#wanted to make this post episode but there were too many sets to make and then forgot about it

[hayden-christensen]

Incorrect.

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN as DARTH VADER Ahsoka - Part Five: Shadow Warrior (2023)

[parfaitblogs]

can I ask a blurb of post prison spencer and sunshine reader? She works in the BAU as the media liaison and when she rescues him in the episode 300 he looks at her and is like angel? Am I in Heaven?

spencer reid x sunshine!reader. fluff/hurt/comfort. also angst if you squint. i should’ve just slapped smut in here to make it a quinfecta! 0.5k words. gn!liaison!reader. set during '300'.

a/n: thank you for sending me back into orbit by getting me to rewatch those two episodes. i need spencer reid biblically. unfortunately that's not what this blurb is about. but i was audibly barking every time i pictured him. i am terribly sorry for keeping you on edge about when this was going to be posted </3 i wasn’t sure how happy i was with it for the longest time. thank u for the request ♡

spencer reid who accepted his fate the second he was taken hostage. because honestly, the likelihood of his team finding and rescuing him in time was slim to none, and he had lost wars to hope too many times before.

spencer reid who tried to stall his death with a speech, trying to dull the uncomfortable ache in his chest thinking nobody was coming to save him. maybe he could lie his way into believing his team had found him, and he would picture their faces before he inevitably died.

spencer reid who definitely did not expect the awfully loud gunshot — one, then two — ringing throughout the air, followed by panic and yelling. who wished he could've been relieved to see each face of his team slowly appearing in his view, followed by more gunshots, and the promise that he was safe.

he had already accepted death. 

but, spencer reid who's entire facade changed the second you came into view. no gun in hand, because you never were expected to need one, which was even more horrifying to him than the fact that he had been milliseconds away from his own death.

spencer reid who stared at you like he was but a planet and you were the sun he was orbiting, something he knew he'd get teased for later. but right now you were here and he was watching you attempt to unbuckle each leather strap holding his limbs into place, strained laughter escaping him every time you failed because your hands were shaking so hard.

spencer reid who's face fell when you finally met his gaze to get the leather strap holding his head in place, and he could see the tears brimming your eyes and he could hear the sniffles you were intaking to keep your emotions at bay. an achingly painful contrast to the facade he was used to seeing on you.

spencer reid who asked "what's wrong?" and who's heart ached when your response was "i thought i was going to lose you". spencer reid who's heart probably shouldn't have then stuttered like that in his chest at your admission, and he definitely shouldn't have allowed the rush of hope at your words.

but, worse than that, he realised he had accepted his death without thinking, and if he died, he was leaving you and perhaps that was worse than any situation he has been in before, in all fifteen years he's at the bureau.

and you, who's vision was awful from the tears you were attempting to keep at bay, yet you stared at him for a beat, taking in every graze and bruise on his face the best you could to commit them to memory, before wrapping both arms around him and pulling him into you. spencer reid who sobbed in your arms; a scenario you had never even considered the possibility of because spencer reid did not cry anymore, and prison had fractured him in ways you cannot even begin to comprehend. but he was here, and he was crying again, and sad sight or not, he was feeling.

spencer reid who thanked you over and over again for finding him, because no, he really didn't want to die. 

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[fictionismyreality3]

Pretty in Pink

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, bimbo!reader vibes

Notes: omg a semi-decent length fic? And I just posted yesterday?! 😱 guys I’m actually gonna-

The alarm was set, pink, hello kitty shaped. 30 minutes left on the timer until the first pizza was done. John would be home in 45 minutes. That was, like, a long time to set the table and everything. It wasn’t often John let you cook dinner. Usually you were relegated to sitting on the couch and watching your shows while John rolled up his sleeves and got the frying pans out. It wasn’t that you couldn’t cook.

It was just that, like, John said he didn’t want you miss your shows and stuff.

Tempted, your eyes drifted to your usual spot on the couch. The warm, fuzzy, chunky knit blanket sat invitingly against the soft cushions, the remote looking at you as if to urge you on. You would just watch half an episode or something.

The sounds of the tv blaring wasn’t something that was unusual for John to hear coming home. Overdramatic, lilting voices echoed through the door of your apartment even before he had the key in the lock. His back ached, tired from years of service and sitting at a desk all day to reports Kate had forced him to finally look at.

But it was worth it.

Worth the headache dealing with new recruits, worth it sorting through the legal papers trying to clear the squad for a new mission. Worth the bullet holes. Worth it because he got to come home to you.

His pretty little bird.

He’d kept you all tucked away the moment he saw you fumbling with your umbrella at the bus stop, too distracted by the music in your headphones to notice the strap was still buttoned. He’d added you to his military papers and his will after your first date later that week.

John opened the door wordlessly, kicking off his boots being careful not to get dirt on the carpet, your pouting voice still in his head. It was warm. A candle lit in the entryway, the sweet scent of strawberries coating his nose.

“You here, sweetheart?” He called out, gliding through the apartment towards the living room.

“Baby! I missed you so much!” You squealed, hopping up excitedly, the blanket around your shoulders falling to the floor. You were just where John had expected you to be, the light from the tv dancing across your face.

So fucking pretty.

Two large hands held your cheeks as you bounded up to him. Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, he pulled your smaller body flush to his. With a deep breath, John inhaled the sugary smell that seemed to seep out of your pores, running his rough hands down the silk nightie you were wearing to cup the flesh of your ass.

“This f’me?” You giggled in response. God, he loved that fucking giggle.

“Thought you’d like it, daddy.” With a chirp, you leaned up on your tippy toes and pressed a kiss to his scruffy jaw.

Taking the opportunity, John snaked a hand up your throat, gripping the tender flesh and forcing his tongue into your mouth. There was something soothing, as twisted as it was, to have something pure and naive to come home to. To him, you were like a reminder that a world existed outside of his work.

And you made such pretty noises.

No matter how many times John had kissed you before, you always seemed to react like a lamb just learning to walk. All flushed cheeks and stumbling words. And it was even better since you were so obvious in your lust. After just a few seconds, you were already pawing at the corded muscles of his shoulders, demanding more and more.

But it wasn’t your fault when he was, like, so hot and stuff. You know?

Your legs hit the back of the couch, John forcing you onto your back, putting a pillow under your head before attacking your neck with kisses. The scratchy burn of his beard against your skin had you pressing your hips up, searching for that friction you needed.

“That’s it, luv. Just got home an’ you’re already needy, huh?” The words had your head spinning, a mewl slipping past your lips.

“Make those pretty noises, sweet girl. God, you’re such a-”

Blaring, high pitched beeps rang out, grating against your ears. John froze for a moment, his body automatically positioning itself to future cover yours, as if to protect you from an unseen threat.

Furrowing your brows, you tried to figure out where the noise was coming from, which was kinda hard when John’s hands were on you and-

Oh, right!

“Oh my gosh! My pizza!” Before he could react, you squirmed out from under him and ran into the kitchen, frantically opening the oven door.

Smoked billowed out, tainting the air and making you cough. You could feel the warmth of John coming to stand behind you, taking the oven mitts from your hands when you went to reach for them.

“Let me do it.”

“But, like-”

“Hush, sweetheart.”

Pulling the now ruined pizza out of the oven, he didn’t even have to look at you to know you had a pout on your face. After cracking open a window, John came back into the kitchen to find you examining the damage done to your beautiful creation. “I was trying to make a heart.”

The frown of your face sent a pang through him, and he could already see the tears welling up in your eyes the more you looked at the blackened and misshapen rock of dough. “S’alright, princess.”

Tugging you into him, one hand went to your hip, the other running through your hair.

“No it’s not. It was supposed to be a surprise for you. Hearts are supposed to be red or.. or, like, pink or something.” Your voice hitched, your bottom lip wobbling. “Not black!”

Trying to hold in his chuckle, Price nodded in sympathy, tucking your head into his burly chest.

“Yeah, but.. I’ve got a good enough heart right in front of me, luvie.”

Squinting your eyes, you looked around, trying to follow John’s gaze. There was the heart shaped salt holder, the dishtowel with hearts on it, the heart on the card next to the flowers he got you last week, the blackened heart shaped pizza, the-

“Luvie.” You blinked up at him. “M’talking about this heart right here.” John cooed at you, pinching your cheek.

A bubble of confusion popped in your head, and you looked from him to the blackened pizza and back again. Silence hung in the air for a second before it was punctured by your giggling.

“Oh, like, um..” He smiled down at you. “Like mine?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just like yours.”

[cuteandhughesy]

hiii!!! i love your writing, like the angst and the fluff is amazing. i actually had a request for arturs silovs (canucks) or jeremy swayman (bruins obv, for now at least) where they go on reader's popular hockey podcast, which kinda goes viral in the hockey community with many ppl shipping the two, and they kind of get pushed into doing more media stuff together as it brings views for the teams and stuff? im sorry thats all i got, feel free to add or change this if you do choose to write it. thanks

The Alchemy | Jeremy Swayman

summary: having your own sports podcasts was one of the most enjoyable and rewarding jobs you could ever have. when a particular episode with bruins goaltender blows up - you are jermey are pushed together to film more videos. it doesn't help that everybody is shipping you two together - making your growing crush on him become harder to mask.

9.6K

warnings: SFW! friends to lovers | mention of covid -19 | fishing | suggestive dialogue | kissing

a/n: thank you for the request! your idea was so cute that I just had to write! I chose sway obviously so I hope yall love <3 happy halloween 🎃

link to masterlist

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

when you were a little girl you'd often find yourself huddled on the cozy material of the living room couch, watching your dads tv shows until way past your bedtime. you'd always stay quiet, eyes focused only on the tv, too scared that if you'd move you'd be put into bed.

that's when you first fell in love with hockey. having no choice but to watch the tv and seeing professional athletes zip around the stark ice at high speeds, shooting dangerously, and throwing hits - you were immediately drawn into the crazy world of hockey.

but when you're a girl and you express your love for any kind of professional sport, you become immediately labeled; gold digger, clout chaser, a bunny. whether it is football, baseball, basketball, or hockey, nobody believes girls when they say they're into the sport simply because they like the sport.

that's what made you want to start pursuing a hockey related career. you wanted to show everybody that girls, just as well as men, could watch and enjoy a sport without any ulterior motives.

in 2020, with covid-19 at its peak, you started to create hockey related content and post it on tiktok. it was simple videos with just you and your mini microphone - discussing game play, trending and popular news, and nhl players.

it blew up, and after a year of tiktok content, you were approached by barstool sports with the opportunity of a lifetime.

starting a professional sports podcast was intimidating, especially under such a well known company like barstool. you'd be competing with pardon my take, bussin' with the boys, and most famously, spittin' chiclets.

you started with high hopes and a nervous belly, recording a solo episode in your small podcast room. thankfully because of your large following on tiktok, your podcast was a successful one, and you continued to grow into your space and talk all things hockey.

what set you apart from other sports podcasts was your style of content. you were good at remembering these athletes for who they were: human. of course, you'd analyze and discuss their game, but at the end of the day, these men aren't machines and you were always reminding your audience of so.

fans of the podcast described you as 'an amazing sports analysts who perfectly represents how it feels to be a woman in sports. y/n is respectful but honest. funny but kind. clever but not a know it all. pucks in deeper with y/n is the best sports cast for everyone."

it wasn't long before your podcast, titled pucks in deeper, was gaining traction outside of your tiktok fans, and you started getting occasional sponsorships and guests on the show. starting smaller with paul bisosnette and ryan whitney (who graciously had you featured in an episode of their podcast), then landing your first active nhl athlete, only 9 months after starting at barstool.

ryan reaves was the perfect guest for your podcast and perfectly matched your vibe and the vibe of content you wanted to put out into the world. the episode with reaves birthed your first viral clip, and from there you had other professional hockey players wanting to come on your podcast and chat.

at 25 years old, and almost 5 years deep into your podcast, you were thriving. often getting compared to a mixture of bobbi althoff, alex cooper and brittany broski - your content was very personalized to your interviewee, and you specialized in humour and lighthearted conversation that the players were very intrigued by.

obviously, you got hate comments, mostly from people who had nothing better to do. you'd get called a puck bunny, and were told that ‘you knew nothing’, and ‘should quit while you're ahead.’ but that didn't phase you, and you thrived off the negatively. it pushed you to prove them wrong, and continue to have a viral and successful podcast despite the criticism.

——

email from: barstool sports inc

to: y/n y/l/n @pucksindeeperpodcast

y/n,

as usual, your podcast remains a positive and successful experience for our company. we continue to be absolutely blown away by the outpouring support and love for pucks in deeper, and are excited for you to continue at the pace you are still gaining.

due to the incredible virality of your podcast episode with jeremy swayman, we have reached out to both you and swayman with a proposal. the fans and viewers have loved your shared dynamic, and we are wanting to feed off that outpouring obsession by having you and jeremy film some content for our barstool channels.

that includes an expenses paid trip from new jersey out to boston, where you'll be staying for a few days for filming - as well as transportation and hotels in boston.

we are certain this will benefit you and the continuing growth of your podcast.

jeremy swayman's team has already agreed to the terms of the proposal and he is willing to spend time and participate in planned content recordings.

let us know what you're thinking and if you'd be so kind to consider this opportunity.

thank you,

barstool sports inc.

you re-read the email again, knawing on your thumb nail gently. a few weeks ago, the boston bruins goaltender, jeremy swayman, had graciously made an appearance on pucks in deeper. instantly, jeremy became one of your favourite guests. his calm exterior and humor had bounced off your style of interviewing perfectly, and you found yourself feeling very much intrigued by the goalie.

even though the interview was over a zoom, the entire podcast went smoothly. jeremy was kind and a willing participant in all the quizzes, games and questions you'd thrown his way.

there was a clipped video from the podcast your team had uploaded to your channel's tiktok page that had gone viral, and the traction on the swayman episode after that was mind blowing.

PODCAST CLIP

"okay," you start, a gentle and anticipating grin on your face. "this is near the end of our episode - sad, I understand," jeremy laughs at your humor, his eyes squinting. you continue, "and like usual i've hand selected a question from a fan and i've found the perfect one for you."

jeremy's brows raise, "should I feel scared right now?"

you dismiss his question, a gentle grin still softening your expression. "a little birdy told me that you're a big rom-com guy."

"is this little birdy in question named brandon carlo?" jeremy questions knowingly. you'd had the bruins defence man on the podcast the week before, and he'd immediately spilled the embarrassing and memorable tea on his teammates.

"answer the question."

jeremy laughs once, and through the slightly grainy zoom video, you watch him run a hand through his hair. he nods quickly, still smiling with amusement. "i'd say yeah - fuck it, im a self proclaimed rom com enthusiast."

"well I have the most fun question that i've kind of turned into a mini game," you clear your throat, and your eyes briefly flicker down towards your desk top, scanning over your podcast notes. "the question is from @swaymansbae - damn it they stole the username I wanted." you slip in the joke quickly, just a subtle end to your sentence.

it works, and jeremy laughs again. "oh god - you should fight them for it."

you nod, "i'm going to - anyways. @swaymansbae asks what are you favourite rom coms."

jeremy hums appreciatively, already thinking of movies he'd share his love to the hockey world with.

"but I've added my own little twist. okay, so you've all seen how blind ranking things has become just like, this crazy phenomenon online. and i feel left out...so, jeremy i've got a list of 5 of my favourite romantic comedies, and you'll have to blindly rank them - 1 being the best, and 5 being the worst. ready?"

"oh fuck," jeremy huffs a laugh, and you watch him adjust into a more relaxed posture on the camera. he rubs his jawline, eyes bouncing around the computer screen. "i'm feeling nervous now - they're your favourites?"

"yeah," you nod, pushing your blue light glasses higher up the bridge of your nose - your makeup always has them slipping down. "so there is definitely a right and wrong answer."

jeremy curses again, a quiet chuckle coming alongside the swear.

you begin, "10 things I hate about you." you look away from your notebook and back at your computer screen, eyeing jeremy with faux caution.

he hisses through his teeth, teetering his head in quick thought. "i'm going to have to go 5."

"what?!!"

he laughs again, "I don't know…i'm not big on the whole enemies first storyline."

"enemies to lovers, jeremey, get it right."

another chuckle is heard before he starts to defend his rank. "I don't know it's something about that storyline I find so unbelievable. I think if you truly loved one another, you wouldn’t treat each other like that."

you sigh loudly, "okay, I guess that makes sense."

"is that your favourite?" jeremy questions, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

"no comment." you clear your throat, reading your next movie from your notes. "next: to all the boys i've loved before."

"i've never seen that one - 4."

"jeremy...oh my god."

he raises his hands in surrender, teeth sparkling where they are just becoming visible under his growing smirk. "it's too new!"

