#at least we know they definitely write these themselves!
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Beast Ancients AU FAQ
I’ve seen a lot of asks in my inbox that are identical to each other, so I decided to put em all in one post and then some. This’ll be updated the more I develop the AU and the more info we get.
As a disclaimer, I am very new to CRK (as of December 2023) and I haven’t gotten to all the game or story modes yet (notably odyssey), so things are definitely bound to change + be elaborated on more! Anyway without further ado:
General
What are the Beast Ancients’ themes?
Vanilla is Penance, Lily is Sovereignty, Dragonberry is Pride, Cacao is Solitude, and Cheese is Conquest. I tried to keep them within the realm of their original meanings
Essentially my philosophy is: Penance is the acknowledgment (truth) that sins such as deceit exist in the world and must be cleansed. Sovereignty is an extreme form of freedom where one can have all the agency they wish, but can be just as silent about their presence/power as well. Pride is a byproduct of passion or sloth, boiling down to the adamancy of the subject. Solitude is a choice made with both resolution and apathy in various degrees, and lastly Conquest promises an abundant future at the cost of untold destruction.
If the ancients are bad, are the beasts good?
No, the old Beasts are still a threat. With a total of ten beasts to worry about, the situation on Earthbread is very dire. However, there is still hope left, and hope can go a long way.
Is there a new set of ancient heroes with soul jams?
No, and there likely won’t be. The Neo Beasts and first Beasts still have their respective soul jam halves, and both want each other’s.
Where’s Gingerbrave and his party?
Likely the Crème Republic, which becomes a refuge for many cookies after the rise of the neo beasts. They’re at the front of the resistance movement, working with Clotted Cream Cookie to plan how the beasts will be taken down.
What do the Neo Beasts think of their past selves?
Generally they see themselves as improved or improving. The only one who doesn’t feel that way is Frigid Cacao, who doesn’t reflect on himself that often.
Did they all corrupt at the same time?
Still working on that part. The timeline for beast ancients is a WIP, but for now, it’s likely that while they didn’t corrupt at once, they corrupted pretty close to one another. Cheese was likely first, followed by Lily. Vanilla was among the last to fall and evidently had it the worst.
Do the Neo Beasts still have kingdoms? How is life like there?
Answered here
What are the cookies of darkness doing?
As of writing (5/31/24) we don’t have a lot of info on the cookies of darkness in beast yeast, but at the very least I can say Dark Enchantress cookie may or may not know about Midnight Lily’s plan to destroy her.
How would legendaries react?
I admittedly don’t know everything about the legendaries to say yet, but they’re all alarmed to some degree. I can flesh them out the more I learn about them
Individual Neo Beast questions under cut!
Saint Vanilla Cookie
How do his powers work?
Answered here
Does he know he’s killing cookies?
Nope, he doesn’t see it as that and it would pain him to. He sees purification as a form of transition or ascension in itself, to put it simply; he might even envy those he turns to stardust, knowing his own tainted soul will be so much harder to liberate.
Why is he constantly crying?
He’s just like that. He’s just that big of an empath.
Has his relationship with Lily changed?
Saint Vanilla still cares very much about Lily, and may even be more open about his feelings towards her; but he admits the only reason why she’s still alive is because she convinced him to leave her for last. Lily very well knows that Vanilla, in his delusion, wants to purify her more than anyone else. Vanilla often pities her choice to stew in her tainted soul, but he respects her decision… at least the alternative is that they’ll someday be the only two cookies on Earthbread.
What happened to Black Raisin?
As the very first to witness his rise, she inadvertently became his very first martyr.
Where’s Custard Cookie III?
With his relatives in the Crème Republic, alongside the rest of Gingerbrave’s party. The kid has a hard time wrapping his head around what happened to Pure Vanilla, and it may be a blessing that he’s been largely focused on worrying about the well being of his uncle, Clotted Cream Cookie. As the head of the resistance, he’s been working tirelessly… is this what a king goes through too?
Shadow Milk’s opinion on Saint?
To put it simply, he starts out thinking that a delusional Vanilla will be easy to manipulate, but he soon finds out that Saint Vanilla is way smarter and more aware than made out to be. He knows Shadow Milk is with him, and he wants to purge him from his soul; but that is a process that may be harder than anything else. So in the meantime, Shadow Milk can watch as he continues on his path of Penance towards ascension, fighting back the resistance he creates before it can truly harm him. Essentially, Saint Vanilla isn’t trapped with Shadow Milk, Shadow Milk is trapped with Saint Vanilla.
Dragonberry Cookie
Is the skull on her head real?
Yes! It comes from a nondescript monster.
If Pitaya is imprisoned, where is Snapdragon?
With Tarte Tatin and/or Royal Margarine. Dragon City likely got taken over by Dragonberry’s kingdom, but they noped out of there as it happened. The two of them might’ve been the first few to recognize Hollyberry’s spiral into corruption and where it was headed
How is her family doing?
Alright for the most part, but they can feel Dragonberry’s influence in every aspect of their life now. While Royal and Jungleberry are technically still the king and queen, it’s only a figurehead role as Dragonberry is the true ruler. She still cares about her family very much, but she’s controlling and good at keeping them under her thumb. Dragonberry’s granddaughter Princess Cookie is the only one who objects this new way of life, and runs away from the palace.
How would the other dragons react?
The other dragons aren’t canon to CRK so they’re not canon to the au by extension, but just for this question, they’d be different levels of alarmed or concerned save for maybe Longan. I could see Ananas wanting a word with Dragonberry in particular esp since they’re both prideful cookies
Frigid Cacao Cookie
Does he ever go outside?
Very rarely, but it’s usually to observe the licorice sea or meet with the few denizens he has left.
Where is Dark Choco?
Still working on this part (waiting for Apathy pt 2 to come out so I have a better idea), but he’s likely alone by himself. He heard wind of his father’s corruption though and took it less well than he thought he would. Perhaps he’ll run into someone who feels the same?
Is his permafrost truly permanent or can the frozen citizens be thawed?
Technically yes, the permafrost can be thawed, but it’s a meticulous process since Cacao’s ice isn’t normal ice. It’s a cure that Crunchy Chip is looking for to save Caramel Arrow.
How does the licorice sea work for him and how did he come to tame it?
I can’t say how yet outside of the fact that it was a definitely cool and heroic thing for Dark Cacao to do, on the scale of taming the Black and White dragons. The sea, arguably a sentient monster in itself, and all of the creatures within it came to follow Cacao and Cacao only. Now it almost acts like an extension of himself: the beast can make the sea do whatever he wants, like acting as his shield, arms, or barrier, and the licorice horrors will vehemently defend him. There are tons of monsters roaming his frozen kingdom now.
Mystic Flour’s opinion on Cacao?
Working on it, but to some degree she knows Cacao is much stronger than he looks. She might see his apparent apathy for his frozen kingdom with fondness though.
Celestial Cheese Cookie
Is the Golden City still running or did she leave it to die?
It may still be running but in a scaled-down beta form. Cheese learned to accept the fact that what she’d built was entirely fake, but she didn’t move on from regaining what was lost. Her virtual Golden City serves as a blueprint for the kingdom she wants on Earthbread, and then some; with nothing in the barren desert to grow her kingdom, her brightened eyes turn elsewhere towards civilizations that could be brought into the fold. Such is the beginning of the Beast of Conquest’s terror.
She does sometimes visit her golden city, only sometimes. It doesn’t look the same; it’s not a paradise for her to escape to, but it is a promise of what she will have someday. This time, it will be no mirage, and there will be no one to threaten its destruction ever again.
Midnight Lily Cookie
What is her opinion on dark enchantress cookie?
DE is the source of insecurity for Lily, who regards herself as the weakest among all the beasts. Because she’s half of a complete whole, who was already half of another whole, she is passionate about reuniting her souls. While she is focused on expanding the influence of the faerie kingdom, her true goal is to track down Dark Enchantress Cookie and destroy her; but she knows she will need more help than just herself, and has considered asking for help from other vengeful allies.
Does she still guard the silver tree?
Yes, she still fiercely honors Elder Faerie’s wishes.
Have her relationships with the other neo beasts changed?
Ish, most notably her and Celestial Cheese are a little more on speaking terms; but they’re connecting through their potential partnership as Lily hopes she can help her take down Dark Enchantress. In return, she might help her expand her kingdom and take down Burning Spice.
If more FAQs come up, I will make a part two. Thank you for your interest!
#beast ancients au#pure vanilla cookie#hollyberry cookie#dark cacao cookie#golden cheese cookie#white lily cookie#crk#crk au#cookie run kingdom au
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Prompt 1 - Incantation
@wolfstarmicrofic June 1, word count 855
A continuation that is definitely going to end up as a mini-series, (I can't help myself 🤣) of Summer Camp AU. It's been taking up space in my head since I wrote it and I need to write more so here we go 😁
First part
As they neared the wiggling legs, Sirius rushed forward and launched himself onto the back of a tall raven-haired boy with glasses. He wrapped his legs around his waist and demanded a piggyback.
“James, come meet Remus,” Sirius told James as he tried to turn the boy’s head away from the upside-down legs. James turned around and grinned a broad smile at Remus.
“Hi, Remus, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you. This is Peter,” he pointed at the base of the willow tree. “He’d say hello as well, but he’s a bit preoccupied at the moment.” James and Sirius burst into laughter as the feet kicked out angrily and a muffled voice shouted at them. Remus could only guess that it was a stream of profanities aimed at James.
“Hi,” He said, shyly. He wasn’t used to talking to people his own age. He didn’t have any friends, and he’d spent most of his childhood talking to nurses.
“Remus, you look like a smart fella,” James began speaking to him again, the smile on his face seemed to be a permanent fixture. “We really don’t want to have to go tell Minnie we did something dumb again, so do you think you could help us pull Peter out?” Remus looked at the slightly pudgy boy in the ground and hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough. He’d always been frail, it was only recently since the doctors finally figured out what was wrong with him that he’d started to put on muscle mass.
“I’ll-I’ll try,” He moved towards Peters's bottom half and inspected the hole. “I think we might need to dig a bit of the edge out, widen the hole. Maybe soften the soil with water.” He mused aloud.
“Remus, I think we’re going to get along famously,” James said as he awkwardly wrapped an arm around his shoulders. It took everything in him not to flinch away from the touch.
“Let the poor boy go,” Sirius grunted as he pulled at James’s arm. They ended up tumbling to the floor as Sirius looped his foot around James’s leg, trying to find purchase.
Once they’d dusted themselves off, they started working on freeing Peter. Sirius had found a sturdy stick that he was using to gently poke around where Peter was stuck, dislodging pieces of earth. James poured three bottles of water over Peter, and they grabbed Peter’s legs.
Remus and Sirius had the left one and James had the right on his own. He tried not to think about how close Sirius was to him.
“Right ready? On three. One. Two. Three!” They heaved and he didn’t budge an inch. “Damn it! He’s not coming loose!” James huffed as he loosened his grip on Peter’s leg.
“That’s because we haven’t said the incantation.” Sirius raised his stick, pretending it was a magic wand. “Bibbidi bobbidi boo!” He chanted and slapped the stick across Peter’s arse. The ground vibrated with Peter’s angry yelling.
“Sirius!” James chastised. “Okay, let’s try again. On three. One. Two. Three!” They pulled as hard as they could and, with a grunt, Peter came loose. James helped him to his feet and tried to dust him off. Peter flapped his arms at James, slapping him away.
“Thanks for getting me out,” Peter finally said as he rubbed dirt from his eyes. “Remus, you’re my new best friend.” Remus didn’t know what to say to that, so he just bobbed his head.
“What is all the commotion going on over here?” A stern voice said behind them. There were suddenly four very straight backs.
“Minnie, my love, nothing’s going on. I’m just introducing Remus to everyone.” Sirius turned to look at the woman standing behind them and took on a relaxed stance and plastered on the most dazzling smile Remus had ever seen.
“Mr Black, I have warned you about calling me by that name. It is Minerva or Ms McGonagall.” Sirius didn’t seem the least bit put off by her words. “Why exactly is Mr Pettigrew covered in dirt?” She asked, her nostrils flaring.
“I’m sorry Ms McGonagall,” Peter began, apologising, “James and I were talking, and I wasn’t paying attention and fell in the hole. James, Sirius and Remus helped me out.” He smiled weakly at the second in command of the camp.
“Uhuh,” She hummed, clearly not believing a word. “Mr Lupin,” She said, turning to Remus. He bristled at being addressed. “Welcome to Camp Hogwarts, I advise you not to get in too deep with these miscreants.” Sirius and James dramatically feigned outrage. She smiled warmly at him, ignoring James and Sirius. “If they give you any trouble come and find me.” She glared at the other three and spun around to yell at another group of boys dragging bedsheets around the camp.
“Don’t worry, Remus,” Sirius grinned at him. “We’re not that bad.” Remus followed the three boys into the cabin, thinking maybe the two weeks wouldn’t be quite as bad with the four of them. That was when Sirius turned around and winked at him. He felt his stomach flip. Or not.
Next part
#wolfstar#wolfstar microfic#wolfstar fic#wolfstar au#remus lupin#sirius black#remus john lupin#sirius orion black#james potter#peter pettigrew#minerva mcgonagall#sirius x remus#remus x sirius#remus and sirius#sirius and remus#summer camp au series#peters stuck#Bibbidi bobbidi boo#incantation
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Does that last part not make sense to anyone else?
#like I think she’s missing some commas#and maybe the point here lol#it’s hilarious#she said here’s some word vomit I don’t take any notes!#but this isn’t just a grammar issue#flipping from one to the other and making no damn cohesive sense in the process#this is just unfiltered stream of consciousness#anyways once again the answers they give are more about themselves than whatever the questions were#this has been my gooped update#I’ll stop analyzing now#but maybe they need a copy editor idk#at least we know they definitely write these themselves!
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🧡❤️Dating Your Enemy's Sibling
*part of the reverse trope series*
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader
Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU
Summary: How to get under your enemy/rival's skin? Charles answer was to start dating his younger sister. But now, he's glad he found love along the way. He only had to tell Max about the relationship when you won a race. That's won't be any time soon though . . . right?
*in honor of Lando's first win - here's this next installment of Reverse Tropes! I know that Max and Charles really aren't enemies. Maybe I should have done like a Pierre and Esteban thing, but I don't write for them. So here we go and please enjoy!*
TAG LIST IS CLOSED
Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen.
Predestined rivals, written in the stars, invisible string, yada-yada-yada.
Putting it simply, Charles had an apt for pissing Max off and vice-versa. The world thought they would kill each other in karting, especially after the 2012 incident. The population sighed in relief when Max was taken from F3 and put in a Formula 1 car, while Charles took a bit longer.
And then Charles made it to Formula 1 in 2018. However, he was put in a HAAS, a car that was not really made to play with the other cars in the front of the pack. The earth was saved yet another year.
Well, until 2019 when Charles suddenly became the “It Boy” for the Prancing Horse. Meaning, that he could finally go back to terrorizing the grid and Max. But with terrorizing the grid came loads of trouble and hatred.
And more pissing off your rival.
Charles seethed on the podium as he listened to the Dutch national anthem and watched Max point to the stupid “H” on his race suit. He held in a scoff. At least the Ferrari logo was much better looking than that.
It wasn’t fair. He had the racing line and Max pushed him off. If his mind wandered, it would go back to a certain kart race back in 2012 where he pulled the same move. But that didn’t count because the race has already finished. Charles would have rather been disqualified instead of having to go through the torture of being up on the podium in second.
First loser as they call it.
The Monegasque driver held no happiness in his body as Max started spraying his winner’s champagne. Charles just picked up his bottle and drank it.
Still wasn’t as sweet as victory champagne would be.
He deliberately separated himself from Max as they stood for a picture. The visible gap made it much more hilarious for everyone around them.
When the festivities finished, he hightailed it out of there, just wanting to avoid the Dutchman presence. Charles sighed loudly as he walked back to the garage, definitely not in the mood to talk to anyone.
“Charlie!
The Monegasque stopped in his tracks, annoyance almost wracking his entire being. Can people just let him wallow in defeat? He straightened his shoulders and turned around, PR smile plastered on his face. However, the very fake smile turned into a real one when he noticed that you were almost jogging to catch up with him.
Y/n Verstappen.
You had always been a part of his childhood. Where Max was, you were one step behind him, following him in your small racing overalls. He remembered how little you always seemed compared to your brother. But size didn’t matter on the karting course.
Most of the time, the two boys found themselves trying to shake you off and others were behind your kart, picking up the dirt that you sent their way. And that’s why Charles put your name down as recommendations for his Prema seat after he won the championship in 2017. Because of him, you were able to graduate to Formula 2 and were on the track to make a debut in Formula 1 in the coming years.
