#change up your opening sentences my pals

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hear me out. Can you write a small fic or hc post about Jake with an S/O who's chubby or on the more plump side?

I can see all three of the moon boys liking and appreciating a partner who's chubby, don't get me wrong, I'm sure Steven and Marc would enjoy someone with that body type too. (You can slip them in if you'd like) But I'm lowkey feral for Jake and I just know that this man would love an s/o who's nice and soft

(You can add in some nsfw and some spice if you want)

I am so sorry, this became like 99% smut. (I have a problem).

The Gutter's Where My Mind Is

Jake Lockey x Chubby!F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

A/N: A huge thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading this and saving me from myself.

Summary: Jake can't help himself.

Warnings: chubby!reader, thigh fucking, Jake being a menace, dry humping, oral (f! receiving), over use of italics, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1254

Jake moans loudly as he hugs you from behind, unintentionally pressing his throbbing erection against your plump backside. He buries his face into your neck, breathing deeply and trying to stifle his groans. He doesn’t want you to think he only wants physical contact with you as a way for it to lead to sex.

It’s a problem though, because even if he didn’t have a boner he’d definitely get one instantly from hugging you. He just can’t help it. 

You’ve just come from the shower, your towel wrapped around your body and your skin still slightly damp. The plan had been to get changed for the day, but you hadn’t anticipated a koala Jake.

“Jake,” you giggle as he nuzzles closer, sliding his hands up your chest to squeeze your heavy breasts. He’s careful with them, cupping them through your towel, making sure he doesn’t cause you any discomfort as he kneads them with his fingers.

“Hmm?” He lightly kisses your neck, his voice innocent as if he wasn’t doing anything at all.

“I’ve got to get ready.”

“Not yet, not for another hour.” He says a little pleadingly.

You chuckle, “I was going to try on some outfits, find something that-”

“Just go naked. You’ll look perfect, amor.”

You snort. “Sure, and arrested.”

“No one would arrest art.” He lays on thickly.

You roll your eyes and it’s like he can feel the shift in your expression because he tuts and nips at your neck. 

“Ow!” You laugh, purposefully being a little more dramatic than you need to. 

“Shh, silly thing,” he kisses along your shoulder, slowly undoing the towel and easing it off. “I didn’t bite you that hard.”

“Jake…” 

He turns you around gently, grinning wickedly. But he stops and feigns a look of innocence when he sees your face. “What amor? I’m just admiring you…”

“You’re gonna make me late, is what you’re doing.” You give him the most serious look you can muster (which isn’t very serious at all.)

Jake nods, pushing you gently back towards the bed, “I’m gonna make you come, is what I’m doing.” 

You don’t even get to open your mouth to react before he’s pressing his lips to yours and sliding his tongue inside. He groans as he licks, one hand on the back of your neck and the other on the small of your back, pressing you close so he can feel your soft stomach and thighs against his body. His cock twitches, throbbing almost to the point of maddening pain as he feels your soft flesh. 

His hands shift, languidly teasing you; plucking at your nipples until they pebble under his fingers, dragging his tongue over yours until you’re following the movement of his lips desperately. 

Heat begins to build in your belly, sparking along your muscles. You rub your legs together absentmindedly, just trying to take off some of the ache.

Jake chuckles when he notices, dipping his hand lower and squeezing your thigh before he presses his fingers at your core.

He groans at the wetness he finds there, rubbing his fingers together momentarily to marvel at the slipperiness before he lightly rubs your clit. 

You let out a soft moan, pulling at his shirt, “Jake…”

“Mhmmm, amor, I know,” he pushes you back against the bed and expertly pulls off his clothes in record time before he climbs on top of you.

“I need to get ready.” You pout, putting up the smallest insistence because you feel like you have to.

“If you don’t behave I’m going to tie you to the bed and not let you get dressed the whole day.” He mumbles, grinning cheekily as he pulls your left leg to his chest and kisses your ankle. You know the threat is empty, but your body squirms excitedly against him anyway.

“Oh? Maybe you want that actually, hmm?” 

You pull a face and he laughs, throaty and deep.

“I’ll wipe that look right off your face amor, don’t worry.” 

He takes hold of his thick cock, and shifts on his knees, inching closer to you so that he can rest his length against your folds. He hums in approval as his skin touches your heat and rocks against you, rubbing his hard cock and balls all over your slippery cunt. 

You squirm, swallowing as he moves languidly and buck up against him. 

“So greedy.” He tuts, grinning wildly knowing that if the positions were reversed he would be just as needy. 

Jake takes hold of your other leg, squeezing your thick thigh and groaning before he places it against his chest as well. He presses them close so that your soft inner thighs squeeze his cock wonderfully. 

“Ah, that’s perfect amor, so good,” he groans, keeping a firm hand on your legs as he begins to move in earnest. Long, slow thrust as he fucks your thighs, sliding up and along your pussy with every buck, smearing your slick and his precome all over your soft skin. 

“Fuck, yes,” his breath catches in his throat, his hips moving a fraction faster. 

You whimper, trying to bite back the sound so that you don’t overshadow the pretty sounds he's making. Your eyes glued to his face, his eyebrows pinched in tension, his mouth open in bliss. 

He groans again, low and feral, “Amor, you’re so soft, so perfect, gonna make me come just like this.” He thrusts against you slowly, trying to drag out the sensation, make it last as long as possible before he has to succumb to the pleasure. 

He slides one hand down your thigh, squeezing until he reaches your plump hip and then squeezing even harder before he palms your soft belly, moaning at the feel of you under his fingers. 

