#it’s good to rewrite and go slow and plan it’s actually good

[majoringinsarcasm]

I’ve reached that point in my writing history that I’m now experiencing Drafting Hell in which complicated and detailed stories. Now need many different iterations. Sometimes needing to be rewritten 100%.

I won’t lie. When I first thought of this idea I did. Think it would be easier than it turned out to be haha. It’s silly in hindsight because I’ve never written a You Choose / CYOA story. And what I have planned is. More ambitious than is probably advisable. But I’m nothing if not stupid as hell and it’s Large but that’s ok purpose bc the number is significant and I don’t see it being broken up into smaller chunks? I suppose I Could set it up that way but people might not check out the other half or third of it

So big dumb boy is in the world. I’ve been hot and cold with this project as my mood has ebbed and flowed and not making progress makes me discouraged and all that. HOWEVER I think these setbacks are really good for me because it’s taught me that it’s okay to have setbacks and it’s very very good to just brainstorm without writing things out.

I think what I’m having trouble with is the Plotting. It started with a theme, I got away from the theme, and now I’m circling back to theming but in smaller chunks rather than an Overall theme for the whole story. It’s not easy to make X amount of endings with one specific theme and it wasn’t very fun. That’s another thing too I get lost in wanting it to be So Amazing that I get stressed out and forget it’s meant to be fun before anything else.

I write fics for fun. And when they aren’t fun I don’t write. I want to write this which means first and foremost I have to make it fun For Myself, which means doing stuff that maybe only I will like. And I’ve learned that it’s okay to do that. It’s best to do that. Outside of commissions if you’re doin what you want to do and do it with passion and love and fun people will pick up on that. There’s someone out there who wants to read your silly little one shot or your giant magnum opus and all it needs is to be made with love.

So! My new goals are as follows:

Keep it fun! Without fun it just becomes and baby you’re not getting paid please relax.

Themes! I’m trying to split things up with Math so I’m sadly learning I HAVE to figure out how many branches are gonna happen and then decide how to theme the areas.

Realism! Some areas might be very short. I have to learn to be okay with that. If I’m making it Big then I have to be okay with not every section being long. You’re already attempting something wild. Sometimes wild means short. And that’s okay. Nobody is judging you beyond yourself.

I remember a few years ago I wanted to attempt writing commissions. I’ve only ever done one or two and those were for my friend. I can’t imagine how stressed I would be trying to write for a stranger for money! I stress myself out with my own projects! I’m very silly. Don’t be silly like me!

[kosmicdream]

Hello. After drawing webcomics for 10 years and making about 10,000 pages of comics, here are some things i have learned/observed in that experience..

1) making comics does not get easier.. Not really

Making comics is a tedious and slow process and with so many different facets of the experience to learn - you’ll never run out of stuff to learn or weaknesses to work on. I’m not saying this to discourage but to just give the frank reality that it really takes a lifetime to understand. Be patient with yourself and try to set healthy expectations. 

2) Read your own comics after making them.

I don’t know if this is as important to other people as it is to me, but I do think that sometimes its easy to not re-read your own work and just go from your own memory of it, or maybe you’re tired of looking at it because of all the flaws. I don’t personally get sucked into the “rewrite/remake” cycle that I know is common with comics, as I sort of just accept things as they are, but re-reading my work does help me see where I have come from and where I need to go to next. I personally don’t like to lose sight of that, and I think re-reading helps ground me in the planning process of my work and gives me a better perspective on all aspects.

3) A lot of comic advice should be taken with a grain of salt, because its the person talking to themselves. (including this)

I see a lot of advice that never would have worked for me, or just simply wasn’t something I was ever going to follow. “Dont start with your big epic long stories”! Is a common one. I don’t think that’s bad advice exactly, but how many young artists are going to listen, especially if they’ve never told a story in the first place? Yes, the advice to start small and build yourself up with experience sounds great, I’m sure people do it, but if you’re an artist you’re probably not gonna be that responsible. And for me, when i tried to do this with eggshells, my house burnt down and i kinda gave up comics for a while because i lost a lot of work. 

Writing short stories is still something I struggle with, its just not easy for me. I have gotten better at it but i don’t think that makes me less of a comic artist because I haven’t gotten good at that particular format, or that I jump around on my projects. Is it more impressive to have more completed work under your belt, sure. But I also think that.. Idk.. what is the advice actually saying, because with that one it sort of feels (often times) as a warning that you’re setting yourself up for failure/embarrassment by attempting a comic like that. I don’t know how to tell you this, but comics are gonna be embarrassing no matter what you do and there’s no guarantee you’ll be more successful/not experience failure by avoiding your passions. Something to think about anyway. 

4) Don’t draw every leaf. Unless you really want to.

I’m the kind of comic artist that kind of doesn’t care about the art as much as the whole package of the comic. When i see a very impressively drawn panel/page, with laborious detail that is well drawn and maybe even colored ect.. That usually is kind of, I guess, a turn off for me as part of the reading experience. The thing is, when i encounter that, it usually signals to me that someone has poor planning skills for comics. It says to me that comic is probably not going to see its end or that artist is overworking themselves in an unnecessary way, that ends up concerning me about how they’re doing. Because i know how hard it is to draw comics. When an artist phones things in a bit, or has a limit on how much they work on a page, its a relief for me to see! because I understand they have healthier boundaries and expectations, and the art itself usually is less stiff too. This is all an overgeneralization, but I think with a lot of webcomic artists we are usually drawing a comic for the first time ever, so it makes sense we want to do our best and try as hard as possible - that just usually isn’t the smartest plan to put all the stock in the visual department. This also kinda frustrates me to see because most comics (professional or not) will also (generally) not reel the art in ever or make a more simple style. Generally I see it always trying to outdo itself, which leads to burn out. I personally only work about 1hr on each page i draw, that hasn’t changed in the 10 years I have been drawing comics, but i used to spend hundreds of hours drawing detailed lineart for eggshells and it didn’t even read well and i’d be disappointed with the results, feeling more lost with my goals than ever. PLEASe.. Just draw worse, its usually better looking in the end too. (because you wont have the experience to judge visual clarity until you’ve been drawing comics for a while imo..)

5) Don’t draw ahead, draw those inbetweenies.

“Inbetweenies” are the pages for the “boring” ones. They are also usually the most common KIND of page. Its the pages that are necessary, but “inbetween” the action. The impact moments in a scene, ect. You gotta draw them. They’re always gonna be there. They’re the pages where maybe, the character is walking somewhere, thinking, ect. The after impact from an action.. There’s a million examples, but hopefully you’ll understand what I mean when I say they’re both necessary pages/panels, sometimes so mundane/redundant, but also required for telling the story.. As a comic is a sequence of images. This is why, the previous advice is also important IMO- because if you really want to “draw every leaf” - maybe you should save that energy and effort for those impact moments that you want to impress the reader with.. And not for the inbetweenies, which are the foundational support, but also not the most important moments. If you conserve your energy a bit, the contrast OF that effort will also pop more. I personally find it funny when I put more effort into a page and end up tricking my readers into thinking I got better at drawing, when really i just have been able to draw better and only save it for moments like this instead of always.

Also, when I say don’t draw ahead.. I mean I draw each page at a time before going to the next one. I have no idea if this is an unusual practice or not, and I know a lot of people will draw their chapters/episodes/whatever in sections like sketch/ink/color/ect.. But I personally draw and finish page by page, unless its the thumb/sketch stage. Even then, i don’t go ahead much. I think that you can control flow/pacing better by doing chapters all at once of course, I see that as a benefit. But i also think that makes things very overwhelming and can also result in a lack of flexibility if something isn’t working. No matter HOW much planning you do- comics are always going to have an aspect of IMPROVISATION with the result you get in the end. There are way too many factors in play to be in complete control of all of them and always know the result of the reading experience. SO for me, this technique is easier and has been something that continues to get me to working effectively. Plus, rumiko takahashi said that’s what she does. And i think she has some of the best visual flow/compositions in comics. So that’s what I do.

I could write more personal advice or rules that i follow..but I think those are the ones I find are the most important to me anyway. Of course, comics are a strange medium and not everything that works for me will work for you. That’s all for now.. Bye bye…! 

Oh by the way, my comics are here: feastforaking.com nastyreddogs.com https://kosmic.itch.io/ Support me on patreon! https://www.patreon.com/kosmic

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

Happy Sunday, my Darlings! I have a new Feyd-Rautha/Reader chapter up! (18+ Only)

Tags for this chapter: arranged marriage; dubious consent; breeding kink; overstimulation; blood kink; period sex; pain kink; oral sex (m+ and f+ receiving); vaginal sex; Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning; problematic smut; slow emotional burn; Feyd-Rautha having the most insane recovery period; discussions of pregnancy; implied/referenced past abuse; implied/referenced self-harm

Tags and notes for this story overall and full chapter below the cut. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged when I update!

CW for the entire fic: arranged marriage; forced marriage; forced pregnancy; dubious consent; implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced sexual abuse; implied/referenced incest; sadomasochism; pain kink; rough sex; problematic smut; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; oral sex; blood kink; breeding kink; orgasm denial; eventual switching

Just as a note: this fic was going to be a lot shorter and completely plotless but that was 40k words ago and there's no end in sight, so I'm going to make some minor edits and rewrites to earlier chapters, but this story will end up factoring into the greater plot of the story.

Chapter Five: Playin' with Fire Burns a Little Bit

He keeps his word.  It’s still somewhat dark outside when you wake to a hard cock against your backside and an arm wrapped around you, and you remember where you are and what happened.

Your ass doesn’t sting as much as it did last night; the more pressing matter is that Feyd-Rautha’s cock is slotted against the small of your back, just over the slope of your backside, and his arm that’s been looped around your ribcage is moving.  His palm presses against your stomach.  You give a soft grunt as you shift in his grasp and he raises himself up on his opposite elbow to get a good look at your face and your now-opened eyes.

“You’re awake,” he notes, voice even rougher first thing in the morning, and with that information decides to slide his hand from your ribcage to your crotch.  

“You really meant it when you said first thing ,” you say, still drowsy, voice still laced with sleep.

“I have a busy schedule,” he says, rubbing down and sliding his fingertips along your slit before giving a quiet hmm as if to say, ‘ Not quite wet enough yet.  Unfortunate .’  So he keeps circling your bud, nuzzling against your neck and jaw as you start to warm up, your breaths getting shorter.

When he wrings your first gasp out of you, he brings his fingertips back to your slit and gets the affirmation he wants that he’s getting you wet, enough that he can commence with his actual plans for you. In any case, you’re wide awake now.

You remind yourself that this isn’t the most depraved thing you’ve heard of on Geidi Prime.  You don’t have to remind yourself that even as off-putting a concept it is, it felt great last night.

He turns you on your back and wastes no further time bringing his head between your legs.  He takes just a moment to smell the blood between your thighs before he’s alternating between licking over you, wriggling his tongue inside of you, and suckling at your bud.

This time your hands are free to explore, to press against the back of his neck and scratch along his shoulders and biceps, to cup your own breasts to add to the stimulation until he covers them with his own.

He’s good at this , you realize, head falling back against the covers, hips arching up, and you have no frame of reference, no comparison for this, so it’s just a feeling.  You’re pretty sure he likes this, likes the way you taste perhaps in part because of the blood coming out of you, and you’re willing to set aside how morbid that is if he keeps this up.  You pant and moan, unconsciously grinding against his mouth and he lets you, lets you grip the back of his head as your breath comes in harsh and your entire body flushes hot.  You couldn’t form a coherent sentence if your life depended on it.

Your whimpers turn into a warning, one that he ignores as he keeps going, pulling back only to spit on his thumb and bring it to your bud as he presses his tongue back inside of you.  He doesn’t let up, either, when you shake and come, trembling against his mouth.  If anything it spurs him on, giving you too much. 

You wish he had hair so you could tug on it to pull him away and give you a moment to cool down.  You’ve never just kept on going after coming and it’s too much, it’s too intense.  And that, apparently, is the idea because he keeps your hips pulled to him, his face still buried in between your legs.  You groan, frustrated, knocking your head back against your pillow as your hips clench and you give another spasm.

He rocks his hips against the bed, devolving into grunts and moans against your sensitive skin, like this might be what sends him over the edge, too.  Not that you realize it yet but he actually could.  If he chose to, he could let the friction between his cock and the sheets below him get him there.  But that would be a waste of his seed that he’s bent on spilling inside of you.

So after a minute he pulls away so he can sit up and flip you onto your stomach, pulls you up by your hips, and takes a moment to look at the remnants of the damage he did last night.  It must be still sufficiently red and look as tender as it feels because he wastes no time squeezing the cheeks of your ass, probably smirking at your responding pained whine.

He chose this position on purpose, you realize.  You’re still sore from last night, and you’ll feel the sting of his hips slapping against your ass, especially at the punishing pace he often sets.  Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he quickly, wordlessly, assures you this morning’s no different.

When he makes a ponytail out of your hair and tugs, spurred on by the noises you’re making, you wonder about the collars in the armoire.  Are those because women on Geidi Prime don’t have hair to pull? Or will he use those collars on you, too?

He starts talking; a little unusual for him, since he doesn’t normally talk while he’s inside of you, but the words spill out of his chest in his gravely timbre. You just have no idea what he’s saying, it’s all guttural Harkonnen battle language that you haven’t learned yet.

You barely manage to hold your upper body upright, and you’re sure that’s mostly because of Feyd-Rautha’s grip on your hair.  He stops talking altogether and his speech devolves back into grunts and growls with each snap of his hips that almost drown out your moans and whimpers.

And then it’s done, he comes, one hand clutching your hip and the other still buried in your hair.  For a few moments he stays there, still holding you onto him as he begins to soften, then he moves his hand from your hair to your stomach, coaxing you up until your back aligns with his chest.  He breathes in, shifting his hand upwards until it curls loosely around your neck, which you turn in alarm to try and face him.  Your blood is quickly drying, tacky and dark, on his mouth as he tilts his head and presses those blood-stained lips to yours.  He only gives your neck the lightest of squeezes, a reminder of what he’s capable of but not a real threat, before moving his hand to your breast, palming it roughly.  He keeps at it, kissing and fondling every exposed part of you he can reach until he gets hard again and you gasp at the feel of it, him filling out and stiffening inside of you once more.

Is this…normal?  It can’t be, right?  You’d probably have heard about it if it was.

He’s not a normal man , you have to remind yourself.

He took you in this position a couple of nights ago, when he had you brace your hands against the headboard as he fucked you, but right now the headboard’s too far away and so you rely on him holding you onto him, one of your hands reaching behind you to grab his hip as the other rubs down against your bud, your cries high and reedy as your fingers brush so close to where he’s pistoning in and out of you.  His grunts and growls against your ear grow ragged; you half-expect him to snap his jaws and sink his teeth into your neck for the animalistic way he fucks you, like being inside of you makes him an even baser and more primitive creature.  It makes you rub harder, feeling helpless to do anything else.

He lets you come this time.

For a full minute afterwards, he holds you to him, his breath going from panting back to normal, his pulse slowing back down, before he wordlessly tilts your hips forward and coaxes you on to your front before pulling out of you.  You shut your eyes for a moment, hearing the telltale sounds of him padding over to the bathroom and take a moment to readjust yourself, shifting to lie on your side, waiting for him to come out.

When he does, his face and cock have been cleaned off and he heads for the dresser, and you’re about to get up to use the bathroom for yourself when he starts talking.

“I’ll grab you again in three hours for breakfast,” he says as he reaches into his drawers for clothes to train in.  “When you didn’t show up yesterday my uncle was concerned that I may have been too much for you and wanted to verify that you’re still in one piece.”

“Was he really?” you ask.  The best opinion the Baron seems to have of you is one of polite indifference; an adequate broodmare for the Harkonnen line.

“Harkonnen men can get overzealous,” he says.  “He wants to make sure that I’m taking care of my new bride.”

That’s one way to put it , you think, shifting again to sit on the edge of the bed.  It’s an effort, and even though the sheets are soft you can’t help but wince at the feeling of them against your well-used backside.

“Fine.  I might get an hour or two of sleep before then.”  You could certainly use it; your husband has certainly proved his stamina and energy in bed.  

He glances over at you as he reaches for a training shirt.  “I’m going to have a door installed connecting your quarters to mine.  It’ll make it easier for us to meet at night,” he says, as if it wasn’t already easy.  “Save us the trouble of having to get dressed before and afterwards.”

You could almost laugh.  It would figure that’s his reasoning.

“Alright, I’ll be up in just a second.”

You’re a little surprised he’s not openly smug about how he wears you out.  You’d almost expect him to joke about how hard it is to keep up with him, but he must realize he doesn’t have to.  The way your legs shake a little as you walk over to your discarded clothing, the way you wince as you bend over to pick them up, speak for themselves.  He does watch you, though, the rest of his clothes momentarily forgotten, as if trying to commit the sight of you to memory before you leave.

**********

You manage to get another hour’s sleep in which you quickly realize that sleeping on your back is out of the question for now.

Idrisa comes in shortly after you wake up to bring you water and coffee and prepare a bath for you.  You’re so grateful for it that you could cry, hissing as the water hits your backside.  

Idrisa peers in, concerned.  “Everything alright, Na-Baroness?” she asks.  

You look over at her.  “Would you be so kind as to get me a glass of water and one of those menstrual pain tablets?” you ask.

**********

You finish getting ready just in time for the Na-Baron to greet you in what you’ve gathered is his typical politician’s attire; black, clearly high-end and well-tailored material to show off his form.  Too formal to train in but fitted for ease of movement.  He has a holster on his thigh that holds a knife in its scabbard.

He gives you his arm for you to take; it’s almost whiplash how he oscillates between fucking you like a beast and having you on his arm like a courtly gentleman, but you accept and stroll down the hall together in silence for a moment.

He looks ahead as he says, “It’s going to be uncomfortable for you to sit down for a couple of days.”

