#not only did it have barely any plot in my current outline

[best--dress]

WIP Wednesday

hi hello!

january has been destroying me. the cold, the seasonal depression, my deep feelings of inadequacy at work, and this week pms is hitting hard (on 17 degree days. whyyyy). thank magic i have the carry on fandom to burrow down into. (i am finally making a dent on my tbr <3)

I haven't been writing much because both of my current projects are at the editing stage, and who can edit when you feel this shitty? I am really really excited to have finally mostly-written a draft of chapter 5 of WAYITD, and I'm hoping to post that by the end of the month.

Here is a line from that chapter that I just adore. I wrote it and it felt like one of the trickier relationships in the fic clicked for me:

You’re one of my only girl friends

(guess who?)

And here is a little bit from chapter 6 (!!), drafted on my way home, not even typed into my document yet, it's so fresh:

"I'm sorry I'm not much of a dancer." "That's all right, I hate to dance." "Is that why you accepted this date?" "Oh, Merlin! No!"

No names because it's a secret (and it may change, lol).

sending you whatever luck and blessings you need this week: @facewithoutheart, @thewholelemon, @ileadacharmedlife, @martsonmars, @youarenevertooold, @rimeswithpurple, @aristocratic-otter, @leithillustration, @iamamythologicalcreature, @alexalexinii, @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @artsyunderstudy, @mooncello, @onepintobean, @emeryhall, @arthurkko, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @monbons, @ic3-que3n, @roomwithanopenfire, @blackberrysummerblog, @bookish-bogwitch

[haine-kleine]

what I find the most annoying about s2's drop in quality is not even the disservice done to the characters and the story of s1 but how the writers weaponized fanon and it actually WORKED. all the things fans wanted to see are there - the found family themes, Caitvi, Jinx's healing and joining the 'good guys', Viktor coming out of Jayce's shadow and doing his thing, Mel going from a damsel in distress to a badass mvp, Jayvik, Timebomb, did I mention Caitvi,...

but here's the thing: while all of those things do indeed happen, they happen with minimal or no development at all. this is why on a closer inspection s2 feels like fanfiction, and for an official show that's a bad thing. not because fanfiction in itself is bad, or that fulfilling fan's wishes is inherently bad, but because fanfiction is commonly motivated by self-indulgence. we take the characters we like and put them into situations we want to see them in. in fanfiction there's no strict need to development, you can do whatever you want with the characters and no one is there to stop you. if the character in the show ends up in point b, a fanfiction writer has no obligation to outline how they get to point c, they can just start with the character where they want them to be.

but fanfiction rules only work for fanfiction. when you write your original show which painstakingly developed each and every character and throw them around like chess figurines where you need them to be, this breaks the suspension of disbelief. I spent my s2 watch from act 2 onwards with that feeling. all the development is neatly cut out and the characters go to the points they are supposed to go with barely any work of the writers involved.

Jinx is supposed to be more mentally stable and become responsible? a child literally drops on her head and immediately becomes obsessed with her. Ekko is supposed to forgive Jinx and see past her current unstable, destructive self? he is transported to a canon divergent!au with the singular purpose of hanging out with au!mentally stable!Powder. there's no development of his relationship with Jinx afterwards, all we get is a beginning of a conversation and the next time we see them they are suddenly besties/in love/option c. Jayce needs to kill Viktor and so he does, his reasoning? the visions from the alternate universe™ told him to. how awfully convenient. how does Viktor himself go from a good hearted, motivated to help others but keenly critical of his and Jayce's methods man from s1 to a crazy messiah who watched The end of Evangelion too much? the visions from the hexcore are controlling him! i can't even.

the problem is not even the (bad) direction the story took a deep dive towards but the execution. they barely bother to develop the characters and when they do at all, they use the cheapest tricks, heavily sprinkling fanservice on top so that people don't pay too much attention. the worst victim of this writing is Vi, who is such a non-character that after her failure in act1 she literally has to be dragged around by Jinx or Caitlyn. the same girl whose single-minded motivation to find her sister sparked half of the s1 plot. and now she lets her sister go kill herself because the writers want her to have hot lesbian sex with Caitlyn. who went from a good-hearted but naive and privileged girl to fascist war criminal and then back to a good guy and the only way the could show this development of hers is throw Vi at her like they are dolls and making them kiss.

in conclusion, theoretically, disappointingly, from the characters' development standpoint, s2 has pretty much everything we could wish for after s1. unfortunately, the level of writing execution equates to turning off sim's freedom of will and manually making them do everything that would make fans happy.

and if I wanted that, I would just go to ao3.

[distracteddream]

Okay, since it’s International Talk like a Pirate Day, I’m sharing the first bit of my Lokius pirate AU here. I meant for this to be a quick thing to write, but then Plot happened. Anyways, enjoy this teaser!

I Won’t Lead and You Won’t Follow

The sound of Mobius’ boot heels echoed as he carefully trod down the steps to the dungeon. The captain of the Timely Ventures Associates’ flagship hated coming down to the fort’s lower levels. It was permanently damp and what windows there were in the stone walls were too small for fresh air or more than a sliver of daylight. As a consequence, smoke from the necessary torches hung heavy in the air, choking what light they provided for those who had reason to make the trek to where the prisoners were held.

He wouldn’t have come down to the dungeon without good reason and unfortunately, the captain had an excellent reason on that day.

Mobius stopped in front of one of the cells, the only one currently occupied. The torchlight barely penetrated into the darkness beyond the bars, but a shift of heavy chains told him the captive knew he was there.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Mobius asked conversationally. “When Casey told me to come down here and see what we caught, I never imagined it would be you.” Mobius crossed his arms, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light within the cell. He could barely make out the faint outline of the prisoner against the wall, the length of chain he could see lax. Slowly, the shape of the man within became visible, separating from the deeper darkness around it.

Even without the foreknowledge, Mobius would have known him anywhere. The captain had spent years chasing the pirate who most people considered no more than a ghost. He was a mere spectre who came and went with the tides, never leaving any tangible signs he existed when the winds changed. Mobius knew he was real though. He’d come close enough to almost touch the pirate a few times and every time, he’d slipped through Mobius’ fingers like the phantom the rumors claimed he was. It was maddening and Mobius was rational enough to realize capturing the pirate was verging on an obsession.

Which was probably what had really led him to the dungeons that day.

A low chuckle came from the back of the cell. “Just what I needed to make things worse. Come to pour salt on my wounds, Mobius?”

The captain would like to have said that the voice emanating from the shadows didn’t pour through him like warm honey. He’d heard it in so many ways over the years of their chase: conversationally when their captive was trying to talk his way out of trouble, yelling obscenities at Mobius and the crew of his ship, the Resolute, across the waves, whispering lowly in alleys of schemes and mischief. Once, he’d heard Loki singing in a tavern, an old song of home in an even older language. Mobius enjoyed that voice, even when it was damning him to hell, but he’d never tell anyone that. Not even the preacher who occasionally endeavored to save Mobius’ soul.

“No. Not this time.” Mobius grabbed a stool the guard had left outside the cell and sat. For as long as they’d been doing this dance, Mobius had never approached the pirate without a weapon in his hand. This time, he kept his sword in its scabbard and his pistol holstered. Perhaps if he didn’t start on a defensive footing, the prisoner would be more amenable to listening to what Mobius had to say. “I’ve come to talk.”

The chains within rattled, the captive evidently taking his time to respond. Mobius didn’t mind. He could wait the prisoner out if need be. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have experience in waiting for the pirate after all.

“And just what would you have to talk to me about?”

The prisoner’s suspicion was justified. They did have him restrained after all. And they both knew Mobius wasn’t the one who typically conducted interrogations, if one was deigned to be granted. Those accused of piracy were rarely given the chance to explain themselves. A quick trial, one the accused didn’t actually need to be present for, and a short drop - that was often the best someone in his captive’s position could expect.

Mobius had a better offer. He hoped so at least. He simply had to entice the pirate to accept it.

“Where’s the treasure, Loki?” the captain asked.

The chain clattered on the stone, two long legs materializing from the inky dark to cross casually at the ankles. It couldn’t have been comfortable, the iron shackles above his feet knocking together, but Mobius was relieved the guards had at least left Loki’s boots on. The voice issuing from the dark this time was mocking. Mobius had heard that before, too.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did you get too much sun today?”

Mobius sighed and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “C’mon. The TVA just wants its property back.”

Metal on metal clanked noisily as Loki moved. Mobius realized he didn’t ask Casey if Loki had the four- or the five-point restraints on. That hidden part of Mobius, the one that would have admitted how much he enjoyed hearing Loki’s voice or just how well he knew the shape of Loki, hoped it was four. Mobius hated the idea of cold rusted iron around Loki’s throat.

“To do what with it, hm?” Loki asked.

Mobius knew, as with any pirate, Loki and his crew considered anything that could be taken, anything that they stole, to be theirs forever more. They would never willingly give back any property, regardless of who it had belonged to. Loki, however, always seemed to have a singular focus with his targets. Since trying to bring the pirate to justice, Mobius had studied each reported encounter with Loki. Aside from a few low-stakes plunders when he was younger, Loki only attacked Timely Ventures Association ships. He only stole Timely Ventures Association cargo. Mobius had wondered why but had never been in a position to ask TVA’s owner. At the end of it, Mobius’ duty didn’t require him to know why.

“It doesn’t matter what they do with it as long as my crew and I get paid when we’re due,” Mobius told him.

Loki laughed incredulously. “Right then. As long as you get yours and damn the rest of us. Do you know why the TVA needs all that silver? Do you know what the people you work for actually do out there in the real world, Mobius? Damn the rest of us, hm? Damn you! I’ve seen it! I’ve seen what happens when people like that get into power. I’ve seen how they destroy places and people and say it’s a better way of life and all they leave is despair and carnage behind.”

Mobius shook his head. This ranting was something Mobius had heard before, namely from any of Loki’s crew they’d managed to take alive over the years. They would repeat Loki’s ravings as gospel and no amount of discussion with them would change their minds - not even as they confidently strode to their deaths. Mobius himself had never witnessed any proof of Loki’s claims and frankly, he didn’t receive enough pay to contradict the TVA line either.

He did, however, get paid enough to know certain things about his prisoner.

“That’s enough of your lies, Captain Laufeyson.” Mobius sat up on the stool, affecting an unbothered air for the broadside he was about to fire. “Or should I call you Captain Odinson? Which is it?”

The chains clanged as Loki attempted to launch himself at the cell’s bars, coming to an abrupt stop when he ran out of length. The torches’ fire paled to the fury blazing in Loki’s eyes. “You shut your mouth,” the pirate snapped though it came out strangled from the iron collar digging into his throat.

Mobius didn’t flinch. He’d faced Loki’s anger before; he had the scars to prove it. Loki was one of the more dangerous pirates Mobius had dealt with because he was unpredictable, but he didn’t scare Mobius. Because Mobius had always survived his battles with Loki. Not all of his colleagues had been so lucky. That was another piece in Loki’s puzzle Mobius would have liked to have.

Perhaps now he could finally get it.

He waited until Loki seemed to calm, metal sliding against stone as Loki settled down on the floor nearer to the meager torchlight. The chains shifted, Loki having to lift both hands to rub at where the iron had pressed into his throat. If Mobius didn’t think Loki would gut anyone who came close, he might have told the guards to take the collar off. Mobius wasn’t so altruistic as to risk sacrificing people to Loki’s whims. He hated that they used that collar at all and wanted it gone. And to do so, Mobius would just have to hope Loki would hear him out.

“You’re not in a position to make demands here,” Mobius said in a gentle tone. “And lucky for you, I’m in the mood to bargain.”

The flames of the torches danced over the planes of Loki’s face as he rolled his head back and the sigh Loki gave him sounded like it had centuries of weariness behind it. “I have nothing you want.”

“You have knowledge.” Loki scoffed but Mobius was undeterred. He didn’t come to the dungeons to give up on this idea. “If you don’t have the treasure, then help me find who does. I know you can.”

“Your faith in me may be misplaced.”

It wasn’t an immediate no. Mobius waited. If there was one thing a sailor knew, it was patience.

Loki pursed his lips, eyes cutting to Mobius. “And what do I get in return?”

Mobius spread his hands out. “Your freedom.”

“I have that already.”

“Had,” Mobius pointed out.

“Ha!” Loki spat out a mocking laugh. Mobius tamped down on the shiver Loki’s sharp grin sent down his spine. Loki held up his hands, the chain between them tugging on the chain connected to the collar around his throat. “You think your chains will hold me much longer? I’ve escaped better places. I’ll be gone in the morning.”

Mobius didn’t doubt him. It’s why he’d come as soon as he’d put to port and heard Loki was in the dungeon. Loki and prisons were a relationship that never lasted. If Mobius had any chance of success, he’d known he didn’t have much time.

“If you say so.” Mobius shrugged and pushed himself to his feet. Loki watched each movement from his spot on the floor. Mobius stepped closer to the cell door, well within striking distance if Loki had had just a few more inches of chain. “I hear the rats get rather bold at night. Might want to tuck your feet in tight if you’re still here.”

Mobius tapped the bars and turned. He got as far as the first step before he heard the chains behind him.

“Wait,” the pirate called and Mobius paused. “Wait, wait, wait. Fine.” Mobius pivoted to face Loki, and suddenly found himself trying not to lose focus at the sight of Loki kneeling in his restraints. “Fine. I’ll help you. It won’t do any good but I’ll do what I can.”

Mobius didn’t move, waiting for the trick. “And you’re not going to attack me the minute I turn you loose?”

It should have been impossible for Loki to look offended in that position and yet it seemed Loki still had some surprises up his sleeves for Mobius to discover.

“That’s not my style.”

“That is exactly your style.” Mobius withdrew his foot from the lowest step and crossed back to Loki’s cell. “Swear to me you won’t betray me the first chance you get.”

Loki shook his head. “You want me to swear? Are you in such dire straits that you’d take my word as bond?”

“Your word is all you have right now, Loki.” Loki’s eyes narrowed on him but Mobius wouldn’t back down. “So will you help me?”

He wasn’t sure what thoughts went through Loki’s head. How quickly he could free himself without Mobius letting him go? How he would betray Mobius in the end? How Mobius was an idiot for trusting him? Maybe all that and more.

Loki tossed his head back, a hard look in his eyes as he proudly lifted his chin. “Aye. I’ll help you find your treasure. Without the betrayal.”

Mobius grinned slowly, grabbing the cell’s keys from the wall. “See? I knew you weren’t all bad.”

[thekingofthenameless]

Hey Joy.

I'm sorry you got into another argument with someone about TKN. I'm sorry they made you feel discouraged and insecure. You deserve to be cheered on and helped when you request feedback.

You did not ask for my advice but all your stuff lands on my dash, so here goes a couple things:

Write for yourself, not for other people's tastes. In my experience, when you bring other people in to brainstorm about your story, those people will naturally fill the world up with THEIR headcanons. That is just something completely neutral that happens. You have got to find your own ideas, and stick to them. This is YOUR story, and it goes how YOU want it. Be specific. Take suggestions, but be clear on what's going to happen and what's not going to happen. Sift through the idea pool, keep what's good (that which gets you unstuck & passionate) and dismiss the rest, saying, "fantastic idea but this doesn't work for me". You are the director. Don't argue about "objective correctness" in your fantasy novel because there is none. You make the rules, but they are currently forcing their preferred view of how that story should go on you. Don't let them.

Whoever "sense of pizazzz" is, you gotta stop talking to them about your writing. D&D is a game. You are an author. There are a hundred different ways to play that game and a thousand different ways to write a plot. You are not required to have worldbuilding figured out before the characters, or the action. That is one approach of infinite ones that may happen to work for that user, but not for you. They cannot force you to use their approach and tell you that you're wrong. Again, there are no rules in writing. You could finish the whole plot and never specify a location or culture. On the other hand, if you are asking someone for advice, be prepared to give enough context for them to work with.