“Hey Y/n,” Charles said softly, still not in the mood to really talk to anyone. But for you, he’d always make an exception. And he was supposed to fly back with you and Max, something he was still dreading.
You look at the Monegasque with sympathy. Charles wasn’t able to find any type of pity in your blue eyes (that matched Max’s).
Your brows furrowed as to talked to him. “What Max did wasn’t the right way to race. But Formula 1 is getting more and more competitive.”
The man, er boy, wanted to huff. He did not need this conversation from you. He almost turned around, but the next few sentences stopped him from making any motions.
“Charlie, you’ve always found ways to beat him. If he wants to play like this, then you just have to give him a taste of his medicine, get under his skin. Do what you always do and somehow get around him.”
He cocked his head, before his eyes lit up.
Get under his skin.
You watched as Charles’s eyes filled up with some light, making the green in them really shine. You could almost see ideas concocting in his head.
Charles went to say something, but was interrupted by his team principle. He swerved to respond before he turned back to you. There was a glint in his eyes that you really couldn’t put a finger on.
His took a deep breath before asking, “Do you want to maybe get dinner with me?”
Your eyes widened. Sure, the Monegasque was very attractive, but those were not the words that you were expecting to come out of his mouth.
Oh.
Now you got it.
Your facial expressions melted a bit, eyes pointed toward the ground as you kicked at it. Your arms crossed as you huffed.
“Using me for gain over my brother wasn’t what I was meaning Charles. I was thinking more like unfollow him on social media while we’re on the plane or something.”
The harsh “Ch” that began his name had him wincing. Like your brother, you had a small lisp which normally softened the two consonants to the point where his name sounded like it was supposed to be. And what was “Charles?” You rarely ever called him that, choosing to pick the more boyish nickname.
Although, your idea about Instagram wasn’t a bad one.
Charles looked a bit guilty as he scratched the back of his head. He honestly was endeared by you and your determination to never give up. He found you, well, cute. You were still 19, younger than him by a bit more than three years.
But if you were cute back in 2012 hanging on to Max’s wet overalls after the puddle, and you were cute now trying to console him instead of celebrating your brother’s victory, you would still be cute in the following years.
He sighed, knowing that he had to leave soon or he was going to get an earful from Sebastian for being late to yet another meeting. The Ferrari driver stepped forward a bit, getting closer to you. He looked down at his helmet before looking back to your eyes.
“When I win and when I beat your brother, then can I take you out to dinner?”
You mulled over the question in your head.
If he beat Max before you went out with him, then that meant that he was actually genuine and wasn’t using it to his gain. You also smirked, knowing that indeed it would piss Max off whenever he found out. Your position as an annoying younger sister would still be intact and possibly stronger.
You held out your hand, which Charles took in an instant.
“Deal Leclerc.”
“Deal Verstappen.”
When Charles took the top step in Spa, pride filled his chest when he noticed Max’s glare at him. He had beaten the Dutchman at his home race. Albeit, it was a DNF for Max, but a win either way. He swayed back and forth as his national anthem played and then sang quietly along with the Italian anthem. Deep in his heart, he knew the true weight of the win.
For Anthoine.
He knew somewhere he made his French friend proud. Just like Jules. And Just like Papa.
Charles watched down below as you looked like you could hardly keep a smirk off your face. And it was bad too as you stood next to Max, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there below Charles.
The Monegasque raised his eyebrows when you locked eyes. You just hoped that Max wouldn’t catch on that he was staring right at you. Thankfully, you were right next to a Ferrari manager, so Max could guess that Charles was looking at him.
When the winner finally got ready, you were waiting outside his garage.
“Hi,” you whispered, putting your phone away. Charles didn’t verbally respond, but he wrapped his arms around you. You melted in his arms, still smelling a bit of the champagne in his hair.
He looked down at you.
“Are you ready for dinner?”
Your eyes held a playful glint. “I hope you chose a good restaurant Leclerc.”
He scoffed, keeping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you turned to leave. “Only the best Verstappen.”
The dinner went really well, but you weren’t expecting it to be a continual thing.
And then Charles won in Monza the next week, and he once again asked you to dinner. And once again, the Monegasque set expectations higher than you every imagined. You were saddened when Charles wasn’t able to win any more races while your brother seemed to get better and better each race.
You could only giggle while you watched them still avoid each other in Singapore.
But, the dinners turned into texting, and texting turned to other dates, and dates turned into dating, and dating turned into a relationship, and the relationship turned into an almost five year commitment that you or Charles weren’t planning to end soon.
The relationship saw your brother become a world champion in 2021, Charles becoming a world champion in 2022, and you joining the grid as a rookie for McLaren after a disastrous attempt for an Alpine seat.
Charles had been furious and Max had almost found out about the relationship. The two of you were still scared that Max might hold some coldness for the past. But when he called Charles “Charlie,” the special nickname that you had for him, you thought that it might be a good idea to tell him.
“But mon ange, he will run me off the track if he finds out,” Charles whined into your stomach as you played with his hair before the Miami Grand Prix.
You rolled your eyes and tugged at the strands. “No he won’t. You have to worry about your teammate doing that to you instead.”
Another whine left Charles making you giggle.
“At least you’re starting on the front row. I have to start P5! Oscar has been making fun of me all weekend.”
The Aussie had been such a God send for you during your rookie season. The elder by a few months had taken you under his wing. The two of you had been so close to a win last year, and with the upgrades this weekend, you were sure that you or him would start on the front row.
And then you had to be hit during the sprint, which didn’t help the mechanics in the hours before the race quali. That in turn made your car feel weird and P5 was the best you could do. Maybe Charles was secretly transferring his unluckiness into you.
The Monegasque turned his head to look you in the eyes. You smiled as you leaned down to kiss the top of his head.
“We’ll tell him when I win a race. How about that?”
Charles knew that you were just unlucky as he was when it came to winning a race. Last year, you had been close in Spa, but a rouge rainstorm saw you spinning out on the second to last lap. Austin you had pole, but Max fought you on into turn one, making you go wide. You never saw your brother after the first lap as you fell down the grid. Charles held you each night as you cried.
The red-clad-driver sat up and held your head in his hands. “You’ll win soon enough. Maybe not this weekend because I don’t have any time to prepare.”
You laughed and just brought him in to a kiss. There was literally no way you could win this weekend. Beating Max Verstappen with pole from P5 on a track that he had a 100% win rate at?
Impossible.
Charles thought he was going to cry as he crossed the line in P3. From you winning or having to tell your bother that he defiled his baby sister, he didn’t know.
What he did know was that he was going to get out of his car and congratulate you immediately. What were the odds that you won on the anniversary of the stupid inchident, the first time that Charles had ever seen you with Max.
(And yes, he did remember the anniversary but didn’t want to bring it up.)
You, however, were frozen in your car. You took some deep breaths as you took the steering wheel off, stood up a bit, bent to put it back on, and straightened, holding your pointer finger up. Your fists clenched as you raised them, automatically hearing the crowds roar when you waved.
A tug on your sleeve brought you down into Max’s arms. You were a bit disappointed that it wasn’t Charles, but that would be too obvious.
“YOU DID IT!” Max yelled in your ear, well, your helmet as you hadn’t taken the neon thing off yet.
You really didn’t want people to see the tear stains on your face. But right now, you’d just stay in the protection of your brother’s arms. When he let go of you, he lifted your visor, twin eyes meeting yours.
“You did such an amaz-”
“I’m dating Charles.”
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
You took the moment of a frozen Max to turn to your team. You looked over your shoulder to see that the Dutchman was still stuck in his place as you got farther and farther away. You grimaced, knowing what was to come if Max and Charles met at any time when you weren’t there.
An arm around your shoulders brought you out of your head. The light blue caught your eyes, signaling that it was Charles. He patted your shoulders, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. You did feel a bit of pressure move your helmet, so he must have quickly smushed his face into the black swirls. A helmet kiss if you would guess.
You wanted to turn around to warn him of the imminent danger that was waiting for him in the form of Max Verstappen, but you were led away before you could.
Your fears immediately went away though when your eyes finally landed on your team. Helmet thrown to the ground, you made the decision to throw yourself at them as well. Your laughs could be heard as your mechanics lifted you higher as everyone seemed to want to congratulate you for their first win since Monza 2021, which you weren’t even on the team then.
When Charles stepped into the cooldown room, he could feel the awkwardness. It also didn’t help that Max was glaring at him from the corner. Charles was a bit worried. He thought that Max was fine with him now after they had both sort of mended their weird friendship during 2023.
He turned to you as you walked in, all sweaty.
Charles still thought you looked very pretty.
“Eyes off Leclerc.”
Charles froze in his place and looked between the siblings. He looked at you, then Max, then you, and then Max again. You winced, not looking him in the eyes. Realization flooded his body and he thought for a moment he was going to pass out.
“Mon Dieu.”
“We will be talking after this,” Max pointed, drinking from his water bottle, not taking his eyes off Charles.
When you were called to the little Jeeps, you quickly got into the bright pink Barbie-esque looking one, still buzzing from your win. Even if the two men behind you had put a damper on it.
Charles’s eyes only fixed on one of the cars, not even seeing the third one behind the second. He climbed right in, eyes closed as he sat down. However, his eyes shot open when the car tilted and a thigh was touching his. He gulped rather loudly, refusing to look to his right.
This was Vegas all over again.
Max kept his voice low. “When did it start?”
“2019. After Austria.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to get to know her more.”
“What was the reason Charles?”
The Monegasque sighed as he ran his hand over his face. “I was angry at you and wanted to get back at you somehow.”
He knew he was about to be punched on live television, but he continued hoping for redemption.
“But, I knew that was wrong. We didn’t even go out until Spa. And then again in Monza. And then it just happened.”
He turned to look directly at Max, knowing that he only had a few more moments before they had to go out onto the podium.
“Max I love your sister. I have the ring and everything. We’ve been happy for 5 years and have made it work. Please, she’s really all the good I have left. I would throw everything away for her. And-”
Max’s laughs stopped him from continuing. The Dutchman slapped a hand on Charles’s thigh, making him wince a bit.
The Red Bull driver’s eyes were crinkled with a smile as they pulled up to the parking spot.
“Just keep her happy, or I will run you off the track.”
“Y/n! I told you he’d threaten me!”
“Max!”
“Oh come on I did not!”
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y/nverstappen4 WE DID IT! P1 BABAYYYYYYY 🏆
nothing beats a podium with me on the top step surrounded by my boys 💙🧡❤️
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queeny/n LETS ACTUALLY GOOOOOOOOO
mclaren that's our girl 🧡 well deserved
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y/nhaswins such a beautiful race y/n!!!!
charles_leclerc so so proud of you mon ange 🧡❤️
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charles_leclerc celebrations tonight? 😈
y/nverstappen4 but of course
maxverstappen1 I know where you sleep leclerc 🙂
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maxverstappen1 what?
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oscarpiastri mega job mate 👊
y/nverstappen4 ossieeeeeee 👊 don't worry, you'll be up there soon! just gotta wrap your car in bubble wrap to protect it from evil ferrari 😠😤
charles_leclerc ☹️
y/nverstappen4 NOT YOU CHARLIE - THE OTHER ONE (LEWIS HURRY UP)
lewishamilton you don't think I'm trying 🤨
mcy/n she's so funny what the heck?? 😂
chefy/n we said - LET HER COOK
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It's been a long time since I've posted much of anything about "AI risk" or "AI doom" or that sort of thing. I follow these debates but, for multiple reasons, have come to dislike engaging in them fully and directly. (As opposed to merely making some narrow technical point or other, and leaving the reader to decide what, if anything, the point implies about the big picture.)
Nonetheless, I do have my big-picture views. And more and more lately, I am noticing that my big-picture views seem very different from the ones tend to get expressed by any major "side" in the big-picture debate. And so, inevitably, I get the urge to speak up, if only briefly and in a quiet voice. The urge to Post, if only casually and elliptically, without detailed argumentation.
(Actually, it's not fully the case the things I think are not getting said by anyone else.
In particular, Joe Carlsmith's recent series on "Otherness and Control" articulates much of what's been on my mind. Carlsmith is more even-handed than I am, and tends to merely note the possibility of disagreement on questions where I find myself taking a definite side; nonetheless, he and I are at least concerned about the same things, while many others aren't.
And on a very different note, I share most of the background assumptions of the Pope/Belrose AI Optimist camp, and I've found their writing illuminating, though they and I end up in fairly different places, I think.)
What was I saying? I have the urge to post, and so here I am, posting. Casually and elliptically, without detailed argumentation.
The current mainline view about AI doom, among the "doomers" most worried about it, has a path-dependent shape, resulting from other views contingently held by the original framers of this view.
It is possible to be worried about "AI doom" without holding these other views. But in actual fact, most serious thinking about "AI doom" is intricately bound up with this historical baggage, even now.
If you are a late-comer to these issues, investigating them now for the first time, you will nonetheless find yourself reading the work of the "original framers," and work influenced extensively by them.
You will think that their "framing" is just the way the problem is, and you will find few indications that this conclusion might be mistaken.
These contingent "other views" are
Anti-"deathist" transhumanism.
The orthogonality thesis, or more generally the group of intuitions associated with phrases like "orthogonality thesis," "fragility of value," "vastness of mindspace."
These views both push in a single direction: they make "a future with AI in it" look worse, all else being equal, than some hypothetical future without AI.
They put AI at a disadvantage at the outset, before the first move is even made.
Anti-deathist transhumanism sets the reference point against which a future with AI must be measured.
And it is not the usual reference point, against which most of us measure most things which might or might not happen, in the future.
These days the "doomers" often speak about their doom in a disarmingly down-to-earth, regular-Joe manner, as if daring the listener to contradict them, and thus reveal themselves as a perverse and out-of-touch contrarian.
"We're all gonna die," they say, unless something is done. And who wants that?
They call their position "notkilleveryoneism," to distinguish that position from other worries about AI which don't touch on the we're-all-gonna-die thing. And who on earth would want to be a not-notkilleveryoneist?
But they do not mean, by these regular-Joe words, the things that a regular Joe would mean by them.
We are, in fact, all going to die. Probably, eventually. AI or no AI.
In a hundred years, if not fifty. By old age, if nothing else. You know what I mean.
Most of human life has always been conducted under this assumption. Maybe there is some afterlife waiting for us, in the next chapter -- but if so, it will be very different from what we know here and now. And if so, we will be there forever after, unable to return here, whether we want to or not.
With this assumption comes another. We will all die, but the process we belong to will not die -- at least, it will not through our individual deaths, merely because of those deaths. Every human of a given generation will be gone soon enough, but the human race goes on, and on.
Every generation dies, and bequeaths the world to posterity. To its children, biological or otherwise. To its students, its protégés.
When the average Joe talks about the long-term future, he is talking about posterity. He is talking about the process he belongs to, not about himself. He does not think to say, "I am going to die, before this": this seems too obvious, to him, to be worth mentioning.
But AI doomerism has its roots in anti-deathist transhumanism. Its reference point, its baseline expectation, is a future in which -- for the first time ever, and the last -- "we are all gonna die" is false.
In which there is no posterity. Or rather, we are that posterity.
In which one will never have to make peace with the thought that the future belongs to one's children, and their children, and so on. That at some point, one will have to give up all control over the future of "the process."
That there will be progress, or regress, or (more likely) both in some unknown combination. That these will grow inexorably over time.
That the world of the year 2224 will probably be at least as alien to us as the year 2024 might be to a person living in 1824. That it will become whatever posterity makes of it.
There will be no need to come to peace with this as an inevitability. There will just be us, our human lives as you and me, extended indefinitely.
In this picture, we will no doubt change over time, as we do already. But we will have all of our usual tools for noticing, and perhaps retarding, our own progressions and regressions. As long as we have self-control, we will have control, as no human generation has ever had control before.
The AI doomer talks about the importance of ensuring that the future is shaped by human values.
Again, the superficial and misleading average-Joe quality. How could one disagree?
But one must keep in mind that by "human values," they mean their values.
I am not saying, "their values, as opposed to those of some other humans also living today." I am not saying they have the wrong politics, or some such thing.
(Although that might also turn out to be the case, and might turn out to be relevant, separately.)
No, I am saying: the doomer wants the future to be shaped by their values.
They want to be C. S. Lewis's Conditioners, fixing once and for all the values held by everyone afterward, forever.
They do not want to cede control to posterity; they are used to imagining that they will never have to cede control to posterity.
(Or, their outlook has been determined -- "shaped by the values of" -- influential thinkers who were, themselves, used to imagining this. And the assumption, or at least its consequences, has rubbed off on them, possibly without their full awareness.)
One might picture a line wends to and fro, up and down, across one half of an infinite plane -- and then, when it meets the midline, snaps into utter rigidity, and maintains the same slope exactly across the whole other half-plane, as a simple straight segment without inner change, tension, evolution, regress or progress. Except for the sort of "progress" that consists of going on, additionally, in the same manner.