“I figured that out earlier, but thank you,” you say.  

“He’s going to notice and he’s going to bait you.  Don’t acknowledge it.  Getting flustered will just add fuel to the fire,” he adds.

“ You like seeing my discomfort,” you tell him.

His jaw tightens.  He opens his mouth enough to run his tongue–strangely pink despite everything else being black–over his teeth before he clicks his tongue against them.  “I like it for my own amusement, not his,” he says.  

You reach the Dining Hall, with a spread being set out.  It’s already too much food for three people, but with the Baron it’s unlikely that it’ll go to waste.

You stop and curtsy as Feyd-Rautha pulls your chair out for you.

“Good morning, Baron,” you say, face downcast, waiting for him to give you a nod before you sit down.

Feyd wasn’t lying, sitting in a chair’s even worse than sitting on a bed.  You try not to shift around to get more comfortable; you just know that they’re going to notice. 

“I suppose you’re still adjusting to Geidi Prime and married life?” the Baron asks you.   You know he really means, Still adjusting to getting railed by my nephew, eh?  Can’t say I’m surprised; I’ve heard that he’s hung like a donkey.  

“Yes, Baron.  It is getting easier, though.  Everyone’s been accommodating,” you tell him as you take a sip of juice and avoid looking directly at him.  He can probably sense your dislike despite your best efforts to be polite and deferential.  He probably doesn’t care.  He probably likes that you have to simper and fawn over how gracious he is when you wish you never had to speak to him.

“The relaxation chambers are still at your disposal, if you’ve changed your mind,” he says.

“Thank you, Baron, that’s an excellent idea.”  And it is, much as you hate to admit it.  All that worries you is the idea of anyone but you, Feyd, and Idrisa knowing that there’s no way that you’re pregnant yet.  You’ll have to investigate first and see how bad the risk is of exposure.  If word got back to the Baron…you’re certain he would be less thrilled than his nephew.

Conversation quickly turns to Arrakis. Since regaining it from the house of Atreides Rabban apparently has been struggling to overpower Fremen rebels.  You’re a little taken aback that they’d be willing to discuss this in front of you and realize that it’s because you have no one to talk to about this anyways.  The Atreides have been all but exterminated, not that you really knew any of them in the first place.  Even Father was shocked to see how swiftly they met their end when it happened.

The Fremen, it turns out, are another story.  It’s not a surprise that they can match the Harkonnens in brutality; they’re the only ones who inhabit a planet just as hostile and unforgiving as Geidi Prime and they’ve found ways to adapt to Arrakis that the Harkonnens haven’t needed to before.

“We’re going to need to train our men harder,” Feyd-Rautha says.  “We’ve allowed ourselves to get complacent when we can’t afford to.  The Sardaukar army helped us win back Arrakis; we need to hold ourselves to their standards.  Until then, Rabban needs to stop trying to ply his ego with direct combat and use aerial strikes instead.”

The Baron looks up from his food and sits back for a moment, considering his nephew’s words with a small smile.  See, this is why you’re my successor and not him, he seems to think, even when their conversation leads elsewhere.  It’s the look of a man who’s playing a game he has yet to reveal, and it sticks with you for the remainder of breakfast.

What else does he have planned for his nephew?

******

Feyd-Rautha walks with you out of the Dining Hall, still playing the courtly married man, taking your hand on his arm as you pass slaves and soldiers alike who lower their heads in deference.  It’s going to take some getting used to.  He apparently has a meeting to attend, though, as he escorts you back to your quarters.

“I’ll see you this evening,” he says, with no need for innuendo.

And so it continues for a few days.  At night he takes you into his own bedchambers, tastes you until you nearly weep from the overstimulation, fucks you until you’re sore and shaking, sleeps with you, and wakes you up early the next morning to do it all again before he leaves to train.  You save your energy during the day by staying more sedentary than you’re used to, remaining in the library or your quarters and listening to recorded lessons of basic Harkonnen words and phrases.  Your pronunciation when you try to mimic the guttural tones is laughable, but you put in an effort.  You’ll save the relaxation chambers for when you start training.

The fourth night, before he buries his face between your legs, he has you do the same to him; has you kneel as he sits on the edge of the bed and pushes his cock into the confines of your mouth.

“ You’ll learn to take everything, ” he tells you, one hand buried in your hair as he pushes you down farther than you’ve managed before, until tears spill out of the corners of your eyes and the noises your mouth makes around him sound utterly obscene.  He lets you brace your hands on his legs and it’s between then and when he pulls you off of him to bring you up into bed that you notice something.  The scars on his inner thigh have an uneven mirror; there are scars on his other thigh, as well, along an invisible inseam, but they don’t match.  Those other scars look shorter and like they run deeper.  It’s yet another question you’re sure you won’t get to ask anytime soon.  Before he devours you, though, he cups your chin in his hand and looks over your tear-stained cheeks and lips puffy from sucking his cock with unrestrained lust.  

“What is it about me like this, husband?” you ask, after it’s done and he’s come inside of you.  You’re both naked, sprawled, and spent in his bed.  The blood’s been lighter and lighter and soon you imagine these visits will go back to just the evenings.  “Do you only like tasting women when we’re like this?”

He looks over at you and draws one arm behind his head.  “Not only then,” he says.  “But I like enjoying something other men are too weak to even attempt.”

You wait for him to continue his explanation, but he doesn’t.  You’ve been continuously worn out and sore since your wedding night, but there’s something pleasant in your ache. Perhaps it’s just your body getting used to being thoroughly debauched on a regular basis for the first time in your life, but there’s also a part of you that’s starting to enjoy it.   

“It’s time,” he adds.  “To start training you.  It can’t last long so it will have to be comprehensive.”  

“I already have training,” you tell him.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says.  “Tomorrow morning.”

You consider this.  “Fine.  Do I sleep here tonight or in my room?”

He gives it a moment’s thought.  “Yours.”

You’ve been sleeping with him the past four nights; you suppose it had to end eventually.  You’re surprised at how easy it was to fall asleep next to him even with the early mornings.

“Now?” you ask, trying to keep the conversation as business-like as possible.  It’s just easier that way; to shut off any impression that you want intimacy from him that he simply can’t provide.  You’re pretty sure it’s impossible for him.

He looks over at you, considering.  “In a few minutes,” he decides.  “I’m not sure if I want to go again tonight or not.”

As it turns out, he doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop him from glancing over at you a few times, his eyes-half-lidded as his gaze goes up and down the length of your body.  When you meet his gaze he looks back at you as if to say, What?  Am I not allowed to look at my own wife?

He finally tells you what hour he wants you up.  “Get a good night’s rest,” he adds.  “You’ll need it.”

He sits up to watch you as you rise from bed, padding naked over to his dresser.  He stares unapologetically at your form as you get dressed and leave for your quarters.  Construction for the door connecting your bathroom to his is almost complete, and soon you won’t need to leave your quarters to meet him in his.

********

Idrisa wakes you up early.

“My apologies, my Lady, but the Na-Baron wants you to meet him in the Training Halls before breakfast,” she says, holding a pair of flat boots and a couple of other garments in her arms.  “He has this for you to wear,” she adds, setting the boots on the floor and everything else on the dresser.  “Your coffee is on the desk.  He’s given you half an hour to get ready and wants you to bring your dagger.”

You blink, trying to take in what she’s saying before rubbing the heel of your palm against your eyelid.  Right.  The training.

“Would you like any assistance, or would you like me to wait by the door?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you say, wondering for a moment if Feyd-Rautha was preparing you to get up this early for the past few days knowing that you’d be training with him.

Probably not.  I think he just wanted to fuck in the mornings too .

You sip your coffee before plaiting your hair and taking a look at the clothes your new husband wants you to wear.

It's a practical training outfit; you're pretty sure that Geidi Prime doesn't make training clothes for women, and that he had this commissioned for you given that it fits better, especially in the hips, than you expected.  Women on Geidi Prime don’t serve in combat, much like your own planet and if there’s any formal training for women you haven’t heard about it yet.

You manage to make it to the Training Halls in time but still not feeling fully awake.

Feyd-Rautha senses you from the moment you enter, even at the farthest end of the room.  It occurs to you that you haven’t seen him in something as innocuous as training gear yet; simple trousers and boots, a fitted but breathable black shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders, a holster strapped to his thigh.  If it weren’t for his bearing he could almost blend into his surroundings.

“Good morning, Na-Baron,” you tell him with a polite incline of your head, figuring that his most formal title would be best to address him in front of the very men he’s meant to lead.  You imagine that you make an unusual match for him as it is given how unambiguously foreign you are.

“Good, you’re here,” he says.  His tone is casual, light; in front of his men, you may as well be an acquaintance.  “We have a lot to cover, but today my main agenda today is to see your skill level as it is now.  When we first met you said you were out of practice.  How long has it been since you’ve sparred?”

You try to think.  “It’s been about eight months since I’ve done anything,” you admit.  

“And when did you start?” he asks.

“Age fifteen,” you tell him.

“And how often would you train?” he asks.

“About an hour, two or three times a week,” you tell him.

He looks both unsurprised and unimpressed with this new information.  Instead he takes a small, black device from the waistband of his pants and holds it up.  “Have you used one of these before?”  You immediately recognize it as a shield activator.

“I have, Na-Baron,” you tell him.  “During fighting lessons.”        

“Good.  You’ll be using one for all of our sessions, just in case.” He hands it over to you to clip onto your own waistband before he signals to another man who’s slight of build and several inches shorter than him.  The man strides over to you and lowers his head in deference.

“Na-Baroness,” he says.

“This is Korvo,” Feyd-Rautha says.  “He’ll make a suitable opponent,” he says, looking you both over as if to confirm that the two of you are in a similar enough weight class.  “Which are you more familiar with?  Knife or dagger?”

“I would say the dagger,” you tell him.  

“Then I’ll start you off with the knife,” he says.  “Start with mid-range fighting and work from there.”

“Alright,” you say, looking over at Korvo, who finally raises his head to look you in the eye.  They’re dark brown; there’s a scar along where one of his eyebrows would be.  His expression is entirely neutral; if he has a single opinion about you, you’d have no idea.  It’s been a week since the wedding and you still don’t know how any of Harkonnen's subjects feel about you.

Feyd-Rautha pulls a knife from one of many lining the walls and hands it over.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the handle.  He releases it immediately, watching you adjust it in your hand.

“How’s the grip?” he prompts.

“Fine, thank you,” you tell him, glancing over at him before he steps back to a safe distance, and turning your attention back to your opponent as you turn on your shields and settle into position.  Korvo does the same, staying still until you both hear Feyd-Rautha’s voice give the simple command, “ Go. ”

You circle each other, and you try to remember your footwork, trying not to cross one leg in front of the other, keeping your stance guarded.

Korvo waits, letting you get nervous as you keep expecting him to make the first move.  He makes no offense until you finally think, Oh, get on with it, and lunge first.

For a minute Korvo seems to let you get reacquainted with the practice; one of you strikes, the other blocks, still circling each other.  You remember to play to your strengths, which you’ve been told is your form and your flexibility.

So far so good, you think as you block a blow to your shoulder.  Then he sweeps his leg, nearly tripping you, and you realize that you haven’t been paying enough attention to his footwork, too preoccupied with his upper body.  You startle and recover, regaining your balance just in time for him to swipe, and he’s closer than you realized.  When did he get this close?

Too fast! you think, gasping as you try to lean back, as Korvo’s knife swipes just under your breasts, your ribcage protected only by your shield that reverberates with the resistance so hard that your teeth chatter.

“One,” Feyd-Rautha says.  He sounds like he’s moving to get a better view as you and Korvo progress.  You try to tune him out, inhaling sharply, before finding an opening at your opponent’s left side and lunging.

You’re proud of yourself for about two seconds in which your knife meets Korvo’s shield, even as the humming of it reverberates in your bones.  Korvo counters with a knock of his forearm against yours with a force that knocks you off balance again before you realize that he’d been holding back.  There’s a mechanical coldness in his eyes as he moves.  You can only counter and have no time to lunge or attack, just trying to keep up with the barrage of swipes as he gains on you, forcing you back, before he lunges.

You stumble and trip, falling flat on your ass and in the blink of an eye Korvo’s on top of you, his blade at your heart, and you scream.

Were it not for your shield you’d be dead , you think as you stare, panting and wide-eyed up at the man who’s far more lethal than his appearance would suggest.

He immediately withdraws the knife.  “Na-Baroness,” he says, tone apologetic, as he offers you a hand to guide you up.  You’re just glad you fell on the flesh of your backside and not your tailbone.  You hadn’t realized it was happening, too caught up in your work with Korvo, but people are watching you.

Of course people are watching; you’re new, you’re unfamiliar, and you’re the future Baroness.  You sense their gazes on you but you ignore the embarrassed flush and turn to look over at Feyd-Rautha.  It’s been a while since you’ve practiced this, and longer still since you felt so out of your depth.  

He considers you, head tilted, arms crossed, as he looks between you and Korvo.  Finally he speaks, stepping in closer to you both.  “Alright, you have some decent baseline form and technique but you still need to reacquaint yourself, especially with speed and footwork.  Korvo will continue to train you.

“Speaking of which,” he turns and immediately punches the man hard in the stomach and as the man drops, raises a knee to spike him in the jaw.  You recoil at the sickening crunch.

“For scaring my wife,” he explains to the man now crumpled on the floor.

“ Was that necessary? ” you demand, voice cracking.

“He’ll be fine,” Feyd says.  “We have Healers for anything broken, and I can help you with the rest of our session today.  I’ll test out your skills with that cute little letter-opener you keep hidden in your boot.”  He grabs another shield activator from a nearby table and clips it on.  

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Korvo slowly getting up and spitting a small wad of blood onto the floor before shuffling to his feet.  An attendant quickly comes to his aid and escorts him from the Halls.  You look down, not wanting to see whatever Feyd-Rautha may have done to his mouth or jaw.

“Now I’m going to want to get an idea of where you stand with the dagger,” Feyd-Rautha says, getting your attention again, holding out his hand for you to hand over the knife, which, once he has back, he hands over to another attendant to set amongst the others.

“Let’s see it,” he says when he turns, nodding at your boot.

You haven’t pulled it out of its holster since your last lesson eight months ago.  You’ve been carrying it around with you more as a good-luck charm rather than a weapon since then.  You pull up your pant-leg to unclip it and draw it out.  It’s a very pretty blade, if you do say so yourself.  The handle was made with a woman’s sensibilities in mind.  Feyd-Rautha waits for you to unclip it from its holster and tilts his head when he sees it.

“Ornamental,” he says.

“Still functional,” you tell him as you hand it over and watch him twirl it in his hand and examine the blade.  It was designed specifically for you, so it’s almost baffling how deftly his larger fingers twirl it with such ease.  He looks at it as if it shares deeply guarded secrets about you before looking back at you.

"The dagger's close range," he says, as if you didn't already know.  “What were you taught about evasion and disarming techniques?” 

“In the event of an ambush, don't rely on brute strength, don't hesitate, and don't bother trying to fight honorably.  It’s not a duel; they're not looking for a fair fight, either.”

“Good.  Let’s start with disarming techniques,” he says.  “In case you’re caught unarmed or unable to reach your weapon.”

The first exercise is easier; it’s one of the first things you’ve ever learned, the way to grab his wrist and pinch the flesh of his palm.  This is familiar, and you ease back into the confidence you’d had earlier.  After a few goes of it, Feyd-Rautha watching your form, decides to move on–you have no doubt that he’ll come back to this, go faster, go meaner.  This all seems to be a diagnostic, something he can use to gauge your potential.

“Alright, you get the concept,” he says.  “Let’s move on to disarming an opponent who’s behind you.”

Fine .  You assume nothing will phase you quite as much as sparring with Korvo earlier as you get back into a neutral stance, waiting for the tell-tale signs of moving feet, but instead you feel the long, chiseled lines of your husband’s chest and stomach against your back, his free arm wrapped around your ribcage, and your own dagger at your neck.  Or rather, you feel the hum of both of your shields vibrate at the contact.

Oh.   This kind of close range .  You inhale sharply.  You don’t need to see Feyd-Rautha’s face to see the unrestrained delight in his eyes.

“Nervous?” he asks.

Exposed .  Your pulse quickens.  He hasn’t done anything, he’s fully dressed.  His hand is on your ribcage, not your breasts or between your legs, but you feel like the two of you shouldn’t be doing this with other people around.  They have their own training to get through, of course, but they’re noticing.  Even as they keep their heads down and try not to stare, they’re paying attention.  They’re probably wondering how you take the Na-Baron's cock inside of you each night. 

The vibration of his shield merging with yours doesn’t help.

You take a breath and twist in his arms before he tightens his hold.

“Sloppy work,” he says.

You would argue in your defense that your previous instructors for this weren’t men who’ve been inside of you or licked your pussy until you screamed from the nerve-shattering pleasure of it.  It’s more distracting this way.

He starts the position again, his front against your back as he presses the dagger just up against your shield, the hum of it so close to your throat it gives off an almost-purring sound.

Do you like being pressed up against me? you want to ask.

He answers before you get the chance.  “I changed my mind.  I’ll instruct your close range fighting personally.” 

You could laugh, but instead you simply reach behind you, grabbing his crotch and twisting hard–with the shield it won’t hurt him in the slightest, but you were told it was one of the most effective ways to disarm a male opponent.

He snorts and presses the tip of your dagger further against your neck.  “Should’ve known you’d go there, pet,” he murmurs in your ear.  “It’s not always a reliable technique.”

He’s aroused.  You can feel the outline of his cock straining against his trousers as it presses against you.

“Try again,” he says.

*********

Two hours later you’re worn out and beset with what you’re sure will become bruises.  So, all in all a very typical two hours with your groom.

You part ways so you can each shower, change, and reconvene for breakfast.