As much as I like you, please stop posting screenshots of your entire arguments on your blog immediately just to prove your point. That is a shitty ass move on your part. You can say that you feel hurt. Go on, rant at your followers all you need to, we're here for you. But do not expose other people's negativity for the sake of painting them as bad. Don't gossip and talk shit about them behind their back. Protect them, they are your buddies and they have taken the time to try and help you. This isn't fair on them.

So in short, more confidence babeyyyy, and less comparison, keep accepting help if you want to but stop letting others direct your movie, maybe don't talk to others about worldbuilding anymore because Wikipedia is your friend, and don't shit talk your mutuals.

Keep cruising!

The arguments I get into are always with the same person. This always happens.

I can’t even write right now. I can’t look at the doc of Merlin and Charlie’s third first meeting without feeling shitty. I just keep doubting myself because of that comment yesterday. “With how you write toddlers” thanks.

I’m trying to. But I always need validation for everything I fucking do; I always have to bring people in, because my self esteem is shit, and I’m indecisive as fuck. I don’t want this. But it’s why I post polls, and it’s why I retcon lore constantly (“Which becomes outdated in a matter of minutes because you can think faster than you post”). That quote was in response to me saying TKN isn’t just in my head, actually, because I post my writing. I don’t know what’s going to happen in TKN. I barely have any outline, so I can’t really do that except for when I’m absolutely certain.

“Sense of Pizzazz” is my boyfriend, like I said in the last ask. That’s a stupid nickname I gave him. This has been happening for months. One time I talked about TKN so much that he asked for a break from it. “If you have (read: other) interests talk about them. It'll be a nice break from tkn. When it comes to talking about media it's literally the only one you talk about. And I don't even know if it counts as media if it technically doesn't exist yet.” At that point, I hadn’t talked about it there since the time I said I wasn’t going to until I released something. Which was almost two months, apparently. His response: “So that's why this chat hasn't talked about anything of note recently lol. Apparently the two options are tkn and radio silence”. I don’t know what happened besides me just talking too much. Back when The King of the Nameless was Emerald Embers, a shitty story with AI art that I started when I was fifteen, he was supportive. But now: “Your process for character design sucks ass ngl”- That was one segment from an argument, literally started by me saying “I kind of wish Charlie had external ears so he could have expressive ones but the boyo has none lol”. From seeing a gifset of Fink from The Wild Robot. When I said that to a different friend, he just said: “sdfhsfh yeah expressive ears are so cute 🥺”, and I felt like I was going crazy. Also according to him: My worldbuilding isn’t good enough, and my ideas don’t make sense. I’m only obsessed with Merlin. Charlie still doesn’t have a personality. To be fair… I guess… he did say that before I turned Charlie into a kid. Because of @aroace-edward-elric <3. I don’t know what he’d say now. He says that being annoying is how he shows love, and that he treats his family the same (I have seen that the few times I’ve been at his house.) But to me, it doesn’t feel like it. It just keeps happening, and happening, and happening, and maybe because I can’t read tone in text it feels more real, and unbeknownst to me, he’s just trying to make a joke, or jokingly ragging on the writing that I’ve now had for over a year. I don’t know. The one time he checks my blog was of course yesterday, and he asked me to “please don’t post our fights to the internet I don’t want my personal life on there”, but I wouldn’t just do it for no fucking reason, so I felt even shittier, and the anxiety attack I began having was still there and I didn’t know what to say. I was already tired and hadn’t written all day because I started doubting myself and then I was getting more requests. I was almost crying at that point. Then he was apologizing because he saw my post about the anxiety attack, and I still didn’t know what to say, so he texted my sister because I wasn’t answering. I still feel bad about posting some of it, but I don’t post every little thing about him, and I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t pissed so. I don’t know how to feel. yippeeeeeeeeee. I also remembered this isn’t the first time I’ve spiraled because of some way I hurt him ahaha. First time was for calling him a loser as a joking insult but he understandably didn’t want to keep being called that even he knew I didn’t mean it. …So why can’t he do that for me and TKN? He has ocs too, that he says are fully fleshed out, but he never talks about them�� and yet he rags on me. At least my sister understands the brainrot now; she even made some ocs for FMA 03 (her current hyperfixation). I invite him to talk about things I won’t know about because I want to be supportive, but he’s always like: “if you don’t know there’s not a point”. I can’t know if you don’t tell me. Same with things he says he knows I won’t be interested in… any that’s not the point. The point is I’ll still listen anyways. I have a friend whose interests are quite literally a revolving door /pos; it’s fun to listen to. I know nothing about any of them besides what she tells me, but I still listen. Because that’s what friends do. I know I should stop talking to him about it, but I can never commit to it permanently because he’s my boyfriend.

I usually don’t. I only did it once, yesterday, and I was in a bad place mentally. Still am. I gather screenshots because my anxiety says I’m a liar otherwise, and I don’t want to accidentally make things up because of my shitty memory; I’m still scared people will think the screenshots are edited and doctored! Look, I’ve ranted about this like four times. I’m not doing it for no fucking reason. I don’t post every negative thing that happens to me on the Internet. I didn’t say anything when I lost my cat who I’d had for six years, I barely talked about me getting put in a psych ward because my parents found out I had social media at nineteen years old, and I only said something when one of three people died, my coworker who I knew. The other two were my friends’ grandmothers, in about the span of a month apart. I didn’t even tell my fucking family about my coworker. I never name his blog, and his discord is a stupid nickname, not even a username. He can view my blog anytime, like he did yesterday. I don’t have fights with anyone else, okay? I barely trashed his writing; I only pointed out that we write in different formats and that he doesn’t write otherwise. I’ve told him I feel stupid for needing to be treated more gently, and look where we are.

I’m tired. I’m mentally drained. I’ve already cried several times today after I took a nap and thought I was feeling better. I got so anxious from seeing him active a couple of times on Discord that I made my status invisible.

I keep expecting things to change, but they don’t, so maybe I’m just stupid.

I never should have said anything.

Might as well link my other rants I’ve done about the subject if all I’m doing is spreading negativity, right? 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

[voxofthevoid]

Wait I— WHAT— 500k+ words for JJK? Alone? Oh my god. I’m one of your new readers, and I’m blown away by not only your word count but the wRITING LOGS?? How?? Do you keep track of your WIPs?? Do you write consistently, period?? Do you have any advice for someone who can barely squeak out a paragraph to describe a vision in their brain?? Please bless me with your skills, Vox-sensei 😭🙏

Welcome to my madness 🤣❤️

Okay, in all fairness, I'm usually not this unhinged productive. Last year, for instance, my total word count was only around 250k (iirc). I'm sure I wrote more than that from 2018 to 2020, but my logs from those are divided by fics/chapters or weekly.

... I've, uh, tried a lot of shit over the years.

Which is an important point! I've been posting to ao3 for nearly a decade now (not consistently, but I don't think I was away for more than a year or two), and I've been writing in some capacity for around 15–17 years now. There's been a lot of trial and error over the years, plus changing life circumstances leading to varying energy levels and writing time. The main factor is inspiration; if it's there, I'll write a lot, but if not, I'll be a potato.

So with all that in mind!

Logs

I do keep track of both my word count and my WIPs. I've got color-coded docs and spreadsheets even because I'm a fucking nerd. I've got pictures of it floating somewhere on this blog, but my fic folders tend to be nested, numbered little monstrosities.

WIPs

I call them WIPs sometimes because they're extensively detailed outlines mostly, but the more accurate term is ideas/plot bunniesdemons. I don't work on more than one story at a time. Typically, I start something and write it in narrative order until it's done. There are exceptions—my current fic was started in a post-236 frenzy, and I set aside the PWP I was working on for it. But usually, I only actively write one story at a time while everything else gets developed/outlined as inspiration strikes.

Consistency

You could say I write consistently, yeah! I don't do it every day because I take breaks whenever I finish a chapter (and of course, life throws curve balls sometimes), but typically, I write around 22–25 days a month. I set aside a few hours for it. Average daily word count also varies, but these days, it's 1.5–3k. When I'm really in the zone, it can reach 5–6k.

I'm a hobbyist writer with no aspirations of writing professionally, so my approach to the whole thing has been to wing it and see where it takes me. So I haven't really done anything with the concrete goal of improving. The best (and only) advice I have is very boring and cliche though: read and write.

Read widely if you can and narrow in on the kind of style and genre you like. Note down passages or turns of phrase that struck you and figure out why. You'll absorb a lot automatically, but I've heard people recommend emulating styles on purpose as a writing exercise.

Mainly though, the best and easiest way to improve is to keep writing. Technical rules can be learned pretty easily, especially with how many resources are available online now. Field/subject-specific reference materials are also abundant. But developing your own style and improving the flow of your prose are things that need practice. And it never really stops, especially because your writing will continuously evolve in more ways than one.

This got way longer than I intended. Oops? Thanks for asking though, anon. I did have fun replying!

[thevoidwatches]

The following is a long, rambling story about my difficulties writing prose fiction in the last few years. If you want to skip to the end, it's that I'm taking the plunge into writing again and have started work on a queer erotic novel currently titled Melting in her Mouth. Snippets may be forthcoming as I write.

It's been a long time since I did any creative writing - well, unless you count superhero RP servers as creative writing. Let's just say that it's been a few years since I've done any prose writing. And it's been even longer since I wrote any original prose - the last long-form thing I wrote was a MHA fanfic, Breath of Life, which has gotten one update in the last four years but which I swear I will finish some day! Before that it was a series of original superhero novels that I got two-and-a-bit books into (can you tell that I like superheroes?) called Paternum, which I'm sorry to say I probably won't be going back to. If I ever do, it'll probably be a complete rewrite as I'm no longer satisfied with the pacing of my plot outline.

In these last few years, I've done a lot of other creative stuff. I've gotten a lot better at drawing (although like most artists I'm still never satisfied with my work). I've gotten a lot better at guitar (although I'm still not brave enough to try writing my own songs). I've done a lot of gamemastering, as the aforementioned RP servers were living worlds.

Mostly, though, I did RP. I did an awful lot of it - my records (because I'm that kind of nerd) suggest something like 2 million words, as a conservative estimate. That's a hell of a lot of writing. It's likely more than all my prose put together - Paternum totals to something like 400k, Breath of Life barely tops 100k, and none of my other non-public works like the Court Magician or Ruins of the Empire match up to either in length (around 60k but finished, and only 30k and abandoned, respectively). Even my early-early works like the Family Trade and Time Until Death (abandoned in college and finished in high school) won't tip the scales. I'm not even going to count story concepts that never got off the ground, like Starlight City Champions or the Empyriad.

Given that the vast majority of my output, now, has been collaborative RP - and that all of my recent work has been - it probably shouldn't be surprising that I find myself nervous at the idea of going back to prose. I have to write the whole thing?? All by myself?!? That's scary! Not to mention that these days I'm used to long, long-form stuff - stories with no set end, designed to continue immediately.

And that, of course, is a fear of its own. It's happened to me multiple times at this point - I come up with an idea for a story and start outlining it, and the outline just... keeps going. And going. And when I finally cut it off, at what seems like a reasonable point, I realize that it's actually unreasonable long. That's why Starlight City Champions is unlikely to ever happen - I outlined 6 books, then realized that each book was likely to be at least 300k words which, at a conservative estimate of writing around 2k words a week (the rate at which I wrote Paternum), would have taken almost two decades!

But the thing is, that fear - the fear that I'll never finish anything - was pushing me to never even start anything. If I never started, I would never disappoint myself by not finishing. But... either way, I wasn't putting out anything complete.

I've made a resolution to myself - I'm going to start a story, and I'm going to finish it. I'm starting small - a romance novella - and I'm starting self-contained. No room for sequels, no big overarching plot to spiral out of control, no huge cast of characters that all need development. A simple story with a straightforward outline.

I've prepared myself, I hope. I read Gwen Hayes' Romancing the Beat to make sure that my plot outline would work. I read some romance novels that I find inspirational - and aspirational - like @bibliosphere's Hunger Pangs and @unpretty's Unprofessional Behavior (can you guess that my novel is going to be erotica as well as romance?). I passed my outline to friends online to get feedback, and went through a handful of revisions before I told myself that it wasn't going to get any better by stalling longer.

I started writing Melting in her Mouth (working title, it may change) this weekend. After some false starts, the words are flowing again. I feel good about this. I feel hopeful.

If you take anything from this long, rambling meditation on nothing, let it be this - don't let your fears stop you from doing the things you enjoy.

Oh - and that I'm working on a queer erotic romance novel. Snippets may be forthcoming as I get farther into it.

[helluvabossrewrite45]

Hello, I just wanna say that your scene rewrites are amazing. Seeing Stars has got to be one of my favourites.

On the topic of Octavia, I agree that Viv and her team missed an opportunity with Via. To me in the context of the narrative, Octavia can be a tragic character that is screwed over by the writing. It is implied that she takes after Stolas with her love of astronomy as their form of bonding. Yet, she slowly watches her father drift away from them and is probably wondering if they—she even matters to him. You’re just watching a parent that you had a close bond to just leave you behind because they found someone else that captivated their interest. On top of the divorce that is currently going on would leave a child feeling doubtful.

I also just never understood why the writers want to keep having her being mad at her dad, even though they say that Stella has clearly been ruining the family, yet it’s his fault? Half the time the writing seesaws on Stella and Via’s dynamic because the only time she does care is when Stolas is there and…I get that could be counted as gaslighting, but the character lacks subtlety that it’s hard to tell when she’s always yelling. More often she doesn’t even care for her with two episodes implying this.

I just in general feel frustrated with this family because either avenue could be interesting if the writers took it seriously enough but they don’t and instead choose spur of the moment scenes that we have to use as jigsaw puzzle with some pieces not fitting because world building barely matters.

Sorry for the ramble. You’re version or fix it is probably one of my top favourites for the characters because I can definitely see the use of the loosely outlined jigsaw puzzle. Have a nice day/evening.

Thank you anon, im glad you like my rewrites

I agree 100% with via, they did the same thing with moxxie to her, that being repeating the same arc again of her being mad at her dad but forgive him in the end. It kind of shows that just like moxxie, they didnt know what to do with her which is a shame because the small details she has are there to be fully explored, but they never explore them. Like her and music, she oftens listens it even at the dinner table and with stellas reaction to the cheating affair, we can peice a puzzle of her doing it as a coping mechanism; escaping her problems through distraction. And with seeing stars main plot is around via running away to see a meteor shower, it would've been perfect to explore that side of her along with more knowledge of the family in general to piece this puzzle their giving (like the relationship with her mom, her uncle, the rest of their family, how they react to the situation, how their currently dealing with it, etc...) through flashbacks (since the whole point would've been that these issues wont go away no matter how much you try to ignore them) And yes, her closeness with her father drifting away is definitely tragic and its sucks that it wasnt futhered explored, especially with the entire goetta situation as a whole since were in season 2 and we dont even know how they reacted to it. It makes me wonder why even give us these pieces to solve properly if its so little that it makes it pretty impossible without theorizing from any vague info we have and thats not how problem solving works.

