him into trying it. Ec whines and flails his arms around, pulling a face when Gregor holds the tubbers closer. It makes Gregor sigh, and he lowers the spoon back into the bowl. It’s not like the food goes to waste, at least. It’s pretty plain since he made it for Ec, but it’s still light years better than what they ate during the war and on Kamino. Troopers will fight over Ec’s uneaten meals if Gregor lets them. He sighs, looking away from Ec in defeat. Back to the drawing board. Nearby, Rayona and Hunter are both looking over at him and Ec, clearly abandoning whatever conversation they were having before. They glance at each other and Rayona sighs. 

“I’ll be back,” she says. Hunter nods and briefly sets a hand on her shoulder, perhaps to squeeze it, then Gregor watches as Rayona walks over to him. “It was a good try, Gregor. I’ll make sure he’s fed.” Gregor purses his lips and nods, looking back at Ec with a small frown. His spirit is lifted slightly when the General presses a kiss to his temple before picking up her son. She leaves the room to get Ec fed and Gregor sighs and stands up, glancing over at Hunter as he holds up the mashed tubbers. 

“Hungry?” 

After several more failed attempts at finding something Ec likes other than fruit, Gregor is running out of ideas. To his surprise, the solution comes from Wrecker. Gregor has just finished once again trying and failing to get Ec to eat something he made when the larger clone speaks up. 

“Do you remember that paste stuff they used to feed us on Kamino sometimes? It sort of tasted like fruit, I think…I dunno, I just remember Cross and Hunter used to like it. Tasted better than most of the stuff they gave us,” he says. It puzzles Gregor at first. Paste stuff that tastes like fruit? Since Wrecker mentions that Hunter and Crosshair enjoyed…whatever it was, Gregor asks them about it. 

“Jogansauce,” Crosshair drawls. “The Kaminoans would import crates of the stuff because it was cheap.” When Gregor thinks about it, that does sound familiar. 

“I remember that stuff. Tasted better than anything else they gave us on Kamino,” Hunter says, nodding along. He glances back at Gregor. “If you’re looking for something else to try with Ec, that might be a good place to start.” Gregor hums. He could probably make his own jogansauce, but that would probably be more expensive than just feeding Ec the fruit on its own. He nods after a moment. 

“Thanks. I’ll talk to Rex and Rayona,” he says. The two nod and Crosshair mumbles out a “Good luck” as Gregor walks away. 

Rayona hums, a finger curled around her chin. 

“Jogansauce, huh? They used to give that to us as younglings at the temple. Probably pretty cheap,” she says, before glancing at Rex. “Think Riyo could hook us up with some?” Rex sighs. 

“Senator Chuchi is busy, Rayona,” he says. Rayona raises an eyebrow and tilts her head at him. He sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But I can ask in the next transmission.” Rayona grins, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. 

“Thank you, Rex,” she all but coos. 

Alright. Moment of truth. Thanks to the kindness of Senator Riyo Chuchi, they have some small jars of jogansauce for Ec. Now, Gregor can only pray to whatever higher power there may be (the Force, maybe? That seemed to work for the Jedi) that Ec will actually eat it. The food won’t go to waste if he doesn’t, but he’s hoping it doesn’t come to that. The entire thing has even drawn a small crowd, consisting of Rayona, the Bad Batch, and Rex. Gregor sits before a hungry Ec, a spoonful of jogansauce poised on a small spoon in his hand. He takes a breath, then lifts the spoon toward Ec’s mouth. The child considers it for a moment, then opens his mouth. Gregor holds his breath and slowly feeds the spoonful to Ec. And the child makes a delighted little noise and giggles, slapping his hands against the little table in front of him. 

“Sweet grace of the Force, he likes it,” Rayona says, sounding relieved. Gregor could cry. He may not have made the food, but at least there’s finally something else they can feed Ec. He’s utterly relieved. He scoots a little closer, scooping up another spoonful and offering it to Ec. The baby eagerly devours it, making happy little gurgling noises. Gregor looks over his shoulder at the group. 