“Unless you’re actually sick or he’s elsewhere, my uncle wants you to attend breakfast and dinner with him as a sign of respect,” Feyd-Rautha tells you.  “But you’re free to do as you wish and go where you like during the day.”

That freedom would sound more appealing if you enjoyed going outside, but you still get short of breath easily every time you go out under that black sun, so that means more research, more time listening to language recordings, and more time re-learning everything you forgot plus everything you hadn’t realized you didn’t learn about self-defense.

But today you end up re-reading from books you brought from your old home and writing letters to each of your family members.  You write to them about learning basic battle language, about how your husband has recently taken the liberty of teaching you what he knows about self-defense to build on what you’ve already learned.  You ask them about the weather, about your friends, about how their lives have changed since you last saw them.  It feels far longer than a week.  You ask about the stars, about the natural light displays.  Your planet has a beautiful night sky.  You have to keep reminding yourself that you’ll see it again one day, even if it’s not as soon as you’d like.

Feyd-Rautha’s as polite and restrained towards you at dinner as he always is in his uncle’s presence.  During your meals together he seems detached, almost indifferent to you when you’re pretty sure he’s not.  He doesn’t show an ounce of warmth but always pulls your chair out for you and waits until you’re seated to sit down himself. 

You find that you prefer it; you don’t want the Baron to get so much of a glimpse of the carnality of your marriage and the way his nephew takes you apart with enthusiasm that’s almost frightening.  

The only indication that Feyd gives of his interest in you is when you’re both leaving the Dining Hall and he stops to mutter in your ear, “Tonight I’ll come to your chambers instead.”

You think about how he’d gotten hard during practice.  When you’re getting ready for the night’s rendezvous you wonder if he took care of it himself in the bathroom later that morning or if he decided to hold off until he could unleash his pent-up lust on you.

You get your answer when you’re in only your robe.

“Your husband, the Na-Baron,” Idrisa says, eyes downcast, as she opens the door for him.  He’s barefoot, in just a pair of trousers he quickly undoes, and it’s clear both that he’s already hard and that he’s wearing nothing underneath.  Your eyes widen.  

Idrisa’s still in the room! you want to snap at him.  She doesn’t want to see you like this!

Instead you watch as he steps out of his trousers and hands them off to Idrisa without a word or a look back at her.  She inclines her head, accepts the garment, and turns to neatly fold it and place it on top of the dresser.

“Thank you, Idrisa, you are relieved,” you tell her, and she inclines her head and leaves after a soft, ‘ Thank you, Na-Baroness .’  You drop your robe, standing beside the bed as he comes closer.  You look at each other for a moment.  He raises his browline at your wide eyes.

“Is this another test?” you ask finally.

“Just something new,” he says.  He glances towards the bed and back at you.  Go on, get in , he seems to say.

You keep your eyes on him as you slide into bed, sitting up with your hands braced behind you as you wait for him to follow, unsure what position he’ll want you in.

As it turns out, you’re exactly where he wants you.  You feel the dip of the mattress as he gets in, planting one knee in between your legs, then the other, before descending upon you.  He leans in and you lean back, letting your head hit the pillows as he braces himself above you and latches his mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking what you’re sure will be little pink and red marks that his men will notice tomorrow when you train.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for hours,” he says.  “I was nearly about to fuck you in the Training Halls during our session.”

“There were other people there,” you tell him.

“I could’ve told them to leave,” he says, in a tone that suggests he wouldn’t have cared either way.  “Next time I might.  And then I’ll pull down your pants and claim you on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to give you a rebuttal before he kisses you fiercely and you can’t help but respond in kind, as spent as you feel.  

You cry out, back arching at the first full thrust of him inside of you, and he smiles.

Oh yeah , he seems to think.  I’d make sure everyone can hear the noises I draw out of you .  He braces one arm beside your head, holds your hip with his free hand as he normally does at first when he’s taking you in this position.  He watches your face, your breasts and the movement of them as he rocks into you, his mouth open as he slides his hand from his hip to the small of your back.  And then he sits up on his haunches, taking you with him.  You gasp, a high-pitched moan spilling out of you at the change of angles.  You scramble to get your knees under you in time as he continues thrusting upwards, one arm around your back and his other hand still clutching your hip.

“Ah!” you manage, sliding down onto him.  It’s the most leverage you’ve gotten with him, making you gasp and whine as you hold onto him; it’s the most he’s really let you move and it comes instinctively.  He lets you take over the rhythm that he started as you roll your hips on top of him and clutch at his back.  

In a sense it feels almost like you’re the one fucking him, him rocking up to meet your movements and his hands on your hips encouraging you.  The heat grows faster this way, with the angle and the friction and the way he eases up and follows your pace, his harsh breath against your ear as you keep thinking about how you want to kiss him but your gasps and moans against the open air are too much for you to collect yourself enough for that.  The desperate noises that he pulls out of you, that you pull out of yourself, spill from you without thought, louder than his own grunts and growls.  You just keep moving, faster and harder, your nipples stiff and your entire body flushed as your body chases after your release.

I’m close.  I’m so close , you want to tell him if only you could speak.  Instead you find a spot at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and lean down to bite down as you keep grinding down on him.  That’s the moment that does it for him, and you gasp, rocking down onto him one last time as he comes within you.  Your hips jerk and stutter as you feel him painting your insides and remove your mouth from his neck with a sloppy lick and try to find your bearings.  You’re still on top of him, he’s still inside of you, you’re both panting and you wonder if he feels as close to delirious as you do.  You’re still hot, still pulsing, and give a closed-mouth whine as you squirm on top of him.  C’mon, please , you want to tell him.  I was almost there .

He presses his forehead against yours, panting against your mouth, before with a snarl he grabs your hips to hold you still and brings his thumb down to where you’re joined.  It takes only a few passes, especially when he brings his mouth just under your ear.

You come around him, shutting your eyes around the intensity and digging your nails into his shoulders; you’re starting to grow them longer for this very purpose.

He holds onto you, his forehead resting against your shoulder.  He stays inside of you as he wraps one arm around your back, uses his free hand to clutch your hip as you readjust for the second time and he lowers you back down on the bed. 

You assume that once you hit the mattress again that he’ll pull out and pull away but he doesn’t; he pulls his hand out from under you but otherwise stays where he is, buried inside of you and draping over you to rest his head against your sweat-damp collarbone.  It’s like he’s sinking into you, laying on you, still inside of you even as he’s going soft.  It feels oddly nice.  Like he’s finding a home within you.  As if the two of you are actually coupled by choice rather than mandate.  Even the weight of him on top of you feels somehow reassuring.

You absently stroke his back and wonder what he’d look like with hair.  What color would it be?  What texture?  He has long eyelashes, but there’s little else to go off of.

“Is my hair going to fall out?” you wonder aloud after a moment.  It’s a reasonable question to have; none of your body hair has grown in again, not even a hint of stubble.  

Feyd-Rautha pauses and raises himself up on one forearm to look at you properly, perhaps trying to figure out if there’s an implied insult in your question.  

“I just wonder how all of that works here,” you tell him. 

“You can’t lose something that never grows in the first place,” he says.  “People born on Geidi Prime never grow any as long as they’re living here.”

You frown as you run your fingertips along the back of his head.  “But you weren’t born on Geidi Prime, either.  I looked it up; you were born on Lankiveil.” 

“When I came here I was ordered to have everything shaved off,” he says.  “None of it ever grew back.”

You consider this, enjoying the tenderness he’s letting you show him for now.  “Is that why you have eyelashes?” you ask, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone.  There’s the faint memory of freckles on his cheeks; it makes you wonder what his pigment would be on a planet with a proper sun.

“Yes.  He didn’t think removing them was necessary,” he says, not needing to specify who ‘he’ is, and his tone is clear: I don’t want to talk about my uncle while I’m still inside of you .

Fair enough.  He sinks back down, content to forget the entire conversation, and you drop it, but because this is the first time since you’ve met that you truly feel comfortable with him, you keep talking.

“What was it like on Lankiveil?” you ask him.

He gives an irritated huff.  “Why,” he says.

“Just curious,” you say.  “The climate sounds a lot like my planet.  I grew up surrounded by water, too.”

He sighs, his chest expanding.  “Then there’s not much to tell you, now is there,” he says again, voice flat.  After a moment, “Even if you were blind and deaf you could smell that you were on an ocean planet just from the salty air.  It was cold, damp, dark.”

“ Hmmm .”  There are so many questions you want to ask.  Did you like it, though? What did you like about it?  Have you ever missed it?  Were you happy back then?  Did you love the family you’ve lost?  Have you ever tried going back?  You won’t ask them, not anytime soon and potentially not ever.  “It’s not a smell you ever think you’ll miss,” you say instead, both hands absently stroking his back and shoulders in no particular pattern.

“Didn’t say I missed it,” Feyd says immediately.

“I do, though.”   You already miss the sounds of the ocean crashing against the rocks and stormy sunsets over the rolling tide.  Geidi Prime has nothing.  It’s a wasteland devoid of life, devoid of seasons.  You try not to think about that, and instead the new information Feyd-Rautha’s given you.

Your children will be hairless .  You’d implicitly assumed, but it paints a more vivid picture of what to expect.

“You miss home already?” he asks.

Of course I do.  Geidi Prime's atmosphere is overwhelming and you're far away from your family.  Idrisa’s the only friend you've made and she's obligated to spend time with you.  Of course I'd rather be home than here.

But you're not about to tell him that right now, not while you’re the closest thing to content that you’ve felt since you landed.  “It’s just what I’m familiar with,” you tell him.  “I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

He finally slides out of you as he raises his head again, and you can’t place his expression, but you’re struck with a thought as you bring one hand to his face.

I really want to kiss you right now.

You almost do, and maybe he can see it in your face.  You’re not sure how you’re looking at him but he blinks, looking at first your eyes and then your lips, and before you can lean up he gets up, slides out of bed, and pads over to your bathroom.  You turn to your side to watch him go, to see his shoulders taper down to a narrow waist, the slope of his ass, and those long legs and how even when soft his cock hangs between them.  Tomorrow construction will be complete and your quarters will be connected to his.

Given his abrupt departure to the bathroom, when he returns you expect him to pull on his trousers and leave, but instead he slides back into bed alongside you without a word.

He settles for a moment, turning to face you.  He seems thoughtful for a moment.

“Even with the protections you have, it would reflect poorly on me and the Fortress if we had you training while you’re showing, if you’re not pregnant already,” he says.

“I’m no Bene Gesserit,” you tell him.  “I can’t tell if I’m pregnant yet, can’t control or predict the sex of the baby–”

“I wouldn’t want a Bene Gesserit wife,” he says.  “I can barely tolerate them as is.  That’s not the point.  We train you as well as we can for the limited time you have.

“But while we're talking about the Bene Gesserit, they will be visiting in three weeks for my birthday.  They'll be able to sniff out right away if you're pregnant or not.”

“Given the rate that we’ve been going, that won’t be an issue,” you tell him.

He looks down at your stomach, as if picturing how soon it’s going to swell with his progeny.  “Training to be a warrior starts early,” he says.  “I was seven when I began and that was later than normal, so I had to work harder than the others to make up for lost time.

“This is not an easy planet to grow up on, so the training is necessary.  Especially with Arrakis.  We’ve been in conflict for decades and it’s only gotten more severe.”

“Spice production isn’t your only means of industry,” you tell him.  What Geidi Prime lacks in vegetation it makes up for in fuel and minerals that get heavily mined.

“Maybe not, but it’s our most lucrative, and until we find a different planet with as much spice as Arrakis, we won’t end our occupation there.  In any case, we need to remind the Fremen of our might.  I want to build my troops to be the most powerful in the universe.  That’s what our children are meant to inherit.  That’s what I want to lead and for our son to take over after I’m gone.”

After I’m gone .  

 Within ten minutes he takes you again, against your headboard as he holds you up, hands under your ass and your legs wrapped around his hips.  He mounts you like you’re an animal he killed for sport and hung up on his wall as he murmurs something in Harkonnen battle language against your neck and all you can make out are my woman and something about his semen.  He controls the pace this time, fucking you up the length of the headboard as you hold onto him, moaning and panting.

Afterwards you lay side by side, and you look over at him as he starts to doze off, one arm across his ribcage, the other behind his head, one leg bent at the side.  His lashes flutter closed.  He looks peaceful.  He'd be blond, you realize.  His lashes are fair so his hair would be some shade of blond.  Or rather, he was blond, once.

Perhaps he’d be too beautiful with hair and a normal mouth, you think.  Maybe the strange appearance is another layer of armor.  The teeth certainly are; he must dye them with some kind of charcoal.  

“What,” he says again, his tone annoyed even as he doesn’t open his eyes.

“Nothing,” you say simply, and turn away.  When you’ve slept together it’s been with his chest against your back.  Neither of you have discussed it, but you both seem to prefer it.

As you drift off you picture a version of him with more pigmentation; sun-kissed skin sprinkled with more freckles; wavy blond hair and tawny eyebrows, a white-toothed smile.  A version of him almost too pretty to look at, in a life he was never going to have.

**********

You wake up as the early morning trickles in a sickly gray from the window.

Feyd’s turned away from you at some point during the night and it registers as odd, not having the already-familiar sensation of the warmth of his body against your back and his cock nestled against you.  You blink, turning around, and seeing that his back is turned towards you.  For some reason his scars look worse in the morning light.  Your pink little scratches and bite-marks will fade soon and be replaced by others; the lash-marks will probably never go away.

You reach out, fingertips skimming his back.  The unmarred skin is so soft, stretched over the sinewy muscle, that the raised skin of his scars feels like a road map of what he’s quick to endure.  You wonder about the scars along his inner thighs, if he’d let you touch them.  You think about how you’d like to, how you’d like to explore more of his body as you trail your fingertips along the deepest and ugliest of his lesions.

No sooner do you think that then you can sense Feyd waking and turning to face you in an instant.  It takes you by shock, barely able to comprehend what’s happening, as he grabs your wrist in a vice.

His pale eyes look silver; his nostrils flare, his jaw clenched.  For a moment it’s like he doesn’t see you.

You want to pull back but he holds onto your wrist–for a moment you worry that he’ll squeeze tighter and shatter the delicate bones.  The two of you stare, caught in silence.  Then he blinks and seems to take in the fear and confusion in your eyes, and whatever he saw wasn’t you, not with the recognition sinking in.  He releases your wrist, looks away, and rolls in the opposite direction of you.

“What are you–?” you start, stunned.  You feel utter whiplash from the difference a few seconds could make, unsure exactly what you did.

He gets up without a word.  He doesn’t look back at you as he pulls on his trousers. 

“What did I do?” you ask him.

He pauses, starts to look back, and turns his head back to the door and leaves.  You stare after the door once he’s shut it behind him, wondering what happened.

You don’t go back to sleep.  You lay in bed for the hours it takes for light to more prominently trickle in.

Not that he said it out loud, but you think you just got confirmation for how he got those scars.

Tags: @richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai

[thewulf]

That's a Kill Part 2 || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Y/N Kazansky. The Admiral's daughter. You always had to prove yourself to the boys. The good old boys. You never thought much of any of them, knowing you were better than them. That was until you were called back to Top Gun. You meet Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin falling for him quickly. You get selected for the infamous mission, leaving Jake terribly worried.

A/N: Longest one yet! I really enjoyed writing this one, thanks to Anon who requested! This has way less Hangman, I’m so sorry. More of an Admiral’s daughter part. Because of this I plan on doing a Part 3 to wrap it all up. This dives into the mission itself, don’t get me wrong it has cute Jake parts, just less of them. Also, apologies to Rooster… you stole his thunder. I really dislike simply rewriting parts of an already told story, but it just made sense for the plot of Part 3. That being said, the mission portion of this fic are just rewrites of what’s already in TGM changing which characters go through what. So, I didn’t do a lot of describing scenes during the actual mission. I really wanted this to focus more on the characters not the mission. There will be a Part 3 that’ll wrap everything up, meeting Ice and lots of fluff planned

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N, Iceman x Daughter!Reader, Maverick X PlantonicFemale!Reader

Word Count: 9,200+

Part 3

The Dagger Squad officially wrapped up training that Monday afternoon with an all-out battle between you and Mav. You were sure you were going to get the shot on him this time. You had him locked but he did some Maverick piloting shit not even you have seen from him. You lost your lock on him, you were distracted as he locked onto you, “That’s a kill, Kazansky.”

“Fuck.” You tore your mask off slowing your jet down. Wanting to slam your fists down onto the control panel but deciding against it knowing that it could send your jet out of control.

You landed before Mav. He was showboating off in the air. Typical Mav shit. You threw your helmet off leaving it behind in the cockpit. Frustrated beyond belief. You had your eyes locked on Hondo, rather pissed off at yourself for letting Maverick get the better of you again.

You blew past Bradley, nearly knocking him off balance on your quest to get the damn pushups over. So many pushups.

“Lava you alright there?” You heard Bradley ask from behind you. You were so in your own head about the kill shot you almost didn’t hear him.

You spun around on your boots seeing Rooster looking at you with a cockeye, “Yeah, I’m good.” You stuck your thumbs up like a toddler who had just been caught doing something.

“You just ran me over.” He deadpanned, not satisfied with your answer.

You sighed, “Just a little pissed off Rooster. I was this close to finally getting Mav.” You pinched your fingers together, “Locked on and all. But he literally just stopped midair, did a flip or something and locked on to me.” You balled your fists up.

Rooster laughed seeing your unmitigated frustration walking closer to you, “Well damn, I missed quite the show.”

You could feel your hands beginning to tremble. Meaning that the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins was beginning to wear off. You cursed yourself and now Rooster because these pushups were going to be 20 times harder with dead arms, “Really quite the show.” You grumbled beginning your walk over to Hondo again.

This time he stopped you, grabbing your arm, “Yes, Rooster?” You stopped turning back to him.

“What’s the matter Kazansky?”