And yes, its odd that shes only mad at stolas but never to stella. I mean, i get she would be on her moms side because of him cheating but still with how stella is written, you'd think she'd hate her too. In this rewrite, stella would actually be subtle in her abuse to stolas in a way where you can still recognise it but also understand why other (like via) wouldnt. An example of this would be my first post where her and stolas confront each other about the divorce, the quote; '-or did you forget? Like you always do?'. Its meant to showcase her most common tactics, shaming. From her background (that i'll explain further in her own post), she oftens picks up things from her family, which shaming is included. She would shame stolas whenever he makes a mistake or does something she doesnt approve of (like if he wore a suit she didnt like, she would say; 'you know were meeting your family right? You think they want to see their son of royalty in that sort of wear?' or them arguing on how much time via should spend on her astronomy lessons; 'Shes going to be a future you and what, you wanna just, make her lazy, huh?!' (or even 'I didnt think you'd care that less for your own daughter....') See these are what you could recognise as shaming but also understand why people may not consider it so, potentially using excuses like 'oh shes probably right because its royalty/she just cares about looking good enough for her family' or 'oh she just cares for her daughter and her future' (ironically enough, those are kind of what fans AND the show itself use as an excuse for stolas lmao) but just because via doesnt recognise stella's abusive tendencies, doesnt mean she isnt upset with her. She very much is, mainly with stella's aggressiveness as stella developed anger issues throughout her life and didnt have anything to help it. Via hates it whenever stella yells because of course she would be, no one likes angry loud noises! Its just that unlike with stolas, shes not as open with her frustration to her mother because shes genuinely scared of her from that aggression that makes it much more harder to truly express her feelings about her, instead keeping it to herself along with her feelings towards how the rest of the family is reacting to it given that it just feels too much for her to be involved in. So the reason why shes only open on being mad at stolas is despite what he did, he's the only one she feels safe in being mad about (I mean, she does have andrealphus as someone safe to an extent though he's very dismissive of telling her whats going on with the goetias and definetly doesnt take being wrong well like stella so hes not much better) that way, it'd be more understandable and futher peice the puzzle of their family and their dynamic. Family itself is quite complicated because of the nuances it has behind it and i wanna incorporate that to the goetias were their not fully evil but tend to care about their statuses rather then whats right in front of them (that being them as a family) since i think its interesting to explore and wouldve suit stolas, stella and octavia really well.

No need to apologise for rambling, i like getting asks of peoples thoughts/ideas on helluva. Hell look, im rambling too. I hope you enjoy the future rewrites i have in store, have a nice day/evening too

[sleepyowlwrites]

38 and 39 for the writer asks

38 I answered already and basically I said that I also think it's crazy that I write best when I'm going by the seat of my pants. like, just really, really pantsing it. NO plot, JUST vibes will get me the farthest into a story than any worldbuilding, brainstorming, outlining, or character sheet-ing will.

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

I only felt like giving up the one time. and I did. I took a break. I also went to college during that time, so personally I think that was a very good reason to take the break separate from how nothing was working out the way I wanted it to, but yeah. I didn't write original fiction - minus a couple of shorts - for six years. I took a break for a couple years and then started writing fanfiction, which was a fantastic time. I built my original tumblr following with my fanfics, and I actually just had a spam of comments on ao3 from someone finding my fics and enjoying them. in 2018 I started writing original fiction again and I've been going reasonably steady since then - with the exception of November-December since 2020 because I'm too exhausted to write anything during those months.

nothing makes me want to stop writing anymore. this is, I think, due to a few factors.

a) I feel very positively about my writing. I don't always like it. I don't always think it's good, but I always feel positively about it in the sense that I'm glad I've written, I'm glad I'm writing. I don't get discouraged by crap first draft stuff. I also don't really write crap anymore, at the level I'm at. I write decent first draft stuff. not always coherent or going anywhere, but not bad. so it's easier to feel positive about it, but even if it were bad, I still wouldn't dislike it.

b) I write for me. my target audience is me. there is no purpose to my writing higher than the fact that I would like to read it, and right under the purpose is the fact that I enjoy the act of writing enough that regardless of quality, it is always a worthwhile pastime. there are no due dates, there are no rush orders, nothing is keeping me to being a writer except that I want to be. I write for me, because I like it.

c) if I need to take a break, if I'm getting burnt out, or if I'm just generally tired, I'll just do that. I won't write. I won't write plot, anyway. I might write character stats, or ideas, or set dressing, or vibes. or nothing. I'll just think about it. again, it's all for me, I've got the time to rest before I continue.

d) if I come to a point where something I've been work on isn't currently working any longer, I'll put it aside. by now you must know I have so many projects. I flounder if I try to work on only one wip at a time, and so I have current projects, backburner projects, lost in the shuffle projects, barely formed concepts, blank books, all kinds of stuff. there's always something new or reused that I can think about. I don't feel guilty about putting something down and picking up something new. soon enough I'll be picking up that old thing again.

I haven't worked on summon story in a bit because it wasn't working. so I was ruminating about guild story and answering asks about city story and I wrote that scene for apocalypse story. and then! I figured out what was going on with summon story! it was the tone. it wasn't goofy enough. I was trying to shove a plot in where it wasn't wanted. I know how I want to write it now. so I can, whenever I've got the spoons. and the soup. the brain soup.

thanks for asking, Rainstorm!

[thelast-and-theonly]

Fanfic Update (and Ramblings)

So the day has come where I have finally completed my first draft.

I said I would get it done because the story haunted me and because I had learned that I am a writer in my heart and that I love these characters enough to embarrass myself with potentially boring/odd plots and so forth.

And now I can finally say that I have done it. My first draft, from what was originally supposed to be a one-shot has expanded to a 60-page monstrosity. I designed the outline into 15 parts specifically to help me tackle my pacing problem (I tend to rush the endings).

And for every section I wrote, for every part I didn't rush, it grew . . . into something that I wasn't expecting.

I procrastinated the hardships of writing for more than a decade now; I joined the fandom and Fanfiction when I was at the tender age of 12. And like any kids that age, my stories (that are still up and published) I feel lack real substance and the writing patterns aren't to my liking, not to mention they didn't garner much attention. I admit this hurt my pride and as a result, I shied away but now -

Writing this first draft, which is the equivalent of barfing on paper, even with all its flaws of which there are many, I feel more confident and joyful than I did then with any of my more polished works.

I understand now the purpose of writing ugly. I understand the point of writing the dreaded first draft. It's a damn coming unclogged for better ideas to flow. It tests different methods until you find or Frankenstein your own method. I can only imagine how the editing process will go, and I'm equal parts excited to start and fearful.

In my outline and in my mind I had an idea of how the story was going to go, but writing it I trusted my instants to lead me and some courses naturally went astray to someplace better. Others are half-baked, but the ideas are rising nonetheless.

I really expected this story to be no longer than 20 pages, and I still expect that as I edit in my 2nd and 3rd drafts for the pages to shrink. I know now that it will be divided up into a 3 chapter arc. Maybe it will be a stand-alone or maybe the opening chapters for my Drabble Sweettooth Series ( oh yes I have a list of stories for these dorks to come).

God, I have barely said anything about the actual fic.

Well, the fic is now currently in what I call its resting period. I have read over other fics I attempted to write in the past and looking back I see the flaws and potential of them all and I doubt I would have, had I not stepped away. So, right now it's gonna rest for a few weeks before I tackle the 2nd draft, where I will attempt to connect the dots and make the story more clever than it actually is.

But, never fear, I will spend this time improving my understanding of quality writing and, most feverishly, practicing my art. It's been far too long since I really sat down and learned how to draw again, and I miss it. I really, really do, about as much as I miss the decade I wasted not writing.

Because there is much fanart I would like to draw of them too, and many other OTPs of mine (tianaxnaveeen from Princess and the Frog to name one, they are criminally underrated) and I will not have anything but the best for my lovelies.

I plan to draw some character designs to support this fic of mine, and as I improve move on to concept art and even comics. They need more art of them as well! Besides, it about time I learned how to draw men and animals.

I'm excited YAY. Months of writing and my heart is light in knowing that I'm doing what writers do - bleeding at the type writer.

Thank you all for following, liking, reblogging, and for everything. I believe these rambling posts/updates help me stay focused too.

[kaphyr]

THIS!!! I have been toying with the idea of explaining my frustrations with the fic (150K+) I'm currently working on and the previous one (51K). And length is the symptom of the main problems with my 150K+ fic.

I planned the fuck out of The Long Defeat and even as I did that, I knew it was going to be around 200K (closer to 300K+ now -don't be surprised, it's in the name, lol). As someone who has read many fics and original books of that length, I wasn't too worried about the length itself - because as much as in the publishing world that is definitely something to consider if you actually want to sell copies of your book, in the world of fandoms, there are plenty of 200K+ beloved fics.

But that doesn't make them good or deny that these stories are going to suffer from that word-length or that the length isn't a symptom of problems in the story.

The Long Defeat has 3 main POVs (so far) and is happening in mainly three timelines. In retrospect, I can see how I should have just split this into 5 fics - they would probably not be longer than 80K each, in fact, 1 might have been novella-lengthed. However, because this is fanfiction and because I am not bringing this to a publisher - and I am very aware of that fact as someone who writes and edits original fiction - I thought that it didn't matter.

I wanted to put all these highly connected stories together so that they could be enjoyed as I meant them to be - except that's not what's happening. I post 1 chapter every 2 weeks - for a year and half. I thought that if I was to post these different POVs as their own fics in a series, it would take away from the interplay. Also, what guarantee is there that a reader will read every POV and get the whole story?

However, if this was an original story, I know what I would have done. I would have cut out characters or mixed them together for a smaller cast. I would have removed the smaller B-plots, I would have stuck to maybe 2 timelines. I would have edited down the word count - I would have actually gotten my work professionally edited.

And you know the interesting thing about series - especially these days? The instalments tend to come out barely a year apart - if even that. And you know what a reader can do right before diving into the new installments? They can reread the book. You know what I can't expect my readers to do? Reread my fic before I post a new chapter.

Which brings me to one of the issues I have with such a long fic. There are a lot of details and if you don't remember them, you probably can't see everything I'm doing - you can't read it the way I meant it to be read. And honestly I have only myself to blame.

But the idea of not posting until I had everything ready? To miss out on the comments? The speculations? The theories? No thanks. I've already tried that with Making a God. I posted twice a week in under 2 months, only taking the time to read over chapters before posting. I know plenty of fic writers only post once they have it all written out, but that's not for me. It took me 2 years to write those 51K words. In a year and a half, I've written around 154K of this fic - and I've written so much more for work and my own original fiction.

Putting the work out there within a month or 2 from writing works from me. Even if it brings its own issues like not having the time to ponder over scenes long enough to see issues or how to phrase things better. Additionally, I still get many ideas - and because this is a fic and I want to indulge myself - I add them to my outline and watch the thing balloon. And sometimes, to set something up, I have to go back to a previously posted chapter and add a few lines and then in the notes of the newest chapter, I have to clarify that. That's... not okay. I know, I know.

Would I do it any differently if I could go back? Probably not. I really can't help it that I get too many ideas. But I might have changed the posting schedule to once a week or even more frequently (if I could hack writing that quickly). But it'd still be a mishmash of POVs and timelines because at the end of the day this is fanfiction and here, I get to not compromise - even when I know it's a bit of a disservice to the audience because at the end of the day, I am writing for myself (like honestly, it's kinda shameful how often I reread these fics of mine, lmao).

But I also understand that this doesn't change that my story will suffer from these indulgences. I think that as writers we need to consider what the aim of our stories are. With the 150K+ fic, I'm just trying to write politics with a poly-pan main character at the center of it and to use a manga/anime that squandered its setting and premise. With the 51K fic, I wanted to write about a rare pair (Rabou/Yato) and practice some literary devices as well as writing exercises. I... think I reached/am reaching my goal.

(And if I'm being honest, I think my 150K+ fic is better than the other one. It might be longer but the prose is better and is more action (less being in characters heads).)

I know some just want to share their thoughts but let me tell you, there is something sinfully good about creating something with all the layers you imagined. Like going from stick figure sketches to carving angels in marble. I'm not saying you can't write good stories without getting better at writing, but... god. The things we can do with just words... And the beauty of well-structured stories with beautiful prose?

And that's why I think it's important for writers to examine their stories. Why is your fic getting so long? Is there an underlying issue? And if you didn't mean it, are you fine keeping it like that? Writing more fics that you know go nowhere? Sag in the middle? I know we're just try to have fun but we can also make beauty at the same time - or just indulge ourselves. Just... know which you're doing. (And this is NOT me saying you have to do anything! It's supposed to be fun. Have fun!)

Very few fics need to be longer than a short novel. When we start getting into multiple hundreds of thousands of words, usually, we've actually just planned poorly, gotten stuck in the interminable middle of a story we haven't planned an ending for, or caved to peer pressure to write more of something that's come past its expiry date as a concept.

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 11

An: Change of pace, enjoy some fluff!

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 1700

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of guns.

Ghost’s deep breaths and the crackling fire are the only audible sounds in the entire cabin. Over the last while, I became accustomed to all the different sounds of the task members at night. Snoring mostly, but there was always at least some noise. At home, I lived in a place across from a bar and was used to the sounds of sirens and cars and drunk people wandering the streets at night as they shouted at each other. Here it’s the complete opposite. There’s nothing to drown out my thoughts and I don’t know how to feel about it.

Ghost was in contact with Price who said they survived the raid, but lost several men. He wouldn’t tell me how many. Soap’s team and one other returning from a mission caught the tail end of the Ultranationalists as they were retreating with their recaptured members. 141 cut off the last Ultranationalists, but almost every prisoner escaped. Overall it was a loss, but they’re lucky nearly all of them survived. My mind drifts off to the man who was shot in the hanger. I wonder if he made it.

Part of me wanted to sleep on the floor instead of sharing a bed, but the floor’s cold and I already struggle with that enough as is. Ghost didn’t bring up the topic of who sleeps where, so neither did I. After our fight, he’s barely spoken.

Unfolded, the futon is the size of a double bed. It’s hard despite an old mattress topper being placed under the sheets and far from big enough for Ghost. He sleeps on his side and has to bend his knees just to stop his legs from hanging off the end. Several pillows and musty blankets were stashed away in one of the cabinets and currently wrap around me. Ghost said he didn’t want any, so I took his because you can never have too many blankets.

A soft orange glow escapes a small window in the wood stove. It’s just bright enough to see the outlines of everything in the cabin. I’ve always liked warm light like this. Maybe it’s an innate thing passed down from my ancestors all those years ago who slept beside fires every night. Maybe its because the light confirms that the most dangerous thing in the room lies next to me in bed and not creeping in the shadows.

I’ve had to pee for at least an hour but don’t want to go outside to the outhouse. There’s no indoor plumbing, but there is a double-seater with a moon carved into the door. I glance at the sleeping man beside me. The feeling’s only going to get worse. I’ll be quiet. He won’t notice.

I slip my legs out of the blankets and onto the hardwood floor. My back hurts from the mattress already. Just as I’m about to stand up, something latches on to my wrist with an unnatural strength.

“Where’re you going?” Ghost’s voice is deeper than normal. He props himself up with his other arm. And I thought I was a light sleeper. But maybe he was awake this whole time.

“Washroom,” I whisper trying to stay quiet even though there’s no one to wake up.

“You have to tell me,” he grumbles. I roll my eyes at his remark. I don’t know if he thinks I’m stupid enough to run away or that maybe I have other intentions.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he catches the irritation in my tone.

“You don’t know what’s out there,”

“I doubt anyone’s followed us here,” I say, but I don’t really know. Neither does he.

“Don’t be a fool,” his hand remains on my arm. “Besides there’s wildlife out there. Wolves. Coyotes.”

“How about you watch from the window,” I say. “I don’t think you need to hear me use the toilet,” I tack on at the end to discourage him.

“Fine,” He mumbles. I bite my lip to hide my smile. It worked. “Take my jacket,” he releases his grasp to reach the jacket hanging on the arm of the futon. When I shrug it over my shoulders, it swallows me whole. The inside is lined with a soft, welcoming fleece. A scent of gunpowder and something decidedly more earthy engulfs me as I pull the zipper up to my nose.

“Thanks,”

I never imagined myself peeing outside before, but here we are. The toilet seat is so cold against my legs the need almost completely disappears. Not to mention how dark it is in here with no electricity. I want to leave the door open to get some moonlight in here, but then I risk Ghost seeing in. I can suck it up for two minutes.