“Wrecker, you’re a genius!” he says. Wrecker blinks. 

“I am?” He looks down at Rayona, who nods, and he grins widely and laughs. “Oh yeah, I am! You hear that, Tech?” Wrecker nudges Tech’s arm, jostling the other man slightly. Tech adjusts his goggles, glancing over at Wrecker. 

“Yes, Wrecker, I heard,” he says. Rayona looks toward Gregor and her smile suddenly drops, changing to wide-eyed surprise. 

“Gregor, watch-” She’s barely finished taking a step toward him when he’s hit in the side of the face. He lifts his hand to wipe his cheek, looking back at Ec, who giggles. The child has jogansauce all over his hands and face. And, Gregor realizes, he threw some at Gregor’s face as well. Gregor blinks at the child, who simply laughs at him. Somewhere behind Gregor, someone snorts in an attempt to hide their laugh. Ec swings his hand at Gregor and a little more jogansauce hits him in the face. Rayona carefully creeps into his peripheral vision, her hands hiding her mouth, and he looks up at her. That’s all it takes for her to start giggling. “Oh, stars, I need a holo of this. Tech!” While Rayona continues to giggle, Gregor looks back at Ec. When the child smiles at him, Gregor can’t help but chuckle and smile back. 

“Little rascal,” he says, poking Ec’s cheek. Ec giggles and Gregor hears the sound of a holo being taken, but his attention is purely on the baby. It may have gotten a bit messy, but at least Ec is happy.

P.S. jogansauce is just space applesauce.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.65 Mistake

Sophia took advantage of her day off and slept in. I woke up around 11:00 and made sure the pups were okay. Kooper was snoozing while Rosie was completely awake, just like me. I showed her some love, then taught her how to go potty outside. Sophia was still knocked out at like 2:00, so I went for a jog, hoping the puppies wouldn't bug her too bad. See? Neither of us would survive this relationship either if we kept woohooing like that. One day, our brains would just stop working, haha. But if we croaked early, at least we'd be together.

After I returned and showered, Sophia had finally woken up and ate leftover frittatas. Dad called, saying Mama had called him this morning, all excited about me. He was relieved I finally decided to tell her, not because he had difficulty keeping my secret, but because he believed I shouldn't have hidden it from her.

"What's all that noise back there?" he asked. "It sounds like screaming children. Do you have another secret to share?"

"HA! No, I do not. We adopted two puppies. I think they're doing a duet."

"Oh my. Well, you've certainly got your hands full. I'll let you go. That's all I had to say."

We said goodbye, and I washed dishes.

"So...yesterday I got the feeling you wanted to go out," she said.

"Oh. I mean.... It's not that I wanted to go out. I'm just not really a home guy, so all my suggestions involve leaving the house. But I enjoyed being at home with you, though."

"Okay, well, yesterday we did what I wanted, so today we're going to do what you want, and I think you want to get dressed up and go dancing!"

"That's what I want, huh?"

She nodded affirmatively.

"That's what you want."

She took Gammy's advice way too seriously, but I had no problem with that.

Yasmine called while I was getting dressed, and I seized the opportunity for privacy while Sophia was in the shower. She wanted to see me, of course. I told her I had plans and was currently getting ready, but assured her I'd reach out tomorrow because I wanted to talk to her. Knowing she'd soon have my undivided attention, she let me go.

Sophia took her sweet time getting ready, but when she finally came out, I was floored. She had on a short skirt, a crop top with plenty of eye candy, and cowgirl boots. The boots were an odd choice, but surprisingly, they worked. Her hair was all curled up, and she had on a bit more makeup. She was smoking hot, and I did not want to leave the house anymore. But she insisted we get a move on, so we made our way back to Windenburg, the mecca of nightlife and the very spot where it all began for us.

