#The house will no longer exist afterwards

[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!

[metyouinthehallway]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

Matt sturniolo x fem!reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Matt knew he loved you. He loved the dimples on your cheeks when you really smiled. He loved your tender touches. The sweet nothings you’d mutter when the two of you held each other in the darkness of his bedroom.

He knew he was in love.

Late night drives with you, aimlessly driving around the streets of Boston. He’d stare in awe as you sang your heart out to the songs you loved most. He’d make an effort to yield at the yellow lights with you. Usually, he’d run through them in a hurry to get to his destination, but with you? He cherished every moment. He’d wait at stop signs a few seconds longer than intended just to have you in his presence for a little while longer.

Cooking in the kitchen with you would consist of him having no clue what he was doing, giggles and sweet kisses being traded as you two would turn the simplest meal into something much more complex than it needed to be. You’d reassure Matt that he would get better at cooking as time went on, knowing he would never willingly cook for himself unless you were next to him.

Sex with you, being skin to skin, him taking his time with you, making sure you were enjoying it just as much as he was. He’d praise you, tell you that you were made for him, that you fit around him so perfectly. He would never skip out on the aftercare either. Always grabbing a warm rag or running a shower for you. Giving you plenty of cuddles afterwards.

Every longing stare, every breath between kisses, every single smile on his face that you caused? That was love, but Matt was terrified to admit it.

There’s one specific memory, Matt pinpoints it as the moment he knew he’d fallen in love with you. Three months into the two of you dating, it was nearly four in the morning but you’d convinced him to take you to a park down the street from your house. Walking hand in hand to the park, you wasted no time scaling the rock wall and laying at the top of it. Matt followed behind you, panting out of exhaustion once he reached the top.

The two of you lay at the top of the rock wall, staring up at the night sky. Silence engulfing you both as you admire the faint stars that twinkle in the cloudy sky.

Matt’s hand snuck down to grab ahold of yours, intertwining you fingers with his, Matt turns his head, admiring the moonlight that perfectly illuminated your features. He didn’t lift his eyes from your side profile, you being the most beautiful girl in the world to him.

“I can feel you staring, Matt!” You giggle, turning your head to meet his gaze. Matt squeezed your hand in response, letting out a quiet sigh of contentment.

“You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” He hums, his hair falling over top of his forehead. The entire population of Boston, Massachusetts had fallen asleep hours ago. Yet, you and Matt were wide awake, completely enamored by each other.

He could see the faint blush rise to your cheeks at his compliment, you attempting to hide your face with your hands. Shifting so he was propped up on his elbows, he looks down at you. Truly studying your features. How could anyone talk down about you? To Matt, you were the closest thing to heaven on earth.

“Stop it…” you whine, still unsure of how to take a compliment. You wanted to say it so bad, you wanted to speak that three word sentence into existence. But, you didn’t.

“It’s true,” Matt chuckles, moving your hands from your face, he leans down and places a sweet kiss to your lips. “I think you’re perfect.” That was his way of telling you he loved you.

That moment, on top of the rock wall? That’s when Matt had realized he loved you more than he’d ever loved anyone else. It’d take him two more months to verbalize it, but he felt it that night.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[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.

[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

[strangefa11]

This question may have a more obvious answer because I don't remember a lot of TMA.

How did Tim and Danny end up in Jon and Martin's care? What was their adjustment period like?

Furthermore, what was Jon and Martin's adjustment period like after ending up somewhere new? Do either of them have any of powers from their previous life?

Sorry if these are too much. I just really like your AU 😅

it’s not too much at all!! This did turn out super long though so there’re some details I had to skip… oops… but anyway I tried to go in chronological order. I hope this answers your questions tl;dr at the end :3

Okok so after MAG 200 Jon and Martin arrive somewhere else along with the fears. Their bodies come with them, so still have all their scars and marks (and also Jon is bleeding out lol). The somewhere else they end up in is similar to their original universe in some ways but also very different in others, for instance the Magnus Institute doesn’t exist. Because of the differences the fears also manifest differently than they used to, almost exclusively as (mostly) physical monsters rather than the more insidious metaphysical presence that they have in the podcast. Also no Leitners but I think that’s more because the fears only just arrived so they haven’t had time to appear yet (hint hint).