“Why does something have to be the matter? Why can’t I just have an off day?” You fired back at him, surprising even yourself. Way too aggressive for you. Your bad mood was stemming from this mission. You were terribly nervous, too nervous for your own good. Maverick had successfully broken into your mind, freaking you the hell out. Him shooting you down for the final time this afternoon really sent your thoughts into a whirlwind. Life or death. You really didn’t want to die. You finally felt like you were really starting to get good at all of this, finally finding your groove.

“Woah, Y/N. Relax.” He stood there with his hands crossed against his chest observing you. He noticed your shaking hands and your standoffish demeanor. However, Rooster telling you to relax was doing the exact opposite of what he intended. Indeed not very relaxed. You were stressed, more stressed than you’ve ever been tenfold. You thought you knew how to cope but your mind was starting to falter. At the worst possible moment too.

Mav popped around Bradley curiously looking at the duo, “Something wrong?” His lips parted slightly waiting for one of you to speak. The situation didn’t look great from Pete’s standpoint. He landed his jet with the intention of giving you a little shit about having to do the pushups. He stated walking over seeing you not doing pushups but looking rather agitated standing in front of Rooster. Rooster looked concerned as he eyed you up and down.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You snapped at him this time. Mav took the teeniest step backwards surprised by your response. He had quite literally known you his entire life, never once seeing you snap the way you just did. He turned to Rooster sending him off with his eyes.

He placed an arm around your shoulder pulling him into you, “What’s up kid?” He asked after Rooster was out of ear shot. You let the breath of air out that you were unknowingly holding in.

“You shot me down again.” You mumbled looking to the ground. Mav decided to wave Hondo off this time letting you skip your pushups for whatever conversation was about to go down.

“Just like the other thousand times, Kazansky. What’s the big deal?” He chuckled releasing you from the shoulder hold he had you in. You felt so vulnerable under Pete’s gaze as he turned to study you. He was somebody you had grown up around, who taught you everything you knew, yet you felt incredibly nervous about it all. You felt small as he inspected you, so small.

“I had you though!” You threw your head back reliving your failure, “I had a kill, and I still didn’t get it.”

Maverick frowned, guiding you out of the hangar. You weren’t sure where the two of you were off to, but you let him lead you, “Kazansky.” He sighed as he took a seat on the outside of the hangar facing the water. He patted the dirt he was sitting next to signaling for you to join, which you did, “Talk to me kid.”

You leaned your head against the cold metal steel of the building. The cold feeling euphoric against your sweating head, “You don’t get a second chance out there Mav.”

He nodded, “I’m aware.”

You wanted to squeeze him, he wasn’t getting the turmoil you had put yourself into, “If I can’t beat you, what makes you think I’m good enough for this Pete.” You buried your head into your heads feeling your frustration building up.

“What we aren’t going to do is that.” He grabbed your wrist gently attempting to get you to look back up at him, “Remember, I need you all here Kazansky. Every bit of you.”

“I’m trying.” You looked to him, “But all I hear in my head is you repeating, ‘this is life or death’”.

“It is.” He spoke harshly. Your brain wanted to start spiraling again but he continued, “And let me tell you something Y/N. You are the only one who has completed the course successfully. You are the only one here who has done that so far. You. Just you. You are the only pilot here who has even gotten close to shooting me down. You. Just you. And you are the only God damn pilot that made me think you’d get me. You Y/N. Just you.” He pointed his finger to you, speaking right from his heart. You were sure you were going to burst out into tears hearing this from him, “Do you hear me Kazansky?” He asked.

You nodded your head up and down, “Yes sir.” You spoke with more confidence than you had all afternoon. You were honored that he said such kind things to you. But you knew he wasn’t lying or joking around in any way. He really did think those things of you.

“Y/N.” He turned his whole body to face you, “I’m going back to make my final decision with Cyclone and Warlock.” He paused waiting for you to look him in the eyes, “Can you do this Y/N?”

You had to. You were the best. You couldn’t let his words send you into such a panic. You wanted to do this. You needed to do this, “Yes Pete. I can do this.”

He nodded after abruptly standing offering his hands to pull you up. Once you were both standing he place both his hands on your shoulders, “I know you can do this Y/N. I need you to know you can.”

His confidence in you was all consuming. It lit that fire beneath your ass that was burning so brightly when you showed up. Your flame kept getting smaller and smaller after every time you’ve been struck down. Leave it to Maverick to find it again for you, “I can do this Pete.” You spoke with such confidence it drew Mav into his signature grin.

“Good. Now go get changed. I’m not saying you’re in but…” He winked at you before heading off to the war room.

You slowly made your way back to the locker room, taking your time to change. What you didn’t expect to see when you left the locker room was the blonde haired pilot that made your heart do questionable things. You about lost your mind when he smiled at you, waiting for you.

The two of you decided you wanted to take things slow, ultra-slow. Too slow in your opinion. It was more of Jake’s idea with you going along with it, not wanting to screw whatever this was up before it started. He took you to a nice dinner on Saturday. You got to put on a nice dress and wear your hair down for him, a very rare occurrence. He showered you in sweet compliments and little touches throughout the night. He stopped at your doorstep giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead. When you whined and asked him to actually kiss you he just said, “I will darling, I promise I will.” Pulling you into a hug instead. You attempted to pout your way into a kiss just making him laugh instead.

That Dagger Squad met at the Hard Deck that Sunday for one last get together negating any plans you and Jake were going to make. The two of you had to play it cool, painfully cool. You actively had to remember not to look at him smiling. Phoenix caught you looking over at him a few times shaking her head at you. The two of you made sure you were the last to leave. Getting to chat for a few before you needed to part. He again kissed you on the forehead. You decided not to fight him this time knowing Jake would do what Jake wanted to.

You were sure the tension between you and Jake on top of all the pressure from the mission was what caused you to almost break earlier. You couldn’t understand why Jake wouldn’t kiss you especially after hearing all the stories about his previous escapades. You knew it wasn’t you. He wanted to be around you, to be close to you. He put his hands on you whenever he could. On the car ride to dinner, he placed his hand on your thigh. He grabbed for your hand when you walked in making sure to constantly touch you throughout dinner. Even when he refused to come inside he was still holding onto you.

You had only confessed your feelings two days prior, yet he was driving you crazy already. These feelings were all so new and fresh for you. You finally understood what those girls were going through in college, this man was making you feral.

“Where’ve you been?” He asked softly reaching for your hand. You looked around making sure nobody could see before taking it softly. You ran your thumb over his knuckles as you studied his hand. You didn’t notice the chills that went up his arm from your touch.

“Talking with Mav.” You turned your face looking up to his. His eyes gave him away. They looked like they didn’t quite believe what you were saying. Something about the way he was squinting at you gave him away this time. You knew you were going to have to understand his eyes if you wanted to understand Jake.

“All good?” He asked as he mimicked your actions, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles this time.

“Mhmm.” You wanted to lean into him, just melt into him. But you also didn’t want to let anybody know just yet, it was all too new.

He just watched you as you found his hand fascinating. He let you divulge as much or as little information as you wanted. He found you so effortlessly beautiful. With your hair slicked back and in full military uniform you just looked so profoundly stunning to him. He wanted to cup your face getting you to look to him, but he couldn’t, not in these hallways. He knew he really shouldn’t be holding your hand either. He just couldn’t resist when he saw you come out of the locker rooms. You looked like you were battling with something in your head before your eyes landed on his. Your reaction to seeing him nearly sent him spiraling. Your face lit up when you spotted him. He knew he was a goner.

Which is exactly why he was resisting you with every ounce of strength he could find. He wanted nothing more to take you home and have his way with you. He wanted you, every single piece of you. He wanted to study you. To explore you until he had nothing left to. He also knew that you were unlike any woman he had come across. You challenged him more in the three weeks he’s known you than any other person has in his life. You would never back down a challenge, not even when the guys are ganging up on you. You would flip them the bird and move on with your day. You were also the wittiest woman he’s come across. You made it seem like he knew what he was going to say before he even said it. Don’t even get Jake started on how sweet you were. Truly, you were just a kind person. Even with the quick wittedness you still came across as nothing but kind.

He also knew how much you wanted him. It killed him to say no to you. It was endearing just how bad you wanted a kiss from him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out that much longer.

“We should get to the classroom then.” He said softly.

Snapping out of your thoughts you looked up to him, “Yeah, guess it’s the moment of truth.” You bit your cheek not trying to think of the ramifications of the mission. You were sure Mav was going to pick Jake, absolutely sure of it. This sudden realization sent another wave of panic through you. You were really going to have to get this shit under control if you were going to be one of the few chosen.

He tugged your arm lightly before dropping your hand. You frowned but knew it was for the best, you never knew who was going to be walking around the corner. Once you reached the door you motioned for him to go on, “Go, I’ll wait a few before coming in.” You were being extra cautious. If there was anybody who was going to notice you two walking in together very late it’d be Phoenix. You weren’t ready from an ass-chewing from her just yet.

He nodded giving your arm a squeeze once more before heading in. You could see his demeanor change from his softer side with you to Lieutenant Jake Seresin, everybody’s pain in the ass. You waited a few more minutes before joining the rest of the Dagger Squad. You slid into the classroom as nonchalantly as you could. Phoenix met your eye questioning why you were back to much later than the rest of them. As you passed her you gave her the ‘I’ll tell you later’ look.

You slid down in a seat next to Harvard. The two of you had become quick friends after Yale’s accident. Yale was grounded a week ago due to a concussion and a broken leg after a bad ejection from the practice plane. The entire ordeal scared the living shit out of everybody in the Squadron. But he was fine, obviously upset he no longer had a shot. Yale also felt incredibly guilty after leaving Harvard high and dry. Mav started pairing Harvard with different solo fliers. Harvard seemed to click with you and Rooster the best. You enjoyed flying with Harvard, but it was a change. You were used to going solo. You enjoyed the challenge, the two of you fully taking it head on. You still secretly wanted to fly this mission alone.

“Miss Lava.” He tipped his head in your direction.

“Mr. Harvard.” You bowed back to him. Little things like that provided you comfort with your potential new air partner. Admittedly you tried avoided flying with a Wizzo as much as you could. You’d never say no to flying with one if it was needed but Mav’s past was always in your mind. Your dad told you just how bad it was for Maverick after he lost Goose in that freak training incident. So, you opted to fly solo.

“All good?” His brow lifted waiting for your response.

You smiled at him, getting tired of the question, “Oh yeah, you know how bad I am at pushups.”

He chuckled, “I see those guns, don’t lie Kazansky.”

“Shut up, Aardvark.” You rolled your eyes using the nickname you had unintentionally given him in the last week. Maverick was on your ass. You just couldn’t shake him. You had Harvard yelling in the comms getting you frazzled as you avoided getting target locked. There was so much going on you couldn’t think of his callsign for the life of you and Aardvark unfortunately came out instead of Harvard. You supposed Aardvark sounded like Harvard backwards.

He snorted, “You’re not going to drop it are you? My callsign gets a callsign now?”

You nodded leaning back into your seat hoping to catch a glimpse of Jake. He was sitting further up in the classroom next to Coyote. The pair seemed to be talking about something seriously. You brought your attention back to Harvard knowing you weren’t being very discreet, “Only for you Harvard.”

You noticed his eyes looking towards where your eyes had just left, yep you were being too obvious. He smirked eyeing you like he knew something, “Seresin hey?”

“What are you talking about Harvard?” Gaslight, gaslight, gaslight. You gave him a blank look, a slack expression.

He leaned forward giving you a small, delighted smile, “I’m not stupid Kazansky.”

“Did I say you were?” You questioned back to him, horrified how quickly he picked up on it.

“You like him.” His lips twitched into a smile as he narrowed in on you, observing your reaction.

You thanked your lucky stars that you put makeup on today, praying that it was enough to cover the tomato face you inevitably had, “Do not.”

“Yes you do.”

You turned so fast to him giving him a wild-eyed look, “Do not.” You repeated yourself. You weren’t sure how obvious you had been in front of the crew, but it looks like Harvard noticed. You thought you were doing a pretty good job of hiding it.

“Then why do you act all weird when you’re flying with him?” He cockily raised a single eyebrow.

Your lips parted ready to respond but nothing came out, your brain was failing you, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Aardvark.” You scrunched your nose turning away from him slightly.

“You’re unbelievable Kazansky.”

“You best believe that.” You threw him your most charming smile.

He shook his head laughing silently to himself. He was about to respond but the classroom doors opened with Mav, Cyclone and Warlock following closely behind, “Showtime.” Harvard clapped his hands.

The squadron was silent, everybody on edge to hear the assignments. Mav took a spot leaving only five pilots being selected. All eyes watched as the three men took the center of the room.

Mav looked at each pilot individually before continuing, “It has been an honor flying with you. Each one of you represents the best of the best. This is a very specific mission. My choice is a reflection of that and nothing more.”

He took a pause before Cyclone stepped in. Cyclone was cold. Even colder than your dad. You kept your eyes on Mav as Cyclone spoke, “Choose your two foxtrot teams.”

Mav smiled, “Phoenix and Bob.” He nodded to them before continuing, “Rooster and Harvard.” Your heart sunk knowing it was either you or Jake flying solo. Mav continued, “And your wingman. Lava.” You gave yourself a mini fist pump.

You turned to Harvard giving him the biggest hug, “We did it.” You clapped your hand on his back. You were so caught up in your emotions you almost forgot Jake, almost. Mav didn’t call Jakes name. You desperately wanted to go over to him. To pull him into a hug. To tell him he’s still the best pilot here. Jake would never admit to anybody but this one was going to hurt him. You saw just how hard he had trained through the last few weeks. You saw how he went from an incredible pilot to an exceptional one. You were genuinely surprised by Mav’s decision. There was one thing you learned early though, Mav always had his reasons.

Jake and Coyote sat at their desk as the rest of the Dagger Squad congratulated each other. After each hug and conversation, you had your eyes immediately went back over to Jake. You caught his eyes a few times seeing just how sad they looked. He softly smiled each time you made eye contact making you feel worse each time. You were sure Harvard was watching the two of you communicate silently just knowing he was going to give you shit for it later.

Jake walked out before the congratulations ended. You mentally forced the frown away from your face, this was supposed to be the best moment of your career. All you could think about was making Jake smile though. You wanted his full on Jake Seresin toothy grin that sent your heart racing. The one that could light up any room.

Despite everything you noticed his truck hadn’t left the lot even being the first one to leave. You walked over to it seeing Jake sitting there. He was deep in thought as you strolled up to him returning the soft smile from earlier. He unlocked the door motioning you to join him.

“Hey.” You said while jumping into his truck.

“Hi.” He didn’t turn to look at you. Your heart fell as you thought about what to do, what you could do.

Turning your full body to face him you spoke, “Jake, I’m so sorry…”

He cut you off, “Don’t be darling. Can you come here?” He opened his arms waiting for you to scoot across the bench style seating to him.

“You’re not worried about them seeing?”

He shook his head, just wanting to hold you. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t really that sad. He was disappointed that Mav didn’t see him as good enough to fly. Jake knew you were going to be picked. He was almost certain he would’ve been too had Rooster not flown the way he had been recently. He was a backup, sure, but it just wasn’t the same as flying. He wanted to fly with you.

You happily obliged scooting yourself into his arms. You leaned your head onto his shoulder breathing him in. Quickly becoming obsessed with his cologne. The second he wrapped his arms around you pulling you in, you knew you were home. The instant relief and comfort such a simple gesture gave you was astonishing. As cheesy as it sounded, all your worries melted away as soon as he was near. You craved his physical touch.

“I don’t care right now.” He sighed resting his head on top of yours, “Just want you.” Your body felt nearly weightless at his words.

“I want you to.” You wrapped your arms around his torso squeezing him lightly.

He placed a kiss on the crown of your head whispering, “You’re so pretty.”

The chill that coursed through your body was nearly lethal. You were so weak when you heard his sweet words, “You can’t say that if you’re not going to kiss me.”

His laugh reverberated throughout your chest sending a small smile to your face. You closed your eyes fully taking him in.

You frowned when he pulled back from you, “It’s cute when you pout like that.” He took his free hand gently placing it under your chin. He ran his thumb along your jawline. He was fully taking you in now. You were looking at him with those big dopey eyes begging him to kiss you. It’s all you wanted, you wanted it more than getting selected for deployment.

You blinked slowly letting him hold your chin, “I wish you were going to be up there with me.” You sighed looking away from him. He wouldn’t let your head move out of his grasp, so you settled on moving your eyes away from him.

“Me too. More than anything, sweetheart.” He let your head go pulling your entire body into his, having your head rest on his chest. You were so profoundly comfortable with this man you didn’t think twice. You listened to the steady beat of his heart as he brushed through your hair. He was so soft. So gentle with you.

 “But you’re going to do amazing up there. You’re going to be the best damn pilot up here. You’re going to hit that Uranium facility. And then you’re going to come back home. You were picked Y/N. You.” He kept brushing through your hair feeling you tense around him. His words driving the fear of not coming home back to him, Mav, and your dad. He continued trying to ease your stress, “You were picked. Mav picked you because he knows you can do it. You, Y/N Kazansky. One of the best pilots I’ve ever seen.” You shivered relaxing into him feeling terribly vulnerable at his words. He was comforting you right now when you were meant to be comforting him.

“Jake,” You brought your head off his chest, “Thank you.”

“Anytime beautiful.” He dopily smiled at you, “Let’s get you back home. Need to rest up before tomorrow.” He squeezed your thigh removing himself from you completely. You didn’t like that part, untangling yourself from Hangman.

“If we must.” You grumbled unhappily.

You didn’t realize that just being around him improved his mood. Your gentleness made his heart soar. Nobody had been so gentle with him before. He was Hangman, the cocky aviator who could get whomever he wanted. Why would he need somebody to be gentle with him? He was fine, he was getting through it just fine. Yes, you challenged him, but you never pushed him too far. When he needed the comfort there you were right there for him.