"it came out in like 2018 -"

"- okay and i'm more into the classics. that's not one i've seen, but maybe i'll have to check it out."

"no, yeah you absolutely need to watch it." you tell him, eyeing him over the rim of your tortoise shell lenses.

"it's not enemies to lovers is it?" he gets the name of the trope correct this time around, and it has your lips quirking up pleasantly.

you shrug a shoulder, "no, not really."

his brows furrow, "not really?"

"moving on - how to loose a guy in 10 days."

he claps his hands, rubbing them together. "okay now I can get down with this - amazing movie."

"amazing." you echo, nodding. "and like hello matthew mcConaughey is this movie is like perfect, as well as kate hudson."

"way better than him in the wedding planner." the bruins goalie agrees, leaning forward in his kitchen chair as he gets more engaged with the conversation.

your eyes widen in suprise, "100%. and you wanna know why?"

"he's a cheater in that movie."

you make a noise - a combination of joy and shock escaping your throat. "no exactly! you get me."

"I get you." jeremey nods his head in a jerk like motion, acknowledging you like a flirty teenage boy. "i'm going to have to put that at...damn - gotta go 2."

ever so slightly, your cheeks tinge pink. regardless of your online persona of lighthearted, flirty, and funny, you're easily flustered. it sometimes made your job a bit difficult - but you're also good at your job, so repressing that initial haze from his compliment is quick and easy.

"not 1?"

he kisses his teeth, "something could always be better."

"very optimistic of you - the proposal."

his gentle laughter comes to a soft end, and he eyes you through the camera. "y/n…that's that stupid enemies shit again."

"okay, yeah but this one is different."

"how?" jeremy chuckles.

you splutter for a moment, thinking of some sort of answer. "he's all like scared of her and it's just, I don't know, well executed! and it's not like she's horrible to only him, it's just her personality."

jeremy scrunches his noise, clearly not vibing with the proposal even with your explanation. "what do I have left open?"

you glance at your notes, where you've taken the time to make sure you'd been tracking the places of each of jermey's ranking on the movies. "1 and 3."

he curses. "it's gotta be 3 - I can't put it at 1."

"oh my god, better hope you like this next movie. god forbid if the characters are mean." you tease him, eyeing him playfully through the screen. jeremy's lip tugs up, a grin forming. you continue, "and your number one....the last movie is...she's the man with the lovely amanda bynes and channing tatum."

"okay I'm actually really happy with that. I'm obsessed with that movie." he beams, "that is the kind of rom com that you just can't argue its greatness. not only is it funny and unique, but it's a sports movie - c'mon."

you echo him, "c'mon, what's not to like?!"

"sports romance for the win."

"very fitting," you chime warmly. "are you saying if a girl wants your attention she should disguise herself as brad marchand and zip around the ice."

he barks out a laugh, nodding reluctantly. "something like that."

comments

user1: wait this is everything

user2: OBSSESED

user3: sway + his love for rom coms = my new obsession

user 4: no because they way he's looking at her !

user 5: justice for 10 things I hate about you

user 6: why do I ship them together

user3: no because I was going to say that

user 7: they vibe so well together I need this is be like a weekly thing honestly

user 8: he's got rizz

user 9: MORE pls i love you both

user 10: okay but you two would be the most stunning, perfect couple. the humor matches, the banter, the way they look at each other

user4: just watched this again and omg the way sway says he hates enemies to lovers bc he doesn't believe you could treat somebody you love that badly - CERTIFIED LOVER BOY

the fans were always amazing, but as they loved on the episode, the comments about you and jeremey being cute together and shipping you were coming in at a lightning pace. it had you feeling weary of filming more content with him - despite knowing it would be a professional working environment.

the comments made me you feel like you were falling into the stereotyped female hockey fan category - labeled as a puck bunny or clout chaser. and although you found yourself always growing stronger from those false accusations, it doesn't make you the happiest to see those types of comments.

you sigh gently, pressing the respond tab on the barstool email. through your doubts, you know that barstool is right, and filming more content with jeremy while your podcast episode was still gaining traction was smart. and it's not like jeremy was a bad guest - quite the opposite. so you'll learn to work around the fans who want the two of you to date, and the allegations that you're already in jeremy's pants.

spending time with him would be good, you think. without any idea of what you'd have to participate in, you say yes - looking forward to meeting jeremy and continuing to get to know a potential returning podcast guest - getting shipped together be damned.

no harm, no foul.

boston, here you come.

— youtube: JEREMY SWAYMAN TEACHES Y/N Y/L/N HOW TO FISH

"okay and here we have - camera man, come closer." you gesture for daniel, the younger camera guy to come closer. once he's in your space, you direct his attention towards the portable flat table filled with fishing rods along other fishing things. you continue, "and this right here will be my rod. the fisherman's dream 2000."

beside you, jeremy laughs. he's fiddling with his own fishing pole, attaching the fake shrimp lure on his hook. he's laughing because there's no fishing rod on the table called the fisherman's dream 2000, and you are simply just fooling around.

regardless, your face is very serious, and you continue. "I mean, even though this is my first time fishing, jeremy told me - he actually said this - he said: I can tell you're going to be the best fisherman already so you deserve the nimbus of fishing rods. to which I responded, 'jeremy I'm a fisherwoman not a fisherman.'"

"yeah, you're right I totally said that." gently with his hip, jeremy shuffles you slightly off to the side, making more space. you don't mind, and allow him to move you around with his gentle push. immediately, he reaches for the fishing rod you'd been talking about, picking it up off the table to start attaching bait.

before he hooks the mini lure on, he looks at you. he's already grinning, and one of his brows is raised questioningly. "you sure you don't want to hook it on? you're supposed to be learning."

you cross your arms over your dark green plastic overalls, and the fabric puffs around you awkwardly. "I can watch and learn."

he eyes you slowly, gaze dragging down your body, assessing your fishing attire of rubber boots, overalls and a long sleeve - and back up to your face. jeremy is dressed the same, keeping him dry from the drizzly, cooler june day. "you definitely like to watch, huh?"

your mouth drops slightly, and in an instant you're getting into his space, taking the bait from jermey's calloused fingers. "okay, fine." he's laughing at you gently, watching as you try and attempt to attach the rubber fish to the sharp hook. you curse, merely missing pricking your finger. "this is rigged - there's no way it's supposed to be hard."

gently, jeremy takes over once again, hooking your lure correctly so it's secure on the end of fishing rod. you look back up towards the camera again, "okay and as you can see we've attached the fake bass fishy to the rode - hopefully to catch some big fish." you fist bump in and early celebratory gesture.

chuckling, jeremy shakes his head in amusement. it wasn't a bass lure, and they're aren't even bass on the lake you're at. regardless, he lets you take control and entertain- what you're best at.

"if I was a fish, i'd fall for that fake food -  zoom in on that masterpiece, my god!" daniel the camera man does what you ask, expertly changing the framing on the camera to capture the neon oranges and pinks of the lure.

shrugging, you dig into the tackle box, pulling out some more fishing necessities. things like rolls of fishing line, pliers, scissors and anything in between. you pull out a small pocket knife, holding it wearily as you eye the camera - a frightened expression on your face. "what's this for? are we gutting them?"

jeremey laughs once, shooting you a look as he fiddles with the rod. you had no idea what he was actually doing with the fishing rod, because you've never held a pole in your lifetime. "we're not gutting them." he tugs one of the levers, and the clear fishing line tightens before your eyes.

"then what's the knife for?" you question, swinging it back and forth between two pinched fingers.

he shrugs, testing the retention of his fishing line. "don't worry about it." your eyes widen comically, and the swinging knife comes to a dramatic stop. it has jeremy laughing again, his shoulders shaking as he does. "okay, are you ready to head over to the lake?"

the lake in question was only 10 feet away - the water looking awfully calm through the misty weather.

you turn your body to face jeremy fully, an amused frown tugging at your lips. your brows raise playfully, "am I ready?" you echo, sarcasm lacing your tone. you pull the straps of your rubberized overalls, letting them smack back against your shirt. "i'm ready to catch some fish."

with that, you grab the orange rod from jeremy, bringing it against your chest. jeremy cringes slightly, watching the way your fingers merely miss the hook on the end of your line. on instinct, he reaches out to you, moving your hand gently so that you're out of harms way. "do you remember what I told you?"

you think back to the beginning of filming, after you'd mentioned to everyone that you had absolutely zero clue how to fish. jeremy had nicely said there was nothing to it, and as long as you remembered a few rules, you'd be fine. you sigh in thought, eyes looking into jermey's - his gaze encouraging. "stay calm and speak gently - to not scare the fish."

you're praised immediately, jeremy smiling warmly as he gathers the fishing necessitates to bring down to the water. on the way down, you almost wipe out, practically shrieking as your foot slips down the wet, grassy hill. it would've had you feeling embarrassed, but thankfully jeremy's reflex's were superior (those nhl goalies are on a different level), and he grabs the crook of your elbow to stabilize you.

he smiles slightly, eyeing you playfully when he asks if you're okay. you blush slightly, brushing off your slip with some teasing remark.

when you had arrived at the filming location this morning, you weren't expecting to end up at a fishing park - you weren't expecting fishing period. you'd been left feeling clueless about what you and jeremy would be filming for barstool, and you definitely weren't prepared for water related activities. thankfully, the crew had provided both you and jeremy with proper waterproof attire - your tights and long sleeve align top wouldn't cut it.

right before getting changed, jeremey had shown up and....he was much better looking in person. you hate yourself for even thinking that, and you almost feel guilty for daring to even have those thoughts about an nhl athlete. anytime you think an athlete is cute, you have that guilty feeling - you hate that it plays into that bunny stereotype, even though you'd never get on your podcast and solely discuss an athletes look.

regardless, you're not blind. jeremy swayman was taller than he looks, and broader than expected. he also smelt really good, and his smile had you feeling flustered. it had your online persona feeling more real, and your borderline flirty comments had you getting hot and bothered - especially when jeremy flirts and teases back.

off camera, you and jeremy (mostly jeremy) set up the fishing equipment on the dock; poles, extra bait, and even adorable little camping chairs - you really felt like you were getting the premium fisherman experience. he runs over simple fishing techniques and hacks, showing you how to keep ahold of the rod, how to reel your line and casting. the camera catches all your poor attempts, as well as jeremy covering his snicker behind his hand - his amusement at your poor cast very evident.

5 minutes into fishing

you jerk the rod slightly, trying the movements jeremy had showed you just two minutes prior - trying to snag any fish nibbling around your bait.

you sigh gently, pursing your glossy lips outwards. eyeing jermey, you ask, "so like what kind of fish are we exactly trying to catch?"

jeremy hums, "some perch would be nice. or possibly cod, or halibut..." he trails off, eyeing your confused face, and the look you're giving him has a subtle smirk tugging at his upper lip. he breathes a laugh, "you have no idea what I just said, do you?"

you bark an unattractive laugh, and that has jermey's smile deepening. "not a clue."

"that's okay," he assures you immediately, and his leg moves towards you like he was planning to knock your thighs together reassuringly. but your bodies don't touch, and it has you feeling a little disappointed. "everyone has their own interests. besides sports, what else do you like?" he looks towards you quickly, but looks back at the water when he feels his line tug slightly - nothing has bitten unfortunately.

you swing your fishing pole back and forth tiredly, enjoying the way the water ripples from your line moving on the surface. "oh god - honestly i'm into a lot of stuff; movies, books, fashion, food. you name it and i'm into it." you pause, eyeing him playfully. "you must not watch my podcast - I tend to talk about myself a lot."

jeremy looks back at you quickly, but once he sees that you're clearly being playful, his once tight shoulders relax, and he smiles gently. "maybe I get distracted when I watch your podcast and don't catch everything you say."

he was insinuating that he's distracted by your face - his teasing gaze and laughing smirk has you clueing into jermey's underlying undertones.

you clear your throat. you can feel heat rise to your makeup covered cheeks, and you advert your gaze back to the lake - trying to distract yourself from the whirling fluster caused by jermey's flirting. "well guess you'll just have to hear me talk about it all over again."

11 minutes into fishing

"what's your opinion on one direction, jeremy?"

he pauses from reeling his fishing line in momentarily, and a very small, breathy laugh falls from his tinted lips. jeremy looks at you, scratching his stubble in thought. "love them." he admits.

you smile automatically at jeremy's willingness to answer you absurd, random questions - just like he's been doing since you first meet through a zoom meeting for your podcast. your brows raise questionably though, not truly believing that a 25 year old man would vibe to a british teen boy group.

"okay," you hum questionably, "but who's your favourite?"

jeremy doesn't back down, keeping eye contact with you - reeling in his fishing line long forgotten. "who do you think it is?"

now you're invested. you squint at him, deep in thought. you look jermey once over, "probably zayn. yeah, you give big zayn vibes."

he smiles, brows pulled tightly. jeremy jerks his head at you, expression full of curiosity. "who's your favourite?"

"louis." you tell him.

jeremy laughs triumphantly, "i knew you'd be a louis girl."

you click your tongue, and adjust your seating position. without thinking, you let go of the fishing rod so you can push yourself upwards in the chair. before the most likely expensive rod takes a tumble into the misty water, jermey catches it, jolting across your thighs so he can grab it before it plunges.

you don't notice the chaotic series of events, and you smile, still thinking of the one direction conversation. "what can I say," you hum, " I like them a little wild."

jeremy eyes the camera - a mixture of amusement and fear on his face.

19 minutes into fishing

jeremy watches you intently, observing the way you change your bait. there'd been nothing caught yet, and honestly you were playing up the impatient act pretty well.

so, jermey suggested to change the bait on your hook. that way you'd not only be able to have a new opportunity to attract fish, but also learn how to change your lure.

he sighs gently, "okay, you're still not hooking it right." he leans closer to you, the arm rest digging into his muscled side.

"oh, shut up." you grumble, making sure your playful flare is very prevalent in your tone.

jeremy takes the pink bait from your fumbling fingers, properly demonstrating the correct way to attach it to the sharp hook. "you shut up." he echos you, nudging your side with his elbow - his hands not once leaving your fishing rod.

"make me." the underlying suggestiveness that can be taken from your remark doesn't dawn on you at first - but as soon as jeremy pauses, and gives the camera a knowing glance, brow quirked playfully, you realize your mistake.

you blush, and without really knowing what else to do, once jeremy fixes your lure and pulls away, you throw the extra fake fish at him, hitting his bicep.

25 minutes into fishing

"holy shit," you beam, eyeing jeremy beside you. when his posture suddenly changed, as well as his body position- muttering a curse under his breath, you knew something was happening. you watch him reel the line expertly, "do you have a fish right now?"

"yup," jeremy's tongue darts out, tucking against the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on reeling in his catch. it's not much labour for him to bring in the fish, effortlessly lifting it out of the water. it's a pretty big fish, you think, considering you've never seen a living fish this close.

he holds it expertly, detaching the hook lodged in the fishes throat. ones it's free, he switches hands so he's pinching the lip between two fingers, holding it out.

"oh my god, you're like really good at this." you compliment, tilting your head to get a better look at the side of the fish, eyeing its reflective, slippery scales.

"you like that, huh?" he spins the fish in between his fingers, allowing you to get a proper look at all angles. jeremy grins, eyes watching your wondrous face. "want to hold it?"

you frown unpleasantly, eyes darting between jermey's reassuring face and the scaly fish gripped in between his fingers. "I don't know?" it comes out like a question, your weariness about holding the fish clear.

"you got it," he assures you, "come here." he holds his free arm out, silently gesturing you to come towards him.

almost reluctantly, you take the few steps left between you, and stand beside him. the camera catches it all; jeremy practically gentle parenting you as he shows you how to properly hold the fish, the uncertain expression pulling at your face, and the shriek you let out when the fish starts to squirm around - its tail flapping up against your wrist.

"oh it's slimy," you state the obvious, holding it as far away from your body as human possible. it squirms again, and you can feel your fingers slipping away from their grip. you look at a smiling jeremy, who's clearly having fun watching you struggle. "jer, yup."

you gesture the fish at him, eyes darting between the aquatic animal and jeremy.

"he's fine." he smiles through gentle laughter.

"no, no, take the fish."

32 minutes into fishing

you reel in one last time, watching the fish come up from the waters surface, dangling off your hook. it's squirming around, water spraying all over.

jeremy comes up beside you, helping you bring your fishing pole upwards to properly display and hold the fish. "yes, y/n," he smiles praisingly. his arms come around you from behind, adjusting your positioning.

you're too distracted by the fish frolicking around at the end of your clear line to feel flustered by jeremy's closeness - paying no mind to the gentle way he helps you. "oh my god," you beam, "I just caught a fish." 