Outside, the night sky is otherworldly. There’s no light pollution or clouds blocking the stars and I can’t stop staring. There’s just a thin layer of compact snow on the ground, so I take the opportunity to lie down and look up at the sky. It’s cold, but nothing worse than the winters at home. There’s no harsh wind blowing against my skin, so it’s finally tolerable.

“What’re you doing?” heavy footsteps crunch against the snow. I smile to myself because this is the one place he can’t be quiet.

“Stargazing,” I whisper, “Shh, you’ll wake the wolves,” From the corner of my eye, I see Ghost look up at the stars and pause for a moment. I wonder if he cares about mundane things like this? Is he capable of seeing beauty after all the horrors he’s witnessed? In another breath, he disappears back into the cabin. Guess not.

After our fight, it felt like a storm passed over us. The tension eased just a bit as the wind died down. The waters returned to normal and then almost into glass. There’s no fighting against whitecaps as we try to make it to land. I wouldn’t go as far as saying it’s smooth sailing. But things aren’t nearly as rocky as they were before. For now, we have an understanding.    

The crunching sound of footsteps approaches again and then Ghost does something out of character. He hands me his helmet with the night vision googles attached. I hesitate before grabbing it, what’s the catch? I look into his eyes for an answer, there’s a glint,  but they hold no malice. The helmet is heavy in my hands. I can’t believe he wears this all day. His neck must constantly ache.

“Flip the lenses down and look at the stars with them,” he says. I sit up to put the helmet on. It’s an unnatural feeling: like there’s a brick of cement sitting on my head. Ghost crouches down and reaches for the strap to tighten it. “Stay still,” his hands brush against the sensitive skin on the underside of my chin as he fixes the strap so the helmet won’t slide off my head. He switched out the bloody skull mask for a plain, black balaclava before bed. It humanizes him, seeing him wear something else. He’s less hidden with this one. Although his face is still covered with black paint, it’s easier to read his expressions. The balaclava highlights the outline of his strong cheek bones and jaw. His eyes almost look kind under the moonlight.

My heart skips a beat when Ghost flips down the night vision lens. It’s like looking at a whole new world. I look around at the trees first and notice how far I can see. Everything looks like it has a green filter.

“Look up,” his voice is eager. So, I do. And what I see is almost indescribable. I feel like I can see every star in the universe. It’s breathtaking. Hypnotizing. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s…” I can’t find the words I’m looking for and for a moment I don’t know if they exist. The men who created our language weren’t alive to witness a sight such as this. And so, the dictionaries remain empty. “Incredible,” will have to do.

“The goggles are the best part about night missions,” he says as he lays down beside me on the cold ground. Ghost crosses his arms across his chest to keep his hands warm. His shoulder brushes against my arm and I notice he isn’t watching the stars.

In the silence of the woods, I feel the safest I’ve felt in weeks. The world feels like it’s asleep. We’re the only people around for miles. There are no other task members are walking around with oversized guns, or angry prisoners, or the looming threat of an Ultranationalist raid. There’s just Ghost. And right now, he doesn’t feel like much of a threat.

“Can you see the stars at home?” I ask.

“No.”

“Me either.”

I let the silence hang in the air for a while longer. The frosty night air caresses my face. Our breath is visible in tiny puffs of clouds.

“Do you want them back?” I turn my head to look at him. His black balaclava takes on a whitish glow under the lens.

“Keep ‘em for now,” his voice is quiet but awake. Any drowsiness from before has disappeared. I have a feeling most of his nights are spent awake.

I don’t know how long we’re out there, maybe an hour or so. Ghost points out the different constellations in the sky. I thought it might be a personal interest, but then he says they’re used for navigation when they don’t have access to GPS or maps. If you know important reference points or certain constellations, you’ll never be lost. He speaks quietly to preserve the stillness around us and guides my vision with his hands as he points out each constellation. The man beside me is a completely different one than a few hours ago. This one, I like. I could listen to his soothing voice talk about the stars all night. In the back of my mind, I think about how often our arms brush each time he points out a new star, how I shifted closer to feel his shoulder press harder against mine.      

It’s only when the cold starts to seep into my bones that I suggest we head back in. This whole time Ghost was out here in just his Henley and jeans. Yet he didn’t complain once. I wonder if he ever complains. Or if he just pushes every emotion to the back of his mind until it’s ready to burst.

“They’re beautiful,” I say once again as I hand Ghost back his helmet.

He searches my eyes for quite some time before agreeing.

“They are.”

PT 12:

[oneirataxiahiraeth]

Can I have a sub!kai fic where he annoyed the reader Thx

Uhmmmm yeth👹

Rules

pairing : vamp!reader x sub!kaiparker

Warning : language, smut, penetrative sex, oral (masc & fem), face riding, orgasm denial (m.), bondage, Kai stubble, dirty talk, 69ing,

Requested ;)

Word Count : a little over 3k

A/N :

I had wayyyy too much fun with this one. I’m not really used to writing sub!kai so I had this one was good enough for you<3 (also I’m sorry it literally took FOREVER) also, there’s is little to no plot, srry

He groaned as the ropes rubbed harshly against his skin. His wrist red and irritated as he pulled to feel the tiniest bit of relief that he wasn’t getting.

“It’s only going to hurt more with every pull, Malachi.” You hummed, a sadistic smirk finding its way to your lips as you watched him struggle.

That’s what you were.

A sadist.

You enjoyed watched him like this. Helpless, vulnerable, borderline pathetic. A shiny layer of sweat coating his forehead, and disgustingly dirty thoughts of you on top of him filling his mind. You were truly one evil bitch. How could you do this to him? Strip him of his dominance, just to prove a point. It was oh so fucking hot, but torture not being the one on the other side of these ropes.

“You do realize that once I’m out of these ropes the rest of the night is going to be absolute hell for you... right?” He cleared his throat. He was just itching to inflict some type of fear in you, but in his current state he was making much progress.

You knew exactly what you were doing to him. You’ve never done all this before, but you had a plan for exactly how you wanted it to go. Kai was a dick. He has been one all fucking week. Lately he’s been treating you like precious cargo. Not letting you do anything on your own, not even a shower without him sneaking in. At first it was somewhat sweet sentiments, like ordering your favorites at the grill, then driving you around town to handle errands. Slowly that sweetness faded into him making every decision for you. Not letting you speak for yourself, and finding ways to punish you for speaking out against him. Putting silencing spells on you if he didn’t feel like hearing you rebuttals, and just yesterday he put you into a deep sleep for a few hours so he could ‘have a few moments of peace’.

He was dictating your life.

“What makes you think you’re getting out of these ropes tonight?” You hum.

You watched as he swallowed down the air bubble caught in his throat.

You were set on proving a point. He wasn’t the boss of you in any way shape or form. Not in public, not in private, and he definitely did not have you wrapped around his finger like he was your pimp or some shit. In fact, the whole point of tonight was to make him see that it was quite the opposite.

“Because we both know I can satisfy you way more if I’m untied. Just untie me and I can make you feel good, y/n/n.” He smiled, thinking that you would give into his offer. Instead of actually untying him you just let out the most seductively cynical laugh ever, causing his body to tense under yours.

“We’ll see...” you smirked, lifting your hips from his crotch as you leaned down to place a soft kiss on his collar bone. “Now should we go over the rules or do you have more empty threats to make?”

"Rules?" He nearly laughed in your face.

“Tonight is all on my terms... you will do whatever I want you to do.” You relied, ignoring his failed attempts at taking you seriously. “First rule, not touching. But that shouldn’t be much of a problem, huh?” You smirked, watching his eyes roll. “Second rule, you will ask for everything...” suddenly his smile dropped, and he was so amused by the situation anymore. “You want me to touch you? You ask. You want a kiss? You ask. And if you want to cum... you better beg as if your life fucking depended on it.” You nearly giggled feeling the way he giggled under you.

“Y/n-”

“You will not cum unless I say that you can.” He took in a sharp breath. “Not too bad right? You can be a good boy for me, just for the night, right?” You pouted mockingly, looking deeply into his eyes dark with lust.

“Are the uhm... ropes necessary?” He asked, voice an octave higher than usual.

“No.” You sighed. “But you look so fucking hot all tied up like a doll.” You hummed, finger tracing the vein bulging from from his neck. “So pretty. So perfect.”

“T-that’s usually my line.”

“Did I give you permission to speak?” Your hips grinding down into his, earning a low groan from his throat.

He remained silent, putting a soft smirk on your lips. Your hands traced down his chest, oh so lightly, scooting down his body until you’re hands ghosted lightly over the bulge in his boxers. He felt the heat of your fingers over him. He decided to take advantage of the fact that his legs weren’t bound by anything to push his hips up into the air for some relief. Unfortunately for him, you could read him like a book. Your hand moved away from him before he could even move, resulting in a disappointing action that caused a tiny whine to leave his lips.

“Y/N!” He groaned, head falling back as he tugged at the ropes keeping his bound. You smiled at his frustration, he was in for a long night.

“You didn’t ask.” You shrugged as if you did nothing wrong. Hand placed on his lower stomach, fingers tracing through the outline of his abs.

“Touch me. Please.” He grumbled, not too happy with his position. He was usually the one having you bed for any sort of touch from him. This was all different kinds of unnatural.

   "I am touching you, you're going to have to be more specific than that, Princess." You smiled, voice sweet, but the words coming from you mouth made him want to murder you.

“Aw, but I am touching you. You’re going to have to be more specific than that, Princess.” You teased, voice sweet and condescending. He lifted his head just to glare at you for the nickname. You lifted an eyebrow, challenging him to speak out of turn but he decided to play nicely.

  "I want you to-" he wanted a lot of things.

“I want... I want you to-” he wanted a lot of things right now actually. He didn’t want to give into you no matter how badly he wanted you. His mind fighting against your sudden rebellion while his body ached to be under your control. There was a way to get what he wanted. He just had to show you that he still had control over you, even in restraints. “I want to taste you.” He blurted, a sharp breathing entering your lungs for a moment. You automatically knew what he was doing, and how he must’ve thought that this was so smart of him. “I-I want you to sit on my face...” he spoke, ideas running through his mind at 100 miles per hours. “And I want you to suck my dick too.” Your whole body tingled with excitement at the request.

“What’s the magic word?” You asked, eyebrow raising at the devilish smile beneath you.

“Please, oh please.” He played along. He knew it wouldn’t be too long before you were untying him, and begging for him to fuck you until it was difficult to function properly. He stuck out his bottom lip to ass to the effect.

You scanned the mischief on his face before do anything. Slowly you moved off of him until you were standing on your bedroom floor, his eyes following you closely. In the position he was now he just seemed so vulnerable, and perfect. Just like you had mentioned before. You could see how rock hard he was through his boxers, and how his abs tightened even when you weren’t on him just proved how badly he wanted to be touched by you. You didn’t think he realized but his hips were slightly bucking into the air, trying to find something, anything, but it wasn’t working out too well for him.

You slid your panties down your legs, letting them rest on the bedroom floor. You stepped out of the fabric, walked back over to the bed. Kai watching intently as your fingers traced down his chest, your beautiful being so close yet far at the same time.

“Can you kiss me? Please?” He spoke, a genuine request. Your eyes slowly trailed up to his, not detecting any hidden intentions besides just wanting you lips on his. You were fine giving him what he wanted, but that wouldn’t be fun if you gave into ever request. He’s be a total dick to you all week, so you denying him just one simple pleasure was totally fine with you.

You brought you’re face to hover over his, hand moving up to the soft skin of his cheek. The soft yet prickly hairs of the beard he was growing out tickling your aura. You’re lips barely grazing against his, allowing him to relish in the closeness for a moment before pulling away.

“There are much more productive things you could be doing with that pretty little mouth of yours right now.” You grinned, watching his jaw fall in amazement as you climb back onto the bed. You maneuvered yourself carefully, making sure both of your legs were positioned on either side of his head.

His view of your face was gone, nothing but you glistening pussy waiting for him to give into you. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting on your already heated core. You lowered you’re body down slowly, just until you felt his warmth barely touching you. You leaned over, hands tracing slowly down his abdomen, slowly reaching under his boxer band, listening to his breathing change as your fingers wrapped around him.

He pulled against the ropes, hoping to gain even just a little bit of leeway. His eyes rolled at the light laugh you gave under your breath, realizing you really weren’t going to let him free. He just had his plan to hope will work. He didn’t have to move too much before his tongue was flattening against your folds, licking a single bold stripe against you. A soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth began to move against you, you’re hand slowly pumping him as he took over you mind for a brief moment in time. For some reason, though he hadn’t to admit it, being bound right now felt surprisingly good. The idea of being at your mercy as his tongue worked against you... just did something to him that he couldn’t explain. His eyes closed as he focused on solely pleasuring you before he became a bit distracted. You soft lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, collecting his precum on your tongue. His jaw fell open at the relief, letting out a soft moan.

His tongue worked into you, lapping up and sucking down all of your sweet juices. His facial hairs tickling the insides of your thighs as he ate you out. You made sure to make the most of this moment. You wanted to drive him crazy, by giving him everything and nothing at the same time. Your tongue flattening against his shaft as you took him in your mouth. In his mind he was debating on just siphoning some of your magic to get out of the ropes so he could handle you... properly. Though he quite enjoyed the way your hips were rocking against his mouth as you tried your best to contain yourself.

“Faster,” he groaned, tearing his mouth away from you. “Please- god, I need faster.” He begged, in a voice that sounded way too needy for his own liking. Which basically meant he sounded perfect for you. You hummed, sending vibrations through him before taking your mouth from around him with a pop. You pumped him in your hand a few times before sitting up above him. His lips connecting to you once again earning a gasp and moan that you weren’t prepared to release. Kai always knew how to work wonders one you. He was most proud of how submissive you would be for him in the late hours of the night. He knew how to work you up, and push all the right buttons and he always made sure that no matter what happens he made you cum.

Just another joy you got to swipe away.

You lifted you hips too far for him to reach, listening to him whine form the loss of your taste. You maneuvered yourself around his body again until you were straddling his lap. His stubble covered chin glistening with you juices, watching his chest rise and fall with heavy breathing. You bent down, placing a soft kiss on his lips, being sure to make sure he knew you just were getting a taste of yourself.

“You should grow out the beard, it would be so fucking hot.” You smiled, his throat let out a needy whimper as he tugged again at the ropes keeping him bound.

“y/n- please, m’gonna explode.” He groaned, causing your wicked smile to widen.

“sorry, what? I didn’t hear that.” You hummed, turning your head so he would speak right into your ear.

“y/n.” He whined loudly, hips bucking into yours harshly. You hands moved down to his hips, holding them down before he could try again. He was right where you wanted him. Needy, pathetic, and easy to break. “I need you, so so bad, please.” He groaned, tugging at the ropes again, pure frustration and sexual tension taking over him.

“You need me?” You asked, trying to sound confused, hands moving further down his body until your fingers were tracing the base of his cock. “Like... right here?” You cocked your head to the side, watching as his jaw clenched. His eyes locked on your face, watching you find him amusing enough to smile. He would never in his life admit this out loud, but he definitely enjoyed this. He was aching right your your hand, just like how you wanted him.

“I w-wanna feel you.” He breathed.

“You want me to fuck myself on your dick?” You dipped your head down, placing you lips right below his jawline, pressing a series of light pecks along his neck.

“Please- fuck, please baby.” He whined again.

Your hand wrapped around his shaft once again, pumping him slowly in your hand. His mouth fell open at the friction again. Your hand sped up in its action as you watched his eyes close for a brief moment in pleasure. If this is what having total control felt like... being able to see the person you love most revel in the feeling of just you and only you... you could understand why it was so addicting to him.

Doesn’t mean you weren’t still annoyed with him.

