#well its story-telling enough that it might as well be fanfiction too

[warsamongthestars]

BAD BATCH (CHARACTERS) + ECHO HEADCANONS-- WITH STORIED BITS!

Because I was inspired by tags, why not a round of BB HCs?

Not TBB, just BBs. The characters, and I'm coming out the Clone Wars primarily, with only bits taken from TBB. ( Like a good fanfic, Let's steal back the small good things )

I know, I analyze--so let's see how far I can stretch it, yeah?

Today we are HCing...

99 AND THE 99 PROJECT

THE BAD BATCH'S MUTATIONS (Thus their abilities)

DOMINO SQUAD

( I would label it as Mature (Because I have a general idea of labelling), but Tumblr decided to be fucking hilarious about it--so I'm going ask you to be Mature. There's nothing explicit here, its about as snarky as a Discworld novel. So Guess that means its Teens and Up, PG-13, or whatever. )

99 INSPIRED THE 99's PROJECT

"Old man 99!? THE JANITOR FROM KAMINO!?"

Whether 99 was an alphagen or a first-gen, the idea here is based on small TCWs comments. Stuff about "Growth" tubes.

Its probably in the capitalist-eugenics aliens' (kaminonians) interest to skip the uncomfortable bits in natural human growth. After all the uncomfortable bits of human growth aren't Profitable.

So, have an age to load a clone into a growth tube, and just, rapidly grow them until they're the stage you want (to be profitable). This means skipping teenage years. It means skipping the small childhood years.

So, given that 99 is mature and capable, he was likely loaded into a growth tube about where his "teen years" would start... and it went horribly wrong. Aging him by decades instead of a few years.

And the 99 project, would be Nala Se's little project, to find out why it went so wrong--and then to fix it for future clones. Because after all, you can't have an army of old men.

And judging by the fact that 99 is the only Old Man Clone we've seen in TCWs, I imagine the project worked as intended--and like any greedy eugenic science-capitalist, Nala Se decided:

"Y'know, I could do something more with this. I could find the most common 'bugs' in our clone genome, and I could stretch them, and modify them, and make benefits out of these flaws."

And the 99s were created

ADDENDUM - on Growth Tubes

Growth Tubes would only be successful if the human brain was stimulated rapidly as the body grew, or you risk compromising the human brain. Its a very delicate organ and rapid growth would be very bad. So flash-training, basically rapidly dumping organized information and sensory input, would occur over the course of the rapid-growth. This is to ensure you have a nice healthy human brain afterwards. There are clones who did end up with a "leaky growth tube" (rumors about Hardcase), where the only issue hat ended up happening is a deficit in attention spans and impulsiveness.

What's significant about First-Gen clones, is that they mostly went the old fashioned way of growing--as in slow (but accelerated) growing. After First-Gen, Kaminonians decided: "No, this is not fast enough... and its too stressful, Teenage clones complaining about growing pains and having attitudes--its just too much. What do they think this is, a Human Domicile?"

Fast-Tracked clones are those who ended up in a growth tube the majority of their time, and even then, skipped steps once they were out. Domino Squad, being fast-tracked, maintained the "attitude" flaws characteristic of those who didn't spend a whole lotta time working with brothers out of the tube.

This is also why all "standard" clones look older than their early twenties. Many were grown out, biologically hitting the fast-forward on growing years to be fully grown. Chronologically, they are official "10". They only have 10 years of life, by the start of the war. Accelerated Aging measurement? 20. Because they are made to age twice as fast a normal humans. Biologically? Mid-20 to early 30s. It helps the resemblance to their prime, and avoids any possibilities of "late growth spurts". Luckily, clones are made to stay in their prime far longer than a normal human.

2. THE MUTATIONS OF THE BAD BATCH "They're non-standard but with abilities not seen in even normal humans."

The problem with finding a 'flaw' in a genome is that you have to ask...

a). Who is saying there is a Flaw? Are they someone you want saying that there is a flaw?

b). Why is it a flaw? ... But is it really?

c). what are they going to do to "remedy" the "flaw"? Is it an actual remedy, or are they just saying it is.

And being capitalist-eugenic scientists, who study the science of profiting from genes and geneing from profits, certain "flaws" are going to be the non-profitable kind.

They probably think its a terrible terrible sin, that the human genome is not naturally made to make capital.

But through this list of Flaws, Nala Se decided--"we can gene splice can't we? Yes, why shouldn't I gene splice. I can make much better clones through splicing."

After all, if you're going to make money from genes, in order to do more geneing, adding more Genes should surely add more Money.

FOR WRECKER...

(Shift from "canon"--for thematic reasons, this Wrecker is 9901)

Kaminonians are baffled by how strong and yet delicate humans are. They can lift 300 pounds, and yet can still get crushed to death by 300 pounds.

Its ridiculous, really.

So Nala Se took notes and samples from the beauty and gracefulness that is the Rancor.

And for her designated 9901, gave him near instantaneously recovering muscle, that could lift 3x the normal 300 pounds of health humans, and indestructible bones.

Why if an explosion were to hit 9901's face head on fro the left side--it would not, in fact, pulverize his skull or any the soft tissues the skull protects. The eye would absolutely be kriffed though.

Sure, the increased metabolism might be a bit too grand for the rations...

But the Kaminonians were assured--they are specially crafted rations, and the clone will just have to adapt. Humans can just, not be hungry after all, why it takes a month for an average human to starve! If the clone complains, well he is getting fed so he wont' starve. It's a bargain, after all. He's lucky the Kaminonians are even bothering.

FOR HUNTER...

( Shift from "canon"--for thematic reasons, Hunter is now 9903 )

The various pores of the human face always seemed to... leak to the Kaminoinans. Why do humans have to do so much leaking? Ought to make all those "face pores" that do their "poring", do actual useful work for once.

So for 9903, he got an ampullae. Plenty of the predators on the planet of Kamino had ampullae, and they seem to get along just fine.

Because of the odd small organ network that encompassed his face and down his neck, connecting various natural human senses such as scent, taste, sight, and hearing, 9903 proved to be passively sensitive towards electromagnetic fields. He would always know where North is on a planet. He would always know where he was at, and what was around him.

Why, the Kaminonians though, that would be PERFECT for droids! Droids have electric-magnetic fields!

... The unfortunate fact, that the Kamionians neglected to add, is that Everything produced an electromagnetic field, and super imposing upon natural humans senses of "being sensitive to particles" and "being naturally sensitive to atomic wavelengths"...

is that it would be a sensory nightmare. A cacophony of hell from the very world around him, to consume him utterly.

Well... The clone will just have to adapt, as the Kaminonains say. By the very coral reefs of Kamino, the clones are just not grateful for the work we do over their petty little lives.

FOR CROSSHAIR...

( For thematic purposes--we're keeping 9904 )

Humans have such tiny eyes, the Kaminonians think, how do they see so much if they're so tiny? and sensitive. By the whale song of the sea, Human eyes are just Too Sensitive.

So for 9904, they gave him super sight. But not just super sight, but super duper protected sight. They decided that the vestigial "third eyelid" had no business being vestigial anymore, the lazy little thing, and regave it life in 9904's eyes.

Why it could protect from Water, and Dust, and Bright Lights.

And they, the Kaminonians, were really reeving up now. Why just stop there? Give him reflectors. Let him see in the dark!

Why didn't we think to do this for all the clones?

Because sudden lights and sudden darkness, would mess up his eyes immediately. Because long term lights would cause a sensory overload. And long term darkness would cause (temporary) color blindness.

And no amount of protection stops a blaster to the face.

Well, thinks the Kaminonains, Its not as bad as the last ones.

FOR TECH...

( For thematic purposes... he is 9906. Yes, I like "Baby Tech", shush you. )

We know exactly what to do with this one, thinks the Kaminonians. Humans are just so... Dull. We load their brains nice and healthy, and they're still so dull.

We want at least one to have an intelligent conversation with.

I KNOW, LET'S MODEL THIS ONE AFTER US--THE KAMINONIANS! And we're geniuses you know, why shouldn't at least... one clone, be a genius like us.

For 9906, they attempted the daunting task of Modifying the Brain. Increasing memory retention and synapses flexibility. Awareness and understanding--a living computational organ.

And 9906 was Perfect.

... Save that he did not like Kaminonians, because healthy human brains, by any standard, tend to develop things like "Understanding" and "Feelings for and about other People", and tend to greatly dislike those who want to treat other people monstrously.

Why, 9906 even argued against the treatment of Clones. Clones are capable of thought and creation, they are a people and thus their own culture.

And the Kaminonians mourned. Clearly, all the work they put into this brain was for Nothing!

It only wants to learn about the galaxy and discover the beauties and wonders behind technology and space and peoples--why, it doesn't think of Profit or Genes at all!

It even argued that it wasn't a Product to be Sold, but a person to be talked to. The Kaminonians found this scoffful.

It would learn, the Kaminonians decided, oh it would learn.

ADDENDUM

What about 9902 and 9905? Well... Heheheh.

DOMINO SQUAD "A real domino effect, this one."

There are birth batches, and there are batch-squads. Birth-batches separate to all become batch-squads... but not all batch-squads are from the same birth-batch.

Such is the case of the fast-tracked "Domino Squad". Because they were fast-tracked, these clones spent an unpresidented time in the growth-tube. And worse, each one had a falling out with their original batch-squad.

The one that would be known as "Hevy" was overly confrontational, and prone to starting fights. He failed out of his original batch-squad for his attitude and physical violence.

He mellowed out, once he found that his aggression lead to serious consequence, but it didn't completely stop the fights or the lone wolfing. (Until after graduation).

The one that would be known as "Cutup" never took anything seriously, and his old trainers (and old squad) had enough. The trooper didn't even take regulations seriously, and was caught with contraband (Cutup couldn't believe that simple playing cards were "contraband", haven't they ever heard of a game before?)

The one that would be known as "Droidbait", tended to give up too easily, in a total reverse to "Hevy's" situation. Surrender is not acceptable, and he'll have to relearn the hard way.

The one that would be known as "Fives", ironically, did not have a poor record following him for anything he did. Half of his birth-batch-squad were found deceased after a training exercise. The survivors were sent elsewhere. For this, Fives was a quiet, serious but very anxious cadet and rookie until he hit arc-trooper. He kept even his name close. Just in case. Fives got to watch one of the survivors graduate with Bravo Squad. He never found out what happened to him after that.. but he doesn't assume its good.

Always have to adapt on the fly, because if you don't, the situation might just kill you. No matter how "Safe" everyone says it is. In fact, especially if its "Safe".

The one that would be known as "Echo" was the most devious.

By all accounts, Echo was a stand up trooper--he read the regulations and followed them to the letter. He took pleasure in buffing his armor and uniform. He could recite exact rules, was perfect in inspections. He knew exactly where everything is and how to act as expected. A true "By the Book" trooper. Why, what could ever be wrong with Echo?

Because if you look like you belong, and if you know the rules, you can do Anything. And Echo, he knew that people knew that the Way Things Act were often considered more important than What Things Actually Are, but you still have to Play Expectations if you want to get what you want.

And Echo, he tended to learn how play expectations. The fact is, while it was considered an accident and misunderstanding--Echo put himself in a position to get transferred away from his old birth-squad.

( He had nothing against his old birth-batch. They were fine lads. But Echo refused to be canon-fodder. If he was going to go out into the galaxy and make a difference, he was going to do it his way--if he was going to get blown up, it was because he damn well decided he was going to get blown up, not because a general told him to. )

Yes it would mean being held back. But such is the price of prep work (He certainly didn't feel like he was ready--and he wanted to test the waters a bit longer), and well, there had to be brothers on Kamino, who actually think about what they're being told--not just blinding follow without consideration.

And you can only work the rules to your liking, if you know what the rules are. Good thing Echo likes to read.

ADDENDUM

Reason Birth-batch and Batch-Squad are separate, is because the general idea is that they birth clones enmass, but since we only ever see cadets in squads, they aren't necessarily trained enmass.

There had to be a reason why Echo had the Balls to jump Rank and talk to a General, as a cadet, as request transfer.

None of the numbers of Domino Squad match up to indicate that they're apart of the "Birth-Batch". So this sugested to me that they might be from different batches--and thusly, are probably a "throw them together" squad.

[fictionfixations]

going through 2.5

2.5 STORY SPOILERS

trigger warning later of minor character death. shown off screen but is described in a way that could sound horrible to the faint of heart

WHAT

i know i joked in my previous post when going through 2.4 that it sounded like the start of a fanfiction but im genuinely disgusted by this ew i was really fucking tempted to just write a fic where jiaoqiu beats his ass (even though i know hoolay is way more powerful then him) but also 2.5 already came out so i gotta get through the story before i get spoiled

the smart choice would be to do 2. but also fuck you hoolay im doing 1. HHH jiaoqiu's voice sounds so like. stressed. like trying to have composure but you can tell hes struggling a little.

also im sorry but hoolays human form looks so fucking ugly (okay maybe im biased but also FUCK YOU HOOLAY) idk ppl might still simp for him but also fuck you im on jiaoqius side >:(

STOPPP USING THE WORD ALPHA like ive heard it so many times in media im DONE i cant hear it the same 😭

"💀 " "None Can Hurt Me" UHHMSOFJFO i sure hope nothing happens to you buddy but

BURN BABY BURN

what the fuck im scared

wait but so i CAN go try to get help? IM SCARED WHAT HAPPENS. uh. uh. uh. FUCK YOU HOOLAY IM DOING IT

wait if i do this will he die. like the the the npc?!?!??!?! GUYSS

AHAHa.. AHgahah.... im. so fucing nervous

im. ohhhh fuck literal chills. im. should i look at what other options i can do to escape or. im so fucking stressed holy shit. logically speaking if jiaoqiu leaves and the ship gets sabotaged or whatever he could die (both him and npc). if he asks him to send a message then the npc will die. guys i hate this what the fuck

I HATE THAT ITS RED TEXT. okay with acheron it was a little startling but we never got like a warning that OUR ACTIONS have CONSEQUENCES. im so fucking scared

me too man. me too. idont want jiaoqiu to die thoguh what if what we choose changes whether or not he dies in canon im

okay ive talked to everyone. and the warning text for everyone is

the skarskiff(?) guy is just an ordinary person the realm keeping person is not prepared for this kind of emergency and that the cloud knight doesnt have backup (has the same choice options as the realm keeping person of borisin are here and introducing ourself)

also that we're being watched. who the fuck

okay the best option would be to cloud knight. but also is it a good idea? no. but. hiusgh. oh my god i hate this.

IM GOING TO BITE THE BULLET. i dont trust that this will end well for me but the logical option even if i get fucked later is to alert someone. a cloud knight knows what risks and responsibilities they're taking on by becoming one and if they die well fuck man but i REFUSE to just not do anything because that'd be like. playing into hoolays hands which 1. i hate him. 2. as a person who very much values my independence I NEED OUT OF THIS SITUATION

and maybe its what hoolay wants, for us to fail his 'test' but whatever. IM REBELLIOUS. (and probably really dumb)

cant wait to see how this affects story in the future. and also seeing how different choices affect things when i watch other people do this. haha. but predicting that they might not talk to anyone out of fear IM going to talk to someone

uhh im going to introduce myself first. its like how you're meant to share your address first in emergencies or something i think maybe? because if the call cuts out then they can find you quickly (i think your phone can be tracked but it takes awhile its not that easy i think?)

okay i did it. wheres the guy who was watching me i cant remember where he was. is he gone? did he disappear? i acnt tell im so fuckings tressed

nothing happened but. but the cloud knights gone now (presumably to spread the news)

i. do i tell other people ? do i. im. okay im

i only talked to the cloud knight. and then im going to do what hoolay asked. thats it. im not brave or reckless enough to tell eVEryone

HIS VOICE IS TREMBLING for the 100th time i hate this

GUH

I FORGOT THEY HAVE OFFICIAL IDENTITIES PRETENDING TO BE--

oh fuck MY DUMBASS

his voice... AGHH JIAOQIUUU

GO FUCK YOURSELF YOURE NOT THE BOSS OF ME

i knew it. i fucking knew it. IM JUSTIFYING IT TO MYSELF BECAUSE CLOUD KNIGHT YOU BECOME IT KNOWING YOU COULD DIE OKAY. id rather have tried to escape then not at all and prove his racist belief 'right'. okay i know im probably in the wrong because they couldve lived if i didnt do anything and i had a hunch that they wouldve died if i asked for help. but. okay at my core i am selfish. and for all i knew there was a teeny tiny chance that it couldve succeeded

and listen. im quoting twisted wonderland now.

"Zero is zero no matter what you multiply it by, right? But if you take some form of action, that zero could potentially become 0.001. And 0.001 has a chance of becoming 100. In which case, there's no reason NOT to do it." (Book 6 - Chapter 48 • A Sequel Cut Short)

i hate these kinds of mind games.

hoolay fucking yapping and i know we're in a tough situation meant to demonstrate how jiaoqiu's kind of powerless but hoolays just talking about how jiaoqiu will eventually crumble and im just. yeah okay big talk. and like i get that hoolay does have connections still and ppl pretending to be foxians keeping a close eye on everything and genuinely wont hesitate to kill someone but okay i just hate him

god he sounds like one of those people who are like. when you refuse their advances and they go 'oh so youre playing hard to get huh?' and keep going with the belief that we definitely want them or some shit💀

i should pretend. but no i cant. thats not the kind of person i am.

oh shit. yeah okay remind me that maybe this could potentially lead to jiaoqiu dying in canon. i mean. its happened in npc stories before right? like that one person in penacony who we could choose to stop her from falling or let her fall

but fucking OW. hoolay talking doesnt terrify me. and maybe thats why im choosing all the dumb options. but ow.

does he have this pose if we pretend to show weakness? i mean maybe its cause we got hurt and hes exaggerating it and showing weakness then. or maybe it actually hurts like a bitch and he cant help but show reaction.

OMG MOZE

okay actually other idea of jiaoqius plan. contacting someone for help and deliberately being caught so its not suspicious if we go along with his demands too easily (but having another plan to get help thats more secret)

like okay i know it was my choice to try to get help and fucking it up but still canon-like right. although i doubt he'd be okay sacrificing an innocent life so um oops

AHHH FUCKING LITERAL CHILLS. we got jiaoqiu flashback where he was like a healer on the battlefield. i dont think im saying that right i forgot what theyre called. but like remember feixiao mentioning in 2.4 how jiaoqiu healed her, and later became her like main healer or something something i forget the wording

and then it goes black and we hear hoolays voice. i have a little hunch that it might be the thing to stop the lupitoxin's effects starting to fade, nad thus the toxin starting to affect him

hh his voice... :(

yeah okay so let us go

sorry did he just bite someone and they turned into a borisin or did it just get rid of the guys disguise

i wasnt paying attention to who it was. i know it wasnt mok tok (different appearance, also it showed jiaoqiu turning away to not see it and mok tok standing there while that was happening)

its genuinely so confusing trying to tell who is a foxian and whose a borisin cause disguises but i assume its an actual borisin who was disguised...

hes talking to moze but all i can hear is monke from ben's stream (aka moze's EN VA LMFAO)

OH IT WAS A NORMAL FOXIAN

what if he does it on jiaoqiu but then they figure out how to turn jiaoqiu back to normal and learn how to cure feixiao. right? right??? probably not but im so stressed

HOLY SHIT JIAOQIU. he sounds so.. wrung out. exhausted.

acting is fucking 10/10 he sounds kind of unhinged but in the slow still exhausted but with emphasis on some of the words?? like. like he still has fight in him. i dont know how to explain this but its really cool

oh shit does he die now

hooly fucking shit literal chills the text appearing on the black screen actually like communicating in a way to us and helping us get an idea of whats going on

okay major manga spoilers for demon slayer. but here is my next prediction: he has poison in his blood that will affect the borisins if they drink it, like how shinobu kocho had like a shit ton of wisteria in her blood (it was also under her fingernails and shit like that, she put it EVERYWHERE) so that when douma (who killed her sister) ate her he'd be poisoned and severely weakened

AM I RIGHT??

I. FUCKING. KNEW ITTTTTT

okay well it was pretty obvious because right before it mentioned the green peppers(?) thing and how to get a picky child to eat it, it re-mentioned that conversation. and then changed it how to get a wolf to something something i already forgot so it was obvious

but JIAOQIU LETS GOOOO i really hope you didnt die

no wait but shit

okay so i cant share any more images i hit the limit on tumblr but okay so if he consumed poison (ist tumbledust. i already forgor. was it like the thing thats like a sedative thats good in small quantities but lethal in large quantities? or was that like yabruh or something)

does that mean he'll die anyway or

i dont think jiaoqiu said it in front of hoolay but anyway im so unhappy that cutscenes lag for me (hoolay immediately clocks on that it was probably jiaoqiu who poisoned him but sdhfuf. this MEANS that hoolay drank JIAOQIUS BLOOD?!?!?!?!? is he DEAD??? )

also i HATE the hoolay fight im struggling so bad ahuisdhdisuad

YANQING LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO (boutta trigger hoolays jingliu trauma)

im sorry for accusing you of being a disguised borisin, sparkle traumatized me ok (and im sorry for pinching your cheeks in 2.4 being cautious of if you were a fake but also i didnt know that was what that option meant)

you were just acting really weird so i got stressed but LETS GOOOO

WHAT WE'RE FIGHTING HIM AGAIN????? YOURE FUCKING WITH ME

oh shit feixiao boss fight

heyy her character. trailer?? i think thats what it was called teased this. like cause she got drunk and couldnt recognize jing yuan and fought him (briefly)

YANQING FUCKING POPPED OFF THIS STORY

i (think) all thats left is feixiao boss fight that we saw in the livestream

some stuff. ill do wardance later. but im gonna end this post here. havent gotten to the end but i dont think ill have anything else to share and i dont have space here anyway so brr

OH FINALLY I CAN ACCESS DIFFICULTY MODES

AND YOU CAN CHOOSE THEM WHILE IN STORY OH THANK FUCK casual mode my precious

okay we figfhting preceptor oh

dan heng: the oath of the alliance doesnt matter to me because im not a part of the alliance anymore *attacks*

me using imbitior lunae dan heng in battle: uh. uh. uh. uhm. YEP

anyway jiaoqius alive (he almost died though)

he sounds so more subdued :(

HOLY SHIT HES BLIND? OH MY GOD thats both better and worse than i thought

OH MY GOD TINGYUN

i was so confused on ruan mei appearance but OH MY GOD

[comikadraws]

besides itachi what other naruto characters do you like?

do you dislike any ones?

