#I'm not the employee to step on anymore!!

[account-name]

Five headcannons you have about Phone Guy ?

yayyyyy thank you so much for the ask this is the first time i've been asked about him !!! this ended up a bit long because i wanted to fit in all my important phone guy lore because i've never gotten the opportunity to talk about him

i apologize if this is a bit all over the place and hard to read i'm not good at putting my thoughts into words

also i might reblog with more if i think of anything big i missed

he drinks way too much coffee. he needs to stay awake and alert all the time so he can continue to be productive despite his inconsistent sleep schedule (he gets nightmares which get more and more frequent over time) (and he is also being overworked which is not a good combo) (he doesn't remember the last time he's had a day off) so he uses the caffeine as a way to make up for that. plus he also just genuinely likes how coffee tastes. he also used to smoke but he stopped when his ex wife (marilyn) was pregnant with fritz, so he at least got over that one (if i didn't mention it yet he is fritz's dad btw). caffeine is the only addiction that he still actively struggles with by the time he dies.

he has a confusing relationship with his gender. i think in the normal fnaf timeline he unfortunately dies an egg and never gets the chance to think about it fully but in any au where he lives past that and learns that being trans is a thing he would proceed to have a gender crisis. (fun fact in the au i made specifically for selfshipping daydream lore he is working that out in real time) (i am supporting him every step of the way :) ) he is questioning and he has no idea how he identifies at the moment but that guy is not a man. he does still have a trans pin in the normal fnaf timeline but he doesn't actually know what it means. he found it while cleaning the ballpit one day and decided to keep it because it was kinda neat. he IS trans but he doesn't know it yet. i generally still refer to him with he/him since those are the only pronouns he ever used but depending on the au i think eventually he might experiment with other pronouns in the future. change is scary though so it would definitely take him awhile to get to that point. especially since he's been repressing his emotions for so long.

i've touched on this one before but he was working the day his son was murdered. he brought fritz to work with him thinking he could multitask but phone got caught up with work and wasn't paying enough attention to notice fritz getting lured to the back room. he didn't notice his son was missing until it was too late. he absolutely blames himself for it and it eats him up inside. he goes through a messy divorce shortly after since marilyn blames him too. poor phone guy has no one left except his bosses. at least they always cared about him right? they saw his potential when no one else did and he was their best employee. except no they didn't. william was actively manipulating him to do his bidding and henry just didn't care about him at all. poor phone guy. but he still puts on a happy face and pretends everything is fine until he can't anymore. he also blames himself for the other missing children because he was too far in denial and desperately wanted to believe that it wasn't what it looked like so he didn't do anything to stop it when other kids started disappearing. he knew what was happening he just couldn't bring himself to accept it. and then it was too late. he hates himself for that.

he's helped william hide bodies. not the missing children obviously, but whenever other employees happen to know a little too much and they turn up dead in the morning, someone's gotta clean it up. he's had to sweep so much under the rug. it's horrible but phone guy can't say anything or else it will all get pinned on him. phone guy getting framed for murder wouldn't help the situation much either. maybe it was the cowards way out to give in to the blackmail but he was put in a horrible situation and made the choice he had to to get out of it. he helped dispose bodies of his coworkers. it doesn't help that he trusted william and looked up to him for so long. he was one of the only people to ever say he was proud of him. and look where he ended up.

i can't decide on another singular hc to write an entire paragraph on so here's a bunch of small ones instead:

he dabbled in theatre in highschool. he wasn't a dedicated theatre kid or anything and definitely didn't continue after graduating but he did good

he has a beautiful singing voice. he'll get embarrassed if you overhear him though

he witnessed both bites, and sees 87 as his own fault since jeremy was following the instructions phone gave him

he's a breakfast enjoyer :)

he was born in 1957 and died at the age of 36 . fritz was conceived when he was 21

similar to his gender, his sexuality is also a mystery. he's probably ace but as for romantic orientation who knows

he likes to read. it's one of the only hobbies he has time for

he likes sci-fi and is a fan of star trek

he idly hums while he works

when he was a kid his parents had very high expectations for him and expected him to do something big with his life. they weren't bad parents but they weren't the best either. they were very strict with him especially when it came to school. (gifted kid burnout weeeoo)

he has a little sister (phone dude's mom) however he doesn't really have any contact with her or anyone else in his family at the time of fnaf as they moved away from utah and he did not follow them.

i love all the phone biology hcs mentioned in @ask-the-phone (sorry if you didn't want to be tagged lmk i can remove it) so those apply to my phone guy as well. (he molts periodically, his mouth is on the receiver, esophagus cord, ect.)

gives the best hugs

touch starved and very easily flattered

//⚠️cw attempted suicide for the next couple //

this is a dark one but he went into fnaf one knowing full well he was going die, and to an extent hoping for it. this is when he was at his absolute lowest. he was never going to get through that week. i think if for whatever reason the animatronics didn't kill him he would've finished the job himself. he's scared of death but he couldn't imagine a future for himself and didn't think he even deserved one. fnaf 1 was an act of suicide. despite this he still tries to leave helpful reassuring messages for mike to help him survive the week, even up until his last moments.

he tried to take his own life after the bite of 87. maybe also after the divorce too. it didn't work and he just had to go back to work afterward and pretend he was okay. he was not.

[ok back to the other hcs]

fritz always used to put stickers on phone's face. he continues to wear the stickers to remember him

while his head is phone shaped it's entirely biological. it's essentially like a bug exoskeleton. he was born like that and it's not questioned because that's a completely normal way for people to look. sometimes people are just phones

his head is also functional as a phone though. don't ask me how

he purrs when he's comfy. the sound is like a combination of purring and soft ringing.

in the movie universe he is alive and well and living a life outside of freddy's. he worked there briefly and recorded some tapes and then left before it all went wrong. i guess in this au his bosses never really saw him as anything special this time. his son still dies and he probably still gets divorced but phone is able to move on and heal and live his own life. good for him.

i think if phone guy didn't work at freddy's he would've made a good teacher

he is so full of autism

very much a perfectionist unfortunately

not easily angered, but he can get frustrated at times. he bottles it up though so he seems fine until he finally snaps

and that's the list i came up with so far :) i might add more if i think of anything important i forgot but thank you so much for giving me an opportunity to finally talk about my phone guy !!! :)

[hedonists-den]

I stroll through the grocery store, cart loaded with assorted junk food. And not one of those half carts either. A full-sized cart full of fresh baked pastries, boxes of snack cakes, frozen pizzas, massive sub sandwiches, bags of chips and candy, various pints of ice cream, cases of full-sugar soda, just an obscene amount of unhealthy garbage.

By now, the employees know me by name with how often I'm there to indulge your cravings. I bring my haul over to a checkout aisle and start unloading, but I figure one more candy bar wouldn't hurt, and I add it to the pile. The checker begins the extensive process of scanning all the items, and I can see the look on their face.

None of them are really shocked anymore. When they see me, they know they'll be scanning pounds and pounds of junk food. And judging by the size difference between you and me when they last saw you, I think they know where it's going. You're not with me this time, of course. You've gotten too lazy and too heavy to be waddling around the grocery store anymore, especially when you can trust me to fetch everything your greedy heart desires.

Getting it all inside is a full task in and of itself. I practically get a full arm workout hauling all the bags from my car, through the door, and to the kitchen. You know I'm not one for taking multiple trips, but with the amount you go through, I'll have to go back at least once.

When I walk in, you're right where I left you: feet up on the ottoman, laid back on the couch that is undoubtedly straining to hold your weight. The groceries are heavy, but I just can't help but pause and marvel at what a sight you are. Rolls covering your body from top to bottom, legs forced apart from the sheer girth of your thighs, your blubbery mound of a belly spilling onto your lap from under a t-shirt turned tank top, fattened tits resting on top of your gut, pillowy arms and pudgy hands tilting a fast food milkshake cup back to get every single drop. A living definition of unrestrained hedonism.

You glance over at me, continuing to suck down the entirety of your indulgent treat. I have to wonder if you're putting on this little show just for me, or if you really have become that gluttonous. Probably both, if we're being fair.

"Looks like you didn't wait for me to get back," I say, walking to the kitchen to set your goodies down. "How much did you struggle to get to the front door and back for that delivery, hm?"

I hear a soft groan from you and the echo of an empty cup set on the side table. "I moved myself just fine!" Your heavy panting suggests otherwise, but I let it slide. After all, it could just be that you didn't stop to breathe until you consumed the entire shake. "You get everything?"

"Everything and more. I doubled up on some things, knowing how you've been lately."

"Oh my godddd, I need one of those sandwiches. I'm starving..." There was a time when you would rush into the kitchen to look through everything I brought back, but the last few times- "Could you bring it to me...?" you ask. Right on cue.

"My pleasure, princess," I say with a grin. I pull out one of the footlong subs and unwrap it for you, taking the liberty of slathering on some extra mayo for good measure. The moment I step into the living room, I can see your excitement as you lift your arms and lean forward ever so slightly, a wide grin on your face.

"Thank you thank you!"

I turn to leave, but I watch you take that first bite out of the corner of my eye. And then that little moan of delight that sparks the urgency in your feasting. I can hear you stuffing your face as I head back towards the garage and gather the rest of the groceries. You'll almost assuredly be at least halfway done by the time I get back inside and set everything down.

And you never disappoint. I step back in and see you pushing the last bite of a sandwich half through your lips before licking your fingers. The way you've been gorging yourself is nothing short of breathtaking. It really is no wonder that you've managed to gain hundreds of pounds.

"Your shirt is looking a little small," I call from the kitchen.

"You like how it fits?" You respond with a full mouth. "I just can't pull it past my upper belly anymore..."

"To be fair, not much does fit you anymore. I can't even tell if you're wearing underwear most days," I chuckle.

"Think I'm wearing any right now?"

I can practically hear the sultry smile on your face as you ask. "I think you want to see me struggle with all your rolls to check. But I don't think you've eaten enough to earn it."

"Well, you better bring those cookies and make a proper hog out of me, then."

With an invitation like that, the rest of the groceries can wait. I dig through the bags for all 4 boxes of soft, chewy cookies, bringing them in and setting them beside you.

"A proper hog? Like I haven't done that to you already..." I tease, taking your belly flab in in one hand and squeezing it gently. "Look at all this. All this heavy, moldable fat..."

I lift your gut and drop it on your thighs, a dense slap resonating through your whole body. The sound, the ripples that shake every inch of you, it's mesmerizing. I continue handling your corpulence with increasing roughness, gripping all your rolls and jiggling them, slapping your love handles, and sinking my hands into your hips.

"I've gotten so huge...I can't help that it feels so good..." You moan, laying your head back.

I pop open the first container of cookies and situate myself in front of you. Your belly makes such a nice table to hold the container while I lean into it. "Open up. Let me make you even bigger."

You part your lips, letting me push nearly half the cookie in. I get more aggressive with each bite you take, encouraging you to take more and more, over, and over, and over.

"Come on, piggy. Keep it up. You want to be a good pet, don't you? Eat..."

One by one, the cookies disappear, and I get to hear that beautiful, overfed panting of yours again. You huff and puff, finally able to catch your breath from the relentless feeding. Everything about your current state just encourages me, igniting a need to see you helplessly engorged.

I slowly but firmly caress your poor, sweets-stuffed tummy. "Well now look at you. All stuffed with sweets. You know we're going to need to offset that with something savory and greasy. Settle in."

"Okay..." you say, your chest heaving up and down as you place your hands on the sides of your belly.

I start scrolling through DoorDash, tending to you while I look for your next meal. It's only early afternoon, after all. And gluttonous house pets like you need to keep fed all day long.

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: I'm a Mouse, Duh [Yandere TPOF!Ren (Fox) x Reader]

Title: I'm a Mouse, Duh [Yandere TPOF!Ren (Fox) x Reader]

Synopsis: Fox wants you in just the right costume for his party.

For Horrorfest request:

Fox making his darling try on different "sexy" Halloween costumes

Word Count: 1291

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, a bit of humiliation/degradation, descriptions of previous injuries including eye gouging, questionable taste in Halloween costumes

You didn’t know you could feel anything like shame anymore, but there it was, red-hot, covering your cheeks, not unlike a thin, sticky layer of latex that you couldn’t peel off yourself. 

Speaking of--

“Turn around,” Fox murmurs, idly swirling his glass of champagne while you swiftly obey his words. 

You turn ever so slowly, because you know what’s what he wants to see. You imagine you’re a doll in a music box, sans music and static ballerina pose, spinning slowly enough to let him get a look at his newest handiwork. 