It was like six something in the evening, but the place was packed as if it were 11:30. The DJ was on point, and I knew the night was about to be lit. We hit up the bar first, and I couldn't take my eyes off Sophia. She was already beautiful without all the extra, but damn! I didn't expect her to go all out, but she still had the simple elegance theme going. She never ceased to amaze me.

We finished our drinks, headed downstairs, and got in where we fit in. The dancefloor was massive, so there was plenty of space for us, despite the crowd. Still, we decided to stick to the back, where it was more relaxed and private. Mama would be bummed if she found out I was a just okay dancer, but Sophia and I were equally matched in that department. We had so much fun, moving and grooving, shaking our hips. Heh, I particularly enjoyed Sophia's hips.

I got my fill of dancing and turned around to check out everyone else. That's when I saw her...

I still thought her outfit was cool and would know it was her anywhere. Did she see me? Did she see Sophia? The dancefloor wasn't the best spot for our chat, but if she saw us, things could get messy—on both sides. I went to Sophia first to explain what I was about to do because I didn't want her to get the wrong idea when she saw me talking to another woman.

"Sophia... I just saw someone I used to hang out with. She's been calling me a lot lately, so I'm gonna go over there and talk to her."

She had a total deer-in-the-headlights look.

"O-kay?"

I knew deep down this was a bad idea, but it was already out there, so I tried to fix it up.

"I've been meaning to call her and tell her about us, but I keep putting it off. And she's right there. I could just do it right now."

She still looked confused, but not as much.

"Do what you need to do," she said.

I pulled her into a tight hug for more damage control.

"I love you. I'll be right back."

Yasmine spotted me, and I watched her smile fade as she connected the dots.

"That the reason you've been dodging my calls?" she asked, nodding toward Sophia.

I looked back at her and smiled.

"Yeah. That's my girlfriend, Sophia."

She shot me a glare that could melt steel.

"Girlfriend? Since when do you have a girlfriend?"

"Officially? Since this week. But I think I always knew she was the one for me. I met her a while ago."

Her jaw dropped, and I could tell she was getting heated.

"The one? Y'all getting married or something?"

I shrugged.

"Sure...one day."

She put her hand up to stop me from speaking.

"I just have one question."

My stomach did a somersault. This was a terrible idea, and I was not prepared for the coming storm. She seemed like the kind of person who was really good at causing scenes.

"How you gonna judge me for wanting an open relationship when you were messing around with both of us?"

I tried on different responses like clothes, but none of them fit. Our situations weren't the same—not by a long shot. Yet, I could see how she arrived at that conclusion.

"I didn't... That's different! I wasn't in a relationship with either of you! It was just casual dating. I thought you understood that."

She sighed.

"I did."

"So...what's wrong?"

"I played myself. I really like you, Luca."

"You know what I was looking for, and I have that now. Sorry I didn't say anything sooner, but I can't have you blowing up my phone."

"She's pretty."

"Yeah...she is."

"I hate this."

"What?"

"This! How it feels. I'm usually the one breaking things off. I hate you," she said with pouty lips.

I tried to keep a straight face.

"No you don't."

"Maybe just a little."

"I'm really sorry you had to find out like this. I wish I'd been braver and talked to you sooner."

"That makes two of us. I feel really stupid, Luca."

She was not going to give me even one inch.

"I'm sorry! Can we agree to keep things friendly from now on?"

She sucked her teeth.

"She's not gonna let us be friends."

I glanced at Sophia who was watching us closely with the most amazing smile.

"You're probably right. But that is something we're both going to have to respect."

I was mainly talking about her, but it taught me something too. Mama's problems began with this exact scenario when she refused to let go of Dwayne. But since I wasn't in love with Yasmine, I didn't see myself going there. Still, it was probably better to cut ties to avoid all suspicion and temptation. I'll never get why Mama did what she did, but maybe I could be more forgiving.

"Was this what you wanted to talk to me about tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes."