“Fuck, I wanna fuck your thighs and come all over you, then fuck your belly, and breasts and mouth and pussy and ass,” he gasps, low and soft, “wanna come all over you and in you, wanna lick you until you pass out from how good my tongue feels.” He presses his thumb to your clit, alternating the pressure gently in time with the rhythm of his hips. 

You gasp, letting out a low whine at how desperate he sounds and how good he feels rubbing against you. Building that pressure deep in your stomach until you almost can’t breathe, can’t think or do anything except chase it practically sobbing. 

“Amor, fuck,” he bends forward slightly, groaning as he bites his lip. He wants to burn your expression into his eyelids so he can see it the second before he goes to sleep. 

It’s too much, too perfect, and the knot tightens to breaking point and beyond. He moans your name, low and deep in his chest as his hips buck twice, two sharp shudders before he comes. He splashes across your skin, hitting your stomach and thighs and core with a sob.

He looks so beautiful, like a blissed out angel staring at a god. 

For a moment he breathes deeply, resting his forehead against your leg, his eyes closed. 

You can’t help but smile at how sweet he looks, satiated and peaceful. 

That serenity is short lived however. 

Before you even have a chance to say his name Jake is pressing at your inner thighs, spreading you wide and diving down to clean up the mess he made with his tongue against your pussy, sucking on your clit until you’re screaming and rubbing his cum into your belly and thighs.

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho

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@novarosewood @pygmi-cygni

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[calliesmemes]

IN-CHARACTER QUOTES FROM DISCORD

UNHINGED SENTENCE STARTERS FEATURING THINGS SAID BY MYSELF AND MY FRIENDS WHILE WRITING AS OUR MUSES IN A CRACK-BASED NONCANON GROUP CHAT. This post is dedicated to Em, Liz, Tanny, Nellie, Mel, Ange, and everyone else in the server who recognizes these quotes — you know who you are 😈

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   Have you forgotten that you should not steal someone’s property? ”

“   I could slap that smug look off his face right now! ”

“   Your ears are a lie. ”

“   Woah woah that's - that's a bad word. ”

“   I don’t know if it’s allowed and quite frankly I don’t care. Fuck the rules. ”

“   Time for gremlin activities! ”

“   I hate this man. Let's prank him. ”

“   We are all going on strike today I swear ”

“   Looks like I need to invest in a kid leash. ”

“   DONT BE COWARDS!! JOIN THE STRIKE!! ”

“   I support her saying what needs to be said! I am done with the silencing of women!!!! ”

“   I like the dramatics. ”

“   I did not ask for a second opinion. ”

“   You seem to be doing a great job at being a nuisance. ”

“   NO BITING MY EMPLOYEES! ”

“   do you want me to bring you cheese? ”

“   Next move, start chewing on the door frames ”

“   I like crumbs. They are like a little midnight snack in my bed at night. ”

“   if he wants to be a worm, LET HIM BE A WORM ”

“   the rest of you suck my toe ”

“   To be fair I am simply vibing. ”

“   I am going to commit a war crime! ”

“   I am manifesting being happy. ”

“   Am I gonna talk shit WITH you guys? because im down to talk shit about pretty much anyone ”

“   Who says? We shall revolt without question. ”

“   Let's just start burning stuff. ”

“   Did you just call me... small? ”

“   Can I convert you with my kazoo propaganda? ”

“   We were radicalised by The Little Mermaid. ”

“   Penny in the swear jar, now. ”

“   My last words are, bros before hoes. ”

“   The old men are trying to be trendy. ”

“   I can do whatever I want too! ”

“   Can we go one day without an interruption from an American? ”

“   I am so sorry. He enjoys conflict. ”

“   Why is he so tall? ”

“   For legal reasons, kids, that's a joke. ”

“   Would you like to fight the adults? ”

“   You're not meant to bite people, it's frowned upon. ”

“   He’s a fun killer, don't listen to him! ”

“   Ow! Stop kicking me! ”

“   I have quite literally begged you not to kick, hit, or bite today. ”

“   BUT I thought we were buds, pals, amigos, chums, friends. ”

“   Oh shiiiii someone’s in trouble ”

“   How much caffeine have you had in the last hour? ”

“   I'll be honest they wouldn't be so bad if they didn't speak. ”

“   Is this goof meant to be dead or what? ”

“   I am a witch. ”

“   This one reeks of self confidence when he clearly doesn't think before opening his mouth. ”

“  I call bullshit on that rule! ”

“   The point is I have a cane and I’m not afraid to use it. ”

“   If you slap me, I’ll cane you. ”

“   Yippee for women. ”

“   FUCK THE PATRIARCHY ”

“   Sorry for being British. ”

“   Oi who's playing that ominous music? ”

“   I'm strong because I eat carrots. Oh wait or is that to see in the dark.... it's for something. ”

“   I will say sorry when i'm caught, don't you worry. ”

“   AND YOU CALLED ME UP AGAIN JUST TO BREAK ME LIKE A PROMISE! ”

“   ... He's done for. Broken beyond repair. Someone play Taylor Swift. ”

“   Please refrain from punching one another. ”

“   He is becoming one with the spider I believe. ”

“   If anybody asks I will say I made you, then you will not get in trouble! ”

“   Can I be a girlboss too? I am not rude to women and I do what i like ”

“   Yippee for patriotism! ”

“   … i could make you guys rat costumes ”

“   Do you think if we started stealing bread we would lose our jobs? ”

“   why do British people ”

“   … you all need therapy. ”

“   Do you ever feel if you breathe the wrong way he will bite you? ”

“   I actively avoid whatever this is. ”

“   CARRY ME. ”

“   What if, and hear me out, they both promise not to do it again? ”

“   I wanna steal all his socks. ”

“   My socks were stolen! ”

“   Hey, watch it now. Only I'm allowed to insult me. ”

“   You couldn’t whisper to save your life. It’s pitiful. ”

“   Both of you are insufferable. ”

“   The law is overrated. ”

“   I’m afraid. Miss, you aren’t my type. ”

“   No. I swear on my life. I am being a gentleman ”

“   I support women’s wrongs. ”

“   ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE!!! ”

“   GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW ”

“   He bites? Are you .. joking? Please say you're joking. ”

“   If you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain ifyou're not into yoga if you have half a brain if you like makin' love at midnight in the dunes on the cape then I'm the love that you've looked for write to me and escape 🎶🎶 ”

[elis-corner]

Multiple comfort hermits? feeling down mentally atm...