The skin-tight latex cat costume does wonders in keeping your movements slow as well, but you try to ignore that part and stay in the music box metaphorical fantasy. 

He sighs lowly--your stomach roils--and shakes his head. 

“No, not quite right.”

He gives you another once-over, and you must be frowning, because he continues in a casually reassuring tone. “Not that you don’t look lovely, but it’s not what I want for tonight.” What he wants, in this case, is unclear. You’ve already tried on 3 different costumes, and he didn’t care for any of them. 

He gestures with his free hand at your hand, and you dutifully remove the latex cat ears (that matched your outfit, of course) and hand them over. 

He sets them on the table and beckons you over.You eagerly scamper over, turning away from him; you really did need help removing the thin layer of latex. At least he does it swiftly, though you feel a veneer of sweat on your back when he begins to peel it away. He continues pulling it down until you lift each of your legs, stepping out of the tight concoction with a visible sigh of relief. 

There’s a warm chuckle behind you, and you shiver when you feel his nails lightly raking down your back. 

When he stands and makes his way over to the long costume rack that one of his employees brought in, you follow. He thumbs through them, humming, pulling a few out now and then.

He pulls out a black and white lacy concoction, something that looks like the type of clothing people world in olden days. A big felt sword hangs off the flimsy top and there’s a large tricorn hat attached to the hanger, and it takes you a moment to realize what the costume is meant to be. 

A pirate.

He smiles, but you don’t. Your empty eye socket suddenly aches and your lip trembles. Which just makes him grin a little.

“Too on the nose, huh?” He taps his finger above your eye patch, a neutral black cloth for now. Fox said he wanted to pick your costume before they went about choosing what prosthetic or patch to give you. 

You suppose he wants you to care that he’s taking the time to find you the right costume, that he wants you to be appreciative that he’s putting so much effort into it. And when you suppose what he wants,  you do your best to fulfill it. That’s how you’ve made it this far.

So you look closer every time you think he might be choosing a costume and you try (pirate mistake notwithstanding) to mimic his reactions. This one is cute, mm-hmm. That one won’t do, nuh-uh. 

Maybe you would be appreciative, maybe even a bit excited about the idea of getting to dress up on Halloween, if you weren’t dreading tonight. You were going to attend a Halloween party with him. Thrown by him. Populated by the guests he chose. 

You weren’t putting on a show (that fear had already been cooingly whisked away, the moment you broke down into seizure-like sobs at the thought) but you would be… on display. 

Like a pet. No, no, that’s not entirely right, is it? You are a pet. You’ve got the collar to prove it. 

What would the people at the party be like? As bad as the ones who watched the show? Worse, because they were there in person and not just through a screen? Maybe some of them would be the same… would any of them recognize you? Would they hurt you? Would Fox let them hurt you? What if--

“Ah! This one!” He says, pulling you out of your heavy thoughts. There’s a glint of excitement in his voice that makes the tension in your stomach ease off. 

When he gets excited like this, it’s a good sign. Usually it’s related to finding out that you like some of the same things as him (you genuinely enjoyed, at least as much as you could, curling up on a sofa and watching anime with him) or you surprising him in a way that pleases him.

Sometimes he seems younger when he gets like this, more carefree. There’s a pang of envy when that happens, but you never let it last too long. 

He pulls out the costume he’s chosen and shoves it into your waiting, slightly trembling, arms. You don’t even have time to really see what he chose. 

“Quick now.” He flashes a muted grin. “The guests will arrive soon enough. Don’t want to be late for your first party.” 

You don’t waste time getting dressed. The end result, when you stand up and let him zip up the back of the costume, is cuter than you expected. It’s a mouse costume, a short little gray number with a black tail hanging off the edge. The costume covers your ass enough that as long as you don’t bend over, you should be fine.

 (You try not to think of ways that Fox might make you bend over in front of others. But then, he didn’t like it much when others were around you, so maybe he didn’t want you to show off more than necessary? The questions are really too difficult to consider for long.)

The finishing touch is a big pair of cutesy gray mouse ears that he tenderly places on your head. It’s the type of costume that you might have worn on a night out with friends, before. Though you’d have worn something else underneath, and you’d definitely still have two eyes. 

Still. It’s better than the tight catsuit. 

And you look... cute. If you ignore the missing eye, and the scars on your face. And the cauterized nail wounds dotting your body. And the cross-cross of scars, old and new, lining your arms and legs.

These are all things you have gradually forced yourself to ignore, so yes, you can put them aside and appreciate the way that the mouse ears frame your face or the way that the costume is made from nice materials.

You can ignore the hungry gaze of Fox standing behind you, keeping his eyes on your own as you stare at your reflection.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, standing behind you and looking at the finished product through your reflection. In the mirror, you see him place a kiss on your neck. Your body recognizes what will happen before your brain does, because your shoulder tenses even before he bites your skin harshly, lapping at the blood he leaves behind. 

“We can leave the patch as-is,” he says. You’re too busy staring at your reflection to answer. Maybe he takes it for being pouty, because he continues.  “Unless you want one of your prosthetics tonight?” 

How nice of him to ask, you think, and your heart feels sick when you realize the thought came without a trace of sarcasm. You’re really fucked up, huh?

You shake your head and give a little smile, looking at him in the mirror.

“No,” you say, voice meeker than you meant it to be. “Whatever you think looks best, sir.” 

He smiles, just a little. An intimate smile, a you’re-being-good smile, the kind you think (you hope) he reserves just for moments like this. And then he places a tender kiss on your bite wound. Bits of red stick to his lips and he licks them away, sighing low and almost husky. 

You know this sound, these gestures, the way his breath quickens and comes out of his nose. You feel two hands grope your ass and you squeak, like the mouse you might as well be. 

“I suppose it won’t hurt if we’re a little late… it is my party after all.”

[daenysx]

requesting for one 1k celebration (ik it's late and it's totally okay if you decide not to write it, congratulations on it anyway!!) but rockstar!reader with either fan or bodyguard!james??? idk, take this any way you want, i'm giving you the wheel

i loved this request so much and i tried my best so hopefully you'll enjoy!! thank you for requesting, love u♡ you can send james potter requests if you have one!

bodyguard!james potter x rockstar!reader, you and james can't keep your feelings secret anymore

brave enough

you like the hotel room but it's boring to spend all night in.

the concert was quite satisfying and it went smoothly. you know you're getting more and more popular each day; followed by paparazzi almost everywhere, interviewed by important channels that people talk about on twitter, having fan accounts on instagram. you feel a sense of joy and fear at the same time. it's scary to be famous but you enjoy sharing your songs with people, you like the way their eyes shine when you start singing. most of the time you think it's worth being a bit scared.

this is where your security team joins the picture. you are being protected by a team of bodyguards, they are silent but effective. sometimes you feel too important when you walk into a crowded space with the team covering everywhere but most of the time it doesn't feel normal. it feels so silly to be needing protection unlike a normal person. you should be past that. you should realize your position in this world as a famous rockstar and probably should be grateful to these people who never let anything bad happen to you.

shaking redundant thoughts away, you put on some comfy clothes, a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt. you only take your wallet and your phone before leaving the room, airpods tucked nicely in your pocket just in case. you check how you look on the mirror at the bathroom and the sight is just like you imagined, exhaustedly happy with a crooked smile and tired eyes.

you knock on the door across yours. you are sure james will open it in two seconds. he does that exactly but the sight in front of you makes you look at your shoes shyly without thinking- he's shirtless.

"hey." james says, casually. "something wrong?"

he's always asking that firstly, the head of your security team. he's huge, all muscles and tall, you have seen too many comments on instagram saying how hot he looks. well, he does. he really is good looking, you'd have to be blind to not realize it. he has lovely eyes and a big smile when he tries to be comforting, huge hands and a perfect chest. james potter is someone's dream guy, you are sure of it.

"no." you say, eyes still looking anywhere but him. "nothing, i just- i got bored, thought maybe we could go out. you can put on your shirt- if you want, i can wait."

james takes a step back to let you in. you follow his lead, the room smells like his cologne and hints of aftershave. it's making your legs shaky, you sit on the couch as he takes his shirt from the bed and puts it on.

"you wanna go out?" he asks with a gentle voice. things with him has always been this sweet, not like a regular boss-employee relationship. you know he cares about you, he's like a friend who's always been around, who you can always fall in love with if you ever take that dangerous step.

you nod at his question. he puts on his glasses and looks like himself again. "i wanted some fresh air, and i'm a bit hungry. maybe we can get chicken nuggets from the place in the corner?"

james thinks about it for a moment. it feels weird, like you're asking for his permission to go out but it's far from the truth. you need james's opinion before leaving a secure place because he knows the best. he knows the danger, the press, the paparazzi. if he says you should stay in, you probably should listen. still, you're hoping he'll say yes to going out with you.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart." he says. "i think we should stay at the hotel tonight."

"yeah?" you ask. you can't help but feel a bit upset, you are tired because of your busy schedule but you want to hang out sometimes. you want to be anywhere you want any time without worrying. it would be so nice, to be out with james, just eating and drinking. you could tell him all about your new album. you could tell stupid jokes to him, you could make him smile. now that your voice sounds sad, james flinches just a little bit. he comes to your side with a few short steps.

"i'm really sorry." he says. he kneels in front of you to make an eye contact. "you just had a show and i think it's better if we stay out of sight for now."

you nod, give him a smile to let him know it's okay. "i'll go back to my room then. you should get some rest, you've been working all night long."

you stand up to go but james is quicker. he holds your hand, your fingers go lax in his palm. he is on his feet again, looking at you with a promising pair of eyes.

"do you want to stay here? we can order chicken nuggets and sit in the balcony."

the idea is tempting but you really don't want to waste james's resting time. "it's okay, james. you probably should get some sleep before we leave tomorrow morning."

"sweetheart." he says, his voice is so soft you could crumble under it. "please. would you like to spend some time with me?"

you nod this time, how could you resist his sweet voice? james orders take out as you go sit in the balcony, the night air is chill and you can see a few stars. it's quiet and nice, you close your eyes to the breeze you feel on your skin.

james comes in, wearing a hoodie. he has one in his hand too, he gives you the hoodie, hoping you'll accept. you take it, thanking him silently before wearing it. he sits next to you, comfortable silence fills the air as you wait for food. you look so pretty in the hoodie, james almost doesn't hear the knock on the door. he is quick to leave the balcony, shaking his head as if he's trying to stop thinking something he shouldn't.

he comes back with the food and two huge paper cups of iced tea. you help him settle the paper bags down on the little table, he ordered nuggets and different kinds of sauces he's sure you like. you take a sip from your drink, coldness of it gives a relief to your throat. james does the same, you both start eating silently.

maybe it'd be uncomfortable if it were someone else, just sitting and eating without saying much but this is james you are here with. no matter what the situation is his presence is always comforting and warm. you adore how cool he is, how kind.

"so," you start, breaking the silence. "did you enjoy the show tonight?"

james smiles. "of course i did. you know your way around that stage, you know? i always enjoy seeing you sing."

"thank you, james." you say with a soft voice.

"you are-" he starts, "you really are something else."

you stop drinking for a second to see his eyes. he sounds like he's confessing a big secret but it's not the first time james has complimented you, so you are not sure why his voice comes out like that.

"jamie?"

"everything stops when you sing, when you dance on the stage like you always do. i see people's faces, how they admire you, how they follow your every step. my face must look like theirs i believe, just- like your biggest fan."

you give him the loveliest smile you can manage, how dare he says such a beautiful thing? he smiles back, it's full of admiration and pride. he's proud of you, you realize. he's always been around, always been there for you. he's been fierce and brave, faced every little thing that bothered you like the strong man he is. your chest fills with something you can't identify.

"well," you wander around the words. "you're my favorite fan and that puts you in the most special place."

james chuckles, you are losing your mind. you forget everything for a second, who you are and who he is.

"james, i-"

"angel." he says. "it's okay."

he has no right to do that. he has no right to make your heart beat faster and say that it's okay. you feel like you should do something, say something to end this misery. you both stop eating, the wind passes through your hair. james still looks at you with an undeniable affection.

"i'm not trying to mess with your mind, i promise." he says quietly. "but i'm not strong enough to keep everything in me, i just- i'm sorry if i'm making you uncomfortable."

"no, no, of course you're not." you say quickly. "it's just- i don't want to be delusional, james. i don't want to imagine things."

james reaches for your hand. the short distance between you disappears as he leans for your cheek. he gives you the softest kiss, you can't breathe when he does that. he leans back into his chair, your hand still in his hand.