Mmm. I like many characters, I'd say, but to varying degrees, and not always do they bring me as much joy in canon as they do in fanon.

I've been into Naruto since I was 12, and my interest in the series has gone up and down over time. Back then, I don't think I gave much of a shit about Itachi at all and instead, my favorite character was Obito. Oh, how the turns have tabled. I also liked Gaara a lot early on, but that period was fairly brief.

Currently, my biggest favorites are Itachi and Sasuke. I'd vote in Shisui as well, but unfortunately, I think many of my opinions are shaped primarily by fanfiction 😭 Which brings me to my next point...

It's a joke at this point, but sometimes the fanfiction - not even by altering a character's characterization but by diving deeper into their existing psychology and expanding upon its human aspects - does a better job at portraying a character, leading the fandom to develop a new commonly accepted lore which is referred to as "fanon". This is how I often end up enjoying characters like Madara, Izuna, and Tobirama as well even though their canon characterization might not speak to me personally (because nothing goes over a tsundere adopting children /hj). Fugaku is on the list as well-ish. He is the one that I got attached to IN SPITE of fanfiction telling me otherwise. My entire issue is that I am no longer certain whether the personality I have in my head for Fugaku is actually canon or just... made-up (he barely has any screen time, why is my interpretation of him so complex?).

There are also a lot of characters that I like a moderate amount. That list includes Kakashi, Tsunade, and Choji. And if we include Boruto characters, I do enjoy Sarada and Mitsuki as well. It simply just isn't enough for me to become very attached to or even just seek out fanfic that portrays them as more complex or more compelling characters. A good fanfic could probably change my perception of them but that's just where I am currently at.

As far as characters I hate go... I do dislike Jiraiya. His "quirks" don't translate well for me personally. That's a me-problem, though, and I understand and support anybody who likes him regardless. I also have beef with Hiruzen, though I have to admit it is mostly a show-vs-tell conflict in which the show pretends he isn't that bad when actually he is and I am not sure whether to prioritize the show or tell version.

Then there are characters I hate and that list includes Danzo and the two elders. Go to super-hell 😊

Regardless of any of this, I do not support harassing anybody over liking or disliking a character (though I don't mind venting). Like and dislike do not necessarily need a justification. They just are and why should we waste our energy on fictional characters of all things? Fandom activism? Too often are favorite ships and characters used to establish group dynamics of fans shitting on other fans.

It's a different story if said people are harassing other fans, publically insulting them, or making shit up. Still not worthy of harassment but definitely deserving of a call-out as, if not regulated, hatred just breeds more hatred and eventual transgressions. I am sure all of us had someone popping up on our blog before only to tell us how stupid we are (not even discussing but just immediately insulting us) for liking something.

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 17: Anyone

word count: 4.3k

ao3 | wattpad

Gwen

Contrary to my scheme several weeks ago, I severely wish I had had more time to find a costume for tonight. Three days just wasn’t enough time. Now I’m standing in front of a mirror, in a bodysuit two sizes too small, wishing I could cover up. If I was still hell-bent on making Joel uncomfortable, this outfit would have done it.

I originally thought my hair would be the statement, as my blonde waves had been styled to be the curliest they could manage. Which, apparently, was quite curly. Aria was beyond excited that I was working with Brissel, and she used probably half a tub of curl-defining cream. After Mateo added a red lip, they left for another booking. Now, I’m alone with what is essentially lingerie. Evelyn had sent me a judge costume to ensure I was completely covered, whereas Harper had sent over a fireman costume that consisted primarily of shiny red leather. I added tights underneath the bodysuit for some extra coverage, but if it weren’t for the miniature hat fastened atop my head, I could easily pass as some scantily-clad superhero. Especially with the added high-heeled, red leather boots. The outfit highlighted my curves so much that I considered being a judge for a moment. That is, before Harper texted me a picture of her dalmatian costume, telling me how excited she was that we were going to match. Damn her too-good-for-this-earth smile.

A few months ago, I would wear this without hesitation. I’d go with the intention tonight of getting as many likes as possible, impressing the brand with my engagement, having fun with my friends, and potentially taking another man home. And I despised, despised, the fact that now, for the first time, I’m actually nervous to walk out in front of Joel. I hike up the strapless front a little higher, and grimace when that only seems to draw attention to my chest even more.

Tonight’s about having fun, Gwen. When did you start to give a shit about what other people think?

I shake out my arms and wiggle my shoulders, shimmying away all the anxious energy on my way to the door.

Joel is waiting in the living room, just as I expected. I know he heard me coming, as the click-clacking of these shoes would guarantee, but he’s busy looking down at his phone.

I asked him earlier to wear the suit he wore to the wedding, minus the bowtie. I might have been imagining—or god forbid wishing—things, but I think there was a touch of excitement when I asked. And a small smile makes its way to my face now that he’s obliged me.

“I’m all set,” I announce, starting to make my way to the elevator.

This gets his attention, though only momentarily. Joel looks away as soon as he sees me, which quickly makes my face match my bodysuit. My heart hammers in my chest, noting how his free hand clenches into a fist.

“Alright,” He clears his throat, following behind me, eyes now on the floor.

“There’s just one more thing before we go…” I find the small package in the second hall closet, handing him the box with a smirk.

Joel rummages through the contents for a moment. “Are you giving me a uniform now?”

“It’s a costume. Badge, sunglasses, little pen that you can pretend has a flash in it. You can be one of the Men in Black.”

He pulls out the badge as if he’s dismantling a bomb.

“I’m assuming it will be a big fat no, but I toned it down just in case. This way no one will question your ever-present frown.”

Joel gives me a look, even as he fastens the badge to his lapel.

“You’ve assumed incorrectly.”

I ignore the giddy feeling moving up through my toes with a shrug. “There’s a first time for everything. Don’t forget the tie.”

Joel puts the sunglasses on next, and they sit a little too well on his smoothed hair. Secretly, I had hoped that he would style it just as he had at the wedding. The fact that he has makes it even more difficult not to stare as he puts the pen in his pocket and slings the tie around his neck. Watching his hands as he affixes it, so carefully and controlled, a thought shoots through my mind like lightning. His hands wrapping the fabric around my wrists, the sound it would make as it pulls it taut.

I drag myself over to press the elevator button, like putting space between us will somehow lessen the chances of him being a mind reader. I need to be out of telepathic earshot if that sort of thing is going to pop into my head.

After the trek to Brooklyn, made easier by Rod’s aversion to following traffic laws, we arrive at the event. Joel had told me there was no back entrance, as the club for the L'ensemble and Brissel event was quite small in comparison to some of Russell Corporation's events. There are only a handful of photographers outside, and it looks as though two of them were hired by the event organizers themselves. It offers me a little relief as I grab Joel’s offered hand, stepping out to the flashing lights. This part, I’m used to. Ironically, I was more covered in this sexed-up fireman costume than I was in my dress for the last gala. With Joel standing behind me to the left, it’s a little easier to pose as I normally would, fluffing my hair and pushing my hips to the side.

A couple of them call my name, asking for different angles. The side-eye Joel gives the one who asks for a back-shot doesn’t go unnoticed. I smile at them, giving a quick thanks, before heading inside with Joel’s hand hovering behind me as usual. Any composed, photo-ready smile turns cheesy and borderline goofy when I see a spotted pair of ears bouncing on over to me.

“You made it!” Harper squeals, wrapping me into a big hug. I find myself waiting until she lets go first.

“I missed you,” I say as quietly as I can. Her green eyes shine, squeezing my hand. I didn’t tell her about the flowers. I only said that there was a false alarm at the wedding and I’ve decided that having a bodyguard is a good idea, once and for all. I also may have embellished how much work is stressing me out. Not that it wasn’t, but having an excuse to my radio silence that wouldn’t involve scaring her was helpful.

“Hey Joel! Love the costume.” Harper smiles at him. He does his best to match her enthusiasm, and fails.

“Thank you, it’s uh, it was all her—Miss Russell.” His sunglasses sit just far enough down his nose that I can see him look over at me before looking away just as fast.

“This looks incredible!” I pivot, perking up as I take in the disco balls mixed with cobwebs and purple lighting.

“Thank you! I had zero part in it,” She beams. “Everyone else is already here. C’mon!” Harper drags me through the crowd of people, pointing out different setups along the walls of new products for people to try. “The marketing director is here, I think she’ll want to snap a few pictures of you with the products later. Especially with that hair of yours, because damn.”

“It was all Aria’s idea.”

“Was it her idea to go with my costume instead of Evelyn’s?”

I lean forward so that Joel won’t be able to hear, even though the music around is pounding. “Was it your idea to purposely size down this thing? I can hardly breathe.”

Harper radiates mischief, looking over her shoulder. “Of course not. It was Nyah’s.”

Speaking of the devil herself, she dressed the part. Complete with a sparkly black and red pitchfork.

“Give us a spin!” She points the styrofoam weapon at me, and I do as she commands even with an eyeroll.

“I hear I have you to blame for this,” I can’t help but smile at her satisfied expression.

“Well,” she bends down to my ear, “If I had known, I would have bought you a little alien number instead.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, eyes flicking up to Joel before she gives him a small wave.

“You’re never going to give that up, are you?”

“Not until you give in. You know you want to,” Nyah practically sings.

“Gwen, hi!” Elijah saves me from the possibility of answering that rhetorical question.

“Hey Elijah,” I bring him into a hug as Landon approaches behind us.

“A firefighter? Very hot,” Landon winks. Elijah and them are dressed as…

“Detectives?” I ask, looking back and forth between their old school caps and the pipe hanging out of Landon’s mouth.

“Sherlock and Watson,” Elijah’s ecstatic smile gives Harper’s a run for her money. My heart melts seeing how Landon smiles at him, and I can’t help but return it.

“We need some drinks!” Harper declares, loud enough for some people behind us to holler back in agreement.

Two tequila sodas later, I finish up my photo op with Brissel. Ada, the marketing director, is so down-to-earth that I forget that I’m being paid to promote them. We’ve made plans to get coffee before Nyah and the rest of the group are begging me to make our way to the second floor, where the real fun begins.

They must have fit two to three hundred people in the already cramped space. The floor lights up in different hues of purple, each square combining to form a kaleidoscope. The music was even louder up here than the floor below, and dozens of people crowd toward the DJ, mimicking his hand motions. Nyah pulls us into the middle of the dance floor, with Landon and Elijah quickly making the excuse that they needed more drinks. They take our orders, but I don’t expect to see them for some time. The way they keep looking at each other… they’re probably going to find some dark corner to “investigate.”

Joel lingers close to my side, standing as straight as an arrow, eyes hidden behind his glasses.

“So they’re already at the matching couple’s costume phase, huh?” I ask the girls before Harper can spin in too many circles for her to see or hear straight.

“Apparently. Who knew Landon would be such a lover?” Nyah muses.

“Are we still allowed to be commitment-phobes?” Harper asks, “If all of you start to get into relationships I’ll be pissed.”

“I don’t fall into that category, if you recall.” Nyah flips her hair over her shoulder, making Harper laugh.

“Okay, two long-term relationships make you exempt. Gwen?”

Again, that weird twinge of embarrassment whips through my chest. Why did I wish Joel was on the other side of the room right now?

“You know the answer to that.” I try to be as vague as possible, but Harper’s eyes widen with glee.

“Thank god,” She reaches for my hand, spinning me around. That, at least, makes me laugh before I stumble backwards, Joel’s arm reaching out to steady me.

It’s not a conscious decision—to look up at him. But everything in my body pulls my eyes upward, the way tourists do after taking their first steps outside of Grand Central. Except even now, I still haven’t tired of the view.

Of New York, I mean. Obviously.

Joel doesn’t pull his eyes away, but he arches a brow, the slightest ghost of a smile on his face. “You alright?”Why does New York’s accent have to come out so strong when he asks that?

I square my shoulders, which seems to give him some idea that I want his arm to leave my back, though that isn’t the case.

“You could move a little, you know. Unless you’re just getting into character.”

Joel adjusts his tie, “Yeah. Not really my kind of music. Or dancing, for that matter.”

“I can’t imagine there is a kind of dancing you do enjoy,” I challenge, leaning forward to close some of the space between us. I can feel both Nyah and Harper’s eyes burn into the side of my face, even though they keep moving to the beat. I’ll get shit for this later, I’m sure. They’ll call it flirting, and I’ll tell them they’re reading into it too much. I have just enough alcohol in my system to not read into it at all.

“Well, maybe you just haven—”

I feel a tap on my arm as Joel stiffens beside me. Turning to my right, I come face to face, more like face to chest, with another fireman. Tall, burly, and dirty blonde. At least from what I could see poking out from underneath his hat. His hat, suspenders, and thick ‘fireproof’ pants were the bigger indications of his costume, seeing as his chest was bare.

“If this place gets any hotter, you and I will be put to work.” He smiles, exposing teeth so white I wonder if they’re veneers.

I fight the urge to cringe. I do one, quick glance over to Harper and Nyah to confirm that they were, in fact, watching this interaction the way a cat watches a laser pointer. I have to entertain him, just a little. Otherwise there will be an onslaught of questions tomorrow.

“I hope not. You aren’t exactly suited up for it,” I point to his abs. His eyes twinkle with excitement, the way all men’s do when their pickup line is well received.

“Speak for yourself!” He shouts over the music, eyeing my costume down to the boots. “That outfit may burn the place down on its own.”

In an effort to avoid him looking even longer at my breasts, I change the conversation. “I’m Gwen,” I stick out my hand, forcing him to look me back in the eye.

“Gwen? I’m Aidan.”

Aidan keeps a hold of my hand, spinning me gently so that I’m mainly facing away from him. I’m sure he intends it to be intimate, but it only makes me acutely aware of how rigid Joel has gone next to me. His sunglasses are still in place, but I know he’s watching every breath of this interaction.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” Aidan says in my ear, as quietly as the music will allow. “I’ve been trying to come over here since you walked in.”

I twist my head to look up at him. “Thank you…”

In truth, he is very good looking. Exactly the type of distraction I would normally gravitate towards. So why am I unable to return the compliment? Why can’t I think of any sort of reply other than the basics?

“Do you live in Brooklyn?” Not my best, but at least it’s something.

Aidan starts to rock us back and forth, his hand dropping to my waist.

“I couldn’t help but overhear that this guy wouldn’t dance with you.” He ignores my question entirely. “Any guy in here would be crazy not to.”“Oh,” I let out an awkward, forced laugh, “Yeah, not everyone is up for it, I guess.”

“I am,” His hand grazes lower, down to the front of my thigh. The thin layer of my tights doesn’t feel like enough of a barrier. He pushes me against him by doing so, and I can feel the heat from his chest against my back.

All of this is normal. Swiveling my hips, hearing him hum in approval, lulling my head back to rest against him while we sway to the music.

This feeling, however, is not.

My heart is pumping almost double the speed it normally would after a few songs. The heat Aidan is giving off begins to feel stifling, and I feel a couple beads of sweat drip down my back. And there’s this weird twist in my stomach as the thought of the note flashes through my mind. It takes everything in my power not to look over at Joel who is both painfully close to us and still not close enough. I do catch Nyah’s smirk at one point, both of the girls then turning around to find their own dance partners. When they do so, it feels like the crowd around us pulls tighter inward. Like even if something were to happen right now, and Joel was close by, there would still be nowhere for us to go. Nowhere to run. And as I catch a whiff of Aidan’s cologne, I think once again of the note.

I can only wait and wonder if you smell just as sweet.

This couldn’t be him, could it?

The thought leaves me frozen, back arched against Aidan. It could be anyone. What are the odds that my stalker would be at this party? It was invite-only. Maybe he could have followed me, but getting in would be incredibly difficult. I should have asked him if he knew who I was to gauge his reaction, but that idea makes me feel nauseous. I’ve never wanted to be someone who assumed everyone knew who I was. Most of the time, I went by completely unbothered. This is probably just another guy, like any other night.

But…what if it’s not? What if it is him? What if he’s this close to my friends, and to Joel? What if I put everyone in danger just by showing up tonight?

The room feels darker, and I now feel encased by Aidan’s arm. He hasn’t even noticed I’ve stopped dancing, or if he has, he’s chosen to ignore it. The quick, rhythmic beat around us clashes with the unsteady, erratic pounding in my chest, and I start to shake my head, pulling away from Aidan. At first, he pulls back, maybe assuming it’s part of some move or something.

“I–um, I’m sorry,” I break away, facing him with an apologetic smile. His face is flushed, not even looking at mine. His eyes glaze over my body only, and I know he barely heard me. Just to my right, Joel still stands, straighter and stiffer than I’ve seen him before. Though since I’ve pulled away from Aidan, Joel has taken half a step in between us. I’m glad I can’t see what his eyes are focused on.

“C’mere,” Aidan says over the music, reaching for me again. My heart hasn’t stopped racing, and I lurch back, immediately embarrassed by my response. I can’t see any of my friends nearby as I turn to push through the crowd. When I feel a presence close behind me, panic shoots down my arms. Until the familiar scent of spice fills my senses, and I know it’s just Joel, doing his job.

I continue to push through the crowd until I see the doors to a balcony, and the promise of fresh air calls to me like a siren.

“Miss Russell,” I hear Joel’s gruff voice behind me, but I don’t turn around. “Miss Russell, slow down.”

I can’t. There isn’t enough air in here. And he’s with me anyway. Why should I slow down? I push past the last crowd of people with relative ease, almost stumbling against the railing, letting the chilly air hit my skin. I focus on the alleyway below, wondering how many breaths it will take to feel normal again.

“Miss Russell,” Joel repeats, placing only one hand on the railing to my left so he can face me instead. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing,” another deep breath, “I just needed a—moment.”

Even from the corner of my eye I can see his eyebrow crease forming. He surveys the balcony, probably trying to assess how many people can eavesdrop, before lowering his voice. “Did Aidan do something?”

I didn’t know he had been close enough to hear his name. That better be all he heard.

“What? No.” I roll my head to the side, stretching my neck. Despite all the dancing, I feel more tense than when we arrived. Thankfully, the music is quiet out here, and there’s only a handful of people mulling about.

I can feel Joel looking at me, the concern pouring in even though I refuse to engage with it. It takes several minutes for me to feel like I have enough control over myself to stop gripping the railing as tightly, and eventually I can look elsewhere besides the alley.

Even with what I can see in my periphery, I still jump, looking at Joel startled as he places his suit jacket over my shoulders.

“You’re shivering,” he says apologetically.

On some other night, several weeks ago, I would have objected before he’d even finished giving it to me. Now, I pull it tighter around myself, taking a long whiff of the comforting scent rolling off of it.

“Thank you.” I try to give him a small smile.

“What happened?” Joel asks softly.

I shake my head again. “I don’t know.”

I try to focus on the Manhattan lights in the distance, knowing that if I look at Joel as I ask this, I’ll feel far too weak. “Do you think it could be him?”

He doesn’t answer me right away, but I know he understands. He just continues to watch me, as if trying to determine if I can handle his opinion.

“It could be anyone,” his voice is gruff with honesty. “Which is a good, and bad, thing.”

“Right,” I sniffle, hoping it will stave off the thick lump forming in my throat.

“I do think it’s unlikely. He had a confidence that I wouldn’t anticipate from stalkers. Why send things to you if he has the balls to approach you in public?”

He still sounds just as honest, not that I would ever take Joel as someone who would sugarcoat anything. A virtue I very much appreciate.

“That’s a good point,” I sigh, my heart rate slowing further.

“Don’t sound too surprised.”

I finally turn towards him, his concern having sizzled, looking slightly relieved to have me make eye contact. And for the first time this evening, he doesn’t instantly look away.

“Contrary to popular belief, Miller, I do actually think you know how to do your job. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass.”

He tries to hide his smile by looking out at the view. “I’m the one forced to wear a costume, but I’m the pain in the ass?”

“I went easy on you! I could have made you a dalmatian with Harper.” I giggle, and he looks back at me with an unrestrained smile.

I’m not sure I’ve seen him smile like this before. He has a dimple, for christ’s sake. His entire face lights up, and it reminds me that there is a man in there that plays the guitar, and has nightmares, and always remembers to get me dinner when I forget to get it for myself.

I’m screwed.

“Are you married?”

What the fuck? Why did I ask that? I would blame the tequila, but most of my buzz has faded. Much like Joel’s smile, now that it’s been replaced with surprise.

“No.”

I want him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

Well, if he’s going to play coy.

“Do you have a significant other?” I try to phrase it correctly, remembering Nyah’s comment that he might not be into women. I suppose that’s still a possibility, but there’s a very irritating

amount of hope inside me that it isn’t true.

“No.”

I narrow my eyes. “Really? No relationship at all?”

“No.”

“That was a quick answer.”

“Relationships are complicated.”

“That was a non-committal answer.”

“What answer do you want?” He sounds exasperated now.

“The truth.”

Joel doesn’t reply right away. I realize that with each breath, we’ve been inching closer and closer to each other until we’re practically chest to chest. My breathing is back to being erratic, though for a completely different reason. For a second, Joel’s darkened eyes fall to my lips, and for a faster, almost undetectable moment, they fall to my chest. Unlike how I felt with Aidan, I didn’t want him to look away. The nearly pained expression on his face makes heat pool in my belly, before dropping lower…

Joel clears his throat, taking a step back. It’s a motion that wafts the cool air against my face, reminding me where I am.

“The truth is I can’t, really. It interferes with the job,” His voice is clipped, gaze focused on something off in the distance.

I doubt he’ll look at me again for the rest of the night.

“I see.”

This is his career, after all. Judging by his temperament alone, he wouldn’t do anything that could put that at risk. I shouldn’t push him too, either. The stress of recent events has to be the explanation of all of this. Joel may be a handsome guy, but I can handle handsome. I must just be in need of a distraction.

You left a perfectly good distraction on the dance floor, Gwen.

Maybe I had no explanation, then. Which means I also don’t have a good reason, so I need to let it go.

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Miller.”

Joel nods, still refusing to look me in the eye. I start to unfurl myself from his jacket, but he just motions for me to start walking.

“Keep it. We have a long trip back.”