Jmart still have their connections to their entities as well as their abilities but those are also different, they focus more on the physical aspects of the entities as well. Jon isn’t omniscient anymore, he still Knows things occasionally but in general his abilities are a little more related to watching than archiving (the reason for that is an explanation all on its own so I’ll skip it for now in the interest of not making this TOO long). He also heals from being stabbed pretty immediately but I think that’s more of a one time thing than a consistent ability afterwards.

Martin’s abilities are mostly more specifically centred around fog and physical isolation than emotional distance. They're also a lot weaker than Jon’s (another explanation I’ll save for later lol)

They manage to get themselves together and get jobs and a home etc etc the specifics of all that don't really matter. They meet Tim a few years later while he's being chased by a monster (I think it's probably a Dark monster). They save him (Jon melts it or something).

Through talking to Tim they learn a few things 1) he’s definitely the somewhere else version of their Tim Stoker 2) he’s in foster care with his brother 3) he encountered the monster after sneaking out. After learning these things Jmart naturally do the responsible adult thing and help him sneak back into the house after making him promise not to sneak out again.

Obviously Tim wants to know more about the monster that tried to eat him so after some convincing they tell him he can visit them at the library Martin works at.

Tim starts visiting them semi-regularly, sometimes Danny comes along. Jmart tell him a little about the fears but not about their past at first. Eventually they learn from Tim that the foster home isn't great. It’s not outright abusive but the couple is very conservative christian and it’s just not a good fit. Tim doesn’t want to move, though, because he’s worried he and Danny will be separated.

They don't actually adopt Tim and Danny until after they’ve already gotten to know them fairly well, and they start with fostering them. So the adjustment period is a little more natural. I will say they definitely get to know and bond with Tim a lot faster than Danny. Danny definitely follows Tim’s lead though so he’s more inclined to trust them when he sees that his big brother likes them.

There’s a bunch more I could say about the specifics of the fear mechanics in the new world and the details of Tim and Danny’s history but this is already way longer than I planned so I’m gonna cut it here for now :’)

TL;DR: The fears are a little different in the new universe but Jmart do still have their fear abilities, they rescue Tim from a monster and eventually adopt him and Danny from their less than ideal foster home.

[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

[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

[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!

[thelunarfairy]

I will never be able to forgive myself for this

"Kou...I tried to continue being the exorcist I was supposed to be, because I needed to be…."

"But at some point, I stopped holding on to the strength…."

When the one who always walked with his chin up finally fell, not because of the literal meaning of the fall, but to finally be able to show the most human and fragile side that existed within him.

When something had broken, when his eyes lost their shine and petrified, when that feeling was so intense that it made him reach the ground.

The tears, the response to the relief of the pain.

But there was no relief, no tears, there was no time to suffer, not only for not being able to protect his younger brother, but for not protecting himself.

He still fights, even when he fell, even when physically or mentally injured, he was forced to get up

Like the other times.

He can't fall, he can't cry, he can't suffer.

He has to be the perfect older brother.

But nobody is perfect.

And that's the beauty of being human, you have to break once or twice to learn something valuable - even if it's not valuable now, even if it doesn't seem worth it - you have no choice, life decides what you need to learn to continue.

Teru's perfection fell, maybe not for the first time, but so that his most human and imperfect side could appear, so that he could grow and improve.

But at what cost?

Would the pain be worth it?

Pain… it's not easy… no one teaches us how to deal with it, no one tells us what we need to do, and even if they did, everyone deals with pain differently.

No one but you can learn and understand how to deal with pain, if you can ever deal with it.

There is no anger, no revenge that can cure it, nothing will take away the guilt of your failure or the weight you carry on your shoulders.