"you're not imagining things." he says. "i don't know if i should be brave enough to tell you something i can't take back."

your fingers move a bit, but james doesn't let go. "you should." you say, firmer than ever. "you should be brave. i believe it's in the job description."

he pulls your hand to himself, makes you stand up and fall back to his lap. your heartbeat goes faster, he holds you gently.

"i'm mad for you." he says, looking deep into your eyes. "i'm willing to take any risk if you want me to. i'd do anything to protect you, and it's not only because i'm your bodyguard."

you settle down on his lap, holding one of his hands and stroking his knuckles. "can i kiss you?" you ask, not too shy but a bit hesitant.

james nods, and he cups your cheek. his thumb rubs your jawline, you cover his lips with yours. the kiss is better than you imagine, he is the only thing in your mind. suddenly, you feel how dangerous he is; you can write hundreds of songs about this kiss, about james. he has the power to invade your mind and he isn't shy about it. he is a fierce kisser, uses his hands and lips in a way that makes you melt.

his tongue meets yours and it's the best thing at that moment. james sucks your bottom lip, he doesn't break the kiss until you pull yourself back. you press small kisses on his cheeks, his sharp jaw is prominent under your mouth. he breathes faster, the tip of his nose rubbing on your cheek.

"what if someone sees us here?" you ask, playfully. his hand around your thigh tightens.

he pushes your hair back. "it's too dark here for anyone to recognize us. do you think i'd put you in that kind of situation?"

his tone matches yours. "i think you'll have to put me in that kind of situation eventually." you say, kissing his lips again. "i'm not worried, james. i like you too much to be worried."

"i'll protect you." he says, so serious and so lovely. "i won't let anybody hurt you."

"i know, baby." you say, and james visibly loves the word baby coming out of your lips.

he can only kiss you more after that. the night is long and it's full of promises, you are both so tired to think. it will be okay, you know that. it should be okay when he kisses you like this, like you are the most precious thing in the world. you kiss him back, trying to be brave enough for his heart. for now, it's good. james will make sure it'll be better.

[ramblers-lets-get-ramblin]

[Sin]ema- ex fiance!Frankie Morales x fat! female reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Paring: ex husband!Frankie x fat/curvy/plus size! female reader

Summary: You are unhappy in your marriage but trying to hang on. When you ask your husband to spend more time with you, he thinks a movie date is in order. You don't expect to run into your ex fiance, Frankie, and his new wife there.

Rating: E for EXPLICIT MDNI 18+

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: infidelity, unprotected PIV, oral sex f!receiving, creampie, body insecurity, smoking- there are a few things I'm not tagging so as to not spoil them but they are tame.

Notes: I wrote this a while back in response to that dumbass anon and for some reason I just totally forgot about it!

When you told your husband that you wanted to spend more time together, this isn’t what you had in mind. You were hoping for something more like dinner. Out at a restaurant or a quiet night in, it didn’t matter to you. You just wanted to talk. Something your husband has no interest in. As evidenced by the fact that he brought you to the one place you couldn’t talk for your date.  Some days you find yourself wondering if this is all you’ll have to look forward to for the rest of your life. 

You only married him because that was the logical next step. Your whole relationship was just one milestone to the next, as dictated by the expectations society has set for you. Especially for women who look like you. Growing up in the 90s meant you were bombarded daily by the “heroin chic” look that was on the cover of every magazine. You could count the ribs of the models. By the time you hit high school, you had already been taught, however indirectly, that you weren’t pretty enough. There was too much of you. The fat girls in all the rom-coms were always the comic relief. The one someone had to “take one for the team” with. The one who had to settle for what she was given. 

To be fair, your husband never made you feel this way. He was genuinely interested in you. In who you are as a person. But somehow, it always felt like he loved you in spite of. Sure, you were what people would politely call “chubby,” but he loved you anyway. You had learned to love yourself years ago. Not in spite of your body, but because of it. Stretch marks, cellulite and all. You probably wouldn’t even know the difference between someone loving you just the way you are, and someone loving you anyway , if it hadn’t been for Frankie. 

Frankie had been the first man to see you for exactly who you were. Not someone who he could love if you just lost those twenty little pounds. Not someone he could diet and exercise you into being. Just you. And goddamn had he loved you. Every inch. Every roll. Every stretch mark. He reveled in the softness of your body. He worshiped at the altar that lay between your plump thighs. 

But, such things weren’t meant to last. You were engaged to be married, but something happened to him after his first tour overseas. When he came home he wasn’t the same man he had been before. He didn’t laugh as much. His eyes had a far-off look to them. As if he wasn’t really present anymore. He fucked you with an urgency, a fervor, that he never had before. Held on too tightly. Almost like you’d float away if he didn’t. Or he would, you were never really sure which. 

When he came home from his second tour he called off the wedding. Told you that you deserved better. He didn’t believe you when you said there was nobody better for you than him. When you think about what your life has become you almost want to say “joke’s on him.” Is it really, though? Perhaps the joke has always been on you. 

It feels strange to think of him after all these years, seemingly out of the blue. Especially since, or maybe because, you are concerned about the state of your marriage. You’d heard he got married a few years ago. You wonder if he ever thinks of you. Finally, it's your turn to hand your tickets to the theater employee. You don’t even remember the name of the film you are seeing. Some action movie you have no desire to actually watch. At least the previews will be good. 

You walk silently, hand in hand, with your husband to the concessions counter. You wait in line, shoulder to shoulder, without so much as a word passing between you. When you get to the counter he orders for you, a small drink and  popcorn each. When you get your snacks and turn to head for the theater, you are struck still. There he is. Right in front of you. Frankie. 

Even with the hat, you’d know him anywhere. Standing next to him, with her arm threaded through his, is one of the most gorgeous women you have ever seen. Their heads are bent together in laughter. He was always funny. The diamond on her finger reflects the bright lights of the theater lobby. You had played sick and stayed in your bed for three days when the news reached you that he had gotten married. You had found yourself wondering, what does she have that I don’t?

Now, standing before them, you think you might know. She’s all the things you knew you would never be. As much as you hate to think it of him, maybe this is the reason he called off your wedding. You didn’t even know he moved back. Your husband tugs your arm, pulling you from your thoughts. Just before you turn to walk away, Frankie’s eyes snap up and lock on yours. They widen in surprise and his mouth opens in a soft ‘o.’  

You move to walk away, intending to ignore his presence altogether, but he speaks your name. It’s so quiet you almost think you imagined it, until he repeats it, a little louder this time. Your husband nudges you with his elbow and gives you a curious look. Yo know you probably seem like a fucking idiot right now but you just can’t seem to make your mouth form words. 

Frankie catches on quickly and holds his hand out to your husband. 

“Hi there, Frank Morales.”

Your husband’s eyebrows fly towards his hairline as he recognizes the name, and its significance. He extends his hand to return the gesture. Frankie gestures towards his wife and introduces her as well, though you forget her name the second he says it. You shake her hand politely, giving her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. She doesn’t react to your name the way your husband did to Frankie’s. Maybe he never told her about you. Maybe you’ve made the whole thing out to be more serious than it ever was. Than he ever was. You nod along to the small talk you aren’t actually listening to. You can’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart inside your ears. 

Your husband shakes Frankie’s hand again and waves to his wife. You give her a slight wave and lock eyes with Frankie once more. There’s a sad look in his eyes and just maybe, a flash of regret. The corner of his mouth turns up in a small smile as he puts his arm around his wife’s shoulder and heads in the opposite direction. 

Once settled into the packed theater, you are thankful for the darkness. When the movie begins you don’t try as hard to hold the tears back. What are the odds that he would be here of all places, of all nights? You don’t pay any attention to the movie though you stare straight ahead at the screen. You couldn’t recap it if your life were dependent upon it, beyond the occasional explosion and maybe a nip slip or too. 

Suddenly it feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. Your heart races and your face heats up. The room feels much smaller, the walls closer than they had been before. You take in a couple of deep, slow breaths, trying to quiet the unease that has taken root inside your body. The little voice nagging at the back of your mind, posing the question you haven’t allowed yourself in years. What if?

You need to get out of here. Get some fresh air. Your husband barely acknowledges your presence as you scoot past him, with a hushed excuse of “bathroom.” You climb down the carpeted steps and glance at your phone. There’s about thirty minutes left in the film and you wonder if he would notice if you just slipped back in just before the credits roll. 

You splash water on your face in the bathroom, drying it and your hands with a paper towel. You look in the mirror and fuss with your hair for a moment. You readjust the thigh high socks and pull your skirt down just a bit. When you walk out of the bathroom into the long hallway you look first left, then right. Left will take you back to the theater, back to the movie. Back to your husband. Right will take you out the side exit. To the alley on the side of the multiplex. 

The hydraulic door makes a loud click when it shuts behind you. A whiff of cigarette smoke invades your nostrils and you turn. Right there, next to the door, is Frankie. His back is against the wall and his right knee is bent, cowboy boot resting on the brick. He blows out another cloud of smoke and throws the cigarette butt on the ground. It rolls, embers still red and smoking, until it hits a crack in the sidewalk. You stand there and watch it until the tip turns dark and the last of the smoke wafts away into the night. 

“Hey there, bonita ”

You try to swallow past the thick lump in your throat as the heat once again flares inside your body. The sticky humidity of the night has your socks clinging to your thighs. The smoldering look in your ex’s eyes causes your panties to grow damp beneath your skirt. He pushes off the wall and takes a step towards you. You are once again frozen in place, unable to think of anything to say. He pulls his cap off by the bill and runs his fingers through his messy curls. You can still remember how your fingers feel tangled in them. How they would tickle the skin of your chest when he would fall asleep wrapped around you. 

“Guess I’ll leave you be. It was good to see you.” He spins on his heel and turns to head back inside. He gives you one last look, brown eyes as sad as you’ve ever seen them. 

Say something you fucking idiot!  

“Frankie. Wait.” 

He turns back around and closes the distance between you in just a few strides. His body crowds yours and you take a step back. Another half step and your back hits the brick. You suck in a deep breath and his arm extends, bringing his hand to rest on the wall beside your head. 

“I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna speak to me, baby.” He rasps, inching his face even closer to yours. 

“I didn- I just- I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He places his hand at the hinge of your jaw and runs his thumb across your cheek. When you lean into his touch, closing your eyes, he moves his body even closer. 

“I thought maybe you didn’t miss me.” He holds your face just a little firmer, his lips barely brush over yours. “Not even a little bit.”  He smells like cigarettes and movie theater butter. 

You shouldn’t be doing this. Neither of you should. But you just can’t stop yourself from leaning forward a bit, hoping to catch his lips between your own. But just before you can, he pulls back. You open your mouth to protest but he places his finger over your lips. He grabs your hand and pulls you further down the alley. 

There is no light back here save for a single yellowing bulb, and Frankie pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns the flashlight on. Once he’s pulled you far enough away from the entrance to the alley, and any prying eyes, he pushes you back against the wall. He must have already gotten his fill of teasing because he immediately captures your lips in a ravenous kiss and presses his thigh right against your center. You grind down on him while your hands move automatically to his hair, knocking his cap to the ground. 

His hands go to your hips and he moans when the soft flesh yields under his touch. He inches his thigh even closer and you give his curls a tug. He releases your lips and groans low in your ear. His hands slide up your side, caressing the flesh that lives there. He drags them back down, dropping to his knees on the concrete. His fingers dip under your skirt, exposing the tops of your socks. His nostrils flare as he pops the top against your thigh. 

He lifts your skirt higher, until it sits up on your hips and he can see that you are already soaked for him. He buries his nose in the fabric, pressing it into your mound. The wet cotton is cool against your skin but the sensation is opposed by the hot breath he lets out. He inhales deeply and moans against you. He looks up at you and you are already so worked up, just one touch from him is liable to push you over the edge. 

“Fuck, I missed you bonita .”  

Before you can even respond he lifts your leg, resting your thigh on his shoulder. He scoots forwards on his knees until he can’t get any closer. He bites your mound softly through the fabric of your panties and your knees begin to wobble. He pulls them to the side with the hand that isn’t cradling your thigh against his face. His stubble pricks the soft skin there as he presses his tongue lightly against your clit. He doesn’t move it yet, just holds it there, savoring the taste of you. Reveling in the way it throbs against his tongue. 

Only when you start squirming and tugging on his hair does he finally move. He swirls his tongue in slow, precise circles around your clit. He still knows your body so well, even after all this time. He knows exactly how to have you dripping for him, whining for him. 