I don’t bother arguing about how quick the walk outside to the car is, or how my seat will be heated. In part, because I’m tired, but also in part because I’d like to breathe in his scent a while longer. I pull the fabric tighter around me, clinging to the thought of his eyes and scent lingering, even as I make a mental promise to let these feelings go. Eventually.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

[lizhaoyu]

Okay you don't have to do this and if your inbox is closed that's okay but if they are open could you please do a cro where he just kidnapped them but they're oddly okay with it where they literally do whatever he wants but for exchange of letting them call their parents and tell them they're okay I know this may sound weird but do you mind bearing with me

Guess I'm yours now.

Here I am, back with another Cro fanfiction. Honestly, I didn't even think I'd get requests, let alone someone liking my stories. Thanks for the request, Anon, here it is. My deepest apologies if it took too long, I just don’t check Tumblr that much and I didn’t know I had requests. Really sorry.

As always, !!GN READER!!

Dark.

It was extremely dark.

The air was also suffocating. Probably because there's a bag over your head, but you disregarded that.

What the fuck happened? You were just walking home from buying random stuff that you probably don't need at the store and the next thing you know, everything went black.

"What the fuck?" You muttered.

"Oh, you're awake." A voice from a random corner of the room boomed.

"Um, where am I?" You asked.

"In my basement." The voice got closer, assuming that the person approached you.

"I figured." You sighed. You didn't know what you did, but you guess that it's something about buying random shit at the store that you don't need.

"Hm, you don't seem scared at all." The voice spoke, this time much closer.

You don't respond.

“Are you not scared of me? Not afraid of what might happen to you?” It asked again.

“Not really.” You shook your head.

The person hummed.

“Why are you not scared?” The voice asked.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“Hey, uh, I hope you don’t mind but can you take off the bag on my head? It’s getting really hard to breathe.” You awkwardly asked.

You heard footsteps approaching, before stopping in front of you. Suddenly, the bag was pulled off your head.

Your eyes took its time adjusting to the blinding light. Just then, you got a glimpse of your kidnapper’s face.

White hair and red eyes. He looks cool. Like a cosplayer.

“Your eyes look cool.” You quickly shut your mouth.

“Uh-, sorry. That just slipped out. I’m really sorry.” You quickly apologized.

The person chuckled.

"Why, thank you. I'd say you have pretty good looking eyes too." He smiled.

You remained quiet due to embarrassment.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, you spoke.

"So uh... Why'd you kidnap me...? Oh, but if you don't want to tell me, I completely understand. I understand that some people do this for a certain reason, and I don't want to invade your privacy." You smiled awkwardly.

"Haha, don't worry. I don't mind telling you." The person smiled.

Suddenly, he leaned down, inching down on your face.

"I kidnapped you because you seem appealing to me." He leaned away with a smile.

"I saw you outside the store. You were looking at the posters at the window." He recalled.

"Your eyes shined just by looking at the poster for a new product they're selling, like a kid who saw a new toy." He smiled.

"I followed you inside the store. I saw how delicate and gentle you were with handling the things in your basket." He looked at you.

"You'd put things inside your basket even if you knew you'd have no use for them, telling yourself you have the money anyway and will probably have a use for them someday." He chuckled.

'Ah... Now this is really embarrassing...' Your cheeks grew red.

"And I knew right away that I have to take you and have you all to myself. I mean, people nowadays take advantage of people like you, and I knew I had to keep you safe." He smiled softly.

"Thank you for thinking so kindly of me." Your cheeks dusted with pink.

"Even if we're in this type of situation, I know you're a kind person." You smiled.

"Hm? How are you so sure?" He asked, face now serious.

"A-Ah... Well, um... You talk to me normally, and you're kind enough to take the bag off my head when I asked you to." You nervously say.

"I kidnapped you. I took you with me to a place you probably don't know. For all you know, I could be plotting to hurt you after gaining your trust. How are you so sure that I'm a kind person?" He asked again.

You shifted uncomfortably, refusing to answer anymore in fear that he might actually hurt you.

"Haha, just kidding." He chuckled and smiled.

"I told you that you looked appealing to me. How could I hurt you?" He sat down at the ground with you and cups your face into his gloved hand.

"Say, how about you stay with me here from now on? I'll be yours and you'll be mine. How about it?" He asked.

"I... have a request." You spoke quietly.

"Go on, I'm listening." He retracts his hands back.

"Even if you're keeping me with you... Can I still contact my parents and family? I want to be able to update them and talk to them." You asked.

"How sweet. Of course. Just as long as you stay." He nods.

"Thank you." You smiled.

"Now that we've come to an agreement..." He inched closer.

He cupped your face into his hands again, face closing in.

"May I?" He asked, looking directly in your eyes.

You nod slowly.

He smiled.

And with a kiss, your fate has been sealed.

[astro-can]

pfft what are you talking about I don't overthink that much

also me whenever I meet a new person at my new school:

person: hey what's up?

me: oh hey, I'm good. fuck I should have said hi not hey because now it seems like i'm copying them. how about you?

person: oh, I'm pretty good. what's your name?

me: oh i'm *name*, wbu?

person: my name is *idk*! so, what are some of your hobbies?

me: hobbies? HOBBIES? oh I have plenty of hobbies I like reading but if I say that then they're going to ask what kind of books I read and then i'll have to tell them I read whatever's trending because I can't tell them I read manga bc I would seem like a weeb and then they would think I'm one of those booktok girls who like dark romance when in reality i'm still stuck in my 12-year-old Percy Jackson and demonslayer phase, if I tell them that I like drawing then theres like a 80% chance that they're going to ask to see my drawings which I can't show them because I only draw my silly little ocs and anime characters and cartoons and that's embarrassing to show to other people, I can't say I like writing because they might ask what kind of things I write about and I can't say "oh I write fanfiction" because that's stupid and if they really want to know what kind of stuff I like to write about, then I would tell them the entire plot of the 3294673964932 stories I'm writing but then I might scare them off--

me: oh haha I like reading...and drawing.... FUCK WHY DID I SAY THAT AHHHHHHHH

person: oh cool! what kind of books do you read?

me: ummm just whatever's trending FUCK IM SO BAD AT THIS

person: cool, do you like music?

me: yeah totally!

person: what kind of music do you listen to? maybe rec me some artists?

me: WHAT DO I SAY I can't say that I like kpop because they're going to think i'm weird and a koreaboo even though i'm actually Korean but would they know that its kpop if I recommended a kpop artist? would they know txt? what if they search txt up in front of me right now and then they say "oh is this bts?" what do I do? if I say I like conon gray or taylor swift, i'll seem too basic. will they think i'm gay if I say chapell roan? well, I AM gay but that's not something I want to tell someone when i've first met them, especially since I don't know if they're an ally or not. ok, so what if I say mitski? would they think i'm depressed? would they ask if i'm ok? would I seem like a basic white teenager? I should just say mitski and lyn lapid those are my best choices--

me: oh I like mitski...chapell roan... FUCK I WAS SUPPOSED TO SAY LYN NOT CHAPELL IM GOING TO GO DIG MYSELF A HOLE what about you?

person: oh really? I like *music artist that I probably haven't listened to the music to before, probably someone like the weeknd or some rapper*

me: oh yeah I love the Weeknd too I have never listened to the Weeknd before i'm going to kms

person: anyways nice talking to you

me: was it really? was it really nice? am I nice? was I pleasant enough? did I stutter? did I fidget too much? oh shit, should I fix my hair? would they think I'm flirting with them if I tuck my hair behind my ear? oh gosh they're going back to their friends what if they're trash talking me what if they hate me and i've already ruined my reputation even though i've barely been here a month. i should've complimented them! I should've told them that I loved their hair or something....

yup that's basically my entire thought process. there's more but I can't write it all out because i'm not actually in a situation like that rn but that's the gist of it. help

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Investment plans

@cullen-blue23 🧟💌⚔️ I have returned with my Wen Ning appreciation agenda! I keep imagining WWX discovering the Ghost General simps and immediately deciding to throw hands to defend his besties honour. WN is confused, but very flattered (and no longer feels safe being left alone with Lan Jingyi)

Some kind of part 2 to this one

This was an incredibly funny piece to write, shoutout to Lan Jingyi for seeing a business opportunity and running with it.

Wei Wuxian rushes through the Cloud Recesses, Suibian in hand, unsheathed - and that never happens unless there is a great emergency somewhere that he knows he can't fix with just Chenqing. There are very few such instances - one was when Lan Sizhui got kidnapped, and another was when some poor sod put a curse on Lan Wangji, and to this day nobody knows or dares ask what happened to either of those people. So to see the Yiling Patriarch (who's usually just fun and mischievous Wei-qianbei) exude murderous intent, everyone makes way for him to storm out of the Cloud Recesses without issue. Not that they're scared he'd kill them - but it's better to be safe than sorry.

Lan Wangji struggles to catch up to him, and that's saying something. "Wei Ying!"

"Leave me alone, I'm going to kill this Yan Bai person myself! How dare he!"

"Wei Ying!" Lan Wangji tries again, finally reaching close enough to his husband to get a hold of his shoulder.

"What?! You've seen those ridiculous drawings and read those horrible stories too! Aren't you supposed to be righteous?!"

Lan Wangji is not going to take offense to that and he's not going to fight with Wei Ying in the middle of the Cloud Recesses where everybody can see. In fact, there won't be any fight at all.

"You can't kill Yan Bai."

"Like hell I can't, I've killed hundreds, what's one more!"

"We'll circle to that later, but the reason you can't kill him it's because he doesn't exist!"

Wei Ying blinks at his husband incredulously. "Lan Zhan, do you take me for a fool? What do you mean he doesn't exist? Then who created that ludicrous sexy Ghost General calendar? The fanfiction subscription service? The fan letters?!"

Lan Wangji sighs like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. "Come with me, I'll tell you in private. And please put Suibian away."

---

Inside the jingshi, Wen Ning and Jingyi await. Now, Wei Ying is even more confused than before, joining Lan Wangji at the table. He takes a seat, and says, "Wei Ying, please meet Yan Bai." as he elegantly gestures towards Jingyi, who looks very much like Wen Ning down - a living corpse.

There is such tense silence in the jingshi that it feels suffocating. Jingyi has long accepted he's going to die today, he's said his goodbyes and even sent a last letter roasting Jin Ling express shipping to Jinlintai. All his affairs are in order, might as well get it over with.

"How much money did you make?" Wei Ying asks, his voice flat and neutral, and somehow scarier than when he's angry.

"I... Double my allowance, sir."

"Per month?"

"Per week... sir."

Wei Ying whistles lowly. "What did you spend it on?"

Lan Jingyi keeps quiet, eyes stubbornly squeezed closed.

"Well?"

"I cannot say."

"Why not?"

"It is forbidden."

Wei Ying rolls his eyes. "So is drawing porn, yet here you are."

"It's not - porn... it's-"

"Erotic art, whatever, same thing. I would know. So, where's the dough?"

"..."

"Lan Jingyi."

"We're saving up for something! It's - well, a surprise..."

"And you've decided to exploit Wen Ning for it?"

"It's not... exploiting. It's a... business. I overheard some people talking about him in a certain way and had an idea..."

The new information is nothing short of surprising, so Wei Ying turns to his friend. "Wen Ning, did you know about this?"

"...somewhat. Not to its full extent, but I agreed to the- stories."

"So then what's the big project that had you sell yourself out like this?"

"Please don't say that... I didn't... do that."

Wei Ying crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know, Wen Ning, I received a letter from Yunmeng-"

If Wen Ning could blush, he'd be beet red. "I didn't do anything for cash, I mean... all that you've heard about, I've done it... um, for fun..."

Wei Ying sighs so deeply he feels like he's taken up the whole air in the jingshi. This conversation is terribly embarrassing and he still wants to know what the hell they're saving up for.

"Here's how it's gonna go. Jingyi, you tell me what you've been investing in all this time, and I'll convince Hanguang-Jun over here not to punish you for the next 15 years."

Jingyi steals a look towards Wen Ning, and they seem to be having a silent conversation before Jingyi finally looks up at his seniors.

"We've been - the lotus pond we've been nursing in the Cloud Recesses died last spring, and we know how sad that made you. So we bought a piece of a lake near Caiyi and have hired someone specialized in lotus cultivation to help maintain them and make sure they don't die out like last time." A pitiful sigh, "But they're really expensive, even with all the help we got from Jinlintai... Jin Ling can't just give money out right now, so we had to... be creative. We actually got the idea at the last discussion conference, sect leader Nie dropped something about Yiling Laozu fanfiction selling really well in the past and, well..."

Wei Ying can do nothing but stare. Everyone - the kids, Wen Ning, even Nie Huaisang - all contributed to this one project that's more time-consuming than anything and that takes up a whole lot of money... and all that because he cried over the lotuses that dried up last spring instead of blooming. All that because they wanted him to be... happy.

He stands up from his seat abruptly, and Jingyi squeezes his eyes shut again, awaiting deliverance - instead he finds himself and Wen Ning pulled into a hug.

"Thank you."

Jingyi's eyes widen. "You're... not mad?"

"I am very mad. I married into this super rich sect for you lot to go sell porn for money?!"

"Wei-gongzi, it's not-"

"Quiet, Wen Ning! You should've just asked Lan Zhan for cash!"

"With all due respect, Hanguang-Jun is not adept at keeping secrets from you..."

"...fair. Still, all this was... a bit too much. Even if I appreciate it, it's not okay to do. So, there will be some kind of punishment for you, Jingyi."

"I know..." and he begins reciting, "...for lying, keeping secrets, making illicit money, drawing and reading pornographic material, distributing said material, pricing highly, not reporting earnings..."

"That's a long list of crimes to atone for. I'll leave Hanguang-Jun to do that. Wen Ning, come talk to me outside?"

"Yes."

---

"How do you feel... about all that?" Wei Ying asks as they stroll along the pathways around the jingshi. "The... materials, I mean."

"To be entirely honest... I am not that upset... You know I have not been very confident before... and this, surprisingly, helps a lot."

"Don't you feel... I don't know, objectified?"

A shrug. "Not really. Sure, it's a bit... weird to see so much... erotic material about me, but it's better than people calling for my death..."

Wei Ying sends him a sympathetic look. He wishes people could see him like that, kind and loving and soft, the way he truly is - nothing like the monster people accuse him to be.

"And anyway... I'm not entirely innocent either... so I'm not surprised there is, um, demand for such things."

"Right... uh, you should probably be a bit more on the down low with that in Yunmeng... I know people from there are really attractive but...like, I'm not trying to police what you do or anything-"

"It is fine, I understand what you mean." A conspirational smile. "I was planning to visit Qinghe next anyway, so you probably will not be receiving any more angry letters, hopefully... Though I must admit Hanguang-Jun's response was... quite hilarious."

Wei Ying chuckled. "He got the 'no bitches?' thing from Jingyi, which is why I think he won't punish the kid that harshly... but how do you feel about what he's done?"

"Well. It is... a bit excessive... but... I cannot say the idea is bad... I did get some of the proceedings myself after all..."

"Man, you guys have a whole business going on! Next thing you'll tell me is Sizhui's keeping the books or something."

"..."

"Wen Ning."

"..."

"WEN NING!"

[ephhemeralite]

Since you came to ask for my process, I'd like to come over here and ask about yours!! I see you also do drafts, and I'd love to hear how that looks for you 👀

There is no pressure to go as in depth as I did for mine though!!! And there is no rush <333

I hope your writing is going well!!!

hello!! i have written, honestly, so much in response to this. thank you very, very much for asking, because i love to talk about writing!! maybe more than i enjoy writing, even. lord.

one caveat about me and prose: my thing is very, very definitely poetry. i write poetry about every other day and i have done for years. i adore fanfiction -- to write it, to talk about it, to brainstorm about it, to help edit my friends'. i love how collaborative it is, i love its unique sets of tropes, i love when people talk to me about my fics and their own. i LOVE fic. i do not adore writing it the same way. sometimes, i think of it as a means to an end (having a fic i would like to read and am proud to have written). the way that i go about writing fics reflects this, i think.

my process is pretty shaky and i can be bad about sticking to it (i try to 'trick' my brain out of needing the things it needs to complete longform writing. like a FOOL). the general shape of my process is: an inciting idea (a song lyric, a poem, another fic, a tumblr post, "wouldn't it be cool if [blank] happened in a fic?") -> an actual concept (what would actually have to go on in a fic to make [blank] plausible) -> first draft (me telling the story to myself, ugly) -> second draft (rewrite with a lot of influence from the first draft but, like, good to look at). all throughout this process, i tend to take the time to line edit when my brain gets too overwhelmed with the actual writing, since i find editing to be leagues easier. it's a good way to take a break while still working on the fic, but it is deeply inefficient from every other angle. but, hey, the first rule of fic is to have fun and be yourself.

i'm going to go into detail under the cut bc no one's dash deserves what i've done to this ask.

warning (?) for the fact that the fic i'm currently writing is hockey rpf.

i usually start out with rambling to my friends, too! when my hrpf first possessed me, i sent about 15 messages to my friend cara (who doesn't give a shit about hockey or hrpf) that outlined the (hrpf-specific) trope i liked, what fic inspired me (x), and the goal of my own fic. an abbreviated snippet of that:

it could be interesting to play with the two ways the trope manifests (violent/aggressive and protective) (needing to be taken care of/reassured by teammates) via having them both nest. it has the potential to be so tender . . . i have this mental image of ullmark, who is spacy (clue that he's due for nesting on his own) at practice doing drills or smth when he hears swayman yell/yelp/smth (depends on what sets him into nesting, hurt/confronted/whatever) and goes to check on him only to be met with a fully nesting goalie. while trying to calm him down, he ends up nesting, too.

i imagined this as a oneshot with an extended version of this scene and, perhaps, another. i knew what vibe i was shooting for and what content might pair with it. i skipped the concept step, because i am a fool and i hoped it might be short enough to get through writing it with momentum. i did not do that. more on this later.

what an idea turning into a concept should look like:

i want to write a version of the batfamily/white collar crossover that deals with all related topics the way that //i// think they should be handled

into

a two-chaptered fic, heavy on parallels, split between peter and dick's povs. lots of unreliable narration where the parallels draw attention to how unreliable everything is. both chapters should include the same or similar scenes with the characters' first impressions of each other, moments when they clash (insert scene ideas where dick loses agency, peter invades his privacy, a major plotpoint from the show, etc), how that results in a rise in tension, and when that tension breaks in the climax (burning building?? dick fakes his death???), and closing scenes. dick's pov is going to include a lot more family stuff, focus on the issues of the fic, etc, while peter's pov obscures the issues and completely misses the presence of dick's family.

this is only a recreation of what my 'acquainted with the saint of never getting it right' fic's concept would have looked like, since i've lost all of this since i drafted it two years ago, but the thought stands. it's really sparse -- less than your zero draft, even, but the next step in my process is more than a zero draft, so i'd say they hold the same place in my process. i might include references to ideas i have for scenes if i have them, but they're usually few-word clues like "sketchbook" or "peter in apartment for coffee."

since i like to swim without a paddle, my next step is draft one. my goal is to get it down; if the details feel good and come easy, i will include them, but i don't let them trip me up. it's easier to add shit into the next draft than it is for this one to go uncompleted, basically. some word choices from this draft might remain in the final piece, but rarely does sentence structure or much else.

Sway is growling from deep in his chest, projecting the sound out across the ice. The rest of the team is inching away from Sway’s crease and towards Linus, which upsets something in the back of his mind — Sway should have the team around if he's upset. Clearly, with the growling, he doesn't want them close, but that doesn't mean that they should leave him, either. Once he settles down, he's going to want them. Linus knows, he'd had his fair share of triggered nesting episodes when he was younger. Unless there was something specific that’d set him off — then things would be different, according to what he needed — but Linus doubts that. It was mostly likely that this was just a simple rough start and Sway could get into proper nesting the moment he settled down and relaxed in the net. He could show Sway that easily, Linus thinks. His drifting forward comes to a gentle stop near the front of the pack of teammates and coaching staff carefully not crowding Swayman. He registers, in a distant way, that what's happening right now is going to cause a heaping helping of issues for somebody, but he's also not worried about it. At all.  What he's worried about is how Sway needs to feel safe right now and how he doesn't. Linus knows that he's never felt safer than while nesting for this team and that he could give Sway that, if he tried. He just has to get Sway to a nest. All he needs to do is tell Sway that and Sway will surely listen. He lets out a loud chirp, cutting off whatever the head and goalie coaches were trying to say to Swayman. Usually, he'd feel pretty guilty about interrupting, but it's alright. He's going to fix the issue; they'll understand. Sway moves from eyeing up the coaches to staring straight at him so fast that Linus worries about him pulling something; all of the more reason to get him safe and tucked away, somewhere where they can both relax. The growl dies abruptly in his throat, which makes Linus want to preen. Clearly he knows his teammates best. Linus chirps again, eager to get this moving along. Eyes locked onto him, Sway chirps back.

this is a pretty long excerpt, sorry, but a lot happens between the first and second draft and this has plenty left unworked.

the first paragraph is alright -- some imagery i like (the growling and the team's movement), linus' thought process toes the line between coherent and incoherent the way i'd like it to (might lift that, wholesale, to the second draft), although the phrasing "which upsets something in the back of his mind" is... eugh.

the second, third, and fourth paragraphs' main use is to outline where linus' mindset is going, although it's clunky and off-target. i just need the reminder to write his mindset in and its vague shape, for this draft, though. if i kept any of this, the phrasing/sentence structure would need to be changed, but it's more likely that i'd scatter it through the movement and description i'd add into the second draft. my first drafts tend to be either all-internal or all-external, so my second drafts act as the equalizer.

beyond that, my second drafts also make everything... longer. so much longer. it helps me move everything from a barebones "this is what probably happens" to "this is what experts call a nice reading experience," you know? plus, i can move forward with draft one with questions still unanswered, like: i haven't actually decided how i want the narration to refer to these characters, yet. the first name vs last name vs nickname and WHEN debate is an important one, but if i got hung up on that first, i'd never actually write the damn fic itself. instead, we can get it moving.

the difference between a first and second draft might look like this for me:

Nile is in the desert.  Her boots are stiff with sand, her hands grasping her rifle, her body weary under her gear. She's marching. On the back of her tongue, she tastes blood. There's not another person around for miles. No squadmates, no commander. No civilians, no insurgents. The sun beats down on her from its place at perfect zenith. Nile stumbles to a stop, heaving for the heat. She casts about for her water, but it's not where it should be or anywhere it shouldn't be, either.

vs

Nile is never going to get out of the desert. That’s most of what she knows. There are other things, like: her boots are stiff with sand, her hands are grasping a rifle, her body is weary under her gear. She’s marching. On the back of her tongue, she tastes blood. She’s alone. From horizon to horizon, the terrain is empty of everything but herself. Her squadmates are missing, her commander absent. There are no civilians, no insurgents.  The sun beats down on her from its place at perfect zenith, millions of miles away. She stumbles to a stop, heaving for the heat. She wishes, desperate beyond words, for water, but her bottle is missing. It’s not hooked onto her vest or around her hips; she’s never spent a moment more aware of each of the trillion grains of sand that surround her, dry as dust, as in this moment.