"yeah you did!" jeremy nods encouragingly, slipping his body around to your side. he looks between the fish and your bright eyes, and he squeezes your bicep warmly - oh, he's still got an arm around you. "you gotta try and take it off the hook."

"no. jer, i'm scared!" you tell him immediately, "I can't do that."

"you can," he assures you, "just try once, and if you really feel uncomfortable after that, ill do it, okay?" his warm eyes stare into yours softly, providing a comforting vibe towards your clear uncertainty.

that combined with his sweet smile and the heat of his body, which, yes, his arm was still wrapped assuringly around your body, has you sighing shakily and you nod. "okay, i'll do it. i'll try just for you."

— tiktok video:

when you'd finished up filming, one of the producers who'd been off working in some white, pop-up tent while you'd be with jeremy, informed you that before leaving, they need you and jeremy to make a tiktok.

but surprisingly, they gave you and jeremy a lot of creative freedom with the direction of the video. meaning, you'd get to choose the audio and your positions and presentation of the tiktok.

"twin" the audio starts through the phone, and you mouth the beginning of the song. the camera catches you stepping out of one of the trucks, mimicking you as if you'd just got to the filming sight. you've still got your fishing gear on - rubber overalls and boots included.

the next shot is on jeremy, who you both decided would be at the picnic bench, looking like he was waiting for you. as the audio starts, he whips around towards the camera, lip syncing to the next line of the audio. "where have you been?" he points off camera at you, and his overalls squeak at the friction of movement.

you laugh at him behind the camera, stifling your laugh into a clenched fist. jermey finishes that part of the audio with a large wink in your direction, and you shake your head with amusement- a giant blush covering your cheeks.

"nobody knows me like you do." you're at the picnic table for the next part, and you previously decided to pretend one of the fishing rods was a microphone, singing into it sarcastically.

the audio continues, and jeremy comes into screen behind you, taking the fishing pole turned microphone to sing the next line. "nobody can't love me quite like you can."

the last remaining seconds of the audio, you wanted to capture you and jeremy from a distance. as an ode to your famous podcast episode clip, you and jeremy previously decided on recreating the dirty dancing lift for the video. right before beginning to film the last part, jeremy checks in on you to make sure that you're still feeling okay with being lifted, which sends your heart running rampant in your chest.

the camera is set to slow-mo, but in real life it feels like you're running a million miles an hour. the way jeremy easily lifts you into the air and over his head - his hands splay over the entirety of your hip bones, holding you steady.

you're glad for the ridiculous overalls in this moment, because you think if you'd be able to feel the warmth from his hands too close to your skin, you'd die.

10 minutes later, when you and jeremy are watching the video back, you get all those fluttering, nervous butterflies once again. he laughs against you, body just grazing your backside as he watches the tiktok over your shoulder.

as the lift plays out on the phone, he leans in closer, his chin gently brushing against your shoulder. out of the corner of your eye, you look at him. jeremy is smiling, eyes bright as he watches the end of the tiktok. his woodsy scent is intoxicating, and you can count every freckle sprinkled across his nose with him being so close.

suddenly, he looks at you. his smile doesn't falter, and if anything it changes into a more smirky, excited one. "that's a good one, don't you think?" briefly, you watch his eyes flicker away, landing farther down your flushed face before meeting your gaze again.

you nod once, blinking gently. "yes....really good."

— 9 months later: NHL ALL-STAR GAME

there's not a day that's gone by since the videos of you and jermey had been posted to the barstool media accounts, that you haven't been tagged, sent or mentioned in a clip of the two of you. fans loved you and jeremy, and still continued to blow up not only the fishing video and tiktok, but your podcast as well.

there's also not a day that's gone by since leaving jeremy in his rubberized overalls that you haven't thought of him. in the few conversations you've had face to face with him, you've been left feeling rather smitten and flustered with jeremy swayman. it doesn't help that before you left boston 9 months ago, jeremy had asked for your contact - all smooth and smirky. it obviously had you swooning and giving him your number.

so in all these months, you and jermey had been in contact. it started simple, with sweet check ins every couple days, you congratulating him on wins, and teasing him for his game day suits - but that soon turned into more flirtatious, and playful conversations. on a few occasions, you'd even sent him tiktok edits of himself, accompanied by a sequence of heart eye emojis from you.

jeremy would like and shamelessly comment on all your photos on instagram, and vice versa. which obviously has the shipping edits and comments spiralling to an unfathomable level. at first, you were worried that jeremy would feel uncomfortable with the fans wanting you two together, showing their support through comments and videos - but no, jeremy loved it all.

him having enjoyment in the relationship shipping between you both has you feeling even more into him - your feelings for jeremy growing stronger and stronger. that combined with fun text threads, edits and occasional facetimes from jeremy, has you crushing hard on the bruins goal tender.

two months ago, you had the nhl social administration and event team reached out to your team and ask if you'd been interested in interviewing nhl players on the red carpet for the nhl all star game. it was such a surreal moment and immediately you took the offer.

for the entire two months since accepting the opportunity to be an interviewer for the nhl social team, you'd been looking forward to the february, toronto bound event. the nhl administration has taken care of the expenses, as well as wardrobe and makeup for you - which is wild.

now here you are, standing on the red carpet while interviewing amazingly good nhl superstars. thankfully, you've meet and interviewed a lot of these guys on pucks in deeper, which leaves no room for awkwardness. the players know you and your style of interviewing, and that visibly has them lightning up from their previous over professional exteriors.

you're mid conversation with tom wilson, listening intently as he answers one of your more serious interview questions, when you feel your heart speed up.

it's weird - at first as you're not sure why exactly you've become nervous. you swallow, adjusting the mini-microphone by your painted lips - your gold bracelets clinking against each other. as subtly as you can manage, you let your eyes wander down the carpet, and it doesn't take you long to see and understand the sudden change in your hearts pace.

kids near the entrance of the arena are all calling for jeremy, their hands tightly holding out bruins memorabilia for him to sign.

the light catches the silver chain on jeremy's neck,  complimenting his shining smile to make his grin look even brighter. you clear your throat, tearing your eyes away from jeremy and back towards your interviewee. thankfully, tom is clueless to your shift of mood, and is still happily answering into his own tiny microphone.

you've only got one more interview before you get to talk to jeremy. it's with mat barzal, who if you weren't so infatuated by the bruins goalie , you'd been shamelessly flirting with. you'd never had barzal on your podcast before, but that didn't matter - talking with him was anything but akward. it was nice, and (if you aren't going insane) you're pretty sure the islanders forward was flirting with you.

but you're too blinded by jeremy to entertain any of those thoughts. soon enough, he's next in queue, chatting to his assistant without realizing what exactly he's in line for.

you lock eyes as he is directed towards you, and immediately you feel yourself relax. your once tense shoulders fall back into a comfortable position, and your cheeks heat pleasantly as a smile automatically grows on your face. instinctively, you're falling into your interview shoes (currently very glamorous shoes). "you just can't stay away from me for too long, huh?" you tease him as your social director passes him the mini mic.

jermey's smile is matching yours, his gaze not leaving you as he takes the microphone, holding it tightly between two fingers. "what can I say? you look great!"

you drag your free hand down the front of your red dress, the soft material tickling the pads of your tanned fingers. "why thank you, jer. i've got to say i'm digging this look on you - much better than the boring suits you usually wear."

jeremy smiles at your lighthearted jab to his fashion choices. his last game, you'd given him slack on his boring suit choice and had followed with a text thread of insane, over the top suits you'd considered better options. "I was taking inspiration from the ones you'd sent me."

you hope fans don't piece together any insinuations from jermey's comment  referencing your texts. although it has you blushing, you recover from your fluster relatively quickly, and you reach towards him, poking one of the black, shiny buttons on jeremy’s jacket. "and tell us what you're wearing mister fancy jacket."

he looks down at the material of his suit jacket, "i've got a custom todd snyder on - very comfortable and stylish. it's just what I was looking for when I was trying to find a jacket for this event."

you nod understandably, "yes, like cute and professional but also cozy."

your chipper tone has jeremy's smile growing. his warm tinted eyes go hazy, and they rather slowly watch you - tracing down your dress covered neck, down your bare arms, and all the way down to your painted toes peeking out your heels. his tongue wets his plump, bottom lip, and his eyes find yours again. "you look cute and cozy."

even if he's meaning it innocently, you can't help but think otherwise. what feels like the 20th time since the start of the interview, you blush. "were twins then." you shrug sweetly, as if to show the audience that the way you were speaking to one another was no big deal - hopefully they buy it …because you certainly don't.

jeremy’s smitten grin grows wider. he bites the skin of his bottom lip, tucking it between his teeth seductively. it's like he's in a trance, which usually would have you feeling creeped out or weird, but because it's jeremy and not some random guy, you feel your skin prickle pleasantly, and your knees begin to feel weak.

the camera man clears his throat - a subtle and gentle reminder that you're supposed to be interviewing jeremy, not eye fucking him.

you blink. "unfortunately, I have to get a little boring, jer. can you tell me and the viewers what you're looking forward to the most at all star weekend. sorry I know, boring and repetitive." you stick your tongue out, blowing a raspberry.

your noise mimicks a fart if anything, and jermey laughs a real laugh - all teeth and squinted eyes. he rubs his chin in thought, but comes up with an answer pretty quickly. for the first time tonight, his media training is kicking in. "i'm really looking forward to just spending time with all these amazing guys and having fun on the ice."

teasingly, you purse your painted lips, cocking your head to the left. "so not me?"

through his constant grin, jeremy clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth - nodding at your correction. "okay, maybe you too."

you give the camera lenses an unimpressed look, as if to say - is this guy being for real? you shake your head, playing into your annoyed persona. "since our fishing video together, which thank you to the fans for blowing that up -"

"- oh my good, yes, thank you." jeremy adds on, nodding thoughtfully.

you continue, "fans want to know...what is your favourite one direction song?"

jeremy exhales loudly, eyes bouncing between you and the camera lens - a whisper of a curse heard from under his breathe.

you nod understandably, "we've really got the hard hitting questions, so I can understand if you need to take a second to think-"

"kiss you." jermey interrupts with a triumphant tone, and he looks very proud of his answer.

"that was pretty fast - why kiss you?"

his slinky smile is back, and it has your stomach falling all the way down to your feet. "why not?" jeremy shrugs one suit covered shoulder nonchalantly, and the sleeve of his jacket brushes against your bare arm at the same time.

you smile, "what's been your favourite part of toronto so far?"

this time, jermey's answer is instant. "you."

you laugh proudly, nodding in approval. "that's a better answer."

behind the camera, one of the social directors holds up a pamphlet, one that she'd change throughout the night. it only ever said a last name - the last name of whichever nhl player was next and approaching your interview area. it was essentially a one minute warning, and she was trying to tell you to start wrapping up your conversation with jeremy.

disappointment pangs deep into your chest, the thought of having to part ways from jeremy is not one you enjoy.

reluctantly, you look away from the director holding william nylander's name up over the camera man, and set your gaze back on jeremy. "okay, i've got a two part question. firstly, are you up for a little challenge?"

he nods, "right now I think you could probably talk me into anything. so yes."

your heart flutters but you stay composed. "good. secondly, which celebrity team do you hope picks you? because personally i'm hoping you get team tate, so you can sneak me in for a picture with her."

jermey laughs again, his head rolling backwards. "obviously id be happy with any team, but if I get tate...I got you."

you smile brightly, "thanks jer."

"anytime."

"we appreciate you taking time out of your busy day to chat with us, we always love catching up with you."

"thank you for having me, y/n/n." the sudden nickname has your heart beat coming to a dramatic halt, and from now on all you ever want to hear is jeremy swayman's voice, saying your name over and over again.

there's a brief moment before nylander gets to your portion of the carpet - he is currently too caught up with screaming fans and paparazzi. the camera lens isn't focused on you as the camera man fiddles with some of the dials, affectively blocking the two of you from its view.

jeremy passes the tiny microphone back to you, and his fingers graze yours softly on the way back. you swallow nervously, meeting his gaze once more.

he clears his throat and suddenly he seems almost...nervous. he rubs his hand against his jawline scruff once, a nervous habit he’s always had. "hey, after the stuff going on tonight, a couple guys and their girlfriends were planning on getting dinner. I was wondering if you'd like to tag along?"

your eyes widen in suprise, "guys and their girlfriends?"

he breathes laugh, "yeah. I want you to come with me."

"okay," you nod bashfully, "i'll come."

you watch william nylander enter your queue behind jermey's broad shoulder, chatting happily with your director as she goes over the process. you've interviewed nylander before, so it will be another breezy and entertaining interview- especially with the swedes personality.

jeremy's grin is blinding, bringing you back into reality. "great," he sighs, "i'll text you after."

"i'll be looking forward to it."

-- DINNER

you take another hearty gulp of your spiced red wine, letting the clash of flavours sit on your tongue briefly before swallowing fully.

you're on your third - maybe fourth? - glass of your preferred wine, and sure, maybe you were using the buzz as a way to calm your erratic, exited heart. since jeremy had texted you after the events of the all star celebrity draft, you've been filled with happy butterflies - and only a part of that was because of the picture he sent you of him with tate mcrae.

jeremy had walked to your hotel room -he didn't want to just meet outside or just meet at the restaurant, he picked you up on the 10th floor of the expensive toronto hotel. he had complimented your new, dinner appropriate outfit - a shiny maroon top with sleek pants and jacket and you had shared the compliment back at him.

you had to clench your thighs together to calm yourself when you were right outside the extravagant glass entryway of the restaurant, pastrnak just seeing and waving you both over, when jeremy leaned down, lips brushing your ear and admitted he hadn't stopped thinking about you and your sexy little dress.

so, yeah, the wine was definitely needed. you stab one of the only remaining potatoes onto your expensive silverware, bringing it up and past your lips. you chew lazily, listening quietly to the conversations around you. after all, it had been a few hours of meaningless conversations since you and jeremy arrived - your borderline drunk brain needed a minute.

the potato was cold now, and the gravy coated it had that slimey film coating. you pull a face to yourself, chewing the mushy food quicker than before, trying to get to swallowing it faster.

fingers tickle your arm over the sheer material of your blouse - jacket long abandoned over the back of your chair. you look over to jeremy, who's got his arm rested loosely on top your jacket - the culprit of your bicep tickles.

he looks amused, "you okay?"

with no regards to the food in your mouth, you turn towards him and begin to speak. "my potato is cold."

jeremy chuckles lowly, continuing the leisure up and down motion with the pads of his fingers against your covered skin. "want to spit it out?" he can tell you're teetering on drunk, and he doesn't mind at all. you're at the perfect level of buzzed - still controlled and conscious, but also having no care in the world. jeremy feels pleased that you feel comfortable enough to let go with him, and he finds amusement with your usual laid back, humorous behaviour.

you shake your head, finally swallowing the food in your mouth. you turn your body into his, and push your body against the side of your chair, trying to get closer to the man beside you. jeremy raises his brows questionably, the start of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I don't spit."

the suggestive undertones to your words don't go unnoticed, and jeremy is spluttering. his cheeks tint pink, and he takes a harsh swallow. you bite down onto your lip to contain the flurry of giggles that want to pass, and you lean further into jermey's bicep behind you.

finally, he collects himself. behind you, you can feel his elbow bend, and with the new position he can come around to the side of your head - his fingers taking some of your hair between them, gently running through your strands. "no?"

you shake your head. "nuh uh."

"so, y/n." the sound of a fork hitting someone's plate combined with them calling your name, has you pulling away and out of jermey's personal bubble. you're back to the reality of who you are and what you're doing here - not just at dinner tonight, but in toronto this week. you're supposed to be a professional. your cheeks flush with the guilt of feeling caught - even though you're not actually doing anything wrong.

kenna, mat barzal's girlfriend, is looking at you expectantly, her pointed chin resting on her tanned palm. you resist the urge to huff at the sight of her sour face. since the start of the evening, kenna has been very passive aggressive towards you - no compliment was given without a condescending remark. not only that, but mat had been very flirty and friendly with you since the red carpet, and although you've been unresponsive to him, it only fuelled kenna's fire.

she hums in faux interest, eyeing you and jeremy. "so like, it must be nice with your podcast and having the pick of like any and every nhl player you want, huh?"

a couple of people sitting at the lengthy table hear, and they look down at you quickly. you laugh awkwardly, eyes briefly meeting the crisp, white table cloth below you. you shrug, "I suppose? everyone is really nice, and i'm very grateful for their support."

she laughs, "I mean, like, do you just like, fuck any of them?"

her words are like a stab to your chest. all those derogatory hate comments and misogynistic remarks come rushing back to you. you don't know what to say, even though no, you've never hooked up or dated any nhl player, especially while you're working with them. but you can also understand why kenna would think that - the way you're cuddling up and talking with jeremy is very much telling.

that guilty feeling is back, and all you can do is just stare at kenna's smug face - mouth open wordlessly.