In his mind flashed pornographic pictures of you echoes of your moans on repeat in his mind, along with the sensations of your fingers coursing along his skin. You always held the power to make him fall apart at your finger tips, he just never let you see that.

“Aw, you like this don’t you?” You hummed, poking out lips at the soft moans you were earning as you jerked him off.

“Please let me feel you.” He asked again, aching to feel your heated walls wrapped around him.

“You think you deserve to feel me?” You sigh, handing tightening around him as your pace quickened earning an audible reaction. “You make such pretty noises, you know.” You hummed, leaning over him a bit. His tip barely brushing against you stomach as you watching him glide closely to the edge. “Are you close baby?”

“Y-yes, god, I’m so close.” He groaned out, hands turning to grip the comforter to relieve some pressure.

You watched his eyes squeeze tighter together, and his muscles everywhere tense. A light layer of sweat forming over his chest as he body produce a heat that was lethal. Throaty moans escaped him, and your body heat so close to him was only bringing him closer to his euphoric release.

Or what would’ve been if you hadn’t stopped.

“Y/N-” he whined, tugging at the ropes a little extra hard with frustration.

“I didn’t say you could cum, did I?” You responded to his childish whine.

Your lips curved up into a devilish smile that has him weak in the knees. You hand squeezing the base of his cock once again before you lifted yourself on your knees above him. His tip gliding along your folds slick with his saliva and your own arousal. His mouth feel open, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your dragging him along your heat.

“Wanna be in you, babe.” He groaned, “please, lemme feel you.”

You hum, moving you hand away from him breaking the intimate contact between the two of you. Both of your hands reached the his, grabbing the ropes keeping him bound before breaking each one. His hands immediately try to go to you, but you catch them before they can manage to.

“No touching rule is still in effect, Malachi.” You grin.

“Then why untie me?” He pouted.

“I love to see you squirm.” You commented with a light shrugged, leaning over as you placed his hands over his head. Your nose barely brushing past each other. “If you touch me and without permission we’ll stop, got it?”

“You’re so evil.” He whined, head lifting up to bring your lips closer together.

“Wonder who I get it from.” You smiled, finally pressing your lips together bringing sinking down on his cock that’s been waiting for you all night. He let out a breathy moan into the kiss, your hips lifting back up before falling again. Air slowly leaving your lungs as you let out a breathy moan into his lips. Kai’s hands gripping onto the comforter once again for dear life.

You kept up a steady place, bouncing on top of him, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Your lips tore away from each other’s as you tried picking up pace, watching Kai’s face twist as he watched you use him for you’re own satisfaction. You noticed the tired euphoric look on his face on how he was already beginning to twitch inside of you. Your walls clenching around him, making him go ballistic as you fuck your self on him.

“I-I’m go-nna-” he moaned, trying to make coherent sentences through the ecstasy. “Can I please-”

“No, not yet.” You spoke clearly, pace not altering. “Look at me.” You demanded notices how his eyes fluttered shut every few seconds. He tried to keep his eyes open for you, staring you dead in your pretty face wondering how in love he had to be to end up in this position. “So good for me.” You smiled, nearly making him break one of your rules... possibly all of them.

“P-please let me t-touch you” he pouted.

“So needy.”

“Please.”

You nodded allowing him to move his hands. They went straight towards your hips, gripping your skin tightly, causing you to realize how close you were to the edge. Your walls clenching around him with every move, making it harder to keep himself contained. You’re eyes locked on each other, watching each other as you both fell completely apart. You noticed how heavy his breathing was and how he was trying his best not lose his shit. It was mesmerizing, noises flowing from the both of you so disgusting erotic that you wished everyone in this house was listening to the best sex they were never going to get to have. That’s when you realized you were beginning you’re ethereal trip on ecstasy.

“Y/N-”

“Cum for me, baby.” You moaned as your legs began to shake around him, body jolting with pleasure as you tried milking out your orgasms by slowly rocking you hips on his but the sensations became too much.

You leaned over placing your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. You felt his hot seed spilt into you coating your walls, as you listened to the rapid pace of his heart beating.

“Can we uhm... can we do that again?” He breathed, voice vibrated through your sensitive body.

“Fuck yea.”

[ssoojinism]

BONNIE & CLYDE | pjm

Pairing ; criminal! Jimin x criminal! y/n

Genre : angst, nsfw (16+), crime au

Warning : alcohol consumption, kissing, graphic murder (pretty gory but some might find it isn’t, idk)

Plot summary :-

“you make this world a little wild, and we shout through crowded streets, turn up the noise and make it loud, and let the world fall at our feet,”.

The story of you living a reckless life with your boyfriend, Park Jimin as the most wanted criminal couple in the big city of Seoul. Inspired by Yuqi's Bonnie and Clyde and also the story of Bonnie and Clyde itself.

[next]

--

The atmosphere in the nightclub located in the center of Seoul is very noisy with the presence of young people dancing on the dance floor, enlivened with lively songs and colorful lights flooding the dark room. The smell of alcohol filled the space mixed with the smell of sweat from those who were still fiercely dancing at the middle of the club.

Meanwhile, in one corner, there was a woman sitting alone in a drinks bar accompanied by the alcohol she had ordered before. She was seen staring at another man who was also sitting not far from her sitting spot. The man who was also aware of her gaze turned around and carved a sweet smile, making the girl to shyly blushed. She then sipped on her drink to relieve the embarrassment before she got startled by a voice that suddenly greeted her out of nowhere.

“Are you new?” He asked.

His voice dripping with honey, not too deep and not too feminine as it’s sounds a bit raspy to her ears. A seductive smile and droopy eyes staring at her that had her heart beating a little bit too faster than usual.

“Kinda. I always want to try the alcohol here,” she said. He then stares at the glass in her hand.

“Martini. Nice one,” He complimented. “Whiskey sour is my favorite,” he added, showing her his half empty glass. She just smiled before he lifted his glass, signaling her for a cheer which she then clashed her glasses with his.

“What’s your name?” He asked first before sipping his drink.

“Yerin,”

“Cute. I’m Jimin,” He reached out for a handshake. Yerin happily accept it but when she about to pull back, Jimin tighten the grip of his hold while staring deep into her face, causing the girl to get flustered, especially when she saw the way his pupil dilated and get darker as he darted his tongue out to wet the bottom of his lips.

“I wonder if you’re…single?”

--

Her back slammed against the brick wall before Jimin once again hovered her to attack her lips for another messy, rough kiss. Yerin let out a breathy moan, her hands wrapping around his neck to deepen the kiss.

“Jimin, Jimin!” She tapped his shoulders for attention but he didn’t seem to listen when he continued to french kissing her like there is no tomorrow.

“Let’s get a room, yeah?” She suggested after she managed to get him off from her for a while. He pouted. “But I can’t wait any longer,” He whined.

Yerin blushed. “It’s embarrassing to have people watching,” She replied while looking around the alley. It was dark but anyone could freely walk in to them so she rather doing it in a closed area. “I will rent a room and I’ll let you do whatever you want, okay?”

Jimin’s lips curled into a mischief smile and nodded. He gets off to let her walk out from the alley towards the open streets but after like one or two step, her way got blocked by someone, judging from a strange silhouette in front of her.  

“Who-“

Yerin looked up and saw you, standing in front of her with switchblade in your hand, pointing towards her. Her brows connecting in a confusing manner.

She recognizes you. You are the woman sitting next to her at the bar back then. She remembers you ordering beer next to her and silently drinking while Yerin still busy having her great time with Jimin before.

But why are you suddenly show up like this? Pointing a knife at the base of her throat in a threatening manner like she doesn’t even know you!

Yerin doesn’t even get a chance to scream because you had slashed her neck open with the switchblade, the blood splatter on your black dress and some even landed on your face too.

The woman collapses lifelessly with her eyes still wide open. You breathe out meanwhile Jimin stepping out from the shadow with a grin.

“That was beautiful, baby!” He applauded, referring to the gruesome image in front of him. You sent him a glare before let out a grunt while walking away, earning a confuse look from your boyfriend.

“Hey! At least get her wallet! Gosh,”

Jimin get into the car after he managed to retrieve the wallet and some jewelry belongs to their previous victim and he saw you wiping the remaining blood on your face, even trying to erase the red lipstick painted on your lips but Jimin was quick enough to stop you from doing so.

“Why are you trying to ruin your lipstick? You know I like it,” He whined, lips jutting into a disappointed pout.

“Uh huh. I know. That’s why I wear this for you but I always ended up seeing you kissing someone else. So, what’s the point?”

You tugged your wrist back while Jimin drew a smile. “Come on. This is not the first time we doing this. You kissed and seduced someone else too. Fair and square, isn’t it?”

“You think I enjoyed it!?” you barked.

“Woah, chill their babe. Okay, I’m sorry, okay?” He apologized, bringing both his palm together in an apologetic manner. You instead glared at him, brows still creasing together.

“Fuck you!” Your snarl doesn’t intimidate him at all that he replied with a wide grin since he knew that you didn’t mean those words at all.

“I love you too,” he reached out for your face to cup them in his palm, squishing your cheeks gently that even you automatically leaned in for more contact since you’re too used to his affectionate touches.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” His whisper makes your eyes flicked up to meet with his face, at the same time making your expression to soften as soon as you met with the pretty face of him.

“Yes please,” With a nod, you answered. He didn’t let you wait for any other second as he crashed his plump lips on your soft one. You quickly buried your fingers into the his light blonde locks, messing them a bit while your lips busy moving in sync to his kiss as if they just found their rightful home.

--

When he arrived at the scene, he could see group of people circling around the area. Seokjin padded his way towards the crime site, carefully slipping in between the crowds who chattering and whispering at the sight of the forensic team busy taking photos and collecting evidence.

“Captain Kim,” Seokjin immediately turned around when his underling coming from behind. Namjoon then handed up some pieces of photos to him. It was the photograph of the victims and some close up to the wounds that was believed to be the cause of her death.

“Victim known as Shin Yerin, 26 years old was found dead by the bartender of the nearer club this morning. The body has been brought to the forensic for autopsy. They however assumed that the victim had been slit in the neck by a sharp weapon, thus being the cause of her death. After a few more research, victims also lost her jewelries and purse which led it to a murder and robbery case,” Namjoon summarized everything he could get from his early investigation.

“I believe the crime was committed by the same persons,” He added. Seokjin pursed his lips.

“It’s definitely them,” He sighed. He obviously was talking about you and Park Jimin.

You and Park Jimin are the infamous criminal partners that are currently being at the top of the police wanted list. Based on some witnesses, both of you are known to be a pair of attractive that would seduce their victims, lure them into a quiet spot to brutally murder them – by slashing their neck – before proceeding to fled along with valuable things belongs to the victims.

“This is their fourth victim, Captain…” Namjoon said with worries painted all over his face. “We can’t let them roaming around any longer. They will put more people in danger,”

Seokjin was silent for a while, staring at the chalk outlines that used to mark the original position of the dead victim.

“What did she do in her past?”

Namjoon let out a sigh, as if he knew what is running in his head when his superior began to throw that question. Namjoon flipped the notepad in his hand to read another information he has written down before.

“Shin Yerin, has a history involving hit and run case. The case happened around 2 months ago where she ran over a 12 years old boy. The boy died. She was arrested but later was released with no specific reason. I believe it involved bribery,”

Seokjin smirked. “Heh, I knew it,”

One thing he are sure about this couple is that they didn’t target just random people. Majority of their victims are people that have criminal past that most of them managed to get away from getting the punishment they deserve. For example, their previous victim is a man in 50s, whose the occupation is a teacher at one of the private schools in Seoul. He was once reported to have sexually assaulted some of his students, both boys and girls but he was freed from being sentence as they said that he lacked of evidence.

A week later, he was found dead in a car with his pants half undone other than the familiar slash on his neck which obviously, it was your doing.

Namjoon let out a low grunt which it immediately distracted Seokjin. “But it’s still doesn’t justify their actions, Captain. Murder is still considered as murder. Those are crimes and they need to be charged over it!” Namjoon exclaimed.

“You know something about them, isn’t it, Captain?” The younger squinted his eyes at him. “You are the only officer that managed to see their face. Why you didn’t give out their details when we ask for your testimony?”

Seokjin glared at him with brows a deep frown. “I told you that I barely saw their face. I don’t know how they look. Do you really think I’m lying? You doubt me?” The older guy had both his palm on his hips while staring deep into Namjoon’s soul.

“I’m sorry, sir. I did not mean to offend you. I’m just making sure,” Namjoon lowered his head, cowering at Seokjin’s sharp stare that didn’t stop from penetrating his face. It made him realized that he probably has spoken something he shouldn’t. Seokjin snorted.

“Whatever. Send reports on my table once they are done with the autopsy. Call me if you guys need anything,” Namjoon nodded. Seokjin turned his heels around as he slowly walking away, with Namjoon bowing at him while telling him to have a safe journey. Seokjin quietly fishing out his phone out of his jeans.

He slammed the door of his car shut once he entered it with his eyes still glued to the screen of his phone. It was shown that he was calling someone with “***” saved as the ID of the mysterious person. Seokjin quickly pressed his phone on his ears while eyes looking out if anyone is watching him at the moment.

--

Hums and giggles can be heard throughout the air. Clothes can be seen scattering on the floor of the hotel room and there’s also two figures hiding under the thick white comforters before one of them decided to pop out to take a breath after being confine under it for a long period of time. Jimin later on followed that he appeared on top of you just to cup your face and smooched your lips again and again.

The kissing got interrupted when your phone on the nightstand rang but you decided to ignore it by letting Jimin proceed with the making out, not even bothering to shove him to answer the call or anything.

But as the time goes on, the ringtones start to irritates your ears that you told Jimin to hold on so you could check on whoever the hell that was bothering you at the moment. Your eyes rolled when you see the ‘Captain Busybody’ ID popped up at the top of your screen. You never felt this confident when rejecting someone’s call, especially from that person.

“Is it him?” Jimin asked. You nodded, lips pouting.

“Ignore him,” He dived into your naked collarbone to leave another mark even though your skins are already full with his love bites he made from last night. But you never complain, instead you enjoyed the way his lips trailing down your skins, making it way to your stomach, lower and lower.

“Yeah, Jimin. Please eat me out, will you?” You demanded, inviting a Cheshire like grin on his lips.

“Of course, m’lady..”

You leaned back on the pillow, relaxing your body and let Jimin do his work when another ringing breaking the moment, making your eyes to shot open. An annoyed groan emits from your throat as you rolled to get the phone and answer it because if you don’t, he will definitely not letting you leaving in peace.

“What the fuck do you want?” No hello or hi, you straight growling at Seokjin. The male’s guess was right though.

“Sorry. Did I bother you?”

“You always bothering me. Are you not aware of that?”

“Is Jimin with you?” His question makes your eyes moving lower to look at your boyfriend who just came up to comfortably lying on your chest, one of his hand fondling with one of your boobs, treating them like a stress ball. When he saw you looking at him, he just draws an adorable smile without saying any words.

“He is. Now, what do you want?” You replied lazily.

“We found another bodies today,” His unimportant information makes you to rolled your eyes once again.

“Okay and?”

“You two did it?”

“So, what if we did it? That woman is one of the scums on this Earth too. Sleeping with your higher ups in return for a jail bail. She deserves to get her neck slashed by me,” You glanced at Jimin who obviously was proud by your witty answer. But, of course, Seokjin was not having it.

“You still can get arrested, y/n. You are literally one of the most wanted criminals right now along with Jimin! Do you ever plan to stop?”

“Blah, blah. Are you done? We are busy right now. If that’s what you want to talk about, I’m hanging up,” You wish you could throw your phone away and let Jimin fuck you senselessly like what he supposed to do.

“I’m being serious, Y/N!”