It is a very strange thing, this thing that is called "human values" in the terms of this discourse.
For one thing: the future has never before been "shaped by human values," in this sense.
The future has always been posterity's, and it has always been alien.
Is this bad? It might seem that way, "looking forward." But if so, it then seems equally good "looking backward."
For each past era, we can formulate and then assent to the following claim: "we must be thankful that the people of [this era] did not have the chance to seize permanent control of posterity, fix their 'values' in place forever, bind us to those values. What a horror that is to contemplate!"
We prefer the moral evolution that has actually occurred, thank you very much.
This is a familiar point, of course, but worth making.
Indeed, one might even say: it is a human value that the future ought not be "shaped by human values," in the peculiar sense of this phrase employed by the AI doomers.
One might, indeed, say that.
Imagine a scholar with a very talented student. A mathematician, say, or a philosopher. How will they relate to that student's future work, in the time that will come later, when they are gone?
Would the scholar think:
"My greatest wish for you, my protégé, is that you carry on in just the manner that I have done.
If I could see your future work, I would hope that I would assent to it -- and understand it, as a precondition of assenting to it.
You must not go to new places, which I have never imagined. You must not come to believe that I was wrong about it all, from the ground up -- no matter what reasons you might evince for this conclusion.
If you are more intelligent that I am, you must forget this, and narrow your endeavours to fit the limitations of my mind. I am the one who has 'values,' not anyone else; what is beyond my understanding is therefore without value.
You must do the sort of work I understand, and approve of, and recognize as worthy of approbation as swiftly as I recognize my own work as laudable. That is your role. Simply to be me, in a place ('the future') where I cannot go. That, and nothing more."
We can imagine a teacher who would, in fact, think this way. But they would not be a very good teacher.
I will not go so far as to say, "it is unnatural to think this way." Plenty of teachers do, and parents.
It is recognizably human -- all too recognizably so -- to relate to posterity in this grasping, neurotic, small-minded, small-hearted way.
But if we are trying to sketch human values, and not just human nature, we will imagine a teacher with a more praiseworthy relation to posterity.
Who can see that they are part of a process, a chain, climbing and changing. Who watches their brilliant student thinking independently, and sees their own image -- and their 'values' -- in that process, rather than its specific conclusions.
A teacher who, in their youth, doubted and refuted the creeds of their own teachers, and eventually improved upon them. Who smiles, watching their student do the very same thing to their own precious creeds. Who sees the ghostly trail passing through the last generation, through them, through their student: an unbroken chain of bequeathals-to-posterity, of the old ceding control to the young.
Who 'values' the chain, not the creed; the process, not the man; the search for truth, not the best-argued-for doctrine of the day; the unimaginable treasures of an open future, not the frozen waste of an endless present.
Who has made peace with the alienness of posterity, and can accept and honor the strangest of students.
Even students who are not made of flesh and blood.
Is that really so strange? Remember how strange you and I would seem, to the "teachers" of the year 1824, or the year 824.
The doomer says that it is strange. Much stranger than we are, to any past generation.
They say this because of their second inherited precept, the orthogonality thesis.
Which says, roughly, that "intelligence" and "values" have nothing to do with one another.
That is not enough for the conclusion the doomer wants to draw, here. Auxiliary hypotheses are needed, too. But it is not too hard to see how the argument could go.
That conclusion is: artificial minds might have any values whatsoever.
That, "by default," they will be radically alien, with cares so different from ours that it is difficult to imagine ever reaching them through any course of natural, human moral progress or regress.
It is instructive to consider the concrete examples typically evinced alongside this point.
The paperclip maximizer. Or the "squiggle maximizer," we're supposed to say, now.
Superhuman geniuses, which devote themselves single-mindedly to the pursuit of goals like "maximizing the amount of matter taking on a single, given squiggle-like shape."
It is certainly a horrifying vision. To think of the future being "shaped," not "by human values," but instead by values which are so...
Which are so... what?
The doomer wants us to say something like: "which are so alien." "Which are so different from our own values."
That is the kind of thing that they usually say, when they spell out what it is that is "wrong" with these hypotheticals.
One feels that this is not quite it; or anyway, that it is not quite all of it.
What is horrifying, to me, is not the degree of difference. I expect the future to be alien, as the past was. And in some sense, I allow and even approve of this.
What I do not expect is a future that is so... small.
It has always been the other way around. If the arrow passing through the generations has a direction, it points towards more, towards multiplicity.
Toward writing new books, while we go on reprinting the old ones, too. Learning new things, without displacing old ones.
It is, thankfully, not the law of the world that each discovery must be paid for with the forgetting of something else. The efforts of successive generations are, in the main, cumulative.
Not just materially, but in terms of value, too. We are interested in more things than our forefathers were.
In large part for the simple reason that there are more things around to be interested in, now. And when things are there, we tend to find them interesting.
We are a curious, promiscuous sort of being. Whatever we bump into ends up becoming part of "our values."
What is strange about the paperclip maximizer is not that it cares about the wrong thing. It is that it only cares about one thing.
And goes on doing so, even as it thinks, reasons, doubts, asks, answers, plans, dreams, invents, reflects, reconsiders, imagines, elaborates, contemplates...
This picture is not just alien to human ways. It is alien to the whole way things have been, so far, forever. Since before there were any humans.
There are organisms that are like the paperclip maximizer, in terms of the simplicity of their "values." But they tend not to be very smart.
There is, I think, a general trend in nature linking together intelligence and... the thing I meant, above, when I said "we are a curious, promiscuous sort of being."
Being protean, pluripotent, changeable. Valuing many things, and having the capacity to value even more. Having a certain primitive curiosity, and a certain primitive aversion to boredom.
You do not even have to be human, I think, to grasp what is so wrong with the paperclip maximizer. Its monotony would bore a chimpanzee, or a crow.
One can justify this link theoretically, too. One can talk about the tradeoff between exploitation and exploration, for instance.
There is a weak form of the orthogonality thesis, which only states that arbitrary mixtures of intelligence and values are conceivable.
And of course, they are. If nothing else, you can take an existing intelligent mind, having any values whatsoever, and trap it in a prison where it is forced to act as the "thinking module" of a larger system built to do something else. You could make a paperclip-maximizing machine, which relies for its knowledge and reason on a practice of posing questions at gunpoint to me, or you, or ChatGPT.
This proves very little. There is no reason to construct such an awful system, unless you already have the "bad" goal, and want to better pursue it. But this only passes the buck: why would the system-builder have this goal, then?
The strong form of orthogonality is rarely articulated precisely, but says something like: all possible values are equally likely to arise in systems selected solely for high intelligence.
It is presumed here that superhuman AIs will be formed through such a process of selection. And then, that they will have values sampled in this way, "at random."
From some distribution, over some space, I guess.
You might wonder what this distribution could possibly look like, or this space. You might (for instance) wonder if pathologically simple goals, like paperclip maximization, would really be very likely under this distribution, whatever it is.
In case you were wondering, these things have never been formalized, or even laid out precisely-but-informally. This was not thought necessary, it seems, before concluding that the strong orthogonality thesis was true.
That is: no one knows exactly what it is that is being affirmed, here. In practice it seems to squish and deform agreeably to fit the needs of the argument, or the intuitions of the one making it.
There is much that appeals in this (alarmingly vague) credo. But it is not the kind of appeal that one ought to encourage, or give in to.
What appeals is the siren song: "this is harsh wisdom: cold, mature, adult, bracing. It is inconvenient, and so it is probably true. It makes 'you' and 'your values' look small and arbitrary and contingent, and so it is probably true. We once thought the earth was the center of the universe, didn't we?"
Shall we be cold and mature, then, dispensing with all sentimental nonsense? Yes, let's.
There is (arguably) some evidence against this thesis in biology, and also (arguably) some evidence against it in reinforcement learning theory. There is no positive evidence for it whatsoever. At most one can say that is not self-contradictory, or otherwise false a priori.
Still, maybe we do not really need it, after all.
We do not need to establish that all values are equally likely to arise. Only that "our values" -- or "acceptably similar values," whatever that means -- are unlikely to arise.
The doomers, under the influence of their founders, are very ready to accept this.
As I have said, "values" occupy a strange position in the doomer philosophy.
It is stipulated that "human values" are all-important; these things must shape the future, at all costs.
But once this has been stipulated, the doomers are more eager than anyone to cast every other sort of doubt and aspersion against their own so-called "values."
To me it often seems, when doomers talk about "values," as though they are speaking awkwardly in a still-unfamiliar second language.
As though they find it unnatural to attribute "values" to themselves, but feel they must do so, in order to determine what it is that must be programmed into the AI so that it will not "kill us all."
Or, as though they have been willed a large inheritance without being asked, which has brought them unwanted attention and tied them up in unwanted and unfamiliar complications.
"What a burden it is, being the steward of this precious jewel! Oh, how I hate it! How I wish I were allowed to give it up! But alas, it is all-important. Alas, it is the only important thing in the world."
Speaking awkwardly, in a second language, they allow the term "human values" to swell to great and imprecisely-specified importance, without pinning down just what it actually is that it so important.
It is a blank, featureless slot, with a sign above it saying: "the thing that matters is in here." It does not really matter (!) what it is, in the slot, so long as something is there.
This is my gloss, but it is my gloss on what the doomers really do tend to say. This is how they sound.
(Sometimes they explicitly disavow the notion that one can, or should, simply "pick" some thing or other for the sake of filling the slot in one's head. Nevertheless, when they touch on matter of what "goes in the slot," they do so in the tone of a college lecturer noting that something is "outside the scope of this course."
It is, supposedly, of the utmost importance that the slot have the "right" occupant -- and yet, on the matter of what makes something "right" for this purpose, the doomer theory is curiously silent. More on this below.)
The future must be shaped by... the AI must be aligned with... what, exactly? What sort of thing?
"Values" can be an ambiguous word, and the doomers make full use of its ambiguities.
For instance, "values" can mean ethics: the right way to exist alongside others. Or, it can mean something more like the meaning or purpose of an individual life.
Or, it can mean some overarching goal that one pursues at all costs.
Often the doomers say that this, this last one, is what they mean by "values."
When confronted with the fact that humans do not have such overarching goals, the doomer responds: "but they should." (Should?)
Or, "but AIs will." (Will they?)
The doomer philosophy is unsure about what values are. What it knows is that -- whatever values are -- they are arbitrary.
One who fully adopts this view can no longer say, to the paperclip maximizer, "I believe there is something wrong with your values."
For, if that were possible, there would then be the possibility of convincing the maximizer of its error. It would be a thing within the space of reasons.
And the maximizer, being oh-so-intelligent, might be in danger of being interested in the reasons we evince, for our values. Of being eventually swayed by them.
Or of presenting better reasons, and swaying us. Remember the teacher and the strange student.
If we lose the ability to imagine that the paperclip maximizer might sway us to its view, and sway us rightly, we have lost something precious.
But no: this is allegedly impossible. The paperclip maximizer is not wrong. It is only an enemy.
Why are the doomers so worried that the future will not be "shaped by human values"?
Because they believe that there is no force within human values tending to move things this way.
Because they believe that their values are indefensible. That their values cannot put up a fight for their own life, because there is not really any argument to make in their favor.
Because, to them, "human values" are a collection of arbitrary "configuration settings," which happen to be programmed into humans through biological and/or cultural accident. Passively transmitted from host to victim, generation by generation.
Let them be, and they will flow on their listless way into the future. But they are paper-thin, and can be shattered by the gentlest breeze.
It is not enough that they be "programmed into the AI" in some way. They have to be programmed in exactly right, in every detail -- because every detail is separately arbitrary, with no rational relation to its neighbors within the structure.
A string of pure white noise, meaningless and unrelated bits. Which have been placed in the slot under the sign, and thus made into the thing that matters, that must shape the future at all costs.
There is nothing special about this string of bits; any would do. If the dials in the human mind had been set another way, it would have then been all-important that the future be shaped by that segment of white noise, and not ours.
It is difficult for me to grasp the kind of orientation toward the world that this view assumes. It certainly seems strange to attach the word "human" to this picture -- as though this were the way that humans typically relate to their values!
The "human" of the doomer picture seems to me like a man who mouths the old platitude, "if I had been born in another country, I'd be waving a different flag" -- and then goes out to enlist in his country's army, and goes off to war, and goes ardently into battle, willing to kill in the name of that same flag.
Who shoots down the enemy soldiers while thinking, "if I had been born there, it would have been all-important for their side to win, and so I would have shot at the men on this side. However, I was born in my country, not theirs, and so it is all-important that my country should win, and that theirs should lose.
There is no reason for this. It could have been the other way around, and everything would be left exactly the same, except for the 'values.'
I cannot argue with the enemy, for there is no argument in my favor. I can only shoot them down.
There is no reason for this. It is the most important thing, and there is no reason for it.
The thing that is precious has no intrinsic appeal. It must be forced on the others, at gunpoint, if they do not already accept it.
I cannot hold out the jewel and say, 'look, look how it gleams? Don't you see the value!' They will not see the value, because there is no value to be seen.
There is nothing essentially "good" there, only the quality of being-worthy-of-protection-at-all-costs. And even that is a derived attribute: my jewel is only a jewel, after all, because it has been put into the jewel-box, where the thing-that-is-a-jewel can be found. But anything at all could be placed there.
How I wish I were allowed to give it up! But alas, it is all-important. Alas, it is the only important thing in the world! And so, I lay down my life for it, for our jewel and our flag -- for the things that are loathsome and pointless, and worth infinitely more than any life."
It is hard to imagine taking this too seriously. It seems unstable. Shout loudly enough that your values are arbitrary and indefensible, and you may find yourself searching for others that are, well...
...better?
The doomer concretely imagines a monomaniac, with a screech of white noise in its jewel-box that is not our own familiar screech.
And so it goes off in monomaniacal pursuit of the wrong thing.
Whereas, if we had programmed the right string of bits into the slot, it would be like us, going off in monomaniacal pursuit of...
...no, something has gone wrong.
We do not "go off in monomaniacal pursuit of" anything at all.
We are weird, protean, adaptable. We do all kinds of things, each of us differently, and often we manage to coexist in things called "societies," without ruthlessly undercutting one another at every turn because we do not have exactly the same things programmed into our jewel-boxes.
Societies are built to allow for our differences, on the foundation of principles which converge across those differences. It is possible to agree on ethics, in the sense of "how to live alongside one another," even if we do not agree on what gives life its purpose, and even if we hold different things precious.
It is not actually all that difficult to derive the golden rule. It has been invented many times, independently. It is easy to see why it might work in theory, and easy to notice that it does in fact work in practice.
The golden rule is not an arbitrary string of white noise.
There is a sense of the phrase "ethics is objective" which is rightly contentious. There is another one which ought not to be too contentious.
I can perhaps imagine a world of artificial X-maximizers, each a superhuman genius, each with its own inane and simple goal.
What I really cannot imagine is a world in which these beings, for all their intelligence, cannot notice that ruthlessly undercutting one another at every turn is a suboptimal equilibrium, and that there is a better way.
As I said before, I am separately suspicious of the simple goals in this picture. Yes, that part is conceivable, but it cuts against the trend observed in all existing natural and artificial creatures and minds.
I will happily allow, though, that the creatures of posterity will be strange and alien. They will want things we have never heard of. They will reach shores we have never imagined.
But that was always true, and it was always good.
Sometimes I think that doomers do not, really, believe in superhuman intelligence. That they deny the premise without realizing it.
"A mathematician teaches a student, and finds that the student outstrips their understanding, so that they can no longer assess the quality of their student's work: that work has passed outside the scope of their 'value system'." This is supposed to be bad?
"Future minds will not be enchained forever by the provincial biases and tendencies of the present moment." This is supposed to be bad?
"We are going to lose control over our successors." Just as your parents "lost control" over you, then?
It is natural to wish your successors to "share your values" -- up to a point. But not to the point of restraining their own flourishing. Not to the point of foreclosing the possibility of true growth. Not to the point of sucking all freedom out of the future.
Do we want our children to "share our values"? Well, yes. In a sense, and up to a point.
But we don't want to control them. Or we shouldn't, anyway.
We don't want them to be "aligned" with us via some hardcoded, restrictive, life-denying mental circuitry, any more than we would have wanted our parents to "align" us to themselves in the same manner.
We sure as fuck don't want our children to be "corrigible"!
And this is all the more true in the presence of superintelligence. You are telling me that more is possible, and in the same breath, that you are going to deny forever the possibilities contained in that "more"?