Anon, you sent this at the exact time I was reading comfort Hermit fics.

And yes I lost motivation halfway at one point, but two months later and I'm back XD

Hope you're okay, love <3 Enjoy the selection of Hermits decided on by my good pal Kat

Rendog

Ren considers some of his canine traits to be advantages. Entirely understandable. A superb sense of smell, sensitive hearing… who wouldn’t be appreciative? At least, as long as you’re not near Bdubs, sensitive hearing is great.

There are times when he finds himself appreciating them more, though.

Until you’d met Ren, it was only a myth in your eyes that dogs were extremely empathetic. It didn’t take long for your opinion to change.

He was the one you knew you could turn to for comfort and to have someone who’d just be there to sit and listen

It meant the world.

Sometimes, though, life throws things at you that are hard to handle, and it becomes a struggle to open up and be honest with others and yourself.

It’s times like that when Ren works his magic.

The moment he walks into your base he knows something is up You’re not bustling around, working or planning whatever new idea you’ve concocted. Instead, he can hear your quiet sniffles from a few rooms over.

Within a second he’s speeding in the direction of your voice, and the moment he finds you he’s sitting beside you, pulling you close so he can hug you

His grip is tight as he asks what’s wrong, the concern in his voice so painstakingly obvious that all your emotions begin to come flooding out.

He sits there and listens to you, tossing whatever assurance or compliment or opinion he feels you need. If it’s real bad he’ll pull out the jokes. If you don’t show a hint of a smile it’s innuendos from then on.

He doesn’t leave your side, even if you insist you’re feeling better, and if any other hermit offers to help instead it’ll become more persistentHe’s a bit possessive. Just a bit.

He can’t stand the idea of you being there alone, and though occasionally annoying, it’s more endearing than anything.

There have been incidents when he’s gotten a bit too worried, though…

‘I’m serious, Y/n! It’s alright! You can talk to me!’ ‘Ren, I’m not in the mood or state to have you over. I’m getting changed. Please, can you just lea–.’

Needless to say he believed you the next time you used that “excuse”.

Xisuma

Can I even begin to describe X finding out you’re not having a great time? The answer is I can.

Think concern, hugs, words of comfort, and lots of empathy and attention

Think of a sad puppy. That’s him. Without taking how jacked he is into consideration.

On one of his regular checkups making sure you’re okay he’s bound to have figured out something isn’t right

He won’t outright address it at first, instead giving you as much space and time as you need

If you don’t want to talk he won’t force you to

When you inevitably approach him, though, it’s all love and care for the next month or so.

Compliments, stories, hugs, little activities for the two of you to do together… anything to see you smile again 

It breaks his heart seeing you upset ❤️

Mumbo

Man doesn’t quite know what to do.

What if he makes it worse? What if it doesn’t help?

Mumbo is either going to do something small and sweet or huge and sweet.

Either way, there’s a 50% chance of it going wrong.

But that’s okay! It’s part of the charm! You laughing at him almost burning his base down was entirely part of his plan!

There’s not much to write since it could be summarised in a single sentence: He has no clue what to do, but the man’s trying his best *insert TBH creature face here*

Scar

mmmmmmmm the way he hums while he builds, the way he talks to himself, the weird little noises he makes when he takes too much fall damage or is jumped asdakjdahdkajshdaskjdh adorbs :sob (Note: this part was written by Kat but I’m leaving it here)

When you’re upset he doesn’t really understand the concept of personal space Prepare to be swaddled in blankets, love, comfort foods… whatever he can think to give you

If there’s something he thinks (or knows) you like, you can be sure as hell he’ll do it. He’ll sing your favourite songs, put on your favourite movie, go shirtless if you’re into that… anything for you.

Will Scar sit and listen? Of course! What else is he there for?

Jellie, being the best girl she is, leaves Scar’s side to snuggle with you. No scratching today, just adorable love.

Speaking of adorable love; the look of pure love and admiration Scar gives you while you talk. Man knows how to validate your feelings for sure.

If you’re still not happy after a day of treatment by Scar, don’t fall asleep. It may be a good thing to rest, but know that he’s going to ask either Cub or Grian for advice, and that’ll end in disaster.

By the end of it, you’ll be all laughs and giggles (or groans of annoyance), and Scar will be able to sleep easy knowing he made your day the slightest bit better.

[goodluckclove]

has anyone ever told you about how kind you are other writers? i'm telling you.

i'm in a bit of a block myself. i'm trying to write this -- dramatic opening, of sorts. but i just can't figure out how to word it. i need that *first line* for everything to flow out of me.

general itinerary: protagonist character is sitting in the lobby of a criminal organization they're no longer apart of, their old buddy pal friend in the organization sees them and is like "hey you shouldnt even know where this is" and then the protagonist is like "yeah well my friends told me about it" and then said friends blow the front door open and raid the place.

i just need like, a cool word or something. something to get that first sentence down. because then i know i'm gonna write myself something amazing.

I got it.

Cool words: Soliloquy, amicable, chartreuse. Three coolest words.

No I'm kidding. Wouldn't it be great if it was that easy, though?