“So am I,” This time you sat up a little bit but your boyfriend still clinging on your chest, burying his face into your skin despite you have those annoyed frowns on your face since he know, the frowns aren’t made for him.

“Look, Seokjin. We broke up ages ago. Back then when you barely care about me as you are busy chasing your dream to be a police officer. Now, you got what you want and I’m happy with my life too,” Seokjin scoffed at your last statements.

“Your life? Your life as a criminal? Are you happy with that?” His question earned him a chuckle.

“Yeah, so what? I chose this. I don’t care about your nags or if you disagree with my choice, just stop sticking your nose into my business like you are my mother. We are supposed to be done long time ago!” You ended the call with a loud grunt before tossing them to the side of your bed. Jimin’s snuggling into your neck made you to close your eyes and taking a deep breathe to soothe your anger.

“You alright?” Your boyfriend brushing some strands of your hair that were sticking on your face. You nodded, drawing a tiny smile at him. He never fails not to make you feeling calmer everytime you look at those eyes. The eyes that deceive lot of people despite on how innocent they look.

“Yeah. You know, Seokjin just bothering me like what he always does,” You let out a sigh while brushing your hair back. Jimin smiled as he once again snuggling into your skins like a cat which only make you to giggle when his breathe tickling your skins.

“Understandable. I mean, I, too, wouldn’t stop bothering if you looking this gorgeous,” You burst into a laugh when his ticklish touch spreading to your sensitive spots on your neck that make you to fall your back on the mattress where even Jimin immediately get on top of you.

You stuck your tongue out to licked on your bottom lips as your palms running down his bare chest, your fingers dancing on the inked skins at his abdomen.

“I love you,” You whispered. Jimin tilted his head, lips never stop smiling at you while he rests his forearms above your head to support his weight. He somehow didn’t respond you right away to planted a soft kiss on your lips before he finally whispered something against your lips.

“I love you too,”

--

A/N : This is pretty short bcs its just introduction to the characters haha next chapter would be a flashback to y/n’s early backstory

[crimsonbluemoon]

Crimson's Current WIP Masterpost

Okay, so I am having a hell of a time getting my head on straight with my writing. I have so many ideas and thoughts regarding what I want to write, from old stories I never got around to write for other fandoms, to new ideas, to stories that are currently 70% written but I can't figure out what to do with it. So, to just update people on why I keep talking about writing but not actually producing anything, I figured I'd throw them out here to prove I'm actually trying XD

If you wanna hear about any of these or have questions, don't hesitate to ask. Bouncing ideas always makes me writer better. Some of these concepts I just need a wall to throw ideas at and see if they'll stick.

Just a Thought

FBI story: George and Karl become key witness for an FBI case, which puts their lives in danger. George, in danger of losing his visa if he doesn't finish his grad school dissertation, refuses to go into protective services. Enter Agent Dream and Sapnap, tasked with making sure the two don't get murdered before the case. Status: Super early process, random thoughts but no way/shape/form of actual plot/outline.

Autoshop story: George doesn't even own a car, so how does he keep running into the cute annoying autoshop owner? Simple: his friends are idiots. Status: Basic ideas of each of the interactions, but no concrete outline.

Dating SIM Game: When a new rp/dating game releases, everyone is obsessed with unlocking the creator's 'hardcore route'. George has no interest, only agreeing when his boss makes him write an article on 'DSMP'. He plays it, focusing more on the mysterious narrator, Dream, than the storyline. After the final interaction in the game, an 'error' pops up on the screen before all the servers go offline. Annoyed at the bugged game, George goes to bed, planning to return it.

And then things get really weird. Status: Ehhhh *wiggles hand* I've had this thought for years and years, but never been my main focus. Just in bare-bone thoughts. Torn between two very different routes I want to go with this one, so its hard to create an outline without knowing which one I want to do.

The Captain: Mr. Beast hosts an IRL MCC sort of event for DSMP members, with groups of 5 lettering the Feral Bois play together. Dream is chosen to be their captain, but some comments online and his own anxiety about IRL meetings makes him question their choice. Cue wholesome shenanigans. Status: Not sure if I'll even write this. There's really just one scene from this idea that haunts my dreams.

Rollercoaster: George is an up and coming songwriter who works with country newbie Sapnap at 404 studios. When writing a song about a summer romance five years ago, he catches the interest of a fellow masked songwriter, Dream, from XD inc. When Dream's singer, Karl, and Sapnap go up against each other for new artist of the year, George (sorta) meets Dream, and the two instantly connect. Too bad everyone seems to have a secret. Status: I'm really in love with this idea, have a playlist and everything going for the songs being used, most of the concept is done but the outline is still in the works.

Outlines Only

Homerun to my Heart: Karl is a single parent who is raising Foolish after Foolish's mother died in a car accident. Sapnap is a designated hitter for the Red Sox who has to 'clean up his image' after being arrested the year before. When Quackity posts a video of Foolish playing ball with Sapnap's t-shirt and gushing about his dream to meet the designated hitter, Karl doesn't think anything of it. That is, until Twitter does its thing with cute stories and the all-star replies. Status: Stole this from an old moodboard I did years ago, so the outline is pretty much done.

Merman story: George is a merman prince who is poisoned and left to die as a human on the shores of Florida. Dream is a struggling artist helping Sapnap run a souvenir shop while he decides what to do with his life. The two cross paths one early morning, and its up to Dream to figure out how to save George from his dismal fate. Status: Same as the previous one. Totally stole it from an old moodboard, and I always wanted to write it, but never got the time. Outline is done, story not started yet.

Bar Karaoke story: Secret Youtuber Dream finds guitar playing George at a bar doing karaoke and falls in love. This is the awkward (yet hilarious) story of how, with some 'help' from his friends, Dream tries to court him. Status: Whole outline done, not a single word written for the story itself.

First chapter land

Can't See Jealousy, I'm Colorblind: Everyone knows Dream 'simps' for George; it's half the reason their fans ship DNF so much. George doesn't mind, knowing their feelings are totally platonic. So when George sees a video of Dream acting similarly with another Youtuber, he shouldn't care. He shouldn't feel his breath stop, heart drop, stomch turn cold. George should be fine with it. Funny thing about the word should. Status: Outline is done, few pages into the start of the story.

The Four Fs: George has never gone all the way due to a sexuality crisis in college and Youtube distracting him afterwards. He decides he wants to change that, and who better than his more experienced best friend and housemate, Dream? But Dream has some concerns, and so the deal is set: They'll go through the 'four F's', and if George doesn't change his mind by his own birthday, Dream will have sex with him. Status: Outline all done, and a few pages into the first chapter.

Year of Love: George gets broken up with before New Year's Eve. While trying to process his feelings, George finds Kinoko cafe, a new shop down the street from his job. He meets the owner, Sapnap, and a man named Dream that he accidentally loses a bet for. Follow his year of feelings and flirting, told by holidays. Status: Outline is done, I believe three holiday visits are finished. But there's like, ten or so in total so it's not even close to done.

On our way!

I Don't Dance: Sapnap doesn't dance, until he meets Karl. (Or the 6+1 about Karl and Sapnap being in love through dance) Status: Four of the seven chapters done. Chapter five has given me a hard time so I'm stuck. >.<

Redolance: Rework of the Redolance story I started pre-pandemic. Basically, what happens to the DSMP crew when a virus hits that changes how all facets of society function based on their scent. Status: Reworked idea, plotlines, character points, and have about 13 chapters done. Only two relationships in the story, but the whole DSMP crew is intertwined.

So that's my list. Wow, I have way more ideas that I thought I did. >.> Anyways, if any of these really tickled your fancy or you want to see done before the rest, let me know. I'm trying to dedicate time to the ones closer to being done or at least started, but some of the others (*cough cough* Rollercoaster *cough cough*) are totally taking over my brain.

Will update this each month to let people know where I'm at! ^.^

[coffeecaffineandeverythinginbtwn]

Here is my @maribat-secret-santa-2020 gift for @liquid-luck-00

I’m really sorry It’s not finished (i had trouble finishing it due to school and some rough mental health problems) but I will be posting the outline so you can know the rest of what I had planned!

again i’m so so so sorry it’s not done. happy new year! please enjoy!

:readmore:

Marinette and the Runaway Assassin

~

Marinette Grason and the Runaway Assassin

The first thing they could remember was always flying.

Their parents always told them that the first thing a Grayson ever did was fly.

Whether it be him tossing his sister in the air as she did flips, or flying on the low swing trapeze with his mother and father. they were born soaring.

Their family was the best of the best. Humans with the agility and grace of birds. Their family never stayed on the ground for long. Nothing could keep a Grayson on the ground.

Until they fell.

Their wonderful parents never flew again.

~

Dick was trying his best to keep it together, for his sister, but the pain was almost too much. He was just 16. What was he supposed to do now? He wasn’t of age to care for Marinette and he certainly didn't have much money at all.

It was two days after the fall that killed their parents. Dick had cried himself to sleep, so full of grief, stress and uncertainty the night before. He wanted, no, needed to keep his sister safe, but what were they supposed to do? Live on the street? Marinette deserved better than that. Not to mention her schooling. There was just so many things he needed to think about he had no idea if they’d ever even survive -

A knock sounded at the door, startling Dick from his thoughts.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice came from behind the door, “I would like to speak to a mister Dick Grayson.” With those words the pit inside his stomach grew. It was probably some social worker coming to separate him from the only family he had left.

Dick opened the door and saw a large man with dark hair and blue eyes in a suit, “If you’re here to take me and my sister to some orphanage, leave now. It’s not going to happen. Get lost.” Dick, the normally polite boy, ended his statement by quickly closing the door.

“Wait!” The man jumped in, using his foot to jam the door. “I’m not a social worker. Mister Grayson I presume?” Dick just narrowed his eyes and nodded his head, “My name is Bruce Wayne. I was hoping to come to an arrangement that would greatly help you and your sister.

Dick had the urge to scoff, but he let the man, Bruce, continue.

“You see, I lost my parents at a young age as well. I want to make you and Miss Marinette my wards. You two would both get to live in my manor with your own room and have all the things you two would need to live a happy life. And you would not be separated. This can all happen effective immediately, as soon as you say the word. So, What do you say?”

This was insane. It was everything he and Mari could need. They could lead a normal, safe, and good life. There were so many goods that could come of this and yet…

Graysons are never tied to the ground my little robin. We must never be afraid to spread our own wings and soar. We are free spirits and we fly our own way.

With only that thought in his head, his ressove hardened.

“While I appreciate the offer Mister Wayne, I’m afraid I have to decline.” He began, “My parents used to say that we should never let ourselves be tied down. They were free-spirited and loved to travel. I want my sister and I to continue their legacy.”

Bruce looked a little shocked at this, and also a bit put out., but he quickly covered it with a determined look of his own.

“I see. If I cannot assist with housing, please let me help in any other way possible. Money is no issue, I can promise you that.” Bruce looked so ready to help them. And hell, if they couldn't use the help.

Dick was at a loss for words, “I- Mister Wayne- I can’t thank you enough!” Marinette would get to have the life their parents would have wanted for her. He didn’t have to worry about money any more. They could be free and go where the wind would take them. This flood of relief he felt did ease his grief a little for only a moment. It was one weight lifted off his shoulders.

“It’s the least I could do Mister Grayson.” He nodded, looking a bit relieved himself.

“Please, call me Dick Mister Wayne.” At that Bruce’s mouth quirked upwards the tiniest bit.

“Only if you call me Bruce.”

~

Over the next few years, Dick and Marinette went everywhere imaginable, traveling with the circus.

Eventually they decided to travel at their own pace. Marinette instided they spend more time in their favorite countries. They spent a few months in each, both gathering a love for each culture and language. Marinette especially took a bit of every country with her, absorbing each like a sponge.

Without the circus to keep them active in their travels and with barely any means to keep themselves protected, Dick and Marinette accumulated a mesh of different fighting styles. Neither ever truly mastered one, but both fought in a way very specific to them.

~

Currently somewhere in Italy, the two were waiting for one of their mentors to arrive for a meeting.

“Duckie!!” Marinette, now nine, ran to her brother with that particular spark in her eye, “Duckie! Guess what!”

Dick, smiled a little at the familiar nickname, “What’s up Nettie?”

Marinette jumped up and down excitedly. “Look what I can do!”

The small girl smiled and ran a little ways into the field nearby and did three handsprings to the shock, and pride of her brother.

“Good job Marinette,“ A voice that was not Dick‘s called from behind them, “I’m glad to see that you are improving well.”

An overall average looking man in his late 30’s wearing a firm, yet warm expression walked towards them.

Their mentor, Malachi Dobraski.

“Uncle Chi!” The Marinettw siblings voiced, running to him.

Malachi’s mouth turned upwards at the sibling’s outburst. “Yes, yes I have finally arrived. You two are, of course, ever so humbled to be in my presence.” There was a stretch of silence before the three burst out in laughter.

“Wonderful to see you two as always.” He said as he bent down to give Marinette a hug.

“So what did you need Malachi? You never call meetings so early in the month.” Dick said as he turned to face him.

Malachi hummed in an impressed manner, “Very astute Richard. I asked you here today because I wanted you to meet a friend of mine I had mentioned earlier. Gina, If you remember.”

At the mention of the woman Marinette perked up, The one who travels all around the world like us? We really get to meet her?” She topped off her questions with a wiggle of excitement.

“We’ll have to see about that Nettie.” Dick spoke fondly as he smiled at his sister’s antics. He then turned his attention to Malachi, “Will she be in town soon? You’re rarely one to throw out praise for no reason and you’ve spoken highly of her in the past.”

“She is a lady well deserving of my praise, Richard. To answer your question, yes. Ms. Gina will be in town Thursday evening.” their mentor said with another small grin.

Dick hummed while tapping his chin, “That’s about two days from now. Unfortunately me and Mari probably won’t be able to meet with her right away. We’re tied up until Saturday I believe. Will she be in town for long?”

“Gina is a free spirit, so it’s hard to say. However she has been interested in you two since I mentioned I was taking students again. I expect she’ll stay long enough to meet you.”

“That’s great!” Dick said, as cheerful as ever, “That settles it then.”

“Yay! We get to meet aunt Gina!” Marinette exclaimed, jumping up and down.

Instead of correcting his sister, Dick just shook his head with a laugh. Why does everyone we hear of instantly become family?

~

Marinette sat at a tall table in a quiet cafe. Her tiny legs swung eagerly underneath her as she hummed to herself. Her brother was up at the counter ordering their drinks. She was sketching, or trying to. It was really hard to focus when she was so full of jitters.

Today was the day they were supposed to meet Ms. Gina and while Marinette was excited, she was just as, if not more, nervous. She has always been this way with new people.

————————

That is the end of what i have written BUT NOW the outline:

Section One

Dick is older in this 16/17

Mari is 5 or 6

They grow up with their parents, until they die, again.

Dick is old enough to be emancipated/take custody of Mari

(Bruce didn’t adopt them but he helped Dick get emancipated and gave them loads of money)

Their parents were free spirits and loved to travel

Dick decides they should keep that alive.

The two stay with the circus traveling for around a year

And they continue to travel for 1 or 2 years

They meet Gina

Dick kinda wants to settle down Gina recommends Paris

They go to Paris

They get an apartment (thank you plot convenient Bruce money)

(she’s around 10 or 11 now. He’s 19 or 20 now)

Dick wants Mari to make friends or get a feel for regular school so she goes to FD

Section Two

Separately, Damian and the league are in turmoil (the coup happens)

Thalia might die Idk

Damian, not knowing what else to do, flees to Paris?