“Fuck! Frankie, please. ” You beg. 

“I know, baby. You need more.” He whispers. He stands from the ground and you whine at the loss of his mouth. “Turn around.” He instructs. You pout but do as he says. You know that whatever he has in mind, he’s gonna make you feel good. 

“Put your hands on the wall.” You look at him over your shoulder and he just cocks his eyebrow expectantly. “Do it.” 

You place your hands against the wall and your ass sticks out. Frankie grabs the waistband of your panties and drags them down your legs, lifting your feet one at a time for you to step out of them. You expect to hear the clinking of his belt but instead you feel his hand land a swat on your ass. From your position, you miss the look of delight as the flesh ripples from his touch. He grabs a handful of ass in each hand and spreads your cheeks apart. He resumes his previous activities. Long, slow swipes of his tongue. Through your folds and around your clit.

It doesn’t take long to have you teetering on the precipice. He still recognizes the signals your body gives him. He knows you are close. His fingers fly to your clit and his tongue breaches your entrance. His exaltation is rewarded with the feeling of your walls fluttering around his tongue. He laps up everything you have to give him and only stops when you bat his hand away. He plants a kiss on your ass cheek and lands another, softer swat on the other before he rises to his feet. His hands return to your hips and he presses his denim covered bulge against your asscrack. 

“Feel what you do to me, baby?” He asks as he pulls back onto him. Still coming down from your peak you can only nod your head in response. “I think he missed you even more than I did.” 

His hands leave you once more and the telltale sound of his belt being unbuckled and his zipper coming down fills the alley. He rests his cock, thick and uncut, on your bare asscrack. He reaches around you and runs his fingers through your folds, gathering your release. You whimper at his touch, aching for him to be inside you. 

He rubs the head in between your cheeks, down past your asshole until it catches on your entrance. Slowly, he nudges himself inside of your cunt. You’ve had bigger dicks before, longer ones. But you’ve never had one as thick as Frankie. Just on the edge of too big , he stretches you open around him. Your walls give way to him and he buries himself inside you. 

“ Oh fuck, baby!” He cries out, unable to keep his voice down.  

“You’re gonna get us caught.” You turn and look over your shoulder and are treated to the sight of the near-feral look in his eyes. Your insides turn liquid when winks at you. He’s just like you remembered he was, before the war took him away from you, devilish little grin and all. His hands move to the spot where your hips and ass meet. He grips you firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

He fucks into you with the same kind of desperation as the last time you were together. He knows this moment together is fleeting and now you understand the urgency he was feeling back then. With your hands planted firmly on the wall, you meet his every thrust. The slick sound of skin against skin fills the darkness in the alley. Your thighs begin to burn and Frankie’s pace falters. A half a dozen or so thrusts and he’s cursing out into the night. 

“Shit! Ohfuckohshit baby!” He cries and you are so fucked out you can’t even form a coherent thought. He spills inside of you and the twitching of his cock and the way he sounds when whimpering is dragging you over the edge again. He pulls out of you and his come slips out, falling to the pavement in thick globs. He spins you around by your elbow and your back is up against the wall again. 

He lays his head on your shoulder with his nose buried in your neck. Your fingers thread in his hair once more and you just stand there, together. Your chests heave against each other and you just enjoy the feel of each other, the smell. But nothing gold can stay and the moment breaks. You shuffle silently in the near dark, righting your clothes and deciding what to say or not say. Frankie picks his hat up from the ground and dusts it off with the same fingers that were buried inside you moments ago. You pull your panties back over your shoes and up your legs. They stick to your skin from your own arousal and the come that still dribbles out of you. You both avoid the other’s face. 

You walk hand in hand back down the alley until you reach where the light is. When you drop his hand he finally looks at you. 

“I’m not sure what to say here.” He admits and for the first time tonight you cannot read his expression

“It was good to see you.” you reply, mirroring his earlier sentiment. You walk out of the alley and back to the theater. 

“ Bonita , wait.” He calls after you. You slow down briefly, but square your shoulders and continue on. 

You use the bathroom and try to clean yourself up as much as possible before sliding back into your seat. Your husband leans over the armrest. “You okay”? He asks, never taking his eyes off the screen. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You take a sip of your soda, now mostly watered down. 

“You took a while.” He points out.

“Long line.” He doesn’t even acknowledge your response, more focused on the film’s climax. 

The credits roll after a few minutes and you stand. Your shoes stick to the floor in a way you hadn’t noticed before. Your husband grabs your hand at the end of the row and leads you down the steps. In the lobby you see Frankie and his wife coming out of their theater. She’s snuggled up under his arm, in the place that you used to call home. You and Frankie meet gazes for a moment and you both quickly look away. 

On the way home, you feign interest in your husband’s recap of the film and its best scenes. You nod your head and interject with an occasional “mhmm.” he holds your hand the whole way home, rubbing his thumb along your fingers affectionately. Once home, you get into the shower right away, wanting nothing more than to wash Frankie off of your body, out of your body. The smell of him, the feel, the taste. You fucked up. This shouldn’t have happened. The last thing you ever want to do is hurt your husband. Or break up Frankie’s marriage. 

By the time you get dressed and walk to your bed, your husband is already asleep. His face looks so peaceful. If only he knew. 

A few months later

You haven’t spoken to Frankie since that night at the movies. To be honest, you weren’t expecting to. He must have his own share of guilt and regret from that night. Yet, here you sit at a cafe on the opposite side of town. You sip your water and watch the door. You check the time on your phone even though you know it will show that only a minute or two has passed since the last time you looked. 

Finally, that mop of brown curls hidden under his ever present baseball cap appears. He looks around the small dining area for you and his face lights up when he finds you. You give him a small wave and he starts towards your table. When he reaches you he bends down and kisses your cheek, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do. 

He’s all smiles when he opts for the chair right next to you, as opposed to the one across. He places his arm on the back of your chair and his fingers skim along your shoulder. 

“I’m happy you called, Bonita. ” 

“I was surprised to find your number in the pocket of my skirt.” You admit. You almost threw it away a dozen times in the weeks after that night.

“I was hoping you would use it.”

“I really needed to talk to you.” You fidget with silverware on the table nervously and Frankie’s brows knit in concern. 

“What’s wrong, baby?”

You reach into the pocket of your jacket and close your fingers around the ziploc bag nestled safely in there. You hesitate a moment before pulling it out and setting it on the table. 

“What’s this?” He asks, picking it up. It only takes a moment for his brain to catch up. “Shit.” He says under his breath as he takes in the contents. 

Funny how something so small, just a couple of pieces of pink and white plastic, can mean something so big. 

“Shit.” He repeats, staring at the bag as that little pink plus sign stares right back at him. 

since tags are being fucky again I'm going to discontinue my taglist for a while. follow me over at @ramble-on-fics and turn on post notifications for updates!

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

OKAY it has been a day of being sad and panicky. Time to move.

Yesterday, I made a post detailing the cdc announcement that there will no longer be an isolation requirement for covid. If you are one of the thousands of people rightfully raging in my notes, here's some steps to focus on.

We're not gonna give up. I've seen quite a few comments with things like 'what's the point', 'why should I even try anymore' etc etc and what we're not gonna do is give them what they want! It helps the eugenics cause to be apathetic and listless. We've made it this far, we will continue to make it. I know it's hard, but I am at least right here with you. Give yourself whatever time you need to grieve, and then I need you to get up.

If you have stopped masking for any reason, or you haven't upgraded to a respirator style mask, now is the time to change or start. From now on, we will be living in a country where you could assume there are multiple covid positive people in the room with you at all times. Surgical masks will not handle that load, and cloth masks will be even less effective at that point. Obviously, this is an unprecedented situation we're putting these masks in, and I'm not gonna sit here and pretend to be an expert that can tell you with certainty that even respirators will hold up with this amount of viral load for a long period of time, but it's the best and strongest tool we have. I'm considering using my p100 more, so that's always something to consider as well (and they make you look like a cool raver when you wear them!!!). You can buy all sorts of masks here, there's more links in the comments of my original post, and most states have their own mask blocs. To find them, go to Instagram and type "[your state] mask bloc". Here is a google doc of verified advocacy groups and mask blocs all across the country here is a diy fit test kit you can buy for $30 (unfortunately they are sold out right now. shocker.) PLEASE remember to take a layered response in these times. Masks are not the only tool in our arsenal. PLEASE for the love of God keep up with your vaccinations. Make a corsi-rosenthal box or buy a high quality air purifier if you can afford it--at the very least our homes can be safe havens (you can even put a hepa filter on your furnace!!!! And in your car too!!!!!). Use CPC Mouthwash, nasal irrigation, and nasal sprays like this one. Make it a routine: you come home, you shower, you brush your teeth, you rinse your nose, you change your clothes. And, like I said in another one of my posts, DO NOT TAKE OFF THE MASK.

3. If you would like an outlet for your rage and you're into calling your reps, feel free to calmly but firmly let the cdc have it at these numbers!!!!!

[alt text: a tweet by user silly_paulie that reads:

"Disdain for the CDC unites us all. Call today and demand isolation policies be returned to 10 days, and reducing it further to 1 day would be criminally dangerous. Call both:

404-639-7000 (press 8)

800-232-4636"

end text.]

4. If you need more outlets for your rage, I STRONGLY encourage you to get involved with your local union. Moreso than calling the CDC, tbh. I've seen multiple comments telling people just to lie about your symptoms to get more sick time off, but since there's no legal precedent to allow employees sick time for covid, all that's gonna do is get people fired. I truly believe in my lefty heart that the ONLY way we're getting anything close to mitigation is through labor rights. Even the standard for the fucking flu is 3 days, and that's nowhere near as contagious or disabling as covid. I say this as a high risk person with a neuromuscular disability: covid is an intersectional issue, but where we have the most leverage to get what we need is through labor rights.

It is NOT safe for workers to be working while ill with a Level 3 Biohazard (same as TB and the FUCKING PLAGUE. Seriously we have more regulations around fucking lice)

It is NOT safe to willfully EXPOSE your employees to a Level 3 Biohazard

It is NECESSARY for all employees to be allowed up to 10 days to recover fully from Covid-19, in order to avoid possible further injury from or hospitalization

You will NOT die or be disabled for the sake of the wealthy!!!!!

(and while you're at it, ask for better air filtration too!!!! At least 5 air changes an hour, MERV-13 air filters!! Then we won't have to constantly worry about virus bs and policy changes in the first place!!!!)

5. Closing statements. Nothing has changed with covid, this is just policy. Covid still isn't magic, she still has to get in you before she can do damage--mask up, arm your home with clean air, and don't let her. It's always worse toward the end. This is not the time to give up, it's time to dig in your heels and get to work. There are so many good things happening with covid. They are finding encouraging treatments for long covid. Finally, after years of nothing, a new prophylactic for the high risk was submitted for emergency use to the FDA, and it looks like this time it's built to last against new mutations. Covid is here to stay for the rest of our lives, but the real science hasn't given up on taking the worst of its teeth out. We WILL get to the point where the extreme fear of catching covid is nothing but a bad memory for EVERYONE. All I need you to do is commit to the belief that you're gonna survive long enough to be in that moment with the rest of us.

Now stay safe, and give em hell!!!!!