He was growing to adore the way you pouted when you didn’t get your way. Your eyebrows would stitch themselves together, nose crinkled up and lips parted. Jake just knew it was the way you got through to your dad, Admiral Kazansky. He was also sure it wouldn’t be much longer before he started caving to that face as well.

You and Jake talked for a few more moments before you left and got into your car. Your mind was swimming in thoughts as you drove back home. You knew you needed to get your head in the game before you all deployed the next morning. When you got home you changed before laying down on the couch. You were a big ball of anxiety not sure how to get yourself to stop thinking.

You pulled your phone out dialing the only person you knew could help, “Y/N.” You heard the smile in his voice.

“Dad.” You let out the big breath you were holding in.

“I heard. Congratulations.”

“Mav?” You questioned.

“Yes. Gave me a call not too long ago. I’ve been waiting on yours.”

You smiled, that was so like him, “Yeah sorry, talked with some of the other pilots for a little bit.”

“Getting along okay?” He pressed. What did Mav tell him? Mav was far too unobservant to be catching you ogling Jake.

“Mhmm.” You hummed placing him on speaker, “Getting along great.”

“So, I’ve heard.” He chuckled.

“What’d he tell you?” Groaning you got up to grab a drink from the fridge.

“Oh, nothing Lieutenant.”

“Dad!” You laughed, “Tell me.”

“Why are you getting so worked up about it kid?.” You heart dropped into your butt. He had to know. He had to know something. He was right though. You didn’t get worked up about stuff like this ever. He knew something was off. Your dad knew you better than you knew yourself.

“I’m not.” You replied, lying.

“Well, that’s good. I’m glad you’re getting along with everybody.”

“You know that’s not why I called you dad.” You ran your fingers through your hair.

He paused knowing the lighthearted conversation was shifting into something far more serious, “How are you feeling Y/N?” He asked, genuinely checking in on his daughter. Not many things scared Admiral Kazansky. Not even the throat cancer he beat. But his daughter doing this mission? That scared the living shit out of him. His little girl, his pride and joy was about to deploy for one of the most serious missions he’s ever seen. He knew the risk of you not returning were far greater than anything else you’ve previously done. He was so scared, but he couldn’t let you know this. He had to be your rock right now, somebody to help and guide you.

“I’m a little anxious, dad.” You admitted. You unknowingly began nibbling on your lip as a release.

“That’s okay. I’d be shocked if you weren’t. You need to find a routine.” He spoke softly trying not to raise the anxiety that was already bubbling in you.

“Routine?”

“Before big flights. You need to find the routine that helps you relax. Like a hot bath and a book, you like those right?” He asked.

You couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread across your face. He knew you so well, “Yeah dad, that sounds like my perfect night.”

“When we hang up I need you to do that Y/N. I need you to take your mind off it. You can’t think up there Y/N.”

You nodded, “Don’t think. Just do.” You recited Mav’s favorite lines to your dad. You had grown up flying with your dad and Mav. You always heard Mav yelling, “Don’t think. Just do.” Repeatedly through the comms. When it was your turn to actually start flying the planes Mav made sure to give you a lesson in ‘Don’t think. Just do.’ Mav scared the living shit out of you when you took your first jet up in the air.

You’d been flying with your dad for literally as long as you could remember. You learned how to fly a plane when you were ten. Of course, your dad was sitting right there with you, but he gave you full control and let you at it. He always said that it was a little secret between the two of you fully knowing your mom would throw a fit if she knew. These were civilian air crafts, naturally. Your dad had some pull unfortunately not taking a jet out for a ten year old pull though. You were a natural picking up on everything rather quickly.

You weren’t allowed to fly solo until you turned sixteen, thanks FAA. The day you did though you were up in the air on your own, your dad cheering you on the entire way. He made sure he was in the tower giving you instructions as you went about. You’ll never forget the look on his face when you landed. You’d never seen him so happy as he scooped you in his arms spinning you around telling you how proud he was of you.

The day you turned 17 you got your private pilot license. You, of course, passed with flying colors. Your dad threw a big party inviting anybody and everybody. He loved showing off your talents. Classic Iceman. You had yet to graduate high school but was further ahead than anybody in your class. You had your dad to thank for that. A Naval Academy graduation, Naval flight school, Top Gun, and a few deployments later you knew you were ready. You were more ready than anybody before you. You’ve wanted this your whole life. Don’t think, just do.

“Don’t think. Just do.” He repeated back to you.

You took a deep breath feeling better. He always made you feel calmer, “Thank you, dad. You always know what to say.”

“Give ‘em hell Y/N. Give them hell kid.”

“Yes sir.” Your eyes crinkled from the smile forming across your face. That was always his favorite line. Give ‘em hell. You would do exactly that for your dad, give them hell.

Don’t think. Just do. Go time.

Your F-18 was idling waiting on the go from command. Second in line. Eighteen hours ago you were in Miramar training. Now you were halfway across the world. You took a deep breath knowing you’d get the all clear soon.

You tapped the picture of your family, for good luck, “Let’s have a good flight.” You stuck your thumb up signaling your readiness.

“Dagger One, up and ready on catapult one.” Mav spoke through the comms. You let your breath out, letting it go one last time.

“Dagger Spare, standing by.” Jake spoke. Here it comes.

“Dagger Four, up and ready.” Phoenix came through.

“Dagger Three, up and ready.” Rooster this time. Showtime.

Your turn, “Dagger Two, up and ready.” Time slowed down like it always did when you were launching. Your best days included launching yourself from an aircraft carrier.

You heard the faint, “Send them.” And you were off just milliseconds after Mav was gone. Time to go.

“All systems online.” You confirmed to yourself. You flew to the left of Mav solely focusing on what the next ten minutes would be. Get in. Get out. Dog Fight. Breathe.

“Dagger Attack.” Mav spoke. You maneuvered your jet behind the Dagger One squad coming up on the valley quickly. Locked in you followed Rooster, close. You probably were a little too close, you weren’t going fast enough. Rooster wasn’t flying fast enough. Thirty seconds in you heard panic over the comms, Rooster was not flying fast enough. Maverick was far ahead trying not to leave his wingman, but Rooster was making it hard. You gulped knowing what was on the other side of the climb, knowing how bad it could be for the Dagger Squad if he didn’t pick up the pace.

Another thirty seconds pass with everybody yelling at him to pick up the pace. You shook it off focusing on flying behind Rooster, as close as you could. You were getting nervous now, having over ten seconds to make up.

“Impact. Enemy runway is destroyed!” Command let the Dagger Squad know. Really no turning back now. Focus. In. Out. Dogfight.

Another thirty seconds go by. Rooster finally kicked it into high gear. You thanked your lucky stars knowing Mav needed to be locked in to drop those bombs.

You were able to speed yourself up hightailing it behind Rooster and Harvard. Phoenix and Bob not far behind you.

“15 seconds.” You spoke getting Dagger Four ready. Mav and Rooster just made their climb and dive into the mountain. Things really felt like they were going in slow motion as you were approaching the Uranium enrichment plant.

“We’ve got impact! That’s a direct hit!” You heard Harvard cheer from the Dagger One squad. Breathe. Your turn.

“Go time.” You punched it seeing the first climb ahead of you.

“Dagger Two, status.” You heard Mav breathing hard. No fucking way he was talking to you while climbing that mounting.

“Almost there Mav. Almost there.” Your eyes were locked on, ready for it.

You pulled up breathing erratically forcing the plane into positions it did not want to be in. Just a few more seconds and you could breathe. You flipped the plane descending into the mounting spotting the blown up entryway.

“Bob, where’s my laser?”

“Working on it Lava.” You heard Phoenix and Bob both breathing heavily.

“Hurry up Bob.” You spoke to yourself starting to panic at the time crunch.

“Laser eye locked on.” Bob spoke calmly.

“Bombs away.” You hit the button praying for a hit. The second the bombs were dropped you pulled up, hard. You hardly heard the “Bulls-eye!” celebration as you were climbing the mountain. The G’s you, Phoenix and Bob were taking should’ve knocked you out cold. You vision started getting hazy fully knowing you were hitting 10 G’s. You squeezed every muscle in your body trying to get the blood pumping back into your brain. Focus. Get out. Dogfight.

The gasp you took once you finally crested the mountain was not for the light of heart. You had half a second to your thoughts before the SAM’s started firing.

“Fuck.” You muttered fully comprehending what was going down. You got in. You got out. Dogfight time. You punched it letting Phoenix and Bob know, you couldn’t lose them. They were your wingmen. Don’t think. Just do.

You were firing flares and bullets galore. You knew you needed to conserve them but there was just too many SAM’s coming in every direction. Phoenix was yelling. Mav was yelling. You were yelling right with them trying to get everybody out of it alive.

You felt a sense of peace wash over you as your flares were depleting far too fast. You used too many diverting a missile away from Phoenix. You used the last few blowing a missile up from behind.

“I’m out of flares.” You spoke, eerily calm into the radio. You rolled away right from the middle of the action trying to think of what to do, anything to do. What would Iceman do? They wouldn’t think. They would just do.

You grunted maneuvering every which way and direction. Fuck, there was so much going on.

“Smoke in the air!” You heard Phoenix yelling.

“Shit, I’m out Phoenix.” You panicked. No flares. Only bullets, that’d do you no good. Time to race and hope for the best.

“Evade! Evade!” Mav screamed into his comms. Horrified at what he saw happening before him he sprang into action.

“I can’t shake them!” You went right and left, up and down trying to get the missiles off your ass.

Mav flew above you releasing his flares. Eyes wide you let out a guttural scream when you saw Mav’s plane take a direct hit, “Mav! No!” You cried.

“Dagger one is hit! I repeat Dagger one it his! Maverick is down.” Phoenix yelled to command letting them know what was happening out in the field.

“Dagger one, come in!” You cried into the comms, desperate, “Did anyone see a parachute? Dagger one!” No response. The three planes began their flight back to the carrier. You couldn’t focus. Mav was down there.

“Lava! Those bandits are closing we can’t go back.” Phoenix tried to reason with you. You were breathing hard. You couldn’t believe your ears. They would just abandon him? Your Uncle Mav?

“Lava, he’s gone. Maverick’s gone.” Bob spoke up this time.

You shook your head, they didn’t understand. Fuck it. You dipped out of formation disobeying orders. Phoenix, Bob, Rooster and Harvard screaming at you. Ignore. Go find Mav. You flew as fast as you could. More screaming into the headset. There, a helicopter down below. It was firing at something. Mav?

You locked target, giddy with excitement. You released one of your only offensive missiles left. You watched as the helicopter exploded, unsure if Mav was down there. What you really hadn’t thought about was being defenseless and within SAM range again. You were hit almost immediately after you hit that helicopter. Lucky for you, you ejected.

You were wrapping your parachute up when Maverick came sprinting into your view. He was alive, cool, maybe you would be able to figure this one out after all. You went to greet him, but you received a rather hard push into the snow instead.

“What the hell Mav!” You yelled.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine.” You groaned standing back up, “That hurt though.”

“What are you doing here? You think I took that missile so you could be down here?” He yelled.

“Jesus Christ Mav! Did I not sure save your life?”

“I saved yours!” He huffed in frustration, “Ice is going to skin me alive, Y/N Kazansky. What the hell were you even thinking?”

“You taught me not to think!” You yelled back to him.

He clenched his fists in frustration, beaten on that one, “Well, it’s good to see you.”

You grinned laughing a little, “Good to see you too, Mav. Got a plan?” You smiled sweetly to your daredevil uncle. He always had some sort of plan. You found your way to the blown up air strip curious as to what he was thinking. You both jogged to an unmanned hanger. An F-14 sitting there, just waiting on Mav. He instructed you on what to do. Somehow finding a strip or concrete that could take the jet.

To your absolute astonishment the damn thing made it up in the air. Not after you making fun of it, calling it a museum piece. Mav instantly defended the worn down jet. You thought it’d be smooth flying back to the jet. But to your absolute horror two jets flew up next to you speaking a foreign language. Busted. You worked in the backseat to try and get something going, flipping every breaking you could. There was a reason you were a pilot and not a Wizzo, this stuff did not come easily to you.

“Come on Mav. Don’t think, just do.”

“Hang tight kid.” Mav began his crazy array of piloting shit, you getting to witness it front and center. Immediately taking one of the jets out.

“Smoke in the air!” You cried trying to help him out as much as you could.

“Flares. Now, now, now!” You let them rip from behind you defending yourself.

Mav dived getting low. Claiming that the terrain would confuse his targeting system. You gasped when the bullets came flying. Life or death.

“We took a hit!” You yelled.

“Brace yourself.” He almost stopped the jet hopping over the one that was chasing the duo. Mav unleased a flurry of attacks on the jet.

“You got them Mav!” Mav nailed the jet sending it down.

“Yes! Mav!” You shrieked happier than ever. Mav was certifiably the most insane pilot you’ve ever been around. You couldn’t believe what he was doing in the jet.

You thought you were all clear until you somehow managed to get the radar on. “Oh fuck.” You gasped seeing something not friendly pop up on the scan.

“Mav we got another one! Where is it?”

“On our nose.”

You were sent into a panic seeing a missile coming straight at you. Mav dodged the missile and the plane.

“We’re out of flares Mav.” You yelled not believing it was happening for a second time.

The bullets from the fifth gen started firing right at the inferior Tomcat, ripping into the back of it, “This is not good.” You cried looking behind you. Mav moved the aircraft back and forth somehow dodging most of the bullets.

“We took another hit!”

“No, no, no, no, no.” You heard Maverick begin to panic. Shit. You knew it was serious when he was sent into a frenzy.

“We can’t outrun this guy. Pull the ejection handles the second I tell you.” Mav spoke quickly realizing how dire the situation was.

“Mav wait!”

“Lava there’s no other way.” He pulled the aircraft up not giving you a second to argue with him.

“Eject, eject, eject. Lava, pull the handle! Eject!” Mav cried.

You tried. You really tried with all your might but the handles above you wouldn’t budge. You tried once more with no luck. A cold shiver ran through your body as you realized it really might be over for you.

“It’s not working! Mav!”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry Ice.” He whispered. Your blood ran cold hearing the target lock. You tried with all your might to get the ejection handles to work.

As your luck would have it you heard an explosion from behind you. The jet had exploded out of thin air. That was until Jake came on through. You let out a cry realizing you’d make it home. It was hard to accept you’re the fate of death knowing what could happen at any time. It had never felt so serious before that moment. You would still love flying. You just had a newfound respect for it after this one.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. This is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions, and prepare for landing.” You and Maverick both let out a laugh. You crying a little. Giving him a thumbs up.

“Hey, Hangman, you look good.” Mav spoke after catching his breath.

“I am good, Mav. I’m very good.” You could see the smugness from as far as you were. He’d never let you live this one down.

You and Mav had a not so spectacular landing without a tailhook or landing gear. You sat there for a moment collecting your breath not really believing you’d made it back with hardly a scratch.

“You good?” Mav asked.

You laughed, feeling more euphoric than anything, “Yeah Mav, I’m good.”

The Tomcat was surrounded by crew and pilots alike celebrating your arrival back safe and sound. Mav was swept up by Hondo and Rooster. Phoenix cried bear hugging you.

“You stupid fucking idiot Kazansky.” She released you letting Jake have at you.

“I had to Phoenix.” She shook her head.

“Your boyfriend wants a word.”

You spun around seeing Jake looking very un-Jake like face looking back to you. He was happy to see you. You could tell that much. He just looked terrified?

“Are you fucking insane? Do you have a death wish?” Jake asked as he pulled you aside from the celebration grabbing your shoulders, shaking you back to reality, “Y/N!” He pushed you up against the inside aircraft carrier’s walls lightly.

“I’m sorry Jake!” You tried prying his hands off you, but he wouldn’t relent. He wasn’t hurting you by any means. He needed to touch you. To know that you were real. Jake couldn’t comprehend the last 45 minutes. First Maverick getting shot down he fully expected to scramble. Then, the worst news he could have heard, Dagger Two had been hit. He felt his blood drain right out of his body, finding it hard to breath.

“You’re sorry? You were dead Kazansky. Dead to the military. They wouldn’t let me go.” He let out a frustrated groan. Not sure how to express himself to you.

“I had to. That’s Pete. I had to Jake.” You couldn’t look up to him. It was finally hitting you just how dumb you had been. Your dad wasn’t going to be too thrilled about this one.

“Please look at me.” He spoke more calmly, chest heaving in and out. Obliging you looked up to him fully seeing the distress on his face, “I thought you were dead Y/N. For forty minutes I thought you were gone.” A single tear rolled down his face. Shit. Fuck.

You reached up wiping it away with the pad of your thumb, “But you saved us.” You spoke so quietly.

“I shouldn’t have had to.” He leaned his forehead against yours pushing you back up against the wall completely, “What were you thinking.”

“I wasn’t.” You admitted for the second time that day.

He cupped your face with his hands, “Can I kiss you?”

Eyes wide you responded, “Here? They’re all going to see.” You looked out onto the deck seeing everybody still celebrating. You were pulled away quickly from the chaos by Jake not fully getting to celebrate just yet. Celebration first then comes the inevitable punishment. You did disobey direct orders.

He shook his head looking at you like you were the most important thing to him, “I don’t care anymore. I thought you were gone. I thought I was never going to be able to kiss you Kazansky.” He looked at you with those lovesick eyes.

“Finally.” You grinned pulling him into you. He kissed you softly not wanting to mess this up. You, however, wanted more. You flipped him around, so he was leaning on the wall backed up against it. You pulled him in closer kissing him with more fervor. You pressed your body into his making sure he felt the friction you desired. Parting your mouth, you allowed him entrance.

He felt every ounce of your eagerness. Happily kissing you more aggressively than he anticipated. The two of you were no longer just kissing one another, you were full on sucking face. He stifled a grunt as you kept pressing yourself into him.

He broke the make out up knowing he would never hear the end of it if he had a hard on when he rejoined the celebration, “Jesus Christ Lieutenant, you can’t do that here.”