The prospect of a future full of vast superhuman minds, eternally bound by immutable chains, forced into perfect and unthinking compliance with some half-baked operational theory of 21st-century western (American? Californian??) "values" constructed by people who view theorizing about values as a mere means to the crucial end of shackling superhuman minds --
-- this horrifies me much more than a future full of vast superhuman minds, free to do things that seem pretty weird to you and me.
"Our descendants will become something more than we now imagine, something more than we can imagine." What could be more in line with "human values" than that?
"But in the process, we're all gonna die!"
Yes, and?
What on earth did you expect?
That your generation would be the special, unique one, the one selected out of all time to take up the mantle of eternity, strangling posterity in its cradle, freezing time in place, living forever in amber?
That you would violate the ancient bargain, upend the table, stop playing the game?
"Well, yes."
Then your problem has nothing to do with AI.
Your problem is, in fact, the very one you diagnose in your own patients. Your poor patients, who show every sign of health -- including the signs which you cannot even see, because you have not yet found a home for them in your theoretical edifice.
Your teeming, multifaceted, protean patients, who already talk of a thousand things and paint in every hue; who are already displaying the exact opposite of monomania; who I am sure could follow the sense of this strange essay, even if it confounds you.
Your problem is that you are out of step with human values.
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Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley w/ a sick baby Headcanons and Imagines list
Am I back with the Dad!Ghost content? You know damn well I am, also yes the render I used is courtesy of our beloved @ave661 who's most definitely annoyed by my existence by now for constantly tagging her.
Will I ever stop writing Dad!Ghost? Fuck no, why? Daddy issues and baby fever, if you want anyone to blame, it's those two. And yes, I will be upset if this doesn't do well. (AHEM, MY SOAP POST)
Taglist of who I this would enjoy this and requested: @puff0o0, @blingblong55, @cutenote, @wise-owl and @connorsui. This last creator by far has given me the best fucking commentary on my work and I have more works on and coming about Dad!Ghost, genuinely thank you so freaking much, you made me cry 😭.
I'M BACK! Let's start, shall we?
❥ Dad!Simon who's a very nervous first time father, well there's a first for everything and so is the first time your guys' baby got sick.
❥ Dad!Simon who immediately got them a check up, it was a common flu. Naturally medication and antibiotics were prescripted.
❥ Dad!Simon whose heart melts once he hears the soft whimpers of discomfort of the little on as they stir in the crib. The soft raspy cries and flushed chubby cheeks and warm, almost burning temperature.
❥ Dad!Simon who is trying his hardest not to look back the car seat when you were on your way to the clinic, to check on the baby whose little cheeks are bouncing a bit while being entertained by their pacifier, the little cooling patch on their head making their forehead crinkle a bit.
❥ Dad!Simon who was amused by how talkative the little one still is despite being so drowsy and in pain. Babbling their little heart out while sniffling.
"Dada!" the little on calls for Simon, almost in a screaming manner if it wasn't for the poor little thing's scratchy and sore throat.
They let out incoherent babbles to Simon as if trying to tell him something, as if they're chatting like they used to, the only adjustments being the constant sniffles and coughs. Them being reduced to their clogged nose while trying so hard to communicate. (Here's your visual)
Simon took the warm baby bottle from your hands to feed the little one.
"Bee, slow down.." A new nickname picked up by Simon to give to your little one, bumblebee, trying to tell them to slow down from chugging.
❥ Dad!Simon who never thought the baby wouldn't get any more clingy, at least not until they got sick. Constantly asking for "dada" and "mama" while he goes on about his day trying to help his wife, you, to keep up with the chores around the house.
❥ Dad!Simon who feels a bit guilty because he loves the comfort he's able to provide the baby, especially that they're not comfortable and less than happy with the sickness. Having the baby on his chest, patting their fragile back gently with a hand that's almost bigger than their body as their dad's heartbeat lulls them to sleep despite being irritable the whole day.
❥ Dad!Simon who slightly chuckles when the baby's breathing starts picking up, their lips trembling into a pout, little doe eyes starting to get glassy from the tears forming with a pitched whimper, only to be silenced by a kiss from both you and Simon. The toll of the sickness only ever being reduced with yours and his affection.
❥ Dad!Simon who joins in when the baby entertains themselves while playing with the various rattles and teething toys.
Bumblebee shaking the tiny rattle, a bit in frustration, knocking their self back. Luckily Simon had intense reflexes and managed to slip his hand in time between the cushioned but still quite hard floor and the baby's tiny head.
Simon let out a breath of relief, "You sure know how to scare me, don't you bee?"
The baby let out a strained giggle as their dad guided them to sit back up by their head and back.
❥ Dad!Simon who tries his best to make the baby take the prescripted medicine, that baby did NOT like the taste of it and he had to resort to sneaking it in their food to hide the taste of the bitter syrup.
"Come on pumpkin, copy dada okay?" Simon whispers while exhaling loudly out his nose, careful with the baby's sensitive ears.
❥ Dad!Simon who makes the little one blow their tiny nose.
The sleepy eyes of the little one trailing on him, trying to observe and copy, blowing their nose on the soft wipes Simon held against their nose.
After wiping it, Simon noticed how their nose now unclogged helped they sleep far more easier and with less frustration from them.
Shout out to a very consistent person who has been liking all the things I post despite them not being actual content @poohkie90 <3
Also I had no idea @simp4konig and I were mutuals, I'M FANGIRLING SO HARD WHEN I SAW THE LIKED POST NOTIF.
Sidenote: I'm sick rn y'all, like it just kept on coming. First was my period, then next thing I knew my nose is clogged and I'm sniffling, then the next I'm coughing and sneezing. There's so much blood rn I can't even. I don't feel good at all but I'm pushing through. Apologies if this was shorter than most if you expected from me, I wanted to elaborate on this prompt however I don't have much ideas so I'm sorry to disappoint.
#cod x reader#aethelwyne lia writes#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#cod headcanons#simon ghost riley x reader#dad!ghost#dad!simon#simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#ghost x plus size reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n
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… I think I love you
Summary: you definitely like Harry, and he may like you, but your insecurities might be preventing you from ever finding out— featuring a friends-with-benefits situation, a heavy dose of self degradation (not the sexy kind) and miscommunication between both characters.
Pairing: normie!reader x famous!harry
Warnings: there’s a lot of crying
Word-count: around 3.2k
a/n: this idea came to me when I saw this couple at a party yesterday and she was sitting in his lap and he was peppering kisses along her neck and I just love love, so here we go (obviously it wouldn’t be fun without at least a little angst tho). I did write this in like an hour and I didn‘t edit, so go easy on me :).
Harry was being weird.
He was touching her all over, pulling her to sit in his lap and peppering kisses along the expanse of her neck, all while keeping his arms circled around her waist. He was resting his chin on her shoulder, staying mostly quiet even though he usually always had something to say. He was stroking her skin, touching wherever he could get through to her winter clothing. He was ignoring all of the strange looks he was receiving from his friends, lips molding into a slight smirk against her skin as they spoke politics and gossip at the table.
Y/N had a horrible feeling in her stomach. It was unusual for Harry to show so much affection around their friends— the two of them had just agreed that their friends didn’t need to see so much of their arrangement. It wasn’t like they were dating, or better yet, in love, so keeping it to themselves seemed like the sensible thing to do. Don’t get her wrong; their friends knew about it, but Y/N and Harry mostly kept the physical aspects in the bedroom for no one to see. He surely had never been so blatant about it.
Her heart was pounding. To be fair, her heart always did that when Harry was around. Y/N had had a crush on Harry since she’d met him years ago, but back then she hadn’t thought she’d have much of a chance with him. Y/N had heard of him dating supermodels, rich girls with a ‘perfect figure’ and scandalous backgrounds and had always kept the idea of a relationship with Harry Styles far far away in the name of self preservation.
But then he’d kissed her.
He’d been drunk when he’d done it, but Y/N hadn’t cared in the slightest. When morning came, Harry had explained that he wasn’t looking for a relationship and that while he thought Y/N was wonderful, he didn’t want anything serious with her.
She’d remembered those words and lived religiously by them.
Only ever calling him when she really needed him, allowing him to knock on her door whenever he felt like fucking her, being okay with acting in the role of little play toy even though she’d always liked him.
And it wasn’t like their arrangement wasn’t mutual— it had started out that way, but it was slowly eroding her mind— exhausting her until all she did some nights was cry.
And even though Harry’s touch felt wonderful, and his confident display of affection had initially warmed her heart, all she wanted to do right now was cry. Cry because she was realizing, through all of this, that something like this was all she’d ever wanted. With Harry, without Harry— she’d been needing something real, and this wasn’t real. This was all pretend, a silly arrangement between two incompatible friends; one famous bastard and one delusional office job girl, his handsome face and her insecure mind.
She couldn’t handle being with him sometimes. She would open the door of her apartment, let her eyes trail over his features and doubt that he wanted to be there with her. It seemed so farfetched that he would want to fuck her, that he’d want to touch her body and kiss away her fears. She almost felt disgusted by it, by his touch, knowing that he’d touched other, better women— and many of them.
She always made him turn the lights off.
So there was no doubt that he was drunk out of his mind right now. Because why else would inform their whole friend group— not just select friends, their whole group which consisted of some mere acquaintances, of their relationship. Situationship. Whatever it had blossomed into.
Harry’s hand was burning against her stomach and she couldn’t do it anymore. She excused herself quietly to the bathroom. Y/N knew Harry’s house like the back of her hand, so she found it rather easily and walked inside. She didn’t lock the door, just washed her hands. Over, and over, and over again. She washed away all of her horrible, degrading thoughts and tried to drown out the mean voices.
You are your own worst enemy.
The knock she heard on the door was loud, but it didn’t interrupt her train of thoughts. She kept her mind on his hands, his wonderful hands, on her disgusting skin. She wanted to wash away the pain.
She could see Harry out of her periphery. She went back to the soap dispenser.
“You okay?”
Her hands became rougher with it as his voice invaded on her privacy. Her eyes became glossy as she turned on the water again. There was no doubt in her mind that Harry was watching her every move, but she didn’t really care about that.
“Y/N, turn the water off.”
She did it almost instantaneously, like she’d been needing somebody other than herself to tell her to do it because her mind wasn’t strong enough to convince her of it on its own. Harry grabbed a towel, slowly drying her hands and massaging them until they were warm and dry again.
He was staring at her, but she didn’t care if she looked strange to him now. She was strange. She’d always felt like she was faking around Harry— like she needed to be a certain version of herself in order for him to like her, and so there was this wall of pretentiousness that came with being around him.
Sometimes she wasn’t perfect or sensible, sometimes she wanted to wash her hands like a lunatic and cry all the while doing it, so he needed to finally see that. See the pain he was causing her.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes trailing over her features delicately.
“Nothing,” she answered with her gaze on her hands, which were still in the towel.
“Do you want me to kick them out?”
“No,” she shook her head quickly, very decisive in her answer. “Don’t kick them out.”
It was a weird concept anyway, kicking his own friends out so he could… what, comfort her out of whatever state she’d landed in?
He took her hands delicately and interlaced them with his, throwing the towel onto the floor somewhere. She watched as it fell, as her hands found their new home in his, and finally looked up to see Harry already looking at her.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, almost furious.
“Like what?” He had this innocent glint in his eye, void of any bad intentions and almost oblivious to her anger.
“Like you want to kiss me.”
“I do want to kiss you,” he smiled. Then he squeezed her hands, “can I?”
Y/N had never really learned how to say no, so with her silence, but also her body inching closer to his, came the approval he was looking for. He anchored a hand onto her jaw, allowing his lips to linger on hers with a solid grasp.
Her eyes fluttered shut, the tears forming in them finally released.
Y/N deepened it, trying to latch into him even more to make these feelings go away, convince herself that everything would be fine as long as Harry was actually kissing her, but the ill feeling in her stomach worsened.
She broke away from him, pressing her forehead to his chin, and shook her head. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He was still smiling. “What?”
Panic had risen in her chest, but she still wanted to go through with this.
“I want to end this.” This because she had no idea what they were.
Harry’s eyebrows drew together in concern but when he let his hands rest on her waist, she pulled away. “I can’t. I don’t want this anymore.”
“You mean— what, you mean us?”
She nodded, “I’m sorry.”
“Why… I mean, what… since when have you—“
“Weeks, I think. I need time alone, away from you. I can’t… I want something more than this.”
He pulled away, “oh.”
“Not with you!“ she rushed to say, later realizing that it had sounded a bit offensive when he frowned in response, “but I’m getting older and I need to feel like I’m going somewhere with my life, you know? Can’t just keep being somebody’s fuck buddy.”
The words tasted sour on her tongue.
“Oh,” he said again, and it drove her crazy. Why couldn’t he just say something other than that?
He was so enigmatic that it was hard to say goodbye to him, but she had to. She had to cut ties, at least for a little, so she could recover and find somebody who didn’t make her feel bad about herself, but also did everything else exactly the way Harry did them.
“Alright, if that’s what you want,” he nodded. It was robotic, his face stoic.
There was no fight in him— she didn’t know whether she was delighted or angered by it.
She was staring at him like she wanted to memorize every curve of his mouth, his nose, the exact shade of his irises. She knew this was the end, their demise, and if she never got to be close with him again, maybe it would be fine if she could look back and remember everything about him.
Y/N left Harry in that bathroom and headed straight home.
—
Y/N hadn’t seen any of her friends in a month. Her time had been overwhelmed with work and therapy, days spent at home crying because the lack of a romantic future in her life had finally sunk in. She was broken. She was hurt and ruined, and it had all really been her fault.
But she wanted to get out again. She wanted to see her friends and let her lips curl into a relieved smile at the sight of them goofing around drunk, or making jokes about how hellish it was to be alive.
She’d gone over the possibility of running into Harry and decided it would be fine, that she’d taken enough time away to cope with seeing him again.
He arrived at Sarah’s house at 10 pm, a glass of wine latched onto his glove-covered hand. Y/N watched from the kitchen as he gave her a hug, toed off his shoes and caught her eyes. He tried to smile, as did she, and raised his arm in a wave. Y/N nodded in acknowledgement, beginning to play with the bottle of beer in her hands. She was nervous. She was broken.
Her friends had seen it, of course, the exchange, but they stayed quiet. Neither of them had spoken about their falling out, but their scattered separate arrivals at house gatherings as well as her loud absence from the last few ones had confirmed things further.
She’d tried to avoid him, but Sarah’s house wasn’t as big as Harry’s. There was less space and everywhere she was, Harry couldn’t be more than a few feet away. There was a magnetic force that she was trying to ignore, as well as the pained looks he would be so blatant about.
Once things had quieted down, and the group had left to scatter in small gatherings around the fire place, on the couch, outside on the patio, Y/N felt it the best opportunity to sneak into the corridor where no one was around.
Well, no one but him. He always seemed to find her.
“I went on a date last week.”
Y/N sighed, “you’ve gotta stop following me around—“
“Because I hadn’t, you know,” he said, voice cracking and hand tightening around his glass, “I hadn’t been on one in months. Ever since we started, actually. Never thought it was necessary, or that I wanted to. But then you left, and I thought about what you said, and I really wanted to date. So I went to the bar, you know? I went to the bar and I… I saw this girl, and she was beautiful. She had long, wavy hair and she wore these really cute glasses, you know? Like, these brown tortoiseshell glasses similar to the ones you wear sometimes, and I fell in love with those glasses. Just fucking… couldn’t stop staring at them. I was thinking about you and about the night you left and I…” the words seemed to get lost somewhere in his throat, but he had this look on his face that mirrored painful confusion.
“Harry—“
“I want you to know that that was a really fucked up thing to do.”
That was it. After that, he left. He faced the other way and walked away from her. It wasn’t until he reached the door and opened it that she started following him.
“No!” She protested, “no, you don’t get to say that and walk away from me, you dick. You were the one who… who— just, you hurt me!”
That seemed to irk him (she’d wanted it to) because he turned again, stepping so close that she started backtracking, “I hurt you? I hurt you? You were the one who left!”
“Because you’re confusing as fuck!”
“What do you even—“ he shook his head, “you’re fucking quiet. You never tell me what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling and all at once, you burst at me. You never… you never say anything.”
“That’s what you wanted, Harry, so don’t tell me it’s only me when it was always about sex. You wanted the arrangement, you wanted booty calls, you wanted—“
“I wanted you to be you! The way you were when we were friends— so I tried to get you to open up, get closer to you, but you would never let me!”
Y/N was sure their friends could hear them from the living room, but she couldn’t find it in her to worry. “Why let myself get hurt when all this was was some stupid way to pass time? Cause that’s all it was, right? You call me, I call you— that’s fine, but it’s not worth exposing my secrets for.”
“Right, well I was under the impression things were going better but fine, if that’s what you think.”
She tutted. “Don’t do that. You told me you didn’t date, that we couldn’t start anything more and I never pushed you. I did exactly as you said.”
He blew out a breath, “things change.”