Tom and Sabine have always wanted children but were never successful

They find this aggressive child on the streets of course they take him in

Damian would grumble about their ‘lower status’ but would of course be secretly grateful and surprised at the unconditional love and care he receives from T and S

Section THree

Back to Mari

Being raised by Dick, she learned to be true to herself and also headstrong

She takes no crap from Chloé

(She eventually learns of her situation with her mother and they become less aggressive towards each other)

(she also learns a lot of different skills and fashion things)

Section Four

Damian arrives at FD

(He’s like 10 or 11 Mari is like 11)

Damian and Mari are both ahead of the curriculum (Both home schooled) same class

She is her kind self, doesn't know anyone else well and Dami is another new kid.

They stick together out of a sort of necessity

He’s cold at first but (go figure) he softens for her eventually

They slowly grow closer as friends

Dick becomes another behaviour mentor and Brother esq figure to Dami

Dick also sees Daminette’s in love right away

He teases Mari about it

Bada Boom they're 13 now

Section Five

Miraculos canon GO

Mari gets ladybug Dami gets cat

Mari doesn't get a crush on Adrien (the gum incident doesn’t happen because Chlo and Mari are on better terms)

Mari and Dami both immediately recognize each other in costume

Mari’s outfit is black with red detailing sans her cape/glider that’s full red with the five black spots. Has deep red boots that go up to the knee. Her ribbons are longer and can detach to use as a makeshift ribbon dance things (she also goes by Ladybird instead of Ladybug)

Damian’s outfit is his assassin outfit but black and tan undertones with cat ears (his pupils don’t change to slits) Damian goes by Leopard

Dick notices a change immediately He confronts Mari, She caves and tells him too

(She consequently reveals Damian’s Identity as well. No one could have that kind of chemistry with Mari that quickly)

He signs her up for many martial arts classes (She already had training in a few, picking up a lot from her travels)

Damian also helps train Mari in some ~Assassin Skills~

Basically, they’re bad asses.

The only thing stopping them from defeating Hawkey boy quickly is the fact that they can’t find where he is

Section Six

Moving on, Salt

Lila happens

Lila still sets her sights on Adrian (he’s got money at this point Damian is just a baker's boy to Lila.

Lila isolates the two from the rest of the class, even more so than they already were

Damian thinks the class are even bigger idiots

Lila is still an awful person and wants to make both Dami and Mari’s live miserable

Lila tries to go to Dick about Mari “bullying” her

He laughs in her face (he choses laughter instead of seething anger. thanks Hawky)

Lila then tries to get through to Tom and Sabine about Damian

This time it works, they have less reason to trust Damian (and he was also a major prick when they first took him in

(this happens over a year or so. Lila slowly gaining the trust of the class and Tom and Sabine)

The environment gets very toxic Dami and Mari decide to leave the school and go to online schooling (like at college level)

Section Seven

Time skip. They are 16 now

The two have had feelings for a while, they now realize them

Dami is less emotionally stunted, having both Dick and Mari around (Tom and Sabine too but they kinda suck now) so he doesn’t panic much

Mari is full panic mode

Dick is just in the corner all smug-like. (“you didn’t know you loved him? I’ve known this for years”)

Que pining

Lots of pining

There’s some angst, Tom and Sabine are negligent towards Damian (not mean but still neglectful)

He ends up staying with Dick and Mari more often than not

Eventually they both confess after a particularly rough akuma battle (the one where mari becomes the guardian?)

Both of them almost watched the other die. That was too heartbreaking for either of them to not confess

So they are together now.

It was an easy transition, they were already married pretty much

They’ve already figured out who Hawky boy is. They just need evidence

They get evidence. They also discover Lila was working with him

They take care of the Hawkmoth situation

Section Eight

Everything is good now right? Wrong

Batman Finally goes to Paris once Hawky is defeated,

(he kept in touch with Dick all these years and knew what was going on, {He practically became their “uncle Bruce”} He only stayed away cuz Hawkmoth)

When Damian sees Bruce visiting Mari’s House he freezes,

Mari: “what's wrong Dami?”

Dami: *whispers in her ear*

M: “He’s your WHAT???”

D; *whispers more*

M: “I- You- Um- WHAT”

D: *walks up to Bruce* “Hello, I know this is an odd way to meet but I am sure you know of Thalia Al’ Ghoul.” *B nods wairily* “Yes, well, I am your son. And unfortunately hers as well.”

“Yes, I’d be perfectly happy to do a blood test.”

Dick and Mari are shook

“Damian, You must come to live with me in Gotham”

Dun

Dun

Dunnnnnn!!!!!

End Part One

Again I am sincerely sorry I was not able to complete this story in time. Like I said before, I will (maybe/probably) be finishing this and planning a part two! I hope you enjoyed! (even though it’s the first fanfic i’ve written)

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 6

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron 

Chapter 6 - Ruin

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Mentions of war/death, kissing, a healthy dose of the ‘sharing a bed’ trope, ANGST, sexual education because who doesn’t want to read about that in fanfiction, vague description of a female medical procedure

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

~

A softened sigh left me, knowing it was probably time to let Poe say his piece. He’d been so silent until now that I felt compelled to hear what had been stirring inside his mind while I’d held him in quiet contempt.

“Alright. I’m listening.”

He flicked on one of the dimmed lamps next to the bed, a gentle glow illuminating the room, watching as he proceeded to carefully extricate himself from under the sheets, the soreness as a result of the rehab we’d performed today now evident in his concentrated expression.

I drew myself up into a seated position on the sofa as he made his way to sit on the small table at my front, not attempting to meet my eyes until he’d slowly placed himself down on the metal. His face was less than a meter from mine, pupils drifting upwards until finally, our stares locked.

“I’m sorry,” he declared, his words heavy. “I understand why you’re angry. I get it, okay? Years of battle after battle, fight after fight, it becomes difficult to consider those working under the First Order’s control as people. People with families, loved ones, even children. They appear as targets, there simply to be eliminated. And it’s you or them. Either you perish, or you put the rational thought into the back of your mind and fight back.”

Poe glanced down, fixated to the floor, his jaw tight. “I do think about it sometimes, the people I’ve... murdered. I’ve spent sleepless nights wondering if killing in the name of freedom was a good enough reason to send people to an early death. When you don’t see their faces it’s…. easier. You don’t see the bloodshed, the corpses. You just see the fiery explosion of their ships fading into the black void of space.”

I stayed rigid in the sofa, hands clutching the into cushions. It was difficult to hold down the simmer of anger that boiled in my stomach, since everything so far only reinforced what I felt like I’d determined hours ago. Even while my demeanour remained stormy, Poe continued.

“All I heard in my childhood was my father reminding me of the way he and my mother fought for what they believed to be right. Both of them lived and battled through a time like ours, under the thumb of a regime hungry for power, sparing no innocents in their pursuit of it.” He became lost in memory, the aura drifting around him stained with a subtle sorrow. “‘People were hurting. People were suffering. Your father and I couldn’t sit and do nothing.’ That’s what my mother had told me, a child of two, as her reasoning for joining the Alliance in their efforts to push back against what threatened all type of freedom in this galaxy. My parents offered to sacrifice their lives on the tiniest shred of hope that me, and every other being on every planet, would see peace in their lifetime.”

His eyes finally shifted back to focus on mine. They were determined, yet soft, the chocolate fibers of his irises melting together. “I just... wanted to be like her. Like them. I wanted to do what they did. I wanted them to be proud of me, to have faith that their legacy would live on after they were gone. To provide freedom and peace like they had. Even if that meant sacrificing my own life, even if that meant killing those who opposed it. I had to. I had to join the people that wanted the same thing as me.”

A growing ferocity began to radiate, his voice severe. “I witnessed so many of my fellow soldiers, my friends, die thoughtlessly at the hands of others. And I wanted them to feel the same pain that I felt. Is it hypocritical? Of course, I know that. Is it cruel? Yes, murder is rarely not. But it's in the name of protection, defiance against control from an overpowering force. Those who fight with the First Order, who take over planets and kill innocents for the sake of power, they know what they’re doing. They know the consequences, the outcome, the hold the galaxy will be strangled under if they succeed. And they do it anyway. Our cause isn’t more noble, it’s self-defence. We’re trying to protect the ones who aren’t able to fight back, and those who don’t deserve to be born into a world that will crush them into submission.”

Poe’s features turned darker, leaning in close. “I will never stop thinking about the lives I’ve taken. I will never not hold myself accountable for the sins I’ve committed. But I will also not sit and do nothing. I don’t need you to accept it, but at least try to understand. You and I want the same thing, in the end, to save as many people as possible in our short lifetime. I’m just doing the best I can to see that through.”

While I instinctively took a breath in preparation to speak, nothing came. He’d rendered me speechless.

I had no reply to give, no counterargument, no flaw to point out. His honesty floored me, raw emotion and long-felt guilt rising up for me to observe so openly. The pain behind his eyes seemed so much more acute than any of the other injuries he’d sustained, not trying to shield it from my view as he spoke.

I tried to find words, anything to articulate my forgiveness. Because I did understand. He’d made me see it, the same anguish over death that I felt. But he’d also made me realise what a coward I was.

Against the people who would kill him or control him, he fought back. While I hid myself away under the guise of selflessness.

I thought I was the hero of my story, giving up my home, my old life, for the benefit of the downtrodden people of this planet. In reality, I was a scared little girl, too gutless to push back against those I, and so many others in this galaxy, feared. And here Poe was, putting himself in harm’s way, every day, in the hopes that he could take away our fear forever.  

He began to rise in front of me, taking my lack of reply as an answer in itself. He seemed despondent, his face sullen as he turned to limp back to the bed.

A different kind of fury coursed through me, fury at myself for how easily I’d judged him, at how cruelly I’d treated him.

I couldn’t let the night end this way.

I picked myself up from the sofa and quickly lunged at his wrist, pulling him to face me. He was surprised, glancing with wide eyes to where my hand had caught him, then to my face. I tried desperately to convey it there, everything I wanted to say, struggling to find my voice. Poe waited for me to speak the words I clearly had sitting on the edge of my tongue, but everything I conjured didn’t seem to be enough, the jumbled thoughts swirling incoherently in my mind, never letting me quite grasp onto them long enough to form exactly what I needed to express.

Tension filled the space between us, thick and overwhelming. I soon began outlining the lines of his face, the crease currently stuck in his brow, the curve of his nose, the contour of his jaw, the arch of his lips.

My hands found themselves catching each side of his face, pulling his mouth to mine in a desperate kiss.

I’d held it back for so long, too long, now unable to deny the burning urge to melt my lips into his. He was alarmed at first, his mouth frozen from movement as he comprehended my sudden attack.

Yet quickly he was syncing his lips fluidly with mine, a hand rising to clutch the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His casted arm curled around my waist, pressing my body into his, feeling the heat radiating off his chest.

The fire in my lower abdomen roared into bright red flames again, spreading into the rest of my body like molten lava. He tasted even better than I’d imagined, our tongues beginning to find each other through parted mouths. Fingers moved into his hair, hungrily grasping at the curled strands, causing a low moan to seep from his throat. The sound made me even more forceful in my need for his lips to be connected with mine, barely having time to breathe in-between our eager kisses.

I wanted to have him, all of him, so deeply it was painful, the searing burn lighting up in my veins.

Don’t do this Alexys. It will ruin you.

My breath hitched as I reluctantly pulled away, looking up, seeing his pupils swollen. He was cautious then, moving his hand from my neck to push a strand of hair behind my ear, almost if at any moment I would flee from his embrace.

And that’s what half of me was begging to do, the other screaming at me to lock our lips together again. I felt split into two, a cracking beginning to divide me roughly in the middle.

I could see Poe searching through my gaze, trying to assess my thoughts, whether it was safe to continue. He leaned in gradually, testing my reaction. I didn’t recoil this time. I didn’t want to.

His lips melted into mine, less insistent than before, although somehow just as intimate. Inhibitions lowered, my hands slid down to his chest, noticing the hard muscles underneath my palms and feeling the fire inside me surge. I wanted to feel the bare skin underneath, to have it pressed against my own. To explore the other parts of him covered by clothes. To forget even for a short time that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this.

Poe gently withdrew, leaning his forehead into mine. “I know.”

“Know what?”

He exhaled a long breath. “I know you don’t want to do this.”

I replaced my hands to his cheeks. “You have no idea how much I want this. How much I want you.” The truth of the words made me feel both vulnerable and safe, for the first time giving in to the yearning I’d hoped to keep locked inside my chest.

He tensed, a slight tremble in the arm that curved around my body. But his face grew sombre, almost... sad. “You don’t. Not completely. I can feel you wanting to hold back,” he murmured. “I can feel your fear.”

I swallowed hard, unable to refute him. “…I’m sorry. I want to. But I just… I can’t."

We both looked down, my confirmation making the tone of our connection shift. He was silent for what felt like a long time, and we stayed motionless in our embrace, neither wanting it to end, knowing it was inevitable that we would have to part.

“Why?” he breathed. “Why are you afraid?”

I wanted to be honest with him, like he had been for me, so much the sensation felt like it was clawing out from inside me, determined to burst through the skin. But there was a barrier there, one I had forged long ago. Unyielding and impenetrable to anything or anyone.

Although, I felt another realisation simmer to the surface of my mind, one that was not nearly as exposing, but still true.

“You’re going to leave. And I have to stay here. I don’t… I don’t want that to hurt any more than it has to.”

It seemed to hit him then, like he hadn’t let the thought enter his mind before. The awareness of our predicament shone brightly in his eyes, a light switch flickering on.

His hand moved to my cheek, grazing his thumb softly against the skin, my heart throbbing inside its cage at his light touch. I watched as eyes scanned over my face, back and forth, as if memorising the features. It was then I knew he’d come to the same conclusion.

It wouldn’t be long before we would part, most likely to never see each other again. If we went any further, if we crossed that line, the pain of saying goodbye would become so much more unbearable.

Almost simultaneously, we let our hold on each other loosen, the disappointment in the air almost palatable on my tongue. The smouldering inside had burnt out, suffocated by the gloom weighing heavy in my chest. Poe took my hand in his, his eyes pleading. “Can I ask one thing of you?’

I moved my head in a slow nod.

“Sleep in this bed with me tonight. Just sleep. I promise.” It was an earnest request, his face imploring and unguarded.

In contempt of the voice in my head bellowing at me that this was a terrible idea, I agreed. “Okay.”

Together we tentatively walked to each side of the mattress, making no rush to slip under the covers and settle into the pillows. I faced away, fearing if I looked at Poe's charming face any longer, I would surrender to the pull of desire that never seemed to relent. I didn’t know how I was ever going to be able to fall asleep like this, his body radiating an energy that vibrated into the space between us, keeping me all too aware of his presence.

There was movement, a dip in the mattress, Poe’s arms curling around my torso, pulling me close. His face buried itself into my hair, the warmth of his gradual exhale sending charged shivers down my spine. Placing my arms over his, silently accepting his embrace, I felt my heart thump a calming glow through my chest, all the way to the end of my limbs.

I’d never felt so peaceful, so whole, becoming lost in the comfort of his hold, wishing I could bask in it forever.

But reality bit at me, cold and uninvited, reminding me of the goodbye I would have to give soon enough.

*

We were still entangled when consciousness came again, the dim light of early sunrise leaking through my window. Poe’s arms circled around me, my body fitting perfectly into his.

He was still asleep, his face resting just at the back of my head, slow breaths bristling into my hair. I relished the feeling of it all, trying to commit it to my memory.

I stayed there, motionless, waiting for time to run out, knowing I would be chasing the feeling of this in the months, maybe years, to come. Thinking about his future absence made me terrifyingly lonely, even with his arms wrapped around now.

Eventually the seconds ticked down to my chronometer alarm buzzing, rustling Poe awake from his slumber. I assumed he would begin to move, pulling away, this one night that bonded us together finally ending. Yet he stayed as unmoving as I had been, the only indication he had awoken the increased depth of his inhale, a small tense of his muscles. I went to move, to switch the screeching sound off, but he clutched me back into his chest, squeezing tight.