"I don't think it's any of your business, honestly." jeremy’s voice is firm, but not unkind, as he responds for you. "it's nobody business but hers. y/n is ridiculously good at her job, and she is way past the point of having to prove that she's serious about her work."

kenna laughs it off, mentioning something about just playing around as she takes another sip of her mixed drink. the conversation slowly starts up around you again, and without the attention focused on you and the awkward exchange, you feel like you can finally exhale.

you look at over at jeremy, your eyes glossy and wide. his expression is hard, and his brows are pulled tightly together in irritation.

"you didn't need to say anything...I'm used to those kind of comments." you try and dismiss your feelings - trying to lighten the mood, but jeremy doesn't buy it.

he shakes his head, "you shouldn't have to deal with that - especially from some douche bags girlfriend."

the end of his sentence has you cracking into a smile, a breathy laugh following. "thank you." you take a quick inhale, stopping your quiet laughter. your face turns serious again, "but I don't do that - i'm not some crazed, horny, puck bunny in disguise. that's not what this is." you gesture between the two of you without thinking, and you feel your lips falling into a frown - your emotions catching up to you.

jeremy mimics your frown, and before he can stop himself, he reaches out and takes ahold of your hand. he gently keeps ahold of you, bringing your hand down to rest on his lap. jeremy runs his thumb along the wrinkles of your palm, soothing you. "you don't need to justify anything to me."

you nod silently.

"ready to head out?" jeremy questions gently. you answer yes quickly, letting jeremy help you out of your seat and into your winter jacket. he gives david some money - enough to cover both of your meals before he guides you out of the restaurant, hand in yours.

the walk back to the hotel is pleasant, the once lingering awkward feeling from the restaurant vanishing once you and jeremy were alone. like earlier in the night, jeremy comes to your hotel door - he doesn't suggest that you'll go your separate ways once in the elevators, or part ways in the lobby, he doesn't even hesitate to walk you back.

before you swipe your key card in the holder, you torn to face jeremy. you smile, leaning your bodies weight onto the closed hotel door. "I had a nice time tonight, jer - although I think it's only because you were there."

he laughs gently, "i'm glad you came."

you cringe at yourself and your rather rude insinuation about everyone else at the restaurant tonight - even if it was true. "sorry, when I drink wine I have a hard time controlling my mouth."

jeremy shuffles closer to you, so subtle that you don't even register him moving. he shrugs, "I don't mind. they deserve it."

you giggle. "and you also look really good - like, all the time. I haven't stopped thinking about you in fucking, like, 9 months." you shake your head, "sorry - the wine." you remind him.

"don't apologize, if wine makes you say things like that, I never want you to stop drinking it." jeremy reaches out to you, resting his large hand on the side of your jaw. his thumb strokes your ear lobe softly, running over your studded earring.

your stomach swoops, silently looking up at him. jeremy is so much taller than you, standing over you like a damn giant. the position of you two has you feeling small - sexy. your tongue darts out, wetting your lips. your lipstick has faded throughout the night, and your spit adds more colour to them - more appeal.

but jeremy thinks you've never not looked like the most beautiful, amazing, appealing woman he's ever seen. he smirks slowly, a warm, syrupy feeling in the air around you. "I really like you, y/n - so much that it's kind of embarrassing."

you smile, "I don't think it's embarrassing, especially because I feel the same way....but I think my wine mouth gave that away."

"it sort of did." he teases.

you huff gently, eyes twinkling with amusement. before you can say anything back, jeremy leans down and kisses you. the wine flavours mix between you, and the exchange of quick kisses combined with slow, tongue chasing kisses making your knees buckle.

jeremy presses you further against the door, his thigh slotting between yours to provide an extra form of stimulation. you sigh into his mouth, holding onto his shoulders warmly as you continue to make out in the hotel hallway.

reluctantly, you pull away. you're breathing heavy, heart pumping loudly through your ears from the adrenaline high. "maybe we should clam down - we're in public."

"shhh," kiss. "just a little bit more." his words are mumbled, his lips brushing against yours. jeremy’s lips find yours again, and all your worries float away.

you blindly grab ahold of your key card, and it takes a couple of attempts of trying to slide it through without the use of your vision - but you get it. jeremy’s lips don't leave yours, and you don't want them too. he uses his body to push you both through the door and into the hotel room, kicking the door shut with his dress shoe behind him.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[thankskenpenders]

Happy new year, everyone! Welcome to 2024, the year that will mark the 10th anniversary of Thanks Ken Penders. I'd like to go over my plans for the blog for this year.

First of all: in the very near future, I'll have a post with my thoughts on Sonic Dream Team, and I'm sure I'll write one last Sonic Prime review once the final episodes drop on the 11th. I've also been sitting on an unfinished piece about the Sonic LEGO sets. I wanted this to be longer and more detailed piece that not only reviewed the sets but also went into the weird disconnect between homogenized image of Sonic the Brand and the actual fiction it's based off of, but it'll probably end up getting cut down a lot just so I can put something out. Let's just say I did a fun little thing with one of the sets.

Second: yes, I would like to return to regular TKP updates this year. As I've said many times, I wanted to do this in 2023, but I've been suffering from creative burnout after finishing SLARPG and have generally been unable to focus on any of my creative goals this past year. I'm hoping that this year will be better and I'll be able to get back into the swing of covering Archie Sonic issues. Even doing one issue every week or so would be vastly preferable to continuing the hiatus. I'm still only halfway done!! But aside from burnout, my other main hurdle is that I need to reread my own archive to refresh myself on all these things after nearly three years away. This will take some time.

The thing is, though, this year I'll have an extra incentive to go back through my previous writing and brush up on all things Archie Sonic. Because you see...

I've decided that I want to make a video essay about Penders. The comics, the copyright battle, The Lara-Su Chronicles, everything.

The why

I've thought about doing this before, but I never committed to the idea. I was too busy with gamedev, or I thought it'd end up being too long, or I figured that there were already enough videos on the subject, or I just lacked confidence in my ability to put together a video essay. So I told myself it wasn't meant to be, and let the multiple YouTubers who have cited me as a source on their own Penders videos fill that void.

Recently, though, a few things have happened that have convinced me it might be time. For one, YouTube video essays/media retrospectives/etc. are just getting longer and longer. When Quinton Reviews is out here doing 21 hours of videos on Sam & Cat, a subpar Nick sitcom that only lasted one season, I don't feel so crazy for wanting to make a video about several hundred comic books and two lawsuits that'd be at least an hour or two long lmao. Admittedly, I've also been self-conscious about doing a long video essay like this as a trans woman who has yet to do any vocal training. But these days I feel like I see a lot more transfem YouTubers who have done little to no vocal training, and that's given me more confidence on that front.

But the big one was Hbomberguy's recent plagiarism video. As I sat there watching it, I kept thinking about the time I found a CBR article that was just a crude 800 word summary of my two previous articles on Penders, published by a CBR writer who's put out over 4000 articles since 2019. If I've already been plagiarized before, and my writing is so frequently passed around as a go-to source on Archie Sonic drama, then I wouldn't be shocked if there were YouTubers out there straight up just plagiarizing me. I don't watch other peoples' videos on Archie Sonic, so I'd never know! So if people are just gonna paraphrase me when covering these topics anyway, why not take matters into my own hands and make what I would consider to be the definitive video on the subject? If hacks like James Somerton and iilluminaughtii can churn out these shitty video essays and people will still watch them, surely it can't be that impossible to make my own, right? (And also, uh, Hbomb literally told me I should make the video lol. If you're reading this, thanks for the encouragement.)

The what, how, and when

So here's the plan.

Part of this video essay will be an adaptation of my Medium article on the recurring themes of Ken's Archie Sonic run, with its content touched up and expanded upon. There were a few things I skimmed over in the article because I didn't want it to get too long, but again, people are out here watching ten hour videos about bad Nickelodeon sitcoms now. I can get away with elaborating a little more. I can add a few paragraphs talking about the Chaos Knuckles arc, or throw in a little more historical context I've discovered in the years since.

After covering the comics, the back half(-ish?) of the video will be dedicated to the copyright battles and their ensuing controversies, trying to give an accurate picture of what actually went down, the sheer scale of how bad Archie fucked up, and what our takeaways should be. This will have some similarities to my New York Magazine article on the subject, but I'll be rewriting it from scratch. I REALLY had to keep things short for that article because I was already way over the expected word count, and my tone was a little more straight-laced than normal because I was trying to keep things Professional. I can riff more and insert more of my own opinions this time, like I normally would.

I'll inevitably have to touch on some of Ken's Bad Tweets when discussing things that have happened after the lawsuits, but I don't want the video to just devolve into a list of times people got mad at him on Twitter, so I'm gonna try to keep that to a minimum in favor of focusing on his actual work. Things like the Scourge the Speed Demon incident and his continued statements on certain characters' copyright statuses probably warrant mentioning, though. And finally, assuming that the book really does come out this summer, I would like the grand finale of the video to be about those first couple chapters of The Lara-Su Chronicles.

I don't currently know when this video will get done, but it'll probably be in the back half of the year, especially with me waiting for the book to either drop or get delayed yet again. But I've actually already started writing a bit of the script, and will keep chipping away at it for a while.

So, uh, yeah, look forward to that? Wish me luck?

[teamcavota]

50 milo murphy's law facts

5 not so fun and 45 fun!

Not so fun to start!

The only Milo Murphy's Law official merchandise is a notebook released in Japan for the MML X PNF crossover.

Disney actually apologized to Dan (and I assume Swampy) for the treatment of Milo Murphy's Law. Dan has expressed frustration at the MMLs treatment before, citing the Hiatus between s1 and s2 and the fact it did not air on the main Disney Channel.

Doof appears in more episodes than Cavendish and Dakota in s2 (this is the real reason we needed a s3). Also, while PNF/Doof stuff was planned from the start, Disney did push for more PNF.

When season 2 was airing, new episodes would randomly be released in other countries.

Milo was cut from CATU due to a feeling from Disney that audiences would not recognize his cameo.

ok LAME ones out of the way

On the first drawing of Milo there are three names beside it: Milo, Mikey, and...Monty. As you probably know the Mikey one got pretty far and is the name used in the pitch bible (and was referenced with "I am Mikey!".) The reason Mikey was changed to Milo was not a creative choice, but because there was a popular YouTuber named "Mikey Murphy."

Speaking of, Milo was also just going to be another character apart of a different pitch, but Dan kept thinking he should go into his own show. He went to Swampy and asked him what he thought of Milo (at the time Mikey) and the idea of a show about Murphys Law. it took them about an hour to come up with the concept pitch.

You can find several of MML song dubbings on YouTube and other platforms. Most notably the Japanese version (マイロ・マーフィーの法則) highly worth checking out. Fun fact in a fun fact, Doof and Dakota also share the same voice actor in this dubbing.

In re-airings of some of the first MML episodes, second versions were made that included Cavendish and Dakota in the background.

Yes, Melissa was originally going to feel the lasting effects of the pistachion uprising by remaining looking like one instead of Bradley having his arm turned into a vine. This would have been a source of conflict for her in season 2, but in the end they felt it was too much of a change. As far as Bradley's plant arm it was originally only going to come out sometimes before it was changed to being a constant thing. He does have feeling in this arm.

The Island of Lost Dakota's was going to include a scene with merman Dakota's ("merkotas"). There was also going to be "mutation" Dakotas, such as ones with multiple heads.

There exists a live action version of the Milo Murphy's Law theme song. well, sorta, watch it

Before Milo came out Dwampy made the song "we're gonna do it again."

MML was originally set to debut in early 2017.

Weird Al did not originally come to mind for Milo. One of the idea voices they had was Noah Z Jones (Fish Hooks). They auditioned hundreds of people for Milo, but many had issues such as sounding too nervous in their lines. It wasn't until Alex Hirsch (Gravity Falls) posted a photo with Weird Al that Dwampy realized he'd be perfect for the role.

Sara is based on a friend of Dwampy.

In tune with the popular headcanon/fan theory, it's possible they did actually consider making Cavendish a descendant of Milo. When Cavendish was going to agree he also liked Milo, he was going to say he was his descendant. *this may have also just been a joke line

Milo and Cavendish are meant to mirror eachother in the fact Milo deals with Murphy's Law and Cavendish is the "author of his own misery" in regards to things going wrong.

Another thing they considered was the possibility of Dakota and Cavendish being in a romantic relationship, but they ultimately decided they wanted them to have them represent a strong male friendship.

The Milo Murphys Law crew did keep up a fanart and concept art wall. Here, here, and here are some photos.

There was a baby Cavenpus cut from final productions.

There are no official ages for Dakota and Cavendish. Dan has said he believes Cavendish to be older, while Joshua Pruett has said he believes Dakota to be the older one and by a bit of a margin.

Pistachios came to be a thing in the show because a son of some of Dan's neighbors had been allergic to specifically pistachios. They needed an idea for the larger plot and somehow those two came together. (Swampy also notes it's a funny word).

Several of the scripts for MML storyboarders included just the words, "and Murphy's Law happened."

Dan has made at least one Vinnie Dakota dedicated Tiktok similar to his Doof ones.

The Doof and Dakota lines were recorded together, back and forth.

Melissa was going to have a hamster nemesis named Ham. In the Pitch Bible the name wasn't included, but it's explained it was a pet class hamster that would always escape and end up on her things.

The secret handshake Milo and Zack do in scream-a-tourium was intended to be longer.

The studio executive for MML originally thought The Island of Lost Dakota's was a joke idea until he read the script.

There was a MML kids menu at Disneyland circa 2016.

Dakota and Cavendish were originally not in the shows ideas, nor was any B-plot, but being used to it in PNF the writers room felt they "needed something to cut away to"

Joshua Pruett pitched for the MML x PNF crossover for where when Milo opened his backpack to pull out the thing he needed to save the world it'd be...Phineas and Ferb.

Dakota is the reason parking tickets exist, as he can be a bit careless about leaving time vehicles all over the place. Dakota is proud of this.

Melissa's likeness and name is based on Dan's daughter Meli, as to sorta "balance out" Isabella also being based on his other daughter.

They considered a twist where Bob Block would be an alien wearing a face mask.

"Cavendish Farms" is an episode that never came to be pitched by Pruett where in order to track Cavendish Dakota would try to duplicate Cavendish, though none of them would quite be Cavendish. One of the Cavendishs would have a heart to heart with Dakota, while Doof would ultimately call out Dakota for what he's doing and tell Dakota "you already know what he would do." dwampy rejected this idea because this was a bad idea, to which pruett felt that is exactly why Dakota would have tried it. if renewed, pruett would have tried to convince them more on it.

Chop Away at My Heart was originally called "Jump Jump Jump" and was made for another project by one of Dan's friends. After Dan have asked to transform it into something else for Milo, Joshua Pruett suggested a "Lumberjack themed boyband" in the script.

unfortunate split for character block limit

Dakotas voice was inspired by Elvis Costello. It's also the harder voice for Dan in comparison to Doof.

Mark Hamill originally auditioned to play a teacher on the show, but Dwampy liked his audition so much they decided he'd better fit Mr. Block.

In the MML pitch bible it is stated, "Mikey has a destiny to fulfill, something vital to the future of the planet." The goal of Cavendish and Dakota would be to make sure he stays on the right path.

There IS a full version of We're Going to the Zoo, which was played by Dan in this interview at 3:00:30. Several MML songs have had full versions leaked, implying this is probably the case for some other songs too.

Like several other characters, Sara in the MML pitch bible was different from her show counterpart, being "a hipster like Thora Butch in Ghost World."

The song "A World Without Milo" is based on the song "Happy Together" by "The Turtles"

Almost every character, including creatures or minor one-offs had a name in the script. An example is "Pia," the name of the poodle Diogee falls in love with.

In regards to when Dakota talks about cutting through the Mesozoic in First Impressions and the fact it is illogical, Dan says this is likely just Dakota being Dakota (aka, it was a mistake), and not every such line should be taken serious.

In a deleted "Snow Way Out" line it was confirmed that the raccoon in Going the Extra Milo and Fungus Among Us is recurring raccoon.

Brick and Savannah were going to have a role in the crossover.

Story ideas from the MML pitch bible that never came to include a beach episode, a Friday the 13 episode, and an episode where Cavendish and Dakota try convincing Milo to take a self defense class leading to conflict with a hidden ninja gang.