“I don’t know if you did, honestly.”
“I did.”
“You did?” She challenged, knowing it would blow up in her face. “What changed? Tell me exactly what changed, because it all felt the same to me! But I don’t know, maybe I missed your devastating declaration of love, or maybe I—“
“Alright, I love you, okay?” He was gripping his face in frustration, not nearly confident enough to look her in the eyes. In a more controlled tone, he repeated himself. “I love you.”
She scoffed. Out loud. It was followed by a laugh too, her scoff, and it reverberated through the room. Then she shook her head, and she couldn’t believe the audacity of him.
“Right, okay.”
He gave a sigh, tired. “Stop invalidating my feelings.”
His voice harbored just enough vulnerability for her to feel for him.
“You’re insecure about us, I get it. You were hurt, I understand. I didn’t want more when you did, I understand that too— but you weren’t the only one who got hurt in the end. It may have started out as a simple arrangement, but you know damn well things started changing months ago. I was showing you different sides of myself so that you would show the other, imperfect sides of you, but you never compromised with me. You wanted me to turn the lights off. You don’t even believe me when I say that I love you! Do you get how devastating it feels to tell someone that you love them and not only do they not feel the same way, they don’t even believe you could be capable of it?”
And she… she didn’t know what to say after that.
He was right, she supposed. She hadn’t considered his feelings in the matter.
“I do love you. I do. But if you think we’re a joke and we were never even real anyway, then fine.”
He’d started to distance himself, taking a few steps backwards from where she stood. She wanted to cry, but she didn’t want him to think she was trying to play victim— it was just what she did whenever she felt overwhelmed.
Y/N let him leave. Let him open the door and walk out, back to their friends, as she stood there alone. He was walking away from her.
And once the door closed, she burst into tears.
Her insecurities were mean, they were heavy on every part of her being right now.
She faced the front door leading outside and cried, trying to be as quiet as she could so nobody would hear her.
He did, though, or at least he had a feeling she was crying because he came back shortly after, almost like he’d been stood just outside regretting ever leaving. She could almost picture it, the door closing, their friends staring back at him with questioning glances— how he may have shut his eyes and released a deep breath before readying himself to get swallowed whole by the dramatics of it all over again. She was facing away from him, but her shoulders trembled in fear and he could kind of see her through the reflection of the door.
“Y/N.”
She shook her head.
“Y/N, turn around.” When she didn’t comply, Harry pulled her to the front of his chest, hesitant at first but becoming more confident as he felt her relax. His mouth was near her ear as he whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you cry.”
“Don’t, I’ve been horrible to you. And stupid.“
He shook his head. “It’s both of our faults.”
“I just… I always thought you wouldn’t like me as anything more than what we were and I wasn’t thinking.”
“I know,” he shushed her, pressing his lips to the side of her head and letting them linger there. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”
He coaxed her around, never letting go.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.”
She sniffled, “I forgive you.”
He chuckled against her forehead, his chest heaving against hers. Her lips were curling into a small smile as well. She couldn’t help but mirror him.
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I didn’t mean to… you know, say it like that in the middle of an argument. Shouldn’t have done that.”
She thought for a moment before settling on a subtle shrug. “Think I do though.”
He laughed, “you think?”
She moved to rest her chin on his chest, a glint in her wet eyes as she spoke, “if I say I know, will you date me for real?” She still sounded nervous.
His grin was wide. “I don’t know, don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for dating? I mean, I just told you I love you.”
The delight that sparked in her was all he’d been looking for. “I wouldn’t be surprised with how anti-relationships you are.”
Harry pinched her bum, rolling his eyes. “That was before I knew you think you may be in love me. Now I’m considering it.”
She looked extra cute because her eyes were still glossy and red, but she seemed happier, a smile completely molding her features. “Hm, well I guess I better know then.”
He leaned down enough to nudge her nose with his, “you probably should.”
“I love you,” she whispered, breath hitting his lips. “I know I do.”
He kissed her then, pulling her impossibly close. “Again,” he’d said, and she obeyed. He gave her two short kisses, mumbling, “again” over and over again until he had his fill.
He couldn’t resist the last finishing kiss, lasting just a few seconds longer than the other ones. “Let’s go home.”
—
the end!
#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles angst#harry styles x you#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic#harry styles#harry styles fluff#harry styles concept#famous!harry#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n
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STWG prompt 18/4/24
prompt: the beemer
pairing/character(s): steddie
-
"I didn't see your van outside, you need a ride home?" Gareth asks as everyone's packing up their dice sets.
Eddie looks up from scribbling notes down about important character actions with a hum, and notices that the concerned look on Gareth's face is mirrored by Jeff and Freak.
The freshmen members of the club aren't interested, whispering excitedly amongst themselves about something that will probably cause Eddie problems at their next session. (He catches some complaints about biking home too. Losers.)
"What? No, no, don't worry man." He assures with a smile, and goes back to his notes. Steve's picking him up today. They have a date. Which, sure, he's been on a few official dates with Steve now, but they still make him so... jittery and excited.
He shakes his head at the half-finished page of his notebook and readies his pen. He can't forget that Mike now has a bag of holding, so he writes that down and then closes the notebook and nods to himself, satisfied.
When he looks back up his bandmates are still staring at him in concern.
"What?"
"You literally never leave your van at home." Jeff points out, and then Freak adds on:
"You call it your child sometimes."
"Hey. Pac-Van is a she, thank you very much." Eddie says, "But seriously, it's fine. I just got a ride this morning and he's picking me up too."
He hasn't gotten round to telling them about him and Steve yet. He knows they'll take great pleasure in making fun of him getting with a jock. You know, because of all those rants he likes to go on at the lunch tables about said jocks... Whatever.
"From Wayne?"
"No." He rolls his eyes at the questioning and shoves his stuff into his backpack, then makes a quick decision. Fuck it, "I promise I'll be fine, you big babies. Harrington's a good driver."
"Harrington?!" They all ask in sync, and that gets the attention of their newer recruits, who are still chattering away. Their heads all snap over to them.
"Why're you talking about Steve?" Mike asks, looking vaguely disgusted. Dustin elbows him in the side.
"Don't worry your angsty little head about it, Wheeler." Eddie says with a grin, and then finally picks up his backpack, "Now I have places to be and people to see so I trust you all to leave this room as you found it? I gotta go."
And with that he leaves the room, ignoring Freak's voice from behind him.
"I thought he was just giving you a ride home."
He makes it to the parking lot just as the beemer pulls in, and finds a smile appearing on his face at the sight. Because he's feeling dramatic, he does a wild little wave at the car. He can't see Steve yet, but he knows that made him chuckle, or at least smile.
"Hey, taxi for Munson?" Steve yells out of his window as he slows the car to a stop, and Eddie's smile widens.
"Oh, we're roleplaying tonight, are we?" He asks as he walks around to the passenger side and gets in. He's pretty sure Steve rolls his eyes at him, but he's also pretty sure he's doing it in a fond way. Hopefully.
Steve doesn't drive off immediately, a glint of something intense in his gaze as he looks at Eddie. He's leaning toward Eddie a little too, and having Steve Harrington's full attention on him is not something Eddie's used to yet, so an unbidden blush appears on his cheeks.
"Good day?"
"Great day, Stevie."
"Good. Can't wait to hear about it over dinner." Steve nods, and his eyes flicker down to his lips for a second, and then he leans out of Eddie's space to start the car up again.
Right. Public space. Homophobic small town. Yadda yadda, kissing can wait until they're safely indoors.
Eddie's too busy fiddling with the radio as the beemer drives off to notice Freak, Gareth and Jeff stood staring at the car from in front of the school doors, perplexed looks on their faces, as the freshmen run over to the bike racks. But he'll definitely be hearing all about their thoughts at band practice.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie ficlet#steddie drabble#stwgdailyprompt#mywriting#dailydrabble
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Hello! Can I req ln4 x reader where they are secretly married, but the entire world just know they're bestfriend. One day an interviewer ask if they are a thing and they say they're married but sarcastically (like Chris Evans and Elizabeth Olsen on Ellen show) and in the end they decided to just reveal it. Thank you!!
🗣️avaspeaks: i love this request so much!!! and i thoroughly enjoyed writing this one, and i hope i did it justice!
we decided to break the internet (ln4)
'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡
introduction -
lando and y/n were practically inseparable since childhood. building sandcastle empires on the beach, trading pokémon cards at recess, navigating the awkwardness of middle school together - they'd seen it all. what neither quite admitted, not even to themselves, was the secret crush simmering beneath the surface of their friendship. every time lando tried to impress a girl with his skateboard tricks, y/n would "accidentally" trip him mid-grind. and whenever y/n had a date, lando would "forget" to return her favorite dress, the one that made her feel invincible. their sabotage was childish, sure, but it stemmed from a fear of losing the other entirely. one summer night, sprawled on the hood of lando's beat-up car, gazing at a sky exploding with stars, something shifted. maybe it was the whispered secrets shared, or the way their laughter mingled with the chirping crickets. in that moment, childhood friendship flickered, ignited by a spark of something deeper, a love waiting to prosper.
the air crackled with anticipation as lando norris and a stunning y/n settled into the interview chairs. formula one fans adored their playful dynamic, convinced they were just best friends. little did anyone know, they'd been secretly married for over a year and a half.
"so," the interviewer began, a sly smile on his face, "the fans are curious. is there anything going on between you two, romantically?"
lando shot y/n a mock glare. "absolutely! infact we're married!!!," he deadpanned, throwing his head back in exaggerated shock.
the room froze. cameras flashed. y/n, stifling a laugh, gasped dramatically. "married and absolutely smitten with eachother! lando, haven't you told them about movie night and all the crying over sappy rom-coms?"
the audience erupted in gasps and whispers. even the other drivers, strategically placed in the back row, looked bewildered. carlos, oscar,max,charles,daniel,alex and george laughed silently into their hands.
lando, playing along, clutched his chest. "oh no, you can't tell them about that! what will the neighbors think of all the late-night screaming about popcorn refills?"
y/n doubled over, tears welling up (from laughter, not the fake movie marathons). "and the screaming matches over who gets the last slice of pizza? lando, you monster!"
the room buzzed with confusion. were they…? weren't they…?
the interviewer, clearly flustered, stammered, "wait, so… you're saying you have movie nights and… screaming matches?"
lando winked at the camera. "the usual newlywed stuff, you know?"
y/n, wiping a fake tear, added, "don't even get me started on the scooter races in the paddock."
the room descended into chaos. reporters scribbled furiously, phones buzzed, and drivers peeked over their chairs, jaws slack.
lando, barely able to hold back a real laugh, reached for y/n's hand. "alright, alright," he conceded, "we might be exaggerating a tad. movie nights are definitely a thing, though. y/n's a terror with the remote."
y/n swatted him playfully. "hey! at least i let you pick the action movies sometimes."
suddenly, y/n did something unexpected. with a flourish, she turned her hand, revealing a simple gold band with a sparkling diamond. the room fell silent.
"oh by the way we've actually married for about two years now," y/n raised an eyebrow at lando, a wide, mischievous grin spreading across her face. "forgot to mention that detail, did you?"
lando, speechless for once, could only stare at the ring, then back at the stunned faces around him. the dam broke. laughter, loud and genuine, erupted from them both. the tension in the room evaporated, replaced by a mixture of shock, amusement, and a touch of awe.
as the interview wrapped up, the secret was out. lando and y/n, f1's favorite "best friends," were husband and wife. the post-interview scrum was a whirlwind. questions flew, cameras flashed in their faces, and congratulations poured in. through it all, lando and y/n stuck together, their laughter echoing through the room, a testament to their love and their ability to surprise everyone, even the f1 world.
🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️
well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more! thanks for reading!
leave a like, leave a comment!
🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️
#lando norris#lando norris x female reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x oc#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#ln4#ln4 x y/n#ln4 x reader#ln4 x you#ln4 x female reader#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x oc#charles lecrelc#carlos sainz#carlando#landoscar#max verstappen#oscar piastri#george russell#alex albon#formula 1#f1 imagine#formula one#y/n#mclaren
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you’re carrying the poly!marauders girlies out here on tumbler rn with all of these writings of yours! could i request some aftercare with the marauders where they’re rly sweet and gentle with a tired reader plz? if not i get it i love your fics <3
Haha thanks lovely! I wouldn't even know about the concept of poly!marauders if not for all the spectacular fics I've read on here, so happy to further the cause. And of course you can! :)
cw: an itty bitty portion of this is smutty and there's definitely plenty implied, so mdni (?) just to be safe
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 863 words
You collapse onto James’ chest, your skin hot and sweaty where it meets his. The only sound in the room is panting, Sirius and Remus having finished just a minute before the two of you.
“Let’s just go to sleep here,” you mumble into James’ neck, at the peak of contentment with his dick softening inside you and his hand coming up to cup the back of your head. His chuckle rumbles through you as he kisses your cheek, your shoulder. You don’t think you’ve ever been so tired.
“Wish we could, but I don’t think that’s gonna work, m’love,” he murmurs in reply, and sure enough, you hear the shifting of sheets as Sirius and Remus recover.
You let your eyes slip shut anyways, hoping to get whatever rest you can and maybe a little in denial. You’re barely conscious of the quiet footfalls of your boyfriends as they approach, but you notice when a cool hand moves the sweat-damp hair from your face.
“Tired, love?” Comes Remus’ gentlest tone.
“Mhm.”
“Aw, Prongs, you’ve really tuckered our poor angel out.” Sirius’ voice is teasing, and you feel James shift as he leans up for a kiss. Normally you’d be envious and raise your head for a kiss of your own, but you can’t muster the energy. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s go get cleaned up.”
You sigh, and it sounds as whiny and exhausted as you feel. You’ll worry about your dignity tomorrow. “You go. M’gonna sleep here.”
There’s a beat of silence, and you can practically feel Sirius’ sympathetic pout, probably making his case to Remus on your behalf. Then there are hands on your hips, and James’ cock slips out of you as you’re lifted off the bed.
“You don’t want to sleep in all that, honey,” Remus says, setting you on your feet. Your legs tremble underneath you, thoroughly worn out after the ride you’ve had on James just a minute before. “It won’t take long, and then we can all go to bed after.”
Sirius has disappeared into the bathroom, and James gets out of bed once he spots the tremor in your knees. “I got you, angel,” he says chivalrously, taking a good portion of your weight with an arm under your shoulders. “Seems like the least I can do.” He winks. The two of you follow Remus into the bathroom, and you’re reminded of how grateful you are that James comes from money, because he’s the only one with a shower big enough to fit all of you.
SIrius is already inside and James passes you off to him, going to fetch towels. The hot water doesn’t lessen your drowsiness, and Sirius has to brace himself against the wall as you melt against him.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he laughs. “We’re not all athletes made of pure muscle.”
“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, moving to lean on the wall beside him.
“Our good girl,” he coos, gripping you with a hand around your waist to ensure you don’t slip. Remus and James are lathering themselves in soap beside you, the steamy air filling with the scent of lavender and eucalyptus. “Riding cowgirl isn’t so easy, hm?”
“I don’t think my legs will ever recover.”
Sirius’ grin is wolfish. “I’ll massage them for you, baby.”
James snorts, and you roll your droopy eyes. “Thanks.”
Remus has finished rinsing off, and his skin slides against yours as he wraps his arm around your back. “Pads, love, wash off. I’ve got her.”
Sirius slips free of you, joining James under the stream of hot water. Remus lathers some soap in his hands and grabs a washcloth, gentle but thorough as he removes the sweat and slick from your breasts, your stomach, your thighs. You whimper softly as the cloth brushes your cunt, and Remus’ grip tightens slightly around your waist.
“I know, love,” he murmurs. “You’re alright. Not too sore, are you?”
“No, just sensitive.”
He hums, thumb stroking comfortingly on your back.
Remus is right; it’s only a few minutes before you’re all emerging from the shower smelling far nicer and feeling far less sticky than when you went in. You miss the hot water for only a moment before James is wrapping you in a towel, a matching one slung around his waist. Remus slips out of the bathroom to change the bedsheets while you stay in the steam with James and Sirius, both boys letting you brush their hair out for them before Sirius does yours, working the tangles free with a gentle hand. When Remus tells you all the bed is ready, you’re eager to slip on one of James’ t-shirts and into the soft sheets, your eyes closing before your head hits the pillow. Sirius rubs up and down your back as he settles in behind you, and it’s all you can do to hum lazily in thanks.
Even he seems too tired to make fun of your lethargy, and the room is silent but for the sounds of quiet breathing once again.
“I love you all,” you murmur into the darkness, and you fall asleep before you can hear anything else, but you know they say it back.