Losing someone you love has no cure.

You learn to live with it.

If you want to keep living, you have to find a reason in life after the loss.

Pain takes you down deep paths, some too dark to see the way back.

But Teru is the one who has the power of thunder, which despite being dangerous still emits light.

Emits light

And the moment he shone the brightest was the one that brought his own downfall.

Maybe, the last time he emitted the light.

Because maybe he no longer had any reason to fight.

Or, he would have enough motivation to sacrifice everything in the name of his brother.

The light that tried to break the void, but could not make choices.

Teru exorcised his younger brother, and died soon after, theoretically speaking, eternally trapped in that house, together because they were bound to a cruel destiny.

A bitter parallel.

The older brother who feels obliged to exorcise/kill the younger one, because he is possessed, and who sacrifices himself afterwards.

One for revenge and the other for love, perhaps.

The love that hurts….

Teru will never forgive himself for not being good enough to protect the one he loves the most.

The light that shone for the last time.

[firstkanaphans]

do u think that the safe house incident changed first? ppl were saying he stopped being clingy on cameras bcs of that

I assume you're talking about the incident with Foei? I haven't personally noticed any difference in how physically affectionate First is willing to be on camera since then. Foei's comment was made in reference to how clingy First was being with Tay and First didn't stop being clingy with Tay afterwards. In fact, when Tay left the house, he just started being clingy with Mond instead lol.

I've talked about this a bit before, but I think the crux of First's growth over the past few years has been him learning to accept himself for who he is rather than trying to be someone he's not. I think prior to The Eclipse, First tried to present himself as more masculine, but with the success he's achieved in BL—and with Khaotung specifically—he seems to feel more comfortable just existing.

He's always been very physically affectionate with Khaotung, but I do think during The Eclipse and Only Friends eras, he would hold back showing that affection in public. I don't think it had anything to do with Foei, though. I think Foei was just a symptom of a much larger problem where First felt like he was expected to behave a certain way in order to fit into this mold people put him in. He and Khaotung have been more outwardly affectionate recently, though, and I think it's because they're getting more comfortable just being themselves.

If the Foei incident affected anything, I think it was First simply deciding that he no longer had any interest in maintaining relationships with people who don't love him for who he is. His social circle has shrank a bit over the past few years, but he seems much happier for it.

[skay-ali]

Tears of an angel

You had a dream, a very blurry one, but the few clear memories clung firmly in your head.

A dream where no one knew you other than your mother, family and friends, you were a girl who grew up in the middle class, with a working mother, who was always there for you, even if her life was full of work, a life where you could sit in the sidewalk on a salty or cloudy day and eat an ice cream, without bothering to get dirty or eat in an unattractive way, just a happy girl enjoying her ice cream.

You could ride your bike to school with your friends, sit in the cafeteria with all your friends, who told their craziest stories or problems, the same people who listened to you afterwards and supported you.

A camera flash, and your smiling face, the yearbook photo, where all your classmates signed themselves and you did the same like a celebrity.

In your small town, the only one you knew, and where you returned after graduating and meeting a boy, with whom you joined your life. The big house they built together, with a huge patio, full of plants, from giant trees to rose bushes.

It was a dream, but it was the best one you had, seeing your mother and your little family, together at a campfire, you would never forget such a thing.

Not when your reality was a painting without colors, just a dull gray, you had no one, your mother no longer existed, you never had good friends or you don't remember them, a boy... is much further away from your possibilities.

Thousands of flashes went off, but they were no longer for yearbook photos, or for a photo album, these were to feed the hunger of men addicted to famous women and their beauty, even if they were much younger, photos for women who loved gossip and seeing the misfortunes of other women.

Your hands with ice cream, sweets or a delicious homemade dinner were replaced by tasteless or extravagant dishes, the size of a coin. Your night of picnic was replaced by a day, with a walk of shame, where many whispered.

“I knew that she murdered the man who was holding her hostage.”

