#The house will no longer exist afterwards

[weaselandfriends]

The Making Of: When I Win the World Ends

(For my previous Making Of post, see The Making Of: Cleveland Quixotic.)

I. 1999

It was the year of the cubicle movie. It was the year of Fight Club, of Office Space, of Being John Malkovich, of Three Kings, of The Matrix, and of American Beauty. It was the year of suburban malaise, of eternal sunshine, of ceaseless normality. A year of United States hegemony; a year whose chief terror was that THIS WAS IT.

Before the millennium turned and the towers fell, there was an initial challenge to this order, a completely inconsequential one made consequential by a newly minted 24/7 news media machine running out of noise to fill dead air now that people were sick to bursting of the Clinton impeachment. This challenge came not through war, revolution, or violence, but through entertainment. Children's entertainment.

And I was a child. Unaware of any cultural context, I knew only one thing: I loved Pokémon. I really, really loved Pokémon.

I owned Red Version, Blue Version, Yellow Version, Pokémon Pinball, Pokémon Stadium, Pokémon Snap, Hey You Pikachu, a Pokémon Tetris sort of puzzle game, even the Pokémon TCG game for Gameboy. I had ten to fifteen strategy guides for the games, an encyclopedia of the 151 Pokémon, a choose your own adventure book, an I Spy-style book. I had Pokémon figurines, Pokémon plushies, toy Poké Balls, toy Pokédexes. I had Pokémon stamps and Pokémon stickers and a deck of Pokémon cards. Not trading cards, just a standard 52-card deck with Pokémon pictures on it. Of course I also had the trading cards. A complete set of the first three runs, plus a special Mew card you could get from I dunno Toys R Us or something as part of some promotion. I had a guide for the card game that explained which cards were good or bad even though I didn't even play the card game. I had a Pokémon Tamagotchi and Pokémon pencils and Pokémon erasers and Ash Ketchum's hat and I dressed up as Ash Ketchum for Halloween. Of course I watched every episode of the anime, and in notebooks I drew doodles of existing Pokémon and came up with names for new Pokémon. My father had died that year.

My father was a sports fanatic. Traditional sports. He, too, collected. Sports memorabilia, baseball cards, figures of famous stars. When I was an infant, he drove me on a cross country road trip to Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin, where I became a part owner of the Green Bay Packers. He had always wanted me to grow up and pursue professional sports. When I was born, the doctor apparently said to start looking for football colleges, a quote he saved in a scrapbook of baby photos. He had played sports himself, in college; he was a baseball catcher, until a hitter accidentally struck him in the head with a full force swing.

Almost everything I personally remember about him involves him dying. He was sick for a long time, and I remember hospitals and hospital beds and strange smells and gauze. And then one day my mother told me he died.

He was a charismatic man, very social and very popular. He had many friends and a lot of family, all of whom had constantly been around our house. Once he was gone, they stopped coming around. Then it was just me and my mother, who was not a fanatic for anything, except maybe her job as an elementary school teacher, which consumed her time as she assiduously prepared lesson plans and graded tests until late at night. When my father died, she got into some argument with his side of the family, the details of which I still don't fully understand, and afterward they no longer spoke. Her own family lived far away, out-of-state, seen only at Christmas. The house became quiet.

And I… played… Pokémon.

II. The Electric Tale of Pikachu

Toshihiro Ono was a mangaka primarily known for shotacon and futanari hentai. His credits such as Innyou Megami and Anal Justice made him a no-brainer pick for the officially licensed Pokémon manga, Electric Tale of Pikachu, as it too would feature a 10-year-old boy as the protagonist.

This manga would be the foundation for my conception of what Pokémon was, narratively. Though I also had the Pokémon Adventures manga that ran concurrently and which has by now long outlasted it, Electric Tale left a significantly deeper imprint on my memory.

In summary, Electric Tale is a retelling of the first two seasons of the anime. Ash Ketchum is the main character, he's accompanied by Misty and later Brock, his rival is Gary, and Team Rocket harangues him.

What sets Electric Tale apart is its tone, which is far more adult than Adventures and the anime. Obviously, part of this comes from the author's primary area of expertise being hentai. Even in the censored English version, there is a sense of sexual playfulness in how every single female character is an older woman who likes to tease Ash about his romantic interests.

But there are other elements that creep in unrelated to sex, due to the perspective of someone only used to speaking to adults who suddenly has to speak to children. Ono doesn't really get the childish fantasy of leaving at 10 being normal in society, so he introduces an element where Ash can only get a one year deferment from school and will have to return unless he hits it big. Team Rocket are former competitive hopefuls who flamed out and then, with no education or work experience to speak of, had no choice but to turn to crime. The Pokémon are depicted more realistically, often eschewing the toyetic mascot elements of their designs.

And the landscapes are often wistful, even apocalyptic in their presentation:

This more sedate, mature, realistic depiction of Pokémon became what I wanted Pokémon to be, what I projected onto an original Red and Blue version that left everything open to interpretation, and what would increasingly frustrate me with the series as it deviated more toward bombastic villain groups with goofy destroy-the-world plots. (Which was what put me off Pokémon Adventures.)

Amid all this, one panel stuck with me in particular. One panel I would think about ever since I first saw it as a child, that would turn around in my head and keep coming back. That panel would eventually—over two decades later—become the basis for When I Win the World Ends, the seed from which an entire story grew:

III. The Unkillable Demon King

But in the interim, the seed remained dormant. 1999 fell away. I grew up. I played later Pokémon games and increasingly lost interest by around Gen 4 and 5. Then I went to college.

That's when I started playing League of Legends.

I was something of a psychopath in college. I operated on a strict schedule and did not deviate. Wake up, read 50 pages of classic literature, write 2,000 words, go to classes, study, and then by about four in the afternoon all my obligations were done and it was League of Legends until midnight.

I wasn't actually interested in the League of Legends esports scene in its infancy. In 2012, I was actually invited to attend its World Championship in Los Angeles and refused. (When I received this invitation, I had just finished reading Homestuck for the first time, and was caught in a month-long haze in which I could do little but bask within what I considered the greatest artistic achievement I'd seen in my life. It was this month that inspired Modern Cannibals.) I only liked playing the game and watching Dunkey videos.

It wasn't until the next year, when a girl I was interested in recommended I watch, that I tuned in to my first professional League of Legends game, at the 2013 World Championship. It was there that I got to watch this new, hyped, upcoming Korean player who had apparently taken the pro scene by storm that season. That player was Faker.

It has seemingly become essential to the narrative of any sport that there is "the man who always wins." American football has Tom Brady, and the moment Brady retired, he was replaced by Patrick Mahomes. Basketball has LeBron James, picking up the mantle from Michael Jordan. It's as if someone being "the best" validates the skill-based promise of the sport, the fundamental top-down fairness of its premise, the idea that the person who wins is the best and deserved it. Faker would become the backbone of League of Legends esports and his ascendance correlated to that of the sport itself, from its humble roots at small-scale tournaments in places like Jönköping, Sweden, to max capacity arenas in the biggest cities in the world.

It's surprising, though, how the legend of Faker had already begun even before he won his first World Championship. League of Legends was designed as a clone of Defense of the Ancients (DotA), a popular mod for Warcraft III that emphasized competitive play. In its infancy, the competitive scene was mostly dominated by players who had migrated from DotA to League. They were older, winning thanks to a fundamental conceptual understanding of the game that was superior to everyone else, and frankly not very good in the aggregate. As League of Legends esports exploded in popularity from 2013 to 2015, these old pros would get filtered out swiftly, with even the biggest and most popular names retiring after only a couple of years in the scene.

Even once the new generation of League-grown talent ascended, though, careers were nasty, brutish, and short. The best players only remained on top for a season, as game patches dramatically changed viable strategies. Internationally the sport was dominated by Koreans, with the Korean regional league sometimes being seen as more difficult to win than the World Championship, where Koreans often breezed through uncompetitive Chinese, European, and North American squads.

This possibly affected the demographics of the professional scene. South Korea has mandatory military service, and leaving the pro scene to join the military was basically the end of a Korean player's career. This meant that it was rare to see a Korean player older than 25. Retiring in your early 20s was and remains common. Korean organizations, which had an infrastructural leg up on other regions due to the popularity of StarCraft 2 esports in the country, became adept at scouting promising players at 15 or 16, building them into top level competitive pros, wringing them dry for a few seasons with brutal training regimens, and spitting them out.

Faker was the exception. Though he had been discovered young by SK Telecom, a major Korean telecommunications company that did esports on the side, and gone through the training regimen, he refused to be spit out. He simply didn't stop. He won in 2013, then with a completely new four-man squad around him won again in 2015 and 2016 before narrowly losing the 2017 finals in a nail biter. Given League of Legends esports had only existed since 2011, he basically accounted for half of the championships up until that point. Nobody else, except for his teammates, had won more than once. And it was like it was known he would be this juggernaut the instant he manifested ex nihilo. Like it was known, even in 2013, that he would always win.

Then, Faker stopped winning.

By 2017, League of Legends esports was a titan. Venture capital firms, seeing the millions of eyeballs, thought that this was the next NBA in its infancy, and decided to get in on the ground floor. Multiple millions of dollars were pumped into the scene as even mediocre players in weak regions like North America pulled seven-digit salaries. In China, where League of Legends had become the national pastime, the nation's richest oligarchs ran teams for fun and vanity, outbidding Korean organizations for top Korean players in pursuit of a trophy that had gone to Korea every year since 2013. Riot, the studio developing the game, pumped tons of money into creating a professional sports product, with skilled announcers, dedicated arenas for regional leagues, live performances by musicians like Imagine Dragons and Lil Nas X, and all the other bells and whistles one might expect from a program watched on ESPN.

In this milieu, it seemed like Faker had finally reached his limit. He was still good, but not the best. Even as an individual, while everyone still considered him the "greatest of all time," he was considered outmatched by newer pros like Chovy and ShowMaker. 2018, 2019, 2020, and 2021 passed with no championships. In 2022, on a team of mostly rookies, he reached the world finals, but was ultimately beaten. Korea's stranglehold over the sport had been shaken by China, which had finally strung together some championships. People wondered if Faker would retire, although he had managed to avoid mandatory military service by representing Korea in the Olympics-esque Asian Games. He'd dealt with wrist injuries and his level of play dropped year over year. He just didn't seem to be that good anymore, potentially holding back his team of talented young players rather than leading them to victory.

Then, in 2023—

And in 2024—

In the end, never count out Touchdown Tom. 11 years of professional play, 5 world championships.

From this longwinded explanation, you might have realized that after watching that game in 2013, I became a League of Legends esports fanatic, fulfilling the prophecy set before me by my father though perhaps in not the way he would have expected.

And the things I become a fanatic about, I want to write a story about.

IV. Modern Cannibals

There's a deleted scene in Modern Cannibals, as Maximillion is driving Z. and her friends through the Utah desert. He starts to talk about Pokémon.

"I bring it up because my university thesis was about Pokemon in particular how Pokemon has basically trained an entire generation of children to think in a completely different way than preceding generations my generation for instance our fad was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles now I don't know how much you know about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles but from an educational standpoint we're talking absolute bankrupt complete and utter goose egg but Pokemon now Pokemon you see it's more like there's some substance to it you know that refrain Gotta Catch Em All right?" "..." "Well to most parents it looks like a marketing gimmick you make one hundred fifty-one characters and structure a game around collecting them the merchandising potential is astronomical kids buy one hundred fifty-one trading cards stickers coloring books figurines uh collectable lunchable toys I'm sure you've got some yourself."

He continues:

"But really you look at the game itself before the big toy explosion the game itself the focus is placed less on the collection and more on the catalogue you're given a blank encyclopedia to fill and you fill it by capturing one hundred fifty-one Pokemon but the goal is to create a complete database of each and every one and this is what I argue is the educational core of the Pokemon series." His hands left the wheel to conceive of his idea in the cool air of the car, which remained steady on its ever-forward path. "Our modern era is no longer one of singular isolated knowledge it is one of the catalogue the database which is most clearly personified in the advent of the internet because now all knowledge can be at the fingertips of any one human being all that is needed is someone to go and put the catalogue together and presto whiz bang it's there think about it Z. when you catch a bunch of Pokemon where do you store them?" Z. didn't need to think long to remember the game's mechanics. "In the PC." "Exactly now isn't that odd consider it in real life terms you have real life creatures made assumedly of flesh and bone and yet you store them in a computer how does that make sense you'd expect a farm or a holding pen but no it's the computer and that too prepares the budding portion of the millennial generation to become cognizant of the linkage between the computer the encyclopedia and the database structure of knowledge in a new era." "So," said Z. "So you're saying Pokemon taught kids how to think in the digital age?"

There's also a deleted character in Modern Cannibals. Well, mostly deleted—he still shows up, unnamed, in a couple of pages. He is Cole Coulter, Z.'s older brother, a popular League of Legends streamer. Before I deleted him, his role was to accompany Mrs. Roddlevan and Frederick in an attempt to bring Z. back home. He had POV scenes that gave insight into the weirdness of his cotravelers, but ultimately, I decided he didn't add anything to the story and removed him almost entirely.

Even then, though, I was already considering the future of Cole Coulter as the protagonist of a story about League of Legends esports. Playing under the ID MadKing, he would be a North American professional top laner, once known for his aggressive duelist style but recently forced into playing boring tanks as the esports metagame became more sophisticated and tactics-based.

The story would be simple, something I envisioned as a "sports story" only about esports instead of regular sports. It would start with Cole's team being relegated from the league, only for Cole to get a last chance signing to a new team with two promising Korean imports. One import, the mid laner, would be a charismatic and eccentric player in the mold of Doinb/Ganked By Mom/Huhi, while the other, an AD carry, would be introverted and pissy and elitist, in the mold of Piglet. The team would initially struggle, cultures would clash, then a mid-season replacement to sign a psychopathic Tyler1/Tarzaned style streamer as jungler would revitalize the team, put them on a major run, and get them to the World Championship. Though they would eventually fall after a miracle run, Cole would get a moment to truly shine on the biggest stage when he won a pivotal game by aggressive split pushing rather than tank play.

Thematically, the story would be about two things. First, a counterpoint to the idea of American exceptionalism, featuring a league where Americans are particularly bad compared to Korean or Chinese players. Second, an exploration of what it means to be exceptional at all. Cole would be an all-around mediocre person. Middling at school, at (real) sports, at the various popularity contests of being a teenager. League of Legends, this niche sub-sport, is the one thing he truly excelled at, the one place where he was good, better than 99.9 percent of all players, and yet even within that statistical greatness he wound up, ultimately, in a professional scene where he was once again mediocre, relegated to "tank duty," to facilitating other players to carry.

What does it mean to be the best? How can someone be so, so good, only to reach a level where they were still nothing special? Is there any way to win if you're not "the man who always wins"?

I remembered that panel from Electric Tale of Pikachu. The last people filtered before the final champion. It's certainly no walk in the zoo!

This idea was pretty detailed for a story I never wound up writing, something I mostly blame on the years 2018 and 2019, when a lot of bad things happened to me and in retrospect I consider it a minor miracle I managed to finish Chicago at all. As a human being, I would be decimated for the next three years, and so a lot of stories I might have written in that time never came to fruition.

Meanwhile, League of Legends esports reached a peak, then the venture capital bubble burst as investors realized there was no monetization scheme in place for any interested party except Riot Games. Money hemorrhaged out, Riot shifted resources to Valorant, and a sport that had been overinflated based on projected exponential growth in perpetuity fell back down to earth.

Also, Players came out.

Players was a 2022 mockumentary about a fictional League of Legends team competing in the North American league. Conceptually, it was doing a lot of what I had planned for my story: following a single team on a rags-to-riches run, focusing on the interpersonal drama of the team members, asking questions about greatness and its pursuit. It's a pretty good show if you're familiar with League of Legends esports at all, with a lot of on-the-ground fidelity that gives it an authentic feel, which is exactly what I had been hoping to use my esports fanaticism to accomplish. It completely took the wind out of my sails; it was like my idea had already been done.

So by 2022, the idea of a League of Legends esports story was dead. But there was still a drive to create something with that spirit, that would delve into those themes.

What remained after all these years of sifting the sieve, letting sand slip through, was that one panel from the manga. The number of people pursuing greatness slowly filtering until only one remained. And if I wasn't going to pursue that idea through League of Legends, maybe I could pursue it through another vehicle. Maybe the vehicle through which the idea had originally been exposed to me. Pokémon. It all came back to Pokémon.

V. Everything Evolving Into Crabs

I knew immediately that if I were to write a Pokémon fic, it would be a tournament arc. This was the natural evolution of my esports story idea. Also, if I were to write Pokémon, I wanted it to be a story about utopia, immersed within Pokémon's near-future ideal world, where everything is clean and healthy, where society is neat and ordered.

This idea caused me to remember the novel Eyeless in Gaza by Aldous Huxley, which I had read a few years back. A mostly autobiographical bildungsroman written on the precipice of World War II, the novel ends with the young protagonist on a journey to Central America, where he meets an idealistic doctor who believes sport to be a proper substitution for war. He tells the story of two tribes locked in internecine conflict through generations, able to replace that violence with soccer matches.

And wasn't that what the world of Pokémon was, a utopia revolving around neutralizing weapons of war by using them for competitive sport?

This tournament, I envisioned, would not simply be about deciding who was best, but an ideological battle for the future of the Pokémon world. To that end, I imagined a war between an entrenched trainer class, who competed as philosopher-warriors, intense individuals with deep connections to their Pokémon, and an upstart commercialization that sought to replace the ideological underpinnings that made their society so safe and prosperous with economic accumulation. It was from this kernel that the character who would become Aracely Sosa arose: charismatic, appealing, human-empathic, and propped up by a support staff who did all the hard work of teambuilding for her.

I imagined the story having an ensemble cast, focusing on nearly every competitor equally, with the Aracely character not having any especial focus until her improbable rise to the top. I imagined a final round where she faced off against "the man who always wins," and though she would lose to him, she would seem to have won the ideological battle, altering the course of society as major corporations scrambled to employ her formula for success at a much grander scale. The story would end with this realization of the earth-shattering importance behind her run, only for Aracely to sink in disappointment. Because in the end, all she really wanted was to win.

The more I thought about it, though, the less I liked the idea of an ensemble cast. The ensemble cast element of Chicago hadn't gone over very well (though I like it), and I figured it would wind up inflating the length of the story considerably. I was coming to the end of Cleveland Quixotic, after all, and once more wanted to write something smaller, tighter, and denser.

So I oriented my thinking to instead have the story revolve around Aracely and one major rival, to give an interpersonal mirror to the ideological war being waged. Thus, Toril came about as an antithesis to everything I had imagined Aracely to be: gruff, antisocial, independent. Their rivalry would culminate in a semifinals battle, before Aracely went on to fight "the man who always wins" in the finals.

I forget exactly when the gender theme came into the equation, but it evolved as an outgrowth of (once again) my competitive League of Legends expertise, where women are essentially nonexistent despite there seemingly being no biological blocks against them. This dovetailed nicely with Pokémon, a world where women seemingly could be powerful competitors, but where—in the anime at least—none ever are. For instance, look at this chart of every major tournament in the anime:

Every known winner is male. Every known finalist and semifinalist is male. Only a handful of female characters have reached the quarterfinals. What possible in-universe justification could there be for that?

This question was actually far more prominent in early planning and drafting than it wound up being in the final work. Initially, I had Aracely's personal motivation revolve around a drive to be the first female trainer to win; this would increase the ideological conflict between her and Toril, who attempted to ignore that she was female altogether. Over time, this theme would see diminished importance in face of the last piece of the thematic puzzle: cults.

It came from reading Underground by Haruki Murakami, a nonfiction journalistic account of the 1995 Tokyo sarin gas attacks carried out by the cult Aum Shinrikyo under the direction of its leader Shoko Asahara. Japan in the 90s was experiencing its own End of History, one taken literally by those disaffected with modern society's grand narrative. The prophecies of Nostradamus became fashionable among the young, who believed that 1999 would be the final year before the world was destroyed. Murakami interviewed both survivors of the gas attack and members of Aum Shinrikyo, collecting worldviews of people who simply thought they were "different" and who were willing to give everything in their lives to the one place that seemed to accept that difference.