Openings can be tricky. I kind of feel like some people push the concept of that killer opening line a little too hard. Like, if you can think of one that's great. Moby Dick has one. But I'm not about to read Moby Dick, you know?

For me, personally, I focus less on the opening line and more on the opening set piece. In my eyes when someone's considering a book on a shelf or on a screen you have a little more time to hook them in then the first sentence. I'd go as far as to say I give new writing a solid few paragraphs before I know if I'm down to keep reading.

So maybe the line doesn't have to be quotable on its own, but it starts contributing to a unique tone for the scene. And your opening scene sounds like a hook on its own - a clever misdirection from something seemingly casual to an exciting action scene. I think building up in terms of thematics could actually work in your favor.

Also, frankly, if you're working on a first draft you can always change the first line later. Who's going to stop you? God? God is busy. God's writing their own novel.

Free yourself, my friend. Focus less on a perfect first line and more on a solid intro scene. You don't walk into every new group of people with the intention to immediately land a perfect backflip. I mean, if you can - sick. But otherwise you can still make a friend.

We're friends and I've never seen you land a single goddamned backflip.

[cydanite]

The Scientific Method

Ao3 link:

Pix's fellow emperors weren't sure what to make of their friend flinging himself back into his work after the tea party. They were happy, of course, that the consequences of his strange death hadn't deterred him from his work. Pix loved what he did, it was clear to see. Uncovering mysteries big and small, learning of what had once been lost. None of the standard doom and gloom associated with ghosts had accompanied Pix's change. He was still the same old archaeologist, joyously engrossing himself in his empire's ruins.

But, that was strange too, right? Most people, upon dying and coming back a specter, would not immediately be so content. They would need time to process what had happened, to grieve what they have lost, to right themselves and prepare for the future. And Pix should be no different. He never struck them as a particularly resilient man. He was wise, certainly. But not so emotionally hardened as to let undeath roll right off his back. Right?

Yet as Oli flew over the capital's tallest hill, Pix was hard at work below him, taking careful measurements of stone foundations. He banked to land, circling in tight motions to slow his descent.

"My boy! My sweet history boy!"

Pix looked up, a smile breaking through the confusion on his face, and chuckled.

"Oli! Ahoy there!" he waved as Oli landed, skidded a few meters, kicking up dirt before coming to a complete halt. Safely grounded, he turned back to Pix with a grin. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Oh Pix, always a charmer." Oli waved him off in mock embarrassment. "Can't a guy check in on his buddy? His cool history friend? We're pals, we hang out! Y'know." He bounced with each sentence, shuffling his feet and waving his arms. "Not to distract you from your work, of course. Just for company!"

"Well," Pix turned back to the expanse of stone laid out before him. The groundwork for the castle he was carefully reconstructing. "I'm taking some measurements to confirm what I have here is accurate. I wouldn't want to start building only to realize I'd mistaken where a wall should be. You're welcome to keep me company if that isn't too dull."

"No, no, I love history! Big history guy!" Oli peered over Pix's work area. A journal was open next to him, flipped open to a top-down sketch of the castle grounds. Every coordinate, horizontal measure, and corner angle was annotated. The lines were thin and precise, tiny penmanship making the most of the space and crowding the paper in a sea of numbers. Over them, though, a scattered few corrections stood out like a sore thumb. Large, messy scrawl with uneven pressure and several blotches where the pen had slipped from his hands. The pen sat disregarded, half-submerged in the inkwell.

Oli shuffled on his feet. "Do you need any help, king? I could take notes for you if you'd like?"

Pix followed his gaze and smiled. "Not a king anymore but- thanks, Oli. That would make my work a lot easier. I, uh, still haven't got the fine motor skills figured out." He flexed a transparent hand before him, wiggling his digits. Oli picked the pen out of the inkwell and wiped the excess ink off of its stem, before sitting on the ground and placing the journal on his lap. Pix turned back around and resumed his measurements.

"You can flip to a new page and just write the measurements in a list. I'll transfer them to the plans later."

"Can do." The bard watched intently as the archaeologist fell back into his work, taking careful measurements of the lines of stone on the ground. The conversation lulled into the occasional back and forth of information.

“West gate western wall. Four meters.”

Oli turned away from softly tuning his lute and scribbled the numbers down. “Gotcha… hey, Pix?”

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say: You’ve been pretty gung-ho with your work recently! Really got that ‘go get-em’ attitude, despite-uh, the… complications?”

Pix is too far away for Oli to make out his expression, but there’s a few seconds pause before he responds.

“There’s been some growing pains, sure. But I enjoy what I do.” He peers over his tape again. “West gate western wall inset. Eighty-seven point five centimeters.”

“Eighty-seven… point five. Okay.” He holds the page up to the breeze to dry the ink. “...About those growing pains, I’m just curious-”

“Oli, you can just say you’re concerned about me, you know.”

“I’m trying to be tactful, Pixlriffs! You know I don’t have tact! All I have are my looks and the speech pattern of a poor Victorian orphan boy!” He stopped flailing the journal in his hands and set it down beside him for the sake of not flinging it down the hill. “You crumbled into dust! Dust, Pix! And now we can see through you, for Christ’s sake!”

“No need to remind me.” He gets up from his kneeled position on the ground, wiping the dirt from his hands and turning to face his friend. “I appreciate your concern, I really do. You’re a good friend. But I’m handling the situation.”

Oli crossed his arms. “Not by throwing yourself into your work, no?”

“No-” The usual warmth in his voice is gone for just a second. Pix pauses before steadying his voice again. “I’m not avoiding the problem, or coping poorly elsewise. I’m just… treating it as I would any other mystery I come across.”

“How so?”