(this fic, even the sun knows where you sleep, has been languishing as a half-finished second draft since may of last year. it's a crossover between the old guard and the sandman, where nile has a series of dreams influenced by morpheus. this is one of them) the first draft of this fic is about 5k, but the finished second draft could end up around 15k. long as hell, by my poet standards.

this second draft is lacking line edits, but bloop (my beloved sister, muah, ily, etc) helped me comb through it months ago so the proposed changes are available. the phrasing is prettier, the structure less repetitive, the imagery and setting clearer. the parts of this that are written are just a stone's throw away from being of posting quality. unfortunately, i'm also of the camp no-posting-before-completed, so it won't be.

i have a gomens fic sitting unfinished on my account because i lost steam and interest before i finished the second draft of its last chapter, which is just... so unfortunate. i'd love to finish it, and eventually i might, but i've acquired a bit of distaste for gomens in the meantime and (in the spirit of being myself and having fun) i'm not beating myself up about it. but, like, lesson learned.

back to the point: sometimes, the second draft can change more of a fic (warning for non-graphic violence):

Nile is standing at the window at the top of Merrick's skyscraper, Andy's labrys in hand.  The window is shattered again, though there's no other proof of their battle that Nile can sense. Andy is nowhere to be seen, nor is Merrick. Nile doesn't look down through the window, but she knows there's no crushed car or mutilated body, either. There is Nile, standing at the shattered edge, weathering the sharp breeze snapping against her. There is the ax in her hand, the wooden handle rough. Grainy. It hasn't been smoothed by use or through craftsmanship and Nile can feel splinters bite into her grip.  The wood is hot, she realizes suddenly – not skin-warm, but the type of hot that comes from holding something porous as it burns and vents heat through places yet untouched by the flame. In panic, she raises her head to find the source and is blinded, completely. The shock of it is such that she stops moving entirely and blinks, uncomprehending – the sun.

vs

Nile is standing in the moment before the fall. The precipice.  She’s at the top of Merrick’s tower again. Behind her lies a cold and empty room, made more of shadow than substance. She knows that she is supposed to continue through – see the moment to its end – but she has been given the opportunity to pause, as time comes to a standstill. Some things have changed; Andy and Merrick are missing. The evidence of their fighting is gone, except that the window is already shattered. A cold wind rushes through the absence, knocking sharp teeth against her body, frozen in its lunge forward toward empty space. In her fist is the labrys that should be cutting into the meat of Merrick’s shoulder. Nile can feel the tackiness of blood in her grip on the wooden handle. She wonders at the grainy texture caught beneath it, surprised that time nor craftsmanship hasn’t smoothed it over, before she understands that this is not Andy’s handle. Instead, the roughly-hewn lumber extends from the floor to a place over her head to become a sort of halberd, its point on the floor supporting most of her weight.  It's hot, too – not skin-warmth, but the type of heat that comes from holding a porous item as it’s being consumed by fire, venting heat out through places yet untouched by flame. Nile isn’t injured by the blister of it, but the sensation of burning without pain unnerves her and she raises her gaze to find the blade and the flame. Only, she doesn’t make it that far. Lifting her face out of her hunched position brings it to look toward the window, where she discovers the opposite of Merrick’s abyssal building as it inundates her: an immense deluge of light.

there's a lot more definitive changes to structure, phrasing, and imagery here than in my last snippet. i do, in a literal sense, go through and rewrite each word of my fic between drafts, but how many of those words are carried over from the first to the second can vary depending on the quality of the draft. it's way easier for me to rework a pre-existing piece than make something, wholesale, which i'm well aware of and try to cater to. this is the method that's seen my writing improve the most, even though i think it's wildly impractical and unwieldy. i've even done it with this exact post, which part of why it's taking me so long to finish it!

i'm trying something new with the process on the hrpf, since it's been giving me so much trouble. the theme's changed a bit, with a wider scope and something specific to say, but i also want to incorporate a social media/journalism/outsider's perspective element, which will let me move around outside of the characters' narrations while establishing the wider world of the au. this new step is as close to a zero-draft as i've gotten, even though it's still way less detailed. it looks like this:

MOST VIOLENT VS MOST AMIABLE GOALIES TO NEST IN THE NHL listicle Sway and Linus discuss nesting, Linus has settled into a pattern Could gentle-nester ullmark be a calming influence over swayman or will he dull his edge? speculative piece, focus more on the first option maybe to contrast the move towards understanding anger. Bruins vs buffalo, ullmark in net (dec. 7 game? If the timeline for that works), linus is upset at the loss/it goes bad somehow. Sway is supportive in a more assertive way than typical. It doesn’t start here but it turns here Can’t decide if tweets or something would be good here Internal, staff-only memo advising to keep sway away from linus when he’s feeling broody.

each line represents a separate 'chunk' of the fic. with the added elements, i need to know what will go where so that i can make sure the storytelling tracks throughout. i'm still on this part of the draft, but i'm having a good time with it again which is what i think is most important.

anyway, thank you for asking!! i definitely love to talk about writing! i'm always sooo down to chat, too, except for maybe right now because i am going to pass out asleep i think. <3!!!!!!

[nym-wibbly]

AI, Oh My

I've been using the generative-AI-free Ellipsus for failing at writing for the past few days. Using it to keeping track of notes about the long fanfics I've been sampling to help me write feedback, too. So far I love it to pieces. I love the clean interface. I love that it's in my browser like Google Docs but isn't Google Docs. It's really nice to create text away from that constant push to incorporate generative-AI into the process somehow. Or to click the annoying, distracting thing that sits in the corner of my vision that wants me to pay for an upgrade to some AI feature I didn't want in the first place, and wouldn't save me time or effort if I did. (Grammarly. Just fucking stop and tell me when I use a comma wrong or double a word, okay?)

I did play with AI writing tools while I was ill last year, mainly to pass the time and get up to date with what all the fuss and controversy was about. I squirted a simple 2000-word fanfic I wrote in the 1990s into each one and played to see what the various tools could do with it. Then I tried to get them to generate a similar piece from scratch using prompts. The whole unethical, 'this model was trained on everything we ever put on AO3, wasn't it?' aspect quickly became glaringly apparent once I introduced the subject of fanfiction - or even just asked a factual question about a character from a TV show. (ChatGPT totally 'ships the Thirteenth Doctor with Yaz, a 'ship which must've been at its peak AO3 output when all that data was hoovered up.)

Sudowrite came the closest to being able to do what I need from an automated writing assistant, which is to help me keep track of a long piece by creating and updating a beat sheet and character profiles as I go, or to generate an accurate set of chapter summaries from a giant dollop of existing text. None of these tools can handle a million word epic without going into a death-spiral of confusion and spouting nonsense. None of them can, yet, follow a lengthy or detailed plot well enough to help me re-remember things when I need to. ChatGPT could manage quite large chunks of text for a while in early 2023, then it went downhill fast, started limiting input hard, and started making shit up instead of summarising what text I fed it. I swear to god that thing got incrementally less useful as it got upgraded and as features were added. Nothing else I've tried even felt remotely useful to a writer of fiction, but getting to know the various options did train me to spot and avoid AI-generated articles at two hundred paces, even just from the title or headline much of the time, which has to be a good thing.

I don't want writing done for me, not ever, but if tech can someday help with the remembering-plot-things and keeping-character-things-organised, that would be spiffing. If I could someday rely on it to go, "Whoa, girl, you just contradicted line 23 of chapter 19 with [insert offending text and line number here], at a level of detail that it'd be unreaonable to expect a beta reader to spot in a spread-out WIP, I'd actually pay a lot of money. I want help managing what I write and coping with my cognitive disabilities so I can keep writing stories that are too big for my brain to hold in one dollop. We ain't there yet, but maybe, one day? If we can ever get past the ethics of training the models on other people's data in the first place, and the environmental impact of using these tools at all?

Sudowrite is nowhere near being able to do this for a long story, yet. And the free version is plenty if I just want a quck summary of the story's vibe, tropes, or themes for reference. That I do find useful for clarity, because condensing ideas and summarising fiction is not something I'm good at doing myself. I think Sudowrite might, eventually, be able to help me understand how I write.

So far, so underwhelmed.

[thegreatwicked]

After the Storm: Part Two

After the Storm

Summary: An emergency crash landing on an isolated island on an alien planet leaves Hux, and a rebel spy stranded and trying to reach an emergency beacon before the local flora and fauna kill them. Hux/OFC.  

Is it really fanfiction without a sex pollen story? No! Of course not! You’re not here for intense character development or an intricate plot! This is a slightly unconventional sex pollen story so enjoy because we all know you’re here for smut and I will supply so here it is! Don’t ask me what Hux and a rebel spy are doing on a shuttle, I don’t know and I don’t care I’m just here for smut. He just is. If Disney doesn’t have to justify their shitty fanfiction then neither do I. If you’ve ever seen Six Days Seven Nights that’s what I’m loosely basing this off of. This is a fun little sexy story that exists in the world of the story I am currently writing that explains my OC, Sola Vex a little better. If you’d like to read it, it's called Armitage and it’ll be on my profile and my Tumblr, keep an eye out for it as I will be posting it very soon, it’s a long one!

Part Two

Hux woke up to find Sola already up and moving, a rare occurrence considering her non-morning person nature. She was in the midst of getting dressed pulling on her boots. He hurried to catch up, his stomach too twisted to bother with breakfast, his mind consumed with how he was going to explain himself. As he finally found the courage to ask Sola about her sleep, her response—using the dreaded word "fine"—revealed that all was not well. He inwardly groaned, knowing that the chasm between them had only deepened. However, before he could even broach the subject of the previous day, Sola already had her mask on and had shut down any attempt at conversation.

Hux was determined though, that maybe a conversation while they hiked might prove more productive. His gait returned to its usual rhythm, but Sola's pace remained swift and purposeful, surpassing him with little regard. He called out her name multiple times, but her responses were limited to grunts or curt replies, mirroring the distance Hux had established the previous day. The day wore on and his attempts to bring a resolution to their situation saw little acknowledgment, and by mid-afternoon Hux reached his breaking point. He refused to be a man who chased after a woman to an absurd degree, even if he was in the wrong. Even if he wanted to chase her.

Enough. This was enough. He swiftly closed the distance, his hand clapped her shoulder and gave it a decisive twist to make her face him. A surge of irritation coursed through him, he was poised to resolve this standoff immediately. The commanding sound of his voice cut through the jungle, full of urgency and frustration. He was done with this little temper tantrum she was throwing.

"Stop!" 

This silent stalemate could no longer persist; he was determined to confront the truth and mend what he had damaged. The air around Hux and Sola crackled with tension as his voice reverberated through the dense foliage with the confidence of a man who had commanded many. He didn’t command Sola though, he just needed her to hear him. The vibrant greens of the jungle seem to fade into the background, their colors washed out and overshadowed by the intensity of the emotions on display.

She was only caught off guard by his outburst for a second before she responded with a sharp, "What?" 

"We need to talk, and it can't wait any longer."

His voice grew softer but still held an authoritative edge, he didn’t want to yell, didn’t want to sound like he was ordering her around.

"Well, that's unfortunate. I'm not exactly in the mood for conversation." She threw off his hand and turned away eager to return the distance between them. Oh, no she didn’t. Hux reached out once more, his grasp gentle yet unshakable, halting her departure.

“I'm not asking you if we can speak, I'm telling you we will!"

Sola faced with her hands on her hips, a challenge threatening to immolate him burning in her angry gaze. "Is that so, General?" Her emphasis on his former rank was bitter and meant to twist him like a knife in a wound. "What could you possibly have to say now that’s so damned important?” 

Trapped in a maelstrom of guilt and frustration, Hux couldn't ignore the profound anguish he'd inflicted on Sola, he had to face the storm. Their conversation, inflamed by wounded emotions and hurt pride, rapidly devolved into a tumultuous shouting match. Each of his attempts to clarify his actions, to convey the reasoning behind his behavior, was met with Sola's relentless interruptions—her words stinging, laden with blame. It appeared that his hope for a diplomatic resolution had crumbled.

"I know why. It's because you're a pretentious, self-absorbed ass who is more interested in his own survival than anyone else."

Taken aback, Hux felt her words pierce through his defenses, and for a moment he was truly speechless. Then came the anger, he couldn’t stop it. Memories of every time he couldn’t defend himself against those who held power over him came rushing up and spilled forth. In a split second of madness, he angrily ripped off his mask, and he roared back, his voice raw with emotion, 

"I care more about you than I've ever cared about myself!” 

As he continued his outburst, it was met by Sola screaming at him to put his mask back on, calling him an idiot, demanding to know what he was doing, but he didn’t hear her words. 

“I can't stand that you're angry with me, even if I deserve it! I don't want you ignoring me or trying to leave me in the dust of this accursed jungle. I want you to talk to me, hear me! I don't want you sleeping on the other side of the kriffing tent; I want you sleeping with me! If you need to punish me for yesterday, then do it! Hit me until your arms grow weak, but just hear me and let me apologize!"

His outburst hung in the air, a mix of frustration, anger, and a longing for understanding and the jungle was silent once more. Sola stood there, her mouth agape, unable to form a coherent response. The silence that settled between them, the intensity of their argument gave way to a fragile calm. It seemed he had finally reached her, his word shaving surprised even himself. However, he didn’t have long to process his ill-timed confession, when his expression suddenly fell, his face draining of color and his eyes widening in unmistakable terror. Her heart quickened, and a chill ran down her spine, instinctively telling her that something dangerous lurked behind her.

With a slow, cautious turn of her head, Sola's eyes widened at the sight that unfolded before her. Rising from the foliage like a coiled serpent, the I Vino Posy revealed itself in all its menacing glory. Its petals, large and vibrant, resemble the scaled skin of a venomous snake, while the spines protruding from its center mimic wicked fangs.

The plant's stem, adorned with fine hairs, quivered with an eerie sentience, attuned to the slightest movements and vibrations. It had no eyes but it seemed to see them, it seemed to watch them with a predatory intent, as if ready to strike at any moment. Its presence exuded danger, sending primal fear through Sola's body.

Hux slowly took hold of Sola's hands, fingers wrapping securely around her wrists. With deliberate, measured steps, he guided her away from the lurking peril, his gaze fixed on the I Vino Posy, vigilant and ready to act.

Their progress was slow, and each movement was calculated to avoid provoking the dormant beast. Sola kept her eyes locked on Hux, her trust and reliance solely placed on him. Every instinctual response kicked in and told her to run, but Hux's words cut through her thoughts. His tone was both authoritative and gentle, commanding her attention, and providing the reassurance she needed. 

"Keep your eyes on me, Sola," Hux whispered, his words barely audible. "Don't look back, just focus on me."

With every step, she felt a growing weight of anticipation and uncertainty. The instinct to survey her surroundings conflicting with Hux's directive. Yet, in his voice, she heard a plea for her to trust him in this critical moment, and for all the nonsense that had occurred in the past two days, she knew if he said to listen to him then she could trust him. Sola returned her focus to Hux's face, locking eyes with him once more, counting all the shades of green deep in them, counting the subtle freckles that she had always overlooked. 

A flicker of relief passed through Hux's features as he saw Sola complying with his request. "Good girl," he murmured softly. 

Step by cautious step, Hux's voice was a constant easement, constantly urging her to keep her focus on him, to trust in him. The dangers of the jungle retreated to the periphery of their consciousness. With each step, the terrain beneath them became increasingly treacherous, the dense foliage and tangled roots posing constant obstacles, obstacles that Hux seemed to anticipate with each well-placed step as though he was somehow aware of everything around them. Maybe he was.

They both froze in place as a deafening snap shattered their silent retreat. It echoed through the dense jungle as loud as an explosion. Before Sola could process the source, Hux's instincts and training kicked into overdrive, and all pretenses of stealth were abandoned.

They broke into a dead run.

The I Vino Posy sprung into action, unleashing its deadly arsenal. Small, thorny, dart-like barbs shot through the air, aimed at Hux and Sola like venomous projectiles. Whizzing dangerously close to their bodies. Sola's heart skipped a beat as one of the lethal projectiles grazed past her head with a hair's breadth of distance, its presence leaving a chilling sensation in its wake. The sounds of their frantic footsteps mingled with the rustling of leaves and the snapping of vines. The once-peaceful vegetation around them came to life with a vengeance.

Vicious tendrils lashed out from neighboring plants, their thorns sharp and unforgiving, aiming to ensnare Hux and Sola in their deadly embrace. Branches whipped through the air, seeking to trip them up, while grasping roots emerged from the earth, eager to entangle their legs.

Hux's mind raced, searching for a path to safety amid the chaos. He maneuvered with agile precision, his every move calculated to avoid the onslaught of nature's wrath. With Sola's hand still firmly in his grasp, he led her through the treacherous maze of foliage, their only goal to outrun the pursuing threats.

As they pressed on, the cacophony of the awakened jungle intensified. Shrill cries of unseen plants reverberated through the air; like wild animals or predatory beasts, joined the chorus of their frantic escape. Hux and Sola were but fleeting figures amidst the unforgiving wilderness, their survival teetering on a razor's edge with no room for any margin of error.

Their labored breathing filled the air, intermingling with the symphony of death that followed them. The entire environment seemed to conspire against them, with heat and an unyielding density that made every step a struggle.

Higher ground became their singular goal, the promise of a temporary respite from the relentless pursuit of the deadly jungle. As plant life grew sparse the ground became harder and larger rocks replaced the lush undergrowth, it finally came into view. The rocky terrain unfolded before them, and their eyes were drawn to a steep embankment, their only hope for safety. With a surge of determination, they raced up the rugged slope, the adrenaline pumping through their veins.

Every step upward was an arduous battle against gravity, the steep terrain demanding more from them than they could give. Every muscle strained against them, their hands clawing at the loose soil and jagged rocks for purchase. With survival-fueled desperation, Hux pushed Sola forward up the embankment, putting her before him.

But their momentary relief was shattered as Hux's agonized scream pierced the air. 

There, lurking at the base of the embankment, was the Pal Vents Fury—the one plant they had managed to evade until now. Its presence was menacing, resembling a monstrous hybrid of a Venus flytrap and a ravenous creature. The barbed whips of the plant had ensnared Hux, wrapping tightly around his leg, bicep, and shoulder. He struggled against the whips, desperation etched across his face as he fought to free himself.

With each flex, the whips dug deeper into Hux's flesh, causing him to cry out in excruciating pain. Blood trickled from the wounds, dripping into the ground beneath him. The Pal Vents Fury, sensing its trapped prey, began to stir, its maw-like structure opening to reveal rows of barbs resembling menacing teeth. Hux clutched at the vines in pain, trying to wrench them off but every movement on his part brought new waves of pain. The plant's deadly intention was clear—to pull him toward a slow and agonizing demise.

Sola's heart raced and her blood turned to ice in her veins, torn between her desire to save Hux and his own desperate plea for her to go. The terror in his voice and the silent plea in his eyes mirrored the unspoken fear of being left behind.

Hux's face contorted with pain, his voice raw and full of fear. 

Her hands reached for her vibroblade and pulled it from the scabbard, her fingers finding solace in its familiar grip. Fueled by rage, she lunged forward, her movements guided by a desperate sheer determination. The blade pierced the air, slashing at the thick, encroaching whips of the Pal Vents Fury. 

The barbs of the vines recoiled slightly but as they did so they dug further into Hux, he seethed with pain but seeing Sola return to his side gave him the will to keep fighting, to push past the pain. The Pal Vents Fury however trying to deter her from her mission, didn’t stop at just the barbs. The plant began emitting a low, rumbling noise reminiscent of a frog or toad's croak, and its body convulsed as if preparing for something. Before Sola could fully comprehend the situation, the plant erupted, projecting a viscous, ichor-like substance in her direction. It splattered on the ground near her feet, and while most of it missed her, a portion of the corrosive material landed on her mask. A pungent and toxic odor filled her nostrils as the scent of melting plastic assaulted her senses. She couldn't help but cough, and a searing sensation on her neck forced her to momentarily pause her frantic assault. The corrosive ichor had inflicted significant damage to her mask, gradually eating away at the life-supporting device that had shielded her.

She flung the damaged mask to the ground, now left with no means of protecting her face from the jungle's perils. Unable to know if the plant could replicate the attack again right away it pushed her forward in her attack. Through pure stubbornness and unwavering resolve, Sola's relentless assault paid off. Each thrust of the blade was met with a hiss from the plant, ignoring the pain, she persisted, hacking away with relentless force.

With each successful strike, the whip’s hold weakened, and the plant reluctantly conceded that the struggle for this meal wasn’t worth the risk. They began to recoil in pain and defeat, their barbs retracting in a show of reluctant surrender against the superior force. Hux collapsed to the ground, gasping for air and clutching his wounds. 

Not satisfied with their victory over the hostile plant, Sola reached for the blaster that had been on Hux’s belt and fired at the plant in anger, listening to its shrill cries as it burned and suffered the agonizing fate it had intended for Hux. The once vibrant and formidable plant curled in on itself, shriveling as the blaster fire scorched it from the inside out, it produced the smell of burning mulch and its shrill shrieking grew weaker until all that was heard was the sound of sizzling.

Pulling his arm over her shoulder, the sounds of the plant's torment faded into the background. She strained under his weight, summoning every ounce of strength within her. Together, they began their arduous ascent up the embankment, each step a painful reminder of their recent ordeal.

As they reached the top of the embankment, their eyes caught sight of an opening that resembled a cave— that offered a semblance of shelter. Her body trembling with exhaustion and relief. Finally, they collapsed onto the rocky floor, their bodies craving respite from the physical and emotional strain.