The 1995 attacks were a watershed moment in Japanese culture. In their wake would come pivotal works of Japanese pop media, like the titan of otaku culture, Neon Genesis Evangelion:

(What's scary about Nostradamus' prophecy is that it might not come true. A year whose chief terror was that THIS WAS IT.)

Pokémon, whose first games released in Japan in 1996, also emerged within this post-Aum world where fixation on the minutiae of pop media was becoming a primary pillar of meaning for the youth, and it's hard not to see echoes of cultism in the evil teams that dot the series' landscape. Even Team Rocket, originally more modeled on organized crime than occultism, veers that direction in Gold and Silver, and afterward the organizations and their world-ending plots become increasingly absurd, to the point where it starts to become unclear why anyone would ever follow, say, Lysandre.

As I mentioned earlier, my personal interest in Pokémon was at odds with these clownish, Saturday morning cartoon villain organizations, but Murakami's account of the Aum attacks recontextualized them for me, made them make sense even within the framework of a "realistic" utopian world. The last elements snapped into place, and I knew my main character would be the member of one of these cults. A cult dedicated to, what else? Evolution. A core element of the Pokémon series, a perfect metaphor for the frustrating lack of movement of the End of History 90s. I imagined a cult leader as a surrogate mother figure for Aracely, who would have a strained relationship with both of her own parents, and deciding on that, the idea of making Pokémon's canon evil mother Lusamine the villain was a no-brainer. I imagined a post-SuMo Lusamine, unable to move on from her experience merged with Nihilego, languishing in Kanto after being sent there to consult with Bill, who had his own experience being merged with a Pokémon... It didn't take long to figure out how all these pieces connected.

The full form of the story had taken shape.

VI. Showdown

I knew immediately I would be following Showdown rules for the battles. No alternative even crossed my mind. I had dabbled in Showdown a few times over the years, first in Gen 3 OUs, then later in Gen 7 OUs, and I knew from experience that Pokémon is a monumentally more interesting competitive game when operating at a high level compared to either its depiction in the anime (shounen logic, mid-fight evolutions) or the general playing experience (spam your best move on your overleveled starter). I knew I would use competitive rulesets before I even considered the thematic or worldbuilding aspect I would eventually take in the story itself (i.e., that the specific rulesets prevent battles from becoming bloodsport and enforce order on the world). I simply thought doing battles this way would be far more entertaining.

To prepare, I started playing Gen 9 OUs under the guidance of a few friends who were into the competitive scene. I grinded the ladder for months, eventually getting a good enough grasp on the metagame to reach 1500 Elo on the Showdown ladder, which is not very good but generally higher than someone can reach with dumb luck.

Crafting the tournament format and rulesets used in the story wasn't difficult. I modeled the tournament format on the League of Legends World Championship, with region-based seeds (having been selected due to performance in regional tournaments) competing in four groups before the highest performers advanced to a single elimination bracket. Initially, I envisioned a 32-competitor bracket instead of the 16-competitor bracket that would appear in the final draft, but otherwise the format came quickly and easily.

In terms of the rulesets and available Pokémon, my considerations were made primarily in terms of what would be most entertaining to read. I decided to include Mega Evolutions and not include Z Moves, Dynamax, or Terastallization, because Mega Evolutions are cool and those other gimmicks are not. The bring-9-pick-6 format, while unusual in Showdown rulesets, is similar to the rules in Pokémon Stadium and VGC tournaments, and also adds a level of intrigue to which Pokémon each competitor uses. (It also enabled Red's Zapdos at the climax of the story, which was something I knew I would bring out from very early on.)

With the help of one of my friends who knew competitive Pokémon, I scripted out each battle assiduously before I wrote them. Every battle was tested using Showdown itself, with only a few turns mocked up to account for luck. For instance, in Aracely versus Jinjiao, Slowking is meant to stay asleep for three turns. Rather than rely on luck to ensure Slowking actually slept that long during the test, I could give Slowking a useless move and have him use that instead to simulate being asleep.

The only thing that couldn't be tested in Showdown was the 7 PP Kingambit trick Red uses at the end of the story, because it's impossible to set a Pokémon to have fewer than max PP in Showdown. This led to one of the bigger mistakes of the story, as it turns out that Encore would simply wear off if Kingambit ran out of PP, rather than forcing him to use Struggle like I assumed. Luckily, even if this were the case, it wouldn't change the outcome of the battle, so it's not an error I lose too much sleep over.

Character teams were chosen to thread the needle between a few considerations. The team needed to be competitively viable, reflect the character's personality in some way, and be distinct from other teams for the sake of variety. (Variety is somewhat unrealistic in real top-level competitive Pokémon, where you'll often see many almost identical teams in the top ranks. But that would be boring.) Some lack of optimization was allowed under the conceit that actually training these Pokémon to peak form would take a lot of time in the real world, compared to Showdown were optimization can be determined quickly due to the ability to immediately adjust stats and builds.

I also tried to give some preference for Pokémon that would be more familiar to layman fans, though this was difficult because Gen 8 and 9 have outrageous power creep and many popular early generation Pokémon have been completely phased out. (Using Megas helped with this issue.) It was this consideration that led to Azumarill being Aracely's ace. There was also an innate challenge to imagining what the competitive scene would look like without legendary Pokémon. Zapdos and Landorus-Therian have been inexorable staples of the competitive scene for generations. What happens in a world where they aren't used at all?

In the original 32-person bracket, I imagined Aracely competing against Jinjiao in the first round, then minor characters Adrian da Cunha and Jacq Ray Johnson in the next two rounds, before facing Toril in semifinals. I imagined Adrian da Cunha as a "hometown hero" whose team wasn't great but he was plucky with a lot of grit, and Jacq Ray Johnson as a self-aware heel who liked to use cheesy strategies and gimmicky Pokémon like Smeargle and Ditto. Condensing from 32 to 16 occurred around the same time I had settled on Lusamine as my villain/cult leader, which led to replacing those two with Gladion. I developed full brackets for both the 32-man and 16-man iterations, with character names and regions, just in case I ever needed to mention them.

All that was left to do was write the story.

VII. Unbroken Line of History

I began writing in September 2023 under the tentative title Unbroken Line of History, which I would later change to simply Lines. In the original drafts, I opened the story with a modified version of the panel from Electric Tale of Pikachu detailing how people are filtered over time in their pursuit of being the best, this time starting with all 8 billion people in the world until only one remains. The story then cut to Aracely's perspective in the restroom as she mentally prepared for her final group stage match.

At this point I was more set on Aracely being the clear protagonist of the story, so she had a few facets of her personality designed around that. First, as I mentioned before, there was a feminist angle where she was motivated specifically to be the first female trainer to win the championship. Secondly, I threw in some more generic nervousness/fear of failure. The other major difference is that I did not lead with the cult prophecy of the world ending. I originally envisioned the cult reveal to be a mid-story twist, and only obliquely hinted at it.

The scene still played out with Toril appearing and the two getting off to a bad start. Then, Cely's father tried to talk strategy with her while she ignored him, before the battle transpired in much the same form as it does in the final draft.

I showed this early draft to my friends and most disliked it. My girlfriend at the time told me Cely sounded like an edgy 13-year-old boy, while my neuroscientist friend whose aspirational idol is Bondrewd from Made in Abyss wanted to know more about the oblique hints of a cult, finding everything else boring. Another friend said it was stupid that there were 30 seconds between turns during the battle and that the Pokémon should just go at each other; nobody would actually want to watch a battle that was paced so slowly. (I vehemently disagreed with that take. Basically every popular sport balances between slow-paced moments of strategy and fast-paced moments of action and execution.) Some people I showed it to did enjoy it, though. Gazemaize, the author of Chili and the Chocolate Factory, was especially enamored by the Brittany/Gardevoir reveal and the Bud Light Analyst Desk, and implored me to keep both of those elements at all costs. 7th, one of my friends who helped me with the Showdown stuff, was so into it she drew fan art of all the characters (which I've posted before) and also wrote eight pornographic short stories about them.

I rewrote the same opening scene several times across October and November, though these were minor iterations without significant adjustments. Frustrated with the lack of progress, I decided to take a break from writing to simply think about the story for a few months.

During this time, to fix Aracely's edgy 13-year-old voice, I decided to lean into her being from Pokémon Los Angeles (with her native region, Visia, being a play on "visual" as a reference to Hollywood) and gave her a Valley Girl accent. To prepare for this, I listened to hours and hours of ASMR videos of people speaking like Valley Girls and took notes on their inflection and syntax. It was here where I decided on Aracely's underlining quirk, as a way of capturing the unique style of emphasis Valley Girls used.

This also made me realize I needed to adjust Aracely's personality. Despite the tone of her voice, she was still acting antisocially. She didn't want to talk to her father, she didn't want to talk to Lachlan Nguyen, she didn't even really want to talk to Toril. Toril herself was a lump of coal. My own misanthropy kept leaking into the characters, even when I conceptually didn't want them to have it. I thought back to Cleveland Quixotic, and how what made the Jay and Viviendre romance work was that they actually both liked each other, and figured—even though I didn't have explicitly romantic plans for Aracely and Toril—that I needed to do something similar to make their rivalry truly pop. Rather than avoid people, Aracely would lean into talking to them, even if they were annoying. Although Toril remained frigid, there would be a part of her yearning for emotional contact, a way to coax her out of her shell.

I also thought deeply about the structure of my stories in general, and my inability to come up with good hooks. It was around this time that someone I knew was reading Chicago. They pointed out that the plot of Chicago doesn't really start until Chapter 26; that I was "burying the lede." I considered this. My logic, when writing Chicago, was that the Empire moving to take over Washington would be a twist, something that would shock and excite people and change their perception of the entire story.

But did that make sense, when really the story was "about" that twist? Didn't that just make everything before the twist harder to get into for a reader? Chicago might look radically different if I revealed the Empire's goals immediately, but it would also probably be a more immediately engaging work. I'm a big fan of delayed gratification in storytelling, but had I taken it too far?

This was a major revelation for me, and immediately I understood what I needed to do for my Pokémon story: move up the cult plotline. Place it front and center. Name the whole story after it even. I decided on framing the opening scene from Toril's perspective, depicting Aracely initially more as an alien other, emphasizing the fact that she was in a cult rather than hide it behind foreshadowing. This could also lead to Aracely and Toril having more of a dual protagonist setup, which would make my planned two-half finale (one half where Aracely battled "the man who always wins," one half where Toril got involved in stopping the cult's doomsday plot) work even better.

Confidence resurged. At the end of January 2024, my girlfriend of seven years  and I broke up. A few days later, I started writing the sixth—and ultimately final—draft of When I Win the World Ends.

VIII. When I Win the World Ends

Now it's the part of the Making Of where I actually make the thing I'm supposed to be making, but there's a lot less to say about it. Once I have a plan, the actual writing of the story is the easy part, and most of what I wrote—with a few exceptions��looks similar to the story as it exists now.

There were some oddities. I wrote the first seven chapters (everything up to the end of the Jinjiao battle) and then had to take a two week break to write a short piece for a writing contest I had entered in December as part of an effort to stop overthinking WIW. After this interruption, I returned to WIW writing perhaps a bit more perfunctorily than I usually would, leading to an original version of Chapter 8 (the chapter where MOTHER makes her first real appearance) that was short and abbreviated. Later, in editing, I would rewrite most of this chapter.

A few ideas emerged while writing, like the motif of serendipity/Logos, which I felt tied nicely to the ideas of evolution and history. It was also in this draft that I introduced Cely's friends Haydn and Charlie, as a nod to an earlier work of mine also featuring a fashion-obsessed girl from Los Angeles. (Speaking of nods to earlier works, in the original 32-man bracket, Cole Coulter featured as one of the competitors, but he didn't make the 16-man cut.)

The process went smoothly. I finished the draft at the end of May, a little under four months after I started it. I had envisioned the full story as being about 70,000 words, but the draft ended up closer to 115,000. Underestimating story length is just an essential element of the trade, though.

A few days after finishing the draft I went on a four-day Oklahoma Darkness Retreat where I had access to zero electronics. The goal was to think about my story deeply and how it could be improved in the editing process.

In this time chamber, where I did nothing except complete crossword puzzles and read The Recognitions by William Gaddis, I came to a realization. There was one element the story needed that wasn't already there.

That element was Sabrina. In the original draft, Sabrina was not present during the scene where Aracely meets the Old Man. She was mentioned obliquely a couple of times in conjunction with Aracely's "psychic powers," but it never really built to anything. There was still a scene where Aracely was interrogated due to her relationship with MOTHER, but only by nameless goons, and the scene lacked tension as it was clear Aracely could talk circles around them.

When I returned from Oklahoma, I prepared for my conception of Sabrina as a character by writing an 8,000 word short story from her perspective, which hashed out an entire backstory for her. Then, I started editing the draft.

For me, a lot of editing is just polish. Usually, cutting out needless sentences and fixing clunky ones, as well as emphasizing a few of the more understated themes and motifs. For instance, during editing, I made slight additions to emphasize the thematic connection between Aracely's suicide attempt and the global war that almost destroyed the world, as well as the connection between the moon and cyclical insanity (lunacy, etymologically, being related to the moon). I made the Old Man more of a Walt Disney-esque figure (from my notes: "a dying Disney"), rewriting much of his dialogue to either be direct quotes or to evoke his ideals. I also expanded on several of the scenes where Toril and Aracely interact to make their relationship more complex and nuanced. I gave MOTHER some new dialogue, including her speech in Chapter 18 about loving a child for the potential it promises, while also paradoxically wanting it to remain a child forever.

The largest changes were in the three chapters I almost fully rewrote. The first was Chapter 8, which as I mentioned earlier was overly terse. In the original draft, it depicted MOTHER as more pathetic, more dependent on Aracely. I decided to make her a more threatening figure, and incorporated a few references to the Moloch sacrifice scene from Valle Verde to make her seem more like a false idol. Similarly, I rewrote Chapter 12, which was originally a very short chapter that focused solely on a conversation between MOTHER and Nilufer that ended with the order to kidnap Aracely. In rewriting the chapter to include Fiorella, I gave myself more opportunity to flesh out the respective philosophies of her and MOTHER (including some of the story's most salient discussions about why cults exist), as well as give more of an insight into the inner workings of RISE as an organization. And lastly, I fully rewrote Chapter 19 to include Sabrina.

The last changes I made in editing were to the final chapter. When I finished the final draft of the story, I sent it to several readers, many of whom had looked at the original drafts of the first chapter, as well as julirites, the author of a Fargo fan fiction called London. There was an immediate and minor backlash to the final chapter, which was originally much more pessimistic, from most people who read it. In the original version, Aracely and Toril were not still in communication. (Fiorella was also dying of cancer instead of jockeying to replace the Old Man.) The finale had a much more somber, sedate, tragic note. Juli and 7th disliked this sad ending, while Gazemaize wanted me to cut the final chapter altogether. I felt confident that the final chapter was necessary, though, and revised it to its current version, which was much better liked.

And then... the story was finished, near the end of July. I crunched the numbers and realized that if I posted two chapters to start and then did a twice-weekly posting schedule, I could end the story serendipitously on October 12. So I did.

IX. Names and Special Thanks

In my Making Of post for Cleveland Quixotic, I had a fairly extensive list of where I got all the character and place names from. The list is a lot less extensive here; most names I constructed for the purpose of sounding evocative, rather than taking them from someplace specific. For instance, I chose the name Aracely Sosa because it sounds like whistling with its repeated S sounds, compared to Toril Lund which is a lot harsher with its consonants. You can see a similar rationale behind names like Fiorella Fiorina, Yui Matsui, and even some of the background characters, like Jacq Ray Johnson, Jr., where there is a lot of emphasis on alliteration and rhyme.

There are a couple of exceptions. Jinjiao is the in-game ID of a longtime Chinese League of Legends pro of middling notability. He picked the name (which means "Golden Horn") as a reference to the Golden Horned King, a villain from Journey to the West.

Lutz, Fiorella's cameraman, was named after an extremely minor character from Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance, who is not playable and only appears in a singular cutscene before being killed. They are so irrelevant that despite naming a character after them, I actually forgot their name, which is Lotz, not Lutz.

Haydn is named after the famous classical composer.

Special thanks to 7th and Elick320 for helping me with the teams and battles. Thanks to Gazemaize and julirites, among others unnamed, for reading and providing feedback. And thank you all for enjoying the story.

[confusedbyinterface]

I just found out that Kazama was voiced by Grey DeLisle in the Vitello dub and so:

[nasa]

Athletes Go for the Gold with NASA Spinoffs

NASA technology tends to find its way into the sporting world more often than you’d expect. Fitness is important to the space program because astronauts must undergo the extreme g-forces of getting into space and endure the long-term effects of weightlessness on the human body. The agency’s engineering expertise also means that items like shoes and swimsuits can be improved with NASA know-how.

As the 2024 Olympics are in full swing in Paris, here are some of the many NASA-derived technologies that have helped competitive athletes train for the games and made sure they’re properly equipped to win.

The LZR Racer reduces skin friction drag by covering more skin than traditional swimsuits. Multiple pieces of the water-resistant and extremely lightweight LZR Pulse fabric connect at ultrasonically welded seams and incorporate extremely low-profile zippers to keep viscous drag to a minimum.

Swimsuits That Don’t Drag

When the swimsuit manufacturer Speedo wanted its LZR Racer suit to have as little drag as possible, the company turned to the experts at Langley Research Center to test its materials and design. The end result was that the new suit reduced drag by 24 percent compared to the prior generation of Speedo racing suit and broke 13 world records in 2008. While the original LZR Racer is no longer used in competition due to the advantage it gave wearers, its legacy lives on in derivatives still produced to this day.

Trilion Quality Systems worked with NASA’s Glenn Research Center to adapt existing stereo photogrammetry software to work with high-speed cameras. Now the company sells the package widely, and it is used to analyze stress and strain in everything from knee implants to running shoes and more.

High-Speed Cameras for High-Speed Shoes

After space shuttle Columbia, investigators needed to see how materials reacted during recreation tests with high-speed cameras, which involved working with industry to create a system that could analyze footage filmed at 30,000 frames per second. Engineers at Adidas used this system to analyze the behavior of Olympic marathoners' feet as they hit the ground and adjusted the design of the company’s high-performance footwear based on these observations.

Martial artist Barry French holds an Impax Body Shield while former European middle-weight kickboxing champion Daryl Tyler delivers an explosive jump side kick; the force of the impact is registered precisely and shown on the display panel of the electronic box French is wearing on his belt.

One-Thousandth-of-an-Inch Punch

In the 1980s, Olympic martial artists needed a way to measure the impact of their strikes to improve training for competition. Impulse Technology reached out to Glenn Research Center to create the Impax sensor, an ultra-thin film sensor which creates a small amount of voltage when struck. The more force applied, the more voltage it generates, enabling a computerized display to show how powerful a punch or kick was.

Astronaut Sunita Williams poses while using the Interim Resistive Exercise Device on the ISS. The cylinders at the base of each side house the SpiraFlex FlexPacks that inventor Paul Francis honed under NASA contracts. They would go on to power the Bowflex Revolution and other commercial exercise equipment.

Weight Training Without the Weight

Astronauts spending long periods of time in space needed a way to maintain muscle mass without the effect of gravity, but lifting free weights doesn’t work when you’re practically weightless. An exercise machine that uses elastic resistance to provide the same benefits as weightlifting went to the space station in the year 2000. That resistance technology was commercialized into the Bowflex Revolution home exercise equipment shortly afterwards.

Want to learn more about technologies made for space and used on Earth? Check out NASA Spinoff to find products and services that wouldn’t exist without space exploration.   

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[badsweetangel]

Could you do billy loomis where he tries to cheat on sidney with the reader but the reader would reject him

Warnings: Obsession, toxic dynamics blah blah blah you know hahahahaha

He couldn't deny that he was angry. He had been chasing you. Running after you. Adapting to your every whim all the time, just to get you at least once. But you decided to reject him the day you realized he wasn't single, but was dating Sidney. At that very moment, you walked away from him and never spoke to him again.

He was pretty upset that day.

He was on the verge of getting you, of having you for himself and you slipped out of his hands when you found out about Sidney. But unfortunately he couldn't get her out of this matter, it was important that Sidney believed that he was in love with her. So he couldn't just dump her like he had done with other girls before.