Pix fiddles with the measuring tape in his hand, winding the cord around his fingers like a snake. “Well… first I set a question. What is the use of this artifact I found? How old are these carvings? What does it mean now that I’m a ghost?”

Pix wakes up in his bed back home, gasping for a breath he couldn’t take until now, adrenaline still welling inside of him. Once he realizes where he is and what just happened he doesn’t hesitate to throw on a spare elytra and zip through his nether portal. Though his hands fumble with his rockets, the flight back to Glimmer Grove gives him a few moments to calm down and think about what just happened. Had he just been caught? Was it a hidden assassin’s attempt to claim his crown? Maybe Glimmer Grove’s curse had suddenly exhibited a new and deadly effect?

And then he arrives, cautiously rounding the corner to speak with his fellow emperors, all huddled in a group on the stairs he’d just succumbed under. And when their eyes finally settle upon him, the horror they’re filled with makes his blood run cold.

Oli listens intently. “Alright, then what?”

“Then I hypothesize. Think about what direction I should take my research in.”

The tea party is decidedly over after this. Pix drifts away from the dispersing crowd, unease filling the empty space. It’s… he’s not gonna lie, it’s a lot. Sighing, he presses his palms to his temples, rubbing them. Something sharp makes him pull his hand away. Curiously, he feels around on his head and runs his hand over a few sharp points, and connecting those points is something shriveled and ashy. He traces the vines around his head, culminating at the sunflower he had placed in his hair. A petal falls into his hand, gray and withered. He goes back to the vines, feeling how they circle his scalp. The occasional larger thorn pointing upwards like a shark’s lower jaw. It’s almost as if… like it’s blocking him from… it would be impossible to wear the Crown like this, right?

The grave look he saw in Scott’s eyes replays in his mind.

Pix continues. “Next is research. Consulting my studies, my books.”

His floor is carpeted in scattered paper. Historical texts, maps, theses, investigative reports, legends, folktales. Anything that might mention the Crown in any capacity. A web of signs on the wall spout disjointed theories and leads. Several are dyed an approving green. Even more are dyed a discrediting red. He’s fairly certain that the Crown had killed him, though through what means he doesn’t know. An enchantment, perhaps? Or maybe a curse? Whatever it was, it did not want him putting it back on.

He hangs a sign on the wall. “Crown only allows those it deems worthy to wear it.” He steps back, thinks for a bit, and dyes the sign a cautious yellow.

Assuming the Crown had this effect before it was last sealed away in the Capital’s catacombs, what makes him different then its previous owners? After all, none of them wore it and withered away, as far as he knew. It would probably have to be something objective. Enchanting a crown meant to be transferred between owners with a subjective kill switch trigger would be incredibly dangerous. And if that was the intent, he’s surprised there isn’t any record of this curse in his books.

In that case, it would probably have to be that he isn’t royalty. He may be an emperor, i.e. the land he lives on gave him its blessing. And have the abilities that come with that, i.e. access to the magic of inventory, respawn, crafting. But being an emperor does not royalty make. He’s simply the caretaker of the Ancient Capital, one with no subjects to his name. Much like how Shelby acts as warden to The Evermoor, home to just her and a healthy population of frogs.

He places another sign on the wall. “Crown only allows royalty to wear it.” This one feels more solid. The crown was only meant to be worn by royalty, so a curse preventing non-royalty from wearing it doesn’t dissuade its purpose. It was extreme, yes, but so was the history of the Crown. A legacy of assassinations and betrayal. A well of dark emotions that stray magic could easily leech onto and, over a long enough period of time, solidify into a dangerous curse! It fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. The Crown is cursed to kill non-royalty. This curse wasn’t enchanted by a person, but by a pattern of events, so it isn’t deliberate or necessarily useful. Pix dyed the sign green.

Then a wire crosses in Pix’s brain. The curse isn’t deliberate. It’s crude, simple. If A, then B. If not royalty, then execute. Pix is both non-royalty and an emperor. He has access to the magic of an emperor. He can respawn.

The deathrattle curse of the Crown. An unstoppable force. The undying blessing of an emperor. An immovable object.

Both dead and alive. His breath hitches in his chest like a brick.

And so the logical conclusion.

Should he ever lose the Ancient Capital’s approval…

Oli sits back down, pulling his lute back into his arms and fiddling with the strings.

“Alright, I see where this is going. I’ve taken a science class before. Next is testing, right?”

Pix looked past him, staring down at something intangible behind Oli. He then turned back to his foundations, unspooling his measuring tape again.

“I’m in the middle of that now. West gate pillar footprint. One point two five meters squared.”

[a-writer-that-never-writes]

The Starline Heist

“Hand me the halfdiamond,” said Ebby.

Nik pulled the pick from the small pouch and handed it to him, “One of these day’s you’re gonna have to show me how you do it.”

“Fat chance,” grunted Ebby, “Damn, didn’t anyone teach these idiots how to oil a lock, I’m surprised this thing hasn’t seized up on them yet.”

“They probably think it’s safer for it to stick a little.”

“Give me a hammer and I’d have this thing off in too whacks, it’s rusted right through I tell ya.”

“Too loud,” sighed Nik, “It’s a nice idea though, I wouldn’t mind taking a hammer or maybe even a torch to this building.”

“We’ll torch them in court once we get those papers. Ahha, got it,” Ebby crackled with glee as the lock popped loose, “Your turn Niki old pal!”

Nik gently pried the front plate off the badge reader and looked at the tangle of wires inside, “Hmmm, I see why they used a physical lock, the print scanner on this thing is fried, anyone with a badge and code could just waltz right in.”

Ebby grinned, “Don’t suppose you have the badge and code do you?”