[heartshapedbubble]

Ello can I request a Norton Fools good x fem reader where she came across the blown up mines and sees Norton (in his hunter form) she’s scared at first but starts to recognise him and slowly starts to approach him reaching her hand up to cub his cheeks ( bro this man needs all the love! )

HOO BOY i agree tho... his release made me regain my interest in norton🫡🫡

[not to be a scum but i'm still open for sanrio emma comms btw😭😭]

fool's gold: imagine...⛏️

cut for length!

paying the bills has become a hellish cycle. break your back to pay off the expenses, relax for the following twenty-ish days, and be sent into frenzy again, not knowing if you're going to have a roof over your head tomorrow or not.

you found yourself hopelessly skimming through newspaper, looking for any job offer possible that would easen up the burden on your wallet. The paper was plastered with offers from bars, post offices and restaurants, but those were a always gamble. will you get your wage or not? and if you will, when? too much effort for something so high-risk.

at last, a small offer in the corner of the page caught your attention. pressed in miniscule letters, it said: MINE RESEARCH. EMPLOYEES URGENTLY NEEDED. EQUIPMENT PROVIDED. underneath the text, an attractive number: $15,000 payed off immediately after the job is done.

not only could this solve the rent for the following 3 months, you'd also have some money left for yourself! you rang the number the second you got home and successfully scored the job, due to the urgency of the situation.

it took you a day or two to start thinking about the job. what do you exactly need to know for mine research? probably at least some physical strength and stamina, you thought. surely it can't be too complex.

you arrived at the mine right on time, the sun slowly slipping back into the horizon to let the moon take center stage. to your dismay, you realized no one else applied for the job. maybe this wasn't a good idea after all? crawling through the narrow, rocky terrain all alone doesn't sound like the ideal scenario. no living being in sight, and 20 minutes have already went by.

still, that money is way too good to pass up. you picked up one of the yellow helmets piled up at the entrance, prayed to whatever god out there that your flashlight has enough power to last the following 2 hours and mindlessly rushed into the collapsing mine.

for the following 10 minutes, your sight unfocused while your mind took the lead, in front of and all around you just rocks and grime, shadows dispelled by the flashlight held by your hip like a lance. only after a good 5 minutes of running did you realize that you, in fact, have no idea what you're supposed to do. what qualifies as mine research? mining, inspecting the ores, measuring the surface?

all sweaty and breathless, the tunnel led you to a large room inside of the mine, the roof extending towards what seemed like a pitch black abyss. carts messily thrown around, bumpy and unpolished geodes laying all over the place, when was the last time a living being stepped foot into this mine? it made sense that such a large sum of money was needed to attract volunteers.

you carefully moved through the rubble, trying to avoid stepping onto pickaxes and shrapnel splayed all over the ground. since you forgot about the gloves your bare hand now held onto the unpromising terrain, the other firmly squeezing the only source of light in this limbo.

the surface grazing your hand now seems like it became... smoother? no longer does it cut and pierce your palms. it's bumpy, but at least you're not risking an infection anymore.

moving inch by inch in fear of falling, the stone below changes its form. you don't even pay attention to the fact that you're now grabbing onto cloth and that, below your palm, a steady pulse is faintly beating.

it's already too late when you realize that you're not alone, and the stone below you starts to take shape and morph until it extends towards the ceiling, now towering over you, slouched like a ragdoll.

complementing the cold shades of grey, a face emerges from the shadows. pale, with defined cheekbones, although malnourished. only his bust passes as human, as below his collarbones there's nothing but a mosaic of pebbles and boulders forming his torso, arms and legs. it - or he, perhaps - is breathing with struggle, coughs interrupting his wheezes here and there.

you feel a sense of dread overcoming you. you freeze on the spot, but he doesn't budge, either. lifeless except for the fact he's breathing and his heart ticks like a machine.

you draw back a step, and he lunges forward, seemingly still not used to this monstrous body of his. he could harm me with ease if he wanted to, a thought suddenly manifests in your mind, and with newfound bravery you inspect the cryptid like a sculpture. your hand grazes over his bumpy and unfinished hands, tugs at the remains of his clothes around his chest. he groans, in annoyance, you assume, but doesn't resist. you climb up a cart to reach his face, your fingers pinch his stubborn hairstrands, inspect the cavity in which his other eye once laid. in a moment of either stupidity or courage you roughly pinch his cheeks - they're cold to the touch, but it's funny how naturally does his intimidating face mush like a little boy's. kind of cute. after a minute of cooing to yourself two of his rocky fingers gently pinch your wrists and put them back to your sides, but his one foggy eye doesn't divert its gaze from yours.

perhaps the flashlight can last an hour more.. you've just began getting to know him, and the mystery of the mine and his origin still lay cold for you to discover.

[melminli]

Devil's Advocate

pairing: hazbin hotel x fem. reader

summery - after you died, you didn't really find it surprising to end up in hell. though, what you did find quite amusing was that your life down here sucked just a bit less than the one before.

word count: 2k

contains: cursing, strong language, sinner reader, violence, religious themes (obviously), sexual themes, demon horniness

part II

"What a fucking nightmare." You muttered to yourself in annoyance as you got out of the car that had driven you up the hill. You slammed the door behind you and didn't bother to look back as the car drove away, your eyes glued to the huge hotel in front of you. You looked grimly at the building for a short while until you finally decided to walk to the door. "Someone's going to get fucked if he's not in this shitty hotel, I swear to God."

Your hand was about to knock on the door when, to your surprise, it was suddenly yanked open. You hadn't even had a chance to touch the wood with your knuckles. "A new guest! Hello! So nice to meet you. My name is Charlie!" Shouted an enthusiastic voice with stars in her eyes as she excitedly grabbed your hand and pulled you inside. She didn't even give you a chance to give her a reaction. "Vaggie! Look! Look, I told you I had a good feeling today! And that good feeling is actually here!"

Her girlfriend looked at your figure with puckered eyes. Vaggie looked at your most prominent features one by one. Cat-like, four eyes, and a fifties style...oh no. "Charlie? I think that - " she began, slightly worried, but didn't get to finish her sentence.

"I'm just here for a visit." You quickly announced before things could get any more difficult and saw the princess's happy mood drop at your words as she let go of your hand at the same time. "I apologize if I gave the wrong impression but you don't happen to have a pussy working around here?" You asked with interest, looking around the room as your eyes landed on a bar. Well, this couldn't have been made easier for you. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you only spotted a spider-like figure on one of the chairs.

"Well, only if ya talking about our good-looking Husky." He said with a big grin on his face and pointed behind him. You could then hear a deep voice swearing. Still, he didn't give himself away, and you sighed at his childish behavior as you stepped closer to the bar. "There's no reason for you to hide anymore. You've already been exposed." You said as you narrowed your eyes at the empty space until he finally appeared. "Fuck you, Angel..." he grunted out.

"Why don't ya do it for me ~ "

You all ignored his flirting. Charlie, out of her own curiosity, decided to move closer to the scene as well. After all, it could still be the case that you would eventually decide to give the hotel a shot. She didn't want to completely rule out this possibility, even if it was a small one. "Oh, so you're here to see Husker?" She asked you, finally seeing the resemblance between the two of you. Well, you both had a cat-like appearance, after all. "Oh! Are you two siblings?"

You laughed. "No. At this point, I'm even doubting whether I'm even friends with this fucker." You answered her when your mood turned sour and you hit the table angrily with both your fists. "Where the hell have you been! I've been looking all over the place to find your ass!" You yelled out, causing the others to flinch slightly at your tone.

"...look, it's a bit difficult to explain. I didn't think about telling you where I am because - " he tried to explain himself when you interrupted him.

You waved your right hand in the air, uninterested. "Yeah, I don't give a damn where you are. I'm not your mother." You said and then crossed your arms. "What I do care about is when your stupid little friend kills my employees to steal my fucking money." You said as your eyes darkened. "And you know how I feel about my money."

Oh, fuck me.

Before the conversation between you could continue, you were interrupted by another voice that wasn't afraid to intrude on the conversation. "Oh my, do we have a problem here?" He asked with a broad smile as he appeared out of nowhere.

Charlie looked at the scene a little nervously. Why am I starting to get a bad feeling? She was briefly interrupted by her worries as Vaggie leaned closer to her so she could whisper something to her ear. "I couldn't tell you before, but that woman over there is the person who owns the banks in hell. Like, all of them. I only heard of her until now." She murmured to her. "As you can guess, she's somewhat of a big deal...they call her She-Devil."

Well, I suppose that's why. The Princess of Hell looked between your irritated figure and Alastor while sweating a little. Two powerful demons in one room couldn't be a good sign, not in this hotel. She tried to calm down and stay positive. Maybe nothing will happen? Maybe they will become friends.

You blinked a few times before looking up and down at the unknown figure to take in his appearance. Then you turned to Husker and pointed your thumb at the guy. "Who the hell is this smiley freak. Do you know him?" You asked, annoyed, and even though you lowered your volume a little, everyone in the room could still hear you clearly enough. Well, it wasn't like you were trying to be subtle or anything, you didn't really care if they heard. "Hey Knuckles, is that your hair or your ears? I can't quite make it out." You laughed as your tail swung comfortably behind you.

Oh no. Everyone in the room looked a little worried at your figure, not really daring to say a word, let alone laugh along.

Alastor's smile looked a little strained as he turned his head robotically to the side. "Allow me to introduce myself. The name is Alastor. Pleasure to meet you, sweetheart. Quite the pleasure." He said, holding his hand out in front of him, and you shook it without a care in the world. Now that you had heard his name, it sounded familiar. "Alastor...aren't you that Radio Devil?"

His eye twitched slightly. "Radio Demon, to be exact."

Oh.

A slight smile graced your face. "Didn't know you were back in town. Does that mean you're coming back to the radio business? 'Cause I hate that podcast of the 2D face and could use some good entertainment." You asked him and saw Husker give you an annoyed look. He's trying to tell me something, but what is it...

You thought for a few seconds and looked back at Alastor until you finally realized it. You looked back and forth between the two of them, and Husker raised an eyebrow at you as if to say, you finally got it?

Oh.That Alastor.

After your comment, the Radio Demon seemed to be in a better mood. "Oh, thank you, my dear. You got quite a good taste there, which is getting harder and harder to find these days." He replied with his familiar smile. "But to get back to your question, I guess I have to say...I'm not called the Radio Demon for nothing."

Of course not. "Good." You say and turn back to the bartender. "Now, where were we? Oh right, I was about to fuck you up." You announced and were about to climb over the bar to let your fists do the talking, only to be stopped by the many arms of the spider next to you. "Whoa, calm down Kitty Kat! As much as I'd love to see the pussy fight between ya two, why don't we hear the man out first, huh?"

You groaned. These people wouldn't let you do your job. "Because we're in hell? And nobody gives a shit?" You rub your forehead, exhausted. "But whatever, talk then."

Husker's head slowly looked up from behind the counter. "...remember how I said that Larry is a very good friend of mine who you can trust completely and that you can therefore give him a job in your company without worrying?" He said carefully before continuing. "Yeah, I lied about that. I lost to him in a game a long time ago, and I owed him a favor."

You looked around the room. "Did you hear that? Are you happy now? I just wanted to punch him in the face and call him stupid names to get it out of my system, but now I'm not only angry but also disappointed...he doesn't even bother to apologize." You said and sat down. You interrupted him before he could say a word. "Just make me a drink since it's the only thing you're good at."

This could have ended worse. Charlie took a step towards you so she could stand next to you. "Well, now that you're here, I can tell you about the concept of our hotel! I'm sure you won't want to leave once you've heard it." She announced cheerfully, unable to read the room at all. She was also just pretty desperate to get more people into this hotel and had a hard time dealing with the fact that the only one who she got in wanted to leave again.

Her girlfriend was about to tell her that maybe this was a bad time to bring it up, but surprisingly, you didn't mind talking about it. "Oh, you don't need to. I've already heard a few things." You began giving the girl hope as you didn't have that demeaning undertone that other people usually had. "You're planning to rehabilitate sinners here, no?"

"Yes! Do you want to give it a shot?"

You shook your head. "Not really." You replied, unknowingly shattering her dreams. Your hand reached for your drink as you turned to the spider next to you. "And the last time I checked, they don't let gay people in there, darling."

Angel Dust rolled his eyes. "Well, ain't that good fucking news. Does that mean I can stop being clean? 'Cause I don't wanna to stop sucking dick." He said and acted dramatically. Tears came up and were about to run down his cheeks when a single beam of light shone on him as he leaned on a chair with his chest. "Ya guys know I love sucking dick."

Panicked, Charlie waved her hands aggressively in the air. "No, of course not! There are gay people in heaven!" She shouted out until she realized she wasn't so sure about that. She needed to do more research on the rules up there. She turned to her girlfriend, looking to her for support. "Isn't that right, Vaggie? There are gay people in heaven?"

She assured everyone in the room. "Of course, there are gay people in heaven."

"Okay, good," Charlie pronounced as she let out a relieved breath with one hand on her chest. She then happily turned back to Angel Dust. "So, you can continue to stay clean then, Angel."

He had a bit of a disappointed look on his face while he sluggishly held his arm in the air to celebrate. "Yay, woo..."

[cyberpunkhwx]

Afternoon coffee

❥ Paring: CEO! Song Mingi x employee reader

❥Genre: Drama, fluff, slightly suggestive towards the end

❥Warnings: nothing that I’m aware of, please let me know if you find any!

❥Summary: finally getting a job can be exhausting but what if there are ways to entertain yourself?

❥Word count: 0.6 k

❥Requested? No

"Ahh, I can't do this anymore" you signed as you just finished another paperwork that you got today. It's been only a week since you got a job at KQ. As a manager, it’s been more tiring than ever.