And he was pretty upset about that.

But he was upset with you too. He hated feeling rejected and you did. So that only increased his obsession with you. He followed you everywhere, fantasized about touching you. He didn't understand how you did it, but he thought about you quite a bit, from sinful thoughts to ideas that inside his fucked up mind he could consider romantic.

And that was strange.

He was a lonely man, a dangerous man who sought revenge and who was hugely interested in making people feel pain.

And yet, he couldn't forget you.He spied on you while you were at home, those times when you saw other guys. He was dying of jealousy. It was strange to you how each one of them woke up dead afterwards.

Yet you never stopped.

That meant that deep down, you could be like him. And he would live every damn second to prove it.

You don't even have any idea how much he wanted to have you. You're so oblivious to the thought that Billy had already forgotten about you. So damn innocent.

But son Sidney wouldn't be there and you'd have no choice but to be with him.

However, you began to rule his mind. There was never a moment when he didn't think about you, when you weren't on his mind. He was more obsessive than before. That wasn't a good thing. When he kissed Sidney, he thought about you. Every damn moment.

He didn't feel comfortable with himself being controlled.

So one day, among other nightly surveillance he did at your house, he came dressed as Ghostface, determined to end your existence. Maybe that way he could forget about you completely. He kept a watchful eye from your window, remembering his plan over and over again. It would be perfect. You had done enough bad things to him anyway: you rejected him and then you went on with guys, you didn't talk to him or look at him anymore and you seemed to forget about him without ever realizing that he was following you.

And he didn't like feeling ignored.

Remembering those moments, he gripped the handle of his knife tightly. He was so upset.

If he kept pretending that he wasn't bothered by your actions, he would become a weak man who would only live for your damn whims.

And he couldn't stand it.

Suddenly, he saw something that made his crotch harden. You stripping in front of the mirror and leaving your clothes on the floor. The desire that was blocked by his rage, came back… his desire, his lust and his passion for you. He could even hate you if he wanted to. But he needed to hear your moans and your words telling him that you were his. He needed it. It's like this was really your game. He thought for a moment. He tried to get strong, taking his phone to call you with his voice changer and start his game, which would inevitably end in your death. But it was already clear to him that you had already started your own game.

And it seemed like you had won.

He put his voice changer near his mouth and on his phone he dialed your number.

However, his erection did not stop. Neither did his desire and his obsession. So, he thought for a moment longer.

He put down his voice changer and stopped typing your number. Sidney would be dead anyway. And he could try to change your mind again.

He shook his head.

He wouldn't try. You would definitely change your mind and be his. Only his. Until when he wanted.

Probably forever.

[ghostreblogging]

Omg like I had this dream about it yesterday. So what if batfam decided nope we're gonna ghost proof this house. And in the way they did it, they didn't use blood blossoms, ectoranium etc (blood blossoms are extinct and hard to find in large quantities and ectoranium is a space metal that nobody knows exist yet or confused with kryptonite) They used magic, so it's little less noticable.

And Tim decides to Invite his new friend over, aka Danny Fenton . Said friend refuses to touch anything while there. He wouldn't sit, eat food, or touch any of the occupants. And when he finally accidentally touches something, the spell works and he is captured with glowing chains or straight up thrown back into the infinite realms.

Danny finally has time for normal teenager shit. He managed slowly go through the bureaucratic shithole that is the infinite realms politics and he managed to come out with his sanity intact. Phantom is no longer a menace but a hero that tragically gave himself up to seal all of the Infinite realms (that is kinda true he did go through a nightmare to make sure ghosts didn't attack the living world and had to do the equivalent of centuries worth of paperwork to do that.)

And all things considered ghosts are a thing of the past for most people. ( He hopes that the ones he allows through keep their oaths and stay hidden)

And he can finally be a normal teenager again, albeit in Gotham of all places. But the death in the city masks his more inhuman traits and he really didn't wanna go through another paper work stuff to register himself as a meta without the meta gene, he would have to do that later though.

But he can do that later, he's on a vacation and he's not doing that.

-_-_-_-

He is standing in the doorway. People around him are getting their umbrellas and sadly he doesn't have one. He was debating internally if he should just go or go back to the lost and found for an umbrella.

He was waiting for Tim as he agreed to come for dinner. The car ride to the Wayne manor was calm, filled with few words.

All changed when he came to find the whole manor was covered in intricate magical circles and traps. He saw atleast few that straight up sent him to the dark parts of the realms and he didn't want to touch that. And as much as he wanted to straight up escape, Tim had been asking for multiple days.

So as much as he wanted to flee, his social skills are shit and he didn't want to risk the awkwardness afterwards.

So he tried his best. Didn't touch the ground floated slightly above it, didn't touch the furnitures cuz apparently it was considered part of the house, couldn't touch the walls. Couldn't even touch the residents before setting the alarms off.

He thinks he pulled it off. Of course he pulled it off everything was going smoothly and he just has to make sure he has everyone in the room in his sights and float a bit. Well until the actual dinner. He couldn't touch the food and he looked quite akward so much so Tim whispers to him.

"You okay? You aren't touching your food."

"Oh I'm okay, it's just-" before he could even start with his sorrowful excuses, someone someone grabs his arm, again it wouldn't have been a problem too it would only raise the alarm, until he is pushed down into the chair thus triggering multiple traps .

Big golden chains appear and he is arleady out of the chair by then. He opens a window and turns to say sorry but he accidentally trips over another trap and is pulled into the realms. He should probably cross Tim out of his list of friends.

-_-_-_-

Tim's friend just fell through a portal, should probably call Constantine about that.

Dick was the first one to speak up after the silence that incued.

"Did we just banish Tim's new friend to the shadow realm?"

"Wait why did he trigger the alarm? He didn't seem all that ghostly, was he like Jason"

"Probably. We probably won't see him again, do we just. . . Push the blame onto Constantine?"

" We are heroes-"

"And how the heck are we supposed to enter the realms anyway? And escape! Constantine greatly expressed that portal was one way only"

*Tommorow*

They see Danny just waltzing through Gotham and they pull him aside.

"What the fuck. You got pulled into the shadow realm yesterday! How do you even trigger the alarms"

Danny who arleady went through the five stages of denial and how tf am I gonna explain "oh you see i am a warlock of....uhhhh

I didn't think this far

OH PHANTOM. THE GREAT PHANTOM"

And after a very stressful meeting with batman and the entire JL dark members cuz apparently his alter ego became a big deal without his agreement.

Where he

Had to speed learn how to create duplicates

Had to fight off a few ghost lawyers cuz they wanted to be a part of "the very important meeting of importance"

Got asked to do magic (he's still learning okay?)

He panicked tried to sell one of his powers as a spell or him just having the copy of his patrons power.

More people got worried about him supposedly creating a contract with a very powerful new unknown diety

Got into the JL dark as a warlock

People apparently trusts him now???? As FENTON??????

Apperantly showing off weaker version of patrons power was a bad idea cuz he greatly overestimated the power limit.

He is a powerful warlock of a powerful "demon"?

WHAT THE FUCK DO U MEAN I- MY PATRON IS NOT A DEMON

"so what is he"

Uhhhhhh a guardian spirit?

Uunhuun soo it's phantom right.?? Leme do some research

WHAT DO U MEAN PHANTOM IS APPARENTLY A GOD AND IS KNOWN GLOBALY FOR BEING THE GOD OF HEROES??

Wait . . . . Clockwork. Oh my god.

Now he is the number one call up magic person for the bats now.

[octuscle]

Gold and coal

Johannes was a passionate influencer. When he felt like it. Actually, he only called himself an "influencer" because it sounded better than "slacker" or "professional son". He actually made a good living from his parents' money, which he spent at parties, shopping and traveling.

"So, what do you think of my cute new hat? I found it at this very cool market here in Ankara. It goes well with the necklace, doesn't it?" There were fewer likes on the picture than usual. Comments instead. Critical comments. Why he suddenly has such a beard. Johannes grabbed his chin. He had no beard, he had no beard growth at all. And he had carefully retouched the picture before posting it on Instagram. There had been no beard. But still: the photo above the caption clearly showed a beard…

He would have to deal with it later. Johannes had a full schedule. Working out at a gym, which surprisingly enough actually wanted to pay him, a visit to a Turkish bath and cocktails and dinner at a trendy rooftop bar in the evening. Even though Johannes was a hedonist, he was usually well organized and punctual. But at the gym, his schedule started to slip. He trained harder and longer than usual. He felt full of energy. And the traditional Turkish bath and hammam were fantastic. He met super interesting people there. Surprisingly, in the two weeks he had been traveling around Turkey, he had picked up more Turkish than he thought he would. He struck up conversations with people and they got on with each other using their hands and feet. Actually, he should have been up on the roof terrace, styled and with a gin and tonic in his hand, when he left the Turkish bath with a real Turkish stallion. The two of them had shagged like Johannes had never shagged before in his life. Johannes' hair was still oily from the scalp massage. He was sweating. His stallion asked him if they wanted to have another cup of tea and a shisha. They did. And then Johannes was fucked again in the stallion's apartment!

"as-salāmu ʿalaikum, brothers! Today will be a great day. I'm going on a tour of the insider tips in Ankara with my brother Hakan today. But now it's time to pray. salla Allahu 'alaihi wa sallam."

There was a hail of question marks as comments. Friends asked whether he had gone mad. But he also received positive feedback. Because of his style. Because of his faith. These comments were mostly in Turkish or Arabic. Both languages that Johannes (or Yahya, as he called himself here) understood more poorly than well. But he recognized praise in every language!

Hakan and Yahya had a great day. In public, they were the typical machos, but Hakan knew the places in Ankara where there was good, hard sex. Yahya sucked a minister's cock in the station toilet. And got 200 US dollars for an obviously good performance. Enough money for a good evening in the hammam and a good shisha afterwards.

The apartment that Hakan and Yahya shared was small and stuffy. The housing shortage in Ankara was no different to anywhere else in Turkey. But thanks to their small extra income, they at least had three rooms. Pure luxury for two people.

For Yahya, Instagram and other social media were actually just full of sin and Western decadence. But of course they were important media for receiving news from his brothers. His own account existed. Nothing more. He followed a handful of fellow believers who posted frequently, but he didn't really have any followers himself. He still had an old account from his school days. His name was still Johannes. But he hadn't looked in there for years.

Working at the bazaar as a porter was hard and exhausting. But the bazaar was full of niches where you could earn money with services that his sheikh shouldn't know about. Although Hakan thought he had shagged the sheikh before. But Yahya didn't really believe that. But he didn't really care… The main thing was that he and Hakan had enough money and fun. They prayed for that. Not necessarily five times a day. But about ten times a week. If they sucked more cock, they prayed more often. And Yahya sometimes had to pray very often. He was grateful that he didn't stand out too much with his hairy body and bushy beard. But the blond hair was exotic. And many customers were willing to pay a lot for sex with a blond Muslim.

Yahya and Hakan were minor celebrities in the bazaar. Firstly, because they were oil wrestlers on their way to competing against each other for the title of national champion. On the other hand, because they were only simple porters. But they knew every corner, every trader and always knew everything. "Ask Yahya or Hakan!" was a common saying if you wanted to know anything. Or if you wanted a special service. But they didn't talk about details in the bazaar.

Pics made by @ki-kink

[rubra-wav]

Taking care of the main cast while they're sick

Cw: SFW, gn!reader, platonic, very briefly suggestive in Angel's, in the order of who gets sick first - last

<< [ Part 1 ]

Charlie

- She's truly a wet cat when she gets sick.

- Will not stop crying and being emotional the whole time. She hates not being able to sing or go out and about.

- Is even more emotional when you volunteer to take care of her as you're no longer as likely to get sick again.

- She's so happy she's not gonna be all alone.

- She hates being locked away in her room and not being able to participate in group activities.

- Insists they still go on without her like she's about to die from not being able to be there with them.

- Charlie spends the whole time wrapped up in a blanket in bed and watching kids' movies. I hope you like Disney movies, because she won't put on anything else.

- Says they make her 'heart' feel not sickly like she is.

- You will be cuddling her because if not, she won't stop sobbing. Vaggie is keeping her distance from her because she doesn't want to get sick too.

- I hope you're also ready to get your ear talked off by a very passionate dreamer who's been under house lock for a week because oh boy.

- For the last few days, she's gonna be trying to leave her room or convince you to let her leave. She's going antsy and stir-crazy by the end of it.

- She's extremely clingy to you as you're essentially her caretaker for the week she's sick.

- Eventually Vaggie caves in to ger girlfriend, and takes over for you anyways. Then Vaggie catches it. 💀

- Apologetic afterwards to you.

Vaggie

- She's disappointed but not really surprised.

-Probably the best and most composed of all of them when she gets sick.

- She doesn't too much like being seen sick as it makes her feel vulnerable, but when you assure her you don't think any less of her she's a lot less stiff about you being there.

- She will just chill in her room the whole time, probably reading or writing notes to remind her to do stuff when she gets out.

- The whole time she just sighs, sounding extra irritated and absolutely done with life.

- She needs to sit in darkness most of the time because she keeps getting migraines.

- Will absolutely insist she can look after herself and that she doesn't need someone near her at all times like Charlie.

- Will accept you bringing her food, helping with her duties guarding, and bringing her reports about what's gone on around the hotel.

- Really appreciates the reports actually.

- By the end of it she's considering bringing you on to possibly permanently help her out because you absolutely would be helpful.

- Most of her socialisation energy is taken up by Charlie, so she's very likely just gonna wanna be left on her own through most of it.

Niffty

- Despite being told not to, Niffty goes into the room's of those who are sick to clean, and that's how she gets sick.

- An absolute fucking nightmare to look after. It's not just you, it's also Vaggie who needs to keep her at bay.

- She doesn't understand 'rest' and 'quarantine', those do not exist.

- There will have to be a 24/7 watch on her to keep her in her room because my God, she does not sleep and stays just as insane but becomes delirous.

- Will be there barely able to stand and still cleaning.

- You will literally have to pick her up and carry her kicking back to her room.

- The only way to get her to go sleep is to get her a tranquiliser.

- There's a greatly annoying back and forth between Alastor, you and Vaggie as Alastor has the tranquilliser she usually has but just refuses.

- Thank christ when Angel just goes 'fuck this' and gets another type like it to knock her out.

- After that it's better. Niffty becomes extremely clingy to you or Vaggie while she's sedated. Vaggie walks out after the solution is found, leaving you to take care of her on your own.

- So you just cuddle her while doing whatever you have brought to do in her room.

- Afterwards she's probably gonna be clinging to you extra. She's imprinted on you during this period low-key

- It's exhausting, and you don't succeed in stopping her from spreading germs (which is ironic considering she's supposedly the clean one)

- Pentious, Husk and Angel all get sick in quick succession after Niffty.

Pentious

- His 1800's ass is gonna be so dramatic.

- Not overdramatic, because he's scared for obvious and understandable reasons.

- But still dramatic.

- He's gonna be needing reassurance every three seconds on this, and even then, he's gonna be all weepy.

- Straight up thinks he's gonna die.

- "Bring me out to the garden one last time" type attitude.

- When it becomes clear he's not going to die in approximately 10 seconds, he calms down a bit, but he's still super anxious.

- Will absolutely want to cuddle you (along with his egg boys) while he's still super delirious.

- You gotta like tight hugs because when I say cuddle, I mean he will be full-body wrapping around you with his tail around your legs and arms around your shoulders.

- Denies it happening outright after his temperature comes down, though, and is super embarrassed.

- Cheers up at about the 4 day mark.

- Stays in his room with you and probably just discusses and brainstorms ideas for different kinds of weapons and machines.

- Tbh, after he's not contagious anymore and can leave again, he's probably gonna be jealous that you're no longer giving him as much attention as you were.

Angel

- Oh, he's so mad about it.

- He dodged getting sick off of you, Charlie and Vaggie only to get sick because Niffty refused to stay down.

- The whole time he's also really anxious because he's scared Val is gonna order him to come in while he's unwell and force him to still into the studio to do some weird sickness kink type shit.

- Luckily, Val doesn't reach out at all in the time he's sick.

- Him, Husk and you kinda just chill out together doing stuff like watching movies and talking shit.

- Vaggie orders them to stick together to avoid the chance of infecting anyone a second time, and the whole time you're near them, you need to wear a mask.

- Angel is not a clingy sick person. In fact, he doesn't wanna be cuddled at all (at least in the first few days)

- Doesn't like you seeing him sick because he thinks it's super gross.

- He's getting too hot and then too cold every 3 seconds and is super annoyed over it. Just keeps angrily putting on layers and then taking them off again.

- He doesn't like getting cuddled, but he does like you taking care of him and asking if he needs anything, and you reassuring him he'll get better soon.

- He so rarely gets taken care of in that way, so he absolutely eats it up.

- Probably takes to sarcastically calling you parental nicknames when you tell him he has to take meds/eat/drink whatever.

- He starts going absolutely stir crazy by the end of it as well, he hates being cooped up.

- Very appreciative when he's finally able to gtfo and do stuff again.

Husk

- He's by far the most pissed off about getting sick (that you're aware of at least)

- He kept trying to tell Niffty to go away and go to bed, but she just kept clinging to him.

- The whole time he's unwell, he has to suffer through Alastor laughing at him, which all makes it so much worse.

- Alastor just periodically shows up to bully him, and you need to call Vaggie to kick him out for you.

- Husk does not like you trying to take care of him, and will promptly tell you to fuck off with no hesitation if you start trying to caretake him outside of getting him food and stuff.

- He's also not happy because when he's really delirious, he is actually extremely affectionate.

- The whole time he's running a fever and especially sick, he will be trying to cling to anything around but especially you.

- Does the type of thing during that period that animals do when you stop petting them and they just. Start whining and looking at you pleadingly for more attention.

- He's horrendously embarrassed about it.

- He relaxes a bit when you promise him not to ever bring it up again, but he's still extremely grumpy.

- Especially because he lowkey blames you as you're the root of the sickness, even though you did everything right with isolating and trying to make sure nobody else caught what you had.

- His appreciation is fairly low in comparison to the others.

Alastor

- Sick? Take care of him?

- HA. Funny joke.

- He doesn't get sick.

- At least, that's what he says and is absolutely fucking horrified and furious when he actually does end up unwell.

- He tries to hide it behind him being 'busy' in his radio tower and 'to leave him alone to his devices'

- Will never ever admit he's sick, let alone allow you to truly take care of him. Even the thought fills him with such disgust that his smile almost wavers.

- You don't see or hear from him the whole time, but you can tell he's sick. Some kind of intuition.

- You just bring him stuff to eat, drink and take and leave it outside the door - hauling ass tf away as you knock on the door.

- He still knows you know and are bringing him stuff, and it pisses him off massively.

- He doesn't ever bring it up though afterwards, and if you do? You're gonna suffer ngl.

-

Masterlist

[screamingoverfiction]

So, This Is Love?

Fred Weasley x f!-reader. House mentioned as Slytherin but not super important. Reader isn't described except as having dimples. 18+ Smut ahead. Minors DNI! Not Edited.

I totally didn't start writing this over the summer and then forget about it in my drafts...totally.

Word Count: 4.25k

---------

"You seriously don't have a date?" Madelyn questioned, raising a brow as she continued curling her blonde hair.

"I don't need one. I'll just pick up some bloke on the sidelines if I want to dance," Y/n said, smoothing her dress and checking herself in the mirror a final time.

Y/n had been looking forward to the masquerade ball for a while, eager to be unknown to all, free from her burdens, and able to dance her heart out without worry.

She was now descending the stairs into the common room, her face concealed by a beautiful masquerade mask. Her lips broke into a wide grin. No one could recognize her.

She practically skipped down the halls, not caring about anything or anyone, happy to be free from her life, even for only a night.

When she arrived at the great hall, her eyes went wide in awe. It was beautiful. Colorful banners hung around every wall, and the floor was converted into a ballroom.

She descended the stairs, still smiling from ear to ear. She was unable to hide her joy. It was like she was a little girl again.

She stepped into the great hall, eyes scanning over the seemingly hundreds of students, and she didn't know any of them. It was exhilarating. 