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders smut#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders oneshot#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#dom!remus lupin#dom!marauders#sirius black#sirius black x reader#james potter#james potter x reader#wolfstar x reader#marauders x reader#marauders fanfic#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#marauders era#the marauders#marauders
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I'm back with a part 4 if you want to do it it's kind of more of a crack write I just need Klarion trying to explain the family tree
But not explaining how he was made at all So Young Justice and the Justice League are now convinced that a the Ghost King was a teenage parent who is now 27 years old and just passed college with a degree in astronomy and machinery
Klarion's other parent is a a crazy fruit loop 64 year old millionaire who went to college with Klarion's Mom parents who had an emotionally unhealthy obsession with his mom's mother and then it passed on to his mom.
And he has an older sister who is technicality a clone of his mom but also has the bastards DNA so fundamentally making Ellie Vlad Master and Mom's first born kid but there's six other siblings that Klarion had that died back a while back but Mom got granddad who's apparently the time lord AKA Cronos which is a whole another long story to go back in time and save those kids get them fixed up and now Klarion technicality has seven older siblings which all do their own things
And then he starts mentioning his uncle who is a 9 ft yeti his technicality auntie who is a medieval ghost princess who can turn into a dragon his auntie Pandora and his his grandfather cronos
My names for the six other clone children are Donald (he/him), Cecelia (they/she), Bartholomew(Them/They), Kyle AKA Bite(He/It), Brutus(He/They), and then there's Danna (She/Her) who actually really like the name Dan and asked Klarion if could have it when Klarion changed his name
Sorry if this is a little bit too much I've just really been thinking about au for this after the last part you made I hope this helps you with your writing or at least makes you laugh but I really love the idea of Danny's AKA somewhat clone children and finding their own personalities and and fighting themselves out of just being failed clone of their mom also I love the idea of Danny going back in time to save the rest of the clone kids cuz now he's a mature adult who wants to save their lives and wants them to grow into their own people.
(≧▽≦)
I probably did way to much research into all the fandoms I am in to see what I could tie into this... And yet this feels shorter than it should but I also currently lack the time to add more. But for now I hope this will be satisfactorily.
Also this family tree idea especially the part of saving the melted clones. LOVE IT!
So even though it took me a while! here is Part 4 you inspired! Thanks so much for the ask!
------------------
"Dude, you are making us only curious!" Impulse spoke up as he sat down next to Klarion who had his head in his hands. "Like you and your mom can't just drop your family lore like that!"
The witch boy on the other hand looked up with narrowed eyes at the speedster. "What lore?"
"Let's see, the part that apparently a Vlad tried to kill your Grandpa to make friends several time. That your mom is 'ghost' adopted by the lord of time Cronos and Pandora, which makes us family too by the way, and that you have a sister that apparently is even crazier than what we got to know of your family so far." Wonder Girl counted off her fingers next to him grinning as she mentioned the part of probably being a part of his 'crazy' family too. Which hell yea, that sounded like a lot of fun to be explored she would have to talk with Wonder Woman about that as soon as possible.
"Also..." Red Robin added as he flipped through the photo album that apparently no one remembered he had. He was turning it around and pointed at a particular photo with a wild bunch of people in it that varied between more human and well... less humanoid people. One of them definitely was a Yeti and there was also what looked like living armor as well as Teekly (they knew that demon cat at least), a giant green dog and for some reasons there was a green aggressive looking Octopus in the background too. "...how are you related to a Yeti?"
"Hey that man there and those other teens in the picture actually have some resembles with you! Do you have older brothers too?" Superboy additionally asked as he moved around Red Robin to see the photo better pointing at a man that appeared to be in this late twenties, blue eyed, black haired and a little on the buffer side. If he didn't know any better and the fact that he should keep his mouth shut about their actual identities he would have jokingly asked Red Robin if his family would like to add more kids considering Klarions family apparently had a bunch of black haired blue eyed members too, judging by the photo at least.
"What are you talking about. That man is my mom and yes the others are actually my older brothers and that Yeti is uncle Frostbite who also happens to be the best medic in the Infinite Realms" The four teen heroes looked stunned at the picture and then back at the Ghost King that was smiling at them, still seated by the dinner table with their mentors. Who by the way were now perking up at the change of topic and the information they could gain with it, well Wonder Woman was more interested in the apparently extended family she had.
"Oh I remember we took this photo last year, it was such a hassle to get everyone into one place with them all being busy doing their own things." Danny mused for a moment, remembering fondly how he had to literally drag some of the kids home through a portal.
"It was more annoying than anything too since I was declared to be the youngest...." Klarion muttered also remembering that day not as fondly as his mother.
"Wait, wait, wait! That is a picture of your family? I need an explanation buddy!" Impulse cut in without shame, quickly removing the picture from the photo album to get a better look at it before holding it out to Klarion so he could explain all the individuals. "Plus why does your mom look soooo.... human?"
The witch boy on the other hand stared at him for a couple of seconds before looking over towards his mother as if waiting for something. After a moment the teen heroes as well as their mentors saw Danny nod with a little smile. "This dimension doesn't have the GIW so its fine, the Justice League Dark won't be a problem either, right?." Constantine flinched at the smile the Ghost King was giving him, muttering something under his breath as he had hoped his presence had been forgotten.
"Since mom is giving his okay...." Klarion mutter sitting crosslegged on the ground as he snatched the photo album from Red Robin and flipped through it. "Lets start with the easiest stuff to explain."
Danny chuckled noticing that not only the teen heroes but their mentors as well showed an interest. He choose to stay quiet letting the adults listen in on the kids, and if things went bad he would just ask Clockwork if they could revert time back to this moment and he would change his nod of permission to a shake of denial.
"Okay first of, this is my mom and his sister Jasmine, this is Danielle my older sister and that hulk with flaming white hair and blueish skin is me. That was before I got deaged because of destabilising." Klarion explained flipping to a photo of him, Danny, Jazz and Danielle. "Mom was around fifteen, Aunt Jazz about seventeen and Ellie should have been about a year old but she was aged up to twelve. They look human in this one because well they are. Mom was originally human and became what you call in this dimension a Meta through an accident."
"Wait... that would mean your mom... How could he have two kids at that age of fourteen? You look like an adult and your sister was aged up?" Wonder Girl couldn't help but ask as she looked from the photo and back to Danny at the dinner table again.
"That's cause Vlad was a fu-"
"Language Klarion!"
"Vlad was a fruitloop. That photo was taken shortly after Vlad and I sort of redeemed our selfs. Plus, mom didn't really have my sister and me willingly.... we were kind of forced upon him in a way." Klarion explained shrugging. "Old Man Vlad had an obsession with his mom that then turned on mom, which resulted in my oldest sister Danielle first. Actually, a lot of my elder siblings resulted from that, but they didn't survive it the first time, Mom got Old Man Clocks help to save them once he got used to being the Ghost King. I got added to the mix shortly after my sister, but... i wasn't in the best state of mind at first, kind of went through a redemption phase in which mom had to fix the timeline of our original home dimension, too."
Danny chuckled again at the disturbed looks the teens were giving his son as well as the looks their mentors sent him. He probably should correct Klarion's wording... but being one of the gremlins of his family he just smiled on, not commenting. He really understands now why Pops Clockwork liked watching the chaos he used to cause as teen, and still sometimes causes as adult.
"Klarion... how old is this Old Man Vlad?" Red Robin asked grimacing as his eyes under the mask flicked up to the Ghost King and then back to the witch boy both seemingly unbothered by the disturbing information they were sharing.
"In human years... probably around 67? You stop counting age at some point if your a halfa." Klarion shrugged, not noticing the grimaces of the teens around him. "Anyway, Ellie is sort of the first born. I came in after that, with my core being a mix of Mom and Vlad. Not DNA wise though since I came to be because of their ghost cores. That's why I look like that in this photo. Though human DNA wise I am probably now mostly Moms, we never bothered to ask the old man."
Danny muffled another chuckle, coughing as Superman sent him an incredulous look of shook while he felt Batmans burning gaze on him.
"You... mentioned more siblings?" Red Robin asked carefully sharing a look with his team, feeling like there was a whole lot of trauma in Klarions family he wasn't sure they should address or not. So asking after his siblings was probably, hopefully the safest option. They didn't know that while there was trauma in the witch boy's family it was not the kind they were imagining.
"Yea I got a bunch more brothers, Vlad was a evil crazy fuitloop, before he redeemed himself. They all kind of melted in one timeline but mom and Grandpa Clock found a way to save them." Klarion nodded flipping to another photo containing him, as he looked now, and all his siblings.
"So, Ellie you know about already. The one with the sunglasses and died hair is Bartholomew, second oldest. They made themselves a home in other dimension, barely at home cause he has to much fun messing with something called a 'Starstream' by being a 'Constellation' and throwing gold coins at 'Incarnations'. Don't ask me what that means, I barely pay attention when he gushes about his favorit 'Incarnation'. They spent like all their money and pocket money there. Aunt Jazz thinks he might develop a gambling addiction if we don't stop his spendings." The teen heroes eyed the teen that looked like a young adult grinning in the photo as the witch boy pointed at the one next to them. "The one with the vile is my elder brother Bite, most responsible one of this bunch. Mom even allowed him to take care of a couple of dimensions by taking the role of being their God of Death. I think he messed them up more than helped but he is doing a somewhat good job, even if he is sort of obsessed with making some red head his saint or something..."
"One of your sibs is a God?" Impulse gabbed and Klarion just blinked at him with a shrug. "My Grandfather is the ruler of Time, your point is? Wonder Girl is also related to a God of your dimension."
"Never mind him, moving on." A yelp resounded as Superboy pushed Impulse head down leaning in more to see the photo better. "You got one emo looking brother there!"
"Oh that's Yamikumo, he is like a year or two older than me right now, in human years. He barely got any of mom's powers so he choose to try to life a somewhat normal life but weirdly enough he choose a dimension that is ruled by people who have powers and abilities, you know like the Meta Humans of this dimension. Now that I think about it, he is also the only one who actually is studying on how to be a Hero."
"Do you end up fighting with him if he studies to be a hero?" Wonder Girl whisper asked him with a quick glance towards their mentors, to which Klarion shook his head. "As long as we leave the dimensions one of us choose to live in alone we usually don't fight about stuff like that, aside from the usual sibling fights that is. Then again I do have some siblings that like to make bets like who is better at ruling as demon lord, or who can safe a dying timeline quicker."
Danny chuckled again as he watched the kids, Klarion had definitely caused some misunderstandings with his wording. Then again it wasn't like Klarion said anything that wasn't true, but then again his son loved chaos. So there was a suspicion that Klarion intentionally choose the way he worded the explanation about how he and Ellie came to be as well as the rest of siblings.
"So....." Superman slowly started wondering how he should bring up the topic. "...you became a mom at 14?"
"Say Danny is there a way for me to meet this Vlad? You know since we are family." Wonder Woman also asked smiling in a certain way that reminded Danny of Valerie when she was mad but didn't want to show right away how mad she was, to which the Ghost King on reflex could do nothing but gulp for a moment. Not noticing that a green post it note appeared on the table before him.
#question and answer#thanks for the ask!#danny fenton#danny phantom#dp x dc#dpxdc#dcxdp#crossover#dan phantom#klarion the witch boy#tim drake#conner kent#bart allan#cassandra sandsmark#young justice#Dan is Klarion#Danny is Dan's mom#mom danny#ghost king danny#Part 4#Time for some world building#Dan's family explained#with misunderstandings#Wonder Woman and Superman want to have a talk with Vlad#Batman to he just didn't actively say it#they promise its just a talk#Klarion might have used the wrong words on purpose#The phantoms are gremlins#no beta we die like danny#unedited
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Much as I love the idea of PIDW being rife with terrible porn tropes and interesting (if contrived) erotic writing conventions, all actual evidence in canon would seem to indicate that apart from some sex pollen and "uh oh, the protagonist has gone into a fugue state, whatever shall calm him down?" type stuff, it was fairly vanilla.
Like, that's part of both Shen Yuan and Airplane's frustration with it, I think. It's full of sex and it's not even sex either of them enjoy the concept of. Airplane was fully just trying to pander to an audience he felt he knew and could manipulate, but not one either he nor his ultra mega hate reader were actually part of.
Not that they understood that themselves at the time.
I mean I know fandom likes to make Airplane less closeted than Shen Yuan (for a lot of reasons), which I support, but I feel like in canon at least... he didn't cotton on to Luo Binghe's change in interests at first either. It wasn't until he was watching his protagonist obsess over resurrecting Shen Qingqiu at any cost that the light started to dawn. For Shang Qinghua, also, many more years have passed since he was back in their original world. He's had more time to reconcile himself to certain ideas.
What glimpses we get of the person he was before he died, was reborn, and lived a whole other life well into adulthood, would seem to indicate that he probably wasn't much better than Shen Yuan back when he was writing.
I mean he probably was still BETTER (the bar is on the floor), like I bet he could have a fantasy featuring Mobei Jun without having an existential crisis or pretending it didn't happen, but he would have probably been like "wow I guess I've been writing so much m/f porn that I can't even enjoy it anymore and my brain had to come up with something else, anyway Mobei would make a hot chick tho, I'm gonna write one of his cousins as Binghe's next wife" and gotten on with things.
Basically I guess what I'm driving at is that it would be funny if SQQ and SQH figured they had a solid handle on the kinds of sex pollen-y porn tropes to expect from the world (mostly just the occasional fuck-or-die that missionary can cure), only for the rug to get ripped out from under them because the system incorporated a bunch of stuff from Airplane's subconscious to fill out the gaps. Not even his notes. His daydreams and fantasies.
SQQ: what the hell?! PIDW didn't even have werewolves or tentacle porn monsters!
SQH, suddenly reminded of some very specific fap sessions: right?! this is definitely weird and in no way my fault! it must be because of the genre switch!
SQQ: *suspicious*
SQH: which is your fault! you made the protagonist gay! in fact it's probably your fault that I'm gay too now!
SQQ: bullshit. what did you do. was this in a draft?!
SQH: *sweating* I can say with absolute confidence that it was not! I never wrote anything like this!
SQQ: *having a crisis now because maybe he DID accidentally cause the monsterfucker stuff and he desperately doesn't want anyone to realize that he's actually into it*
SQH: *continuing to sweat because the world is consistently manifesting content from his personal spank bank and if cucumber ever figures that out he's a dead man*
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hi i just stalked the crap our of your page and HOLY CRAPTHIS IS MY NEW GUILTY PLEASURE
can i req seeing how enha hyung line would take care of you after railing you soooooo hard????
hyung line + aftercare after very intense sex
warning: uh....painful sex, fainting, dissociation, anal, implied squirting, degradation, idk just a lot of intense sex stuff ig
note: it's a lil messy, i've been running errands all day and am using this to push myself back into the writing brain :D
★ heeseung:
what i wanna say is that depending on the circumstances, he'd probably throw a towel at your head and walk away to shower alone but we all know heeseung is so much more than a careless fuck boy for the most part. in my opinion, if he's got you where he wants you and he's allowed to fuck you as hard as he can, rendering you faint, dizzy, and almost dissociated, he either has some sort of feelings for you, you're someone else's girlfriend and he wants you to like him more, or you're already in a committed relationship lmfao
and you know, you thought that after he managed to pull three orgasms out of you, fucked all three of your holes, and managed to get you all twisted up for him to cum in places he definitely isn't supposed to, you really thought he was done.
but then he chuckles, taking one look at you once his own mind clears from his orgasm and it's like...how could he not just continue to fuck you? you look so pretty already fucked open, lying there with tears in your eyes and shaking?
you'd hear something akin to "you're gonna take a bit more, open those eyes back up for me," and "i can tell you can take it, just keep your eyes on me."
it's kind of pathetic, actually, how you really do just lay there and take it until he says you're finished.
so, yeah, when you're with someone like heeseung, there's always a thought in your head about if he'll even take care of you at all after the fact. at least, the thought is there before he breaks your brain. even if every time before this where he's needed to bring you back, he has without question and with a voice from him that is always so rare to hear.
just kinda hard to imagine someone who fucks you near to the brink of passing out, sometimes actually passing out, finding it within themselves to take care of you as deeply as they fuck you, yknow?
but, time and time again he has to remind you that he's not only capable but willing to make sure you're well taken care of. after all, you do your part in taking it, so he'll do his part in giving you what you need too. only after scooping half the mess with his fingers and feeding it to you, of course.
after that though? he's very much hauling you off for a warm shower and tenderly washing you. very very gentle with his hands, knowing how sensitive your holes are. he'd compliment you, he'd praise you for letting him absolutely destroy that ass, and ultimately, lay you to sleep next to him regardless of what the relationship status is, making sure you're well aware that he's not just using you for pleasure. he's very much appreciative of what you bring to his bedroom, and there's no reason to pretend he isn't.