You giggled staring right at his mouth, you wanted more. So much more. He looked so damn hot standing there a little dazed with a semi-swollen mouth, “Sorry Hangman.”

He licked his lips knowing exactly what he wanted to do to you later, “Doesn’t seem all that sincere of an apology.”

You winked at him, no apology whatsoever, “It’s not. Now let’s go.” You took his hand dragging him back out onto the deck joining right back in where you left off.

“Well, aren’t you just a vision.” Jake whistled when you opened your front door. He handed you a small bouquet of flowers, “For you my dear.”

“Lilies!” You grinned grabbing the flowers from him gingerly, “These are my favorite.” You smiled up to him.

“They’re the ones from that pretty dress you wear sometimes.” He blushed lightly, not sure why he admitted that to you. Jake wanted to tell you everything. He learned this quickly in your relationship. The first few weeks he struggled not to pick his phone up to call you about something inconvenient that happened. You had to keep your phone on silent, getting in trouble for having it on as you were back in class.

You were originally stationed out of Virginia Beach, far away from your family. After the mission, and the ass chewing from your father, you were transferred back to Miramar. Again, you were convinced it was your father pulling strings because Cyclone wasn’t your biggest fan these days after you disobeyed his orders. You were reassigned as a teacher at Top Gun. You did your best to stay away from Cyclone, but it was hard, Top Gun wasn’t a big place.

Jake was previously stationed in San Diego, at the base a little further South. You couldn’t help but to be excited when you were transferred back to Top Gun. Jake was down the road. Mav literally lived a few blocks from you and your family was within driving distance.

You jumped in headfirst at Top Gun, you were used as the Maverick of training in the field. You loved beating aviators that were much older than you, all cockier than the next. You loved knocking then down a peg, humbling them a bit. You were worried that your flying career was over with the transfer. Your fears were moot when you were given your next set of orders, a mission in the middle east. That wasn’t for another few weeks though.

You set the flowers in a vase and topped it with water. Smiling stupidly at the flowers. You were floored that he noticed something so small. You hurried back over to your charming date.

“You noticed that hmm?” You kissed him on the cheek smiling sweetly at the man. You weren’t sure but you thought you loved him. You wouldn’t dare admit that anytime soon knowing you’d sound crazy, but he was incredible in every way. It was the small things he did that made your days so much easier. He would make sure your car was filled up, bring you flowers, order you dinner, made sure you never opened a door when he was around. You couldn’t help but to fall in love with him. You were only a month and half in, but you knew. You knew he was it for you.

“I notice everything about you sweetheart.” He tapped your nose with his pointer finger. Grabbing your hand, he walked you to his truck opening his door for you, “You really do look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Jake.” You shook your head at him loving the flattery but shy about it nonetheless.

He nodded winking at you thinking how cute it was when you shied away. He knew how comfortable you were with him, but the simplest comments would make you shy away. He still had something up his sleeve.

The drive to the beach was mostly quiet albeit the radio humming away. You loved the comfortable silence between the too, never feeling the slightest bit awkward. You always moved closer to him making sure to not distract him too much when he was driving. You either played with his hand or he with yours. Seemingly not ever wanting to ever let him go.

He parked. Jumping out quickly to get to your door before you could. You laughed as he just beat you this time, “You know I can get the door.”

He cocked an eye, “Sure you can. But you won’t.” He took your hand helping you down.

He grabbed a picnic basket and a blanket out of the back leading you to the beach. You loved the beach at sunset. The colors in the sky, the birds chirping away, the people flying kites. Everything about it made you happy. Jake picked up on it quickly, you were always suggesting sunset walks or swims. He was learning to love it just as much as you did.

He laid everything out letting you pick which spot you wanted, “This is wonderful.” You softly smiled to the man who captured your heart.

“I know how much you love the beach sunset. Why not dinner and a beach sunset.” He grabbed your hands squeezing them.

“You’re so sweet.” You couldn’t take your eyes off him, sunset be dammed, “Phoenix never believes me when I tell her how it’s going.”

He grumbled, “You tell Phoenix?”

“Yeah, and Halo.”

“Kazansky.” He sighed peeking back up seeing your amused expression. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread brightly across his face.

“Seresin.” You giggle admiring the way the sun reflects off him.

“Gosh you’re pretty.”

“So are you.” You replied quickly. Suddenly feeling flustered by him as he scooted closer to you.

He chuckled reaching for your face, “Sweet girl.” He leaned in further sending your heart into a frenzy. He stopped just short of your lips letting you finish the kiss, only if you wanted to.

You wanted too, closing the gap quickly. You felt him smile as you kissed him. You just adored him. He only stopped when he heard your stomach grumble.

“Let’s eat.” He grinned handing you your dinner.

Part 3

[brightsstar]

In a way, i have come to realize that something did still need to be sacrificed for Solar's return, and Eclipse sacrificed himself by sacrificing his dimensional signiture so Solar can continue to exist there. And it is true that the potential outcome for the both of them having the same signiture in the same dimension could end potentially very badly for the both of them. (Look at what happens to Fredbear in fnaf world if you interact with him while Fredbear is your party leader-)

I mean, personally, i had a feeling that dimensional code had something to do with it, but i was thinking more like maybe rewriting it and using the star power to anchor Solar to their dimension instead. Not sacrificing. (Though part of me really hates that it also lines up with what i planned to do in that comic with Eclipse and Solar that i didn't finish. It was gonna end in a similar outcome, but then i got so conflicted over the ending i wanted for it that i had to stop.)

I refuse to believe Eclipse only did it to prove himself superior to Moon. That may be a part of it, but everything he had done leading up to this proves that he cares. And he probably at least did it for Earth. Like, he actually did try to get Moon help before he completely fell off the deep end. That despite everything, he remained set on it (in a much calmer manner too) and even kept exactly what he was told to himself until he was absolutely sure it would work, only hinting that he may have an idea that might work up until that point. Even pushing through what Dark Sun had done to him to try getting as far as possible before he either shut down or until he couldn't move at all anymore. He risked everything just to get the information he has. Considering Dark Sun kept him just on the verge of not dying the whole time he was there. Hell, he even asked for help. Unlike Moon..

He also told Moon at least twice that he had a way to bring Solar back without needing to sacrifice a life the way Moon was trying, and Moon just told him to get on with it, not bothering to ask what that method even was. He didn't care to listen. And, in Eclipse's own words: "Moon's a stubborn mule, Once he has his mind set on something, he will not get off of it! And if I even told him about this whole idea, you know what he would have done? He would've told me to fuck off."

And again, he mentioned he had a different idea to Moon at least twice. No details, but Moon did not care. He was too set on getting him back by sacrifice instead of giving Eclipse the time he needed. Though, honestly, yes that worked in Eclipse's favor when he didn't since Dark Sun is no longer slowing him down.

One thing is for certain, Dark Sun is planning something and it is not good. And our Sun is catching on. He's still a damn hypocrite though.. for someone who kept saying he just wanted to be left alone, he is meddling a lot in their lives for no discernible reason. He could have left them to their lives and kept to himself, but he is clearly taking advantage of Solar's death and the mental state it put New Moon in (also due to his meddling...). Now that he has New Moon, i don't know what he plans to do with him. I presume that New Moon and Dark Sun will be the new villains. I also think that Dark Sun is gonna betray New Moon in some way. They may do the takeover this year, and both previous takeover arcs had betrayal in them. So i will not be surprised.

I think that this descent into insanity arc is over now, and transitioning into the next one since Solar and Old Moon are coming back soon, and Dark Sun and New Moon are up to god knows what. Time to see where things go from here.

[wtfwhy]

HOW I WOULD REWRITE THE TEEN WOLF MOVIE

First of all its a slice of life comedy 

No villain just normal problems, but maybe background Monroe issues

Each character has a running gag or a funny arc 

Scott:

Runs his own veterinary business but accidentally placed his building in a place with primary cat people. He can not treat cats because they go crazy around him (he tells the humans he's allergic to cats). So the whole movie is him talking to real estate agents about buying a new building and selling his current one. The process is painfully slow. (but the new place is in beacon hills were this all takes place)

Kira: 

Is still not in the movie but a bit after 6b she came back from the skinwalkers and she and scott get married. During the movie she's actually having a girls weekend with the skinwalkers because they became good friends 

Lydia:

She and Stiles have twins (like 10 years old or something) and a newborn baby. Stiles convinces Lydia to take a break cause she's so stressed and to go visit their friends (so thats why shes in bh) during the movie she'll be having a conversation interrupts by taking a phone call. Its the twins' school. She is the leader of the PTA. This happens multiple times throughout the movie. (minor detail of her being super successful, getting that feilds medal, and being like the second Stephen Hawkins basically)

Stiles: 

Is at home taking care of the newborn, we cant hear his voice but Lydia talks to him on the phone.

Jackson:

Is just constantly hanging out with lydia the entire movie, her sidekick, her goon

Malia: 

Life way more put together than in the real movie. She works as like a camp ranger nature person or whatever, has weekly dinner with Mr. Tate, and is overall living her best life. Shes currently single but like every guy her age in beacon hills is trying to get with her. Shes also internet famous. She has simps. She lives in beacon hills but has traveled to a few different countries, including france 

Parish:

Is no longer a cop because he found his true calling in modeling 

Sheriff:

Retired and tired. Lydia is staying with him during her visit. He's just really happy about being a grandfather

Derek:

Same basically, a cool dad, so similar to tyler heclens (idk sp) portrayal of clark kent that a joke about that is made

The scene where he talks to coach is there so that coach can not recognize him and then derek is like "oh sorry, how about now?" (he walked into the corner of the room, clenched his fists at his side, and started glaring like he was about to kill someone) and coach is like omg yeah i remember you, hows it been? 

Also he is married to braeden and she is elis step mom

ALSO he has 11 kids including eli, he is tom baker cheaper by the dozen.

Eli: 

Stiles' biggest fan, just like that one post✊ (i saw a post about that being why hes like stiles and it annoying derek and its one of the funniest things ever, i dont remeber the poster sorry) calls all of the original pack uncle or aunt. He and Malia besties. His arc is he has a boyfriend or girlfriend and is trying desperately for no one to find out because they all babysitted him and are notorious for telling embarassing baby stories to his friends and previous partners. He's the oldest sibling.

Chris:

Literally just chilling, planning a tropical vacation, is married to Melissa 

Melissa:

Still works at hospital, overly mushy with chris, especially in front of peter 

Peter: 

Same as usual but 10x more dramatic. Lives on Melissa's coach. Theres a few random times in the movie hes being interviewed like hes in the office. He's the only one that this happens with.

Issac:

Only speaks in french, but there are subtitles for the audience. Only speaks English to Chris even though Chris knows french. Malia and him are friends from when she visited france.

Liam:

Professional lacrosse player, is in the lacrosse nfl (i have no idea if thats a thing) hangs out with mason and on his off time he leads an anger management class

Mason: 

Politician, the only thing stopping him from being president is his age. Corey uses his powers to steal incriminating evidence against masons evil political opponents. They are married. 

Theo:

He's a trailer life vlogger, very successful online. Regularly hits up scott and liam for no particular reason (its because hes lonely) its never mentioned but there's a brief shot of his trailer and on one of the walls there's a picture of the pack with a picture of theo tapped to it. And/or just a picture of stiles* Bonus points for hearts. 

He goes to liams class as a demonstration on how not to beat someone up when you're angry (liam and theo usually end up fighting anyway)

Allison: 

Either not in it or inexplicably alive. No mention as of how or why or when she came back. At one point there is a very clear reference to her death so the audience knows it wasn't reconned or something 

OR ( my sister's idea) Chris Ouija boards her every friday night and they chat

Deaton: 

Just doing completely unrelated shady shit, which all ends up being something super anti-climatic 

This is my vision

*to clarify, i dont ship them, its just that how obsessed theo was with void stiles lives rent free in my head

[lemotmo]

I messaged and asked if I could share these before sending this to you just to be sure! But I thought I would share her first Tommy post. She's had a couple of messages about how she was clearly never really pro Tommy. She was, but it was always with a for now kind of narrative. But I thought some people would like to see it. It's favorable to Tommy so no one freak out because it's OLD. We are all aware of her feelings on the matter now. It's her first Tommy post following 7x4 but it's pretty clear what she's actually excited about though. I'm also attaching the post she made following the season finale because it's a mood and sums up most everyone's opinions of that episode nicely. Hopefully the way I had to copy them doesn't format weird. Enjoy!

That episode was heaven. An absolutely beautiful, perfectly Buck episode. I'm going to fawn for a few minutes and then I'm going to overthink some things,lol. First things first Tommy is just fun. What a great first relationship for Buck. No pressure, just lighthearted goodness. He deserves to have the best time and Tommy seems like a great way for him to explore this new reality. He can stay for a while. I won't lie, his face doesn't do much for me personally, but overall I get the appeal and I hope Buck has a blast. Seriously though they did such a good job bringing him into the mix. I'm genuinely stunned. He works and it didn't require a whole lot of effort to make him work. I am thoroughly impressed. And on a completely shallow note that was a spectacular first kiss. Well done all the way around. I'm so overwhelmed and impressed by the entire episode. Bravo to all! Our little Buckley is canonically bi!

Now to the overthinking part, and I'm sorry in advance. The episode text was entirely reliant on Eddie. Someone please correct me if I'm wrong but I don't recall the show ever establishing that Eddie was into Muay Thai prior to last night. Which means they invented an Eddie hobby specifically to give Tommy the same hobby. That's insane behavior. I mean that was absolutely unnecessary and not only did they intentionally add it they made sure to make the audience aware of it. They had Buck repeatedly point out his similarities to Eddie. I was watching live with a couple of friends and we all kind of had a wtf moment. Because are they actually going to do it??? Are they actually maybe baby stepping towards legitimately going there?? I'm going to have to rewatch but man it kind of genuinely feels like it might actually happen. And I'm speechless about it. It's pretty much what everyone is waiting for at this point. I just never thought they'd actually do it. But I don't know guys last night definitely felt like it was something.

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

Before I rage vomit my opinion of last night's episode I want to make a plea. A plea to Tim, ABC, Ryan Murphy, or anyone with power who will listen. Stop allowing Kristen Reidel to write anything for this show. She shouldn't be allowed near the writers room let alone be allowed to write what are supposed to be significant episodes. She has now written the last two season finales and they have both been atrocious. Worse than bad. Worse than boring. Completely and utterly atrocious. I am truly stunned by how bad this episode was. I mean it was clear the entire back half of the season was a last minute rewrite because they got renewed so fast, and as a result, Tim clearly decided to slow the originally planned stories down. The latter half of this season was abysmal. And because of that they needed a decent finale to salvage any part of it. And the second Kristen's name came up on the opening credits it was over. I dead ass started laughing the last 15 minutes because I could not comprehend how terrible it all was. It was maybe the worst episode in the history of the series. I'm serious. I can't think of a worse overall episode. It was embarrassing. You're the number one show on that network and you rolled that piece of garbage out as your season finale. Really?

I'm not even going to waste breath talking about the ridiculous Bobby/Athena/Cartel nonsense because it was too stupid for words. The only thing I will say is Kristen clearly likes Athena, it's obvious, so why does she always write her as some crazy RoboCop ripoff with a vigilante kink? It's mind boggling. The worst part though was the Eddie/Christopher/Buck arc. That actually broke my heart. In the hands of a more talented writer Oliver and Ryan, and precious Gavin could have salvaged that storyline. They did all the heavy lifting anyway, but the writing failed them miserably (big shock). Ryan did everything he could with that pile of garbage. Tim, you all killed her off. Let it go. I don't want to see her again. For the love of god free Eddie from the Shannon cycle. And then on top of everything else you did to Eddie this season you sent his son away. Look if they're actually going the Buddie route, which I am now convinced they are, Christopher needs to be away for a bit. I get that. But him asking to go stay with his grandparents was not the way to do it. Especially given how well your audience knows Eddie's very complicated relationship with his parents. It was gross. There were other ways to remove Chris from the equation for a bit. That brings me, finally, to that disgusting, completely out of place dinner scene between Buck and Tommy. What in the actual hell was that scene? It was so wildly out of place within the context of the episode it felt like watching whiplash. They clearly had a scene count in Lou's contract and needed one more scene, fine. They're also clearly establishing this relationship as purely surface level so they weren't going to give him a scene at the hospital or anything else that would demonstrate a level of tenderness. That all makes sense. But the audience had just spent 45 minutes watching the man that we all know Buck sees as his dad basically dying. He died. Buck being Buck wanted to talk about it. Tried to have a very serious conversation and Tommy turned that attempt into a daddy sex kink joke. Are you kidding me?!? I get it. For Tommy this is about Buck being hot and them having a good time, and nothing more so he doesn't want to bring anything serious into the mix. Fine. But there were so many less skin crawling ways to drive that point home. It was disgusting. And I continue to be stunned by the amount of Tommy apologists who keep pretending it's not obvious what the show is doing here. He isn't coming across as charming. He's not being written as charming. Look at the GA reactions. You're not meant to be viewing this as a love story. I know you all can see that. Rant done. I need a drink.

Thank you Nonny. I'm glad you asked her if it was okay to post it. You don't often see that kind of courtesy in fandom anymore.

The contrast between the first post and the last post is sending me. :) Once again the OP managed to explain everything in such a rational way. The way she breaks down these episodes and characters without letting herself get carried away by loud fandom voices and general bi Buck happiness, is truly admirable.

If I have to nitpick, I have to admit that I don't agree with that first kiss being a 'spectacular kiss'. I admit I never liked it. I think I must have watched it twice now and then never again. Something has always bothered me about that scene. I can't pinpoint it, but it has always felt a little wooden somehow.