As much as my heart thumped at the pressure of his hips into mine, the noise of my alarm was grating. “Let me turn it off,” I whispered. “I’ll come right back.”

Poe loosened his grip reluctantly, allowing me to reach over to the screeching machine and mute its sound. I settled back comfortably into his arms again, as he nuzzled his face into my neck, lips faintly placing a kiss on the skin.

“Poe… please… don’t…”

His sigh whistled past my neck. “Come with me, when I leave.”

It annoyed me, his fleeting demand so easily spoken. As if I could suddenly give up all that encompassed my life before he appeared, the beings that depended on me. But his voice was so sincere, so entreating in the early morning, that the irritation dashed away from the forefront of my mind.

“You know I can’t do that.”

He acknowledged my answer in the shift of his body from around me, moving himself out of the bed we had shared for the night and leaving me alone underneath the sheets.

It burned, the unprecedented disconnection of his shape from mine, my chest forming into a black hole in the realisation I might never feel him that close again.

I wanted to let my emotion to take over, to give in to the pain that rushed to me now as the finality of our night cradled together became evident. But I refused to release it, my resolve from the night before holding strong. I knew I’d made it harder by giving in to Poe's innocent plea of sharing a slumber within his embrace, but I wasn’t going to let our farewell completely ruin me.

With a forced composure, I rose from my bedside, focusing on the appointments scheduled to fill my day. Through my haze I recalled many of them being young female patients in need of birth control. I would somehow have to shut Poe away, wanting to give these women the privacy they deserved.

*

Poe and I appeared to use the ‘freshers at the same time, the searing heat I usually liked being showered with restrained no matter how high I pushed the temperature button. Eventually I’d readied myself for the workday ahead, deciding on a pencil skirt and lightened blue blouse tucked into the waist, working my hair into a ponytail.

It was when I’d begun making breakfast, for both myself and all the company that I kept in the clinic at the moment, that Poe emerged back into my quarters in a set of dark black hospital clothes. I glanced at him only briefly as he entered, hearing him pull out a chair, not daring to look at his face yet.

“Smells good,” he uttered, breaking the silence that existed in exemption to the sautéed chicken eggs and nuna bacon sizzling in the large pan in front of me.

“It’s almost ready,” I remarked, feeling completely the disconnection between us in his tone. Half of me was glad he accepted the separation we needed to make, the other mourning the severed bond we had formed in the connection of our bodies. But I had to let it go, whatever was left of the fragile link that survived the night.

I continued preparing the hot meal, separating the foodstuff between Poe and Vixur’s crew. Once I’d gently placed a share in front of Poe at the table, a smile meeting him fleetingly, I took the rest with me, balancing the four dishes on my hands and forearms, moving cautiously through the hallway.

With impeccable timing Vixur and his students were conversing between each other, obviously having woken just before I came to greet them.

“I’ve got breakfast for you all,” I announced, setting it down at the meeting table across from my computer. It was generally used as a place I could sit with patients and their families when giving them their diagnosis or explaining treatment plans, but today it would have to work as a secondary dining table. All four men jabbered back thankyous as they moved quickly to sit and eat, their appreciation evident in the way they gulped down the meal without hesitation. I returned to my quarters to find Poe picking lazily at his food, only a few bites eaten.

“Does it taste bad?” I asked from behind him, before circling to my seat at the table.

He looked up swiftly, as if I’d startled him. He must have been deeply lost in thought not to hear me treading down the hallway.

“It’s delicious,” he urged. “I’m just… not that hungry.”

“Are you feeling alright? Are you still sore? Are you-“

“Alex, I’m fine,” he interrupted. “You can’t fix a bad mood with any of your treatments.”

I looked at him curiously. “Bad mood?”

Did I do that to him?

“Did you not sleep well?”

He didn’t answer me right away, a subtle scowl settling in his lips. “It was actually... the most restful sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

I fought the urge to beam at him, a smile waiting to form, but the gloomy expression he wore held it down. I had to agree with him - it truly was the most comfortable rest I’d experienced in recent memory. And knowing I would never feel that peaceful, dreamless slumber in his arms again made me fully understand why he was frowning.

“Thank you so much for the meal Alex. I just... don’t have an appetite right now.” Poe rose from his seat and took his plate to clean, his sombre mood spilling into my body and taking over. Wringing his hands dry, He turned back to me. “Is it still alright if I keep using your office to continue working on BB-8?”

I nodded. “It would actually be preferable. Most of my patients today are women, and I need privacy for their appointments. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out, okay?”

Poe understood what I’d only hinted at. “Sure thing. I won’t step a foot out that room without your permission.”

A kind smile formed on his lips, but it fell as he moved from my quarters, leaving me to my breakfast, which now seemed extremely unappetizing.

*

“Well, Kaia, you’ve got a couple of options,” I started. It was my 5th appointment of the day, and I was starting to lose all hope in the young generation that followed mine. “You can get the implant, which lasts 5 years and protects you from pregnancy. But it can be a painful procedure, and unfortunately the implant itself is quite expensive. There are injections which last 3 months, but you’ll have to see me again in that time frame. I know that’s hard for you being from the South village. But there’s always prophylactics, which your partner has to use, every separate time you want to be intimate.”

Kaia was a 17-year-old human girl who had obviously not been taught any helpful sex education. Although, that wasn’t uncommon in these villages.

“But, like,” she began to question. “Can’t he just, like, not, um, finish in there?”

I drew in a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time I’d explained this today. “Technically yes, if he withdraws from you before that moment comes, it does lessen the chance of pregnancy. But Kaia, there’s a lot of fluid already leaking from him before then, fluid that can contain sperm. It doesn’t protect you. Not fully.”

Kaia was thoughtful, taking in my words. “But what if he doesn’t want to use the sheath?”

“Well... that’s his decision. But then you have to make yours. A decision that you’re more than allowed to make. One night could lead to either a future of motherhood or even diseases that could cause a great deal of damage to your body.”

“Ew,” Kaia recoiled. “I mean, I get what you’re saying. But Miss Jago, haven’t you ever been so swept up in the moment that you didn’t think about any of that?”

My jaw clenched, catching me off guard with her question. None of the other women had posed it to me. “It’s not been an issue for me,” I said flatly.

“Because of the birth control, right?” she surmised. “Which one do you use then?”

Oof, caught me out again.

“I don’t have the need for it. Kaia, this is not about me-”

“Wait, what?” she gasped. “But you’re so pretty?”

I soaked my voice in its professional tone. “This is your appointment Kaia, we’re not here to discuss my personal life.”

Kaia refused to comply. “But you’ve done it, right?”

I sighed, irritated. “Yes Kaia, but we took all the necessary precautions.”

“Well that doesn’t make it sound very fun,” Kaia huffed.

I tried desperately to hold back the aversion wanting to show on my face. It hadn’t been fun. It was clunky, awkward and somewhat painful. And I felt a spike of envy that this teenager already seemed to have had better experience with the opposite sex than I did.

“Look, your options are there. If I had to choose one, and I was with a partner I could trust had nothing that could spread to me, I’d go with the implant.”

She contemplated my advice, pulling her hands up to let her chin rest on them. “I think you’re right Miss Jago. But my parents would never help me pay for it.”

“That’s alright,” I replied, already knowing the home situation Kaia found herself in. She’d made the trek to my clinic alone, without her parent’s knowledge, just to see me for this single reason. I doubted they even knew she had a boyfriend. “How about I put the implant in today, and we figure out payment later?”

Kaia’s face lit up, eyes brimming with delight. “Really?”

I smiled at her and nodded.

“Thank you!” she squealed, face barely containing her excitement.

Really, this was for both her benefit and my own. I wasn’t about to face her parents when it would ultimately be me providing the news their daughter was pregnant. I didn’t want Kaia to go through that, a young pregnancy in a poor village after her parents would most likely cast her out.

“Remember I said this can be a painful procedure, and you’ll be sore for a day or two afterwards.”

Kaia nodded, understanding, yet unable to hold back her joy.

*

I worked my way through the process of setting her implant, my mind on autopilot while I thought more about the question Kaia innocently queried. I’d never come close to the type of desire that would have caused me to throw away all caution and rational thought. Not until-

“Hey Alex!” I heard from the other side of the curtain I’d drawn for Kaia’s discretion. “I know I said I wouldn’t come out until you said, but I’ve got something I need to show you.”

Poe’s voice was exuberant and proud, annoyingly unaware of the fact I had my hand in a very delicate place. My eyes shot to Kaia’s, her cheeks already flushing red with mortification.

“Poe!” I fumed, not hiding my anger. “I asked you to do one thing!”

I sensed his panic from behind the fabric separating us. “Kriff! Sorry!” His voice changed when he spoke next, a hurried whisper. “BB, come back here! We can’t show her yet!”

A streaming mechanical movement could be heard in my periphery, turning my head to see a shadow moving along the bottom of the curtain. I took the moment to stop what I was doing, covering Kaia with a sheet.

I was thankful I did that when the BB-8 droid slip through a break in the drape, caring little for what Poe had ordered him to do. His little head sat hovering above his balled body, for the first time actually staying in position. The photoreceptor, which looked like a singular eye, was also finally lit as he zoomed closer. While an impressed smirk started to beam as I realised Poe had managed to get his little friend working, it was rapidly overtaken by irritation at the droid’s lack of courtesy.

Poe was cursing under his breath, then apologetic. “Alex and uh, patient, I am so sorry. BB, get out of there!” BB-8 let out a few indiscernible beeps, a language I didn’t understand, although Poe seemed to. “I don’t care! They need privacy. You can see her later!” he hollered.

The droid made what sounded like a high-pitched huff as its head dropped, like it knew it had been scolded. Its head swivelled around on top it’s body and rolled away, again sliding through the break in the curtain.

“Come on, back this way.” I listened to the combination of footsteps and mechanical whirring move back into the hallway, a door eventually clicking closed. Looking apologetically back to Kaia, her face was still stunned at the intrusion.

“I am so sorry. I told him to stay put until my appointments were over. It’s okay if you want to stop for a moment,” I offered, trying to stay as calm as possible.

Kaia blinked purposefully a few times before being able to focus back to me. “No it’s okay. I’m ready.”

I admired her composure, while I remained silently boiling under the surface.

*

“What the hell Poe?” I snarled, barging into my office where Poe sat, seemingly interrupting a conversation he was having with BB-8. I’d clawed my anger into submission for the rest of Kaia’s appointment, but now it was ready to surge outward.

Poe stood, arms held up in surrender. “I know! I’m sorry! I didn’t think, and it was just really bad timing.” BB-8 beeped in what sounded like agreeance, rolling around from behind the office desk into my view.

“It was the worst timing!” I snapped. “That girl was 17, in a very vulnerable position, and you scared the living daylights out of her!”

“I know, and I can’t apologise enough Alex, really!” His face was pleading, brown eyes soft yet desperate. “I was just so excited about BB working again, and I wanted to show you.”

His sincerity disarmed me, my fury sizzling down, suffocated by his apology. I took a slow breath in, eyes closed, reigning it in further. “Please don’t disregard my instructions again,” I grumbled.

He nodded, as did BB-8, and my eyes focused on the droid. He was oddly cute in his appearance, his small beeps already annoyingly adorable. “Hello,” I greeted, all frustration now clean from my voice. “My name is Alexys.” I kneeled down to his eye level and he immediately wheeled directly in front of me, beeping somewhat of his own introduction.

“He said it’s nice to meet you,” Poe clarified, still hesitant at the easy change in my mood.

I looked up at him, curious. “You can understand those sounds he makes?”

“Most of it,” Poe answered. “It’s a form of Binary. Having him with me for so long helped me grow accustomed to the pitch and time changes in his beeps.”

My eyebrows rose, fascinated. “That’s so impressive.” BB-8 squealed in uneven time, his eye looking over to Poe, who almost looked bashful. “What? What did he say?”

He shot BB-8 an irritated look before meeting his eyes to mine. “It’s nothing important. His circuits are still a little fried.”

I wasn’t convinced, but then again I didn’t speak droid. "I'm glad you got him working,” I said earnestly, pleased there hadn’t been any type of casualty from his crash.

Poe sighed, relieved. “Me too. He’s the best co-pilot I’ve ever had.”

BB-8 whistled happily, evidently pleased with the praise, and its sweetness made me smile.

“Alexys?” Vixur suddenly called, his voice echoing down the hall. “Are you back there?”

I left Poe and BB-8 without a word, finding Vixur standing at the hallway entrance, his clothes smeared in dirt and dark grease. “Everything okay?”

Vixur nodded, evidently tired, still an accomplished grin filled his face. “We’re done actually. The comm-tower’s fixed.”

I wanted to smile back, to show my appreciation for his hard work, but it all became too hard to fake anymore.

This was it, the beginning of my goodbye to Poe. He would now be able to contact the Resistance, his friends, and he would soon be gone from my life just as suddenly as he arrived.

I forced the tears back as I hugged Vixur, doing all I could to hide my pain and show some kind of gratitude for the selfless work he had done.

Somehow Vixur sensed the turmoil simmering through me, patting my back softly. He pulled out of our embrace, speaking softly enough so Poe wouldn’t hear. “You needed this done for him, didn’t you?”

I nodded, the sadness hard to contain on my face. Vixur’s own expression was sympathetic as he squeezed my arm reassuringly. I didn’t need to explain anything, he just seemed to know.

“If it’s meant to be, you’ll find each other again.”

I drew in a long breath, furiously smothering the need to cry. I wanted to thank him more, for giving his time to me for little in return, but I couldn’t say the words out of fear the sudden sorrow would overwhelm me if I spoke out loud.

Vixur understood this, giving me a caring smile as he took his leave. “Well, we best be heading back to the village. I’ll see you sometime soon Alex. If I don’t, I wish you luck.”

And he was gone, the clinic door closing behind him, leaving me frozen in dread. A large part of me was reluctant to tell Poe the ‘good news’, but he’d waited long enough for his rescue from this planet.

I didn’t need to turn around to know he’d slinked out of the office to find me stuck where I stood, BB-8’s soft whirring following him.

“The comm-tower is ready, isn’t it?” Poe asked gently.

I forced myself to smile as I turned around, Poe’s expression not showing the relief I would have expected.

“Sure is,” I replied, the hint of quiver in my voice. “You can finally go home.”

I saw Poe’s lip tremble as he too attempted a smile, the disappointment in his eyes more indicative of his actual reaction to my answer.

Neither of us spoke for a long time, BB-8 looking back and forth quizzically, a few unsure beeps finally pierced in Poe’s direction. The sounds knocked us back into reality, as I moved to find the transmitter I’d stashed back into my tech station after determining its redundancy days ago.

The memories felt foreign, like they were from a different age. So little time had changed me so much, making me feel the most unstable and fragile I had felt in so long, on the verge of tipping into an overwhelming pain.

Poe had watched me in silence, unmoving. I eventually shifted the transmitter into his arms, an extremely aged, large box with an array of dusty buttons poking out of the rusted metal.

“It’s old, but it still works,” I insisted in a monotone, the emotion sucked from my voice. Poe only nodded, and gave me one last despairing glance as he turned away, carrying the machine into the study, BB-8 trailing behind him.

When the door closed, I couldn’t hold onto it any longer, the overpowering misery bursting free, its icy presence consuming me in a singular moment, the cold burn stinging as a few tears trickled down my cheeks.

What did I tell you?

The tears came faster at the sound of the voice, it’s condescension only making the suffering more excruciating.

No.

You’re wrong. I’m stronger than this.

I wiped away the errant tears defiantly, pulling myself together at the seams that had broken a few minutes ago, calming my breathing, trying to settle the trembling on inhale.

I’d made it through so much worse, pushed past crushing loneliness, fear and sadness, to make myself more resilient than I was behaving now. And I wasn’t going to let myself be caught in this vortex of emotion any longer.

I will not let this ruin me. 

~

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