"Miss y/n, Mr. Mingi wants his afternoon coffee» «Yes sir" you went to make him his coffee and went to his office.

"Y/n, be careful, he doesn’t seem to be on his good mood today. One of the employees almost ruined his work" your friend said before letting you go inside. Well thanks to her now your heart is beating faster than ever.  

"Your coffee is ready Mr. Song."  

"Come in" his deep voice almost made you drop the coffee. Not today y/n, not today.

You took a deep breath as you slowly opened the door, stepping in.

He was sitting on the office chair, eyebrows tangled as he read through some paper, the sunlight coming through the window on his golden honey skin.

His suit was on the hanger as his hand was playing with the collar of his shirt, hair kind of messy cause of his glasses in it.

Your gaze caresses his features until they were on his chocolate eyes, which were....

..

...

LOOKING AT YOU?!

shitshitshitshitshit

His eyes were locked with yours, already lost focus on the pages he was reading, wondering about the girl who came in a minute ago, standing frozen.

"Are you going to bring the coffee, or should I ask someone else to do it" he said looking unbothered.

His voice woke you up as you made your way towards his desk, almost tripping on the way, feeling his gaze lowly on you.  

"Stupid heels" you thought, you still weren't used to these clothing since you started working there.

"Here's your usual Sir, is there anything else I could bring for you?" You asked about setting the coffee on his desk.

He ran a hand through his hair, fixing it as he put down the paper in his hands.

"Take these papers and give them to Mr. Choi, say I signed them" he said leaning back on his chair, sighing as he closed his eyes for a second. Stretching his arms out. You nodded as you leaned down to grab the papers, and dang. the stupid high heels.

You tripped on the left foot as you trying to balance yourself on the chair. But it didn’t work since you ended up there you were now.  

On your boss's lap.

On Mr. Songs’ lap

ON SONG MINGI'S LAP

You froze, couldn't do anything. Not like you could, the situation was a bit too awkward.

His arms still behind his head eyes wide open as he stared down at you. Lied side-way on his legs.

He cleared his throat as he slowly lowered his arms, slowly putting them on the arm beside him.

It took you a few seconds to realize what situation you're exactly in. You tried to get up, but it wasn't really easy because of his ling limbs keeping you away from the ground.  

Tall men🙄  

"I-I'm sorry sir I-"  

You tried getting up again but then you lost balance and almost fell off of his lap, before his fast reflexes helped and he wrapped his arms around you, securing you on his lap.

"How about you stay here Miss...?"

"Y-y/n"

"Well how about our Y/n stay here for a bit huh? I'll give Mr. Choi the papers later" he said smirking as he moved you on his lap, locking you in between his limbs.

"Well, maybe you needed a break after all. »

A/n: please let me how it was!

DO NOT copy or translate my work in any other place!

Ateez masterlist

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

i watched spto and i'm down bad for matthew patel now so uh- can i request platonic matthew patel x reader where reader works at gman media and they become friends with him after he realizes just how out of his depth running the place and just like breaks down to the nearest person that he has no idea what he's doing?

Oufh I gotta admit the same thing-

......

Being a custodian at G-Man Media certainly wasn't the job you hoped for, but at least it was a job that paid well...better than anything McDonalds could have provided.

And of course, that's only because it used to be run by gazillionaire Gideon Graves.

Yes. Used to.

There was a huge change in management that literally happened overnight--as your boss was defeated in battle by Matthew Patel, and he became the CEO of pretty much everything the former had.

The two record labels, fourteen animal shelters, movie studio, etc. etc. were now all his for the taking.

Never in a million years would you imagine that this theater-obsessed punk who was Ramona's first evil ex-boyfriend would be able to overthrow the G-Man himself.....and yet he won.

Of course, the aforementioned battle they had resulted in some serious damages and a lot of repairs having to be done in several rooms and floors. But if anything you were just relieved Matthew chose to disband the League of Evil Exes. You didn't have to clean up all their messes or fix anything Luke, Todd, or the twins' robot might have broken.

Even better was that Gideon wasn't around to nitpick at every little thing anymore.

That was a huge upside for you.

On the downside, however...your new boss was somehow both better and worse than him.

Matthew was thrown into such a tough role so quickly, and while he seemingly had everything under control with his demon hipster chicks becoming his agents.....sometimes he just looked lost.

Sure, he seemed to like shouting out orders and getting escorts in fancy helicopters, but when it came down to actual business stuff, he kept asking his employees about different things--even painfully obvious things.

You've never talked to him much even before this, although you usually keep to yourself and don't really speak unless spoken to. But you can tell he's struggling to maintain his image.

Still, you don't wanna say anything that might anger him or get you fired.

And besides, he had mystical powers that were ten times cooler than anything Gideon ever had, so pissing him off would be most unwise.

.......

It's late in the evening when you're heading to your final stop before getting to go home: Matthew's office.

He didn't say anything in particular had to be repaired, although you figured there was no harm in double-checking things. For all you know, the TV's wiring might need to be fixed or a screw in the table might've come loose.

Hopefully he didn't mind. You're usually in and out of there by the time he returns from whatever business trip he attended.

Yet upon entering his office, you stood in your tracks upon seeing that he was there, sitting all alone....apparently brooding and monologuing to himself. You were used to seeing him doing that sort of thing.

But this time something seemed...off.

Even his demon agents were concerned and looked grateful you showed up, immediately stepping aside so you could walk in further, hearing his mumbling become more coherent.

"What am I doing with my life? This isn't what I went to college for..."

"Mr. Patel, sir?" You called out cautiously. "Is everything okay?"

"....no, actually. Everything is NOT okay!" Slamming his hands onto the table, he stared up at you from across the table, taking a moment to identify you. You could see how exhausted and bloodshot his eyes were, along with his eyeliner looking more smudged. "You're the custodian, right...[y/n], was it?"

You blinked, surprised he remembered your name. "Correct. I was just-"

"Look, [y/n]..I've been feeling really awful lately and I just need to....get some stuff off my chest. And since you're the only one here right now, you get to listen to me." He then pointed to a chair near him. "Sit, and don't you dare tell anyone what we've discussed, capiche?"

Even though the clock was ticking close to the time you went home, concern over your boss' mental stability took priority over everything else at that moment. So you listened to his demand and took a seat, remaining silent and patient.

As Matthew slumped back into his chair, his whole expression shifted into one of sadness, as though he just lost his best friend. "I'm....not cut out for this job..." He confessed. "This isn't what I envisioned myself doing."

"I imagine it's been difficult. But for the record, you've only been doing this for-"

"I've already lost this company billions of dollars."

You blinked. "Billions, sir?"

"Yes, billions! You know, I-I only defeated Gideon Graves in battle because he would have taken my life if he won. And for a while it felt good to have all of his fame and fortune.......but now it....i-it just sucks! The paperwork never stops, I can barely catch a break, I don't know any of the computer passwords, and I don't even like wearing this stupid suit!!" Laying his head on the table, he banged his fist against it, choking back tears. "I'm a theater major..not a business major, damn it!"

'Poor Matthew..' You frowned slightly. "If all of this is so overwhelming, maybe you could-"

"No." He quickly sat up, his face darkening with a deep scowl. "I am NOT giving anything back to that lying scumbag! Besides, we have a legally binding contract that states all his properties are mine! That means permanently! Forever!"

"My apologies, sir..i-it was only a suggestion." You put your hands up, feeling tense especially as his demons were now frowning at you. "I know you've been under a lot of pressure lately...and there's no shame in admitting that."

Matthew blinked. "You've noticed?"

"I have." You nodded. "I mean..a lot of people go to college for one thing and suddenly wind up in an entirely different field. I know my opinion may not matter much, but...I think you're doing a great job despite your lack of experience."

He shrunk back, no longer looking angry but rather...guilty?

"Thank you.." He sighed. "I'm sorry for never saying this, but you've been a huge help cleaning up after all our messes when we had the League of Evil Exes. So..you better give yourself a little credit, too."

Now it was your turn to be flattered, as you smiled and chuckled. "Thank you, Mr. Patel. I appreciate that."

"Uh-huh..and there's something else, too.."

"And what would that be?"

"....I only refuse to throw in the towel because this company can give me the funds necessary to make the Scott Pilgrim musical a reality." He confessed.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow. "A musical based off of that guy you killed?"

"Yes. But apparently he's alive. Ramona told me."

"....I see-"

"BUT as soon as the production takes off, I may or may not return some of Gideon's empire to him. I'm sure that asshole is scheming to reclaim it as we speak..." He grumbled, his attitude turning sour again.

You thought about what you could say to cheer him up without patronizing him...but fortunately that wasn't too hard to figure out.

"I wouldn't worry about him. May I ask who you'll be starring as in the musical?" You rested your arms on the table, smirking as you saw the way Matthew's eyes lit up.

"Why, of course!" With a wide grin, he jumped up onto the table, dramatically posing. "I will be the main character: Scott Pilgrim!! I vow to delight and entertain people everywhere!" He laughed, before he stopped and stared down at you. "[Y/n], may I show you a presentation of my many one-man shows? They've all prepared me for this moment and I'd love your opinion on them."

"Sure." Shrugging, you smiled and leaned back in your seat. "I'm getting paid overtime for this, right?"

His face fell flat. "...I'm supposed to give you guys overtime?"

"Well...Gideon never did, but--nevermind." You shook your head. "You can roll the footage."

His grin returned as he snapped his fingers, causing the room to darken and the TV to come to life, showing off one of his many recorded performances.

It was a two hour long video, but entertaining nonetheless. You recognized a lot of the songs and were impressed by all his method acting.

It's no wonder he made such a convincing CEO.

After that, he finally allowed you to go home with a promise to give you overtime....although not before he exchanged phone numbers with you as thanks for being his unofficial therapist for the day.

He claims it's so he can update you on the musical's progress and "other business stuff", as he put it.

But he kept calling you on your days off to talk, insisting you referred to him as Matthew instead. "Mr. Patel" was slowly starting to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

You didn't mind it, though.

At this point, you accepted the fact that you became your boss' first (and possibly only) friend.

Maybe after he surrenders the G-Man empire for good, that friendship can continue.

[etoilesbienne]

I guess, like, more I was trying to say was Léa's testimony is being thrown out again because people are nitpicking her words to death and back. I feel like I'm going fucking crazy watching people discuss whether Léa is worth listening to after she outright talks about the amount of crunch Quackity was putting employees through with the "he thought of the prison event five days before and then we had to make it in that time." Like whether or not you like it or want to keep giving Quackity benefit of the doubt he has to outright know the negligence and the amount of crunch that would put workers under? I don't care about debating Léa's morality I care about employees being paid fairly and treated with respect. I care about how she and Lumi was in chat corroborating with how the admins had a meeting and were planning to make a three-week-long story of Pomme being missing without ever contacting Lumi after icing her out of any official communication. I'm sick of seeing the way people treat women and female creators as disposable as soon as they step out of line. I care about workers having rights for all of them. I can't give Quackity a benefit of the doubt about his workplace conditions anymore. "Okay workplace abuse is bad. BUT!" Shut the fuck up.

[bunnydolllies016]

Lab of the Damned

Chapter 1: Welcome Mc, to A.M.L!

(This is the first chapter of the main story of the Obey Me! Dark lab au! Be warned that future installments will include more gore and violence. The mc/reader is GN, so it'll be Obey me x Gn! reader. TW: Blood, dark themes mentioned, describes some violence.) Chp. 1 (you are here), Chp. 2(Coming soon)

"Greetings Mc!

We are sending you this letter regarding your application to work at Angel's Medicine Laboratory. We are so happy to welcome you to the A.M.L family! Please come into our main building as soon as possible through the hours of 8 A.M to 10 P.M for a tour and to sign your work contract. We'll provide you with your own living space as well so please bring your dear belongings.

We here at A.M.L. can't wait to meet you in person! We hope you'll love becoming part of our family.

Hope to see you soon,

Simeon Angel."

You couldn't believe it, even as you continued to hold the letter in your hands you couldn't believe it was real. You squealed happily and hugged the letter close to your chest, you can finally help make the world a better place! All the struggle throughout high school and a four-year college would finally be worth it. Also, you won't have to live with your parents anymore! You waste no time texting your parents the news, receiving congrats and support in a matter of minutes as you begin to pack up your more important items. Different outfits, some family photos, and anything else you held dear and wanted to keep with you. In the end, you had a backpack and gym bag full of stuff as you began to head out. By now your parents had rushed home to see you off and say their goodbyes. You got in your car and were off, it took you thirty minutes to finally reach the main building and it was around 1 P.M now. You sped-walked into the main building with your bags in hand, stopping to face the lady at the reception desk who seemed to be drawing something out, looked like some elaborate trap. You coughed to get their attention. The woman faced you, their pink rooted hair bounced a bit, and the blue in it looked like a good contrast to the pink. Their green eyes stared at you as they began to speak.