As she looked out the room, her eyes connected with someone else's, a tall boy with beautiful brown eyes and fiery hair wearing a black mask.

She tilted her head with a small smile, and he copied her, the grin on his lips making her heart jump. Y/n raised a brow, and he once again copied her, the silly, childish smile on his lips making her laugh.

She bit back a smirk, glancing around before wading through the crowd, her heart skipping a beat when he made his way toward her as well.

They met in the middle, staring at each other behind masks, neither knowing who the other was. 

"Care to dance?" The boy started, offering his hand, a sly smile twitching on his lips. She knew that voice, somehow- somewhere, but she just couldn't place it.

"You sound familiar," Y/n said, placing her hand in his, her heart rate increasing as he positioned his other on her waist, starting to dance.

His smile widened. He twirled Y/n around to the soft orchestral tune of the song, eyes never leaving her. He didn't know a girl this beautiful existed.

"So do you," He spoke, hand returning to her waist, gaze flickering down to her perfect lips before snapping back to her eyes.

"What's your name?" The boy asked between songs, his brown hues staring deep into hers.

"That ruins the fun. Don't you think?" Y/n laughed, flashing him her infamous grin, her dimples shining through. 

He swore he knew that smile, those dimples…

"I suppose you're right," The boy replied, smirking, sliding his hand into hers once again as the song started.

They danced for what seemed like hours, song after song, asking each other various questions between the music, wishing the moment would never end. Yet, by the end of the night. Neither had a clue who the other was.

"Attention, students," A booming voice Y/n knew as Dumbledore called out over the room, stopping everyone in their tracks.

The boy and Y/n looked up. Brows furrowed in confusion at the headmaster's words.

"At exactly 11 p.m., your masks will no longer be enchanted. You are free to leave before then if you wish to remain anonymous, or the dance will continue for thirty minutes afterward if you wish to stay," Dumbledore announced, causing gasps to leave almost everyone's lips.

Y/n quickly whirled to see the clock. It read 10:49 p.m. She had ten minutes to leave.

She turned back, meeting the boy's gaze. His eyes were unreadable, his handsome features locked in an expression of indecisiveness. 

"I guess we have a decision to make," Y/n said quietly, swallowing thickly and pursing her lips.

They stared at each other silently for a moment, neither having the courage to speak until he finally opened his mouth.

"You can leave if you want," He said, his eyes still curious about who she was, but he wouldn't force it.

Y/n bit her cheek in thought, reminiscing the night, how he made her laugh, his charming and witty personality, and his somehow proper yet clumsy dancing. And it was a plus that he was divinely handsome, even from the little features she could see.

"I don't think I want to," She finally answered, her lips forming into a slight smile.

His eyes visibly lightened, breaking out into a grin; he glanced around before tugging her through the crowd, hand in hand.

He led her outside near the archway into the courtyard, his hand still tightly gripping hers.

"Privacy," He spoke, eyes flickering to her lips, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed.

Y/n stepped closer until they were almost chest to chest, her heart beating incredibly fast. Her hands were resting on his shoulders, eyes unable to leave his.

She glanced at the clock behind him: 10:59. It was now or never.

"Kiss me," She whispered quickly, surprising even herself with the desperation in her voice. 

He didn't hesitate to lean down, crashing his lips against hers, his hand cupping her cheek as the masks magically disappeared from their faces.

But neither pulled back, too entranced by the kiss to even remember to breathe. It was as if their lives depended on the sweet taste of the other's lips.

The boy leaned further into her, his hand on her hips, drawing her in. Y/n parted her lips, welcoming him with equal passion, her hand traveling from his shoulder to the back of his neck, lacing her fingers in his soft hair.

After what felt like hours of kissing, they slowly pulled away, equally terrified of what was to come.

Y/n couldn't open her eyes. Their foreheads rested against each other while they waited for their courage to brew.

He was the first to step back, and then Y/n opened her eyes, finally locking onto his beautiful- beautiful face. 

Her jaw went slack, her expression paling as she stared at his equally mortified face.

Frederick Weasley.

The infamous prankster of Gryffindor, along with his twin. Notorious for picking on Slytherins, Y/n included- not that it wasn't reciprocated, but still. 

Fred Weasley.

"You've got to be fucking with me," Y/n said, stumbling back, an expression of horror taking over her features.

She ran her hands along her face and through her hair, eyes wide while she tried to process exactly what was happening.

Fred could only stand there, shocked, his mouth unable to form a coherent sentence. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

“Anyone but you!" Y/n said again with a groan covering her face and glancing back, making sure that she wasn't hallucinating.

"I should've known from the dimples," Fred finally said with a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away, swallowing thickly.

"You get that if anyone finds out about this, we're dead," Y/n hissed, pointing a malicious finger in his direction.

Fred rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw and leaning against the nearby pillar, an expression of deep thought on his face. His freckles seemed to shine in the moonlight.

"Don't say fucking a word," She spoke sternly, not looking back as she walked away.

"You know, for a second, I thought... Fred sighed, shaking his head, his posture tense.

Y/n froze in her tracks, her eyes softening slightly before returning to a scowl. She turned around, their eyes connected, and she couldn’t keep the mask up any longer.

"In another world, Weasley," Y/n said quietly, but he heard. She could tell by the way his features softened.

He huffed a sour laugh, rubbing his jaw and then running that same hand through his messy red hair, flashing her a quick smile. His brown eyes were lighter now, a twinge of that mischief she knew him for.

"See you around, Y/n," Fred called back, lowering his head and walking in the other direction.

Y/n rolled her eyes, biting back her smile as she walked down the corridor, back to the Slytherin common room, and away from Fred.

Or so she thought.

Before she'd even reached the portrait door entrance, he was sprinting down the hallway, but Y/n didn't hear his rapidly approaching footsteps until he was directly next to her.

She turned her head as he slowed to a stop, cheeks tinted red from running, breathing heavily. His eyes bore an unreadable emotion.

"What are you-?" She started to ask, but his lips were on hers before she could finish, his hands on either side of her face.

The kiss was short and plain, simply testing the waters. He pulled back, swallowing thickly and searching her eyes for any sign of anger, ready to take a slap if needed.

Y/n blinked once, scoffing slightly.

"You're an idiot," She breathed, shaking her head, grabbing him by the collar, and yanking him down until their lips connected.

Fred kissed her back almost immediately, one hand cupping her cheek and the other resting on her hip.

Y/n knew it was wrong, knew that she was putting them both in danger, but oh, how she felt so warm in his embrace.

Her mind was screaming for her to pull away and slap him across the face, but her heart, her body-her soul wouldn't let her.

Y/n always thought there was no room for anyone in her heart except herself, but he was slowly changing her mind, cracking open the stone casing of her soul and weaseling his way inside without lifting a pinky. Many suitors had tried and failed to break down her walls for years, and he'd done it in three hours.

Gathering her thoughts, she pulled away, wide-eyed and dazed. Her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath she took.

Fred stared into her eyes with a soft, warm sincerity she'd only seen in movies and read about in fictitious novels, and now it was real. She wasn’t thinking coherently anymore. She wanted him, and he wanted her. 

Why couldn’t they have each other?

They were practically running through the Slytherin common room, trying and failing to shield Fred’s identity from the other students.

“I’m pretty sure at least three first years saw us,” Fred whispered to her as they reached the top of the steps.

“Fuck. I’ll just scare them into not snitching,” Y/n sighed, peering down the hall before unlocking her dorm.

Fred laughed at her mumbles, smiling wickedly as she pulled him inside the dorm with her by his tie.

Their lips met before the door was even shut. Fred had to quickly push it shut before deepening the kiss.

His hands were on her hips, inviting her into his arms, which she eagerly accepted. Fred spun them around, pressing her back to the door.

Y/n couldn’t suppress the small, almost whimper-like gasp that escaped her lips when his lips trailed down her jaw.

Fred smirked against her skin, softly kissing and biting her exposed throat, leaving hickeys and open-mouthed kisses wherever he could.

Her breaths were more so moans and pants at this point. Her eyes closed to bask in the pleasure of his lips.

He skillfully lowered to his knees, propping her legs over his shoulders, her dress bunched to almost her waist.

Their eyes met again. Hers looked down at him through hazy lust and his piercing into hers with burning desire.

“May I?” Fred asked, gently tracing circles and kissing her inner thighs, waiting for her permission.

Y/n quickly nodded, the yearning heat in her core already pooling wetness in her panties.

“I need words, angel. Please,” He said again. Those warm pools of brown were entirely focused. Not a single thought behind them wasn’t about her.

Y/n closed her eyes, knocking her head back and swallowing thickly before slipping her eyes to his again.

“Yes, Fred, please,” She whispered, choking down her pride and letting herself fall apart for him.

Fred smirked, lowering himself further down and cupping her heat. The sudden jolt of her body and the gasp she emitted made his cock strain against his trousers.

The apex of his palm pressed into her clothed clit, making her bite back moans. His lips attacked her inner thighs, marking hickeys, and then kissing them better.

“So wet, and I haven’t even touched you,” He murmured into the soft flesh of her thighs. Oh, how he could die a happy man between her legs.

Y/n hand flew to his hair, lacing her fingers in the red strands as his lips made their way to the place she wanted them most.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of her underwear, slowly pulling them down in an almost teasing manner.

Y/n clenched her jaw, glaring down at Fred as he smirked back, his grin widening at her disdain.

“If you want me to do something, all you have to do is ask nicely,” He spoke, quirking a brow and rolling his tongue along his cheek to hide his enjoyment.

Y/n huffed, shaking her head and shoving her shame into a deep dark corner.

“Do something…please,” She replied in an almost whisper.

“What was that? Speak up, love,” Fred said, even though he’d heard her every word.

“Oh fuck off you-” She started, but he cut her off with his tongue, slipping it inside her aching slit.

Y/n let out a loud, gasping moan, knocking her head against the door and arching herself further into Fred.

“Shh. I thought you didn’t want the others hearing us?” Fred cooed, a hint of mischief lacing his tone.

His tongue worked against her clit, flicking over the sensitive little bud while he slipped a finger inside her entrance, adding a second once after a few moments, curling them up against her g-spot.

“Fuck you,” Y/n breathed, her mouth hanging open as his tongue and fingers worked magic between her legs.

Fred smiled into her cunt, hitting the perfect places with each stroke and thrust, tongue lapping up the juices of her arousal as they leaked from her needy cunt. One of her hands was in his hair, the other covering her mouth to muffle the erotic sounds threatening to spill from her lips.

Suddenly, the knob beside her hip began to turn, making her quickly uncover her mouth and stop whoever it was from coming inside.

Fred quickly shot up at the noise, his eyes going wide.

“What the hell-? Y/n, are you in there?” Madelyn called from the other side of the door, jiggling the knob again.

“Uh, yeah, but I’m uh-” Y/n tried to think of an excuse, but nothing came to mind. She looked down at Fred for help, but his lips simply turned into an evil smirk. Pressing a finger to his lips before continuing to eat her out, flattening his tongue and running it up her slit to her clit before closing his lips around the nub and sucking.

Y/n gasped out, clasping a hand over her mouth before uncovering it to hold the door again.

“Hold on. Are you getting fuck-”

“Madelyn, I think you should find someplace else to sleep!” Y/n shouted, cutting Madelyn off.

Y/n heard a snort from the other side, along with a mumble of something incoherent.

“Enjoy your night, Y/n. Don’t get pregnant,” Madelyn snickered, walking down the hall without another word.

“You are a complete and utter imbecile-” Y/n hissed at Fred, moaning out in pleasure as his fingers hit her g-spot, her gummy walls clenching around his lanky digits as she neared her orgasm.

The knot in her core was tightening faster than she could comprehend. It was burning and coiling- seconds away from breaking.

“Freddie-” She whimpered his name, her fingers tightly gripping his hair, making him smile against her cunt, his brown eyes staring up at her with mischief and lust.

The knot in her stomach snapped. Her legs tried to close around his head as her back arched against the door. The waves of pleasure coursing through her veins enough to make her eyes roll into her head.

Fred forced her legs apart, letting her ride out her high, his tongue lazily stroking her clit as her thighs shook with pleasure, chin dripping with her juices.

Y/n swallowed, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she struggled to regain her breath. One of her hands was still in his hair, loosely grasping it.

She lowered her eyes, looking at him through a hazy lidden gaze. His hair was messy and falling over his forehead, his tie was now loose, hanging half-hazardously around his neck, and his eyes were staring into hers with pure passion and devotion.

“Hi,” Y/n spoke. Her mascara was runny and smudged, and her forehead had a slight shine of sweat, but Fred thought she was beautiful. He was completely and utterly enamored.

Fred laughed, smiling up at her and shaking his head, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiles.

“Hi,” He replied, setting her carefully back onto her legs and rising to his full height, looking down at her once again.

There was silence for a moment, and then Y/n brought her hand to the back of his neck, connecting their lips.

Fred kissed her back, lifting her into his arms again and carrying her to the closest bed.

“Ah- no, this is Madelyn’s,” Y/n quickly said.

Fred rolled his eyes and carried her to the other, setting her down before hovering overtop and kissing her deeply.

Y/n started unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling with the buttons until she could remove it from his body.

Fred threw the shirt, not caring where it ended up. Y/n’s hands ran down his torso, tracing from his broad shoulders to his abs. It was safe to say he was muscular and toned with muscles, but not obnoxiously.

Y/n kissed along his jawline as he unzipped her dress, leaving a hickey directly on his jaw.

“If you get me a detention-” Fred muttered as he started to drag her dress down her shoulders. 

“Oh, hush,” Y/n spoke, tenderly kissing the fresh bruise and leaning back to admire her work.

If she were a patient woman, she’d take her time to kiss every freckle dotted across his pale skin, but her mind was clouded with lust. She’d kiss them later.

Y/n finished taking off her dress, not caring where it fell to. Fred was kissing along her throat, one hand snaking around her back, unclipping her bra with concerning skill and tossing it to the side.

“Done this much?” She inquired, smirking when he lifted his gaze to hers.

“I’ve had my fair share of practice,” Fred replied, matching her teasing energy. Reaching forward to her face, he brushed a stray piece of her hair away, smiling softly.

Their eye contact felt intimate, as if it meant more than a night of lust. 

“Fred,” Y/n said quietly, her hand reaching up, fingers dancing along his jaw.

“Yeah?” Fred answered. Even if he didn’t know it, he was completely, and utterly hers. It was as if she’d enchanted him.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” Y/n whispered, brushing her thumb along his cheekbone. Her pupils dilated, longingly staring into his eyes, his beautiful eyes.

Fred swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his mouth opened to speak- but no words left his lips. He couldn’t answer her. There were no words to describe how he felt.

So instead of speaking, he dipped down, connecting their lips again, kissing her with so much force and passion that their teeth clashed together, but neither seemed to care.

Her makeup was a lost cause at this point. Her lipstick was smeared everywhere, across his lips, along his cheek, and down his jawline.

His hands ran along her body, massaging her chest, his mouth leaving hers to start kissing her breasts, tongue flicking over sensitive nipples, teeth nipping softly.

“Oh- Fred-” She mewled, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, hand lacing into his hair, small sharp whimpers flying from her lips.

Fred groaned as she reached down to his trousers, her fingers hooking into his belt loops and pulling him even closer.

He skillfully unbuckles his belt with concerning ease, tossing it to the floor and returning his lips to hers.

Y/n pushed her hips up against Fred’s bulge, still covered by his boxers, and he couldn’t help but rasp out a low noise from his throat, almost a moan.

Y/n slid her hands down his toned abdomen, her nails lightly scratching his v-line as she dipped her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, starting to tug them down impatiently.

Fred lets out a breathy laugh at her impatience and quickly helps her pull his boxers off, freeing his already-hardened cock. The red tip leaking pre-cum.

Y/n’s eyes widen slightly. She expected him to be above average, but not this big- he was at least 8.5 inches in length with a pretty sizable amount of girth as well as a slight curve to the right. 

Fred noticed her expression and laughed, taking her chin in his hand and bringing her lips back to his as he hoisted one of her legs up over his shoulder, the head of his cock teasingly rubbing up and down her slit, bumping at the hood of her clit.

Y/n let out a soft whine, biting her lip and pressing her cheek against Fred’s freckled shoulder as she bucks her hips against his dick, practically begging for him to thrust inside. 

“Fred, please-” Y/n says breathlessly, her leg hooking around him.

Fred, detecting her neediness, kisses her on the cheek before slowly and gently easing his cock into her wet and aching pussy, but no matter how ready she thought she was the stretch of his size made her tense up. 

“Fuck- you’re tight. You gotta relax f’me, sweetheart,” Fred says through gritted teeth, the squeezing of her walls around his cock almost enough to make him burst on the spot.

Y/n lets out a shaky breath, adjusting to his size and letting out a moan as he pushes all the way in, her insides feeling so full as he starts to move. 

Fred thrusts in and out of her cunt at a moderate pace, not wanting to hurt her by being too rough. It was her first time taking a cock this large.

The head of his cock nudges against her g-spot just right, causing her to let out a string of whimpers and whines, occasionally bumping against her cervix, which was only slightly painful. His pelvis grinding against her clit in just the right way to stimulate the bud.

“F-Faster-” Y/n says in an exasperated voice, needing Fred to go faster, her second orgasm already building in her stomach, the white-hot feeling causing her to curl her toes

Fred doesn’t hesitate to follow her command, picking up the pace and groaning against her neck as she clenches around his cock, telling him she’s close to finishing, as is he.

“Fuck- Y/n. I don’t think I can last much longer-” Fred manages to say through heavy breaths, sweat rolling down his skin as he grips the sheets until his knuckles go white.

The sound of skin slapping together consumes the room as Fred’s thrusts become more sloppy and desperate as he nears his orgasm, his breathing uneven and rushed.

“Ah- Fred, I’m coming-” Y/n says, her climax building up fast and crashing over her hard, back arching, hips spasming against his as her legs shake. Her eyes seemed to roll into the back of her head as the hot waves of pleasure hit her like lightning.

Fred finishes a few seconds after, barely managing to pull out before he comes, hot ropes of white cum shooting from his cock onto her stomach as he rides out his high.

Fred collapses beside her, both of them breathing heavily as they recover from the previous activity. 

Fred is the first to rise, grabbing his boxers and sliding them on before kissing Y/n softly on the forehead. He walks to the bathroom and grabs a towel, wetting it with warm water. 

The feeling of a warm damp towel on her stomach jolts Y/n from her little trance, and she looks up at for a moment Fred as he cleans her up before laying back down with a tired sigh. 

Fred simply smiles and sighs, biting his cheek as he gets up and starts to root through her closet for a shirt she can wear to bed, finding one with a picture of a Hippogriff on it and then handing it to her so she can slip it on.

Y/n lays in her bed, makeup a disaster and her hair a mess, but Fred thinks she could never be more beautiful.

“Are you staying?” Y/n asks from her bed, finally managing to sit up, drinking the glass of water Fred had fetched for her. 

“I can if you want me to,” Fred says, stopping in the middle of gathering his clothes, not expecting her to want him to stay.