Inside the cave, the air was cool and still, providing a momentary sanctuary from the perilous jungle outside. Sola's breaths came in ragged gasps. Hux too had collapsed and he lay a few feet away from her, she reached out for him, but her arm was so heavy that she couldn’t quite reach him. The scent of dirt and dampness filled the air, and as the adrenaline faded from her body, Sola couldn’t hold out against the pull of unconsciousness and the world around her went soft, her eyes grew weak and a weightlessness set in as she too lost consciousness. 

~~~

Hux’s eyes opened and all he knew was pain. His attempt to push himself up, resulted in his injured arm giving way, sending him crashing back down to the ground. His lungs clawed for air as any additional movement only resulted in excruciating agony. His breaths came in short, labored gasps, and it felt as though his lungs were going to collapse in on him.

His chest constricted with each attempt to regulate his breathing, with immense effort, he managed to roll onto his side, his muscles protesting every order given to them. From there, he maneuvered himself onto his back. Blood seeped from his shoulder, arm, and his leg. 

If it was as bad as it felt he struggled to find a way to pull himself up and out of this. But memories of beatings and the pain of being kicked with steel-toe boots rose to the forefront of his mind; he’d survived those. The sizzling burn of the blaster that nearly killed him, he’d survived that. The tumultuous crash of the shuttle, if he’d survived all of that he could certainly survive this too. With some renewed determination to not let the thing that killed him be… a plant, he forced himself up and away from the pull of unconsciousness. 

Taking stock of his surroundings his heart sank. Sola lay motionless, her arm extended towards him as though she had tried to reach him. Concern flooded his thoughts, but he knew he couldn’t help her until he assessed his own condition.

The surviving pack was within reach, and his trembling hands extracted the emergency medical kit. Its contents were minimal and not meant for injuries of this nature. A survival tool, vibrobalde, bacta patches, sedatives, bandages, antiseptic, and a dose of some type of pain medication. He didn’t know exactly what it was but knew what he was about to do would be excruciating, he wasted no time and jabbed the syringe into his leg.

Positioning himself against a cave wall he reached into his pocket and pulled out a single leather glove. The blood had dried, adhering his shirt to his skin and peeling it away producing fresh waves of pain that made his stomach lurch.

He was a mess. Lacerations on his left bicep and shoulder were fairly deep and jagged. He set his jaw and bit down on the leather glove, inhaling deeply several times in an attempt to steady his nerves before he began. 

His hand was still shaking as he used the pliers on the survival tool to grasp at one of the barbs sticking out of his arm. He whimpered slightly and he trembled as he counted to three in his head, when he reached three, he pulled. All sound went away, replaced by the unsettling ringing of tinnitus, and fresh crippling shockwaves of pain coursed through his body and he cried out into the glove clenched between his teeth. 

One down. 

With a methodical precision, he repeated the process over a dozen times, extracting barbs from his bicep, shoulder, and leg until his knuckles were white. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his jaw ached from biting down. The survival tool fell from his grip, clattering on the ground, its task completed and he spat out the glove taking in lungfuls of air trying to force his body into a state of disassociation. His nerves were crying out for something to ease the pain and he fought slipping back into unconsciousness. 

The soothing relief provided by the bacta patches washed over him like gentle waves. Its adhesive would seal the wounds and protect them as its cooling gel began to assist in the healing process. Throughout the process, Hux glanced at Sola, his concern for her well-being gnawing at him. He shifted putting his back to her, unable to look at her seeing the repercussions of his own actions. 

With the worst of it behind him, a new sensation began coursing through him; anger. Outright fury at the whole fucking thing. 

It raged through his veins like a magmatic river, fueled by a litany of frustrations. The storm. The crash. The heat. The lost gear. The kriffing Pal Vents Fury. The pain. All of it. Then the final thing. The cracked o-ring of his mask. The thing that started all of it. It all boiled upwards inside of him until it exploded like a reactor, unleashed in the form of a scream. 

Damn, this kriffing island.

He screamed until his lungs burned and his voice cracked. Finally spent, he had nothing else to expel. The numbing effect of the contents of the syringe began to take over and the pain finally began to fade, a sense of euphoria swept over him bringing a comforting numbness. He began to feel a bit tipsy and light-headed As silence began to take over once more his anger shifted inwards directed to himself and his failures. Every decision he’d ever made that led him to this moment. But amidst it all a realization hit him, one that surprised him. When he had stupidly removed his mask and made that confession to Sola, he hadn’t felt regret or fear. Not at all. Instead a strange sense of liberation, and a flicker of something else. Hope? He didn’t know. 

Now what?

~~~

Jolted to consciousness, Sola’s eyes snapped open to the sound of a scream, it cut through the haze of her disoriented state, bringing her back to the harsh reality of her dire situation. As her vision became clear she saw Hux leaning against the wall, his fists clenched and unclenched on nothing as though he were struggling to control his anger. His entire body was seemingly driven by a quiet rage that pulsed through him, she’d seen this before. Hux wasn’t an outwardly violent man, he didn’t shout, scream, or throw things when he was angry. Instead, his rage would turn inward and he would go silent and rigid. She’d only seen his rage unleashed once and he’d left a considerable dent in the side of an x wing. 

A wave of panic washed over Sola as she tried to make sense of the scene before her. Time seemed distorted, and she couldn’t discern how long they had been in the cave, unconscious and vulnerable. Her gaze remained fixed on Hux, his hunched form consumed by a wave of fierce anger. The depth of his breathing, like an enraged bull, resonated with the intensity of his emotions. Sola's heart clenched with a mixture of concern and fear as she watched him. His distant stare and detached demeanor were as if he was lost in a waking nightmare or trapped within the confines of his own mind. It was a side of Hux she had never seen, and the unfamiliarity filled her with a deep sense of dread.

The cave felt suffocating like she was awaiting an eruption that may come at any moment. She remained alert, her senses attuned to the slightest shift in Hux's demeanor, ready to respond, though she had no idea what she would do. 

There had been no real information available on the symptoms of the Pax Reaver, so there was no way to tell what symptoms he would be exhibiting if he had been affected. Hux had taken off his mask in the jungle, exposing himself to the unknown effects of the Pax. She couldn’t recall seeing any of the dual-natured plants themselves when they made their getaway, but the spores may have been carried through the air, potentially affecting him.

The realization that they were not out of danger was close by. She remained rooted to the spot, shunted by the two most terrifying words in existence. 

What if?

What if he had been affected by the Pax? What if he was seconds away from turning into a mindlessly violent beast? 

She stood little chance against him, even in his current condition. His military background, combat skills, and physical prowess dwarfed her own capabilities. She lacked weapons, any place to hide, and making an escape seemed near impossible. Hux would easily overpower her, and the consequences would be dire.

Her thoughts instinctively turned to survival. 

She couldn’t overpower him, she couldn’t hide, and escape wasn’t an option, she had no means of protecting herself out there any more than within the confines of the cave. 

An insane thought entered her head. 

She began to consider the possibility of a different reaction from Hux, one that the data she had read days ago hinted at—an amorous response. This triggered a shift in her thinking, opening up a new avenue of potential influence over Hux's state.

Sola contemplated her options, it couldn’t work, it was too stupid. But what other choice did she have? Waiting to die wasn’t her preference. 

Sola's mind raced, weighing the risks and possibilities. Desperation fueled her determination, leaving her with little choice but to act, even if her plan seemed reckless and fraught with uncertainty.

The prospect of the Pax taking hold of him, amplifying his aggression and rendering him a danger to himself and herself, loomed ominously in her mind. She understood that her safety and their chances of survival depended on finding a way to neutralize the threat he unwittingly posed.

Her heart pounded in her chest, she braced herself for the enormous gamble she was about to take—an attempt to influence Hux's state.

Her movements were deliberate, a slow crawl that maintained control and ensured her eye contact remained more general than direct. Hux turned and his tired and distant eyes met hers, momentarily interrupting her advance. He finally seemed to reconnect with reality and notice her close proximity. As she carefully inched closer, her movements measured, every fiber of her being was attuned to Hux's reactions, keenly aware that any sudden or threatening gesture could trigger an uncontrollable outburst.

~~~

The plan. What was the plan? 

Get to the mentoring station. Shut it down. Submit the Resistance distress frequency codes.

It was deceptively simple but that didn’t mean it was easy. He broke it down further in his head; get to the station. How? 

Think you blithering idiot. 

His mind drifted back to the academy once more, in battle everything is broken down into the simplest of steps so that even the simplest fool can obey instructions. His mind sharpened as he drew on his years of military experience switching to a tactical outlook. 

Sitting in the dimly lit cave, Hux's mind raced with a jumble of thoughts, emotions, and pain. 

Focus, Hux. Prioritize.

He clenched his jaw, trying to push through the haze of exhaustion and the adrenaline crash that threatened to overwhelm him. His military training kicked in, allowing him to compartmentalize his thoughts and analyze the situation.

Objective: Reach the monitoring station, and send out a distress signal. 

Hux repeated the words in his mind, the clarity providing a temporary respite from the chaos. He knew that rescuing Sola and himself hinged on reaching that station and alerting the Rebel forces. But there were obstacles to overcome.

First, the wounds.

He was able to at least check one item off the list. 

Second, the route. 

The absence of wildlife or enemy forces was a small relief, but he couldn’t let his guard down. They had to tread carefully, avoiding any pitfalls or treacherous terrain that could impede their progress. Neither of them had their masks anymore. A problem. His mind raced, taking into account his own injuries and Sola's limited mobility.

Third, resources. 

Hux surveyed their surroundings, the pack that had survived their mad dash through the jungle didn’t hold much; the medical kit, the data stick with the frequency codes, the survival tool, vibroblade, a few rations, a torch. What they had left was minimal, laughable really. 

The weight of anger and fear crept into Hux's thoughts, threatening to undermine his focus. 

Don't succumb to emotions. Stay sharp. 

He took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs, and exhaled slowly, allowing a momentary calm to wash over him.

Fatigue crashed against him like relentless waves, urging him to succumb to sleep. His eyelids grew heavy, threatening to seal shut. 

Stay awake, Hux. Don't let exhaustion consume you. 

He shook his head, attempting to clear the fog in his mind.

They needed to mobilize as soon as they could and make for the summit. Yes, that was it. Simple as that. He just needed a few minutes…

A subtle sound of movement disrupted his inner struggle, compelling him to reopen his eyes. There, before him, Sola crawled towards him with deliberate slowness and an oddly calm look on her face. She came to settle in his lap, her hands resting on his shoulders then moving up his neck. She carded a hand through his hair and his eyes fluttered at the sensation after everything they had been through in the last twenty-four hours, the gentleness of her touch was a welcome one.

Sola.

Those stormy eyes locked onto him, there was an intensity in her stare that he’d never seen from her before but perhaps it was the culmination of the last few days. Just as he was about to ask what was wrong, her soft, cool fingers brushed against his lip so simplistically that it was hypnotizing. The intimacy of the gesture left tingling trails of fire across his lips that he both loved and hated yet left him craving more. Her voice, softer than usual, resonated in the stillness of the cave, uttering a reassurance. 

“It’s alright.”

Was she talking about how they both survived? Was she talking about what he’d told her in the jungle? He had no idea but the depth of her calmness silenced all thoughts that had been previously consuming his mind. The soft pads of her fingertips danced over his lips, over the hard stubble of his jaw, and delicately down his neck. His heart was beating to the cadence of an imperial march inside his chest as his eyes followed her hand. Gently caressing his wounded shoulder and arm with a silken touch that began to erase all memories of pain.

His mind was still trying to process the unexpected turn of events, not noticing how her lips had drifted closer to his until they were on his. He had expected an equally soft touch but Sola had no such plans, her kiss was firm and left no room for misinterpretation. This was a kiss to convey desire, lust, and a desperate need to touch. 

He had so many questions but the warmth of her lips was causing his mind to short-circuit like a damaged droid. His muscles tensed and twitched as though all impulses couldn’t agree on what to do. 

The lightheaded euphoria that often accompanied a kiss made everything seem so far away as his lips began to move against hers. Sola breathed a sigh of relief at his passivity and how quickly he reciprocated. She was caught off guard at how much she enjoyed the sound of his breathing, the way it hitched in his chest at first then slowly came down like he had finished running a marathon. 

His initial shock had worn off and a combination of instinct and personal preferences rose up making him a more active participant in this intimate moment. He’d ignored sexual desires for a long time and now with Sola’s warm tongue coaxing his mouth open, it was waking things in him he’d pushed down for literal years. But while he enjoyed it, he craved something more leisurely and laid back.

Hux’s desire to savor the moment was met with unexpected resistance. Sola's assertive mouth moved hungrily over his as if she was trying to rile him up and he’d be damned if it wasn’t working. Her hands splayed over his chest, gently stroking his wounds, slipping around him, mindful not to hurt him.

He felt that urge rise up in him, the one from a man who hadn’t known a woman’s touch in a very long time. The one that demanded he tear off her clothes, throw her down and sink his cock deep into her until she cried out his name. It threatened to spill over and consume him. But he didn’t want that, he wanted to savor every taste, every touch, every kiss, and every thrust. 

His attempts to guide their lips into a more sensual rhythm and establish a slower tempo were met each time with resistance, in the form of unexpected urgency from Sola. When he pulled back, she nipped at his lips, sucked on his tongue, and licked his lower lip. When he was gentle, she was aggressive. She pressed herself against him, tugged on the hair at the back of his neck, and shifted in his lap so that there was tantalizing friction between them that drew soft moans from both of them. 

A flicker of unease tugged at the back of his mind.

This isn't like Sola. What's happening?

The cloud of lust constantly threatened to derail him, tempting him to just give in to the moment and ignore what his instincts were trying to tell him. 

Wait. Is this the Pax?

The pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place within his mind, understanding dawning upon him.

The air grew charged with a mix of apprehension, desire, and guilt. He could feel her hands tugging on his unruly, messy locks. Conflicted between his rational understanding of the situation and the overwhelming sensations that were quickly engulfing him. Hux didn’t have many relationships, mostly out of his desire to remain unattached and unburdened by emotion and weakness. But he was still a man and Sola was having an effect on him each time she ground against his lap, his cock ached and strained against his trousers. 

Despite realizing Sola wasn’t in her right state of mind, he struggled to bring himself to stop her. The selfish part of his brain told him to just shut up and be grateful that she wasn’t displaying aggression; to just let her touch him. When he felt her teeth on his lower lip again, he drew in a sharp breath allowing Sola access to his mouth once more, and he groaned as she clenched his hair in between her fingers.

He could easily overpower Sola. He knew the techniques and strategies that would allow him to swiftly separate himself from her and ways to restrain her. With a surge of determination, and using considerable force he wrenched his mouth away from hers and hating himself for it. Hux gathered his strength and tried once more to speak, to reach her, breaking the spell of the moment. He looked into Sola's eyes, searching for a glimmer of recognition, hoping to reach the real Sola hidden beneath the influence of the Pax. 

“Sola, what-?” 

His words died before he had a chance to utter them completely when he felt her scrape her nails against his scalp, and her lips move down his jaw to his neck. 

Again, she cut him off. “Hux, it’s me.” It sounded like she was trying to reassure him. Her words were breathy and full of desire.

He was quickly losing the battle. 

Lust clouded his judgment, she sucked hard on his neck, leaving marks that sent primal desires through all men, quickly wearing away his frayed resolve. The sensation was almost too much for him; he sharply seized her jaw, forcing a hard kiss to her mouth. In the midst of his dying internal struggle, he realized that he was no longer just reciprocating Sola's kiss, he had taken over it. It was no longer just a brushing of lips but a growing fire of lips, tongue, and teeth. 

~~~

As his tongue swept into her mouth with a ravenous hunger, he rationalized that staying with him was the safest course of action in Sola’s condition. If he were to forcibly remove her from him and attempt to reach the station alone, she could be exposed to various dangers. The hand that gripped her jaw, threaded into her hair and pulled hard enough that her head jerked back, exposing her throat to him. Would she wander back into the treacherous depths of the jungle they had narrowly escaped? His arms locked tightly around her digging into her hips, keeping her firmly where he wanted her in his lap. Or would she relentlessly pursue him, driven by the altered state of her mind, bringing injury to both of them? He inhaled deeply and dragged his lips up her neck, tongue darting out to taste her skin.

This is the only logical way to keep her from further harm. 

Coherent thoughts continued to slip further from his grasp, like grains of sand. 

In the midst of his dying internal struggle, he realized that he was no longer just reciprocating Sola's kiss, he had taken over it. It was no longer just a brushing of lips but a growing fire of lips, tongue, and teeth. 

Her insane plan seemed to be working, his aggression had dissipated as he began to respond to her advances. 

His brief spell of hesitancy had disappeared and now sounds she never imagined she could hear from the stoic former general came tumbling past his lips in between each hungry kiss. Sounds that she would keep stored away tightly for a rainy day if she survived this.

It was a relief to see him no longer consumed by anger, but judging by the hard bulge in his trousers Sola realized quickly that she had unwittingly stepped into another precarious situation. 

Those same arms she’d slept in quickly pulled her shirt overhead and tossed it aside. It was then that Sola saw the flaw in her plan: she didn’t plan beyond her initial objective. She also hadn’t considered the consequences of her plan, those being; what if it worked? 

She didn’t know how long the Pax Reavers effects would last or if there would be any adverse reactions. She realized that what she meant to be a quick but exhaustive encounter was actually becoming much more. She’d seen the sedatives from the medical kit, they weren’t so far that she couldn’t reach them, but all thought of grabbing it began to fade, each time she tried to grab for it he redirected her hands somewhere on his body. His chest, his back, his shoulders, up into his hair, showing her exactly where he wanted to be touched and something about that forwardness was arousing. It seemed that although Hux was a quite man in most regards, the bedroom wasn’t included in that.

One of his calloused hands cradled the back of her neck and with a very suspicious finesse from his other hand saw the clasp of her bra undone, then it was gone. Her bare skin against his and just like that, Sola had forgotten about furthering any plans of regaining control of the situation, and she was fine with that. 

All internal conversations about the morality of what they were doing had completely fallen silent. The alarm bells that should have been sounding in both their minds were dormant, clouded by immediate pleasure. 

They became a tangled mess of hands pulling and clawing at one another. No longer burdened by pain with each movement, Hux surged forward pushing Sola onto her back, moving his hungry mouth down her neck, dipping his tongue into her collarbone.

There were still far too many layers between them and he struggled to focus on taking the rest of her clothes off without tearing them. If they survived what came next it would be difficult to explain why, upon rescue, Sola was naked. Unfastening her pants one-handed tested his patience, but he managed to ease it down her hips, while she worked to kick her boots off. 

A deep groan resonated within his chest when he felt the jerking sensation of Sola’s hands working to unclasp his belt brought an amused smirk to his face, he lifted his hips slightly, just enough for her to pull them down over his hips. 

Regrettably, placing more distance between them, Hux rose up to his knees and hurriedly shoved the garment down his legs. He didn’t have to mourn the loss of her touch though: his heart nearly stopped and his head lolled back when he felt her hot tongue dancing across his skin. Accompanied by the blissful sting of her nails raking from his chest down his thighs, and he found himself briefly powerless.

His eyes went dark and only a stream of syllables tumbled from his lips. He struggled to remember how to breathe as the wet heat of her mouth engulfed his cock, lips darkened and wet with saliva. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd had a woman’s lips wrapped around his length, all practical thought had ceased and all he could do was process the immense pleasure she was giving him.

His strangled moan shattered the relative silence of the cave, and his breath came in shallow bursts. The way her tongue swirled around his head, dipping into his slit and the gentle scraping of her teeth against his shaft sent jolts of ecstasy that coursed through his body. 

He shuddered, she was too good at this, it felt too good. He was struggling against the sensations that threatened to overwhelm him, knowing all too well that if he didn’t find a way to calm down, then he was done for. 

“Fuck!”

The harshness of his words tore right through her, but the way his body jerked against her touch only made Sola want him more. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft and firmly stroked him as she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked hard. Hux wasn’t a man to really swear or raise his voice, so to hear him losing control of himself in the throws of passion gave her chills and the sense of power she held over him intoxicated her. 

He couldn’t even manage her name. Each time she swallowed him a little more, his hips rocked forward bringing him closer and closer, his hands were gripping her hair; half pushing her down onto him, half trying to pull her off. The moan that reverberated in the back of her throat when he did this, nearly sent him over the edge. 

As predicted, Sola was sorely outmatched when it came to physical strength against Hux. He used his grip on her hair pulling, removing himself from her mouth, pushing her onto her back again. Frantically pulling the last of his clothes off, the sound of his boots hitting the walls punctuated the silence. He seized her hands, forcing them above her head, and there was nothing Sola could do about it. Several days without shaving had left a five o’clock shadow that was bringing a painfully delicious burn to her lips each time he kissed her. He swallowed every sound she made, his tongue rolling over hers, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. 

He left her lips swollen and red while he licked a wet trail down her neck, flicking his tongue over her collar. His teeth nipped at her skin as he worked his way down, her breath becoming more shallow and her murmurs more needy. 

A sound that was meant to be his name came out a needy gasp when he wet his lips and wrapped them around her nipple, tongue swirling in a torturous fashion. He’d finally established the slower pace he wanted and there was nothing Sola could do to stop him. Although based on how her hips and back arched against him she wasn’t objecting. He took his time languidly tasting her, working her up into a needy mess before switching to her neglected breast and fresh whimpers began anew. 

Lost in the haze of lust, Hux was vaguely aware of someone calling his name but the words were incoherent and all he could hear was his own heart pounding in his own head. The sound became more desperate, it was only when it was nearly pleading that he managed to pull himself away from her saliva-slicked nipples to realize that she was trembling and panting his name. Her chest heaved against him and she was struggling against his grip, pleading with him to let her go, uttering the word ‘please’ again and again. 

Suddenly unsure of why he’d restrained her in the first place he let her go and his hands began a frantic exploration of her body, one gripping her hip and the other seeking out her other breast to continue his torment. He returned to tease her hard nipple, determined to pull as many sounds from Sola Vex as he possibly could. He could feel her hands in his hair again, nails raking over his scalp and down the back of his neck and it sent chills down his spine. Her heavy breathing and the occasional utterance of his name made for a sound he’d hoped that he would die before he forgot. 

“Fuck Hux!” She finally managed to string together more than two syllables when she felt his knee between her thighs. 

With a nudge of his knee, her legs parted, one wrapping around his waist pulling him closer. His hips rolled and he groaned, being close enough that he could just sink into her and chase his orgasm until he collapsed. The battle of maintaining the discipline necessary to not be such a selfish lover was monstrous but compartmentalization was valuable in any situation. Even when lying naked atop a woman who had clawed at your clothes like they’d personally offended her. 