For unspecified characters (probably multiple different sets) Pruett wrote in hugs that were cut by (mostly) Dan. In response, he says he "put 4 in so at least 1 stays."

S3 would have likely included: A third Block (yes, still voiced by Mark Hamill and a Block "family meeting"), Milo creating the universe, Dakota and Cavendish getting the promotion they wanted but being unsatisfied, Elliot cleverly being connected to the overarching plot, AU exploration (akin to pnf) including an episode where Dr Zone is real, and a conclusion to the Prof Time arc. The overarching plot would have been the "biggest yet."

credits to: danvillecheese for suggestions + encouragement, cheetochild989 for facts the fact about going to the zoo and a world without milo, the 2nd dimension on YouTube, my hamsterward friends, and of course all the talented people who worked on MML :3

[moonhoures]

baby

pairing: jake (enhypen) + reader (fem.)

genre: non-idol!au, college!au (barely), smut

warnings: explicit smut, 18+, minors do not interact, friends with benefits, masturbation (fem.), oral (fem. receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex irl!), pull out method, pet name “baby” for reader

word count: ~4.3K

a/n: based heavily off of the lyrics of madison beer’s song “baby”! hope you enjoy 😚

posted: august 7th, 2023

One downside of living with a roommate was the lack of alone time. You liked having your privacy and found yourself looking forward to the times when you got the apartment to yourself. Fortunately enough, your roommate had been working with their friend on a project for a class and the due date was tomorrow. So, they had told you they were going to stay the night at their partner’s dorm for the night so they could work on finishing their project. You did a good job at hiding how elated you were about this information, but you were already planning what you would spend the night doing.

They left right before dinner time, so you ordered some take-out for yourself. You dined in the living room, watching an episode of your favorite TV show. Then you went to take a shower, not worried about taking too long because your roommate wouldn’t be waiting on you like usual. You let your music play as loud as you wanted, and you sang at the top of your lungs. You walked from the bathroom to your room, draped only in your towel, and decided to put on a cute sleep set you had gotten from Victoria’s Secret.

With your hair still damp, and a sheen on your skin, you stood in front of the full length mirror at the corner of your room. You admired the set on you. It had sat at the bottom of your pajama drawer for months, forgotten, until tonight. You forgot how cute it looked on you. The black, silky material felt so good on you, and the floral trim hugged the top of your breasts nicely. You looked too damn good to keep to yourself.

You took your phone from the top of your dresser and opened the camera app, snapping some sultry pictures of yourself. You didn’t have any intentions of sending them to anyone in that moment, but you never know. The opportunity could arise someday where you could send them to someone.

After your makeshift photoshoot, you went back to the living room to watch a movie and enjoy some dessert. The movie you threw on was one you had seen many times before, so you were only vaguely paying attention. About an hour into it you found yourself growing bored. You switched the movie to one you had never seen before, hoping it would keep your attention this time.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t. Another hour passed, and you were growing restless. You felt uncomfortable despite being in the most comfortable pajamas, on the coziest couch, in the plushest blanket you had. Then, as the two main leads in the rom-com that you were half-enjoying started to make out, it dawned on you. You were horny.

You reclined yourself length-wise on the couch, sliding your hand under the silky shorts, feeling your folds. The pads of your fingers started to rub up and down the skin, attempting to warm them up. After a minute or so, you began to move your fingertips around your clit. Your body felt like it was heating up from the stimulation, but after several minutes there was practically no progress. Something didn’t feel right, and you weren’t sure exactly what. You wet the pads of your middle and ring fingers, going in for a second attempt, massaging your labia. You felt yourself growing wetter, but the usual feeling of excitement just wasn’t there. Maybe it’s just one of those nights, you thought to yourself. It just didn’t feel as good as you wanted it to. It felt incomplete.

For a moment you contemplated calling the one person that you knew could help you ease the tension you were riddled with. Then you decided, fuck it.

You grabbed your phone from beside you, opening it and going straight to the contacts. Your fingertips expertly swiped right to his name, tapping it before bringing the phone to your ear. While the dialing tone rang a couple times, you twirled the drawstrings of your sleep shorts. The line picked up and you instinctively sat up straighter.

“Someone better be dying.”

You smirked to yourself, “You know I wouldn’t call you this late unless something was wrong.”

There was a muffled sound from his end, like he was sitting up in bed. For a second you worried you might’ve woken him up—only for a second, though, “So, what’s wrong, ________?”

“I’m bored. And I really need you to come keep me company.”

Jake wasn’t stupid, far from it, actually. He was one of the smartest people you knew. It was one of the many things that made him so attractive.

“So you’re horny? _______, you do know it’s almost one in the morning, right?”

You tried to stifle a laugh, but the smile was still in your voice when you spoke, “Come on, Jake. I need you so bad. It’s been so long since you came over.”

Jake scoffed, “You were at my dorm three nights ago.”

“Yeah, that’s why I said ‘since you came over’. Keep up, Sim.”

The corner of your lips lifted further into a hopeful smile when there was a long pause. He hadn’t said “no” yet, which is a really good sign. The odds of him coming over were highly in your favor.

“You can’t just masturbate or something? I have class in the morning, so I really need to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ve tried. It doesn’t feel as good as you do. And I have class tomorrow, too. We could always skip, though. My roommate won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon, so we could always have round two in the morning.”

Another, longer pause. You were so close.

“You’re crazy.”

He just needed one more push, then he would surely come running. You had an idea.

“I might be, but I always keep you coming back for more. If it sways your decision, I took some really cute pictures earlier. Fresh out of the shower,” while you spoke, you opened your text messages with him and quickly selected some of the mirror photos you took. You sent them without any hesitation, your heart pumping a little faster when they were immediately marked as ‘Read’.

A small groan emitted from him, and that’s when you knew you had won him over. He was coming, whether he liked it or not. Thank God you took those pictures.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“The door will be open for you, as always,” you sing-songed to him before hanging up. You happily kicked your feet beneath the blanket that shrouded you. As stated before, there were many things to love about Jake, and one of them was how absolutely down bad for you he was. Sure, you two weren’t dating or anything; you two had just been casually hooking up for the past five months. But that didn’t stop him from practically worshipping you. He loved everything about you. He agreed to your decision to stay as friends with benefits because he figured if that was the only way to have a relationship with you, then so be it.

Several minutes passed, and you got up to go back to your room while you waited for him to arrive. You laid on top of the duvet on your bed, propping yourself up against your pillows to get comfortable. Just the thought of Jake coming over alone made you even more horny. You were already imagining how the night would go. There was no doubt in your mind that he would ask—no, beg—to eat you out, like he usually did. So you looked forward to that.

His tongue always felt so good between your folds, lapping up the juices that leaked from you for him. Because it was always for him, and only him. That was his favorite part. You grew restless at the thought of him and how he would touch you. How long would you have to wait for him?

You figured you could get started now, returning your fingers back to your heat. This time it felt much better, but there was still that feeling of insufficiency. Still, you were determined to feel something. So you continued with a vigor, massaging your clit, chasing any semblance of a release. Your knees were twitching and your toes were flexing as you started to feel the smallest hint of an orgasm.

“You started without me?”

You could hear the pout before you saw it. You didn’t even realize you had closed your eyes until you opened them to see Jake in the doorway of your room, dressed in gray sweatpants and a navy blue t-shirt. His blond hair was tousled (likely un-brushed) and confirmed that he had been sleeping when you called him.

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” you admitted, keeping a slow, steady rhythm on your folds. There was no shame anymore when it came to Jake. He had seen you in your most vulnerable states (sexually) so you weren’t embarrassed around him anymore. If anything, you knew it turned him on to watch you masturbate, “Are you just gonna stand and watch?”

Jake didn’t bother answering you; instead he just walked up to your bed and started to climb on. He had left his shoes at your front door before locking it behind him, so there was no hesitation. He knew exactly what he wanted, and his eyes were locked on it, covered in the thin, black, silky material. His mouth was already watering as he moved on hands and knees up your bed between your legs. He could practically taste you already.

Your boy toy was stopped in his tracks as your foot rested on the top of his shoulder, keeping him from moving any further. His eyebrows scrunched together and his lips formed into a pout as he sunk down in defeat. His glossy brown eyes resembled a wounded puppy when he looked up at you, looking for a reason as to why you were stopping him.

“Why are your clothes still on?” you asked simply, mirroring his pout. Though, while his was genuine, yours was mocking.

“I can take them off later,” he said, “I just wanna eat you out first.”

“At least take your shirt off, or you won’t be eating anything,” you set your foot back down on the bed and waited patiently for him to comply. He always did. He was a good boy.

Although impatient, he sat up and pulled the navy t-shirt over his torso and flung it behind him onto the floor. His hair stuck up in some places, but neither of you cared. He helped you tug your panties off before he got back down onto his stomach. His shoulders fit themselves between your knees, pushing them more to the side to make room. Honestly, that’s why you wanted his shirt off—to see his shoulders. They were broad and smooth, and you liked watching the way his back muscles flexed.

You watched as he sunk his face between the plush of your thighs, inhaling your familiar scent before pressing his flat tongue against your lips and dragging them up past your clit. You swore you heard him moan, but maybe you were hearing things.

Your legs shifted with his movements as he ate you out like a starved animal. If Jake was anything, it was a passionate pussy worshipper. He treated every time like it would be his last time. Sometimes you wondered if he was like this with every girl he hooked up with or just you.

“Shit, you taste so good,” he groaned after lapping at you for a few minutes. One glance confirmed that his lips were glossed with your juices. The tender skin of his lips were blushed red, “I would pay for pussy like this.”

“I should start charging you then,” you joked breathlessly, your fingers grasping the sheets beside you. His own fingers had begun pumping into you slowly, dragging in and out of your now-wet hole. Each thrust made you more sensitive.

“I would empty my bank account,” he replied without a second thought before diving back in, using his tongue to suckle your clit while his fingers sped up. Your legs tensed around his shoulders and your lower back arched a bit off the mattress. His name left your mouth in a breathy moan, making him go faster. He wanted your cum so bad it was driving him mad, “Cum for me, _______. Come on, baby.”

You clenched on his fingers, your orgasm following shortly after. Jake smiled to himself, watching his fingers pump and collect your cum. He never let any of it go to waste. He stuck his digits in his mouth, licking them clean before returning his tongue to your cunt. Any drop that he could reach was consumed. Even when he was done, he continued to lap at your wet folds, making your thighs twitch, attempting to close and shut him out. That’s when he knew you had enough, so he let up on you. He pressed simple, sweet kisses on the skin between your thighs and just above your groin.

“You taste like candy,” he said matter-of-factly as he sat back on his legs.

“Do I?”

“Mhm, the sweetest pussy ever,” he hummed with a smile that could only be described as pussy-drunk.

“The best you’ve ever had?” you asked, watching his eyes as he hovered over you, his bulge pressing against you through his sweatpants. Your jaw slacked open slightly as you felt him shift his hips subtly against yours.

“Of course, why do you think I always come back for more?”

“You’re right,” you chuckled, hands moving up to his face to bring him closer, “Be honest, though, I’m a handful.”

Just before his lips met yours he said, “That’s what hands are for.”

You hummed in satisfaction into his lips, tongues dancing together slowly, melting into each other with every flick. His hips continued to rut in between your legs, earning small whines and moans from you. You grasped at the top of his sweatpants, tugging at them. And even though he knew very well what you wanted, Jake enjoyed a good tease. So he ignored your want, continuing to leave a hickey below your jaw while you whined in frustration from attempting (and failing) to get his pants off.

A low chuckle erupted in his throat as he noticed you giving up, your hands resting on his waist, “You’re giving up that quick?”

“I’m not begging you to take your pants off,” you said with a hint of brattiness. Jake always called you that—a brat—and he knew it annoyed you. You didn’t want to be a brat, but you were one sometimes. In all honesty, he kind of liked when you acted like this. He liked when your lips pouted and you got impatient. It reminded him of how much you desired him. You two might not be dating, but it was always nice to feel wanted.

“You don’t have to beg,” he spoke so casually as he pulled back a little to look you in the eyes. He noticed a piece of hair clinging to your eyelash, so he moved it out of the way with his finger, “Just ask nicely, baby.”

“Please take your clothes off,” you batted your eyelashes for good measure. Jake’s favorite part of you—besides your pussy, of course—was your lips, but your eyes were a close second.

“Close enough.”

You internally celebrated as he got up to remove the gray sweatpants and his black boxers. You only had a moment to admire his erection before he was getting back on the bed. There usually wasn’t a certain power dynamic between the two of you in these situations—though Jake was very obviously more whipped for you and willing to do what you said. But when it came to positions, he was more likely the one to choose them. He didn’t even bother asking, just telling you or putting you into whatever position he wanted you in, and you usually didn’t mind. You simply propped yourself to his liking and enjoyed the experience, and tonight was no different.

His veiny hands gripped your thigh, and one look of his eyes let you know how he wanted you. You turned onto your stomach, and his hand pushed one of your knees up so that your cunt was spread for him. He got behind you, slightly straddling your leg that was still straight. His other knee was just behind yours that was bent. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel him pumping his dick in preparation. The sounds were already wet, presumably from his spit, and boy were they arousing. You could feel yourself growing wetter by the second.

“Ready?” he asked in that sultry accent of his.

“Mhm,” you were practically moaning already. You clenched at nothing, full of anticipation before you felt him at your entrance. You subconsciously sucked in your breath while he slowly slid into you. A small hiss escaped his lips as your tight walls hugged him, almost threatening to never let go—not that he wanted them to anyways.

“Fuck,” he whispered out, head thrown back as he bottomed out inside of you. A smirk played on the edge of his lips.

You barely gave him a moment to enjoy the feeling of just being inside of you before you started to push your butt up against him. His hands quickly caught you by the hips, stopping you and making you whine. He shook his head, but he gave you what you wanted nonetheless. He began to thrust into you at a moderate, shallow pace. His knees dug more into the mattress with every stroke, which progressively got quicker and more harsh as he went on. You never complained though, living for the roughness. You let out a string of groans and phrases that spurred him to keep going.

“How’s that, baby?” his voice sounded closer than before, and it was then you realized he was hovered over you now. His hands were digging into the bed beside each of your shoulders. His lips placed a kiss on your back just beside your neck.

“Perfect,” you replied. That was the only way you could think to describe it. The pace was great, a little fast but not too fast. Jake’s cock wasn’t too big or too small, it was just right; it was like it was made for you. And he knew just how to use it, hitting you so good it made you drool.

You were on the verge of tears from how good he felt, babbling some nonsense to him. He merely laughed softly at you, joking that you sounded dumb but that you “looked so cute like this”. You wondered what was so cute about you getting fucked to the point you could barely speak coherently or lift your head properly.

There was a pressure beginning to form in your lower tummy and you hummed, arching your back and stuffing your head into the pillow below you. You let out a load moan when he gripped your waist even tighter and deepened his thrusts, slowing down the slightest amount. You could feel him so well like this. You felt so full. So warm. While your moans were muffled by the pillow, his were let out proudly into the room.

“I love this pussy when it’s all mine,” he spoke breathlessly as he slowed down even further, treating every stroke like it had a purpose. He could feel you clenching around him, getting closer. It was driving him insane, “Isn’t that right, baby? All mine?”

You spoke but it was useless, he couldn’t hear anything because of the pillows. With the patience of an angel, he reached up with one hand to grip your hair. He gently pulled your head to the side and slid some of the stray hair away so he could see your face.

“What was that?” he teased, that damn smirk remaining on his lips.

“All yours,” you mumbled, glancing back at him.

His eyes seemed to darken from the contact, and he resumed picking up the pace just enough to get your orgasm closer again. You stuffed one of your arms between you and the bed, wedging it under your body until you felt your core. The moisture collecting on it from Jake’s thrusts was enough to help you massage your clit.

The room got to the point where it felt ten degrees hotter, and your body felt on fire, especially in your lower regions. The pressure had returned in full force, getting lower and lower. You begged Jake to make you cum, and who was he to deny you? He kept the pace up for you religiously, not faltering for even a second. Not even when your insides twitched and convulsed around him, seemingly wanting to anchor him inside of you. He grew even weaker when his name fell from your lips like a song and you came around him. Your insides grew slick, making it easier for him to slide in and out of you. It felt like pure ecstasy to him. He could die now and he’d die a happy man.

He was so lost in that feeling that he hadn’t had the realization that you did in that moment. Even in your orgasmic bliss, your eyes grew wide and your body went stiff.

“I’m gonna cum,” Jake whimpered, now sitting back on his knees while he continued to rut into your messy cunt with a new verve.