But you know that I am kind of biased. ;) What can I say? I'm a one guy kind of girl and that guy in question is Eddie. :D

Don't turn away yet, because there is another OP post coming after this one. :)

Remember, no hate in comments or reblogs. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of the anonymous OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[starbeltconstellation]

hiiiii i hope you have been having an amazing summer! i hope this isnt that bothersome to ask since you’re still writing it out but i would like to ask around what month do you think you would be able to get the chapter that you are writing to come out? i also saw that you were saying that you were at around 40k words for this chapter so i don’t want it to seem like i’m trying to rush or anything, just genially curious. also hope that the fix doesnt end up being dropped for what ver reason since i think it might just be the only fic for the SW fandom that actually has me going back and re-reading and still able to enjoy it(which is a bit of a rare thing these days since i’m always surrounded by smut having fics, which is not a bad thing, but it can get old quite quickly).

also i have to say that this is the first time where the slow burn has actually been a slow burn and not just a lazy thing written out and having been given much thought. i really like how you have so far made each encounter between the oc and anakin not a copy and paste of their first encounter (with the oc being afraid of her life and anakin being just confused but both of them trying to figure out and work out their problems as each chapter comes out). this is all i have to say for now ig so again i hope you have an amazing day!!! 💕

Helloooo! 😊💕

Thank you so very much for the lovely ask and well wishes, dear reader duckling! 😁❤️✨ It truly made my day to see a new ask in my inbox . Hehe. ❤️❤️✨

And I’m soooo sorry for the late response! 😭❤️💔 It just takes me a while to get to asks sometimes with my life problems going on, especially because I want to dedicate the right amount of attention to giving my thoughts. But I just wanted you and all my other readers to know that I’m never ignoring you. 💕💕

It’s completely fine for you to check in and ask me about my chapter progress, dear! 💕✨ Makes me at least know someone’s still out there excited to see it. Haha.

I’ll put the rest of my answer under a read more:

Well, what I do for my Fic chapters is I try to split up the scenes from scenes from the actual EPISODES from The Clone Wars, and then write the other scenes from my own planned storyline in between everything else. What I had ORIGINALLY planned was to have each chapter be one episode of TCW, or another original storyline arc that I had chosen to add (ie; the Kudon III storyline). However, I very quickly realized that writing out a completely original storyline takes a lot fucking longer and more brain power than expected. 😭😖🫠 And not only that—the 🔥sensual Melakin scenes 🔥 take even TWICE as long as that. Lol. 😭 And so—QUITE sadly—I have had to admit to myself that it just isn’t feasible for my chapters to be that long, even though cutting TCW episodes in multiple chapters might break the flow of the story.

And so, after I FINALLY get out this whopper of a chapter (which I HOPE to have completed by the first weeks of August), I am NEVERRRR writing a chapter this long again. Lol. 😭🤦‍♀️

So rest easy with that, in the sense that hopefully a hiatus will never be this long again. I think the problem with writing chapters this long is that—for one—my SW hyperfixation is gone, which makes my writing way slower that it used to be (which I fucking HATE 😭🙃). For another, the problem is my depression steals my energy and motivation, and while the 25% of lovely reader comments I get out of the 70% silent ghost readers that I try to “pspspsps” into my comment feed, give me boosts of that good ol’ serotonin—at the same time: I think the problem is that, with the shorter chapters beforehand, I could write so much in one day, because in doing so, I would already get halfway done in only a few hours. But with such a long chapter, it makes me kind of dread writing for so long, to not even have the satisfaction of pressing “post” at the end of it all in reward. Lol. 😭💔🫠

And so, this chapter has gone at about a snails pace for that very reason. 😭😅

So, what I NOW am planning to do is to split each TCW episode and original storyline I come up with into probably a three arc format (ie; three chapters), which will make it much easier for me to write without getting exhausted. That way, the chapters should only be at the most 10 to 15,000 words (hopefully. Lol). 😅😂❤️

BUT! I will ease your mind by saying that no matter WHAT—I am NEVER abandoning this story. ✊😖❤️ It’s literally going to be my magnum opus. Now—I KNOW authors say that all the time and then become little lying liars who lie—BUT unlike them, I am writing this dream fix it fic specifically for ME. 😂❤️ So the only way I can have the story of my dreams is to FINISH this things someday. So I hope that eases your worries. Lol. 💕

And awwwww! 🥰🥰🥰💕💕💕 Thank you SO, so much for your kind words about my story and writing! It means the world to me that my fic seems to stand out on A03 and Wattpad to a lot of SW fans. Haha.

And thank you SO much for your compliments on how I’m writing Melakin’s developing slow burn/relationship and in their separate character arcs. It was really important to me that Anakin and Melanie weren’t just getting together to get TOGETHER. I like my stories to mean something, and if you’ve read my other meta posts, then you’ll know that Melakin’s romantic relationship has actually been PURPOSEFULLY paralleled with Anidala, to show the difference between how someone you love can actually make you grow to be BETTER, instead of a relationship where they both enable each other’s worst tendencies (even though the love may have been genuine).

But yeah, it was REALLY important to me that their slow burn was actually REALISTIC, because yes, I’ll admit some slow burns keep the two people apart for way longer than necessary just to have drama. But for Melakin, there’s just SO many reasons they can’t get together yet (ie; the Anidala secret marriage, Melanie’s lingering terror of Anakin, Anakin and Melanie still being barely even friends, and also Anakin’s future moral decay that Melanie remains at the same time disgusted by while trying to stop it from happening), so it makes the slow burn more genuine to me. Their relationship develops the more their CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT develops.

But anyway! You’ll be happy to know that I’ve COMPLETELY FINISHED all of my original scenes for my next chapter! 😊💕 So now—I only have to follow the transcript of TCW episode and write out the actual EPISODE STORYLINE—which will be WAY easier and shouldn’t take as long as before.

I’m not making any promises—but I’m AIMING for a new posted chapter in sometime in the next two weeks. So… just a heads up with that. ❤️❤️💕✨

Thanks so very much again for the ask, dear reader! 😊✨💕 It made my week. Haha.

Until next time! ✨❤️

-

To any new readers that stumble across this and are curious enough to check out my fic:

Tags:

@ensomniaa

@heartfairy

@fangirlteallie

@lemons-2-limes

@shoniwake

[slen-tiid-vo]

NSFW headcanons for a few characters

Contains brynjolf, ulfric, rikke, karliah, serana, Astrid, miraak, and teldryn

Brynjolf

Whats the opposite of a power bottom? Fuck it, a Brynjolf is the opposite of a power bottom. This man takes the reins, but he's going wherever the fuck his partner points, you feel me? Brynjolf is the kind of guy who gets so into being on top/dominate, that he circles back around into this odd type of submission. Loses all control even if he, technically, is the one in control.

Boy's got a knack with his fingers and hands that would make Dibella damn proud of him.

Favors slow, sensual encounters. Brynjolf would rather have a deeply erotic, charged moment full of intimacy and sensuality, than actually have sex. The anticipation is addictive to him. He can do something rougher, and with enthusiasm, but those long, drawn out, torturously slow affairs rewrites his brain chemistry.

Ulfric

Has fucked one person, in his whole life, and has no intention of ever doing so again. It was a girl he fell in love with in the Legion, and they planned to marry after it was all over. Well. "Over" never came, and she sided with the Legion. He still thinks of her, and misses her.

When he was with her, his greatest asset was his voice; he was a sweet talker who didn't shut up, and she loved his deep voice and thick accent right in her ear. The voice is still an allure, but only if you can get him talking, now. Would be much more reserved in bed these days

Eats pussy but the beard is...an acquired taste

Rikke

Has done damage with those thighs in and out of the bedroom, first of all

Had the drive of a saber cat in heat when she was younger. Now, she just has the ferocity, and none of it translates in bed. If she has the time, and is that desperate, to hook up, wants it done quickly and efficiently. Its like a trip to the healer rather than something to enjoy

Has fantasies of clothed sex, or fucking in a wide open space where anyone could see if they walked in. Would never act on it

Has a thing for babblers

Miraak

This is an endurance test, and not just because of what he's packing. Dragonborn stamina is...well. Dragons do their thing one way, humans do theirs another. Dragon stamina is not in the same ballpark as human.

Honestly, not very good at sex. He never learned how to use his dick beyond what felt good for him. Never learned how to use his hands or mouth for a similar reason. He's open to learning, but...he might be pissy about the whole "You're not very good at this" thing. Sensitive in more ways than one.

Karliah

Used to routinely attend what was, essentially, a strip club with Gallus for date nights. They both enjoyed the pageantry, and the shamelessness of it did a lot for her, being a reserved person.

Still enjoys such shows, but hasn't attended one since.

Used to enjoy public sex, right under everyone's noses. Or above on the rooftops. Or under bridges. In a tree, once

Serana

Ace lesbian argue with the wall

Has a soft spot for orc ladies. Real big soft spot. She likes a big teddy bear lady who can turn into a grizzly if need be. And a nice pair of arms...woof

Occasionally 'window shops' dudes and has a tier list of which men from every local faction she finds attractive. Arnbjorn from the Dark Brotherhood is at the very bottom, thinks he smells so fucking bad. The top? Viarmo at the Bards' College. A classy gent.

Would kill someone if Mjoll the Lioness asked

Astrid

Carefully curated the femme fatale persona, but not that horny, actually. Arnbjorn doesn't have much drive, being too prickly of a bastard, and Astrid just finds it a chore half the time

When they do find themselves in the mood, they have to go find a fort or something in the woods. The Sanctuary echoes. There's no soundproofing. Nazir threatened to neuter Arnbjorn if it ever happened again.

Astrid doesn't give a shit but Arnbjorn does. And so, the Sanctuary can rest easy, knowing that it isn't them being kept up all night if the married couple run off together

Teldryn

So fucking picky with everything, but he's great for sizing up someone else's potential partners.

This fucker has so many requirements and hard no's. He's worse than Miraak. If their stone sign is warrior and their mother is from the ____ region and their dad is alive, hard no. That kind of thing. Has a lot of icks.

That being said, fucks like a rabbit. Hypocrite, or settling for less? You decide

Uses magic for sex and has gotten rather good with it. Has hurt himself experimenting, however

[feralstemgirl]

When do you think you’ll be able to update Rewoven? If it’s not an abandoned fic that is

It’s not, I swear!!! I’m just a slow updater and the Storm Saga turned out to be a lotttttt longer than I’d anticipated. I’m actually considering splitting it into two or three chapters when I’d originally only planned for 1.

Honestly I’m not sure when the next update will be. I tend to write non-linearly, so I have several chunks of each potential chapter fully written and other parts have only been storyboarded. I have Keep Your Friends Closer & Storm almost fully written but still a ton to write for Luck Runs Out. Once I get Luck Runs Out done, I’ll probably post an estimated update date since after that I’ll just need to do final edits and have my beta to look it over.

To help tide ya over, here’s a tiny snippet (that still might end up scrapped or seriously reworked since I’m still actively working on it) from early on in ch. 4:

***

“Good job, kid,” Eury says as they finish setting up the tent. “That’s the last one.” 

Percy shyly smiles up at him. “Now what?” he asks. 

He’s never gotten to go camping before. Mom always said they’d go when he was older, and Smelly Gabe always complained about him and Mom going to Montauk, there’s no way he’d be okay with them leaving for another weekend (and there was no way Percy was giving up Montauk for camping, even if it did sound fun). 

Well, now Percy gets to go camping (even if he does miss his Mom lots, but at least everyone here [Ody and his crew] has been really nice to him, which is much better than Smelly Gabe). Eury even taught him how to set up the tents

“Now, we go and find the Captain,” Eury says. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving, and I’m sure he is too.” 

Percy nods. He is hungry. (And tired. Even though he slept earlier on the boat, he’s still super tired).

Without thinking, he reaches for [to hold/grab] Eury’s hand.

[Eury doesn’t react at first and Percy is about to yank his hand back and apologize when Eury finally returns the grip] <- kind of awkward, should I try and rewrite or should I just freeze it and not have Percy notice Eurylochus was surprised by it?

***

[elliethejellie]

I am so, so sorry to do this to y'all

I am putting The LoveBug Virus on HIATUS until I can get my brain to work properly for the story-

Listen, I know y'all love it, and I do, too. But I feel like I started off writing something with so much potential and then it just... fell off because I got obsessed with writing TMTB. So! I am going to be focusing on a...

drumroll please..

REWRITE!!!

And it's going to be in third person past tense probably because I'm just so much better at writing that hahah

So!! Mark it on your calendars, people!!

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 13TH!!!

In the meantime, go read TMTB!! I prommie its good, and you can see that I do have better writing skills-

Until then, I hope you stick around because I've got big things planned for y'all with those silly little jester bois heheheh

EDIT- ASKS ARE OPEN FOR THE CAST OF THIS STORY!! SEE THE POST ABOUT IT HERE.

In the meantime, here's a little snippet (under the cut) of what The LoveBug Virus could be like, if I actually applied myself properly:

Click, click, click.

The familiar soft mechanical whirs reminiscent of a heartbeat slowly brought Y/N back to consciousness. She didn't open her eyes, merely continued lying where she was, sleepily focusing on her other senses. She could feel the soft plush of a blanket on her skin - along with the silky smooth warmth of metal beneath her. The scent of lavender with notes of lemon reached her nose, and the faint taste of blueberry was on her tongue. Why did she taste blueberry? Her mind searched lazily for the memories of her time before she fell asleep, trying to discover anything that would allow her to piece together the various sensations she could feel. Her mind threw only one thing her way.

The Moondrop candy.

Y/N finally allowed her eyes to flutter open, trying her best to keep her breath slow as to not disturb the animatronic she somehow knew was in rest mode beneath her. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting from the string lights on the walls, bringing Moon's room into view. Slowly, carefully, she lifted her head.

The small of Y/N's back ached, along with her wrists and neck. She couldn't remember how she had gotten in the blue room, lying with Moon in his bed. The last thing she remembered was trying to leave at the end of her shift. Sun was complaining... Something about Moon wanting to say goodbye? She remembered switching the lights and... Yawning? Moon had said something about her being tired, maybe?

Y/N sat up the rest of the way and froze as the sound of metal shifting sounded to her left. Her eyes darted to Moon's body, but his eyes remained lifeless - a dark void of nothingness. She looked to her left and felt her blood run cold.

Her wrist was shackled to the bed.

Panic bubbled in the pit of Y/N's stomach. How had she gotten here? Was this Moon's doing? If it was, why would he do something like this? Was it just another one of his little games that didn't always go as planned?

She lifted her wrist up to examine the bracelet. Where had Moon even gotten a hold of something like this?

Ding.

The sound of Y/N's phone getting a message pulled her from her thoughts. She looked around the dimly lit room from where she sat, but couldn't see where the phone was.

Apparently, Moon also heard the notification. His fans slowly whirred to life as his red irises flickered on. He glanced up at his beloved, his smile somehow deepening as he made eye contact with her horrified expression.

"Starlight, you're awake," he said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Y/N's midsection. She flinched at the touch, which only garnered a chuckle from the lunar animatronic. "Bit jumpy, are we?" he mused.

"Moon, what's going on? How did I get up here?" she asked, fear rather evident in her tone. Moon nuzzled his faceplate into her shoulder as he answered.

"You needed sleep. So I put you to bed." The simplicity in his statement only heightened Y/N's unease.

"Moon, you know what I mean," she said slowly, lifting her shackled wrist up. The blue jester rolled his eyes and leaned backwards, pulling Y/N with him so they were lying down again. She yelped as they hit the bed, even though Moon was careful not to let her head hit him or the wall on the way down.

"So you wouldn't leave," he said quietly, still talking into her shoulder. Y/N was too afraid to move as she waited to see if he would elaborate, her breath choppy as her heart raced in her chest. She was suddenly acutely aware of every little twitch and click of Moon's body as he hugged her closer. She didn't know why, but tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Somehow, she knew this would happen. She knew something was wrong. Everything the twins had said to her in the past week was beginning to fall into place. This wasn't supposed to be what happened. She had just wanted them to love her.

But not like this.

Y/N sniffed, biting her lip to try her hardest not to cry. But Moon wasn't stupid. He lifted his head and tilted it to the side as a tear slid down her cheek. He shifted, bringing his hand up to swipe the tear away.

"Please stop crying," he said softly. Affectionately. He sounded so positively in love with her. It was... so...

Wrong.

"You're making us feel even worse," he continued, sounding a little more desperate as another tear slipped from Y/N's eyes. "You have to understand, Starlight, please."

Y/N turned away from his touch, and Moon's grip on her waist tightened.

"If we didn't keep you here and chained to the bed, you would have tried to run away again."

Taglist peeps bc you deserve to know whats goin on: @senyahgirl @rose-blot @sunyandmony

[justabigoldnerd]

Rules: post a kiss from any of your OCs/WIPs. Any kiss, from familial, pecks on the cheek, kisses on the forehead, to full blown steamy make-outs

It's Friday again!! Here are all the kisses in what was my favorite fic I wrote for a long time 💕 I would love to rewrite this one from scratch because I know I've improved so much! I still love it and the concept, though 💕💕💕💕

"Grounded And Giving And Darkening Scorn"

1.

Gaby woke up next, summoned from sleep by the smell of coffee. He watched as she came to the same conclusion he had, then gathered the blanket and draped it lovingly over Illya's sleeping form. A few months ago, the action would've caused the KGB agent to startle awake, ready to fight off an attack. But now, a routine had formed, and even Gaby pressing a soft kiss to his temple didn't stir him. He felt safe in their presence.

2.

"Cowboy," Illya whispered, his hand sliding up Solo's leg and resting on his thigh. Solo looked down, then back up at Illya, his brow furrowed. Illya inched closer, very nearly brushing his lips to Solo's. Solo pulled away, one of his hands moving to Illya's chest. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-" Illya stammered, putting space between them again. Solo shook his head and grasped Illya's wrist, returning his hand to his thigh and encouraging it to move to his waist. "I'm not going to run from you," he decided, past the hammering in his heart. With a small exhale, Illya rose up and pressed their lips together in a soft, desperate kiss. Beneath the vodka from the stitches, Solo found that he was right; he did taste like chamomile. Solo trailed after him when the kiss broke, and for a couple precious moments, they just sat there, enveloped in each other's energy.