Y/n bites her lip and shifts a little on the bed her face flushing slightly as she murmurs. “I want you to,”

----

Hope you all enjoyed it and have a wonderful day!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello, could you do, gummigo x wife reader, where the two say goodbye before gummigo leaves with his brothers, to steal Maple Syrup from the Kingdom of Candy Canyon, but when they fall off the map with Pomni, he tells him about the reader Afterwards, when Caine kills Gummigo, I think, the team goes on an adventure again to the same place as Candy, but he finds the village where Gummigo lived. Pomni goes to look for Readee to tell her, and when he finds her, The reader invites her to come to the house, where Pomni discovers that they both had a baby, and Pomni doesn't know how to tell the reader.

pomni visiting npc!gummigoos wife!reader after caine poofs gummigoo

short post! not much to say here in the beginning notes lmao notes: reader is gn, maybe afab due to the baby but one can assume they dont have to be given digital world physics + npc stuff Cws: guilt

one can assume that gummigoo still exists, just poofed and sent back to the void waiting for when he needs to be used once more. though i personally think that if he were to return, he would not remember anything that happened in episode 2... so lets explore two ideas in this post! ill divide each by a gap

assuming gummigoo does not return in the quest that involves the reader, and pomni stumbles upon you and sees your child... oh god she feels so horrible. as far as she knows shes doomed gummigoo- and that he no longer exists. ragathas reassurance that he may come out again did little to comfort her

she cant bring herself to be around you for long

she wants to tell you, she feels like she needs to- but you talk like everything is perfectly fine. of course you would, you werent sentient. you had all of these false memories. to you gummigoo had only been gone for a short period, off trying to get the syrup to save your village

ultimately i feel like pomni may swallow her guilt, what if she told you what happened and the exact same thing happens to you? poofed. she wouldnt let you go to the circus, but does that really matter? does this place still exist when the circus members are there?

its all so suffocating, she cant stand it. and the fact that youre trying to ask her whats wrong only makes her feel worse- she feels like shes going to puke

she likely holes herself up in her room as soon as the adventure ends, trying to recover.. its not going to get easier, is it?

but on the chance that gummigoo is around once more, just without his memories of... everything he experienced that day..

its not much better, but at least pomni can try to convince herself that at least he still exists- even if not consciously. it kills her a little inside to see the three of you interact with each other

completely unaware that you arent real people

you talk about how your child is the light of your life

but theyre just lines of code

the visit is brief, she doesnt find much of a reason to stick around

theres still the thought in her mind, almost telling her that shes obligated to tell you and your family everything thats going on

but you look so peaceful and shes not sure she can handle shattering your reality and just leaving you all alone- she has to go back to the circus eventually and shes learned her lesson that she cant bring any of you with her

similarly, the idea of "do you even exist when you arent needed" plagues her mind- would telling you and leaving you here do anything? would you all just forget again? that feels... needlessly cruel

[drdemonprince]

Do you have any favourite scary movies?

I love the ambiguity and grief of The Orphanage, and the main character's emotional journey is absolutely gutting.

The Strangers has some of the most subtle, dread-inducing scares of any horror film of its era; if you liked the hidden ghosts in Mike Flanagan's Haunting of Hill House, it owes some inspiration to this film, I think. It truly gave me nightmares.

The newer Suspiria has really stayed with me, and I loved Flawed Peacock's analysis of the film on Youtube as well. I watched both this and the original back-to-back a few months ago, and they're both great in different ways, but nothing tops the haunting, sickening beauty of the end of this one.

28 Days Later is the only zombie movie for me, and yes part of that is because Cillian Murphy was so fuckable in it. I'll never forget the quiet, contemplative air of this movie, which is rivaled only by The Last of Us games. The zombie genre is bloated with derivative crap, but this movie rang in a whole new generation, and did it so well you don't need most of the rest.

The original Saw is a hell of a stage-play-slash-bottle-episode, and it's far more sophisticated in its writing than any of the rest in the series. It really holds up in my opinion.

The Cell isn't really that scary, to me, but it's fucking cunty as hell with incredible costumes and set pieces, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Bonus points for having a minor corruption/hypnosis aspect really tickled my imagination. I just wish that element had lasted for longer.

Speaking of movies that are actually plays -- there's no better Stephen King adaptation than Misery. Kathy Bates absolutely crushes in a nauseating, confining performance here, and the hobbling scene is one you just never forget. To me it's a perfectly paced film, and it holds up shockingly well in the era of stans and superfandoms.

Ghost Ship is my favorite bad stupid horror movie. The opening scene is enough creative nonsense carnage to justify its existence, but stick around through the end for a very weird trip-hop montage.

Dead Silence is another goofy one that gets really inventive with its gore. I love horror movies that do just downright disrespectful, creepy shit with corpses, and that's what this one is all about.

The Boy is a fucking laugh riot to me. The entire premise is so transparent from the very beginning and the thrills are so awkward and tame that it's a great Halloween party movie. If you're anything like me, you and your friends will walk around the house talking about the Boy for days afterward. Brahms is an age regressor king

Some people find Aronofsky's movies to be too over-the-top to connect with, but I think he nailed the internal horror of perfectionism, codependency, sexual repression, and eating disorders with Black Swan. Barbara Hershey's character is so perfectly unsettling that it sets all my people-pleasing, abandonment-fearing issues alight every time. Everything about this movie is confining and distorting, which is exactly how it feels inside when you narrow your entire life to a singular pursuit and are governed by impossible rules.

The Others has exactly what I need for a horror movie to have good replay value: just like The Orphanage, it's final reveal is more depressing and unsettling than it is pure scary, which makes it cut deeper, and it recontexualizes the whole rest of the film. The interiors and aesthetics are great.

Possession is easily the most disturbing movie on this list. This one cuts deep in a confusing, unmooring way -- it makes you feel sick in your soul, hopeless, and put off from relationships. Filming it reportedly ruined Sam Neil & Isabelle Adjani's lives for a good while, and you can see why. This film is the psychological reality of divorce in its unabashed form. To really leave behind a life you once committed yourself to, you have to become almost unrecognizable to yourself, and do great violence to both your former self, and the ones you love. This film gets that, and it's painful. It makes you feel disgusting for wanting things or for staying in a place where you're unhappy.

Happy watching!

[theaskywalker]

hi! I had a small idea with Seth, reader (if you could do fem that would be amazing!) was in Russia for 4 years for her studies, for her coming back. she wanted to Suprise Seth by coming over in his jacket he gave her before she left:) I was thinking in that moment he looked at her (her eyes to be exact) he imprinted on her. (I would love for reader to have really sharp canines, not a vampire but almost like it! that's how my teeth have been and wanted to see someone include it in a fic:)

Seth Clearwater x Fem! Reader

Thank you for the request ghosty-boo-shh! It was an interesting idea and very fun to write. Hope you enjoy it! 😊

❥ You had always been close with Seth Clearwater.

❥ Having grown up in the same neighborhood and with your mothers being best friends it was no surprise that the two of you became practically inseparable.

❥ Sitting together during classes.

❥ Passing notes to each other when the teachers seperated you.

❥ Having lunch at the cafeteria.

❥ Studying together after school.

❥ Spending the weekends chilling at the beach or indoors watching movies and playing video games.

❥ Leah always joked that you acted like a married couple.

❥ Which turned the both of you into blushing fools.

❥ Seth liked to call you his little Dracula due to your extremely sharp canines.

❥ He loved that characteristic about you.

❥ And constantly reminded you of how cool it was.

❥ You in turn called him all sorts of silly nicknames referencing his favourite pop culture elements.

❥ By the time high school rolled up, you had fallen hopelessly in love with your best friend.

❥ You wanted to confess your feelings but the fear of him not returning them kept you silent.

❥ That's when everything changed.

❥ Your impressive academic record had won you a scholarship to attend one of the most prestigious colleges in Russia.

❥ It was your dream to study there and you were ecstatic.

❥ The day before you left, Seth came at your house to say goodbye.

❥ He surprised you by giving you his leather jacket that you had been admiring since the day he bought it.

"Something to remember me while you're at Moscow" he said.

❥ Without thinking you kissed him hard on the lips.

❥ A kiss that he reciprocated after a moment's hesitation.

❥ You confessed your feelings afterwards and Seth did the same.

❥ A long distance relationship wouldn't be easy.

❥ You promised to call him everyday and send emails in-between.

❥ And he promised to wait for you as long as it was needed.

❥ At first the communication between the two of you was daily.

❥ But after several months Seth's responses became less and less frequent.

❥ You didn't understand what caused this change in behaviour.

❥ Phone calls became non existent.

❥ And emails would be replied once a week at most.

❥ You patiently went along with it hoping that everything would go back as normal when you returned to Forks.

❥ After 4 years of studying abroad you finally graduated and made the long journey back home.

❥ The first thing you did after arriving in Forks was to go at Seth's house to surprise him.

❥ You had planned this little surprise beforehand by telling your parents to keep your return a secret.

❥ You even wore the jacket Seth gave you before leaving, thinking it would be nice to show him how much his present meant to you.

❥ Sue Clearwater greeted you warmly and explained that Seth and Leah were at the beach with friends.

❥ You went straight to La Push and saw the Clearwater siblings sitting across a fire roasting marshmallows together with Jacob Black, Quil Ateara and another boy.

❥ Leah was the first of the group to spot you and happily called you over.

❥ You gave Leah a hug and greeted Jacob and Quil, who introduced you to the third boy, Embry Call.

❥ Shyly, you turned to Seth and greeted him with a nervous "hello".

❥ The moment Seth locked eyes with you time freezed and gravity no longer held him in place.

❥ You were equally awestruck and unable to utter a word.

❥ Seth had loved you for years but nothing had prepared him for this extraordinary feeling that took over him.

❥ It was like your soul had touched his in an intimate way and nothing would ever be the same.

❥ Jacob Black broke the silence by asking you and Seth to collect more firewood.

❥ The two of you agreed.

❥ As you silently collected twigs along the beach, Seth noticed the jacket that you wore and grinned.

"You still have it after all those years"

❥ You smiled at Seth and told him that the jacket was a reminder of all the beautiful memories you had together.

"And I hope that it will be the start of many more to come" you added.

❥ Seth looked at you with adoration and claimed your lips in a gentle kiss that gradually grew more passionate.

❥ By the time the two of you made it back to the group with the firewood you were tasked to collect, one thing was certain.

"This is the beginning of something good"

Masterlist

[shroombloomm]

The Dark King*

18+ (mature content warning; choking, air play, spanking, dark themes, murder, blood, obsession.)

11.5k words.

Over the trees laid a thick fog across the top of the greens. The sun was rising over the horizon as the cold air sent goosebumps over anyone who dared to step outside of their homes. At this time of the morning, the birds would chirp to wake everyone up; but they hadn’t done that in decades. Raven didn’t remember the last time that she heard a bird sing in this land anymore. 

Not since He took over. 

Actually, she didn’t remember anything before He took over. 

There were vague memories each time she took a step outside of her door. When Raven would walk past the dead bushes with brittle branches, her dainty fingers would reach out to caress them; a sudden memory of the bluebells that used to sprout from them. This land used to be covered in green grass; it was soft enough to fall back on and feel no pain from the landing. 

The sun used to be warm. Now, when the sun is out, they were more aware of it; but it still felt very cold. Summer and spring no longer existed, only fall and winter. Raven didn’t know how this was possible, but anything was possible. 

Anything in Neverland goes. 

Her only alarm clock she had since Him was the loud poundings on the door. He made sure to send out the guards at half past five every morning. They had a schedule and if anyone was late; well, it wouldn’t have been in their favor. The Dark King didn’t like tardiness, he liked punctuation. 

Raven knew a boy once, his name was Duffy. 

Duffy was late once. 

Once. 

Duffy wasn’t around anymore. 

Raven’s feet hit the hardwood floor with a soft grunt surpassing her lips. The pounding on the door only subsided when she yelled that she was awake. When the sounds of the guard’s feet moved past her door is when she stood from her bed and moved towards her small bathroom made out of rotten planks of wood and leaves. 

Fresh water poured from the spout every morning, it was from the frozen lake. It was the purest water in all of Neverland, but the only problem was that it was only ever one temperature. If she wanted a warm bath, she would have to work for it. 

Raven brushed her teeth with the freezing water, then washed her face with the freezing water, then tried to keep her teeth from chattering afterwards. 

Breakfast at six. She always showed up earlier though. 

That’s why she was His favorite. 

Not a lot of people liked Raven because of that reason. It was unspoken, but everyone knew that she was The Dark King’s favorite. She was everything he wanted of the people of Neverland; she was responsible, she was punctual, and she always went above and beyond for him. 

Despite the poor housing and the bland food given every day. 

She would do anything for her Dark King. 

Raven pulled her trousers up to her waist and buttoned them, then threw her wool sweater on; Duffy had made this sweater for her. In fact, he had made them for everyone one cold winter. She tried to swallow the bile in the throat each time she put it on. 

She missed Duffy, but nobody dared to ever comment about the missing persons of Neverland. 

Doing that is like committing treason. 

Her black hair wrapped tightly around her fingers before she pinned her hair up, then proceeded to exit her small room. The corridors were cold, if it was up to everyone they would forge a fire for these frigid mornings, but there was no room. 

Each room had its own furnace. That was the warmth they were granted after each long day, but during the day they must stay outside in the cold weather and do as they are demanded for their jobs. Raven didn’t mind it. She’d spent three years in Neverland. To the newcomers, she only warned them to keep their bitter complaints to themselves unless they wanted their tongue to be clipped. 

Raven didn’t take lightly to the complaints of her Dark King. 

As she stepped outside of the makeshift dorm, the sun was just barely covering the treetops. This was as much sun as they were going to get if they stayed near the Palace. For anyone who wanted to bask in it would have to travel miles to the frozen lake; that is if they were able to get past the wolves and bears that lingered in the deepest parts of it. 

Raven wasn’t afraid of the animals. She always carried a bow and arrow with her. Hunting was something she did in her spare time, though if caught, would serve a penalty. Red meat was only for high royalty, for the people of Neverland only were served scraps. 

Beans, little bits of pig, and toast. Sometimes even eggs if the chickens felt generous enough to spit out a few. 

“Rise and shine, Raven.” 

Raven turned her head to see her friend, Bode, behind her. She offered a sly smirk. 

“Look who is up early.” She remarked with a snicker. 

Bode always woke up five minutes before he was supposed to be at the dining hall. He would cut it close each time. Raven warned him that she would not be able to save him if he was a second late, but he was so sure about himself. 

“Ha ha,” Bode walked beside her, swinging his arms as he glanced towards her, “Do you know what today is?” 

“Of course I do.” Raven said quietly, swallowing thickly. 

“Do you believe they will make it easy on ole Bootsy?” Bode turned his back to stand in front of her, then proceeded to walk backwards, “I believe his crimes against the king shall serve him a slow, painful death.” 

“Do you believe so?” Raven hummed carefully, she wasn’t much for gossip. 

“I do.” Bode smirked. 

Bootsy was one of their neighbors in the dorms. He dared to enter the Palace to find a drip of wine for a party the people had planned. Bootsy always tended to go overboard with the drinking; he was infamous for being the drunk. On the night of the party, we had ran out of wine and he thought to sneak into the quarters to steal from him. 

In hindsight, it was innocent. 

However, you are not to go against the Dark King, nonetheless steal from him. 

“Bootsy had it coming to him, he was not surprised.” Bode clapped his hands together, turning his back from Raven. 

Ahead, the dining hall was empty, usually a line out the door if you showed up last minute. However, Raven was awfully hungry in the mornings and preferred her food to be warm and readily available when she wanted it. 

“We will see at the execution.” 

Raven dropped the subject after her comment, entering the dining hall. It was warm there, only because of the coal stoves working overtime to cook the breakfast. She rolled her sleeves up, batting her lashes as she was served the same breakfast every morning. 

Beans, toast, and a small egg; poached. 

Of course, with a hot cup of tea to wake up. 

As the room started to fill with people, Raven was already half-finished with her plate. At this time of the morning, she studied the people ahead of her. They sat in their seats, tired, while they either ate their food or enjoyed the hot tea. Some couldn’t stomach the food every morning, but if they were hungry enough, they would eat it. 

The execution was after breakfast. It was easier for those who had a weak stomach not to eat. It was mandatory to attend these, it was a learning lesson for all of them to know the consequences of going against Him. 

Raven finished her food in silence, when she stood to her feet, Bode followed closely behind to discard her tray in one of the bins. Just as she went to refill her hot cup of tea, a loud ruckus came from behind her. 

In the center of the room, a man held a knife to one of the younger teenagers. A shaky hand held a piece of toast; Raven could only guess that he had taken the man’s toast. 

“That’s not good.” Bode frowned. 

“No, tis not.” Raven mumbled, withdrawing her knife from her boot and stomped towards the two of them. 

“Ye stole my toast?!” The older one held the knife tightly to the teen’s neck. 

“I did no such thing, unhand me!” The teen yelled out in anger, thrashing with a sweat. 

Raven pointed her knife at the throat of the older man’s neck and prodded his skin light enough to get his attention. His dark brown eyes glanced back to see the angry woman behind him; a snarl on his lips. 

“There shall not be any fighting in the dining hall.” Raven warned through a light growl. 

“He stole me toast.” 

“Did you see him take your toast?” The knife prodded a bit harder against his skin, if she just barely flicked her wrist it would create a bigger mess onto the floor. 

“No, but–,” 

“Unhand him or I shall hand you over to the guards,” Raven kept her dark gaze on the man, “Have you forgotten the penalty for fighting? Tis the cellar and you shall rot there for laying your hands on this boy.” 

The man stared darkly at the fearful boy. Raven was sweating too, but it wasn’t from the hot air in the room, it was the witness’ of the room. She was now an accomplice. If anyone decided to run to the guards at that moment, she would rot in the cellar as well. 

“L-Let me go–,” The teen boy groaned, there was a bit of blood on his neck from the man’s knife. 

“Ye not worth it, anyhow.” The older one pushed the boy away, putting his knife away as he sent a dark glare to Raven. 

Quickly, she made haste to his side. It was only a prick on his neck, but still the guards would surely question him about the mark. Raven pulled the bag around her body towards her, rummaging through for a clean cloth before dabbing the wound. 

“Are you alright?” She mumbled to the boy. 

“Yes, of course. Sorry ma’am.” He whispered quietly, the toast in his hand crumbling from his grip. 

“Did you take his toast?” 

His eyes fled to the floor, confirming that he stole the older one’s toast. Raven sighed quietly, once done cleaning up the blood, she placed the cloth into his hand and searched his features. 

“I shall not tell,” She fixed his coat as if she was his mother, “Do not steal anymore. Bootsy is an example of what will happen, no matter the object stolen.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He mumbled. 

Raven turned a blind eye to the boy and made her way back to Bode. The teen boy was new; she had only seen his face very few times in the last few days. He did not know the ways, but she always tried to warn the newcomings as much as she could. 

For those who dare come to Neverland, mind you on their own free will, would find out the hard way without Raven. There were no rules, but there were rules. It was a bit unfair not to give out a handbook, but the Dark King liked to play this game with the newcomers. 

“You are lucky the guards are outside the door today,” Bode warned as Raven exited the double doors. 

“They’ll do no such thing to me.” Raven smirked, tossing her knife in the air and catching it by the handle. 

Bode rolled his eyes, “Of course they won’t, but you are getting cocky.” 

“I’ve earned my right.” She said quietly, but still confidently. 

Bode mumbled something, but Raven didn’t care enough to catch the comment. People judged her for admiring the Dark King. In the other world, she was just as twisted as he was; the only difference is now she gets to show it. She was not hungry for power, but she was hungry for dominance. The Dark King saw that in her. 

Though they had only crossed paths twice, she found herself on her knees to bow to him in those times. He did not leave his Palace often, but when he did, it was a big deal. He was the type to gaze over the land, not be a part of it. 

As Raven and Bode walked down the dirt road, they came across the cobblestone that led them into the small town square. This part of the land many did not spend much time in, for they needed money to spend for the vendors, and little did the people have. Though this was a place where the people could meet others and socialize; very few people under the age of fifty came into the square. The elders, however, loved it. 

Raven passed the vendors selling fresh fruits and handmade clothes and ventured into the middle where the people were gathered. She stood by the wall, far from the crowd, with her hood on and eyes wandering darkly around. He would be around for these events. 

To be able to catch a glimpse of Him was a pleasure, any time the opportunity was given. She thrived for it, and it somewhat gave her a feeling of butterflies. 

“Thank you all for gathering!” 

The crowd went silent as the guard announced the beginning of the act. Raven could barely stand these things much anymore. If they’d change it up, perhaps she’d find more interest, but she was never vocal about that. Raven was a bit of a psycho in those terms, finding things such as this, the only entertainment in Neverland. 

They announced the crimes of Bootsy, dragging him out with a sack on his head and nothing but the trousers to hide his bits. He thrashed around in the arms of the guards, throwing him to his knees and placing his head where the guard could get a clean cut. 

Her eyes wandered again; out of the corners, she found a man in a tree. He sat lazily, one leg propped up, the other swinging carelessly as he bit into a red apple. Raven’s eyes lit up, it was He. She went to take a step forward, only for Bode to stretch his hand out to stop her. 

“Where are you going?” 

It took her a moment to answer, she almost didn’t comprehend what Bode had said. The Dark King’s eyes were so green that he could’ve blended perfectly into the woods. He already did, truthfully. He wore a brown robe, hints of green that sparkled without the sun, and long brown hair that curled effortlessly around his face. 