“Jake, we didn’t use a condom! You have to pull out,” you tried to stay calm, but your tone very much sounded panicked.

Still, Jake only hesitated for a moment before quickly thrusting again. He wanted—no, needed—to cum soon, “I will, ________, I promise.”

You had no reason to distrust him. After all, Jake was one of the very, very few guys you felt safe having sex with, even more so than some boyfriends you’ve had in the past. You two had only ever not used a condom once before, and that was also because you both forgot one. Luckily, Jake pulled out without you even having to ask, and he was really helpful in calming you down when you worried about it afterwards. You just had to have faith in him this time too.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he panted, his abdomen twitching. He was so close. So close.

“You can’t cum in me, Jake,” you reminded him, taking a deep breath. Despite the fact that you were in panic mode, you couldn’t resist how good he felt. He was still filling you up so perfectly that if you were in any worse state, you probably would’ve let him cum then and there without a care in the world. And you both would’ve loved every second of it.

“Gonna cum,” he repeated, eyes screwing shut. His neck was flushed red. Sweat clung to his hairline. His fingers gripped you like a lifeline. But he wouldn’t let up.

“Don’t you dare cum inside me. Don’t you fucking dare, Ja- Fuck,” your own moaning cut you off, catching you off guard. Your forehead slumped back into the pillows as your eyes screwed shut and your fists tightened.

You clenched on him again, but he managed to pull out with just enough time to spare. The moment his tip fell out of you, the first ropes of his cum were landing on the back of your thigh. Grunts were choked out of him with every spurt, making his body twitch. He let out some quiet expletives, and his hand helped him complete his orgasm, milking everything out onto your leg. Not one drop inside of you, just like you said. Once again, he was your good boy.

“Please tell me you didn’t get any on my bed,” you groaned, looking back at him with hopeful eyes.

He did a quick check, breathing heavily as he lifted your thigh to see beneath it. He shook his head, and you took that as a sign to relax fully onto the pillows. While you kept your eyes closed and recuperated, Jake left the bed to fetch some toilet paper from your bathroom. When he came back, you both mellowed in the comfortable silence while he wiped your leg for you. He took a few seconds between cleaning to admire how sound you looked, as if asleep already. You did look cute when you slept, according to him. No matter how rough he would be with you in bed, he always saw you as the one he would do anything for and protect until you didn’t want him to anymore.

“Are you sleeping over?” you asked once he returned from throwing the soiled toilet paper and washing himself up. He was in the middle of sliding his boxers back on. He swiped his hair back from his face, exposing his dampened forehead. Even in the crappy lighting of your college apartment, after a messy sex session, he still looked like a model.

“Depends, what YouTube videos are you going to make me watch while we go to sleep if I stay?”

You thought about what videos you had been watching as of late, and then your eyes widened excitedly, “I did watch a video of this girl telling ghost stories the other day and didn’t get to finish it, can we watch that?”

“________, you know I don’t like that stuff,” his face contorted into a mix of discomfort and pleading. He couldn’t handle most scary stuff, much less ghost stories. He wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“Come on, Jake, they’re not even scary,” you sat up in bed and patted the open spot beside you, gesturing for him to take it. He shuffled towards it begrudgingly, letting out a deep, dramatic sigh as he got into bed with you again. He noticed you had slipped your black panties back on but his shirt was the one you were wearing, and he tried not to smile. He would have to leave his clothes here for you more often.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a like, reblog, and/or a message in my inbox! i would love to hear your feedback! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Gone II

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of the Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your mothers deal with your separation anxiety.

After your breakdown from Pernille's absence and a bit of research, your mothers quickly came to the conclusion that you were experiencing a bit of separation anxiety.

It made sense, sadly.

Pernille had been your constant since birth, with Magda popping in as often as she could but being restricted to the phone screen for most of your life.

It makes perfect sense that Pernille's absence makes you worried.

Which was why, though heartbreaking, they were doing this in the first place.

You're sat on the carpet, having some supervised Lego play (Magda worried incessantly that one day you would put a brick in your mouth when they weren't looking).

"I don't know," Pernille says, chewing on her bottom lip as she watches you.

Ever since your little episode, you had been relentlessly clingy and sweet but she didn't exactly want you to go through what you went through last week all over again.

"It's for the best," Magda says, though there's a waver in her voice," She can't just stay like this. What happens when she starts going to school?"

The question lingers for a moment before Pernille sighs and goes to put on her shoes. You perk up when she passes you, thinking that she's come to play Lego with you but she doesn't. Your brow furrows in confusion.

"Momma?" You call as you watch her slip on her shoes. "Where you going?"

They'd established through this past week that your anxiety only flared up when your routine broke. You were happy to abandon Pernille at training or to go with Magda to the park or shopping but if Pernille was anywhere different to where you'd left her then you'd burst into tears.

Her putting on her shoes to leave at this time of day very much broke your routine.

"Just out, princesse," She says, trying to act blasé about it, to not worry you further.

Your worried crinkle appears regardless though. You stand on your feet and wander closer. You spy your shoes sitting neatly next to Morsa's. You sit by Momma and put your feet out to her, to get her to put your shoes on.

She picks you up by your armpits and sets you back on your feet. "No, princesse," She says firmly but not unkindly," Momma's going out. Not y/n."

Your next question comes out in a quivering whine. "Why?"

"Because Momma needs to grab something from the post office." It's not a lie. There was something waiting at the post office but Pernille could have easily just had it redelivered to the house if she really wanted to. It's about twenty minutes there both ways plus however many minutes it took to actually get the package.

It wouldn't be as long as your separation last week but certainly the longest you've been separated since.

You seem to realise something similar as your chin wobbles and your crinkle gets deeper. "I..." You look around at Morsa, who hasn't gotten up. You tap your chest. "I go too. Shoes. Please."

Momma laughs and strokes your cheek with a finger. "Silly y/n," She says," You need to keep Morsa company."

You tap her on the arm. "Keep you company."

"Oh, princesse. I think-"

She doesn't get to finish though because you're scooped up and placed on Morsa's hip. You hadn't even seen her move and suddenly you've no escape.

Momma moves to kiss you on the cheek a few times, pulling away wistfully. "I love you," She says, looking into your arms," I love you so much. I'll be home very soon."

Your worried eyes follow her to the door, staring longingly at it seconds after it has been closed. You look between it and Morsa and then you promptly burst into tears.

Morsa bounces you. "Okay," She says," Okay, princesse. Come on."

Magda picks her way back to the sofa, careful to avoid your scattered Lego bricks. She slouches in her seat, propping her legs up on the ottoman and leaning you back against her folded knees.

You're still sobbing but not quite hysterical just yet. You keep looking back at the door pitifully as fat tears roll down your cheeks. Your Morsa's calm look and the rhythmic way she's rubbing your tummy makes your sobs quieten until its only short bursts of sucking breaths in.

"How are you feeling, princesse?"

Morsa's a little slow sometimes, you think. It's pretty clear how you're feeling.

"Wan'-Wan' Momma."

"I know." She's completely sympathetic and sweet and it distracts you slightly from your want for Momma. "But she'll be home very, very soon."

Your tummy clenches at the reminder that your Momma isn't here. It almost sets off another wave of tears. But Morsa keeps talking.

"You know, before you two moved here, I missed you and Momma so much."

You blink away tears and say shakily," Really?"

She nods. "Uh-huh. I missed you both with every little bit of me. But I found ways to cope." She gasps like she's just remembered something. "Do you know what? I think I can make you miss Momma a little less. Would you like that?"

You nod pitifully.

You're back on Morsa's hip again and you rest your cheek against her shoulder, completely limp against her as you stare blankly ahead.

Morsa takes you to her and Momma's room and she grabs a nice-looking wool jumper from the top of the dresser. It looks warm and it's a nice dark green that's not exactly Christmas tree colour but close.

She sets you on the Big Bed and you whine when you're out of her grip. Morsa crouches in front of you.

"This was Momma's from way back when we used to play with each other at Linköping. When I left, I took this with me because it smelt like Momma and it helped me when I missed her."

She holds out the jumper to you and you sniff the fabric.

She's right. It does smell like Momma.

Morsa bunches it up and pulls it over your head. The arms are floppy and it fits you like a dress, almost dragging on the floor. But you don't really care. It's like being wrapped in a nice blanket of Momma even though she's not here.

"Now," Morsa says," Every time you're missing Momma, I want you to close your eyes and take a nice, deep breath of Momma's jumper and think about how much she loves you, okay?"

You do as she says and relax marginally.

"Now, Momma will be home very, very soon. What do you want to do while we wait?"

You feel a little bit teary but you manage to squeak out," Lego." You poke at her chest. "With you."

When Pernille comes home just under an hour later, it's not to carnage. You're sitting with red-rimmed eyes on the floor, telling Magda where to put each brick, wrapped up warmly in Pernille's ratty old jumper from years ago.

You don't look completely at ease without her, especially when you spot her and abandon Magda completely in favour of barrelling towards her like a charging rhino, going limp in her arms as they wrap around you (and then refusing to leave them until dinner). But it's better than nothing.

It's still progress and that's all the really matters.

Besides, you look extra cute and cuddly in your stolen clothes.

[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.

[wenellyb]

How I feel about Buddie...

You guys have been warned, this is a long post.

I've always liked 911 and was a casual viewer but never got involved in the fandom or anything. Of course I knew about Buddie, but I personally never saw it. Buck and Eddie have always acted like best friends and do stuff best friends do. I have never seen any scene that could be interpreted as romantic, except maybe for the "you want to go for the title" scene. But to me it wasn't enough to ship them, especially since it was the only scenes in their hundreds of scenes together that could be seen as romantic.

That being said, I've always thought the ship was cute, and I understand it because who doesn't like a good friends to lovers storyline?

I just never got involved in the fandom because their behavior reminded me of the Stucky and Destiel fandom, which were chaotic experiences for me. Some people just don't know how to handle non canon ships and act entitled, complain to the showrunners and harrass the cast. I've always tried to avoid fandoms like that, but wasn't against the idea of Buddie as a ship.

The 911 Lone Star crossover episode for me was the confirmation that Buck was into men. To me, it was obvious they confirmed he was into men but hadn't set up a storyline yet. So naturally I thought... if they set up a storyline it will be with Eddie. There was no doubt it my mind.

So fast forward, a few years, I wasn't really watching season 7 and then I see all the fuss from Buddie shippers I follow, and it makes me watch the sneak peek video from 7x04 and I'm like....For sure Buck is being jealous right? (it was the scene where Eddie interrupted Tommy giving Buck a tour)

So I decided to watch the episode convinced this was going to be the episode where they confirmed Buddie, but I was also very cautious because Buddie shippers had cried wolf too many times before.

So I was careful, but I was also convinced that this was it: "Buck was going to get jealous of Eddie hanging out with Tommy and then confess his feelings or the other way around".

And that's actually what was happening until the end of the episode, we saw Buck get jealous, and most of us assumed he was being jealous about Eddie.

We didn't figure out until the end of the episode that it was all about Tommy.

And that's the beauty of that episode because you think you're watching something when in fact you're watching something else and when you rewatch some scenes you understand it, and that plot twist was written so beautifully.

So we have Buck and Tommy have a heart to heart in Buck's kitchen and they kiss. And what a kiss... the kiss itself was Nice but the look Buck gave Tommy after the kiss was breathtaking.

From that moment on, I was rooting for them.

But I still had Buddie at the back of my mind because I was thinking, what if this is all temporary and they're planning to break them up to set up a buddie storyline? So I shipped it but didn't want to get my hopes up.

This feeling got bigger when I started watching 7x05 and I saw the way their first date ended. I thought... this is it, we might not see Tommy again, what a shame. But then Buck talked to Maddie about his date and confessed it was with Tommy. And Maddie asked: "so tell me about the hot pilot", and I thought this isn't how they'd talk about a character we never see again. But I didn't know for sure.

Maybe they were setting up a Buck x Eddie storyline....

I changed my mind when I saw Buck's coming out scene to Eddie, the scene was beautiful and at that point I still was thinking Buddie was a possibility. But one line made me think that Buddie wasn't happening: "I can't stop thinking about him".

No writer would put a line like that and have Oliver say it like that with that look, if they were thinking Buck and Eddie would have a romantic scene in the future. And if you do write that, you would get a jealous reaction from the other character, not a "You should call Tommy".

And then I was conforted in my feelings when the writers doubled down and had Buck invite Tommy to Maddie's wedding. Buck could have just apologized and asked Tommy on antoher date, but no, he invited him to his sister's wedding.

There has been absolutely no hint of a romantic relationship between Buck and Eddie throughout the season. There has never been a sign of jealousy from Buck or Eddie's side when they were dating Tommy, Marisol. If they had been setting up that storyline, the writers would put some hints here and there. Instead, they shared meaningful scenes like best friends do.

I never had anything againdt Buddie as a ship, I was even open to it, but all the times I thought Buddie was going to happen, it was because of the fandom, not because of something I saw in the saw...To me Buddie is and will stay a fanon ship.

TL:DR: I don't hate the ship, I find it cute but the behavior of some shippers has made me want to stay away from the fandom. And when I thought Buddie might be happening, the writers showed us they had long term plans for Bucktommy.

[sofs16]

ripples in our love

part 1: paddock day , part 2: our leclerc win, part 3: our love in photos, part 4: our home — next

not proofread and lots of text / paragraphs ahead:)

“are you sure you don’t want to come with me” charles asked as he was putting on his shoes.

“charles, i’ve been with you all year and break, have fun with your friends.. just not too much fun” you laughed, clutching your robe closer to your waist as a shiver went down your spine from the ac.

“but i love spending time with you, amour” he sighed, standing up, holding your face between his palms, and kissing you.

“what, you don’t wanna drink and be manly?” you raised a brow “i mean… i do…” he thought about it “go” you whispered with a reassuring smile. you weren’t one for parties and a part of you was worried charles was being restrained to hang out with his friends because of that, so you encouraged him to have a night out before the races.

“i’ll be back by 12” he kissed you for the last time and you giggled “you better come back home to me, leclerc” you scolded “of course, where else?” and then the door shut.

2am, that’s what the time was. you were sat on the couch in your shared apartment. it was 2 hours since you saw that nightmare of a post. you have been getting multiple texts by the minute.

a part of you wanted to be childish and run away, never facing him. but that wouldn’t be right at all.

you heard the keys jingling on the other side of the door and heard a grunt and stumble. you gulped but trained your eyes on the tv, not really watching the episode of gossip girl.

“amour! you’re here!” charles replied with a cheer in a sluggish manner. he frowned when you didn’t turn around to look at him, or greet him with a kiss or hug as you usually did.

“amour?” he mumbled, stumbling over the couch, clearly drunk. his eyes lit up once they saw your face and he trained to kiss you but you held his face in between your hands before he could. “are you thinking straight right now, charles?”

no nickname. the gears in charles’ head weren’t fast enough at the moment.

“of course, let’s go to bed” he smiled “charles, you kissed another woman” you said quietly, as if you didn’t want to believe it

“No! That’s crazy. I only love you. You only. You’re my everything. I dont like anyone else. You’re my girlfriend. I’ll make you my wife one day” he said against your chest, shaking his head

you found yourself to be someone who cries when they’re frustrated or overly happy. “let’s talk in the morning and get you into bed, ‘kay?” you helped him up as he tried his best to sober up.

unlike the many showers you had together, you left him to shower on his own, making sure he was balanced enough before shutting the bathroom door.

the shower sobered him up quickly. cold water tricking down his body as he revisited the events of tonight. oh how he had messed up.

he stepped out of the shower to see his favorite shirt out, though all his favorite shirts were yours, it was his that was put out. he walked out of the bathroom to find you setting down the trashcan beside the bed, just in case.

“amour, can we talk please?” he held your hand but you dropped it. “tomorrow charles, okay? let’s get you to rest first” you pulled the covers over him, made him take headache pills.

“you… are not sleeping beside me?” he asked as you made your way to the door. “not tonight, charles” you whispered, turning off the lights and shutting the door.

though he was overthinking that night, the alcohol helped him sleep throughout that night, unlike you.

he woke up and frowned at there being no dip on your pillow and side of the bed. he rubbed his eyes, taking his cellphone and that’s when he remembered it all.

he jumped up the bed and rushed in getting the door open, in hopes to find you. you were sitting at the dining table, staring at the floor below you, tiredness evident through your eyes.

“amour?” you looked up “do you remember it?” you asked and he nodded, taking the seat adjacent to you. “why” you turned to him, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“i- i don’t know. i swear- amour i thought she was you” “i’m fucking blonde, charles” you furrowed your eyebrows

“you know how i am after i drink” true “i don’t- i don’t know what to do, charles” you shut your eyes closed

“amour please, you mean everything to me, you are my everything. if i could take it back or if i had stayed at home with you that night, i would. please don’t leave me” he held your hand quietly. you couldn’t say anything.

silence greeted him.