"Good Evening, Welcome to A.M.L., who are you and what do you need?" Their tone sounded slightly annoyed. 'Rude much?' you had thought to yourself.

"Hello, My name is Mc. I'm here for my tour and to sign my contract. Do I sign it here or?...." You say as you wait for their response. Instead, their neon green eyes look you up and down before they pick up their phone and dial a number. You hear them mumble your name over it before the person on the other line hangs up first.

"He'll be down here to get you and greet you shortly, please stay still and wait." They say before going back to drawing whatever they had been before you interrupted them. You decide to look at their name tag, 'Thirteen', what a weird name. Before you know it you see him, your eyes lighting up with recognition. Simeon Angel himself has come to greet you!

"Ah! You must be Mc!" He had begun to speak before a small bark sounded from his bag. You looked down at it just to be greeted by a light blonde chihuahua in a white hat. 'cute..' you thought to yourself. Simeon coughed before he chuckled. "Don't mind Luke, let's go to my office so we can get your papers signed," he says before motioning you to follow him into a nearby elevator. "Just leave your bags here, they'll be taken to your new living quarters by some fellow employees," Simeon states as he steps into the open elevator.

"Of course sir!" You say and do as told, dropping your bags in a nearby chair, and watching as they're taken by two mysterious people before you follow the slim male into the elevator. Eventually, you find yourself sitting at a desk, Simeon Angel behind the desk and in front of you. 

"Well Mc, I'm happy to congratulate you in person! I have your contract right here, please do sign it." The man says with a smile as he hands you a clipboard, your contract on it. You briefly read it, not really paying attention to the details, he definitely wouldn't be hiding anything dark in this contract, right? You sign the contract and hand it back to Simeon, who smiles at you and stamps it, confirming you signed it. Simeon speaks up as he takes Luke out of his bag to roam his office, "Thank you! You're the most perfect person for this role! Here take this." The male before you hands you a watch, it looks... weird, you put it on anyway, and once on your wrist, it locked around it. "Don't worry about that! It's just waterproof." Simeon says, his smile still kind and bright as he stands up and motions you to follow. He leads you out of his office, leaving Luke in it as he takes you to go get your uniform and badge. You take the bag containing your clothes and ID, smiling at Simeon before you speak up,

"Thank you, sir!" You begin with a soft smile, "Which part of the lab will I be working?" You miss it but a dark look crosses Simeon's face as he softly smirks.

"I'll take you down there now!" Simeon responds as he motions you to follow again. As you walk with him, you notice he's taking you to a darker part of the building, it somewhat looks hardly used. He stops you at an elevator and digs out a badge, using it to call the elevator. "Your department is top secret, as stated in your contract you can not talk about this work with anyone at all, we'll know if you do." He says, his voice having a somewhat dark undertone despite the soft smile on his face. "Now come along, the tour begins now!" Simeon states as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, you waste no time in following him.

You feel nervous the lower the elevator goes and decide to speak up, "So, why is the department I'm in on such a low floor?" You ask nervously with a small smile, trying to think of what kind of work you could be doing down here. You jump as the elevator stops with a thunk, not expecting the elevator to sound like, especially when the rest of the building is so modern and well-built.

"Well Mc, you will be a caretaker of sorts for our... subjects... I know it won't be too much for you to handle! They're sure to love you..." Simeon says as the dark look on his face is still present, but he still is smiling. You raise a brow, didn't A.M.L claim to not use animals as product and medicine testers? "This is the entrance hall, where you'll use your watch against that machine to clock in." He speaks softly as he points to a machine in front of the both of you. He walks forward and expects you to follow of course. Your eyes widened as you entered the next area; It was a long hallway of some sort, different testing chambers on either side. As you walk beside Simeon you aren't listening as he speaks about each room. Your heart is full of fear and dread as you see what, no, who they are testing on. In the testing room, before you stands a man with white hair in a lab coat, a sinister and sadistic look on his face as he uses a cattle prod to poke and taze a much taller man with black hair, his red eyes showing displeasure and disgust for the man prodding at him, he doesn't even flinch as he is tazed, no spasming or reaction at all came from him, his clothes were disheveled from the prodding though. That wasn't the weirdest part of the man, no it was the very pointy ears, the black horns coming from his head and the four wings coming from his back, all pitch black and some feathers clearly missing, whether it be from this kind of abuse or stress you can't tell.

"W-what the fuck?" You stuttered out as you stepped away from the glass on the testing chamber, not seeing the amused expression Simeon flashed your way.

"That is one of the nine subjects you will be looking after! His name is Lucifer, he is one of the best "demons" we have!" Simeon states as if he is just talking about the weather and not a fully grown man he's having his employees test on.

You stare at the dark-skinned male before you, a look of shock and fear across your face as you speak up in a confused but fearful voice, "Nine? Demons? Huh?" Just as you were about to continue before loud crashing, low growls, and yelling interrupted you; they came from down the hallway. Looking over revealed more "demons", specifically two certain ones fighting. One was a dark-tanned male, with slightly pointed ears, a full head of white hair, and blue eyes that had a golden-yellow gradient. He has horns that look somewhat like spirals atop his head, large bat-like wings come from his back and they flap violently. He's on top of the other male, throwing punches as different scientists try to pry him off the man below him. The male below him has pale skin, and what seems to be scales on it in certain places, he, like the two before him, has pointed ears, but his seemed to have two different pointed ends, somewhat like fish fins. His hair is a blueish-purple color and his eyes are a glowing orange with a purple gradient, the whites of his eyes seem to be a slight grey color. His horns look like coral and are a black color but have a hint of blue to them, he also seems to have a long lizard-like tail.

"Ah, Mammon and Leviathan are at it again. We'll have to punish them...again..." Simeon says, his tone showing distaste but amusement at the chaos around him as he ignores your comment. A door behind you opens and you turn to check it out, you are horrified at the man who stood behind you. He had to be about 7'5 in height alone, he was so muscular and well-built, with a muzzle around his mouth and his hands cuffed in front of him as he looked down at you with interest; he was sniffing you through the muzzle. His hair is a bright orange, his ears pointed but droopy, and he has purple eyes that seem to fade into magenta and then red, one of the whites of his eyes isn't white, but rather an inky black color. Scars litter across his body, along with weird black markings, he has black horns that curve and almost crown his head, fly-like wings coming from his back buzz softly as he continues to stare down at you. "Beelzebub! Now, Now, stop drooling into your muzzle at your new caretaker's scent! Mc this is Beelzebub, Beelzebub this is Mc, your new caretaker!" Simeon says to the towering male standing before them, who looks at Simeon with a somewhat blank expression, you can see some fear and pain in his purple eyes as he stares at Simeon.

"Wait a damn minute please!" You cry out to Simeon, finally catching his attention, and now Beelzebub, who watches you closely but with clear hesitance. "I can't possibly work here after seeing all of this! This is s-so.. so.. fucked up!" You said as you took several steps away from Simeon.

Simeon stopped smiling, his expression dark and serious as he spoke, "You don't have a choice, you signed a two-year contract with us. You're stuck here...unless you'd rather face certain consequences for trying to go against your contract." As he spoke the watch around your wrist tightened and its screen flashed red. By the look on Simeon's face, you knew the consequence of going against him would either be death or the same fate as the subjects you'll be in charge of.

"B-but- I-" You tried to protest but Simeon put a finger to your lips to hush you, a sinister smile on his own lips.

"Shhh, Mc. You already signed away your life to me." Simeon began to speak softly, but his eyes showed sadistic amusement at your internal conflict about all of this. "If this really had bothered you..." Simeon begins again, Beelzebub looks at you sadly and with pity as a guard begins to walk him back to his containment chamber, he can tell you're a good person who just got caught up in a bad situation, he can only hope you stay a good person in here. "Then you should have read the fine print." Simeon finished speaking with a cold smile as he looked down at you. Dread filled you completely, these two years weren't going to end well.

"Welcome to A.M.L, Mc. I can't wait to see all the good work you'll do."

(Well I'm not sure when I'll be able to work on chapter 2, I just started my psychology class, so I'll try my best to work on it when I can. Hope you enjoyed it! This is also posted on my AO3 account and shouldn't be anywhere else but here and there.)

[kix-mm]

Hey you asked for fear angst things to write. I’m not sure if you wanted an comment on that post or an ask but.

Maybe the tinies are the reason for fear. Like an average person maybe finds themselves in an tiny world. But like the tiny military gets ahold of them. And maybe experiments or uses them as a weapon. Cause sometimes tinys can be scary as heck too.

I imagined a few different scenarios with this prompt! Sorry if this story is a little short, I've been very busy recently, and I'm coming down with the flu!

“Wait- wait! There has to be a misunderstanding!” The alien called in their foreign language, nobody could understand their words, their pleas. Many tried to settle their foreign visitor with little to no success.

It was hard for either parties to trust each other, one was chained, hidden, and exposed to experiments such as sampling and strange studies, they were unable to rest easy and became delirious with time due to the constant trauma and lack of sleep.

The other was subjected to decades of brainwashing, distilling fear of the unknown into their minds ever since they were young. The size difference between the two only made the humans more wary… though over time more and more employees began to speak up. Stating that their experimentation was inhumane and unnecessary.

Eventually those who fought against the cruel treatment gained the upper hand, and all tests were shut down for good. And over time, experts managed to find a way to translate the aliens words, even managing to find a way to reassemble them into new sentences which they then used to communicate with the alien.

It took a long time to gain their trust, but not many will ever be able to forget the fist day of making verbal contact with their visitor…

Professor J. August enters the room. Subject immediately notices their presence and attempts to make themselves as small as possible while pressing their body into a corner. J. August attempts contact.

[Hello? Can you understand me?] Mr August doesn’t attempt to get any closer to subject in hopes to make them more at ease.

Subject looks unmistakably surprised yet remains still, they do not try to communicate in return. Mr August attempts contact again.

[Hello? Can you understand what I’m saying?]

“Y-yes…”

[I’m Professor August, do not worry, I’m not here to cause any harm… none of us here want to hurt you]

There was a long uncomfortable silence before the subject positioned themselves more comfortably, they still seem very wary.

“You did hurt me… you hurt me a lot, I just want to go home, please, please let me go…”

Mr August, along with the majority of his employees look defeated by the pleas… guilt fills the room in silence.

[I know, it was cruel to treat you like so, we promise to release you soon. It’s only right to set you free after all we had done to you. Please know that none of my current employees ever supported this poor treatment.]

The subject aggressively leans forward, the chains tug on their limbs.

“I want to go home! I don’t want your pity! I want to go! Let me go!”

The professor takes a step back and flinches, hastily typing on their tablet before giving up and attempting direct communication in the language.

“You will go home! You will! I promise you that! But please you have to settle down so you don’t scare the authorities into thinking you’re a threat.”

There was another sudden silence between the two. The subject now begins to cry due to their anxiety and high levels of stress. Doctors and scientists suspect that the alien is only a juvenile, around the ages of 12 to 16, treating like the suspected range of age has yielded positive results.

[I’m sorry for my sudden behavior, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I only want to help you and I… I panicked. I don’t want anyone to hurt you anymore.]

“… I didn’t mean to scare anyone… I thought I was the only one that was scared. I’m sorry…”

[it’s not your fault, but please try to stay as calm as possible okay? Then I promise you that everything will go well]

"And if it doesn't...?"

[... you have my word]

The subject doesn't seem too happy with the answer, and it retreats back into its corner.

From then forward, none other than professor August was permitted to communicate with the specimen. Their relationship never improved much despite his efforts to comfort and bond with the child. This never persuaded Professor August to prolong the beings' stay. At the end of that same year, the being was set free.

Unfortunately for earth, it's reputation from then on was permanently tarnished, for not only holding a young child hostage but also torturing it. To this day, every other species has deemed this planet unnegotiable due to their false promises and brutal treatment to their own species and those of any other...

[bakugosatoru]

Just gotta say that the comfort headcanons you did were SO SWEET OMG!!! I'd love to request a romantic fluff scenario with Eijiro Kirishima if you're up to it! Maybe he and y/n are having a picnic date at a park or, going off the scenario you did for Bakugo, he & y/n are going to adopt a puppy 👀

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Thank you as well for being my first request, I love the idea of Kirishima and y/n adopting a puppy! I really hope you enjoy it! (Also worked to keep the reader gender neutral so everyone can enjoy!)