He brought his fingers up to her mouth and she didn’t hesitate to wrap her lips around them sucking hard, enjoying the look of desire that washed over him. Her tongue licked from his knuckles to his fingertips mimicking how she’d sucked his cock. Withdrawing his fingers from her lips he watched her expression as his hand trailed down her body slipping between her legs and teasing her slit. 

He wore a grin of satisfaction, watching her mouth attempt to form words, his touch barely grazing her so close to where she wanted it. He didn’t make her suffer long, he wasn’t cruel, her eyes fluttered closed and she positively whimpered at the feel of his finger penetrating her. He shuddered. Tight. Hot. Wet. Perfect.  

For him. 

All of it was for him. The sound of Sola’s breathing mixed with gentle moans was all the encouragement he needed before he added another finger, continuing to stroke her. Her legs trembled slightly and hips back canted into his hand. 

This snapped him out of his reverie long enough for a firm jerk of his hair to pull him closer to her mouth, her tongue parted the seam of his lips with no resistance aside from a groan. 

The last tenants of guilt made a final stand for Hux’s conscience. 

“Tell me, tell me you want this.” His words were far more composed than hers and it just wasn’t fair, his heart rate was wild and he sounded like he was on the brink of madness.

This wasn’t real consent, this wasn’t what she really wanted but he was too far gone to be able to stop. His desire to hear her say it only served to alleviate his guilty conscience. 

Every inch of him ached yet he refused to move until he heard the words, his muscles ached for pleasure and his cock wept, unbearably hard. 

First, he heard a frustrated groan, and she threw her head back in exasperation. His breath on her lips was heavy and needy, she was shaking. 

She took his hand and wrapped her lips around his fingers one at a time, sucking hard, and felt him tremble against her as his body locked up. “Want you.” 

She continued to mumble back her desire for him in broken words but Hux had already heard what he needed to hear. And he offered no further words or suggestions, gripping his cock and jerking slowly for a moment catching his breath. She pulled him down for a kiss, her hips ground against his and her hands gripped his arms. Hux groaned and aligned himself with her entrance, he waited a perfectly painful moment before pushing forward. 

Worth it. 

His body pulsed and he couldn’t contain the sound he made at feeling her crush him. He shuddered at the intensity, she wrapped her legs around him and her back arched against him trying to pull him closer. Her chest heaved and her nails dug into his back. 

Hux his body shook. Years. It had been years. Every muscle was firing erratically, triggering spasms and waves of pleasure. 

“Fuck- Fuck-!” He grunted against her lips while he tried to manage his breathing. He kissed her hard enough to bruise her lips and licked his way inside her mouth far outpacing her own assertiveness from earlier. 

The realization was that this wouldn’t last long hit him and he hated himself for it, he’d wanted to make it last. He told himself he’d make it up to her later, he promised himself, if she let him, he’d have her thrashing in bed while he pulled orgasm after orgasm from her till she begged him to stop. 

She whimpered his name against his lips, almost pleadingly. He braced himself on his forearms and finally started to move, thrusts starting slow and deep. Sola released a half sob, a half gasp in relief and she clutched into him. 

“Faster, harder.” She grunted against his mouth again, it came out like a plea. “Hux,” the way she said his name there was no argument. 

He complied, increasing his pace, hips snapping forward each time giving him more of those sounds he never wanted to forget. But it wasn’t enough for Sola, she wanted more and he was holding back. In a motion that surprised both of them, she forced enough leverage and rolled the two of them so that Hux was now on his back. 

She sunk down on him hard, watching his eyes roll into the back of his head and his jaw-dropping, a visual she’d enjoy for years to come. 

“Fucking hell Sola!” He hissed, finally letting go of some of his control. 

Each time she rocked her hips against him saw new tremors race through him as he saw stars. When he started to gain his bearings, she rose up on her knees and then slammed down hard on him. His moan tore through the cave and he was lost again, only able to manage a string of curses. Each time he felt he had the strength to rise up and switch their positions she’d slam down on him and take his breath away, in a torturous cycle. It was fucking perfect. 

He didn’t have much longer, it felt too good, too hot, too tight, too perfect. Fuck, it had been too long. All he had to do was lie back and let the sensations overtake him. Let her use him. 

Sola couldn’t fight the smirk that tugged at her lips, kirff; he looked good like this. Hair a proper mess, chest heaving and glistening with sweat, delirious with pleasure, naked underneath her. Their new position gave a depth to his lazy upward thrusts that hit differently. Deeper. It was just enough of a distraction for Hux to make one final power play. 

With adrenaline coursing through him and a desire to see her fall apart before he did, he snaked his arm around her waist and threw her off of him, and in a surprising display of strength he growled the word “Up.” He roughly pulled Sola to her shaky feet and hoisted her up into his arms “Wrap your legs around me.” She immediately followed the command unprepared for how much she enjoyed that tone in his voice then cried out when he slammed back into her as her back hit the wall of the cave. The rocks scratched but it was less than a tickle compared to the dizzying pleasurable intensity with which Hux was now fucking her. 

He buried his face into her neck and licked at the salt on her skin, he didn’t hold back now he slammed hard and deep into her with her against the wall while she desperately clung to him. She cried out with each hard thrust hitting her clit and she bucked back against him to prolong the sensation. Impossibly tight grew tighter, strangling his cock, the waves of an orgasm began lapping at him, and with how her legs tightened around him and her cries became more frantic, her nails raked his back she wasn’t far off. 

When the waves finally crashed against him, he grunted against her mouth wanting to feel her lips and tongue on his. He drank in all her cries and bucked hard as her own orgasm wracked her body and she sobbed into his mouth. 

The eruption of pleasure coursed through his body, rippling through his aching muscles. He shook almost violently as he pumped every last drop into her not caring for consequences, not caring for how she might hate him later. For now, he’d had her, made her scream and cry out with a need for him, made her cum, and he felt fucking good. His lips slowed against hers as the sensations began to fade and tiredness replaced lust. He couldn’t imagine being in a state of mind where this was all he felt, that wasn’t to say he didn’t want her again, he did. But he was sure it was all Sola could feel and he didn’t have long until she was presumably crawling back on top of him. 

Gently as he could, he set her down on her feet, nearly collapsing, relying only on the resistance of his feet against the rough floor to keep them from crumping to the ground. They sunk down to their knees, unable to support themselves any longer. He disentangled himself from her, reluctantly pulling himself from her warmth and almost passing out from the excessive pleasure and overstimulation. Sola wore a look that painted her in a similar light to that of a sated cat, he smirked knowing he’d done that to her. Sure enough, Sola was pushing herself up toward him. 

It did wonders for his ego even if he knew it wasn’t genuine desire. He couldn’t possibly take her again so soon, as much as he wanted to, he’d need a few minutes at best. Instead, he eased her onto her back again, gentler than last time, kissing her much softer but still deep enough that she didn’t fight him for control.

He cradled her neck with each kiss, and his other hand slipped down her body and settled between her legs, again her hips bucked when his calloused fingers brushed against her lips still hot and dripping with his cum. He applied devilish pressure against her clit with his thumb while tasting her mouth again and drinking in the sounds she made for him. He hesitated, what kind of a bastard would he be if he denied her what he was building up to, especially after how he’d just taken her? Hard and rough, granted she didn’t complain. 

He sucked hard on her neck listening to the noises she made, continuing those small right circles. Her breathing became more labored once more and moans poured from her lips. Just a bit more and she’d fall apart again for him. 

“Another, give me another.” 

Every gentle stroke of his thumb made her want to cry, her whole body tightened as he pushed her closer and closer, and every twitch of her hips against his hand served as a reminder that it wouldn’t take much to push her just a little further. Hux’s talent and insight were something to marvel at, when her second orgasm hit her, harder than the first, his fingers were barely brushing her sensitive clit. Her back arched and her toes curled, she cursed and moaned his name over and over while she clutched onto him for dear life. As soon as the pleasure began to subside something else replaced it, a sharp sting in her neck, then warmth, and a sleepiness she didn’t expect. Her eyes grew heavier and the world grew softer and she couldn’t fight it. Her eyes fluttered closed barely registering something that looked like the sedative and she slumped into unconsciousness once more. 

Chest heaving with labored breath, Hux flopped over onto his back eager to catch his breath for the first time all day. He really wanted a cigarette. 

~~~

The haze of sedation clung tightly to Sola, her senses met with a blur of light and movement. She was lying in a reclined position on a stretcher, surrounded by the sterile walls of a medical shuttle. The soft hum of machinery filled the air, accompanied by the distant murmurs of hushed conversations.

Her eyelids were heavy, she struggled to focus, her mind grasping at fragments of memories from the recent events. The flickering images of the cave, the rain-soaked jungle, and the intense intimacy with Hux danced at the edge of her consciousness, like elusive dreams slipping away.

As Sola tried to piece together her surroundings, the voices of the shuttle crew reached her ears, muffled and distant. Their words are garbled, swirling in her foggy mind. She caught snippets of conversation, fragments of concern.

"...severe injuries to his arm, shoulder, and leg..."

"...showing signs of heat exhaustion and dehydration..."

"...they've been missing for almost a week..."

The crew's words faded in and out, blending with the gentle hum of the shuttle's engines. Sola's brow furrowed as she attempted to make sense of the fragments, her memory still clouded. It was as if her mind was swimming through a thick fog, struggling to find clarity.

A particular mention caught her attention, a sentence that cut through the haze like a ray of light. 

"...He's condition is worse than her. He'll need time in a bacta tank to fully recover."

The words lingered in Sola's mind, mingling with the flickers of memories. Her gaze shifted towards Hux, who lay unconscious nearby, his injuries evident even in his unresponsive state. She tried to summon her voice, to call out to him, to reassure herself of his presence, but her words came out as slurred whispers lost in the expanse of the shuttle's medical bay.

"...need to keep her sedated until we reach the medical facility..."

Before she could fully process the implications of their condition, she felt a gentle prick in her neck again. A wave of drowsiness washed over her as the sedative took effect once more, wrapping her in a comforting veil of unconsciousness. 

As Sola's consciousness began to slip once again, she clung to the remnants of the conversation she overheard. There was a subtle undercurrent of surprise in the crew's voices, begrudging respect for Hux's act of saving her despite his own injuries. With a heavy sigh, Sola succumbed to the pull of unconsciousness once more. The world around her faded to black, leaving her thoughts suspended in the shadows of her mind.

~~~

Sola's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sterile surroundings of the medical bay. She felt groggy and disoriented. She remembered glimpses of her and Hux's arrival and the sight of him submerged in a bacta tank, still unconscious. 

A medical droid approached her bedside, its metallic voice cutting through the silence. 

"How are you feeling, Sola?" it inquired, its tone devoid of emotion.

Sola rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of confusion pressing upon her. "I... I can't remember anything. What happened?" her voice filled with frustration and apprehension.

The droid responded calmly, "The sedatives you received can cause temporary memory loss. Your recollection should improve with time. You've been unconscious for two days while we assessed your medical condition and treated your injuries."

She tensed up, panic flickering in her eyes. "Hux. What about Hux? Where is he?" Sola attempted to sit up, but her weakened state betrayed her, leaving her vulnerable on the medical table.

Medical personnel rushed over to assist her, gently easing her back into a more comfortable position. The droid stepped in to address her concerns. "Armitage Hux is alive. His injuries were severe, requiring an extended stay in the bacta tank. He suffered lacerated muscles, hairline fractures, and significant blood loss. But he is stable now, and we expect him to regain consciousness soon."

Relief washed over Sola mingled with lingering worry for Hux's well-being. 

Sola's weariness intensified as the weight of the past days bore down upon her. With a lingering sense of unease and longing, she raised her hand to her temple, her tired eyes meeting the gaze of the medical droid. "I feel... like I drank too much," she admitted.

"That is a side effect often associated with heat exhaustion and dehydration, both of which you and Hux suffered. That sensation will pass soon. In the meantime, I have brought you a change of clothes. You can get dressed now," 

Sola took the neatly folded clothes and slowly began to dress, her movements somewhat sluggish. As she finished slipping her boots on, the door slid open, and her eyes widened at the sight of Hux entering the room. He appeared exhausted, his hair still damp from the bacta treatment. Clad in white medical scrubs pants and an open-fronted robe, his expression filled with visible relief upon seeing her in the form of a nod

Hux followed the guidance of the second medical droid, allowing himself to be led to a nearby table. Sola's attention drifted between their conversation and Hux's presence, her mind still grappling with the haze of her own recovery.

The second droid addressed Hux, and asked about his pain levels and if he was able to move without discomfort. Hux nods and replies in a tired voice, "It’s manageable, now. I can move without significant discomfort." 

The droid proceeded to examine his arm and chest, observing the light scarring and informing Hux that the scars might fade over time but there would likely be some permanent discoloration. It confirmed that his fractures had been fully healed, the muscle tissue repaired, and that he received necessary blood transfusions. 

Meanwhile, the droid attending to Sola approached her, emphasizing the importance of caution in her recovery. 

"Due to the multiple sedatives you were given, it is crucial for you to avoid any strenuous physical activity for now. They can have interactions that require careful monitoring," Its synthetic voice loosely mimicked a tone of concern.

Sola nodded absentmindedly, absorbing the information. As the conversation between the medical droids continued, Sola's attention drifted back to her surroundings. 

Sola's brow furrowed as she fully processed the droid's explanation. "Sedatives?" she repeated, her voice filled with confusion. "I only remember the shuttle."

The droid responded with a calm and matter-of-fact tone, "Indeed, you were given a sedative by the medical team upon realizing you were conscious again. However, Hux also administered a sedative to you."

Sola's eyes widened, her confusion gave way to a mix of exasperation and slight outrage. "You drugged me?" her voice tinged with disbelief.

Hux avoided meeting her gaze, his eyes shifting uncomfortably. He cringed slightly as if anticipating trouble. "I sedated you," he corrected her, his voice barely above a murmur.

The droid stepped in to offer clarification, sensing the tension in the room. "Hux informed the medical team about your injuries and expressed concerns about potential further harm. As a precautionary measure, he administered a sedative to ensure your safety."

Sola's mind raced, connecting the dots between Hux's actions and their intimate encounter in the cave. Suddenly, a vivid memory of their passionate moment flashed before her eyes. Her mouth dropped open slightly in realization, but she quickly snapped it shut, choosing not to voice her thoughts.

A brief silence settled over the room, filled with unspoken questions and a hint of tension. The medical droids, sensing the need to shift the focus, engage in their own conversation, discussing the progress of Sola and Hux's recovery. 

The droid first addressed Hux. “Your fractures have successfully healed, and the muscle damage has been fully repaired. The blood transfusions were effective in restoring your health, and you should not be experiencing any pain. However, it's important to avoid engaging in heavy physical activities for a while to ensure a smooth recovery.”

“Understood.” The droid now turned to Sola. 

“Sola, your recovery has also been successful. The sedatives administered during your treatment may cause temporary memory lapses, but your memory should return to normal soon.” Sola nodded as well. “Furthermore, the medical scans indicated recent sexual activity, but all the results show a healthy status. Also, the pregnancy test came back negative, so you are not pregnant. Lastly, your implant has been replaced, and it should function properly for another seven years.”

“Thank you,” Sola replied rather stiffly. 

“Both of you are cleared to leave the medical bay but do keep in mind the precautions mentioned earlier. Do you have any parting questions before you are released?”

Hux spoke up. "Are there any lasting effects from the biological stimulants we need to be aware of?."

The droid seemed momentarily confused by the question and asked Hux to clarify. "I am not sure of your meaning.”

Hux's gaze met the droids, his voice carrying a tinge of concern and hesitancy. "Are there any potential long-term effects on our physical or mental well-being caused by exposure to the Pax Reaver?"

The droid processed the inquiry for a moment, its metallic form calculating data. After a brief pause, it delivered its response. "According to our analysis, neither of you show any signs of exposure to the Pax Reaver. There are no indications of lasting effects related to that particular substance."

As the droid left the room, a profound silence settled between Hux and Sola. They sat in contemplation, their eyes occasionally meeting before quickly diverting away. Sola, feeling a mix of emotions, including embarrassment, avoided Hux's gaze.

Suddenly, a soft chuckle escaped Hux's lips, a sound that grew in intensity until he was fully overcome by rolling laughter. His unrestrained amusement filled the room, a release of tension brought on by the sheer absurdity of the situation. Sola remained silent, still trying to process the information that neither of them had been under the effects of the Pax Reaver, and that their encounter in the cave had been consensual. Just sex.

Neither of them uttered a word to the other, Sola got to her feet and quickly walked out of the medical bay at a brisk pace albeit a bit unsteady. Hux followed a moment later, delayed slightly by his inability to stop laughing. He called out for her to wait and urged her to talk to him. 