He looked amused while he ate his apple. Raven could taste the thirst on his lips, he thrived for these moments. It was not that he killed people, it was that he awaited those who would cross him just for him to watch them suffer. She imagined what he felt while he watched, if his body was pumping full of adrenaline, or if he was just simply unbothered by it. 

She took another step forward. 

“Raven!” 

“What?” Her head snapped towards her bickering friend. 

“Where are you going?” Bode said slowly, yet stern with tight brows knitted together. 

“Well, I was…” When her eyes went back to the trees, he was gone, and a part of her heart broke. She let out a sigh, flicking her gaze to the beheaded man as the crowd dispersed, “I was going to the apple stand, if you wanted to know so desperately.” 

“You do not eat apples.” 

“I do when you are not six feet up my rear end, Bode.” She snapped at him, annoyed that she missed her Dark King. 

“You have been acting differently as of recent.” He retorted. 

“Then maybe you don’t know me at all.” Raven mumbled. 

- 

After dinner that night, everyone resided in their rooms. Neverland did not have a curfew, however if one were to stay up late, it was best to prepare to stay on schedule for the day. Raven typically went to bed early to restore her energy for the next morning. 

Tonight was different. 

She lingered in the square without Bode. Earlier had created some tension between the two; while she cared for Bode, sometimes he smothered too much for her comfort. The reason she left her home was for the sole reason of suffocation; she wanted something meaningful. 

Neverland was meaningful to her. 

She never looked back when she found this place, not that anyone else dared to either. Neverland was made up of misfits, but they all stuck by each other. Well, the misfits who cared for each other, anyway. 

There were a few bad eggs that crossed the lines that were drawn. 

Raven’s heels clicked against the cobblestone, a hood over her head as a few locks of her hair framed her face and hid herself well. Her fingers gripped onto the cloak, pulling it together before locking the golden buttons together. 

She was not on a mission, nor was she trying to hide. It was the simple fact of that, she herself, learned to cross the drawn lines as well. If she were to get caught, which she’d never had, she would surely get executed. 

Above all rules, there is one that the people must not cross. 

Do not, any under circumstances, climb over the wall. 

Their town was separated from the Palace. If Raven were to stand at a distance, she would be able to see the Palace glow in the night; it was beautiful and made of cement. It was not like their shelters, made of branches and old wood. 

The Dark King’s palace was most beautiful. 

Nobody ever dared to think of sneaking into the Palace. Not until Bootsy. 

However, Raven was stealthy. The nights she had spent hunting without a single branch cracking under her boots, she would make herself a nice meal with potatoes from the ground and deer meat. Of course, she kept that to herself. It was why she was the most healthy compared to others. 

Ahead of her, the large stone wall. Across the wall, there were some stones that stuck out, and some nights she would climb it. Never jump over it. But simply sit on it. Her stiff fingers grabbed onto the stones, placing her feet onto the others steadily as she carefully climbed it without a single worry. The night was silent, she needn’t worry about the vendors; they were closed around this time either way. 

Raven huffed softly, making it to the top without a problem. To the side of her, a tree that she liked to sit on. The branch was thick and strong. She hunched as she stood, balancing on the top of the wall as she quickly rushed towards the tree. One jump, her arms grasped onto the branch and pulled herself up. The draping of the other branches hid her well enough, she would never get caught. 

She’d never gotten caught. 

Her feet pushed her back to sit against the bark of the tree. The view of the Palace was beautiful; the glow was different from her small village, town, however they wanted to call it. Raven’s shoulders slumped carefully, placing a hand in front of her as she laid forward onto her stomach and dangled her legs on either side. 

She never got to see the Dark King from this view, but she liked to imagine it all. She liked to imagine what he was like; the infatuation she had with him was hers to keep. From the few times she had came across him, she tried to keep the image of him, but it was nearly impossible when he only showed up once a month, sometimes only once a year. 

“Don’t be afraid, you’re not alone,” She sang under a whisper, eyes glimmering in the Palace’s lights, “Sleep until dawn, for all is well, long ago this song was sung to me; Now it’s just a distant melody,” She pushed herself further towards the end of the branch, her stomach turning at the thought of catching a glimpse, “Somewhere from the past I used to know, once upon a time and long ago.” 

Raven sighed, closing her eyes. In some ways, she was manifesting the sight of him. While she was his favorite, they had never spoken a word to each other. It was evident that she was his favorite; she told herself that constantly. 

She wondered what his voice sounded like. If it was so deep that it could make the floors of the forest vibrate. In the midst of her dreaming, she heard a crackle from underneath her. Eyes shooting open wide, her arms worked to grab her bow and arrow before pointing it down at the floor. 

Raven studied the floor, eyes squinted yet adrenaline shot through her veins. The thought of getting caught didn’t scare her, but it didn’t ease her either. When she heard another crackle, she threw her arrow over her back and stood to her feet on the branch. She jumped onto another branch, looking deeply into the forest, as much as the light from the Palace would admit. 

But there was nothing. 

Just as she was about to turn to jump back over the wall, a hand grabbed her ankle and she fell to the floor of the forest. Her back hit the floor with a loud crack, she bit back the scream in her throat, her hand slapping over her mouth with a soft cry. The pain in her back shot through her in consistent spills. 

Raven turned onto her side, gasping to catch her breath; just as she did, a shadow rushed past her and it caught her eye. As she leaned up to look around, a pair of hands grabbed her cloak and quickly brought her to her feet. Disorientated, she couldn’t see the shadow in front of her. Raven’s back hit the bark of the tree, head thumping against it with a thud. 

“Climbing over the wall?” 

The familiar voice made her eyes cross in confusion, but when the blur faded away, she was faced with the older man from the dining hall earlier. Raven’s blood boiled almost instantly, fists balling up as she used her leg to kick him off of her. 

“You idiot!” Raven hissed through her teeth, quickly pulling her hood over her head once more, “If we get caught, we both get killed!” 

“Would that be the worst thing to happen?” He clutched his stomach fiercely with fire in his eyes, “But I do not plan to get caught, however your luck has been cut short.” 

“What do you speak of?” Raven squinted her eyes at him. 

“You do not know the name I was given, but you have been a misery in my life since you arrived,” He spat angrily, “Dary, that is my given name, but you would not know.” 

Raven stayed silent, staring at him in disgust. 

“You almost killed a boy over a piece of dry toast.” 

“I do what I please.” Dary leaned down to the floor of the forest, his hand disappearing before coming clear with a knife in his hand, “You think you are special, but you are less than the dirt I soil on.” 

Raven’s body froze at the blade. While she had killed many animals, she had never committed such a crime. It had become evident that it was either him or her; and she was planning on getting out alive. 

“You do not dare to touch me.” Raven whispered quietly. 

Dary grimaced, “I do what I must,” He took a step closer to her, the blade shining from the lights, “Who could’ve thought that someone such as you would be such a burden in this village?” 

“I am no such thing,” Raven’s hand wrapped around the bow on her back, “I keep to myself.” 

Dary let out a deep, dark laugh, one that made shivers fall down her spine. Not another word from his mouth, he lunged towards her. Raven was not quick enough, the feeling of the blade slashing her arm made her cry out. Her leg kicked Dary away from her as she ran into the woods. 

“You cannot hide from me, Raven!” Dary called out loudly. 

Raven could hear him chasing after her, when she got the bow off her back, she then quickly turned onto her heel and pointed an arrow in the direction where he was. When she expected the man to be closer to her, she was only met with the silence of the forest. Raven’s breath hitched, taking a step back as her head snapped back and forth to search for Dary. 

It was silent. She didn’t know if that was more disturbing or if she had found that she was thankful for the sudden disappearance. But, where did he go? 

“Dary?” She called out, not loud, she didn’t want to alert the guards. 

Raven tuned into the sounds of the forest; crickets were singing lightly in the distance, even bullfrogs cried out into the night. A mile from where she stood was a creek that could be heard, the water brushing over the boulders. She faltered when she suddenly heard a chewing sound, snapping her head behind her to see nothing; yet again. 

Suddenly, a loud thud could be heard from in front of her. Dary’s body fell from the sky, as if he had somehow opted for the power of flight; something that only the Dark King could do. Raven’s eyes widened in horror, approaching the body in haste, but jumped back just as quick when her gaze set on the mutilated face of Dary. 

Raven gagged, slapping her hand over her mouth to suppress the sound. Sure, she had seen many executions, but this was no execution; Dary’s face was mauled as if a creature had finally found it’s dinner after days of starving. Pieces of his face hung from the sides, revealing the red flesh underneath with his nose vanished and eyes gorged. 

“What in the world–,” Raven coughed, taking a step back only to feel her back hit a body behind her. 

She turned onto her heel, a man with a hood draped over his head, but a pair of emerald eyes glowed down at her. He was still, blinking only once. Raven’s mouth slowly gaped as she took a step away from him, knowing exactly who this creature was. Someone she had been desperately waiting to face again. 

His hood fell back as his hand removed it. Blood covered his face, lathered in vivid red around his mouth. He used the sleeve of his cloak to wipe the remnants from his mouth, but the pigment still stained his pale skin. Raven was in awe as she fell to her knees and bowed with her forehead against the forest floor. 

“My dark king.” She breathed out as her heart beat wildly in her chest. 

Raven stayed in her deep bow, though she was desperate to raise her head and look him in the eyes once more. 

“To your feet.” His voice was deep, just as she suspected, something about it demanded her. 

“Yes, my dark king.” Raven quickly stood to her feet. 

When she flicked her gaze towards his, he was using his pinky finger to pick out pieces of Dary from his teeth. She was in awe for half a moment before she suddenly realized that she was caught on the other side of the wall. Something that she had never done before, not even by a guard, but of course it was her luck that her dark king would be the first to find her like this. 

His tongue ran over his teeth, then swallowed thickly as his eyes searched hers. Raven felt as though her knees would not be able to support her any longer; when He looked towards Dary, she studied the slim feature of his jaw that could cut effortlessly. Long brown curls that framed his face, but yet pushed back in the middle, and his curved brows furrowed together in a tight knit as he studied his late dinner. 

She parted her lips to plead for forgiveness, but he flicked his hand up to stop her. 

“I do not want to hear your pleas,” He kicked Dary’s body lightly, now turned back to Raven, “You have committed a death worthy crime against the Palace.” 

He said it so effortlessly, so carelessly. The Dark King did not care about the lives of those who crossed him, even if it was just crawling over a man made wall. The rules were the rules and Raven broke them in hopes for a glimpse of her king. 

Raven shook, but took her bow and arrows off her back and threw them to the forest floor. Before he could turn to face her, she had her knees in the dirt and eyes glaring up at him with desperation. 

“If I were to enter my last sleep, may it be while I face you, my king,” Raven did not hesitate to take her knife from her boot and offer it to him. 

He stared darkly down at her, amused, even a hint of a smirk tugged at his lips at her offer. Raven had her head bowed, he studied the submissive ways of Raven; it entertained him, something that he never got much of when he was in his own home. 

Not this kind of entertainment anyway. 

Raven felt the knife disappear from her hand, her heart fell to her stomach as she brought her gaze to the man above her and awed into the glowing emerald eyes of his. Shakily, her hands unbuttoned the cloak from around her neck and tilted her head back, still staring deeply into his eyes. 

He twirled the knife in his hand, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he studied her. The Dark King leaned down, not letting his knees touch the ground in a crouch as his fingers reached out to grab the underside of her jaw. Raven gasped out, suddenly her stomach was boiling inside of her and she felt her skin catch fire from his touch. 

He was touching her. 

“Raven…” He warned carefully with a tsk, the blade of the knife soothed against her neck, holding it lightly at her neck. 

“Do not spare me mercy, for I have betrayed you.” Raven tried to hide the fear in her voice, when she swallowed the tighter the knife felt against her throat. 

He chuckled darkly, the pinch on her chin tightened as he inched closer to her. Raven inhaled sharply, only to find that he was stealing the air from her lungs. She gasped softly, throat tightening, while her fingers quickly wrapped around the wrist of his and flicked her gaze to his eyes once more in pure fear. 

His lips were pursed in a small ‘o’ as the ghostly air frosted against his lips, she was besides herself. Raven felt weak, the grip on his wrist weakening as his eyes turned from a bright emerald to a dark mossy color with spots of brown and black. 

Then, suddenly, he blew back onto her and the air filled her lungs once more. Raven coughed out, relief washing over her as her hand grabbed her chest and hunched over while she tried to steady her breathing. 

“What makes you think that I wouldn’t kill you in seconds?” His knuckles caressed Raven’s cheek, a smirk playing on his lips before tearing his knuckles from her, “Because you serve me no purpose. Do you enjoy your sickly obsession with staring in my palace at late hours of the night?”

Raven was caught off guard by the question, embarrassment washing over her as she avoided his gaze. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, she could feel his cold breath on her skin and it made her skin tingle as her fingers dug deeply into the soft dirt. 

“Speechless?” He chuckled quietly, “I am shocked at your silence. You seem to have quite the mouth with others, do you not?” When Raven didn’t answer him, he raised his voice once more, raspy and dark, “Do you not, Raven?” 

“Yes, my dark king,” Raven whispered quietly, closing her eyes as his touch left her skin, a loss for her needs.

He only tsked, standing tall over her. Raven dusted herself off, slowly standing; he towered over her small stature. She felt intimidated by the height, but still avoided the scalding glare of his. Within moments of her on her feet, she was quickly cornered against the tree. His cold hand grabbed her jaw as he made her look at him. 

“Step on my land again,” His breath hits her cheek, making her breath hitch in her throat, “And your punishment will be similar to Dary’s.” 

Raven shook under his touch, but before she could think to say something, he vanished. Now alone in the woods, Raven blinked hard and grabbed her cloak, quickly putting it on before gliding up the tree she had fallen from and worked her way back over the stone wall. 

When her feet hit the ground in her village, she ran home with an ache in her stomach. 

At home, she locked the door behind her and pressed her back against the door. When the noise settled, she closed her eyes and thought. 

When shall she see her dark king again?

-

Two days later, Raven sat at a pond with Bode. Since seeing her dark king face to face, there was an itch that needed to be scratched. If she thought about it long enough, she could feel his fingers back on her skin, and the way his cold breath created goosebumps along her neck. 

Bode kept asking questions though, as Raven had been silent for the last two days. 

“It’s been two days since Dary has been missing.” He skipped a rock along the pond. 

“He must be the least of your worries.” Raven said quietly as she doodled with a feather pen tucked between her fingers. 

She doodled the eyes of her king, in case she forgets him. 

“Some people think you murdered him,” Bode said nonchalantly, “You did hold a knife to his neck the night he went missing.” 

“People think what they may, I do not care, I know I am not guilty.” Raven rolled her eyes, slamming her old notebook closed before tucking it under her robe and slouching towards Bode. 

“You shall not care until the guards show up at your door.” Bode was getting irritated with Raven’s lack of care. 

“They won’t.” 

Bode squinted his eyes, standing over her as he crossed his arms. 

“You believe you are innocent, show you are innocent. I cannot be the only person to defend you, other than the young boy who took the toast,” Bode’s thick brows furrowed together, “If they find reason you may have–,” 

Raven stood to her feet in annoyance, “I shall hear this no longer.” 

Bode grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving, “And I shall not watch my best friend be slaughtered in the square,” Their eyes met, Bode’s full of worry, “I fear for you. I care, you realize? What has gotten into you the last few days? You have been acting dangerously.” 

Raven took her arm back, rubbing the tension off. 

“I realize you care,” She reaffirmed his feelings, “I act no dangerously than any other misfit in Neverland. I do not understand your worry. I am fine.” 

“I believe it is something to do with the Dark King–,” 

Before Bode could say any further, a knife was drawn to his neck with no hesitation from Raven. Her eyes glew a dark purple as she took a step closer to him. Bode’s eyes widened, disgust on his face as he studied Raven’s features. 

“You dare not speak of him.” Raven muttered.

Bode’s pointy ears twitched, he waved his fist and suddenly Raven’s knife was redirected towards the tree, before it flew from her grasp and penetrated the bark of the thick tree. 

“You care more for him, that is certain, given you held a blade to your friend’s neck.” Bode spat, grabbing his things. 

Raven stood, ashamed, yet shocked. She didn’t know what to think, though, her infatuations are secret to her and her only. The more people dared to speak ill of him, it became more apparent. She didn’t believe that her king would kill her, no. Had she told anyone that she faced him alone? 

Of course not. 

Raven kept it to herself, it was of no one’s business. 

Bode looked back at her, opening his mouth to say something, then shook his head and made his way back to the village. 

Raven sighed, walking to where the blade was. She wrapped her fingers around the handle, pulling it from the tree with ease. Dusting off the blade, she slid the blade in it’s respected spot and sat on a boulder with her chin in her hand. 

She couldn’t stop thinking of him. 

If it was not for him, Dary would have killed her. It confirmed to Raven that she was special and others were jealous of the affections between her and the king. She had to find a way to see him again without crawling over the wall again. 

Picking herself up from the boulder, she ventured down the leafy path towards the village once more. 

Tonight, she would see her king again. 

-

Raven walked the same path into the woods, this time away from the walls. A bow and arrow on her back with her knife in her hand. At night, these ways are dangerous. While the misfits were sleeping, there were other troubles that lurked ahead. 

A land just across the lake, they often came to Neverland to steal our meat. While Neverland’s people seem to mind their business, they often fight at any chance they can, especially when it is someone that does not belong on their land. 

Above Raven’s gaze, the moon lit up the night enough for her to see the path. When she found a creek, she crossed it as she jumped on each rock, sturdy and careful. Walking up a small hill, she laid on her stomach at the top and stared down at the fields that were below her from afar. 

Creatures lurked here at night. 

While the death penalty is not ideal, she wanted to test her king. Raven removed the bow and arrow from her back and readied her aim; she squinted one eye, searching the moonlight for any creature that was up at this time of night. She knew, at least, it would be deer. 

The lullaby she sang a few nights ago, hummed lightly through her lips as she mouthed the words under her breath. She heard a rustle, tilting her head, a deer trotted into the light. A smirk spread across her lips, she readied her aim once more. 

“Long ago this song was sung to me, now it’s just a distant melody,” Raven sang under a whisper, “Somewhere from the past I used to know, once upon a time and long ago…” 

Shoot. 

She let go of the arrow, watching as it just barely brushed the deer before the creature got startled and ran out of the light. Raven’s eyes widened, frowning as she sat herself up with her arms. How could she have missed that shot? She didn’t understand. 

Raven had never missed a clear shot. 

She cursed to herself under her breath, readying another arrow in her bow and waited on her stomach, on the hill. Minutes went by, still no creature. Raven started to feel helpless, maybe it was the hunger in her stomach from being up past her bedtime that made her feel this way. 

Then another rustle, much louder than the last, echoed in the area. Could it be her king? She dusted herself off and stood to her feet in anticipation. Purple eyes wandered around the area, this time searching high in the trees for the hidden man, but found nothing. 

Unsteady on her feet, a suddenly uneasy feeling came over her. Could it be an intruder? Raven started down the hill with haste, she didn’t think she had the guts to murder someone. As twisted as her personality was, she knew her stomach wouldn’t handle such a thing. 

When she came across the creek once more, a body laid in the creek, contaminating their waters with blood. As she got closer, the person’s throat had been slit, so tiny it looked like it was done with a piece of freshly cut paper. Raven swallowed thickly, jumping over the body and asking no questions. 

Someone was among her. 

If not someone, then something. 

Her feet hit the pathway once more, looking back as she walked forward. Shivers went down her spine, she could feel someone watching her, but she wasn’t sure who. It couldn’t have been her king, no, she committed no crime tonight. 

Could it have been Bode watching over her? 

Raven looked forward, finding a man hunched over something. She paused her steps, blood growing cold. When the man stood to his feet, the moonlight hit him and Raven faced the familiar cloak that she had just seen some nights ago. 

Her dark king. 

He turned around to face her, the same emerald eyes glowing bright as he gave her a once over. She stayed still, though dared to take a step towards him. Raven kneeled on one knee as he approached her, he had blood dripping down his white blouse that was so sheer it showed his tattoos. 