“They say she looked possessed.”

“ha… I think she finally showed what a crazy psychopath she really is.”

Thousands of ridicule and criticism. While your face seemed stoic, the black glasses covering your eyes did a good job of hiding your teary eyes that were burning from shedding tears.

Go your way and don't pay attention to anyone.

“How is he not in jail?”

“surely her father paid so that she would not be arrested”

Ha... that was the only thing your father could do for all the misfortunes that carrying his last name caused you. And he didn't even do it without thinking about it, at the trial your father barely appeared, only his money and one of his best lawyers, it was lucky to have Alfred with you.

Your own father reserved his judgment, he didn't even advocate for you, maybe he knew that you were actually someone evil, maybe it was better for him not to interfere so as not to pay the price when you did the same thing again, he discovered, the disgusting monster that you were.

His stoic face without any feeling, no words, what kind of father does that, if you killed someone, you stabbed him until his last breath, but there were no fathers who were more compassionate with their children after doing more atrocious acts, you You didn't eliminate that man because you wanted to, he had you as a hostage, he was like the other men made of shadows that tormented you, he was acting violently, without control, he threatened you, you felt that he would end you, thousands of eyes looking at you without doing anything, none of those present thought of defending you, none of their eyes collided with yours, they just diverted to another place.

The only eyes you saw were those of a woman next to you, but even she couldn't help, they were pointing a gun at her.

Then you saw yourself in a glass, the woman who had the strength to save you, the one who fearlessly controlled your body, took a gun and stuck it at the man who threatened you, over and over again in his torso, who smiled, with a great joy to finally be freed and take revenge.

And after a few minutes you came back and saw your hands with a red liquid. It was her and you in turn, both of you…. And yet they classified you as a psychopath, who deserved to be locked up.

You only see her, your reflection smiling and whispering

I told you so.

You should never have stayed with your family.

They would abandon you. now look at you...

A hit from a table brought you out of your tranze.

“Because you did it, Miss Wayne,” the prosecutor looked at you, after a long interrogation in court.

You stared at her, this woman was becoming a nuisance, so maddening, because she kept adding more salt to the wound, she was very mean to you, with her look of superiority and her touch of envy.

She continued with her words and cruel questions towards you, no vague answer calmed her, she wanted to continue digging into your well-buried secrets.

For that woman who stood as if she owned the entire stand with a self-centered smile, you were guilty, a murderer, who deserved to be punished for what she did, you knew very well that she was right, you were a monster who had to pay, but You were scared, and you knew that nothing was worse punishment than being with yourself.

Your hands didn't stop shaking when you listened to her, you had to leave them in your lap so it wouldn't be noticeable, you couldn't afford to lose your temper, they would have no mercy, they would brand you as a false victim.

His words full of venom stung, they hurt you little by little, because they were exactly the truth, and his very intrusive questions were the straw that broke the camel's back.

Desperate for all his cutting words and his exhausting questions, you began to spit out everything, your secrets from the smallest to the largest, the ones that led you to commit such a crime.

“I didn't know, I was desperate, nothing stopped... they kept going, they kept targeting me like before” you spoke calmly, all the calm you could muster inside your body trying to maintain your sanity.

“no one wanted to help me, even though… when that man… did that…” you could barely breathe because of the pressure and turbulent feelings that were flooding you, you could barely formulate a complete sentence.

“Tell me, miss, what this man was supposedly doing for you to end him in such a cruel way.”

“I was doing it again like the others!!!… I didn't want to be his toy again” you shouted.

“It's not fair, that they ask for money for me, but still torture me for their fun!!!”

"and I have to keep quiet, and not say anything because the heroes saved me, everything is fine again, right? It doesn't matter what happens because I'm safe and I should be grateful"

“I had to stay silent, because after all something horrible didn't happen to me like other victims” you repeated the cruel words that were said to you after your first kidnapping, and the following times, even though you desperately wanted to confess how horrible your short stay with him was. those criminals, you got used to receiving what they gave you, staying silent in front of the vigilantes, the police and posing calmly for the news, until you got home and locked yourself in your room to suffer in silence.