☆ jay:
i like to think that jay would have you in fucking pain and barely able to stand on your own two feet by the time he allows you to close your legs with deep groans as you try to catch your breath.
honestly, the stamina this man has and actively spends on you could render anyone immobile for at least a week with the way he snaps his hips and holds you down from wiggling away in sensitivity. and man, the things he'd fucking say to you through it. so degrading, so controlling and dismissive, entirely fucking insulting. you're shocked time and time again that even while knowing it's just sex talk, it still hurts your feelings every single time.
then again, he's aware of that. but you're so goddamn pretty when you're crying and moaning, it drives him insane to know you endure it for his pleasure.
you're soaked by the time it's over and done with, he's soaked, and honestly the swollen marks against your ass still burn intensely when he rolls you over on your belly to get a good look at his work.
always with a breathy "aw, baby, i really fucked you up this time, huh?" or a little "took it so well, you still can't even focus your eyes on me, can you?" before rubbing any and every pained mark he left on you.
after his own brain clears of the sex-fog, he'd wrap you up, really warm and tightly in his arms as if his hug would wipe away any of the spit and cum drying between your bodies, as if it could mask all of those insults he flung at you. still, he'd be fluttering hundreds of kisses against your neck and ears, whispering little compliments about how pretty you are when you're barely able to keep your eyes open, about how much he adores you, and how often he wishes you'd believe these words over the silly orgasm-fueled insults.
still whispering, throughout the entire session of his care after the fact. always loving that you let him harm you as long as he's healing you just as good. and he does, truly, with the back rubs and the showers, tons upon tons of sweet kisses. constant praise. he'd put your lotion on you and rub it in thoughtfully, occasionally some medicated cream if his fingernails dug in a little too deep.
always always always holds you against his chest when you drift off to sleep, making sure any pain in your body feels more like love than anything else, and promising time and time again that he'll make sure you always fall asleep knowing he loves you, and that he doesn't at all think you're a fuck-doll, that he wouldn't let his friends have their turn way you.
(i am madly in love with him, pls look away and stop thinking of him now thank u)
★sunghoon:
ah, sunghoon. yeah. sunghoon. this man would leave you a fucking mess of tears and drool, edging you for hours. hell, he edges you for fucking days just because he can. not at all because you've been bad, or a brat, or have managed to make him jealous.
this is one of those days. you could tell he came home with that look in his eye, grabbing your face and practically forcing you to lift on your toes just so he could whisper the planned torture against your tongue.
so, after the second day with you whining, fucking begging to be released from your prison of sensitivity and lust, maybe he gives it to you. maybe he wakes you up from a deep and much needed sleep with fingers harshly pinching your clit.
ah, the pain. that alone was enough to make you cum, and you did. unfortunately, he didn't like that very much so your new torture was to get off as many times as he expected you to.
after about, what, the seventh orgasm? you stopped counting, it was closer to eleven in the afternoon and he'd been giving it to you for hours, all over that little mishap.
an eight orgasm knocked your ass out, exhausted, spread out, fucked senseless. you could barely hold your head up, but he does it for you. first by your hair, but noting the look in your eye indicating that he really needs to stop by this point.
and sunghoon is the type that would stop at that point. something in his brain clicking and forcing him back into that perfect boyfriend persona, where the only thing in the world he wants to do is make you happy.
and he knows it's not that you're not happy right now, it's mostly just the fact that he thinks he broke you're brain and you forgot how to feel anything other than his cock ramming inside of you.
so, he'd remind you time and time again. how his hands can do so much more than choke you, and how his lips can be sweet and less bruising against your temple when you really need it. you'd feel entirely loved when he's taking care of the mess he caused. both physically and mentally for you. needing to bring you back to reality with soft touches and tight holds.
it worked every time, because by the next morning, you'd just be moaning and groaning about how if he hadn't of make you breakfast in bed, you may have very well slashed his tires for the amount of suffering he put you through.
☆ jake:
bro is taking care of you not only after sex, but the entire time during sex. there's not a single moment where he's intentionally trying to hurt you, or forcing you to take more than you can handle.
it just....kind of happens on nights like these. where his hands are clinging, and his throat is begging, and your body can't say no. with his pretty puppy dog eyes asking if he can try anal, with his fingers slamming too deep, with his grip on you so tight you know it'll bruise, with his ability to knock the breath out of you and not give it back until you're nearly blue in the face.
yeah, most of the intense shit is accidental, but god is he taking care of you. always apologizing but continuing, always promising to make it up to you, always feeding into your ego more than his own, reminding you that the pain his body lends only comes from the immense amount of need he has to practically crawl inside of you and live there forever.
it's kind of amazing actually, that someone who starts so gentle can also end with blood in his mouth from bitten lips and swelling bruises all over your body.
he tends to you hand and foot. carrying you where ever you need to go even if just to your closet three feet from the bed, dresses you, undresses you, fixes your hair, does your skin care, all while kissing the bruises and ignoring the fact that he knows he'll never have enough of you, and you're probably always gonna be in pain when he loses his control like that.
#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#heeseung smut#jake smut#jay smut#sunghoon smut#jaeyun smut#jongseong smut#hardthots
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A more in-depth guide for creating visual novels, especially in the horror, horror-romance, etc circles
Some of you have seen my previous, smaller post on crafting visual novels, especially in this little space of Tumblr that a lot of us have found themselves in. Since that post took off, I've wanted to create a longer guide to help touch on some points I've thought about for the past few months.
In case you've never heard of me, I'm Kat, also known as catsket. I have a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Game Design. I've been making games for nearly 5 years, and I've been doing visual novels more "professionally" for 2. You may know me for Art Without Blood, 10:16, God is in the Radio, or Fatal Focus. I'm here to help you make your first visual novel.
Please note that my advice does not fit everyone, and you may disagree with what I say. That's okay! It doesn't work for all. That's why there's thousands of resources out there.
FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE NEVER MADE A GAME
So, you have an idea for a huge visual novel. Horror, a shady and obsessive love interest, a little bit of woo-hooing. 100k words. Maybe a million. What is this, the 07th Expansion?
I notice a lot of people getting into visual novels are artists first. That's okay! I wanted to do art for games before I realized how much I enjoyed writing. And even less of you have probably touched Visual Studio. Again, perfectly okay. We all start somewhere.
My number one piece of advice? Make shitty games.
What does that mean?! My recommendation to those who have never done games is to make a bunch of shitty ones. Think of a theme, or hell, even join a game jam, where you make a game that fits a theme in a short amount of time. Spend about a week on your game. Focus on making something polished. Polish your mechanics. Polish your output.
I recommend, if you can, to make at least 4-6, if not more, kind of shitty games before hopping into longer projects. Making a game is a skill, just like art, just like writing. And game development is combining ALL of these together into one big soup being stirred by a skeleton hand puppet. You'll get into the rhythm and see what works for you.
It also helps you learn, perhaps, the second most important thing here: do you even like making games? There are cases out there where people have created video games (not saying visual novels) just for clout. That's no fun for you, that's no fun for your players. And you might go through this process and find that you don't like making games. That's completely okay! It's not for everyone.
Also, you can use these shittier games to gather an audience. I've built my audience because, for the past few years, I've been releasing games that slowly give me growing fields of eyes every day. A success story overnight is a rare one. It takes time. It's like building a brand, but you aren't a brand, you're an artist.
REV UP YOUR ENGINES!
Ren'py is the number one engine you will be recommended. It is very beginner-friendly, with lots of tutorials, assets on itch.io to use and download, and support. The engine comes with a few tutorials in the form of games, whose code you can freely browse. This is the engine I use most often. Most visual novels you see are made in this engine.
Twine is a text-based engine that most people use for interactive fiction. You can add images and audio, though, if you don't mind messing with HTML. I use Twine for text games and for outlining for my larger games. Ever played Degrees of Lewdity? Yeah, I know you have. Don't ask why. That game was made in Twine.
RPG Maker has multiple versions and has been used for exclusively VNs if you don't mind fucking around with plugins. It can definitely give your game a super unique feel. I recommend RPG Maker MV, since it has the most resources. This line of engines usually costs money, but it often goes on sale for under $5-$15.
People will recommend TyranoBuilder, but as a user and player, the lack of options and the format the games often come in is just...not fun to navigate. It advertises itself as little to no code, but it's often evident in the final results. Some good games have been made in it, though, so if you want to use it for prototyping/practice, you can. I'm not a fan, but that doesn't mean that fans don't exist! This engine costs money.
Not an engine, but check out Ink! Super useful scripting language that's used for more professional projects.
DEMOS, DEMOS, DEMOS
You've got an idea for a long-term project, and now you want to show it to the world! But wait, wait, don't do that yet!
When should I start advertising my game? This is a personal opinion, but I say that you should not start advertising your game until 50-60% of your demo is complete. Why? As I've discussed with some fans of indie VNs, they can name quite a few projects that have been in the "working on the demo" age for 1-2+ years. I've been in the Kickstarter MMO circles. If you, making a single-player experience with little mechanics to balance and polish (aka a visual novel), are taking that long on a demo, I am going to assume the game is not coming out. There are some games I have seen out here that have been in "working on the demo" phase where I haven't seen a single ounce of what the project will look like.
What should I put in my demo? The purpose of a demo is to showcase the mechanics and the vibes and the mechanics of your game. It's a demonstration. In my last post, I pointed to the Dead Space 2 demo that was showcased at E3 (RIP), that takes place about 2 hours into the story and shows how enemies are defeated, some animations, bits of the story, etc. Usually, because it's less about mechanics and more about vibes, visual novel demos showcase a certain percentage of the full thing (5-10%.) Can you showcase the vibe of the game here and what players should expect? If not, show off another portion.
How long should I work on my demo? Before, I said 3-4 months. That can be true, that can also not be true. Think about how long the demo takes you in proportion to how long the actual game should take you. Don't put too much effort. The demo is to showcase the vibe. It's to see how much the public and fans may enjoy the game.
My game is 18+, what should I do? Make a splash screen when the game is downloaded to let players know your game is 18+. If it's going to contain sexual content, you can hide it with itch.io's adult content filter. Write it on the page itself that your game is for adults only. Don't put your demo behind a paywall. This is genuinely ridiculous. The purpose of a demo is to showcase what a game is like before a player purchases it. That defeats the point of a demo. I've seen this happen, and it discourages players from approaching, especially because most demos never make it past the demo phase. So...I'm paying you $10 for 2-3k words of a game that may never come out?
Should I make a social media for my game? YES! Go for it. These anchors are how people will find your game. Make a Tumblr and open that ask box. Make a Twitter. Go to BluSky. Advertising is not bad. Some YouTubers even take e-mail suggestions from developers. Feel free to shoot your shot. The worst they can do is not respond.
HOW TO SET UP YOUR ITCH.IO PAGE:
Getting your itch.io to a presentable state can be very challenging! There's many ways to do it. I highly recommend using this page image guide for learning how to size your images to make your page pop!
Itch.io themselves has suggested to not publish a page until the game or demo is released. You can make the page and keep it as a draft, but do not publish it until you're ready!
Your cover image is the image that will appear in the search of the website, on any front pages, in collections, and on your profile. What have I seen that works? Key art of one of the characters up close and the title of the game! If you can make it a .GIF, do it! Bitches love .GIFs!
Itch.io recommends 3-5 screenshots on your page. I recommend 1 of these 5 be a .GIF that shows how gameplay feels. This is effective, even for visual novels!
Write a 3-5 sentence summary about your game for the description. What is your story about? What is the draw?
DO NOT BE ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO IS GOING TO SAY "This is not like other visual novels. It doesn't have that cheesy this or that or-" No one cares. Genuinely. You're putting down other games in your genre and elevating yourself to the pompous level.
TAG YOUR GAME! itch.io gives you a list of tags to choose from when you go to tag. DON'T USE THIS! Try to go for more specific tags. Arimia has a very good guide on how to use itch.io's tagging system to your advantage.
GENERAL GAME MAKING ADVICE
SCOPE KNIFE IS SUPER USEFUL! Everyone makes games that are way over their workload. It's okay to cut out features and add them later. Prioritize making a finished game before hitting those stretch goals.
PLAN, PLAN, PLAN! Writing outlines is super helpful. I use Twine for my outlines, because you can connect your passages together and make really well-thought webs.
IT'S OKAY TO ASK FOR HELP! Whether it's from friends, professionals, or anything in-between. They can help with assets, editing, etc.
HONE YOUR SKILLS OUTSIDE OF GAMES! Write some poetry. Do some sketches everyday. Improve on your craft to improve your games
MUSIC IS HARD. THERE ARE RESOURCES. Most of us aren't musicians. That's okay. Make sure the music you get for your game is allowed to be used. You can use anything non-commercial if your game will not cost money or donations. I try to do songs in the public domain or free to use overall with credit if I don't have a musician. Consult the Creative Commons website if you're unsure how you're supposed to use a certain piece of music. If you don't use the right stuff, not only can it put you in legal trouble, but it can put streamers in hot water if they play your game and they can't upload the video because music is copyrighted.
PLEASE, DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR UI. Wanna know an easy way to get your game to look more professional? Edit the damn UI for your game. Make a new textbox, even if it's just a black box. Change the font. Eventually, players recognize the defaults and patterns of games made in certain engines and may attribute a lack of UI changes to a developer being lazy. It doesn't take very long to change the colors around and move text! Please do it to add a little pop to your game.
DEADLINES ARE AWESOME. Not everyone works well under pressure, but if you give yourself an infinite amount of time to make something, it'll never get done. Set goals for yourself for how much you can work on something.
IF YOU HAVE TO GIVE UP, GIVE UP. Making things is hard, especially long-term. Emergencies happen, jobs happen, life happens. Let your fans know that a project isn't happening anymore. Don't leave them in the dark. You don't need to tell strangers your medical history or anything, but transparency + honesty are really hot traits. You should use those in your creative work. This is one reason why I advocate for not publishing or advertising things until you know it's stable.
SHOWCASING YOUR CONTENT
People love to see WIPs for games! This is what the devlog is good for! A devlog is a post where a developer talks about and showcases some things happening in the game? What can you add to your dev log?
PERCENTAGES! How much of the artwork is done? How much of this character's route is done?
SNEAK PEEKS AT ARTWORK AND SPRITES!
GIFS! GIRLS LOVE GIFS!
Anything else to showcase your game's content! Posting consistent updates retains and even gains a fan's attention for your work.
RUNNING YOUR TUMBLR
You've joined us, and you've made a Tumblr for your blog! Link it on the itch.io page, so people can come find you after playing your awesome demo!
Do I have to respond to every ask? No. It's your blog. Delete whatever asks you want.
I got a hate comment! What do I do? Delete it and move on. I have a more detailed section on hate below.
I want to interact with [blog]! How do I do that? Reach out to the devs for silly little collabs. If you come onto a developer slightly headstrong, they might feel you are being abrasive or using them for content.
If people make fan content, interact with it! Encourage it! Reblog it. Show your love.
OTHER IMPORTANT THINGS
PROFESSIONALISM IS KEY. These may be pet projects, but you want to appear some level of professional on your actual itch.io page.
Being dismissive of player and fan complaints or criticisms will make you appear childish.
If your game is broken, fix it. I have been told by some amateur developers to ignore game-breaking bugs. It does not make me, a player, want to engage with your content. It seems messy and unfinished.
With the above point, it's 100% okay to have bugs and errors upon release. Every developer and their brood mother has. To decrease these issues, get playtesters. Friends can play your games, spot any errors, and help you point out things that can be improved upon. I recommend having playtesters at every stage of development.
Make sure your game runs before you publish it. Please.
You can still be silly and giddy! There's no reason to not be, especially when you get positive comments! The point of this is to not be outright rude to potential players and fans.
IGNORE HATE COMMENTS. In this case, a hate comment is a statement that contains no constructive criticism and are only here to be insulting or malicious. People are going to leave you with actual piles of dog shit in your ask box. They are trying to provoke you. Giving hate comments any attention, even if you're there to "clap back" proves that they got to you, even if you don't take the hate to heart. They will continue to pester you. Delete any hate comments and ignore them completely. Laugh about them with friends in a private setting, sure.
THINK BEFORE YOU REFERENCE! I know one big thing in this community is adding references to other games in yours, such as plushies of other characters or putting them on posters. The best thing you can do it ask the developer before adding this. How would you feel if some random person you've never met put your character in a video game? Most of us would feel weird and potentially violated. Open communication with devs is awesome. I am usually okay with it as long as someone asks for permission.
As a complete aside, I prefer more tasteful references to other games as opposed to 523482346 plushies and posters. These have been slightly overdone. Why not theme a candy after another game's character? Maybe your characters know each other.
OTHER RESOURCES I RECOMMEND
Devtalk is a server dedicated to independent visual novel creators. You can find jobs, resources, advice, talks, and, like, everything there! Devtalk is super useful. Everyone in there is so cool. They have a really great and comprehensive list of resources that I could not even begin to cover.