Warnings: None Genre: Romantic Fluff Fic Type: Short Fanfic (1k Words) Fandom: My Hero Academia

"Crimson?" Kirishima mumbled as you both strolled up to the entrance of the shelter.

"What was that babe?" You ask.

"Oh I was just thinking what we could name the pup." He smiled at you, that gorgeous beaming smile you adored so much, as he opened the door to the shelter for you.

"After you my dear" He bowed dramatically as you giggled, grabbing his hand and dragging him through the door after you.

You were quickly greeted by a lovely older woman who introduced herself as one of the owners of the shelter. She began to lead you both down a row of cages, holding various dogs and cats. Eijiro gripped your hand tightly as he beamed, watching you listen to the lady intently, as she explained all the info about the various dogs. Age, breed, temperament, things like that.

But Eijiro wasn't really listening, all he could do was focus on you, and just how beautiful you looked when you were excited.

You dropped your boyfriends hand momentarily (much to his disappointment) to reach out through the door of one of the enclosures and gently allow one of the dogs to sniff your hand, and petting it gently on the head before moving on to the next one.

As you continued to walk, you reached back to grab Eijiros hand once again but couldn't find it. Turning around you see your boyfriend reading one of the signs next to an enclosure intently.

"That's our oldest resident" The owner of the shelter smiles as she notices which pen Kirishima stopped in front of.

"Been in here for 3 years now" She added as you both walked back to join your boyfriend next to the enclosure. At first you thought the enclosure was empty, until you saw him, sitting, curled up on the tiny dog bed in the corner.

A frail and scared chihuahua.

You started to read the blurb on the side of the enclosure that your boyfriend was so engrossed in. It told the story of this little creature, who had been hit by a car a few years ago and surrendered to the shelter when the owners didn't care to pay the vet bills. You could feel your heart shatter in your chest as you looked at the tiny creature in front of you.

"Can we go say hi to it?" Eijiro asked the shelter employee, his voice softer than usual, as if he didn't want to stress out the poor pup anymore than it already was.

"Of course" She smiled, walking forward to open the door to the enclosure. "Not many folks are interested in our little Scarlet, most people dont come to shelters for older dogs so the poor thing gets overlooked" She spoke sadly as she allowed you both to enter the enclosure. "I'll give you a bit of time to get to know her, just come get me if you need anything" She smiled before walking back down the hall to the office.

Eijiro stepped foward slowly, before crouching down to sit himself on the floor next to the tiny pup.

"Hi Scarlet" Kirishima whispered gently as he reached his hand out, allowing the skittish dog to sniff, before ever so gently beginning to pat the dog on its small head.

"I thought you told me in the car you wanted a 'big, manly dog" You teased as you crouched down next to your boyfriend and the tiny dog, joining them both on the floor.

Kirishima gently scooped Scarlet up and held her tiny body ever so gently in his arms against his muscular frame.

"I don't know, I think surviving a car accident and being all alone for 3 years, and still allowing a stranger to pet you is pretty damn manly if you ask me" He smiled down at the tiny dog, his eyes full of nothing by love and admiration.

God you love this man, no other man could be so strong, so kind and yet so gentle all at the same time, towards every living creature.

"Plus, with a name like Scarlet, I suppose its just meant to be" You smiled, snuggling up next to your boyfriend and reaching out to slowly stroke the small dog in his arms. The dog seemed visibly more calm than when you had first seen him and you felt yourself fall in love with the poor creature every second you spent with it.

"I think this is the one honey" He murmured to you, not taking his eyes off the pup.

"Yea, me too" You smile.

So just like that, you signed the paperwork and walked out of the shelter. You had expected to be leaving with a large Terrier or Retriever or maybe even German Sheppard in tow, but instead you cradled a sleeping Chihuahua in your arms as you headed home, your family having grown by one tiny creature.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bonus

You knocked on your boyfriends office door softly.

"Come on in love" You heard his chair wheel away from his desk as he called out to you happily.

"I'm not interrupting am I?" You asked as you walked into the office, stacked high with Crimson Riot memorabilia and workout equipment. In your arms you cradled Scarlet, you knew how much Kiri loved to see her when he was working.

"Interrupting? My favorite person in the world, bringing me my favorite animal in the world could never be interrupting" He smiled as he planted a kiss on Scarlets fluffy forehead, before pulling you into his lap and kissing you softly.

"Now what could I help you with baby?" He asked, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held tightly to your waist.

"Just wanted to show you something" You giggled as you pulled up an article you had just seen on a hero gossip magazine.

"Look at this" You clicked on an article, a large photo of Kirishima out walking Scarlet that must have been taken by paparazzi recently splashed across the screen with the headline:

'Red Riot bring home Tiny New Sidekick'

Authors note: This is my first time ever writing for a request but I had so much fun writing it and I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it anon!

[streets-in-paradise]

Chucky headcanons: Charles finding out you are being harassed at your workplace (requested)

Warnings: Implied sexual harassment leading to assault and Chucky avenging the reader. The description of the abuser was especified by the requester.

Notes: I didn't properly proofread this cause i'm finishing writing from my phone and i don't have my translator on it. Also, this is the first male reader request i got and i hope i'm doing it justice :) My inspiration for this were bits of the series and the Curse deleted scene where Chucky kills Daniel. Despite being two different versions of Chucky at different points of the franchise, i found both usefull to imagine this.

-At first you were very afraid to tell Chucky of what was happening to you. You know he has volatile, violent reactions and you were afraid of what that could unleash.

-Your abuser was a coworker and it all started in little hints, jokes going a bit too far and confusing episodes that left you feeling like it all could be a misunderstanding.

-The accumulation of those ' misunderstandings' changed your perception and you started to be very afraid of being left alone with him. You were feeling constantly surveiled and terrified but the source of your fear was completely invisible to everyone arround you.

-The creepy old dude harassing you was a long term employee everyone knew. Even you were deceived by him at first, at least untill he started getting too " friendly" with you.

-Chucky perceived something was wrong. Not that you have allways been super passionate about your work, but he could tell you didn't want to go there anymore. You would allways deny every of his attempts to point out you weren't alright. He just wanted to help, but you wouldn't let him.

-He may not be the best talking about feelings, but he is very protective and he hates to see you suffering. You may think he didn't, but he realized you are terrified. He knows the signs of fear in a victim too well to not spot those.

-In the first discussions your position oscilated between denying everything and begging him not to interfere because you needed the job, but the situation kept escalating untill reaching a point of no return.

-You were supposed to pick up a few boxes from the warehouse. While you were searching for the stuff you didn't realized you were being followed inside. You ended up completely alone with your abuser and he cornered you, taking advantage of your shock, then easily overpowered you.

-That was the moment in which you knew it had to stop. As soon as you could you reached the phone to call Chucky.

-You tried to explain yourself, but couldn't get into details. All he heard clearly was your wrecked voice begging him to come pick you up.

- It was the sign he was waiting for. Not that Chucky needed any permission to do it, but he didn't want to upset you and he had been craving to step in for so long.

- Only that his intervention could have one single possible end and you were aware of it, which was the cause of your refusal. Chucky wouldn't just scare him, he was not going to let the job unfinished.

- He had killed for way less, you could be sure he was 100% ready to get revenge in your name.

-By that moment he was aware. He has passed by your workplace a few times and had seen the dude. You wouldn't have to tell him anything for him to spot your " friendly " coworker is a creep, he could smell it from a mile away.

- Chucky has been stalking the place behind your back, learning his schedule and following him outside to figure out his after work habits. He had it in mind all along.

- " Don't worry, I'm coming for ya." He interrupted your rambling on the phone with macabre excitement. " ... I got you, let me handle it."

-You stoicly endured the rest of your shift with the only comfort of knowing he would show up, but it was taking too long.

- He was going after your abuser, following him out. They already knew each other and he wouldn't suspect of anything when approached.

- During the last moments of his life he made him experience the exact kind of powerlessness he made you feel. Chucky utilized his trusting appearance to deceive him into keeping a lower guard, followed him like a shadow and cornered him in a spot where no one could hear him.

- " This goes for (y/n). Did you think you were gonna get away with it, you piece of shit? Is that what gets you going? " He mockfully asked him ríght after the first stab. " Well this is what gets ME going and you ain't messing with him anymore"

- The lifeless body of your attacker was still in the trunk of his car when he arrived to pick you up.

- It was his surprise for you and that night you helped him dump it in the river.

[dnalt-d2]

Christ alive can anyone get a break right now??

(Ahem)

Update time, once again!

Also once again, it is a mixed bag

So to start off with, as most everyone knows, Pomme and Dapper's admins have resigned from their positions. This is incredibly unfortunate, and I honestly don't know what it's gonna mean for the French Creators who said they wouldn't stay on QSMP if Pomme's Admin was fired. Since she technically left of her own volition, I really don't know what they're gonna do

(Edit: I talk about Quackity's stream here but I don't speak Spanish so I can't personally say what was said exactly. Thankfully, it looks like someone JUST POSTED an English Translation so I'm just gonna drop the link here for anyone who wants to read it)

On another note: Quackity has finally given a slight update. For obvious reasons, he can't say anything specific, and I wouldn't have expected him to. But according to the translations I've seen so far, basically said that he can't update because the leaks that happened are creating added complications in the restructuring process. I'm assuming his reason for that is that he simply doesn't want anymore information to be leaked out, but unfortunately, that's just counterproductive to the miscommunication problem

AND SPEAKING OF MISCOMMUNICATION???

So as you all know, I've been in support of the French Union getting involved with this. As I've stated a dozen times now, Unions are meant to be resources, people who inform employees of their rights and do what they can to help them get those rights. As far as I know, one of the main things they do is mediate between the employees and the employers. But APPARENTLY the Union has not attempted to reach out to Quackity outside of Twitter. Which REALLY isn't all that professional. Twitter is a NETWORKING site. Meant to START building connections. Afterwards, people typically move onto email or even discord, which are way better equipped for the long-form communication that's about to have to happen

So even if Quackity WAS active on Twitter, which he isn't. And even if the Union DIDN'T know that, which they do. This isn't the right route to communicate. They have stated that he "has their email" and has to "reach out to them." They are apparently working on the logic that SOMEONE would have had to pass on the information to him by this point, which isn't a fair assumption at all, considering that we know there were Admins ALREADY hiding information from him before all this

They're acting like Quackity is the CEO of a major corporation, with COUNTLESS RESOURCES on-hand. Yeah he's the CEO of this business, but he's also a 23-year-old Twitch Streamer who in all likelihood is learning a LOT about running a business for the first time AS WE SPEAK. I'll tell you right now, when I was 23, I didn't know jack-shit, and I'd still say I don't most of the time. And the only reason I LEARNED jack-shit was because someone would actually TELL me about it. When someone makes mistakes, it REALLY helps them learn when someone is able to not just point out the mistake, but also HOW to fix it. I don't know how they're expecting him to grow from his miscommunication mistakes when they aren't willing to give him the chance to

And yes, there are MANY problems that need to be fixed, as I've said before. But Quackity did outright confirm some of the other things I've said too. That things ARE happening, and we aren't hearing about it. That we aren't GOING to hear about it. Which is fine. It makes sense. We aren't the people who need to know every step of the process. But he is going to have to figure out a better system for talking to the Admins. It's a real problem when he's communicating with people like Aypierre that Pomme's Admin has her job still, but didn't tell the Admin herself

There's still lots of problems, and I know it sounds like I'm just repeating myself, saying to wait and see, but in reality, there isn't much else we CAN do besides that and voice our support

This might be the last time I make a post on this for a bit, because this has been a little draining on me. Which I would normally be able to handle SUPER easy, I'm pretty good at handling stuff like this well enough. But now I've also got real-life stuff reminding me that no matter how much better things SEEM to be getting for me, something's gonna come smack me in the back of the head to remind me that actually things suck, and I just should've known better! And unfortunately that stuff requires my focus more than this. I'll still be here, watching everything, maybe commenting on stuff, but I might not be quite as vocal as I have been

Once again, I remind you all, take care of yourselves first and foremost. Whether it's physical, emotional, or mental, or whatever else. You matter more than the events taking place here right now. My support goes out to all of you, as well as the Admins who VERY WELL COULD BE SEEING THIS APPARENTLY. So I guess this message goes out to them as well lol. You guys rock and I've enjoyed all the contributions you've made

Anyways, see you all later