3.

The shaking slowed, and Illya placed one of his hands over hers. "I…" he started, then shook his head, the English words too difficult to say, "Vpervyye ya ne khochu umirat'. Ya lyublyu vas oboikh. Pozhaluysta, podozhdi menya." "You won't die, Peril," Solo comforted, cupping his face in his hand. "We love you, too," Gaby leaned forward and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

4.

Solo picked up another knight piece from Illya's chess board and folded it into Gaby's hand, just like she had done. "If- When," he corrected himself, "-he comes back, tell him how you feel. I'm okay with it if he is." Gaby gaped at him in wonder. Then she grabbed his face, eyes sparkling, and announced, "I love you so much," before pulling him to her and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

5.

The two fell silent, the only sound in the echoing bathroom was the still-running shower. It was warm, now, thanks to Gaby, and Illya's shivering had calmed considerably. Solo carefully took his hand, being sure to not brush the stitches in his palm. After a few minutes of quiet, Solo heard Gaby sigh softly and whisper something in…over the water running, Solo couldn't actually tell if it was German or Russian. Whatever she said made Illya pick his head up slightly and look at her. He watched her lips move as her fingers gracefully brushed Illya's cheek, turning his head to face her. Illya whispered something back, and his eyes closed tightly.  Gaby studied his face for a moment, then, with water streaming down their faces, she closed the distance between them with a slow, chaste kiss. Solo noticed with a smile that the shaking in Illya's hands had stopped completely.  When they parted, Solo quipped, "Was that planned? Because it was very 'Singin' In The Rain'" 

6.

"At least put down towel, please," Illya's voice came from the armchair where he had closed his book and was watching them with a warm smile. Solo matched his smile and walked over, greeting him with a kiss, "I will, I promise. Waverly is coming over for dinner. He says he has 'excellent news'." Gaby groaned loudly, "I hope it is actually good news and not just another boring mission."

7.

Illya failed to suppress a laugh, and tried to hide it behind a cough. Solo reached over and plucked the book he definitely wasn't reading anymore from his hands. "How's your palm, today?" "Healing. Slowly," Illya smiled, showing him the small strip of scabbing in the center of the long slash of raised pink skin. The cut on his face had healed well, leaving a barely visible scar, but the one on his hand kept opening from use, so it was taking longer and was sure to be a permanent reminder of Minsk. Solo inspected the wound and hummed in approval before lacing their fingers together and lifting Illya's hand to kiss his knuckles. A beautiful shade of pink spread across his face and settled in his ears, making Solo grin. "You are still so easy to fluster," Solo purred, tilting his head towards Illya.

8.

"I need to go to bed," she rasped, rubbing her eyes, "Good night, Solo." Gaby kissed Solo on the cheek, then peeled herself off of the couch. Then she stumbled over to Illya and turned his face to her. "Good night, Illya," she whispered before kissing him so deeply that his pen clattered onto the coffee table. "Good night, little chop-shop girl," he breathed, a lovely smile breaking through.

Open Tag for anyone who wants to join!!!

[dragynkeep]

Some rewrite ideas that I thought could help keep Salem consistent: She and Ozpin have been in what is essentially a stalemate for the past century. They’re both immortal, and have lifespans upon lifespans to make their moves. Any premature strike on one of their parts could mean they lose. Consequently, they are both highly cautious and slow to act.

Humanity isn’t completely divided, but it’s not unified enough. There’s a constant push and pull between them, yet neither is so satisfied with the current state as to make their final move.

Salem almost has it easier; she doesn’t have to restart every 50-70 years like Ozpin. But she’s a bit more of a glass cannon, what with her weakness to the Silver Eyes. So her bursts of activity are mainly dedicated to culling the SEW, and it’s been largely successful. Silver-eyed children are unlucky, haven’t you heard? Rumored to attract Grimm. Maybe more than one struggling family in a rural village just couldn’t deal with the ostracism from the rest of their neighbors (because eventually they won’t be able to keep going. you can’t hack it on your own in Remnant). That successful doctor from Atlas can give their child a better life. That woman in red from the city, she has silver eyes too (contact lenses); she’ll care for your son because she understands. And in cities, well. People disappear all the time.

That Summer and Maria have lived long enough to become Hunters is impressive, but their careers were both cut short, and Maria was the lucky one of the two.

Ruby coming to Beacon is nothing short of earthshattering. Taiyang and Qrow kept her safe and thriving, but her Hunter aspirations are dangerous. If she ends up unleashing her power by accident, if the wrong people see, then she’s not safe anymore. All it takes is one wrong move. So she goes to Beacon, and Ozpin sees her silver eyes Summer’s eyes Tedrah’s eyes Cobal Indio Laven’s eyes and a dozen others he still remembers by name and her stubborn hope and realizes he can’t be so complacent anymore.

And a year later at the Vytal festival, a student from Haven named Cinder sees her silver eyes and realizes Salem needs to know about this. And then Salem finally stirs, for once and for all.

Of course some of the background information about Salem’s quiet war against the SEW can’t be stated from the beginning, but it doesn’t have to be. Just have some people quietly mention the superstition that silver eyes are a bad omen. Have Ruby mention how she was homeschooled as a kid. How she always wore sunglasses in public; sensitive eyes and all that. Her dad was sooo overprotective, haha!

Honestly I barely need to change anything. All I need to do is actually flat-out state some stuff. I came up with this in like. A half hour. I think I even managed to work in the “simple soul” idea to a good extent. But what do I know? I’m not a writer on RWBY.

honestly this was so good to read & really does show like what you said in that so little is needed to change to actually have some of these storylines make sense. & having some of this background decisions under wraps could very much be crwby's "plan" also but unlike this fantastic ask, we don't even get the bare minimum. people are still scrambling even now to come up with a justification for why salem has done sweet fuck all even at times of high probability that she would've steamrolled the good guys like in the colour war.

i did also love the tidbit of children going missing because it was just so subtly haunting & horrifying, all these silver eyed children have gone missing & there's no accountability to it because that's just the world they're in. love me some horror like that.

[miabrown007]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I have been tagged for this by an astonishing amount of people, thank you for thinking of me @chocoluckchipz @ladyofthenoodle @kasienda @rosie-b and @burntwaffle12! 💜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

58 (+ 1 in hiding because past me couldn't handle having unfinished fics fdgh)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

333,162 words (+ about 80k of heist AU will be joining this slowly)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Miraculous Ladybug (I have fics for Harry Potter and The Inheritance Games but I don't really consider myself someone who actively writes for those fandom)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Hiding in Plain Sight

don't ask questions you don't wanna know

seven is my lucky number

Save You a Seat

17 days, 2 hours and some odd minutes

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I wrote all that and someone decided to write back and discuss it with me? of course I will!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmm, maybe hold your friends close (but your enemies closer)? but I do regularly get yelled at when someone at the Writers Guild remembers the flowers that we've grown together, so that's a win too

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably seven is my lucky number with the sappiest-happiest ending. though the ending that makes me the happiest must be that of Felonies and Other Love Languages

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really *knocks on wood*

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

no because I'm a coward 😭 (also writing smut is so hard! though it is known that ace people write the best, so maybe I'm naturally talented and just don't know it)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

not really. in Lost & Found the Teen Titans kind of adopt Adrien but they don't have dialogue because it's not a proper crossover. similarly, in Fighting Dragons with You Cedric Diggory is mentioned and Dramione is canon (to me), but all of that has zero impact on the plot

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, a few to Russian

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes, I tried it a couple times, but only one fic of those did we ever finish.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

love-square!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

fdgfhj all of my WIPs at the moment? 😂 honestly it would be so nice to have (no one can) rewrite the stars finished (that's my hidden fic, ladrien dating/marichat soulmates), but I don't think I'll ever be excited about it enough again to go back and rewrite the 20k chilling in my docs that I planned to do after realizing the current setup wasn't the best it could be

16. What are your writing strengths?

planning, keeping details in check. I usually tinker enough with details that there's not many inconsistencies left. also, I think I'm good with dialogue and usually with the pacing of information

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

not stressing over how something is phrased and putting down actual words instead. it makes writing so excruciatingly slow and sometimes stressful that I want to get things perfect. also, descriptions are so hard, because I don't want to describe things plainly or in a dull way, but finding interesting ways takes a lot of effort.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have done it, but honestly most of the time you're probably better off using italics.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Felonies and Other Love Languages <333

tagging @valiantlyjollynightmare @noirshitsuji @sunfoxfic @peachcitt @anna-scribbles if you feel like playing <3

[animethottywithnobody]

“Sit. Don’t move.”

~ Kenma x Cockwarming

CW: nsfw, dom! Kenma, sub! reader, black-coded reader, afab reader, pet names are used, mention of punishments 

WC: 1.1k

Synopsis: Kenma doesn’t like doing too much work or being disturbed when he actually decided to do it. So when you bring up an idea that lets him do his work and not have to do much to please you, he agrees to try it since it’s a win-win situation. Too bad it doesn’t stay that way for long. 

AN: Was this rushed because I really wanted to get day two out before midnight? yes. I’m so sorry this one was late but today was a very wild day for me so I didn’t get the chance to work on it like I really wanted to. This one is a rewrite as well and will be having a part two so stay tuned and enjoy!

❗️minors & blank blogs DNI❗️

Second Person Pov

“You just… sit on it.” You nod softly though he isn’t watching you since he’s typing away on an essay he has due in four days. “And you don’t move.” You nod again with a small smile growing on your face since you can tell he’s thinking about the plan you’re proposing to him. “And I don’t have to move either.” This time he looks at you, finally able to see the giant smile you wear as you nod eagerly. 

“Yup! That’s what cockwarming is Kozu.” Your eyes are hopeful that your boyfriend is going to take your idea into consideration since he doesn’t have too much of a reason to really disagree. 

Kenma works a lot and he doesn’t like being distracted because he says it ‘ruins his workflow’ and that he ‘can’t get back to work properly after’. He still gives you attention but sometimes when you desperately need it, he’s really busy and you don’t want to break him away from his work especially since he doesn’t understand the desperation since he isn’t as affectionate as you are. You looked all over for things to satisfy both people and cockwarming seemed like the best option. So good that you’ve been spending fifteen minutes trying to convince your intelligent and moody boyfriend of the same thing. 

He stops typing for a bit before he nods his head slowly in understanding. “How long has that idea been sitting in that pretty head of yours?” He glances at you slightly with a small smirk before he goes back to work. The glance was one way he shows you that he’s interested in something or that he’s still listening, in this case, both things simultaneously. 

You giggle shyly as you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet. “For a little while now but I had to bring it to you the right way, ya know?” You reach out and play with his hair softly, watching him relax in your touch a bit. “It’s a pretty good idea, right? You still get to do everything you have to do and I get to be close to you without being a bother.”

He grabs your hand and looks up at you. “You’ve never been a bother to me.” He goes back to work as you continue playing with his hair until he stops and turns his chair to you abruptly causing you to back up in fear that you’re disturbing him. “You really want this, huh?” You nod with hopeful eyes, that grew wide when he pushes his sweatpants and underwear down to reveal that he’s semi-hard already. “Well? Get your underwear off and c’mere.”

You gladly follow his instructions before walking over to him with only one of his T-shirts on you. You lean down and kiss him gently as you whisper against his lips. “Thank you for trying this with me, I really appreciate it Kozu.” 

He smiles lazily as he pushes the shirt up a bit, exposing your pretty pussy to him. “Mm beautiful as always.” He kisses your stomach right above your belly button and looks up at you. “You know I like seeing you.” Kenma moves his hands to your waist and pulls you closer. “Now come sit on my cock so I can get back to work.”

You giggle softly with a nod and slowly straddle his waist, making sure both of you are comfortable before holding his dick and giving it slow gentle strokes. You line it up to your opening and slowly sink yourself onto him with his hands on your hips to help guide you. The two of you let out small sounds of pleasure as you take every inch of him, feeling the stretch and fulness you love.

“Fuck your so wet.” Kenma groans softly while you move a bit before he halts your movements, shaking his head. “That’s not what we agreed to do. Be a good girl and keep still.”  You pout but nod your head obediently, laying it on his shoulder as he goes back to work. 

He strokes your hair from time to time, careful not to get his fingers tangled in your curls. You kiss his neck gently and whisper words of encouragement when you feel him get tense from stress. The whole thing feels so intimate and comforting, two people feeling so close and just happy in each other’s embrace. You’re still for about thirty minutes but the want to move grows stronger as you feel him fully harden inside you. You don’t know if he’s in the mood or if it’s just a reflexive thing for his body to do but you understand it as the former.

You take this as your opportunity to please your lovely boyfriend who deserves this for working so hard. You slowly start rocking your hips back and forth and shockingly, after five minutes, he doesn’t react at all so you take that as your signal to do more. You make small circles in his lap, gripping his shirt with the pleasure you feel flowing through your body. Moans fall from your lips since he’s hitting all the right spots without actually doing anything at all. 

You did small bounces on his cock as your slick that pooled between you both makes a wet noise reverberate through the room. You’re such a desperate mess that you don’t even notice that he stops typing or that his hands ghost over your hips as if he was waiting for the right moment. You clench around him a few times causing him to grab your hips with good strength behind it. “Y/n, what are you supposed to be doing?” 

You pull back to be face to face with your stoic boyfriend while a pout decorates your face. “Keeping still.”

“And what are you not doing?” He raises his eyebrow slightly as you look down sadly. “Eyes over here.”

You look up at him and sigh softly. “Kozu, I need you so bad.” The want in your voice is heavy as the desperation in your eyes floods your face. “I need you to fuck me Kouz, I need you to fuck me now.”

Kenma is a patient and understanding man… when it comes to his beautiful girl. But though you were doing really good, you still didn’t listen to him so you have to deal with the consequences. “I’m proud of how well you did baby, but you still have to get punished since you didn’t complete the task properly.” He kisses your pouty lips softly as he taps your hips gently. “Go to the room and sit on the bed, I’ll be there in a bit.”

To not make your punishment worse, you’re going to do what you’re told. Slowly pulling up from his dick, leaving a puddle in his lap as you reluctantly make your way to the room. Kenma’s punishments always depend on what you do and his mood. You sit on the edge of the bed wondering what it’s going to be today. 

[writingjourney]

Hi, I really love your writing! :3 i hate to be a bother, but do you think you have any advice for me? I want to write some fics of my own. Short ones mostly, but I still keep running into various problems. I'm good at description and I'm decent at dialogue for the most part, but when it comes to actually moving a scene forward and making things happen, or even just moving from one scene to the next, I have absolutely no idea how to proceed. Like, everyone present at the time just ends up talking in circles without managing to say anything new or pertinent. And even when I have every major bit that I want to happen planned out, I cannot figure out how to actually get it to each point or even to A point at all. At any rate, thank you for your time, even if you don't respond to this, and I hope you have a good day/evening :)

Thank you anon ♡ Sorry I was a little busy today so I didn't have any time to properly reply until now!! You're not a bother at all, I love to talk about writing!!!! Some more in-depth thoughts below the cut :)

I definitely know what you mean. It's hard to keep scenes concise while also making sure the pacing is neither too fast nor too slow and adding the details you want in there without rambling on. Pacing depends on the scene and the story you want to tell (faster pace for action, slower pace for calmer moments, more description/longer scenes = slower pace etc etc) – you can shorten or stretch scenes as much as you want to. You definitely should be following your own style and not try to adapt to what you think a fic/story in general should look like.

That being said, I get that sometimes you want to move a scene forward and it doesn't always work out. Usually, this happens to me when I am not very excited about what's happening right now and need a change (or I don't know what happens next). You can start working on a scene that excites you more. I am a bit chaotic like that, I just write out scenes and dialogue lines and paragraphs as they come to me and then I just link them up later. You can link scenes by time-skipping, by adding some introspection, a character's observations etc. And yes, show don't tell is good advice but not every single thing always needs to be written out in detail and sometimes you just have to say that it's the next day and move on.

Or... well, you literally change the scene at hand. Have the characters get interrupted if they can't wrap up the convo, someone disturbs them, one of them realizes they have an appointment, it suddenly starts to rain – throw stuff at them that makes them become active again. Sometimes re-writing helps as well. Not editing, rewriting. Keep the OG draft but write the scene again from scratch. We get so attached to lines we've written we don't always check to see if they still fit. Push stuff around, change the order of things, just try on some changes and see if it flows nicer.

Another thing I can recommend if you want to go from BIG scene to BIG scene is to add some smaller scenes for transition. I like to do this, make the character reflect on the events while doing some menial task, have them meet someone else and have the reflection happen via conversation, have them just observe their surroundings, have them dedicate some time to their hobby – it all gives us new info about the character and it won't feel as much like BAM BAM BAM big scene after big scene. Quiet before the storm.

Now, you said you want to write short fics, so I'm not sure if you mean just drabble/ficlet type of stories or more elaborate one-shots instead of longer multi chapters like I sometimes do? The key I would say to a very short fic is to start off strong. Jump straight into the scene and don't be scared to omit the backstory and descriptions, it's hard but if you want to keep it short it's necessary to really think about which descriptions make sense. I'm not good at super short fics usually unless I'm possessed by one specific scene that doesn't need much context, so perhaps I'm not the best to ask.

For one shots with multiple shorter scenes I think you need to also just be brave and skip around. Scenes don't always need long transitions, sometimes it's a few days later when the next notable thing happens and that's where you continue. Again, I think strong scene openers really help here. Draw the reader into the next scene and they won't even notice. You can always add more description later should it feel clunky. Read the transitions aloud, that also helps to see if they flow nicely.

I hope this was any help at all. Please feel free to ask again if something is unclear, if I should go into more detail for some of it or you have any other questions :) ♡