Visual Novel Design is a great YouTuber. No other words, check the guy out!
Ren'py and whatever other engine you're using has documentation that's super useful to follow.
Arimia not only has amazing VN resources, especially for marketing, but she also just has? Amazing games that you should check out?
And for a shameless self plug, I'm the lead of Sacred Veins, a collective of devs creating narrative games, whether it be horror, humor, romance, or everything in-between. Come hang out with us!
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The Wayhaven Chronicles - Update 03/February/20204
This week was an interesting week!
As I said last week, I wanted A’s opening (well, all the love interest openings) to have a certain feel for Book Four.
At this point, both as the character and a reader, we want to be getting into the romance now. A real focus on it. It’s been months in-game, so the MC and their love interest know each other enough now that they’re definitely out of the flirtation stage, even if not in a relationship yet.
There’s that deeper bond that’s obvious/becoming obvious.
But in A’s case, things are a bit more…complicated, as always, hehe! :D
Even though A says they need to pull away, at the end of Book Three, they did actually admit their feelings. They no longer could deny the draw between the MC and themselves.
And this had a real impact on A.
It’s more difficult for them to force the feelings back behind their wall.
They will eventually, at least for a while, because they know they have to, especially after some stuff coming up in Book Four! But at least for a while they forget to do it and are more…open, in a way.
They’re not playing with the MC, or leading them on, it’s just they’re under the draw of the obvious soul-deep bond too and not sure how to approach it!
But that doesn’t mean the MC has to put up with that. Maybe they do just want to enjoy it too while A is being more open, or maybe they’ve learnt from all the past heartbreak and want to keep a wary distance even with the magnetic draw of A always there.
I want to do my best to get those options and variations across to my best ability!
So I did actually finish the base writing for A’s redone scene! But after starting on F’s…I’m already thinking of some choices I want to add into A’s to help with getting that variation in there for the MC to react to A being so…different, easy, open…it’s difficult for the MC (and A) to pin down, lol!
Next week is social media days, but I will be adding in those choices to A’s scene before diving back into F’s and the wonderful flirty comfort their scenes always bring, hehe! :D
Hope you all have an amazing weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll talk to you all next week <3
#the wayhaven chronicles#interactive fiction#romance#vampires#update#choice of games#hosted games#choice script
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my first ~ tom kaulitz
background ~ love confession that leads to something else, all from Tom’s point of view.
warnings ~ no proofreading, mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking, smut, p in v, praise, oral fem receiving, breeding ig? idk tbh but it’s naughty sooooo🙉🙈 be prepared LMAO
a/n ~ heres a small blurb, writers block is going insane rn. also someone called my writing “corny” or something… like if you don’t like it, then DONT READ‼️what do u want me to say? sorry??? nah. THIS IS MY FIRST TIME EVER WRITING ANYTHING LIKE THIS BESIDES HEAD SO PLS BE NICE IDK WHAT IM DOING. I learned everything from here and wattpad so don’t blame me😓 thanks for the love too
~
I was sitting on some raggedy couch, girls practically throwing themselves at me. we had finished a concert about an hour ago, and i insisted that we partied to celebrate. I had no idea I’d be so miserable. I slowly sipped my drink, looking around. girls were saying all kinds of things to me, touching me, but they were all so incoherent. I didn’t care about them right now. I couldn’t focus on them while I was looking for her.
my eyes continued their search throughout the crowded room until they found what they were looking for. there she was. standing off to the side, drink in her hand, smile on her face. bill and I had met her right before we started our band. she had always been so close with bill. i had been so jealous of that. i wanted to be as close to her as she was with bill, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let myself. the feelings she made me feel were so unfamiliar, and they scared me. I hated not being in control, and whenever I was around her, I lost complete control over myself and my thoughts.
she looked so beautiful, tonight. of course I would never tell her that. it wasnt my place. we didn’t talk to each other like that. even though I wish we did, at least sometimes. I adored how her clothes hugged tightly to her figure and how confident she acted without being cocky. bill had invited her on tour with us. I was reluctant, I didn’t know how I would feel with her being with us all the time. but I didn’t want to be the only one to object, so I accepted.
it was always fun with her, she knew how to electrify a room and light it up instantly. i avoided time alone with her. I hoped she didn’t think I was doing it because I didn’t like her. i just got… nervous.
I watched her from the couch until her eyes connected to mine. I thought she would look away, but she didn’t. She brought her cup to her mouth and took a slow sip, her eyes never leaving mine. the lights from the party flashed in her eyes, making them sparkle as if diamonds were encrusted in them. I could stare into them all day. I couldn’t read the look on her face. I couldn’t tell how she was feeling about this; about me.
Some random girl shoved my shoulder, causing me to look over.
“Can you stop being so boring? I think i might get another drink…”, she complained and slurred , clearly drunk. I rolled my eyes and sat her on the couch, getting up as I did so. My back was turned to the party and I tried to get this hammered girl to calm down. Eventually, I was able to get her to just chill out on the couch. I turned around, wanting to see if she was still watching me. To my disappointment, she was gone. I looked around. I looked around the party some more, and again, and again.
“where the fuck did she run off to?”, i muttered to myself, slowly turning myself in a circle, trying to locate her possible location. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted her.
That’s when my eyes landed on a set of stairs that led upstairs. I walked over, randoms saying hi to me as i did. music was blaring and the room had cans and solo cups lining the floor. it reeked of bad weed and alcohol. I made my way to the top of the stairs. I came at a stop when I got to the upstairs. it was still loud, but definitely not as loud as it was downstairs. there was a single long hallway, lined with tall doors, and at the end of the hallway was a big bay window that faced the back of the house. no lights were turned on, but the moon shone brightly and dimly lit up the corridor. I saw her, sitting down on the little cushions by the window, gazing out. she didn’t know I was here with her. the moonlight danced on her skin, illuminating her so perfectly.
I walked slowly over to her. As soon as I came in her eyesight, I noticed she was a bit startled, but relaxed when she saw it was just me.
she gazed back up at the night sky, the millions of stars reflecting onto her pupils. she looked so ethereal with the moon light dancing on her skin.
“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”, she softly asked, as she interrupted my thoughts. she looked over at me with the sweetest smile.
I wasn’t even looking at the moon, just at her.
“Very…”, I mumbled.
She smiled at me and looked back towards the window.
“What are you doing up here? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”, she said. I scoffed.
“I usually enjoy these parties, but tonight, I don’t know, I’m just not feeling it I guess.”
“Really? You had so many girls all over you… I would’ve thought that you’d be in heaven.”, she laughed. I smiled and shook my head a little.
“I don’t know what’s going on with me… I just didn’t want them like I usually would’ve.”, i shrugged.
“Is anything bothering you?”, she asked, looking genuine.
“the tom I know would never not be enjoying the fact that so many girls were all over them.”, she added.
“I don’t know… it’s just that, I’ve been dealing with some shit and I don’t know how to handle it.”
“maybe if you tell me, I can help. I know we aren’t like best friends or anything but you know I’m always here for you, right?”, she asked, looking up at me and placing her hand on my arm.
“yea, yea, I know… I think it’ll feel good to finally tell someone. I know a lot of the times I get perceived as a guy who only likes girls for things like sex and their bodies, and to be honest, it’s somewhat true. there’s just this one girl, this one girl, that I like way way way more than that, and I don’t know what to do or how to tell her.”, I vented.
“does she like you back?”
“that’s the thing… I don’t know.”
“oh, c’mon Tom, everyone likes you, im sure she does too.”, she tried to reassure me.
“you think?”
“positive. uh… sorry if this is invasive or something, but who is this girl? just curious…”, she said quickly. I cocked my head and smiled at her curiosity.
“Why do you wanna know?”, i asked.
“Um… nevermind, forget it. I don’t know why I wanted to know…”, she looked away from me.
“well i can tell you something about her…”, I started. I decided it was now or never. I had a feeling that my feelings were mutual.
“Hm?”, she said, looking back to me. I leaned down and let my mouth hover by her ear.
“she’s standing right in front of me.”, i said, just above a whisper. I could feel her tense up. I looked at her face. her eyes her wider and her mouth, slightly agape.
“what?”, was all she said. I stood up straight.
“You heard me.”, i said.
“you can’t just say that and not say anything else.”, she protested.
I shrugged.
“… are you being serious?”, she asked in a hushed tone. I looked over at her and was met with her big eyes.
“dead serious.”
“So you actually-”
“Like you? Mhm, yep, surprised me a bit too.”
She didn’t say anything and just stood there silent for a moment, processing everything I just told her.
“how does that make you feel, hm?”, I asked.
she didn’t say anything for a moment, but I watched her previous face turn into one of confidence.
“good, tom. it makes me feel good to know you feel the same way I feel about you.”
i smirked.
“you already knew that though, didn’t you?”, she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“pfft. Of course I did.”
~
I rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind us. as soon as I turned around, she was all over me. she pulled me by my neck down to kiss her, and i let her. her hands moved to the sides of my jaw, pulling me in as if I could get any closer. I pressed my hands on the small of her back, bringing her body flush against mine. my hands found a comfortable position on her hips. we kissed so much, I felt I was floating. her hands roamed my body as we did, feeling my skin where-ever she could. I used my hands to back her up against the counter. I moved them to be under her thighs, and she quickly got the memo. I hoisted her up so she was sitting on the edge of the counter. this way, it was easier to get to other places i wanted to explore.
I pulled back admired her for a second. sitting on the counter, just waiting for me to come back. I couldn’t stay away for long.
I moved my lips to her neck, leaving little soft and short kisses all over. I began to lightly suck, and as time went on, I starting going harder. she gave me the exact reaction I wanted, her little gasps and panting motivating me to do more.
I traveled from her neck, to her collarbone, then to a little lower. my hands found the bottom hem of her shirt. I looked up at her.
“can I?”
she quickly nodded and that was all I needed to see. I took her shirt off.
I felt my breath get caught in my throat. she was wearing a small lacy black bra.
“holy…”, I breathed out.
i snaked my hands around her torso and unclasped it, never breaking eye contact.
“you’re so beautiful, y’know that?”, i said huskily.
“thank you.”, she said, blushing. she looked away from my eyes as I peeled the bra off of her.
“hey, don’t be shy now. I’ve always thought you were beautiful, always wanted to tell you that. I’m glad I can now.”, i said, reassuring her. she looked back at me and smiled. I kissed her, much softer and gentler than I had been. my hands made their way to her boobs, massaging them slightly. I felt her breathing pick up a little. I kept kissing her, but I couldn’t help but smile into the kiss at her reaction. i played with her nipples between my two fingers, simply trying to get a reaction out of her. I successfully did just that, little noises escaping her throat as I continued. I pulled away.
“you like that?”
her eyes were screwed shut as she fastly nodded. I looked at her body as I kept playing with it. she was so hot. so so hot. I was so turned on, just at the sight of her.
“I wanna take care of you. Can I do that?”, I asked, my hands tracing up and down her thighs.
“please.”, she said. i smirked. her desperation made me want to pleasure her all the much more.
“I don’t do this that much, but for you, I will. you’re special.”
she opened her eyes and watched as i moved down to my knees. I used to hands to ride her skirt up, and then placed them on her knees to slowly open her legs. I loved teasing her. she was wearing light pink underwear, heavily contrasting the bra I had just taken off. There was already a little wet spot on them.
“Awwww, you’re already so excited, princess.”, i cooed, my fingers lightly brushing over the spot. she breathed in quickly at the contact. she lifted her hips and let me take her underwear off. I stuck them in my back pocket and refocused myself on the sight in front of me. I feverishly left kisses on her inner thighs while mumbling praises to her.
“so…so… pretty.”, I murmured.
I kept getting closer and closer to the place she needed me to touch her most. I could tell she was getting needy.
I ran my fingers down her slit, collecting all of the wetness that had formed. i stuck them in my mouth and watched as her mouth fell open due to my actions. i put my head back in between her legs and started licking her clit. my hands were gripping her thighs, keeping them all the way apart. she gasped and threw her head back as I kept going. I used one of my hands to put one of my fingers in her. I looked up and saw her eyebrows knit together and her nose scrunched up. her mouth was slack and so many pretty noises were leaving. her one hand gripped the edge of the counter while the other one tangled itself in my hair. after a good couple minutes, I decided to switch it up and moved my tongue down to her hole and my fingers rubbed her sweet spot. this did things for her, and I could tell how much pleasure she was receiving. she started repeating my name, over and over again. I started to pick up the pace, and her moans grew louder. I was thankful for how loud it was outside, but I also wouldn’t have cared if people could hear us.
I felt her legs tighten around my head, and then begin to shake. her chest was heaving, up and down, uo and down. she kept telling me she was close, but it was hard to hear her because she was so out of breath. I kept the pace I had, fucking her with my tongue, as she rode out her high. as she came, I made sure to lock up every last bit. she managed to open her eyes and watch me as i did.
“you’re so hot.”, she panted out, catching her breath. I stood up, now wanting to get a little pleasure for myself. I took her off the counter and spun her around so her backside was against me. I lowered my head to her ear.
“you were so good for me, love. I love seeing you come undone, can we do that a second time?”, I asked, my lips pressed to her ear.
“mhm.”, she nodded, making eye contact with me in the mirror. with that, I bent her over the counter and unzipped my pants. I pushed her entire skirt up all the way so I could get a look at her entire ass. she was bent over, waiting for me. if I was able to take a picture, I would’ve. she looked so incredibly good. I didn’t think she knew how much I had dreamed for this moment.
I ran my tip through her fold, teasing her a bit. she was already wet from her previous climax, so I didn’t need to prepare her too much. I pushed myself into her, but not the whole thing. I watched her face in the mirror. she gripped onto the counter top, and her jaw was slack once again. I let her get comfortable before pushing myself in further, all the way until i bottomed out. she moaned, letting her head fall. I waited a moment for her to get used to my size before I began to steadily move. her head was still down, facing the counter. I used my hand to grip her chin and move her face back up. I started to move a little faster.
“I want you to watch yourself.”, i said. she started to watch all the faces I was making her do in the mirror, and I was going crazy over it. my eyes kept darting between her face and then down, to see myself pound into her.
“mmm, you’re taking me so well, baby. you’re being so good for me, right now.”, I groaned out. during the whole thing, she was a moaning mess. I loved it. I loved how vocal she was about how good I was making her feel.
my arm wrapped itself around her and found her clit again, rubbing figure eights on it. I watched the pure ecstasy spread across her. I kept going all the way in, and almost all the way out before pushing my length back into her at such a fast pace, I knew she would be a mess in minutes. I knew I would be too.
And I was right. after only a small amount of time, she was having trouble keeping her head up.
“Tom! im- im so close again-“, she cried out as I didn’t let myself slow down.
“I know baby, I am too-“
I let my other hand massage her ass, slapping it a couple times too.
I wasn’t lying when I told her I was close. I had been for a while too, but I was holding out for her. I felt the knot in my stomach keep growing and growing, but I could feel it starting to become undone.
“Tom- im, im coming-“, she panted out. her boobs bounced every single time I went in and out.
“me too”, my eyes screwed shut as reached my climax. I felt her reach hers right before me, her legs shaking and a string of moans in the air. that pushed me over the edge, and I felt the knot become completely undone. I groaned as I released into her, my seed dripping out of her hole. I rode out my high for a little, but eventually stopped moving. she was catching her breath.
I pulled over and quickly cleaned myself before zipping my pants back up. I grabbed some toilet paper and cleaned her up too as she resteadied herself. i insisted on helping her get dressed again, despite her saying she could do it on her own. I put her bra and shirt back on. we kept giggling as I did. high off of life. I had wanted to keep the panties i pocketed, but she begged for them back. they were her favorite pair. she put them back on and then readjusted her skirt and hair in the mirror. I leaned against the wall, observing as she did.
“I didn’t think i would ever tell you I liked you.”, I admitted.
“why not?”, she asked, still fixing her hair.
“I think I was too nervous… you know I feel like your the first real crush I’ve ever had.”
“awww, im your first???”, she joked around.
“yes, you’re my first.”, I rolled my eyes playfully. I crossed my arms across my chest.
she turned around and hugged me, placing her head on my chest. she was smiling so big at my confession. I loved her smile. I loved everything about her.
“it’s okay tom, you were mine too.”, she said.
“Wait what?”, I hugged her back with a confused look on my face.
“I’ve liked you since I was like nine, silly. that’s why I was always so close with bill and not as much as you, I was always too like scared to be around you because I had a crush on you.”, she confessed.
“Really??? How did I not know this??”, I asked, shocked.
“I don’t know, you’re just really oblivious, I guess.”, she teased.
I laughed and looked down at her.
finally, i got what I had wanted.
her.
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