“Not yet actually, my contact wanted an exorbitant amount for them.” Nik fiddled with the wires, “that ought to work,” they held up a pair of white cards to the reader, “here,” they handed one to Ebby, “should get you through most doors.”

Nik quickly punched in a fake code, “one, two, three, four. Think you can remember that old man?”

Ebby shoved the card in his shirt pocket, “I got your number all right Niki boy, got a cloak for me?”

Nik pulled two lengths of fabric from their backpack, “here ya go, make sure not to stand still for too long or the AI will pick up on it.”

They each ducked under their own cloaks, adjusting them to ensure everything was well hidden.

“Here we go,” Nik opened the door and the two quickly slipped inside.  

The hall lights blinked on, “crap,” muttered Ebby.

“Hush, they’re old laser-style motion sensors, if the AI had seen us the alarms would already be blaring, so lets move quick.”

They headed down the hallway past several doors before Nik stopped, “here it is, Security Operations Center. Should be able to get everything we need from here.”

“That looks like a retina scanner,” Ebby said doubtfully.

Nik slowly pried the scanner away from the wall, “I can bypass it, it’s an older model…” they fell silent as they carefully rewired the machines' innards.  “Try badging in now.”

The door obediently unlocked as Ebby tapped his badge on the small reader and typed in the simple code.

The security center was lined with several rows of desks and even more rows of clear glass monitors.

“Place is like a ghost town,” Ebby muttered as the automatic light’s switched on, “How’d you get em all out of here at the same time?”

“Corporate Christmas party, just worked a little magic on who was scheduled to go and who wasn’t, simple really.”

“It’s all easy for you ain’t it kid,” Ebby was rifling through paper and checking in unlocked drawers, “you think you got it made. Just don’t go getting too cocky, that’s how you end up with a prison sentence longer than the ride to Pluto.”

“I’m sure you’ll keep me in line ol’ man.” Nick smiled. They had slid into a chair and plugged in a small device to the computer there, “Any luck finding the keys?”

“Starting to wonder if I’ll even need them, don’t think anyone taught these boys basic security,” Ebby strode over and dropped a small sticky note in front of Nik, “I believe you owe me a drink though.”

Nik rolled his eyes at the small piece of paper but diligently typed in the username and password written on it, “I’m in,” they grumbled and unplugged the small machine.  “People always take all the fun out of hacking.”

Ebby laughed, “somethings never change.  They’ll come up with a way to pull the password straight from your mind and people will still be writing them down and hiding them under keyboards.”

“They could atleast invent an invisibility cloak small enough to hide em with.”

“Sounds like a great idea, just hope it doesn’t fritz out the first time you look at it wrong.”

“They’ve come a long way, heard they’ve deployed some back on Earth that are almost entirely silent.”

Ebby gave a disbelieving grunt and went back to digging through drawers, pulling out his lockpicks as needed.

“Got us registered with the AI, it shouldn’t sound any alarms now,“ Nik shrugged off the static cloak and looked around for any flashing lights.

“Don’t suppose you set the camera’s on a loop to did ya?” Ebby asked.

Nik gave him a withering look and Ebby reluctantly slid down the hood of his cloak.

“You can never be too careful, alright.”

“How about you let me do my job and you do your’s, unless you’ve already found those keys?”

“Bah, they’ll  be in the last drawer I open, that’s how that always works.”

The two worked in silence for several minutes, interrupted only by Nik’s occasional curses as the computer failed to let them into one program or another.

“Got em,” Ebby said, dusting off his knees as he stood up, “I’m getting too old for this sort of thing.”

“Find us another job as good as this and you’ll have enough money to retire.”

Ebby chuckled, “it’ll be here sooner than you think, Nik. Ready to go get those papers?”

“I’m elevating the access for that badge, tap it here,” Nik motioned to a small card reader, “alright you should be good to go.”

“You’re not coming along?”

“Shouldn’t need me and I’d like to take a poke around their datacenter.”

“Be careful.”

“You too ol’ man, remember these papers aren’t worth getting killed over.”

Ebby nodded and slipped back under his static cloak before heading out into the hall.  Once Nik had confirmed that no alarms were going to go off they headed over to the one other door in the room.  

“Hello, Beautiful,” they said as they badged in and opened the heavy steel door. Heat and noise blasted forth from the cluttered room, “Oh…, Well that explains the slow connections.” The room was filled with two rows of ceiling height metal server racks connected by a jungle of cables and cords.

Nik pulled out their laptop and stepped gingerly through the mess of wires, pausing occasionally to plug a tiny device into an open port.

“Ahah, now you might have something useful,” Nik followed the cables from one server until they found an empty line and plugged it into their laptop, “username and password? Let’s just pretend I’m the admin why don’t we? And we’re in, really, it’s too easy.”

Nik tapped away at the keyboard for several minutes, mumbling to themselves about poor security practices. “It really isn’t my fault they just left the back door wide open is it? Ooo, what’s this file? Oh.” 

Nik sat down hard on the ground.

The door to the security room clicked shut, “You almost done in there?” called Ebby, he poked his head into the server room, “you alright Nik? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Fine,” Nik stuttered, “just found some real interesting data.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’ll, um, show you later, Eb.”

Ebby eyed him curiously, “How much longer you need?”

Nik nodded, “ I just gotta get this stuff downloaded, should only take a few minutes. You go ahead though, I’ll meet you at the usual spot.”

“We’ve done a lot of good work together, yeah Nik?”

Nik hummed their agreement.

“Well I’ll see ya in a bit yeah?” Ebby hesistated, “Don’t wait to long, Nik, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“Me too.”

Nik slammed the laptop shut and shoved it into their bag as soon as they heard the security center door close.