“tell me what you are thinking. call me names, scream at me, i do not care— just let me in” he asked.

when he said that, he thought you would burn him to the ground and pick on every flaw he had, even hearing you say you wish you had never dated him. your words… were not that.

“i think…im thinking if i’m enough for you” charles was shocked. “i think about all the girls you could have who are prettier, more famous, kinder, and everything more than i am but you’re stuck with me” you groan in frustration as tears start to well up. “and i can’t help but see you with someone else and it hurts” there they were, tears falling too quick for you to see. charles had never seen you cry, truthfully. “it hurts knowing— you could just leave me and maybe even be with that girl you were kissing last night” you sniffled

“yn,” he said quietly, wiping your tears away “i don’t want to be with anyone else. only you. and i don’t care if they are the models of the year or what. you are the prettiest girl to me and- i cannot let you think that low of yourself. i am so sorry, amour. please, let me fix this somehow. anything, i will do anything”

“i think i need space and time, charles” you looked up to his face. he knew if it weren’t serious right now, you most likely would’ve made an avengers infinity stone joke you were thinking about it, but no words came out

“i- yes. i understand. i’ll go out for a whil-” “i mean, i’ll go back to the house in paris for some while” “what?” his heart sank. “it makes sense right now charles. i need space to think and plus, i was going to go there anyways for fashion week” you rubbed your eyes.

charles knew your relationship with your parents were wobbly as you moved away from france to live in spain. but going back to them? that was how bad this was.

“are you breaking up with me?” he wobbled. “no, i just- i don’t know! i need to think charles” you stood up “please, yn! you- you are the only one for me please do not leave me” he pleaded hugging you from behind.

he hugged that girl from behind.

“you were in this position when you kissed her” you said quietly and charles shuddered at the thought of being with someone who isn’t you. “i’m sorry” you nodded and made a beeline to your bedroom.

30 minutes later you came out with 2 suitcases in hand. it was real. you were leaving. “will- will you be at the gp?” he asked quietly. maybe a little selfishly, but you were his comfort especially during nerve-wracking times like gps. you shook your head no. and he nodded, in understanding.

“do you want me to drive you to the airport?” he asked and you shook your head again. “good luck charles” you sighed, kissing his cheek. you meant for the gp— but so many things were going through his head. ‘good luck living a life without me’ was one of them.

yn.charlesupdate

liked by 2,438 others

yn.charlesupdate No yn at the paddock. Oh we’re done for. view all 7,337 comments

lestappen12 what did you think? she just saw the love of her life kissing another woman 2 days ago…

ferr4ribae im tired. august 25, 2024

charles_leclerc

liked by 3,449,494 others

charles_leclerc P2 for you :) Shame for what happened to Lewis on the first lap, we were lucky to finish the race even with the damage we had. See you next year, Zandvoort.

view all 2,484,399 comments

charlesyn17 He really got guts to post this like he didn’t just CHEAT on yn.

chachahaa cant believe you cheated on yn. she treated you like a king. that’s what’s a shame.

checheco1 Lewis deserved that P2 after what you did to yn.

nightleclerc … i can’t keep defending you charles

alphmercedez i hope you dnf 😊

august 26, 2024

yn instagram stories :

viewers — 3,595,606

❤️ charles_leclerc liked

❤️ maxverstappen1 liked

❤️ landonorris liked

❤️ yourbsf liked

and 1,832,584 others liked this story

yns_love

liked by yn, and 473 others

yns_love yn actin like he didn’t just cheat on her… but ok mother we love& trust u and will stfu

view all 1,494 comments

august 30, 2024

yncharle

liked by 6,373 others

yncharle 2 races with no yn. charles p3. 2 weeks radio silence from yn. bye.

view all 1,474 comments

september 11, 2024

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, and 10,484,484 others

yn 💌

view all 2,585,686 comments

leclerc_pascale Beautiful ❤️

⤷ yn merci maman 😆

⤷ ynlelllerc STOP 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹😭

landonorris You look cool in that 3rd photo 😎

⤷ yn cuz i am cool, landito! like u😊

⤷ carlossainz55 thats not true

⤷ yn dont be mean carlitos, youre cool too🫀

⤷ wagsgrid her interacting with the grid is so wholesome 🥹

ynsbeaut SHES BACK BITCHES!!

[liked by yn]

dior 🤍

charlesbae jesus did she buy the whole dior show?

⤷ yn GIRL IM NOT THAT RICH 😭 it was for fashion week 🤭

chachaaaa Are she and charles still together?

16s55love why is she just ignoring what happened.. she seems unbothered, did she even love charles :/

⤷ yn we’re handling this privately so please respect that and dont make such assumptions. and i do love charles, dearly :)

[liked by charles_leclerc]

⤷ ynscharles I CANT. THEYRE MY PARENTS YOUR HONOR

softwags._ will you be at baku?

september 12, 2024

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

august 21, 2024

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

Amour, I am so sorry and I hope you know I never meant for this to happen and you are the only one for me.❤️

y/n/n🤪🤍💒

thanks charles but i just need time, okay? :)

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

Of course, yes. I will just be messaging you every now and then, would that be alright?

y/n/n🤪🤍💒

mhm. good luck on sunday, charles

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

Thank you, belle. I will do my best for you❤️

[yn reacted ❤️]

.august 22, 2024

sharlie brown🫀🏎️

Hi belle❤️ If I am being honest, I am nervous for tomorrow and I wish you were here. I hope you are doing alright there. [yn reacted ❤️]

.august 24, 2024

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

hello ynn! I got P2 in today’s qualifying though I hope I can turn it into a win tomorrow. We miss you here at the paddock

.august 26, 2024

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

Hello amour❤️ Remained P2 today but unfortunately took Lewis out:/ I’m sure I’ll be getting an earful from the Mercedes fans but it is alright. I miss you and love you

.august 28, 2024

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

Hello, love! Thank you for the story you posted. I hope you are alright and doing well there. Don’t over work yourself, please. I have just landed in Monza and as usual, the fans are crazy! I wish you were here to feel the love they share for you as well. I miss and love you

.august 31, 2024

sharlie brown🫀🏎️

hi love:) I am quite stressed at the moment since the car engine almost gave in during the last turn. I feel it is my fault… anyways, I do not know if you have been watching. I hope you are doing alright. I love and miss you ❤️

september 1, 2024

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

P3 today. Disappointed to say the least because if I pushed more I could have won for you.I saw on twitter you are in fashion week already?Do what you love:) ❤️

forgot to say hi… Hi! I love and miss you

y/n/n🤪🤍💒 Don’t blame it on yourself, Charles. You can’t always be perfect or always P1 even if you want to. The most you can do is try your best next time and enjoy. You’re world champion and leading the world champion points now:) Fashion week is stressful but I can manage. Stay safe, Charles. I love you.

september 3, 2024

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

Hello my love, thank you. I really needed that. I wish I had replied sooner but I have been sleeping a lot.. haha. You will do great, I know you will. I love you, amour and miss you more than you know😘

september 5, 2024

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

Hello, beautiful! How is France?:)

y/n/n🤪🤍💒

hi charles:) france is good as always

sharlie brown🫀🏎️

Amazing photos! I miss you and love you❤️

september 10, 2024

y/n/n🤪🤍💒

would you mind if i went to baku this week and we talked?

#SOF: thoughts? :)

thank u btw for all the support in this lil series<3

@glow-ish — your tag! lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part! feel free to also send in messages thru the ask box hehe

[transformersoneiq]

TFO Actor AU Episode Four

More Hobbies

Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave are being interviewed.

Starscream: My hobbies? Well, I happen to be highly into fashion of the past!

Soundwave: And he always finds the most obscure weird vintage fashion pieces...

Starscream: They are not weird, they are art! You wouldn't understand! None of you would understand! The style, the elegance!

Starscream starts going on a rant and has to be stopped via Soundwave covering his mouth.

Starscream, grumbling after his mouth is uncovered: Whatever... anyways, does having a social media page for your pet count as a hobby? I have a page for my cyber-cat, Lord Bumble!

Shockwave: ...did you loosely name him off of B-127/Bumblebee?

Starscream: What?! No, don't be ridiculous! It has nothing to do with him.

Soundwave: Liar. You know one of your hobbies is also fawning over the little yellow guy, it's so obvious.

Starscream: I do not fawn over him!

Soundwave: Yes you do, just admit it already!

Starscream screeches in frustration and walks off.

Soundwave: ...guess it's my turn? One of my hobbies is DJing at a few different clubs. People really seem to appreciate how I do it and I'm happy to share my talent with them.

Shockwave: I go with him often. I don't really like clubs, but I want to be there to support my husband...

Soundwave: Oh, yeah, in case you guys didn't know, me and Shockwave recently got married. Bee was my best man and Star was Shockwave's and Alpha Trion officiated and Ravage was the cute little ring bearer... it was nice.

Shockwave: ...and then everyone got drunk and Starscream tried to fistfight Megatronus.

Soundwave: I still have the recording of Starscream getting his aft beat.

Shockwave: You should post it...

Soundwave: Maybe... Anyways, my other hobby is drawing while listening to music. I really like to just doodle whatever I feel when listening to the song. Just listen to the melody and let the pencil flow...

Shockwave: You have some really obscure singers you like, too...

Soundwave: Well, yeah, but I also like a lot of popular music. I mean, my main playlist varies from peppy pop songs to hard rock to folk songs.

Shockwave: It has over 3,000 songs...

Soundwave: Well, yeah, there's so many good songs I just hand to include!

Shockwave: I suppose so...

Soundwave: Anyways, your turn, dear!

Shockwave, suddenly nervous: Ah- uh- I like science. I perform all kinds of experiments. And I buy those chemistry sets for sparklings to see how far I can push them.

Soundwave: And he somehow manages to cause a mess whether it be fluids all over or a straight up explosion.

Shockwave: ...sorry.

Soundwave: It's fine, whatever make you happy, I'm fine cleaning up after it... just stop roping the minicons into your shenanigans...

Shockwave: But they have fun with it...

Soundwave: Yes, but they also tend to get hurt, even if the injuries are small.

Shockwave: ...anyways, I also like bugs.

Soundwave: He has a collection of terrariums with different bugs that he named. He cares a lot for the little critters.

Shockwave: They are so small and frail, yet so interesting...

Soundwave: You should do some experi-

Shockwave: NO!

Soundwave: ...you didn't let me finish.

Shockwave: I know what you were going to say... my beloved creatures are not test subjects and never will be!

[elsa-fogen]

Who's idea was to give me imagination with adhd? now suffer from it i guess

so, thanks to @calissarowan 's post about how season 8 could've been better and discussion in replies, i started thinking of the second set of headcanons, that doesn't throw away season 8 entierly, but instead takes parts that have more potential and, well, uses said potential. Also, i'm taking some things from my main headcanons, like Icy's parents and siblings and adding Sapphire to the pile

i was also thinking about how i hate the idea of Icy's hair color not being natural, and how stupid it is to give her golden hair, and how the color reminds me of stella and her mom

and them my thoughts collided and i thought.

what if Icy's mom and Stella's mom were sisters.

NOW, IMAGINE THE EPISODE, WHERE ICY'S BACKSTORY IS REVEALED.

Winx and Trix for some reason go to Dyamond at the same time, but without knowing that the other group went there. And while Icy's over the top aggression is understandable to Darcy and Stormy - she hides her sorrow behind it, for the Winx Stella's sudden sadness is a surprise.

Darcy and Stormy know that something bad happened to Icy's homeplanet, but she never told them everything, so, now she finally decides to tell. At the same time the Winx ask Stella why she's so sad. And Stella tels them that her aunt was the queen of this planet. While they go through abandoned palace, she tells how she used to play with her two cousins in these halls, while Icy tells about her older siblings. The scene switches between the two groups and Icy's and Stella's stories complement each other, while not making it clear WHO was Stella's cousin.

Finally the Winx reach one hall where big portrait of the royal family can be found.

Winx look at it, and the queen for some reason awfuly reminds them of someone, but they can't understand. Stella meanwhile shows all the children and calls their names (all of these were in Icy's part of the story), and finally she's down to the two younger princesses, the cousins she used to play, and she can't remember the name of the older one. "Isa? No, that's the other one, umm... Inee? Ivy?.. Oof, it's been so long ago, i forgot! I think, i used to call her Ivy, yes, and this is..." But Bloom looks at the princess, at her smirk. She feels like she has seen this smirk before, and it almost makes her uncomfortable. And these icy-blue eyes, while all the rest of the family has grey or dark blue eyes... and these bluish-gray hair... Bloom knows the answer, but doesn't want to realise it, and plays stupid to herself.

And at this moments the Trix appear. Icy has unusual soft and sad expression on her face, that disappears the moment she sees the Winx. "What are you doing here, stupid fairies?!" For some reason her voice trembles from anger and hatred more than usual, almost like Winx did something that hurt her personally.

Bloom finally admits to herself and says to Stella: "Her name was Icy". Stella looks at Bloom, not quite understanding what she's talking about. But then she realises, she looks at Icy shocked, and Icy suddenly looks at her with the same expression. And they scream simultaneously: "YOU ARE MY COUSIN?!!"

But this realisation doesn't stop Icy from wanting to kill all the Winx, and when the fight is about to begin... Sapphire appears and stops them.

Icy's shocked, she thought that all of her family was gone, and Sapphire tell her that it's, in fact, not true. And actually, all of her family is alive too, and the whole planet is, they are just cursed. Icy's stunned, she lived so many years thinking that she was the only survivor, and now turned out that it's not true. And that her planed can be saved. Bloom says that the same thing happened to Domino and suggests her help? Maybe? Honestly, I'm not sure how the story will progress from this moment.

[begrudging-fudanshi]

So i stared reading windbreaker after i saw your post about it , it's wholesome manga with amazing fights

in your opinion Why didn't nii satoru reveal Sakura's past until now ? Why was Sakura alone ?

Hell yeah. Welcome to the fandom. I'm glad my propaganda has been working.

To be honest, I've been thinking about this series way too much over the last couple weeks, so this is probably going to be A Lot. I am dumping a lot of accumulated thoughts in here and simultaneously trying to keep a bunch of other thoughts from cluttering it up. If any of this feels disjointed, it's because I've been trying (I swear) to not make this like 10,000 words long lmao.

(CW: Wind Breaker manga spoilers + discussion of child neglect, trauma, feelings of worthlessness, parental loss, grief, and a suicide attempt in the context of the series. Hope you're ready for some pain.)

I'm going to answer your questions in reverse order, because I think they're actually very closely connected.

Sadly, my read on Sakura's past is really dark. Based on what we know so far, there's a lot to suggest that Sakura has been badly neglected for a long time, both physically and emotionally. Based on his lifestyle and the way he talks about himself, I really struggle to believe that he's received any genuine affection or care in many years, if ever. (I'm so glad he was able to go to Furin.)

The flashbacks at the start of episode 1 of the anime suggest he was taken in by relatives who didn't want him, and I think they basically set him up for failure in every way. They seem to have done the bare minimum required of them by the law, like sending him to school, but I can see no evidence that they did much of anything else. Like, what kind of asshole sends a 15-year-old kid to live alone in a barren apartment with literally nothing to wear except his school uniform? Caring people wouldn't let a kid live like that. (That said, I have a bad feeling that his lifestyle seen in chapter 56 is an upgrade compared to what he had before.)

Given this, it's clear Sakura really means it when he says he's always done things by himself. I think this is why he looks so torn up when his friends show him real kindness and why he's so sensitive to anyone showing affection. I also think this means that he really wants to forget his past. This is a big part of why we haven't seen it revealed yet: Sakura isn't ready to revisit it, himself.

---

Something interesting about Wind Breaker's backstories is that they all (as far as I and my notes can remember) follow a consistent pattern. They're not just lore dumps that tell us about the character's past. They actually follow each character through a process of changing their beliefs about themselves, often based on their view of the past. This is why they're all in the first person. Some of these changes happen in the present while others are part of flashbacks, but either way the process is basically the same.

In each backstory, the character starts out believing something about themselves that gives rise to a contradiction that keeps them trapped. This belief somehow keeps them from living their best life and, often, stops them from changing their ways to make their best life possible. However, someone else helps them challenge that belief, giving rise to a revelation that lets them change how they see themselves. This change enables them to see new possibilities and lets them move forward towards the life they want.