“My dark ki–.” 

“Are you thrilled over the power I hold on these lands,” His voice coarse and thick, “Or do you just enjoy being on your knees for your king?” 

Raven blushed wildly, looking away for mere moments before swallowing thickly. 

“Tis always an honor to be in the presence of you, my king.” She said quietly, standing to her feet once more, she crossed her arms under her cloak as a brush of cold wind surpassed them. 

“For you, of course,” When he came closer to Raven, she felt her stomach start to bubble, “You tried to kill my creatures.” 

Raven stayed silent, she knew someone was watching her; she never expected it to be him, though. 

“You were following me?” 

“You called,” He mumbled, “For reasons which bore me, dreadfully.” 

“Called?” Raven pinched her face in confusion, she did not recall calling out to him. Only ever in her dreams, but how would that be possible for him to know?

He hummed the lullaby that Raven had been singing the last few days, her face washed in a pale white, watching as he took slow steps around her, in circles. 

“The lullaby,” He was now behind her, she could feel how close he was, “It beckons me to those who seek me.” 

Raven said nothing, her body was frigid and her gaze was locked onto the body up the road. She didn’t know that the song beckoned him, if she knew that; she would have him any time she wanted. 

“But you still tried to kill my creatures,” His voice darkened, a hand placed onto her shoulder and it made her knees buckle, “Another crime.” 

“A crime I did not commit.” Raven said above a whisper, fluttering her eyes shut. 

In seconds, Raven was whipped around, the king towered over her as he grabbed her face and squinted his eyes darkly. 

“Are you accusing your king of lying, Raven? That would not be very…” His fingers fled to her throat, backing her up until her back hit a large boulder behind them, “Smart of you.” 

Raven didn’t comment on his threat, instead studied the blood on his shirt; his abs flexed as the cold wind hit him, she didn’t think possible for him to feel such things. 

“You murdered those men.” 

“There were trespassers on my land.” He arched his brow. 

“You killed them for me.” 

Her heart raced at the thought. Her king protecting her, it made her heart melt and her skin crawl with excitement. Raven’s lips tugged upwards into a small smile at the thought. 

But then he laughed, a hardy, deep laugh that shook his stomach while his fingers clenched both sides of her neck a bit tighter. He then pulled her closer, inches from her face as he let out a growl. 

“I do not kill for my people, I kill for my amusement,” He spat through gritted teeth, in seconds his fingers wrapped around the black strands of her hair and pulled it tightly at the root. Raven let out a soft sound, rolling her eyes back, “Do you find this amusing to you?” 

Raven’s stomach was on fire; she desperately tried to ignore the way his fingers locked into her hair, but the sensation was more than she could ignore. 

When Raven couldn’t speak a word, it was when He realized that she was enjoying this. A tedious smirk barely showed on his face through the shadow’s of his hood. His fingers lightly massaged her scalp, causing a small sound and physical reaction from Raven, then he gently jerked on it again to make her mewl out. 

“Oh,” He said, “This is quite pathetic, isn’t it?” 

Raven’s eyes fluttered open at the comment, her lips parted. 

“If you believe I have committed a crime, then punish me.” Raven said quietly between the two of them, it was taking everything not to reach out to him and touch his chest. 

His eyes glimmered, “The punishment you haunt yourself with everyday is not enough, is it?” He breathed cold on her lips, Raven was close to closing the gap, “Torturing yourself with the thought of seeing me.” 

His lips grazed her jaw, Raven let out a moan so embarrassing just from the smallest touch. She felt his lips feather up her jaw until he was breathing into her ear. 

“But you cannot,” His voice was below a whisper, “For I do not answer the silent beckons of your wet dreams.” 

Raven’s breath hitched, “My dark king, I must admit my admirations—,” 

“If you feel the need to do so, please call me by my name,” He lapped a strip up her jaw, letting out a low grunt, “But do not expect for me to care for you, for I could snap your neck and walk away without a care.” 

Raven’s eyes darkened, “And what name might that be?” 

“Harry.” He pressed his lips against her ear. 

Her heart fluttered, “I have adored you for ages, Harry.” 

“Cute,” Harry chuckled quietly, creating a distance to rid Raven of the imaginative warmth he gave off, “As if I don’t have everyone on this land feeling the same way.” 

“My feelings are different,” Raven felt a pang of anxiety in her chest, stepping towards him, “I have admired you from afar. I have defended your name when many wouldn’t.” 

Harry flicked his hair back in a state of boredom, “And what makes you different from the rest?” He spared her a glance, “That you treat me with such royalty as if I am,” He then leaned towards her with a small smirk, tilting his head slowly, “Let me allow you to educate you, love. We do not have any kings in Neverland, just me.” 

Raven’s chest burned with fire, she couldn’t tell if it was rage from his rejection, or if it was the still lingering lust deep inside of her. 

“You rule this land, you have been our king—,” 

Harry laughed out in howl, shaking his head. 

“A king,” He remarks, “You humor me, Raven.” 

“Is that not what your title is?!” Raven finally snapped with irritation, fists balled by her side. 

“My title is whatever the fuck I want it to be,” He spat with his white teeth showing, canines sharp and ready, “A king protects his people. I could set Neverland ablaze and watch all of you scatter to the water to escape and feel nothing.” 

Raven’s eyes stared darkly at the man before her. The darkness inside of him excited her, it made the passion she had for him burn brighter than it ever had. If she had a choice, she would burn the place to the ground with Harry just to watch his emerald eyes glimmer with hints of red in them. 

He was darker than she thought he was. 

Raven took a step closer to him, parting her cold, chapped lips. 

“And what would one do to watch this land burn with you?” 

Before he could open his mouth to say anything, she dared to place a hand onto his bloodied chest. The warmth of the blood was the first time she had felt the other degree of weather in years. Her fingers enclosed around the fabric, only for Harry to grab her wrist and raise her arm in the air. One moment she was standing before him, the other she was being pinned back against the boulder, now with his full body against hers. 

“I see the darkness in you,” Harry smirked faintly, showing off his canine teeth in the corner. Raven inhaled sharply as his hand grabbed her hip and burned his fingers into her skin, “You feel it too, don’t you, Raven? You wish to act on it…” His breath hit her cheek as his tongue just barely lapped under her jaw, “But you wish to be a…good girl, for me?” 

Raven’s eyes fluttered closed as a whimper escaped her. She let out a small hum in approval, acceptance, knowing that if given the chance there would be a few people on this island she would cut to pieces with no mercy. Dary being one of them, though, Harry covered that for her. 

“Words,” His fingers pinched her cheeks, forcing Raven to look at him as he squinted down at her; the emerald hues now turned dark and mossy, “I need to hear you say it.” 

Her mind was fuzzy, the close vicinity was fucking with her head. Raven could easily close the gap, ease the burning feeling in her gut and devour every piece of him. When she opened her mouth to speak, it was stuck in her throat, and she kept having to swallow the block from the lack of oxygen she had in her lungs. 

“Yes…” Raven breathed out, shoulders relaxing as she flicked her gaze into his, “I do, my dark king.” 

Silence fell between them, Harry searching her face; she didn’t know what for, if he was studying her, if he was reading her mind to tell the truth. All she knew, and had known, was that she wanted to bite into the obsession that was him. She wanted to feed off of him, she wanted to rule this land and kill off anyone that crosses the two of them. 

Harry’s fingers pinched tighter around her cheek, then let go. When Raven let out a shallow breath, his lips smashed against hers. Her body only stiffened for a second, shocked, then relaxed and fed into him. Her long fingers disappeared into his long curly locks, tugging it to bring him impossibly close to her. 

Harry let out a growl against her lip, when she went to lap her lips, his teeth snatched her bottom lip and pulled on it slowly. She sucked in a harsh breath, he pierced the skin and she could taste the faintest taste of blood on her tongue when she swallowed. Harry’s hand moved down from her cheeks to her neck, grabbing it tightly as he tilted Raven’s head back and started to suck on her lip as if he hadn’t fed in some years. 

Inevitably, the burning in her stomach didn’t go away; only worsened. Raven knew exactly what she wanted, but the only concern was that it would feed her obsession for wanting more. When Harry pulled off her lip, they both tried to catch their breaths from the makeout session, but only gazed into each others eyes while her hand was still pinned against the cold boulder. 

She wished to touch him, and just at the thought, her wrist was freed. It fell by her side and she was able to reach out and unbutton his cloak. In the most unspoken message between them, they started to undress each other. 

Harry let his cloak fall to the dirt, then reached out to her and removed her cloak. He draped it over the boulder, saying nothing, then turned back to her as his fingers caressed the side of her face; he was able to see the deadly look she gave. It made his throat tighten, he could see that they shared the same evil inside of them, the same feeling of nothing. 

“You wish for power, do you not?” Harry’s gravely voice said, deeply, as he pushed her long sleeved green shirt off her shoulder, when his lips met her skin, she closed her eyes and tried to take in the question; but it was so hard when he was touching her. 

“I wish for you,” Raven admitted, untying the thin fabric shaped as a loose bow around his front, when it fell to the side, she started to slowly unbutton him as Harry’s mouth finally attached to her neck and sucked it viciously, “I wish for you in any way…” She pushed the shirt off his torso, exposing the ghostly white skin of his, it was almost gray; tattoo’s meshed together and faded, “Any shape or form…” Raven’s fingers drew down his chest, “I wish for anything you allow me to have, my king.” 

Harry shuddered at her words, drawing a long mewl from him as he breathed through a wide smirk. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” He whispered into her ear, biting down on her earlobe, “Now, get on your knees for me, lovie. I want to show you what I shall allow you to have,” When he met her gaze, he pouted his lip in fake sympathy, “And what I shall offer you, tis just a taste.” 

Raven smirked, biting down on her lip as she fell to her knees. Looking up at Harry, his cock twitched inside of his pants; his fingers unbuttoned the fabric of his brown, stained pants. They fell, it gave no imagination, he wore nothing underneath; Raven was looking up at the long length that dripped from the tip and twitched for her. 

The sight alone made her mouth water, she was swallowing down the pooling saliva in her mouth as Harry took his cock into his hand and pumped it slowly; his fingers glided over the veins that pulsated, with each stroke precum dripped and he’d only use it to lather himself for lubrication. 

“Open your mouth.” His words held no compliments, but Raven loved it. 

When her lips parted, her tongue fell past her lips and she opened her mouth wide for him. Harry anchored himself down to meet the height of her mouth. With his cock still in his hand, Harry watched as the tip slipped delicately onto her tongue and let out a bated breath; Raven closed her eyes, moving forward as she took his cock into her mouth and settled around the thick girth. 

“I can give you anything,” Harry’s groan vibrated through his throat as Raven started to lap her tongue around his cock, her moans vibrating around his length and making his toes curl. The way her tongue felt on the underside of his cock, to the way the tip bottomed out in the back of her throat, “Show me you are worthy–ah, of this, fuck.” 

Raven took those words to heart, she wanted to show just how worthy she was and more. She raised herself onto her knees, one hand around his length as she eased her throat and breathed steadily through her nose; in swift motions, she started to deep throat him, her hand stroking any part of his cock that couldn’t fit into her mouth. 

Harry’s stomach tied in knots, the cold air mixed with the pleasure made his balls tighten, with his thighs shaking. His long, thick fingers curled into her hair as he bucked his hips into her mouth. Watching the view from where he was above her, it was a beautiful sight. The sight of Raven’s spit falling and dripping from her chin, while her lilac eyes flicked upwards to make eye contact with him. 

“What a privilege this must be for you,” Harry tried to breathe, but the pleasure was too much; his chest burned, “Do you like the way my cock tastes? Is it everything you dreamed of?” 

Raven blushed, a flat hand against his thigh as she moaned against his cock. Harry tried to refrain from taking over and fucking her face until she cried; he wondered how her tears tasted, if they were salty, or sweet just like the way she looked. 

He couldn’t control it, he needed to be inside of her, and that was what he wanted; that is what he shall get from her. Harry pulled out from her mouth, a string of spit following from her mouth as a gasp left her. Raven tried to catch her breath, just as she went to wipe the spit from her lips, Harry commanded her to stand with a single flick of his two fingers. 

Face to face, Harry being as calculated as he was, wrapped his hands around her bottom and picked her up. Raven wrapped her arms around his neck as their lips clashed together in a heated kiss. Her tongue ran across his bottom lip, letting him taste himself on her tongue; Harry growled lowly, setting her down onto the seat of the boulder before pushing her back to lay onto her back. 

“You shall take anything from me,” Raven breathed in a moan as Harry unbuttoned her blouse and ripped it open to show her bare breasts, “Take anything you must, my king. You can, and will always, have it all. Anything you want.” 

Harry twitched at her words, staring darkly up at her. When slid her pants off, his mouth attached to her breast, one small inhale before he dug his canines into her skin. Raven cried out, reaching for his hair as her back arched; the pain enclosed around her body, but then a sudden burst of euphoria filled her veins as Harry started to suck the bleeding from her skin. Her eyes pinched together tightly, desperately trying to suppress the moans deep inside her throat. 

Harry let the taste fill his tongue while his hand disappeared between her legs; Raven let out a loud whine as the pads of his fingers slid through her slick folds. Using his fingers, he lapped up the creamy arousal around his fingers and brought it to the engorged pearl that throbbed. Raven pulled his hair tighter, Harry growling against her skin at the tension in his head as his fingers circled around her clit daringly. 

He hadn’t heard someone sing for him like this in decades, Raven was whimpering and whining underneath him as his mouth moved to her nipple and latched onto it. Flicking his tongue, lapping it over the hardened nub; he nibbled it and played with it as her body withered underneath him in pleasure. 

“H-Harry–,” Raven spoke his true name in desperation as the fire burned inside of her, a portal opening up to a new world that she could have, that he could give her. Each suck, each flick, each lick, Harry was feeding her a taste of what she could have and she never knew how starved she was for it until now, “O-Oh…my god.” 

Raven winced at the lack of touch when he latched off of her nipple, his eyes squinting at her before slowly kissing down her stomach lovingly, soothingly, though she knew these feelings inside of her were only ever one sided. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He mumbled against her skin, his fingers sliding down to her slick folds and stilling his movements carefully, “What I can give you?” Harry said it slowly as he entered his fingers inside of her, when a mewl left her, his lips wrapped around her clit and started to kitten lick it in slow, short, small circles. 

“I want it all,” Raven didn’t feel like herself, she felt different; suddenly the color of her skin started to mute, as if Harry was converting her into him, “Give it to me, I want–ah!”

Raven watched as Harry’s nose sat at the top of her cunt, digging further into his late night snack. The wet feeling of his tongue lapped in longer strokes each time while his fingers slowly curled inside of her, pumping with each curl, her arousal was pooling around his knuckles and chin as his tongue worked around her. 

Her legs locked around his head, tightly, tighter, each lick made her body contort and twitch; her soul descended, then came back to her. She was seeing the world as it was, as it is, and as it always will be. Harry was doing her a favor, she was feeding into it, just as Harry wanted her too; Raven couldn’t fathom the power of what Harry had to offer her. 

“I’m…” Raven felt her cunt burn, her clit twitched and lit on fire as his tongue circled faster around her. 

It was the end for her, embarrassingly fast enough, the fireworks lit inside of her and her nails dug into the thick boulder as the lower half of her body raised from the surface. Raven cried out in pleasure, whimpers, pleas, Harry worked her through her first, and not the only, orgasm of the night. She drenched his chin, even when her body felt fucked and tired, Harry still sucked viciously on her pearl to make her oversensitive; he wanted to see the tears that he could bring her. 

“S-Stop–ah!” Raven tried to inch away from him, only for his fingers to dig into her thighs and lock her down against the boulder as his tongue worked in circular motions against her. Raven’s eyes watered as her thighs shook violently, lashing above him as the over sensitive feeling washed over her in a hot bath of fire until she drew another orgasm that was so deep and hot, “Ah! Fuck! F-Fuck, y-yes, oh my–,” 

Harry drew away from her, but not before kissing her clit. When he watched her body deflate, he felt accomplished, but there was more he was willing to give; he was not ready for this to be over. Not when he hadn’t shown her everything he had to offer. Tis just a taste. 

Harry kissed her ankle, grabbing her hips as he pulled her close to him. 

“You are right…” She said in a daze, “It’s so…beautiful.” 

His fingers catch the arousal around his chin, lapping it up and bringing it to his lips and sucking it off his fingers. He hummed, biting down on his lip as he positioned himself against her entrance, staring darkly down at her. 

“Are you ready to see the rest of it?” Harry’s voice was filled with lust and devious matters. 

“Please, my king,” Raven whimpered, “I beg of you to show me.” 

Harry hummed lightly, pushing his tip into her. Raven, while she was wet, was tight. Harry had no problem stretching her out with his thick girth, as he pushed himself into her, his lips parted as they glistened in the wet moonlight. 

“You have been such a good girl,” Harry finally praised her, he lifted her dead legs around his waist and pushed himself further; her wet cunt hugged his cock so tightly, he thought he was going to cum within moments. He had to collect himself. 

Raven couldn’t bring herself to react, even physically, the second orgasm brought all the energy out of her. Her walls stretched around him, he was thick and big, it made her sore legs shake before he found himself to pull back and get to work. 

Harry leaned down, brushing her hair out of her face, “But I know you’ve got a demon in there,” He kissed her pale lips, nudging his nose against her cheek as her eyes glimmered, “That little demon begs to come out and play, wouldn’t you agree, lovie?” 

Raven whined out, a sudden urge of aggression vibrating through her as she clutched his locks and swallowed thickly. Dark purple eyes met his emerald ones, and she brought him closer as she just barely touched his lips. 

“Let her come out,” She whispered softly against his lips, when Harry went to kiss her, she inched back and stared darkly, “Let her free.” 

Harry smirked wide, “Of course,” He breathed against her lips, finally tasting her before mumbling against her lips, “Show me your demons, Raven.” 

Their lips clashed once more, just as Harry drew his hips back and slammed them against hers hard. Raven cried out against his lips, wrapping her arms around his back. Harry grabbed her throat, squeezing the sides as he bottomed out to the hilt of hers; Raven lost her breath as the pleasure filled her, his tongue dancing with hers, the stars in the sky cried in showers of dead bursts of light. 

When Raven closed her eyes, the vision came more clearly; the vivid rebellion of her in bear skin and finest gold; the nights of her in the bed with Harry, in a king sized bed, while she rode him until he came. Raven envisioned the overlook of the village, the power it brought her, and when she came to…

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Harry grumbled against her skin. 

Raven’s fingers were digging tightly into his skin, blood embedded underneath her fingernails as Harry drilled into her cunt. The quiet of the night interrupted with the powers of their pleasure and skin slapping in the night, they begged for each other quietly, loudly, wildly. 

Harry’s cock worked her cunt, the tip continuously hitting her g-spot as his fingers flicked away at her irritated clit; if there was a God, Raven could see him so clearly in the makeshift religious experience. Her toes curled as she approached the third coming of her orgasm, loud whimpers and moans ripping through her throat as her nails dug deeper to claw into the bloody back of her king’s. 

The pain only edged Harry more to his first orgasm, recklessly thrusting and fucking into her, his stomach boiled with each thrust; his toes curled as he slapped the boulder beside her face and pulled her torso closer to her. Raven now sitting up, Harry grabbed her ass and squeezed it so tight there were marks forming within seconds. He held her up, her legs wrapped around him, as he caught her nipple into his mouth and started stroking sloppily at a hard and fast pace, offbeat and messy. 

Raven’s arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close as her moan ripped through her throat; spilling messily against his cock. She was ripping through her third orgasm, wetting her thighs and Harry’s pelvis, while Harry’s nails clawed into her asscheeks and came in long thick ropes inside of her; marking her as forever property of his, never to leave his side, and that was the silent contract in this game they played with one another. 

Their bodies deflated, when Harry couldn’t hold the weight any longer, he sat her back down onto the boulder and let his flaccid length fall out of her. Both of them fucked, though Harry recovered easily than her, she could barely hold her eyes open. She wondered for a moment, how would she get up and walk all the way back home after this? 

After some moments, silent and thick, Raven and Harry got dressed without a word. She buttoned up her blouse, avoiding eye contact with him. She rested her body against the boulder, taking in the actions and the blur of it all; the memory fading faster than she’d like, but the euphoria still lingered in her veins. 