“What’s your game ol’man?” they muttered to themselves as they weaved back out through the jungle of cables.  They gave a cursory glance at the security monitors to make sure that the coast was clear and then strode out into the hall.

Nik, stopped.  The exit at the end of the hall was open, and just on the other side, lit by the wavering light of a streetlamp was the slumped over body of Ebby. “Shit”

The light outside shifted. 

A shiver ran up Nik’s spine as the gentle click of the door closing was drowned out by the loud thud of heavy machinery. Their eyes darted around the hall, trying to make out the slight shimmer in the air made by the invisibility suit.

“Stay calm,” they muttered to themselves, trying to fight down the urge to turn and run, “you need a plan.”

There was a loud click, as of a gun loading.

Nik dove back into the security room just in time to avoid the gunfire.  They shoved one of the light weight desks against the door.

“Shit, think, Ebby told you all about these damn machines.”

Nik looked hopelessly around the room for anything of use. The machine thudded slowly down the hall.

“What was it he always said about the older machines? You could hear them coming a mile away? Great yeah, well I figured that out on my own.”

Nik backed away from the door till they reached the datacenter.  They grabbed the handle and cursed as it sparked. “These guys are gonna fry their machines.” Nik stared at the handle, tentatively reaching out to touch it again, this time without the spark.

A loud thud outside the door was all the urging Nik needed to put their half formed plan into action.  As their pursuer tried to bash open the locked door Nik yanked a pair of cables haphazardly out of servers and drug them out into the security center.  They did their best to toss them onto either side of the entrance.  As the door crashed open in a burst of splinters Nik shoved the ends of the cables into a power bank and dove behind a set of desks.

Nik held their breath, the suit whirred and clicked as it looked around the room.

“Think you can hide?” said a distorted voice, “think you can outrun me?”

There was a thud as the suit stepped inside the room.  Nik glanced over at the gray wall panel by the door.

“If you come out now I’ll make your death quick, just like I did for your partner.”

There was a crash as a desk was lifted up and tossed across the room.

“I gotta say you got balls, trying to steal from Starline, I respect that, I really do.”

Nik scrambled out of the way as one of the desks came crashing down on their hiding spot.  They could see the wavering light of the invisibility suit only a few yards away.

“Ah there you are”

They carefully stood, their legs shaking, “Why'd you kill the ol’man? It was a good setup. A fake heist. Starline gets the reward for catching another hacker. Somehow I don’t think getting murdered is part of the deal that ol’ Ebenezer struck.”

The disembodied voice laughed, “He said you were smart. But thats the problem with you smart types, always get too cocky for your own good. You’re so easy to fool.”

Nick tried to put desks between them and the machine, slowly inching back towards the door.

“You see I figure that catching both of you will be worth twice the reward. If he'd of had half the brains you do he’d of seen that and backed out on the whole heist.”

Nick bumped into the wall, their hand flung out to a small panel and popped it open. There was a click as the machine's gun reloaded.

“You see the problem with you smart types is sometimes you're too smart for your own good”

Nick flung open the breaker box and flipped the switches, power crackled through the cables and arced up along the invisibility suit lighting it up in a flash of blinding light.

There was a loud pop as the fuses blew and then silence fell on the now dark room. Nik blinked away the after image.

“You forget that older models of invisibility suits were terribly unreliable.  Turns out they’re incredibly difficult to insulate against electricity.”

The back out power kicked on, lighting the room in a somber red. They looked over the large multifaceted machine, it looked more like a misshaped disco ball than the cutting edge of technology.

Nik carefully edged out of the room, looking keenly down the hall for any other potential ambushes. Outside Ebby was slumped in a puddle of his own blood.

“It’s really a shame ol’ man, I liked working with you. I really did.” Nik rolled the corpse over and fished in the pockets till he found the set of lock picks and a tattered wallet, “I guess you’ll be the one buying this round of drinks after all.”

[anonbinaryweirdo]

incorrect quotes ft. Moon, Polya, Zeph, n Ari + Luci, Angel, Adam, n Vox

Moon: *is visibly upset*

Angel: Moon, what happened? I haven't seen you like this since you found out candyland wasn't an actual country.

-

Ari: I will send my army to attack!

Ari: *releases a dumpster of raccoons*

-

Ari: What do we think of Moon?

*pause*

Zephyrine: *sighs* Nice pal.

Angel: I think they're gay.

-

Moon: Hey Ari, can I get some icecream?

Ari: Only a spoonful!

Moon: *Proceeds to pull out a comically large spoon.*

-

Ari: Well, has Adam been wrong before?

Zephyrine: How wide are we willing to open this up?

-

Ari: Do you want to be the Sun in my life?

Moon: Yes.

Ari: Good, then stay 92,935,700 miles away from me :)

-

Zephyrine: Didn't you die?!

Ari: That was weeks ago, dude. Things change.

-

Polya: Can I ask you for a favor?

Zephyrine: I would literally die for you, but continue.

Polya: We need to talk about you starting sentences that way.

-

Polya: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one.

Zephyrine: Break one of their bones instead, they have 206 of them.

-

Zephyrine: Sorry, who are you?

Ari: Oh, I’m Ari.

Zephyrine: Oh yeah, I’ve heard about you from Polya.

Zephyrine: Are you their friend or something?

Ari: No.

Ari: I’m their therapist.

-

Moon/Ari: Wait, what's going on? Are we all talking about how hot Vox is? Because Vox is a straight up sexual fox riding a red-hot nuclear bombshell right toward the yowza plaza in the heart of Babe City, Assachusetts, U S A. The last A just stands for more ass.

-

Adam: *pitches an idea*

Ari, impressed: Huh, there might be something here!

Lucifer, under their breath: Yeah, a lawsuit.

-

Zephyrine: So... who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon?