For example:

Umemiya believed his parents would blame him for their deaths, so he couldn't let himself grieve them nor believe that he deserved to live. His guilt blocked out his memory of the event, keeping him from remembering what really happened. However, a nameless(?) Furin student and Shitara helped him realize that his parents saved him and were happy to see him survive. Thus, he was able to grieve and imagine a future for himself other than his self-destruction.

Kaji believed that his rage was uncontrollable and couldn't even see himself as human. Hiragi helped him realize that he could manage his triggers and change his behavior to be able to find acceptance and live his life.

Tsubaki believed that she couldn't like pretty things or express herself how she wanted. Ito and Yui helped her learn to dress up and present herself the way she liked, allowing her to accept herself and transition. (I know she's not canonically transgender but that's still the best way I can see to describe it.)

After Yui's death, Ito believed that she might never have truly loved him. Tsubaki, Sakura, Suo, and Nirei help him realize the secret meaning of the tree that she planted in his garden, letting him live his life without worrying if she was truly happy.

What's important here is that the character must be ready to have their beliefs about themselves challenged so they can understand their full truth. Otherwise, their story of their past would be incomplete. (Consider what Umemiya's backstory would have sounded like if he still believed he was a murderer.) In fact, we already have an example of this that I'll get to, next.

Because Sakura isn't yet in a position to challenge the beliefs holding him back, he can't reveal his past, either. He has friends helping him, but it's going to be a while before they've truly shaken his most unhelpful beliefs.

---

That said, this process has actually played out with Sakura once before and I think it tells us a lot. It shows us exactly why he's not ready to reveal his past.

In chapter 1, Sakura starts out believing that he's meant to always be alone, leading him to initially reject the people of Makochi. Then, Kotoha helps him acknowledge that he does want to be accepted and convinces him to give it a shot. However, while this is great progress and very necessary for Sakura's growth, this isn't a complete resolution. He still has an even more deep-seated belief that has to be addressed.

In addition to asserting that he's meant to be alone, Sakura also lays out another belief in chapter 1 that I argue really gets to the root of his deepest trauma. He doesn't quite say it explicitly, but it underpins both his belief that he's meant to be alone and that he's worth nothing but his fists.

The closest he comes to naming it is when he describes Furin. He says it's "The lowest of the low, hated by all others, worth nothing but their fists … It's a battle to determine the trashiest of the trash. That suits me perfectly."

I have to admit, the first few times I heard and read this, I completely missed how fucked up it is for a 15-year-old kid to say this about himself. I think I've gotten so used to taking shonen protagonists' confident declarations at face value that I just didn't question it, in the same way I've learned not to question, say, 12-year-old Gon deciding to become a pro hunter and travel the world fighting adults. The way it's presented very deliberately (and, I think, cleverly) blunts the impact as well, making use of shonen stylistic conventions to disguise it as stereotypical shonen protagonist bluster. This mirrors how Sakura masks his deeper feelings about himself.

However, as I read through the rest of the manga, it became clear that this is what Sakura actually, deeply believes. He's 15 years old and he truly sees himself as trash—in other words, worthless. The only way he can imagine finding worth in himself is through his strength. Even then, this is only for Sakura himself. He can't let himself imagine anyone else ever valuing him for any reason, so he must find self-worth all on his own. To put it more sharply, he can't imagine deserving unconditional love. Based on what little we do know about his past, this belief stems from a lifetime of emotional neglect.

The thing is, Sakura's belief that he's worthless is actually, paradoxically, a coping mechanism. As horrible as it is, it helps him rationalize his life in a way that lets him keep living despite his neglect and isolation. If he's truly worthless, then he's never had a reason to expect being loved or accepted by anyone—he's always been meant to be alone. This is how he can tell himself that he doesn't care and has given up. This lets him bury the pain of his isolation and pretend it doesn't truly hurt. By believing that he has always been worthless and unable to be (to deserve being) loved, he has had no reason to get his hopes up for the future, nor any reason to question why he's been treated so badly in the past. He can accept it (has to accept it), even if he hates it, because it was always inevitable.

Notice how Sakura reminds himself that he's given up right before punching the Spaltips' leader in chapter 1. This is the story he tells himself to contain the hurt. He does something similar in chapter 56, reminding himself that he's supposed to be alone as he grapples with his friends' kindness. He bludgeons himself with this reminder as a way to push away thoughts about his past. He then shifts his focus to thinking about his growing care for his friends rather than his feelings about himself. Once again, Sakura makes himself turn away.

The trouble is, this belief is his only means of holding back an unfathomable amount of pain inside of him. It's the only way he knows how to live with all the myriad ways he's been treated like shit. To doubt his own worthlessness, therefore, is to expose himself to overwhelming grief. Because, if he isn't worthless, he then has to ask himself why he had to suffer for so long. That kind of question is too awful for him—for pretty much anyone—to face on their own. This coping mechanism protects him, but it also traps him and prevents him from finding relief.

This comes to a head in chapter 1, as the townspeople surround him and the old woman tries to tend to his wound. As she reaches towards him, he screams at her to stay away. This act of genuine kindness fills him with terror. It's not just that he fears eventual rejection—Sakura fears the idea he could be accepted at all. Remember, he's just "failed" to win the fight and, worse, ended up having to be protected because he got hurt. Sakura could accept Kotoha's kindness earlier because he "earned" it by stopping her attackers, but now there's someone trying to help him for what feels like no reason. For Sakura, who must believe that he was never meant to be loved or accepted, being shown kindness for no apparent reason feels like an existential threat. It threatens to undermine the walls that he's built inside of him to keep going. This is why he allows Kotoha to help him instead—he can still rationalize her help as transactional.

This rationalization provides his means of escape. To accept his place in Makochi, he only has to accept that he doesn't have to be alone. He doesn't have to believe that he can be valued or loved unconditionally, nor that he deserved anything better. Instead, Sakura finds a way to "earn" his acceptance: The chapter culminates with Sakura accepting Bofurin, which he shows by leaping over all the others to kick the Spaltips' leader in the face.

By showing his strength, by upstaging the heroes and claiming his place among them, Sakura proves (to himself) that he is strong enough to be accepted. Rather than accept that he could always have been valued and accepted unconditionally—that he always could have been loved—Sakura would rather believe he's earned his acceptance based on his strength.

In this way, Sakura can continue to believe in his own worthlessness, saving himself from having to face his past. Because of this, even as he's learned that he can be accepted, he still maintained his belief that he was meant to be alone from the start (again, see chapter 56). This lets him continue to justify his past suffering and minimize his own pain.

This comes back around in chapter 162, when Sakura's classmates talk about his low self-esteem. Despite their efforts to show him that he's loved and valued, Sakura ultimately still believes he's only worth his strength. We see how he rejects Umemiya's praise, unable to understand how he could be praised when he "failed". Sakura can't believe he could be valued when he couldn't even single-handedly save the town.

But, as long as he believes this, his past will remain a mystery, not just to his friends and to us as readers, but even to Sakura himself. Just as Umemiya's repression kept him from realizing that his parents loved him, Sakura's repression keeps him from realizing that he has always deserved to be loved. He cannot acknowledge, can't even recognize, the pain he's endured in his life, because he still has to believe it didn't matter. Because of this, he can't let himself grieve or admit that he has always deserved better. He's still trapped believing he must always prove his worth through his strength alone.

Of course, changing this isn't going to be easy. He will get there. His friends will help him through it. Still, it's going to be rough. I think it'll be a while yet before he's ready to tell us about his past.

---

Addendum

All of that being said, something I really love about Wind Breaker is how hopeful it is and the way it shows Sakura living despite his past. To that end, I want to note one last thing: Sakura can still smile, despite everything else. No matter what he tells himself, he still feels hope.

I mentioned above that I didn't recognize Sakura's low self-esteem at first because it's masked with stereotypical shonen protagonist confidence. I think this is very deliberate by the author. We're supposed to see Sakura as cool, confident, and badass in the beginning, only to realize that he's also hurting inside. (Emphasis: that's also, not instead. These aren't mutually exclusive.) Sakura's cocky grin is part of a mask he wears, but it's not a lie.

While I believe Sakura has suffered a lot, it's important to emphasize that he's not broken or doomed to drown in grief. What I've laid out here is what I believe is going on beneath the surface, and I do believe he's going to have to face his trauma eventually, but let's not forget that our boy can still smile after all of that. The fact that he can smile doesn't mean that he's not hurting, but the fact that he's hurting doesn't mean he only feels pain. Let's not do him dirty by miring our view of him in grief. Instead, as we acknowledge how much he's suffered, let's also be happy at just how far he's come and hopeful for how far he'll go in the future.

[jedipoodoo]

Bring Them Home (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Notes: SPOILERS FOR SEASON THREE EPISODE TWO: PATHS UNKNOWN. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE SEASON THREE PREMIERE. Children, angsty Hunter Edit: STUPID TUNGLR POSTED THIS WHEN I MEANT TO SAVE IT SO PSA-- If you read this before 10pm EST on Feb 27, this one-shot is officially completed so please reread it again and enjoy it in its full glory.

gif by @dreamswithghosts

It had been months since you'd seen Hunter, so of course you and Phee were there when the Marauder touched down in the Archium. Wrecker waved to you both as the ramp lowered, beckoning to someone inside the ship.

Hunter said they were bringing someone with them, but you didn't expect the cadets-- the children --to look so bewildered when they stepped off the ship.

"They're so young," Shep said softly, and you wondered how round and baby-faced they must have been when they left Kamino, the only home they'd ever known.

The three cadets lingered on the steps of the ramp, looking around in earnest while Wrecker waited patiently.

"It smells like Kamino," the tallest said as you approached.

"Mox, did you see the ocean? D'you think they'll let us go swimming?"

"You can do whatever you want here!" Wrecker laughed encouragingly. He gave you his classic thump on the shoulders, and you smiled. It was the happiest you'd seen him since they lost Tech and Omega.

"Hi," You introduced yourself to the cadets, "What're your names?"

"I'm Deke. This is Mox, and that's Stak." The shortest of them stepped forward, while his brothers watched you warily.

"And I'm Phee Genoa, liberator of ancient wonders," Phee smiled warmly at them all.

"Welcome to Pabu," Shep said, "I'm the mayor here. We have a warm bed and fresh food for all of you."

"Thanks," Mox, the tallest, said softly. His arms were crossed over his chest, and Stak's hands fidgeted at his side.

"Wrecker, why don't you and Phee show them the island? I reckon they're as hungry as you."

Wrecker chuckled softly and nodded towards the ship, catching your drift. He beckoned for the kids to follow him. They seemed to trust a clone more than other humans, but that was understandable.

"Have you boys ever heard of Skara Nol?" you heard Phee asking them.

"What's that?" Deke asked.

"It's a big mountain, filled with lots of puzzles!" Wrecker said, waving his arms to demonstrate.

At that point, you'd stepped aboard. The warmth of the sun dissipated as you were enveloped in the Marauder's dim lighting. Hunter sat at the navicomputer to your right, half asleep and blanketed by a hazy blue glow.

"Those boys aren't the only ones who could use a home-cooked meal, you know." You said, putting more weight into your steps so he wouldn't be surprised by your approach.

"I assume you've brought some, then?" He said.

You rolled your eyes and took the canteen of gumbo from your bag.

"Only when you step away from the computer. It won't do you any good to spill it all over Tech's equipment now."

Hunter sighed, and set another diagnostic to run through the files.

"We've got another lead," He said, turning away from the computer. Your heart fluttered at the note of hope in his voice.

"The Intel from the Durands was too old, the kids were all that's left of that lab, but we scraped some data from one of the data banks. We think it could tell us where Hemlock took Omega."

You handed him the spoon, and Hunter tried to eat politely, but it soon gave way to his hunger as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth without waiting to chew.

"Careful, you'll make yourself sick," You warned him, "You've been eating too many rations. I'll have to send you off with some real food this time."

Hunter looked up at you, and you used your thumb to wipe some sauce from his chin, but you couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"You could always come with us. How's your leg doing?"

The only reason you hadn't gone with Hunter and Wrecker when they set out to find Omega was because your femur was broken in the same railcar crash that took Tech. Phee had promised to look out for you and keep you from getting too bored while they scoured the galaxy. Despite your protests, you knew that in your injured state, you couldn't be much help at all.

So you made yourself useful in Pabu. You sewed clothes to replace those lost in the tsunami, you looked after children while their parents rebuilt, you made your family's old gumbo recipe for those who were too tired to cook at the end of the day.

Those like Hunter.

"What about the kids? Deke, Mox and...Stak?"

Hunter nodded, "Shep said there were some families on Pabu who could take care of them for now, he even offered to take two of them into his own house."

"Oh," You said softly, "That's kind of him."

Setting the empty canteen to the side, Hunter squeezed one of your hands as it hung at your side.

"Everything alright, cyare?"

"Oh!" After so long without him, you forgot how well he knew you.

"I just...I was hoping we could take them in, take care of them."

Hunter's eyes softened, and finally stood. "I'll admit I thought about it myself, but..."

"Not while Omega's still captured," You finished for him, dropping his hand and folding your arms.

Hunter's thumb brushed against your cheek, begging for you to look at him.

"You remember that night on Ord Mantell, right?" He asked.

You pouted, bottom lip jutting out, "We spent a lot of nights on Ord Mantell." Too many, to be precise.

"You know the one I'm talking about," He cupped your face in both hands, and you looked up at the dark circles beneath his eyes.

And you did know the night he mentioned. It was a full moon, so you could actually see the moon high above all the neons and smoke from the city. Hunter had made you a promise then and there, and you made one to him too. Nothing like marriage, but something like it.

Biting your lip, you reached up to run your thumb over his crows' feet. His eyes closed, blissfully relaxed beneath your touch. You knew how much he needed to find her. He could never forgive himself if anything happened to you, to Wrecker, or any of the cadets they'd just saved.

"I meant what I said that night," He whispered, eyes glistening as his forehead rested against yours, "We'll have our own family some day, something Kamino and the Empire won't ever be able to take from us. We just have to wait a bit longer."

You sniffled just a bit, and buried your face in his chest. You wrapped your arms around his torso, and when he wrapped his arms around you he leaned more of his body weight on you than he usually did. He felt frail, delicate even, like too much pressure in one place would snap him in half.

Hunter needed you, and you needed him.

"I'm coming with you," You whispered. He sighed with relief.

"Let's bring her home."

[impactrueno]

(thread i posted on twitter copypaste)

i think musical bj and lydia have the most interesting dynamic of the three…they go toe to toe, seem to be in perfect sync without even trying, she managed to turn his marriage threat on its head by tricking HIM back, and then a mini redemption arc? we love to see it but this also means it's hard for me to think of interesting things for them, because they already said everything that needed to be said in the musical. perfect closure too. what else is there even to tell?

thinking about this again since i've been rewatching the musical over and over. the emotional resolution and closure they had was so satisfying after offering what is probably the best (subjectively) and most balanced (objectively) dynamic of the three iterations

over at tumblr i've been talking about how cartoon bj and lydia's friendship isn't as perfect as it seems, especially in the later episodes. it's so sad to see but i'm also invested in their potential downfall and how that would go down…it's interesting to think about

but hey at least they're not movie bj and lydia lol. what….a mess of a dynamic those two have now with the sequel. it could've been handled so much better. they obviously wanted us to root for bj a little in this one, but the cool things he does amount to nothing, pretty much.

feels weird sympathizing with THIS beetleguy of all three but wow not even a reluctant "thanks i guess" or anything? idk feels like something was missing there. just one of the many things that feel like they're setting up for a third installment

thinking so hard about this because when i write them i gotta think about their motivations, feelings and why they feel that way, etc and bj saving astrid's life and exposing rory as a fraud and abuser (in an incredibly satisfying way) definitely tipped the scales in his favor.

so i'm still figuring out how lydia would feel about all that. i have this scene stuck in my head of her and astrid talking about bj. and astrid, who's really only seen him do good things, goes "…really mom?" and now i'm going "welp she's kinda got a point, lydia" NOW WHAT.

if i were in her shoes, me personally, that would've won me over or at the VERY least i would've forgiven him since he made up for the bad stuff. and i keep seeing people who feel the same way… then again, the ending does show he's still messing with her so idk. mixed feelings

trying my hardest to work with what canon gave us if you couldn't tell lol. sloppy as it was. i will try to make sense of it so i can do my stupid little comics

i guess at least she let him down easy lmao. as sarcastic her "look i'm sorry things didn't work out between us but the 600 year gap is a little much for me" line was. but he's not gonna give up that easily, is he? of course not. he's beetlejuice. he's gonna be annoying forever.

none of this would be such an issue if they had given them more screentime together to let their dynamic cook a bit and actually see how they get along 😑 hmph

anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk im done now