“Sola, wait!” 

~~~

Finally, within the confines of their quarters, Hux caught up with Sola, suddenly feeling quite a bit better. He leaned against the doorway, watching her pace with restless energy. Amusement danced in his eyes as he observed, her usual cool and detached demeanor now replaced with agitation and what he interpreted as downright embarrassment. 

Hux couldn't contain his laughter any longer and chuckled softly. "You know, Sola, I've never seen you so rattled before. It's quite amusing," he remarked, his tone laced with hilarity.

She snapped back, her tone laced with frustration, 

“What exactly is so damn funny?” 

Hux stood with his arms folded across his chest, still finding the situation beyond entertaining. “All of it. The sheer absurdity of it.” Sola’s state was hard and unyielding. “Oh, come on, Sola. You have to admit it's hilarious.”

“I fail to see the humor in almost dying multiple times.” Her tone was sharp but he just couldn’t help it.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, not bothering to hide his mirth, and responded, "Oh, it's hilarious. But trust me, it's not half as amusing as your adorable embarrassment.” Sola's face flushed, and she instinctively hid behind her hair, insisting that she wasn't embarrassed. Hux's laughter continued, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Sola," he said, teasingly. "You're blushing like a starlit sky."

Sola simply shook her head as though her understanding of everything that had happened simply didn’t make sense. But it really was that simple. Hux had somehow come to the conclusion that she was under the influence of the Pax. She thought he was under the same influence. But neither of them were. Nothing morally gray had happened, and neither of them was in any danger from the other. 

Something still felt like it was missing though. Why would he think she was affected? She wasn’t the idiot who took her mask off in the middle of the jungle. 

Unable to contain her restless energy, Sola continued to pace, her movements becoming a source of frustration for Hux. Unable to bear it any longer, he reached out and physically stopped her from pacing, gently but firmly holding her by the shoulders. "Enough, Sola," he insisted, his voice filled with playfulness and exasperation. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor at this rate. Just stand still for a moment and talk to me." He tilted his head slightly and asked, "What are you so upset about?" 

Sola's expression turned indignant as she stuttered slightly “I’m not upset.” She insisted, throwing her hands up, thus throwing his grip off.

Hux raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "Oh, no, of course not. You're clearly just giddy with laughter." 

“I’m confused.” She explained. “Why would you think that Pax had affected me?”

Hux straightened up, placing his hands on his hips and giving her an incredulous look. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You really don't understand why I thought you were affected by the Pax?

“No, I really don’t.” Her frustration was evident so Hux suppressed his smirk. 

Hux closed the distance between them, his face a mix of confusion and realization. "Sola, you crawled across a cave floor, looking at me like you wanted to eat me," he explained, his tone very matter-of-fact. “You sat in my lap and shoved your tongue down my throat.”

Sola's eyes widened as she processed how her actions must have appeared. She opened her mouth to respond but then hesitated, realizing that Hux might not fully understand her perspective. In that sense, yeah she could understand it and it might have even been funny. But the reality of it was a bit more… complicated.

"Hux, I woke up to your scream. You were in pain, and I thought you were heading towards an aggressive response. I was trying to sway you away from potential violence until I could sedate you and get help," she explained, her voice carrying a hint of urgency.

A wave of understanding washed over Hux's face as he finally grasped Sola's intentions. He nodded slowly, his expression shifting from amusement to a more serious demeanor. "I see," he murmured, his voice tinged with empathy. "That does make more sense." He paused and added trying to keep things light, “So it wasn’t my charm that had you swooning?”

Sola couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, the tension in the room easing slightly. "Well, I suppose I should have come up with a better plan than... that," she replied, her voice holding a touch of self-deprecating humor. "But in the heat of the moment, it seemed like the only option."

Hux's lips curled into a small smile, appreciating Sola's ability to find humor in the situation. "So you tried to distract me from anger... with sex?" he quipped, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Sola raised an eyebrow, “It seemed to work, didn't it?" she replied, her tone lightening up. 

The tension between them eased further as they both recognized the misunderstanding and found common ground. They shared a moment of shared amusement, the gravity of the situation momentarily set aside.

Hux and Sola's perspectives had swapped. Hux had initially found amusement in the absurdity of the situation, while Sola had been serious and focused on their safety. Now, Hux adopted a more serious tone, understanding the gravity of Sola's actions, while Sola found humor in the unexpected turn of events.

Sola scoffed, her frustration still evident as she turned away from Hux, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "There's something we haven't addressed," she said, her voice slightly strained.

Hux furrowed his brow, concerned by the tension in her voice. "What is it?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

Sola turned to face him, her gaze steady but guarded. "You said some things back there before it all went to hell," she stated, her tone laced with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Hux's expression softened as he remembered the confession he had made in the jungle. "I meant every word," he admitted, his voice gentle. "I know it was an ill-timed revelation, and I put us in danger with my actions." He looked at the ground, “I just needed you to know what happened.”

Sola's eyes widened slightly, surprised by his sincerity. She had expected defensiveness or justification, but Hux's genuine remorse caught her off guard. She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "You never did tell me what happened back there," 

The room fell into a brief silence, the weight of their unspoken words hanging in the air. Hux met Sola's gaze, a mix of regret and determination in his eyes, as he prepared to reveal the truth behind his sudden change in behavior.

Hux took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he began to explain the reasoning behind his sudden change in behavior. "Sola, that morning, I discovered my mask had sustained damage to one of the seals," he started, his voice tinged with a mixture of regret and vulnerability.

Sola's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth slightly agape as she absorbed his words. She had expected an explanation, but the revelation of the cracked o-ring caught her completely off guard. She remained silent, allowing Hux to continue.

Hux continued, his voice steady but filled with remorse. "I discovered the cracked o-ring just before we left, and panic took over. I couldn't be certain if the mask was compromised, and I didn't want to place you in danger unnecessarily, but we couldn’t split up. It seemed like the best course of action was to carry on with the mission and not burden you with my fears until there was a clear reason to do so."

Sola listened attentively, her eyes locked on Hux as he shared the truth behind his actions. A mix of emotions flickered across her face—surprise, understanding, and a hint of hurt. She had no idea that he had been carrying such a burden, and the weight of his words left her momentarily speechless.

Hux's gaze remained fixed on Sola, his expression a mixture of regret and sincerity. He continued, "I wanted to keep you at arm's length to ensure your safety, or at least give you time to react if things went… badly. It wasn't easy for me, but I felt that splitting up wasn't an option, and I couldn't risk jeopardizing our mission or your well-being."

As Hux finished explaining, Sola struggled to find words to respond, her mind still processing the revelation. The depth of Hux's concern and his willingness to prioritize her safety left her both moved and conflicted.

As the seconds stretched on in silence, Hux interpreted Sola's initial reaction as a surprise, his brow furrowing with a mix of confusion and concern. However, the shift in her expression was unmistakable. Her narrowed eyes and clenched fists betrayed her growing anger, and she approached him slowly, her steps deliberate and filled with pent-up frustration.

"You pushed me away like that for my benefit?" Sola's voice was laced with anger, her tone biting and accusatory. Hux could only nod in confirmation, realizing the gravity of his actions and how foolish they seemed in hindsight.

But before he could fully comprehend the weight of his mistake, Sola reared back and delivered a powerful punch to his jaw. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through Hux's face, causing him to stagger backward, his hand instinctively reaching to grip his throbbing jaw.

"What the hell is this?" Hux's outrage mixed with a hint of confusion as he tried to make sense of Sola's furious assault. The pain in his jaw was secondary to the sudden surge of emotions welling up within him.

Sola's anger radiated from her as she continued to strike at him, her punches landing on his shoulder, arm, and stomach. Though the blows were weaker with each subsequent hit, they still carried the force of her frustration. Each strike seemed to drive her point home, fueling her rage.

"You're an idiot!" Sola's voice quivered with a mix of anger and hurt, her words laced with a raw vulnerability. "You made me think you were going to cut me loose and save your own skin! You made me think, even for a second, that you weren't the man I know you are! You made me doubt everything I felt about you and every good thing you've ever done!"

Her voice cracked with a hint of anguish, and Hux could sense the deeper pain beneath her anger. Sola's words echoed in his mind, and he understood the gravity of his actions. The realization washed over him, washing away his own indignation and leaving behind a profound sense of remorse.

"You made me sleep alone!" Sola's voice wavered, she seemed particularly upset about that one. her anger momentarily giving way to a raw vulnerability. The weight of that statement hung in the air, emphasizing the depth of her hurt.

Driven by a mixture of regret and concern, Hux moved swiftly, gently grabbing hold of Sola's wrists to stop her assault. His grip was firm as he guided her movements to a halt. With her back against the wall, he pulled her closer, enveloping her in a protective embrace, his own anger dissipating in the face of her pain.

Hux maintained his tight grip on Sola, preventing her from continuing her assault, but she persisted in her attempts to wrench free, her anger still evident in her struggle. Frustrated, he finally implored her to stop, his voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and understanding.

"Sola, you've made your point," Hux said firmly, his grip firm yet non-threatening. "Will you stop hitting me?"

Sola snapped back with a biting retort, reminding him of his own words. "I seem to remember something about you telling me to hit you until my arms got weak." Her tone dripped with a hint of resentment, and Hux's regret deepened at his ill-conceived choice of words.

He sighed inwardly, realizing that allowing her to continue her assault, within limits, might be a necessary act of catharsis for her. "Fine," he relented, his voice laced with a mix of resignation and remorse. "If it makes you feel better, keep hitting me. Although I must say, you need to work on your form."

Sola's struggle against him gradually ceased, her anger momentarily subsiding. Hux observed her closely, taking in the redness and slight glassiness in her eyes.

Her words took Hux by surprise, resonating with an unexpected depth. "The next time you watch my back, tell me so that I can watch yours." Her voice quivered with anger and a newfound understanding. It was a sentiment he had not anticipated, a glimpse of reciprocity in the midst of their conflict.

Hux's eyes widened in astonishment, his expression softening. He hadn't expected her to comprehend his intentions, however flawed they may have been, nor did he anticipate her willingness to reciprocate the sentiment. 

Sola turned away sharply from Hux, her hand running through her hair in a display of frustration. Her anger was palpable, but underneath it, Hux could sense the hurt that lingered. She muttered under her breath, unable to hide her disappointment. "I can't believe you didn't trust me enough to tell me..."

Hux nodded, his expression filled with remorse. "You're right," he admitted, his voice tinged with self-reproach. "I should have trusted you enough to confide in you. I was- am- an idiot."

He reached out to her, hoping to bridge the growing distance between them, but she jerked away, her pride not yet ready to let go of the anger. Hux understood her reluctance to forgive him so easily and decided on a more direct approach. He firmly pulled her back into his arms, meeting her resistance for a moment before she gradually slowed her struggle. It was then that he offered her a genuine apology, his voice full of sincerity.

"I'm sorry, Sola," he said softly, his gaze focused on her. "I never wanted to hurt you. I should have trusted you and let you in, even if the timing was less than ideal."

Sola remained quiet, the tension slowly dissipating from her body as Hux held her. He broke the silence with a question, gently probing for her thoughts. "Do you still want to punch me?" he asked, half expecting a renewed outburst.

To his surprise, Sola shook her head. "No," she responded, her voice softened.

Hux continued his inquiries, needing reassurance. "Do you hate me?"

Again, Sola's answer was a resolute "No."

Hux took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers. "Do you wish I hadn't said anything? About all of it?"

Sola pulled back slightly, her gaze downcast. "You could have picked a better time," she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration.

Hux countered gently, his tone filled with apathy. "You didn't exactly give me much of a choice," he pointed out.

Sola's gaze flickered up to meet him, acknowledging his point. She realized that her own impulsive reactions had played a role in the chaotic events that unfolded. There was a glimmer of understanding between them, a shared recognition of their mutual culpability.

As Sola's arms found their way around Hux, a sense of relief washed over him. He welcomed her tentative embrace, feeling a renewed connection between them. He exhaled softly. 

"What in the hell is wrong with us?" she asked, her voice laden with confusion.

Hux chuckled and shrugged playfully. "I think all couples have their little problems," he responded, his tone lightening the mood. He sensed Sola's exhale of breath, a weak laugh escaping her lips. He called them a couple.

“What happened between us wasn't what I had in mind for our first time," he confessed, a hint of longing in his voice, "but I don't regret it."

Sola pulled back slightly, looking at him incredulously. "You thought there was going to be a first time?" 

Hux shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "I was working up to something," he explained, "and I did mention that I preferred a slower, more romantic pace."

"You move too slowly." 

Hux raised an eyebrow, accepting her challenge. "Well, slower can be quite a bit more enjoyable," he countered, his voice laced with suggestion. "I’m more than willing to show you what I had in mind.”

Sola's anger and hurt continued to dissipate, replaced by the familiar spark of the Sola that Hux knew so well. He was doing it again, being ruggedly charming and that voice of his made her forget how angry she was.

“Did you strand us there just to set a romantic mood to get laid?" she asked her tone both teasing and challenging.

Hux vehemently shook his head, his expression earnest and adamant. "No, absolutely not," he insisted, his voice carrying a hint of indignation. "If I were ever going to do something that stupid, I would have stranded us someplace far colder, so that you would need my body heat to stay warm."

They drifted a little closer as Hux delivered his response, the hint of a playful smile tugging at his lips..

"That's a cliché,"

Hux chuckled softly, his gaze fixed on her. "Clichés are clichés for a reason,"

He hesitated for a moment, then leaned down to kiss her and was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t slap, kick, punch, or push him away. It wasn’t like the kiss they shared on the island. It was slow, sensual, and dizzying in its intensity, she could smell him and taste him, feel the warmth of his arms and the subtle rise nad fall of his chest, and hear his breathing. When Hux pulled away, he left a space for Sola to voice her objections or desires. His amusement flickered in his eyes as he observed her slightly breathless state. "Still think I move too slowly?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I didn't think you were such a tease,"

Hux leaned in for another kiss, the intensity between them building with each passing moment. As he pulled away once again, a confident smirk graced his features. "You have no idea what you're in for," he informed her, his voice low and husky.

Sola's lips curved into a mischievous smile against Hux's mouth. Her head felt light, her senses overwhelmed by the connection they shared. When they finally broke apart, she playfully remarked, "You're lucky you're so damn good-looking. It's the only thing stopping me from rightfully kicking your ass for that stunt you pulled in the jungle."

Hux chuckled, his gaze locked with hers as he backed her gently toward the bed. His hands found their way to her waist, a touch both possessive and tender. "I look forward to the challenge," he replied, his voice thick with desire. "But until then, I'll just have to distract you."

Eh, no the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written but it was still fun. Maybe someday I’ll write a legit sex pollen story. Whatever another WIP bites the dust and now onto the next one!

[alias-mike]

thanks @spiritcaesar for tagging me in "list five topics you can talk about for an hour without preparing any material"!!

genshin impact fanfiction. this might be too broad but im gonna count it bc i have read so many good fics that have changed my brain chemistry and i will dissect every single one of them for you

dream smp. unfortunately. tbh this would just be reminicsing about the fun ive had in like 2020-2022 in the fandom. the hype, the lore, the fan reactions. i would probably also go on a technoblade tangent

nine aetharia. i got into their music in 2019 because of the good omens fandom and have stuck with their channel ever since. i know every song they have posted there since then, including deleted videos and changed lyrics. ive analyzed every song and know as much lore about them and the behind the scenes stuff as possible. honestly i should probably calm down bc this is almost getting stalkerish but im kind and respectful and too scared to talk to the creator so its. probably fine ahahaha

cytus 2 but not the whole thing. like i can tell you random character facts but forget whole chunks of the actual story. i still remember enough lore to talk for an hour tho

LOLITA FASHION. HOW DID I FORGET ABOUT THIS UNTIL NOW. i will explain everything and just. go off about different outfits people have put together. and ones i want to make. and different brand releases and my thoughts and opinions about them. someone please let me talk about lolita for an hour uninterrupted

honourable mention goes to fear and hunger, i like it a lot but dont know enough lore/havent played it enough (im bad at the game) to confidently talk about it for so long. same goes for honkai lore, ive only played honkai 3rd up to thus spoke apocalypse before getting busy and losing interest (just from not playing it for a while). i would probably still be able to talk abt them for a while tho lol

anyone who sees this is free to do it as well !!!!

[klia29]

sister?/brother/sibling an platonic Alastor x sister?brother?sibling reader

hi this is my first Fanfiction so i hope you like this

warnings: death, murder, change of story line, abuse, suicide, and hazbin hotel

i hope that if you do like this please dont read this

thanks to my potato bff for help with everything🫠(Including this sentence)(and that one)

lets get in to it 😃

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and your older brother Alastor have always been close. he was like your best friend. the whole reason you two were close was because Alastor would always try and protect you from the abuse, but that never really did anything because well after he would pass out from the pain, your dad would move on to you till he passed out drunk.

when Alastor was old enough too move out he had to leave you with your dad and it was heart breaking to see him leave. but he would always let you in if your dad decided to kick you out of the house or if you needed somewhere to stay. it was always hard for you to talk to people . he was the best thing that happen to you he was your best friend. you two needed each other he was your heaven.

with your brother gone you had no one. your dad was able to get to you so easy with out your brother in the way. so the pain was so much worse.

because it was 1800-1900, abuse was normal and often overlooked. it made your blood boil. now how did you find out your brother was a killer?

you had been kicked out by your dad, so you went to your brothers house to see the most traumatising scene of him murdering someone there was blood and organs everywhere and you look at your brother scared because, he had seen you. you knew. you knew that you would never tell anyone about this, so you showed that by helping him hid the body.

and then you started to help him kill and murder. all you did was lure them to there death. that's how the iconic duo did it but your dad soon stopped allowing you to go to your brothers.

his death hit you like bricks

you missed him and decided that 1 year later after his death you would do suicide. so that's how you got into hell.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 90 years later ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Brought to you by Angel making sex jokes 😃)

You saw him sometimes walking around town-well hell. but when you saw Alastor you didn't recognise him.

one day you saw a poster for the hazbin hotel. it said its all about "Redemption." you called bullshit on that, because well heaven would never allow that to happen have demons come to heaven. like that would ever happen. heaven was so Strict they would never let them in.

"fuck it lets just go check it out or whatever."

you go to the hotel and knock on the door. you hear some talking then a girl open the door she was about 5'6. well you think. compared to the 6'8 or something beast next to her. one of them(the one 5'6) look like she was ready to kill you, the 6'8 one was as happy as a child eating her Favourite candy.

the short and angry one had very long and she had an x on her left eye. the other one at like 6'8 was so happy and looked like she thought that brown cow made chocolate milk and that the world was sunshine an rainbows. she looked like she needed a realty check, and fast.

"um who are you?" the girl with the x one her left eye said

"Vagggiiiieeee be nice to our new guest"

so Vaggie was her name.

"Charlie they might be an intruder. i'm just looking out for you babe"

"yeess but they might want to be Redeemed"

as you watched the two bicker over you. you Sneaked past them into this hazbin hotel. you look around.

you saw the bartender and went over.

"hi can i get a (alcohol) drink. please thanks"

" sure whatever"

while he made your drink a guy in a pink striped suit came out .

"And who's this Cutie? damn you are gorgeous! I want to see what's under those clothes"

"Ew- no thanks um please leave me alone and don't touch me"

he proceeds to try and hold your face

"the fuck? what part of don’t touch me did you not understand"

"come on gorgeous lets head up to my room!"

he said biting his lip in a sexual manner.

"come on doll."

"no"

"leave them alone angel" the bartender said.

"here's your drink"

"ok so your name is angel?"

"yep doll"

"well its not very fitting for someone like you"

"awww but my full name is angel dust"

"never mind"

"why are you so mean doll"

"stop calling me doll my name is {y/n}"

"what a pretty name doll"

"your not going to stop are you?"

"nope"

"great"

after you finished your drink charlie and vaggie came in the room

"oh hey you guys are charalie and vagina right?"

"um no its charlie and vaggie" vaggie said

"oh sorry not sorry"

"this is my kind of person" husk said

soon alastor came out.

"fucking- finally alastor took you long enough"

that name theres no way no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no it can’t be him. you can see him. there’s no way it just cant be no no no no no no. you start to hyperventilate falling off your chair, you start to mumble to your self as you slowly start to cry. you knew it was hell but you you didnt know.

every one was staring at you specifically alastor was. he was very confused why you were scared of him just by his name

"no no no no no it cant be he died. but im dead. its been 90 years no. no no no no no no no no."

after you calmed down thanks to husks help the questions started well mostly from charlie

when you were able to stand up you walk to alastor and look in his eyes.

"is it really you al?"

you say looking in his eyes

"{y-y/n}?!?!"

"yeah its me al!"

alastor Hugged you tightly

"i missed you so much al!"

"me too {y/n}"

"do you want me to show you around?"

"no need"

"why?"

"I've been here a while"

"how long?"

"90 years!"

"wait you were only 18 when i died how old were you when you died"

"19?"

"HOW"

"i may or may not have Committed suicide"

"{Y/N}!"

"ahh sorry"

[badass-at-fandoming]

Day 1: Mafia AU

Hey @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady, I also want to meet this challenge!

For the Mafia AU prompt, I pondered who would fit well into an organized crime alternate universe. Mid-ponder, my phone pinged and reminded me to play Dazai's route in Ikemen Vampire. This ping also reminded me that somebody has already put Dazai in a mafia AU. So here's a redraw of a Bungo Stray Dogs screenshot, with Ikemen Vampire's rendition of Dazai. Here is the anime screenshot:

To make it like, related to love, below the Read More is a snippet from my fanfiction. This fanfic is more like a personal bonsai project than one for a03. Unless someone really wants a Nakahara Chūya/Dazai Osamu mpreg. For those unfamiliar with Bungo Stray Dogs, Dazai was a teenage soldier in an organized crime syndicate called the Port Mafia. Chūya was from a different gang, the Sheep, until Dazai recruited him into the Port Mafia. Dazai recruited Chūya for incredibly practical reasons and NOT because he wanted Chūya to himself. Evidence: the above screenshot of Dazai looking at other people paying Chūya attention with definitely no jealously or contempt. In the fic, Dazai is a trans man, Chūya unknowingly impregnantes him, and Dazai goes into hiding to have the baby, Fumiya. Dazai is currently raising Fumiya on his own.

The nurses said it was good to talk to babies, and Dazai is surprised how good it feels to talk. “Let me tell you about your father, Fumiya.”

Dazai places the tiny fedora on Fumiya’s tiny head. It fits, sort of. “Once upon a time, there was a young god. It did nothing but contemplate its navel all day. Like this.” Dazai pokes Fumiya’s belly button through his brown dress. Fumiya’s face scrunches, like he’s thinking deeply about the story, or belly buttons, or maybe why Dazai’s face is like that.

“In fact, there was no day or night for it. Very boring. No stars. No moon. Only a single room with no books or blankets or delivery meals. But the godling didn’t need to eat so it was okay.

“One day—or night—a yellow hand reached out, grabbed the godling, and yanked him into the human world. The yellow hand put the god into a child’s stomach, so the god would have a body. The body looked just like you. Same red hair. The ‘it’ became ‘he.’ You can do that too, Fumiya. Don’t have to be ‘he’ forever,” Dazai explains.

“The god was raised by wolves who wore sheepskin. They taught him to walk, to eat, to read, to write. I can’t tell if the god knew about their hidden sharp teeth. He recognized them as mortals, and he knew he was a god. According to the stories, gods are meant to care for mortals. He protected them, they thanked him, and he thought that was good enough. It wasn’t until he met the boy with no face that he realized the wolves were worshiping all wrong.”

Dazai smooths the back of his finger down Fumiya’s cheek. “Worshipers are supposed to love, and to fear. These wolves were gluttonous. They had a god on their side and feared nothing. They took advantage of the god’s kindness and betrayed him when convenient.

“The No-face boy might have helped it along, but it didn’t matter to him. What mattered is he’d met a god. I call him ‘no face’ because he had a face, but had forgotten how to use it. He didn’t have the energy to smile or laugh or cry. Inside, he was numb. He possessed the basic animal aversion to pain, but that was his single preference. He didn’t care if he lived or died. He reminded the god of home, of the emptiness without night or day.

“The god knew the emptiness was boring as all hell. Compared to the brightness and variety of the human world, the emptiness was hell. Far better to annoy and pick fights with the no-face boy. The no-face boy liked picking fights back, so they had a good relationship. Slowly, the boy regained use of his face.

“The god granted the boy benevolence. He granted the best seat in the house for witnessing the line between life and death. Adrenaline and beauty were the god’s provenance. In exchange, the boy worshiped the god in the proper manner. When Mori-san assigned Chūya to Kōyō-san’s mentorship, I saw red, Fumiya. Chūya was meant to be mine, and no one else’s. I yelled and stamped my feet—like a child’s tantrum. In revenge for separating us, I separated Chūya from Mori-san. I made sure they were never alone. I protected Chūya from mortals’ schemes. Chūya made me not want to die. He’s everything I’m not, and opposites need each other to exist.”

Dazai clears his throat. “Apologies. I was telling a story.”