“I couldn't stand it, she couldn't stand it, she was angry, so she took the gun and attacked the man without mercy, I wouldn't feel another horrible monster following me.”

“I saved myself... I did it for the first time” you smiled non-stop, even with your eyes shedding tears.

“Now judge me on that.”

You returned to your starting point, where everyone looked at you with hatred and repulsion or as a naive girl who could be used.

Hearing endless disguised insults, full of arrogance, seeing looks full of envy and contempt, seeing men trying to surpass you, gossip and news of you making you look like a spoiled girl and out of control.

You took refuge again in your lonely apartment, you stopped going out, your life would be better in a place away from everyone, where no one would hurt you anymore.

You left everyone behind and took refuge in another place. away from the looks that hurt you.

You said goodbye to the hopelessness that reigned in your life.

You confined yourself to a new city, full of thousands of people, famous, easy to get lost and not be found.

A small change of look was enough to go unrecognized. Although most of your days were spent locked in your apartment inside a huge building.

Despite your fear of going out almost always, you did it if it was to participate in some brands that invited you to their new projects, and much more for small charity events.

The letters you received of thanks from the people you helped became a part of social interaction for you.

You also helped one of your acquaintances from the psychiatric center you were in as part of your sentence, the disturbed young film director.

Appearing in your independent films was fun, plus it told people that you're still alive, but that they would no longer take advantage and use you as something they can have for their entertainment.

If being yourself, being happy and not being terrified of the people around you meant disappearing and isolating yourself, you would do it...

...........................................

somewhere else, far away from where naive little miss wayne was taking refuge.

Her family was desperately searching for her.

A video of Wayne surrounded the internet, in no time he became famous, and everyone now had a new star to love.

The family, who had forgotten or preferred not to say anything about that girl, knew that they had ruined it.

Burece Wayne accepted his mistake, one of the biggest he could have made, he left his daughter alone, without caring about the things she was experiencing, he believed that a card full of money was the only thing his daughter needed.

a girl who never caused him problems, he believed that giving her all the luxuries was enough. I never checked it, one less burden in his life, it was already something big, maintaining his appearance as a millionaire, his role as a hero and being the father of many children who needed his help, was already a lot on his plate.

His little daughter suffered so much and he was never able to help her.

He still remembers how her face showed all the pain she carried, in the middle of the court, how desperate she sounded.

Since he found out what she did at that gala, he couldn't look at her, blaming her for that big mistake she made, he never tried to understand her.

He let that little resentment he felt for that girl's mother kill him. when she understood it, when she realized her big mistake, that it was all her fault, for never having taken care of that girl, for never seeing her for more than a second, for never protecting her in the best way from criminals and leeches who wanted something. of his family. It was too late she was gone.

.............

A girl with delicate features and delicately dressed, looked at her reflection with great attention.

She had spent a long time locked up in a dark room, which was only illuminated by the dim lights of the candles and during the day by the light that came in through the room's only window.

She was serving the punishment her grandparents gave her for breaking the rules.

Even in his mind his grandmother's harsh words were still present.

"Your mother failed us and even more so when she appeared with you"

"because my beloved daughter had to go and leave us with you"

"You will never be perfect girl, you are just despicable, a living image of your father."

Although those words were common because he said them when he was taking care of you.

They became more horrible and terrifying when he got angry.... Their claws embedded themselves in your skin and punctured as deep as they could.

his screams for you to look in the mirror and the hits he gave you if you looked away.

one word sharper than the other...

Infinite tears fell from your eyes and even with that the desire to stop crying, due to a threat to maintain composure.

The reflection eventually began to change, over time, it was no longer you, it was another girl trapped in the mirror.

A smiling reflection appeared and although you knew it would bring you nothing good, at least it was company in the lonely punishment room.

[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

[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.

[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.