Harry put his robe over his head, parting his wet lips as he glanced towards her. 

“It’s late…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say, “I must reside back too–,” 

Just as Raven went to walk back towards the dirt road, Harry grabbed her wrist tightly, staring darkly as he pulled her to him. 

“Where do you think you are going?” Harry spat in distaste, grabbing her chin to make her look at him, Raven’s eyes were wide; “You belong to me now.” 

Raven’s eyes softened at his words, slowly a smirk stretched on her lips. 

“Yes, my dark king.” 

[pinkthrone445]

Hello, I hope you’re good!

I have a Melissa x reader prompt. I listened to Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift I thought it would be a perfect story. Can you make it? But in a way that Mel and the reader are not together yet in the beginning but it has a happy ending with them being together? Thank you ❤️

-We need each other in all lives-

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:soft, fluff, love

Warnings:cursing

Summary:Mel was always there to take care of you because you were good friends.

Hi sweetheart! That was a beautiful song! I didn't end it exactly how you want it, but maybe I'll write a next part where they go to prom or something. I hope you like it! I love request with songs! ❤️

Changes, there were times that were good things and others that complicated your existence. Some changes pushed you forward and others made you stagnate in place.

Many years you begged and listened as others begged wishing that Ava would be a better director, but you never thought that the moment when that would happen, you would wish you could go back in time.

After the break, when you returned to work, Ava had made a 180° turn, a turn so radical that it surprised everyone. You had high hopes for this new Ava, until it started banning everything you wanted or enjoyed doing, including breaks.

With so few breaks and teaching two classes at once, you were on the verge of a physical or mental breakdown or both, something that didn't go unnoticed by Melissa.

The redhead and Barbara had almost adopted you since you had started working at Abbott, your sarcastic joke caught Melissa's attention and at the same time your maturity in certain things, caught Barbara's attention and they immediately liked you. The years that followed only strengthened the friendship, although you had to admit that you were closer to the redhead than to Barbara.

There was nothing you could hide from Melissa, she could tell when you lied or hid something, she even noticed how you felt before you told her. She was very aware of how these weeks with more demands had affected you, for that same reason, she was paying much more attention to you than before, even controlling that you ate and drank water.

Since you could no longer take advantage of your free hours to check the kid's work, you started doing it while eating so you wouldn't have to do so much at home.

-"Do you want to go out tonight to eat and drink something?" - Mel offered while you ate with her and Barbara. The red-haired woman slightly pushed your glasses that were on the table towards you so that you would realize that you should be wearing them so that your eyes wouldn't burn afterwards, you smiled slightly at her putting them on and kept correcting the sheets

-"I can't, I have a date with Geral for our anniversary" - The older one commented, and Mel looked at you, giving you a chance to answer

-"I have too much to do... Besides I'm to tired for going out Mel-Mel" - You commented, still looking at the sheets of paper and moving your red pen over them

-"So it's decided, tonight you're coming to my house and I'll make something to eat for you. And don't say no, you need to rest and distract yourself a bit, you're not even eating right now so you can correct those papers" - she commented in an authoritative tone and you nodded in agreement with no other choice.

When night came, you drove to your friend's house with her favorite wine in hand. When you opened the door, a savory aroma surrounded you and the redhead laughed when she saw the joy in your eyes when she noticed how that gave you happiness.

Upon entering the house you sat in your usual place on the counter while she finished cooking, soft music played in the background that was sometimes interrupted by the noise of the pans or the knife chipping something on the board. Mel told you about a new bar she wanted to visit while you showed her pictures of a dog you were thinking of adopting, every now and then silence fell on you but it wasn't awkward, before you resumed the conversation with another topic.

When the food was ready, the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie while enjoying your friend's tasty creation, which also was your favorite food.

Even if you were worried that you weren't correcting the exams, it was nice to take a moment to rest, being by her side always calmed you down not matter what was happening.

When the dishes emptied, you paused the film to wash them quickly; whenever Mel cooked you washed the dishes and vice versa, then grabbed chocolate from the shelf where you knew she kept them and went back to the couch to watch the rest of the movie.

When you had settled down next to her, Mel didn't press play on the movie and that made you curious, so you looked at her with a raised eyebrow

-"Play..."-You whispered and she continued to stare at you

-"What are you thinking? I can see the guilt in your face, you're thinking so loud that subtitles are about to come out of your ears" - Mel asked and you laughed

-"I was just thinking about school..."-You answered and she rolled her eyes

-"Today was supposed to be a night to distract you and relax... Don't tell me that the only way you're going to relax is by doing that thing that we did..." - she whispered with a mischievous smile and you shook your head blushing

-"That only happened once and that was because I was so stressed and tired that I couldn't sleep" - You muttered embarrassedly and Mel opened her arms smiling. A few years ago, you had to take an exam for your teacher application while you were teaching at Abbott, the night before you were due to take the exam, Mel had come to your house to cook something to eat and help you study. When it got late, you begged her to stay with you because you were nervous and scared. She when to bed with you but you couldn't fall asleep, so the redhead hugged you to her chest until you relaxed and fell asleep. That's when you discovered that having her that close calmed you down in an incredible way without having to take any pills or anything.

-"But it worked, so let's do it again."-The redhead commented and you sat on her lap blushing, you carefully hugged her waist and rested your head on her chest closing your eyes momentary as she scratched your hair-"Now I can feel how you stopped thinking, I'll press play on the movie" - The redhead hit play while still stroking your hair and you watch it still resting on her chest.

A few seconds later, your cell phones rang at the same time and that could only mean one thing, a message from school. The redhead grabbed her cell phone while still  stroking your hair and laughed as she read it, making her chest vibrate against your cheek.

-"You and I are in charge of being chaperones at the graduation party Ava wants to throw for the kids" - she muttered and put her cell phone down again

-"Good...I've never had a graduation party or been to one..."- You murmured against her chest with your eyes almost completely closed because of how relaxed you were.

-"Then I'll come pick you up with a corsage for you since you Wil ne my date to prom"-she commented jocking

-"I would love that" - You responded with your eyes finally closed, her perfume invading your senses, her warmth hugging your body, her gentle heartbeat synchronized with yours, the vibration of her voice against your ear every time she spoke, it was enough to block your overthinking brain and relax you completely-"Mel..."-You whispered sleepily and she urged you to follow with a soft hum-"do you think we are friends in another lifes too?"-Mel laughed at your question, whenever you were falling asleep, you would start asking weird and unexpected questions

-"I'm sure of it hon... In every life there is a Melissa who is dedicated to taking care and be next to one (Y/N), there can be no Melissa without you to accompany her, we need each other in all lives..."-she whispered kissing your forehead and you smiled with your eyes closed, almost asleep on the redhead's chest

-" I love you Mel-Mel"-You whispered babbling and the redhead's heart jumped and she doubted if you could hear it or not, how is it that your "I love you" had more effect on her than when her previous partners told her they love her, if you were just friends?... Why was she excited to think about being your date at prom when you were just friends?... Maybe what she was feeling from a few months now was just because she didn't had a boyfriend now... Or maybe you just were really good friends... Yeah... Friends... Why it hurt her thinking about you two just as friends?... Fuck, she was fucked...

-"I love you more hon, more than you know" - she whispered hugging you tight with a million questions in her head, sadly, you were already asleep to listen to her words and the meaning behind it.

[riacte]

Alright I love love love Skizz but why did people for FALSE & Skizz instead of False & H???? What???

It is because False gets overlooked even in a False centric poll. This is a pattern. Also sorry for using your ask as a vent post lol.

I love Skizz and his energy, I think he's awesome with people, he is certainly good at the whole "duo thing" buuuut this is not a Skizz duo poll. Or even a Hermitcraft duo poll. It is a False duo poll. I think people voted for Skizz because of Skizz, not False, or even Skizz-False. Like yeah it was funny when Skizz held False hostage in the charity event. But are people voting for moments like that or do they just like Skizz in general?

This was also what I was trying to see with the False MCC poll— 17 is of course iconic as a whole, and especially for Grian, and I would definitely rank it very high in a Hermit MCC poll (possibly right behind Blue9, sorry Orange10). But False had better performances in 29 and 10, and 9 had better chemistry than 17 because she didn't really get spoken over in 9. Or 10 and 29. (Whereas in 17 it was a Thing enough for Pete to mention it afterwards apparently.) 17 has cool False moments of course— SG the one I remember the most— but people don't really bring that up. So did people vote for 17 in a False centric poll because they liked False's performance in 17 and overall team chemistry (things related to and influenced by False) or because they like 17 in general?

It is not that deep but also seeing False's diminishing relevance in the mainstream HC fandom over the years is kinda... disappointing. Someone who's never watched a hermit on MCCReddit will mention False Supremacy. HBomb's chat loves False. Like I don't even know what happened?? False has been posting regularly, always have, she does her builds and collabs and pranks and infrastructure, she won the first event of the season, outsiders love her, and...? Like don't we love our slay cool #girlboss queen of hearts? Or does she need a different fanon archetype now? The mischievous prankster? The silly wet cat? The healer type who loves animals and gives them stupid names? The competitive warrior? Would you still love me when I'm no longer the designated girlboss of the group or whatever

Like ok yeah this is me being bitchy and a gatekeeper and False isn't even the most underrated hermit and she gets her share of love in fanart and stuff but yeah I've noticed the decline. You've got Redditors mentioning Empires people in the crossover in response to someone asking about Empires but not mentioning one hermit who was actually also in Empires. You've got people talking about "Hermitgals" but they replace False and Stress with Lizzie. You've got the fallout of Demise 2. You've got Redditors talking about Rendoc in relation to Ren like his only relevance is being Doc's friend/collab buddy when False exists and she's his favourite hermit. And you've got the False duo poll. Won't even go into the view counts/ sub counts because that's depressing for what feels like at least a third of the hermits (Cubfan you deserve way more). Doesn't feel good.

Back in 2020/21 she got shat on and her achievements ignored by some DSMP fans and now the same thing is happening but it's worse because it's from some HC fans. The call is coming from inside the house. And once again False isn't even the most overlooked hermit. For example Iskall STILL gets horrific hate comments about how he doesn't "deserve" to be a hermit because he plays VH more.

Hermitcraft is popular. I wish the other third of it is more popular.

[strawberrystepmom]

jotaro x f!reader. cw alcohol, age gap implied, unhealthy relationship implied. | divider by @cafekitsune, wc 1.3k

JK (DO NOT REPLY!): Want to get a beer tonight?

As if it’s mocking your twiddling thumbs, blinking in a beat with the laughter you hear in the back of your head, the cursor sits anxiously in the chat bubble just inches away from your face.

It’s 9:17 pm. It’s the eighteenth evening in August and as if a cosmic flip switched reminding him that it’s once again time to squeeze the last joy he can out of this year, Jotaro texts you. Just as he did last year. And the year before that. And the one before that…

Sighing, you tap out a quick “wrong number” and hover over the send button for a second longer than you actually want to. That second pushes you to highlight the entire text and erase it, a bubble indicating he’s typing popping up.

It disappears as quickly as it shows itself. You know it’s a take it or leave it offer.

Leaning against the wall in your bathroom, staring at your own towel clad reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, you groan the eagerness written all over your face. You know how this will go yet you can’t seem to learn better after all these years of the same rinse and repeat.

From August to October, Jotaro Kujo will be yours.

If you agree to go out with him tonight, he’ll come home with you. It’s a certainty, you can even feel warmth between your legs imagining welcoming him home for the first time in more than half a year. He’ll fall asleep next to you, wake up to make breakfast, kiss you on the temple and mumble an indistinct promise about seeing you later.

That later could be two days. One week. Two weeks. You don’t know exactly when it’ll happen but the second time he spends the night will be in the dog days of summer. Those fourteen sticky days that make you wish you existed anywhere but the sultry Gulf coast of Florida, the sun practically punishing you for attempting to distract from her shine when she catches wind of the way he gazes down at you even when she’s out.

He’ll come by your office at the Speedwagon Foundation, two buildings away from where his is located. You will be asked to join him for some evening research which is really just an excuse for him to take you out on a research vessel, a small bit comfortable speedboat, to catch one of those gorgeous sky painted sunsets. To review research. To talk, to silently enjoy one another’s company until the tension becomes too much and he kisses you while the stars wake from their daybed.

These stars will bring him home to you. You’ll spend your evening with your fingers tangled in sea-salt waved black hair streaked with gray. The dim lamp in your room will illuminate him for the faintest moment when you’re enjoying him afterward, still impeccably toned arms for his age wrapped around your waist. You’ll wonder, briefly, how you managed to catch Poseidon with nothing more than a worm on a hook.

The cold air of your apartment, technically a condo as you’ll correct him when he gives you shit about still not owning a home, will lull both of your heated bodies to sleep. A tangle of limbs, wishes and hopes that maybe August doesn’t have to leave so quickly though she’s days away from being a memory as the months before her.

September will have him in your bed every night.

“We’re headed to the same place in the morning,” he’ll deadpan through kisses though you’ll catch the tiniest note of amusement in his tone. “May as well.”

You won’t argue. Not when the proverbial clock is running out, the hot Florida summer fading into a less sticky fall. Maple trees across the Speedwagon Foundation campuses will rustle overhead while you walk in tandem through the courtyard, parting ways at the building that houses the corporate offices to your respective research labs.

The two of you will officially be put on winter standby at the end of September. This means the rest of the year will be spent stapled to desks, laptops writing grant requests for the first quarter of next year, and each other.

Your legs will be draped across his lap feeding him Halloween candy despite his protests. He’ll watch you stumble out of bed wearing nothing but his shirts that come down to your knees. You’ll cook dinner, he’ll come home to you or even more blissfully you’ll arrive together, at the same time, almost as if you’re a real couple.

November is when the cracks will begin to show. It isn’t restlessness that drives him from you, you realized several years ago, it’s fear.

“Do you want to spend Thanksgiving with my sister this year? She finally has room for us to stay.” You’ll ask, innocently, hoping for once you will get a resounding yes. A please. Anything that can help you believe this love is tangible, something he feels and wants, and not just an inevitability.

Instead you’ll get a non-committal hum.

“Have to check with my mom first. I’m sure she’ll find an excuse to come stateside.”

You’ll feel your heartbeat though instead of the usual warmth that fills you when you think of him it’ll be cold, the winter not yet making its way into the air but making its way into you. This is how it will always be.

By December he’ll be infrequently staying with you, if he is at all, flying between Tampa and Tokyo to visit his family. At least the members of it who are still living and want to see him. You’ll lay in bed, sniffling and recalling all of the times you’ve beamed with pride from the crowd while he’s spoken as Dr. Kujo.

How every time he’s made eye contact with you and smiled at you and you alone. How you’re the only one who even knows he’s smiling in the first place, the corner of his lip turned up just enough to expose a deep dimple.

You’ll be ready to call it off yourself by New Year. You even already know what you’ll send, a little bit tipsy from champagne and full of enough good cheer to keep the blues away.

You: i hope this one treats you better, jojo. happy new year ❤️

Jotaro will wake up, half a day ahead of you already in his homeland, and he’ll feel guilty. He’ll stare dumbly at his phone, that cursor blinking in the same cadence as your laughter. It’s a sound he can hear if it’s quiet for longer than a second, your inhale and exhale both.

He’ll stand and stare at himself in the mirror just as you are now, wondering what the right decision is. Can you forgive him if he doesn’t reach out to you again until next August? How many summers are left until what’s left of your patience runs out?

Rolling your shoulders, you pick up your phone and your thumbs work to type out a quick message.

You: been a while. reservoir in about 45? bet they’re dead tonight.

You don’t have the strength it takes to tell him no and he won’t either when he sees the name of your shared favorite spot. Not when your heart pounds as that same bubble pops up and disappears again, anxiety making every bit of you turn until a message appears on screen.

JK (DO NOT REPLY!): Sorry about that. We can talk about it more soon. Be careful.

The hourglass has already begun pouring its sand, the message the same as it always is. Sorry, see you later, let’s do it again. A stronger woman would take her own all caps, glaring advice but unfortunately you prefer to honor what the hands of fate hold for you, more enamored with a man whose love has a time limit more than you are yourself.

At least you’ll get him for five months.

[sheep-from-rad]

Spicy Imagines (ft. Alhaitham and Kaveh) Genshin x Reader 

Note: I had these ideas as separate fanfics but it was too short so I just made them into one. I would have published it earlier this week but I have fallen down the Alhaitham/Kaveh angst rabbit hole and wasn’t able to get up from it until this afternoon. Anyway, enjoy!~ Extra note (please read): I will be entering the big city soon meaning I will be leaving some of things here at home. I might not be able to go publish a fanfic for weeks and weeks because it will be a clinical internship. Still, I will try my hardest to make content!~ Warnings: spicy, mentions of bondage and toys XD <Masterlist 1> ------- <Masterlist 2>

Kaveh 

Being an architect and being named as the Light of Kshahrewar, being meticulous and having an eye for detail is something that Kaveh is very talented with. 

Whenever Alhaitham is out, he makes his merry way to make the shared house more ‘homey’. He’ll decorate it with paintings, with flowers, and with furniture, which sometimes lead to petty fights whenever the scribe is home. 

Having an eye for detail is probably one of the things why after one magnum opus, he found himself down in debt and still drowning in it. Well, it’s not like he can just make a building and that’s it right? 

He takes the habits of looking out for detail everywhere especially inside his room once the doors have closed and his roommate is out. 

Kaveh will take his time typing you up with the ribbons that he soaked in warm water beforehand, making sure that it won’t leave a mark on your skin. That after all is his job to do and not the ribbon’s job. 

He’ll fix the lights inside his room, making sure that it will show the awaiting flower fastened with ribbons on his bed. 

Kaveh is taking longer than usual. His eyes already darkened by the dim lit room looked like predatory glances at the corner of the room. His hands skillfully erased and redraw the lines in his sketchbook, taking notes of every detail present in front of him. It’s fascinating how he never seemed to miss any detail at all. From the ribbons that tie your thighs apart, to the sweat that drips from your neck down to your chest, to the way your eyes roll from every thrust the hand operated toy gives you, and to the wetness that pools and is slowly staining the sheets beneath you. 

It’s a shame that the paper and charcoal can’t capture your whines and pitiful whimpers but that’s for him to savor once he puts his sketchbook down. 

Alhaitham 

Theoretical and then practical. It is one unwritten law that every scholar learns once they enter the Akademiya. A lesson that became a practice to Alhaitham even after his days as a scholar. 

While it is a standard, it is not really something that should be done in everything. If it wasn’t for Kaveh noticing his attempts for courting and then for sure Alhaitham would still be spending his nights wide awake reading books about courting and planning the best possible scenario to make you say yes. 

Alhaitham was very vanilla behind closed doors. He’ll make sure that both of you are satisfied and properly cleaned every night you lay together. If he makes a mark that sure will bruise, he’ll look at the ice crates and make sure you’re treated properly before he can go to sleep so you won’t worry about covering anything when morning comes. 

It all comes to a stop when a tired student accidentally passes a folder with an erotic book instead of his thesis proposal. This man hates novels, he just reads them for the sake of reading and then forgets they exist afterwards. 

He’ll rather stick with boring and nonsensical drafts made by students than read a romance book but here he is spending his whole night trying to make sense of the book and a mind full of thoughts on how he could make use of the book. 

You wondered what happened. The best guess that he’s stressed out from the ‘junk’ that the scholars are passing on his desk. There was never a time where his office was clean and lucky for him the ceilings are high or else the room will really be flooded with papers by now. One particular harsh thrust pulled you out of your head evoking  a loud moan at the same time and knocking you off your hands and knees. 

“Oh god !” 

The said man only let out a miniscule smile as he continued the rough pace. “There is no god here darling, you’re calling the wrong being”, he said, emphasizing each word with a thrust. HE snaked his hands underneath your form, scooping you up from the sheets, before resting it on your throat. 

“You know my name right? Why don’t you call it that?” As he felt your heartbeat tripled in pace, Alhaitham mentally thanked the student that accidentally passed the book. Maybe he should consider their thesis proposal.

Taglist: @uchihaeirin @eccedentesiast-sapphic @tinandabin @chihawari