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

who's your fave BSD character and why?

what's your fave work of fiction?

Oppenheimer or Barbie?

Do you write OG stories too?

In your fanfictions, would you rather write fluff or angst?

do you have a best friend?

when writing, do you focus on plot first or characters first?

also how do you do such good analyses on characters with barely any screentime JFIRGR is that like a psych major thing? hehe anyways..

laast question: do you have a pet? TT and what's one problem (external or internal) that you want to fix in your life?

(lmao those are two last questions but uhm, yeah.)

(sorry for the rambles, im just bored and rlly curious TT)

Oh hello! It’s cool I don’t mind!

Favourite BSD character: This is really tricky because every time I think I have a favourite I remember something really cool about another character… I don’t think there’s a single character who I don’t find interesting. In terms of writing I really like Kyouka, Mushitarou, and Akutagawa. Atsushi I would actually hang out with and I am prepared to defend as an excellent protagonist. I also really like Yosano, Chuuya, Teruko, Ranpo, and Odasaku! Also my extremely overlooked fave is H. G. Wells from 55 Minutes… I love her so much she’s so cool…

Favourite work of fiction: Hmm… you know I’m honestly not sure I could pick a favourite. I’ve read a lot of stuff and watched a lot of things… however for the purposes of this blog I have been overrun by Trigun emotions and Hatoful Boyfriend had a death grip on me for most of high school.

Barbenheimer: Probably I’ll go see Barbie at some point. I actually don’t watch a lot of movies but this one seems pretty cool!

Do you write OG stories: Ohh how do I answer this…? Yes 100%. I have so many original plots in my head, and I have tried to write them several times. I have one ongoing right now on my side blog called The Capture of Light… I’ve been very slow to update but it’s there. My oldest story that I’ve been working on is a series called the Interworld… I’ve been working on it and revising it since I was 13. I worry it’s too needlessly convoluted though. The problem is that I’m never satisfied so I keep scrapping and restarting it… so can I really say I write them? :/

Fluff or angst: Angst all the way. I like to write suffering, but I generally will write in a bittersweet hopeful ending. :) Depends on what’s tonally appropriate though.

Best friend: Yes I do have a best friend! I’ve known her for 9 years now. She’s actually on here; her account is @doodle-storm. She doesn’t update a lot but I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you checked out her art or said hi. :)

Plot or characters first: I make a rough plot outline with key points I have to get to, then I make detailed character notes and designs. The way I see it, the best way to make sure your plot stays cohesive is to make sure you know your character’s motives at all times. That way, even if the plot winds up changing a bit, I still have a good idea of how the characters will react, no matter what situation I put them into. If I can transplant them into any random scene or situation and know how they’ll respond, I feel comfortable that I know them well enough to write.

Analyses: Hahaha, honestly the psych knowledge helps but… I think that might just be me. I’ve kind of always done stuff like this it’s just now I have people who actually read it instead of telling me to shut up ehehe. I think the key is to isolate the main themes of the story. A good story will have its characters all model or echo these themes in some way. From there, it’s a lot easier to read character motivations, even if they don’t have a lot of screen time. Another important thing to remember is “explanation not justification”. You should be able to explain the motive behind a character’s actions. This does not mean they’re justified. This really helps with analyzing villains or morally grey characters. It also helps you to understand people in real life!

Pets: None unfortunately. 😞 If I weren’t allergic to cats I would have a cat though. I love cats. They also tend to headbutt my legs a lot so I think they tend to like me too. I have to resist the urge to pet them every time. …I fail. Every time. I go home and sneeze for two hours with itchy eyes. It was worth it.

Problem I wish I could fix in my life: Well I have some mental health problems so I guess I wish I could. Not have those. Yeah. I’m looking for support about it. I’m trying. Hehe.

This was fun! Thank you! Can I shoot some of these questions back at you? I’d love to hear your answers! :D

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

word count: 3.7k

ao3 | wattpad

Chapter 20: Gravity

Joel

On one of my first assignments as a rookie, the diplomat placed in our care was ambushed during a rather standard procedure, driving him from one checkpoint to another. Gunfire rang out around us, and dust clouded our vision. My heartbeat was so loud, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to hear when the assailant approached us. There was a moment where I was dragging the client to safety, as fear left him nearly paralyzed.

During training camp, when I was only twenty years old, our crew became lost. I thought that they must know where we were, but as we began to starve, I thought otherwise. Members of our squadron were restless, some begging to be released from the program. But there were no officers around to hear them and grant them a discharge. There was no way for us to get back. It went on for almost two weeks before they finally found us.

That is why, with over a decade of harrowing experiences under my belt, I can say with absolute certainty that last night was the biggest test of willpower I have ever had.

People tend to make rash decisions when they’re under the influence of adrenaline. My experience has taught me that as well, time and time again. But in true Gwen fashion, everything about last night was completely unexpected.

I’m just glad you’re alright.

I had seen how Gwen was with her friends, her coworkers, and everyone she interacted with who wasn’t her father, or someone on the board. She was kind, genuine, and occasionally maybe even a little soft. Even still, never did I think that would be her reasoning for kissing me the way she did.

Especially not after I almost yelled at her in her apartment. My fear fused with frustration too soon. I was furious with her for leaving, and the image of her standing there, armed with a piece of decor in her silky pajamas, only made me more angry. Not at her, but at whoever keeps toying with her. I should have known she wouldn’t listen, but knowing that she only came out like that because she was afraid for me? That fueled my anger for this stalker into a full blown rage.

But the look in those eyes when she asked me to stay…

There would never be an answer other than yes. Or, always. Of course. However long you may want me.

She seemed scared, but with a woman that stubborn, I know that if she seems scared, she is terrified.

Instinct had taken over, and I wrapped my arms around her without thinking. But feeling her tremble beneath my hands was more than enough motivation to muster up the appropriate restraint. The temptation only reared its ugly head again when the regret and dejection written all over her face made me want to kiss her senseless. To kiss her everywhere, only stopping to tell her she’s done nothing wrong, that she’s okay. That we both are.

But I did resist it, even when she was unknowingly inching closer to me on the bed. Even as she slept, her hand reached over the covers, coming close enough to me that I was worried my breath would wake her up. I already knew what I felt for Guinevere Russell. I didn’t need a kiss to confirm that. What I hadn’t known was how befuddled her feelings might be, and how guilty I would feel for having to resist her.

She was anxious, wanting to blow off some steam.

I’m just glad you’re alright.

I twist my head again to look at her face, as I have been for the last few hours. Her lips slightly parted, any lines of frustration melted away. She looked so peaceful now. She was beautiful when she was angry, but she is absolutely dazzling when she is at peace. Unbearably so when she laughs. It would be impossible, downright unthinkable, that a woman like her could have any feelings at all for a man like me. Let alone lust or wanting. I wouldn’t even call it lust. It was just confusion. It had to be.

I’m just glad you’re alright.

I twist to my other side, hearing Gwen let out a small noise as I do so. Why had she been thinking of me at all? This was my job. I was here to protect her, regardless of the outcome for me. That had always been the job.

I’m just glad you’re alr—

Enough.

I stand up from the bed and bolt to the bathroom, only slowing long enough to close the door softly. I brace my arms against the sink, flexing my back and shoulders until they’re on the brink of straining.

Checking my watch, it’s 6:50am already. She’ll be waking soon. Last night aside, I’ve never seen Gwen sleep in on a work day. I huff out a long breath and turn the shower on, hoping the water will rid me of hearing her voice, her concern, and the relief I felt on her lips. I stay under the water for an extra five minutes, scrubbing my hands multiple times, though it doesn’t quite erase the memory of holding her waist. It doesn’t seem to rid me of my guilt, either.

My shirt sticks to me even after I dry off, but I don’t have any other options with me. I keep a go-bag in Rodney’s car, so at least I can make arrangements to change soon. I shake my hair in a towel before exiting the bathroom as quietly as I had entered, only to see Gwen sitting straight up in the bed across from me.

Her cheeks were tinted pink with sleep, but her eyes were wary from waking. Or more likely, they were wary from remembering.

“Morning,” she breathes, eyeing me carefully. Even under the covers, she adjusts the robe she fell asleep in to cover her shoulders more.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” I cross the room to pull my phone out of my discarded jacket, mostly so I’d have a reason to look somewhere else. I take the opportunity to text Rod.

“Fine. Do you have the time?”

“It’s 7:10.”

Gwen groans, ripping back the covers immediately. “I have an 8:15 with Julian this morning,” she makes her way toward her bag, opening it up and ripping out the dress laying on top.

“You’re…set on going to work then?” I watch her rush into the bathroom and start to comb through her hair. I’ve watched her exercise, eat, and work, and yet somehow seeing her in a bathrobe, first thing in the morning, brushing her hair, feels like some immense, intimate privilege. It felt like someone I admire allowing me a behind the scenes look into their life. And after last night, I didn’t feel deserving of it.

“Of course I am,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Miss Russell, you’ve been through a lot.”

She doesn’t even take her eyes off of the mirror. “Staying here won’t make that untrue. And I can’t have anyone knowing what happened last night.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” I say softly. “If anyone asks I’ll say that I slept in a guest room.”

This gets her attention, and she looks a bit stunned. “I meant about the broken windows, and the note, especially,” she takes a shallow breath, “What else would I mean?”

You know damn well what you might mean.

“Got it.”

Her eyebrows scrunch down, but she goes back to the mirror, reaching for a toothbrush.

“Rodney delivered my bag downstairs, I’m going to grab it and get changed. I can meet you down there.”

“Oh,” Gwen’s eyes widen, her hand moving to rest on the doorframe. “You’re meeting him outside, or…?”

“No, ma’am, he left the bag downstairs. I’ll just change in the restroom down there.” I speak up a little, wondering if she misheard me the first time.

Gwen halts her movements, the toothbrush in her hand now suspended midair. Even from here, the fear etched into her side profile was glaring.

My heart cracks.

“It will take no time at all. Then I’ll come back up to get you.” I know she won’t ask for it, but she’s clearly not ready to be left alone.

“Okay. Sounds good,” her voice is cheerful, but clipped. I walk out before I make the mistake of asking if she wants to talk about it.

I change quickly into a fresh, dark pair of jeans and the light blue button up Gwen had picked out. I’m glad I thought to put some basics like deodorant, cologne and a toothbrush in the bag as well. When I return upstairs, I try to open the door only to find out it’s locked.

I knock, putting my ear against it.

“Miss Russell?”

A moment later, Gwen opens the door, looking as if she had her entire team style her. The dark circles under her eyes have been covered slightly, and her hair was soft and flowy in big waves. The deep blue dress she has on had to be one of the best things I’ve ever seen her wear, as it complemented her coloring and her curves remarkably well. Or maybe I’m just relieved to see some of the worry has left her face.

“I like that one on you,” she gives me a small smile, breezing past me as if every negative thing that happened last night had simply been a dream.

“Thank you,” my voice is hoarse, and I clear my throat as I trail behind her. When we’re inside the car, it takes me an extra ten minutes to think of how to phrase the next pressing matter.

“We should probably discuss future living arrangements today. I’m not comfortable with the idea of you going back to the apartment. Not until we figure out how they were able to break the windows without triggering the alarm.”

Gwen looks out the window for so long that I’m unsure if she heard me. Then, she whispers, “I’m not going to lose that apartment.”

“It will be temporary, I promise.”

I see her nod out of the corner of my eye. That’s enough about that for now.

I have a talk with the front desk on our way up to the office, letting them know that we will not be accepting any gifts or packages, and that they should be documenting who is trying to drop them off. I tell them that too many public relations offices are trying to get Gwen’s attention, and sending them here is inappropriate. The definitiveness of my voice seems not to raise any suspicion. After I escort Gwen to her meeting with Julian, I call Amari.

“Hey, Joel. How’s she doing?”

I take a few steps further into the hallway, making sure no one is around to hear me. “She’s shaken up, but she’ll be okay. Any news?”

“It’s news but it’s not good news, I’m afraid. Still no fingerprints. We’re guessing the rope helped someone lob them through the windows, and we’re still trying to figure out how they did it. Best guess is that it came from the high-rise next door, but we’ve contacted the owner and they’ve been doing repairs to almost half of the floors. It’s unlikely that anyone had access to the building during those hours, but not unthinkable. Especially if they were trespassing. We’re still looking into that possibility.”

“The strength to make it across the alleyway like that feels like more than a one-man job. And to make it into the correct apartment, no less.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, too. I have three of the guys scouting out that high-rise today, I can let you know if I hear of anything else.”

“Yeah, okay. Any idea on how they got past the alarm?”

“That’s the part I’m actually most concerned about…I can’t confirm it, but I think someone may have cut the power.”

“I chose the system myself. It doesn't matter if the power is cut, it’s hardwired. There’s also a backup battery that lasts at least three days.”

Amari is quiet for a moment. “I’ll have to check with the building staff. If that’s the case, it means someone cut the line from the inside.”

A shiver of regret and fear runs down my back. He’s right. He’s right and I hadn’t even considered it.

“Amari, if that is true—”

“We’re dealing with a highly knowledgeable, possibly highly trained, stalker, yes.”

“And it could be more than one person. And they’ve gained entry into a private sector of the building.”

“Yes.”

I lean my head back against the wall, silently cursing under my breath. “If the hardwiring was cut along with the power, they were in the building. So why then bother sending something through the window if they’re already inside?”

“That’s what I want to know. On top of how they got in the building in the first place.”

“Keep me posted. Thanks, Amari.”

“No problem. Also, Joel, this is just a theory, but it’s also possible they know she has a team with her in the building. Otherwise…I don’t see what would have stopped them from coming inside again last night.”

Again, my spine stiffens. I had known that I’m Gwen’s first line of defense this entire time. I hadn’t known how prevalent that threat may be, and just how invested I would become.

- - -

If Gwen had more energy, I know she would have groaned when I insisted she follow me into the kitchen after work. Though I did get a small gleam of pride when her face brightened once she saw the bowls. I had texted Melissa to prepare whatever comfort food Gwen used to ask for, and apparently that was French onion soup. It smells amazing, and Gwen closes her eyes to take in a long whiff.

“Thank you,” she says sincerely.

“Melissa made it.”

Gwen rolls her eyes, picking up her spoon. “I figured. But thank you for thinking of that.”

The soup tastes even better than it smells. Gwen had worked through lunch, refusing to come out of her office unless she had another meeting to attend. I imagine work is another form of distraction, just like last night. I try to push that image out of my head as I rip off a piece of bread from the baguette between us.

“Okay, what is it?” Gwen sighs, dusting her hands off on one another.

“Hmm?” I raise my eyebrows, mouth full of food.

“You keep giving me this look like you want to say something.”

It’s a bit uncomfortable how long it takes me to finish swallowing before I can answer her. “I spoke with Amari today, and I want to keep you updated like we talked about. I just wasn’t sure if now is a good time.”

“Ah,” Gwen gets up, making her way to the wine fridge before getting out two glasses. She lifts one to me, but I just shake my head. She pours herself a glass before returning to say, “Now it’s a good time.”

I tell her about Amari’s phone call, almost word for word. She whispers something in the middle of it.

“What was that?”

“The oven. The time was wrong. I remember seeing it, being surprised that it was only midnight.”

“It read twelve o'clock…like it needed to be reset.”

“From a power outage.”

“Right…dammit.” I take a long swig of water before I realize what I’ve said. Another small chip away at my professionalism. I peek over at Gwen, but she’s smirking.

“See? That had some twang.”

I chuckle, shaking my head at the floor.

“I have to say though, why would they care enough to cut the power? Throwing a brick through someone’s window is just as loud as an alarm. And if they knew about the alarm beforehand, they were willing to risk breaking into the building…but not my unit? There was going to be a noise either way, why would it matter?” She swirls her wine around in her glass in time with her contemplation.

“I agree. The other thing Amari mentioned is that they might have known you had security in the building with you. It could have deterred them from entering. I know your father doesn’t return for another week, but I would propose we find you a rental in the meantime if you don’t wish to stay here for the foreseeable future. And we should sign for it in another name.”

Gwen nods, chewing on the inside of her cheek, avoiding my eyes.

“That makes sense,” she picks at her non-existent cuticles. “Mr. Miller…knowing that, how your presence might have helped, only makes me more sorry for—”

“Isn’t this cozy?”

I stand, startled, blocking Gwen from view, only to see Daniel leaning against the doorframe. Unfortunately, this show of mine only makes him laugh.

“Easy, guard dog.” He saunters over to the other side of the counter so he can get a better look at us both.

“Guard dog? He has more of a right to be here than you do, stray.” Gwen glares at him, bringing me a lick of excitement.

“Oh, sorry,” Daniel says as if he lightly grazed someone’s arm by accident. He then grabs the extra glass, and pours a serving of whatever red Gwen is drinking. “Gwenny, what are you doing here anyway?”

“What am I doing in my childhood home? I could ask the same of you.”

“Your father needs something he left in the study. I’m supposed to scan it to him.” He eyes our bowls, “Are you staying over?”

His voice makes nails on a chalkboard sound like a quartet of soft harps. Why would a meal mean we were staying here?

“If it will stop your pestering, I’m redecorating. The smell of wallpaper was giving me a migraine.”

Daniel eyes her over the rim of his glass. “Ah…so you came to the most tranquil place you could think of.”

“I don’t know the meaning of that word when you’re around.”

The two of them stare daggers at each other, and I try not to make my distaste too obvious. Daniel might not have known what Gwen went through in the past twenty four hours, but this seemed to be his M.O. No matter the day, he wants to bury himself under her skin. And it was starting to make mine crawl.

“I think we’re done here,” I get up, taking Gwen’s bowl and stacking it on top of mine before carrying them over to the sink.

“Wow, look at that! He’s so well-trained.” Daniel laughs to himself, taking another sip. If it wasn’t decided before, I have decided now.

I walk over to Daniel, forgoing the option to return to Gwen’s side of the island, and I keep walking even when we are uncomfortably close. Even as I tower over him, and his back bumps against the counter, making his scared eyes grow even wider. I make sure my delivery is slow, controlled, and full of venom.

“Impeccably trained, Mr. Wilson. Perhaps you would give Miss Russell a bit of space tonight, so we won’t be in need of a demonstration.”

Daniel’s face turns beat red, and I can see the anger forming at the center of his pinched face.

“You do know who you’re speaking to, don’t you?” To his credit, he doesn’t fumble any of the words.

“I do,” I smirk down at him, “Do you?”

Daniel opens his mouth. Closes it. He opens it again, looking just as angry as he is scared, and yet nothing comes out.

I smile over at Gwen, whose lips are parted, looking at me like my hair just turned blue. “Are you ready, ma’am?”

“Y–yes.” She hops up from her seat, and again I feel that twinge of excitement. She’ll only stutter when she’s incredibly overwhelmed. It had hurt last night hearing it, knowing that I needed to ease up on her, knowing that she was scared. But now? I see that twinkle in her eye, burning brighter as I address her. I need to keep this ego of mine in check, especially as I guide her out of the kitchen, leaving a flabbergasted Daniel in our wake.

We walk in silence to her bedroom door. Gwen walks right in, dropping her purse on one of the chairs. I follow, but only a few steps inside.

“I’m sorry about him,” she says, “He wasn’t always such a nuisance, but he did always want attention.”

“It’s not your fault,” I lean against the dresser to the left of the door.

“Could you do me a favor, though?”

“Of course.”

“I might need you to come with me to buy him some Depends. He nearly shit himself.”

I laugh, real and guttural. For the first time in a long while, and it makes Gwen giggle in the way that melts every fiber of my being.

I stare at her for a fraction too long, and I end up rubbing the back of my neck for something to do. “Just for clarification, is it alright with you if we find another apartment? A hotel is too risky, there are too many people able to come in and out.”

“You’re asking for my permission? I’m honored.” Clearly the humor hasn’t died out from Gwen’s face. “But yes, that’s fine. I would rather do that than stay here, especially with the…unwanted guests.”

“Understood.”

The air grows thin with the silence that follows, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. I’m worried, though, that she’ll be too proud to ask for it.

“Would it be easier if I stayed here again tonight?”

A small wave of relief rolls over her features. “I think it would. As long as you’re comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable.” I almost said that I’ve never been uncomfortable around her, but that would be a lie. The issue is, I’m not uncomfortable with her, at least not how she exists in reality. I’m very uncomfortable with my thoughts of her, and how infrequent my thoughts of duty and professionalism seem to be.

But when your center of gravity asks you to stay, how do you say no?

Next Chapter

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Masterlist

[sanversandfriends]

Sanvers fans know her from her amazing contributions of art and fic to the Big Bang, but @morganastorm24 is also a multi-talented writer and artist for multiple ships in the DC universe. She also has love of everything Lois Lane. In honor of the Planet's star reporter, we've asked her to share a glimpse into her writing process. Thanks, Morgana!

Tell us a little about yourself. How did you get started writing fic? Have you written for other fandoms? What are your favorite tropes?  

I've been writing for as long as I can remember - even longer according to my mum. I've always loved creating stories and would sit with my teddies and toy horses, reading them stories (even before I could read, because that's what pictures are for, right? Telling a thousand words and all that). For my 6th or 7th birthday, I apparently asked for a "really nice writing set and an even nicer book to write in". I was given a ring binder with plastic pockets, a notebook and a pencil case full of stationery. I still have that ring binder to this day, though it's not filled with all my random childish scribbles like it once was. 

I started writing fanfiction not long after Star Wars: Attack of the Clones came out. That's the earliest fanfic I can remember writing, anyway. I wrote Anakin and Padme's adventures after they got married, and then when rumours started flying about what was going to happen in Episode 3, I wrote my very first "fix it fic" by finding a way to keep Padme alive (as I couldn't bear the thought of my favourite character dying). Most of those very early fics never left the pages of the notebooks they were scrawled in and nobody else ever saw them (thank god!), but it wasn't until I started reading fanfiction online that I realised I could actually do that too - share my ideas with the world. I dabbled a little in fanfic for the tv show Casualty (a British medical drama), had more success with Doctor Who, wrote some more Star Wars, then Merlin and eventually (and most recently) Supergirl (with a dash of other DC). 

What were your inspirations for this particular story? What was it about this/these ships that grabbed you?

This fic was born of a single image - namely Chyler first revealing that she was going to wear a black and blue super suit and become Supergirl for one episode. That image alone was enough to get my mind racing with possibilities and ideas of how it might come to pass. I have to be honest and say I stopped watching the show after the Crisis stuff, so I've never actually seen her episode as Supergirl, but maybe that's a good thing? At least this way I know that my version of her is different and unique.

I am and always will be a huge Sanvers stan, but there's something so appealing about AgentCorp as well, and the show really dropped the ball when they wouldn't let Alex and Lena be together. They're an interesting and dynamic pairing - they share interests, are both huge science nerds and yet so completely different that its great fun writing them both together.

As for Lois and Kara - that one literally came out of nowhere and took me by surprise. I'd never intended for it to happen, and yet now that it has, I'm wondering why I never thought of it sooner!

Has the time spent away from your story changed your outlook or approach to any of the storylines or themes? Have you had any new inspirations or breakthroughs/revelations in the meantime? 

Absolutely. I got to a point with the fic where it had grown stale, and I was constantly hitting up against a wall with no idea how to get around it, or to power through it. So, I walked away from the fic and decided to focus on other WIPs and new creations instead. Coming back to it now, I've been able to see everything with fresh eyes, and I can see not only where I was going wrong before, but also a way to fix it. Changing the villain, adding characters, getting rid of redundant plot threads and adding more relevant pieces has really helped to get this work to a place where finally, I can see the finish line and I know I'm going to make it. That's a huge relief, considering where I was 2 years ago when I first started writing it.

Any advice for new or aspiring fic writers?

Never give up. No matter how hard it might be, just put words on a page. It doesn't matter how rubbish they are, as my BFF always says, "You can't edit a blank page." Let yourself suck, let yourself write horrendously. It's all good practice. Even if those words never leave your notebook or the document on your computer, they've taught you something, they've helped you to improve, so be proud of them.

Writing is also a bit like a painting. Not even Da Vinci or Van Gogh sat at his easel and created a masterpiece on his first try. There's the initial sketches to plan out the idea. That's your plot or summary. Then you add basic blocks of colours. That's your first draft. From then on, you work away slowly, adding details, shading, contouring...those are your second, third, fourth drafts. Keep revising and editing as much as you need - there's no right or wrong number of times you should be doing it. Because each time you do, you're adding more detail to your masterpiece. And what you end up with is a work of art.

One final piece of advice... writing is not a solo event. All those times a writer is depicted sitting along, tapping away at a keyboard or scribbling in a notebook, it's so misleading. Get yourself a writing buddy. DKGwrites and I are best friends, we met through fanfiction (and I'm eternally grateful for that everyday). We have regular writing sessions together, and ok it's 90% messing around, distracting one another, talking utter nonsense or throwing random videos and links to each other, but that 10% when we do actually behave and get down to the task at hand, it's so much more fun writing together than it ever is when we try to write alone. Silliness aside, we help one another, bounce ideas off one another, motivate and encourage one another, and it's the best thing ever. So find yourself a writing buddy, and have a blast!

If you were going to promote this fic with a single line, what would it be? 

What if Supergirl was a badass redhead called Alex Danvers?

We'll have more about her artwork in the coming weeks, but in the meantime, check out her work on A03!