As if on cue, Sophia sashayed toward us with that unwavering smile, glancing at Yasmine.

"Are you ready to go, babe?" she asked, brushing past me.

Yasmine shot her a dirty look as she walked past, but surprisingly, she didn't stay mad for long.

"Okay, Luca! She cute cute. I bet she's a closet freak. And thicc too? I know you like that. Not mad."

I let out a big breath and shook my head at her being so outspoken.

"Thanks...I think?"

"It hurts, but I'm glad you found someone who can give you what you want. If you have any open-minded friends or a twin, send them my way."

I'd never get her and this whole non-exclusive thing, especially after seeing her mope about us not hanging out anymore. Regardless, I hoped she'd find someone who could give her what she wanted. May the Watcher bless him.

[kranagok0]

Louise, the photographer and possible cosplayer (that last one is a head-canon of mine)

Okay, let's talk about Louise and why I feel that the character was not explored more when she could have appeared more times in the last chapters of the series.

I mean, I mean, look at this character and tell me he doesn't deserve more prominence. In this last season I saw quite a few interesting characters and nothing was delved into about them. I mean, I loved the series and its ending was also glorious, but I would have liked to see in more depth each and every one of the characters that they included from one moment to the next.

Anders? I bet they only put it in to give Hilda a reason to go back to Tofoten to investigate (plus we were already making a lot of theories about who Hilda's father was and they wanted to clarify that point).

Astrid's neighbor? This guy seemed to know something, I don't know what but it was like he knew more than he should. It was as if they had wanted to include it in the plot but in the end they didn't have time to do that whole process.

And I have several more, characters from other seasons and so on, but let's return to the main topic. We will talk about this in another post that I am preparing.

As I was saying, Louise feels like a character with the potential (or at least for me) to create a problem big enough to make an extra chapter or season of the series. In other words, everyone in the trio of young adventurers is literally involved in causing chaos and some kind of incident that could have escalated simply by being themselves.

David is a perfect example. The boy literally collects rocks and takes them home. We all know what incident was involved so I'll skip the details and say this: the boy was able to go to prison.

Frida is not far behind, no sir, of course not. This girl was determined to raise the dead for a book, a damned book that not even the filthy ghosts had. It caused a fight between the city's nisse at the Sparrow Scout meeting place (of course it was to help Hilda, but let's leave that aside for now). And I may not know much about witchcraft, but breaking into the witches' tower (and private areas of the library) is certainly something to talk about.

And Hilda….. Well……:

[Insert crimes against humanity meme]

Now look at Louise. He is without a doubt a bread of god. AND IT HAS NOT CAUSED THE POSSIBLE ANNIHILATION OF A CITY!

We urgently need this child to cause some trouble immediately. I don't know what to do, I just want it to get into the friend dynamic of 'we're not solving the problem, we're making a bigger one that will make you forget about the original problem.'

We need ideas people, and this is where we all come in. I mean, I'm not forcing them. I am only politely demanding that you create some extra information about Louise to be clearer about the personality of this new member of the trio of friends. Seriously, I want (need) more things from this character.

There's so much to do with this character and they just didn't use almost any of it in the series. So help me help them help me to help this character help him help me to help them help me and…. Okay, I've already lost even myself in this. But I get my point across.

So I await your comments, I would like to know what head-canon you have about the photographer boy. Mine is that he cosplays, and I would love to see him try to integrate Hilda, David and Frida into cosplaying (I once saw an image of David as Baldur from God of War and I was fascinated).

So that's all from me. I send you greetings and don't forget to comment on your ideas. Now I'm going to write more of that post about the things that were missing when investigating characters in the series. bye

[scoobydoodean]

So I did a poll on this not that long ago, but now that I have finished 3.15 on this rewatch, I thought I'd give my two cents on what Sam was planning in terms of using Doc Benton's alchemy to make himself and Dean immortal. I think the following details are pretty damn important.

First, Sam lies to Dean about his sense about the case. He does so by omission—he "neglects" to state that he thinks Doc Benton is responsible for the bodies that are turning up and lets Dean believe they're hunting zombies. But Sam knew this was Doc Benton—or at least he heavily suspected it. This is why, when the coroner shows them the latest victim has been cut with the precision of a scalpel, not teeth, Sam starts to look excited. Of course, Sam also admits he suspected Benton all along after Dean confronts him about it. Sam denies it at first but does a bad job of covering his dishonesty because he's not very good at lying to Dean. Now—one possible interpretation here is that Sam "didn't want to get Dean's hopes up". Sam sort of implies this when he says, "I didn't wanna say anything until I was sure". But... Sam thought they were dealing with Benton, and given that John had had a previous run-in with Benton, it actually would have been extremely easy to convince Dean to go on this case without lying about who the M.O. was actually suggesting to Sam. Which to me, means... maybe not wanting to get Dean's hopes up is what Sam tells himself, but... it's not a particularly logical or sensible explanation. Sam could have easily concealed his interest in Benton's alchemy while admitting he thought it was Benton from the get go.

The reason I think Sam doesn't admit it is at least partly that he wants to slowly ease Dean into the idea of studying Benton's alchemy. He (rightly I think) assumes that Dean isn't going to like what Doc Benton does, and the longer Dean has to think about Doc Benton and what exactly he does, and the longer Dean is in "hunter" mode with Benton as his targeted prey, the more disgusted and wrathful Dean's going to become. Sam thinks that if he can direct the narrative a little, where they're "stumbling" across a possible method of saving Dean, he can warm Dean up to the idea of looking into Benton's science—science that Sam knows is very likely to involve some really fucked up shit.

This leads me to a second important detail, which is how exactly Sam thinks this immortality thing "buying them time" is going work:

I mean, we're talking hell in three weeks. Or needing a new pancreas in like half a century...

But... this is argument is predicated upon a completely false premise. There are two things Sam and Dean both know without a shadow of a doubt at this point in time:

Hell hounds are coming for Dean in three weeks and they're going to rip his body to shreds.

Nothing about Benton's method of achieving immortality prevents his body from being torn to pieces. That's the entire reason he's been harvesting people's organs for decades in the first place. Parts get damaged or start falling apart, and then Benton has to replace them.

So when Sam refers to a pancreas Dean's going to need in "half a century", he is completely denying a very obvious reality. It isn't going to be 50 years. It's going to be three weeks, and then Dean's going to be torn apart, and then he is going to need a whole slew of new body parts and organs. In other words, when Sam refers to some pancreas Dean is going to need in 50 years, he is either stupid, fully in denial because he's so desperate to find a way to save Dean, or is basically shouting, "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain" hoping Dean won't catch onto the very inconvenient flaw in Sam's plan.

Personally, I don't think Sam is stupid. I also don't think his initial attempts to conceal who he thought was the culprit in the case he found lend to reading this in a way where Sam doesn't actually grasp the consequences.

In 3.11 Mystery Spot, we saw Sam say "Then let's go get some" when Not!Bobby said they could summon Gabriel to get revenge for Dean by finding someone and bleeding them dry for a spell. And we'll see Sam make more plays, going forward, where yes, other people might bite it so his brother can live... but that's a sacrifice Sam is willing to make.

That said, my personal opinion of what Sam was really thinking in 3.15 actually falls somewhere between Sam being in denial and Sam very much understanding the consequences of the plan he's forming and being okay with those consequences. I think in a sense, both are true. On the one hand, I think Sam knew deep down exactly what he was willing to do to keep Dean alive. On the other hand, I don't think Sam ever looked at his own reflection in the mirror on this. Sam suggesting Dean won't need an organ for 50 years and they're just "buying time" somehow isn't just what Sam wants Dean to believe so maybe he'll agree... it's what Sam needs to believe too as he slowly eases himself into the idea of using Benton's alchemy.