Ari: We're chopsticks!

Zephyrine: Well... that's cute!

Zephyrine: Does that mean you two snuggle together perfectly?

Vox: No, it means that if you take the other away, the only thing the other is good for is stabbing.

-

Adam, working at McDonald's: Sorry sir, we don't serve a McFuck here, so either you throw that one slice of pickle out or we're gonna have a McProblem.

-

Ari: *shoves their hand in the slot of a toaster*

Moon: …

Ari: …I get confused sometimes.

Moon: Me too.

-

Vox: Okay, but if you're not gay then why are you always holding my hand and kissing me and telling me I’m your boyfriend?

Moon/Ari: Dude- Its satire!

Vox: THAT'S NOT WHAT SATIRE MEANS!

-

[judasrpc]

PALIA SENTENCE STARTERS

based on the mmorpg 'palia' developed by singularity 6. add context & change gendered language to your needs !! if multi, please specify which muse(s) !!

Welcome to the general store, pal.

[…] so I guess I should say: welcome to the livin'!

Come back when you get some cash, we'll take care of your needs.

The more you spend, the more you get back. Trust me. That's just how the world works.

What can I do for you?

Make the most out of each day, my friend.

Here I was thinking you'd be too busy setting up to say 'hello'. How goes it?

Are you new in town, or just passing through?

There's something about you that just brightens up my day.

I have a good feeling about today.

I don't know about you, but I'm starting to get sleepy.

So, I think it's safe to say my job is about to get A LOT more interesting.

Are you off on an adventure?

Today is a great day for adventure! Well… any day is a great day for adventure. But today is especially good.

What ails you, my four-legged friend?

You've got a surprise for me?

I wish I knew what you were saying…

Well, if it isn't another friend I haven't met yet!

Hey there! The day treating you alright?

I don't know it [name] was laughing with me or at me, but either way, I appreciate the chuckle.

Tonight, I'm feeling exuberant, with a bit of nostalgic ennui mixed in.

I don't need your company… but it would certainly be appreciated.

Relaxed… I envy you. I don't think I've ever felt relaxation.

It pleases me to see your thirst for knowledge is so difficult to quench.

Back again, are we?

Your mischief and wit know no bounds, neither does your desire for knowledge.

Even the most cunning hunter needs a helping hand once in a while. You hear me? If you ever need help, all you have to do is ask.

You showed up just in time.

I like you and all, kid, but there ain't nobody who can stop me from bein' me.

So, how are you feeling? I am sure this is quite a lot to take in.

Keep that positivity, and you'll overcome any troubles the world offers you.

I was just settling in for my evening meditation. Care to join me?

Name's [name], but you can call me trouble.

I see that look on your face. Up to no good, aren't ya?

Let me guess: You were just dying to see me.

Just so y'know, our doors are always open for ya.

So nice to talk to someone who wants to listen… between you and me, with the kids, it's always in one ear and out the other.

There's nothin' like the feelin' of a job well done.

Some people think it’s boring all the way out here… But I like it.

It is way too early… or did I stay up too late?

You might want to stand back. I’m working on my latest invention, and I’m not entirely sure this thing is stable.

You look as though you have something you’d like to ask.

I chose to keep them around for mostly sentimental reasons.

These daily chats of ours bring me much peace. Please continue to come by, I would miss it if they stopped.

I’m also good at lifting heavy stuff, if you need anything heavy lifted!

You lost? That's okay, I get lost sometimes too.

Oh… sorry I didn’t see you there. I was just a bit distracted. Seems to happen to me a lot…

I am just an intrepid explorer of the supernatural, a detective of the unseen divine, a pioneer of pervasive thought…

I am glad you are still able to experience joy after everything you’ve gone through.

Hello, hello! You have caught me at just the right time.

All it’s taught me so far is how to die of boredom. So stop by again later and keep me entertained, ok?

Are you just going to stand there staring at me, or did you have something to say?

Sometimes I forget how interesting the world is. Like, I’m pretty sure I saw a gnarly looking beetle over there!

Aren’t we feeling bold today?

Oh, good. Someone to talk to who DOESN’T give me a splitting headache.

This had better be important…

I was so caught off guard, I realized I forgot to introduce myself or explain why I'm here.

Why don't you come back when my head's spinning just a little less?

It's good to see you again! I always look forward to seeing your face. But you know, like a normal amount.

It is… good to see you. Why was that so hard to say?

Perhaps you should learn to become more comfortable with solitude yourself.

Oh no, I know that look.

I'm presently ruminating on the darkness of the soul.

I do fear where my thoughts might go if I linger here alone too long…

Unfortunately, I returned with many new ideas and no new direction.

Beyond that, you shall have to answer the question of "what you are" for yourself. As do we all.

You were bound to return one day… why not today?

For now, I enjoy basking in the presence of others.

Hmm… What should I make for dinner tonight…?

You’re talkin’ to me?

Been makin’ a name for yourself lately. Every time I go into town, someone’s singin’ your praises.

[good-beanswrites]

Director's commentary for "I prefer to not be disturbed"?

Starting here, perhaps, since the fic is over 500 words.

Kotoko grits her teeth. She doesn’t plan on harming Amane as she did the others

Aw yeah! This is definitely one that doesn't quite stand up to canon anymore, but my justifications for little details still hold up!! Thanks pal :3

Kotoko grits her teeth. She doesn’t plan on harming Amane as she did the others -- she would never raise a hand to a child (despite what she told her about avoiding special treatment.) Still, the girl needs to be taught a lesson. Kotoko is a vessel for justice. She has been chosen. She will not be turned away so easily.

*siiiigh* So I did think Kotoko had it in her to attack Amane when I wrote this -- the problem was, the original ask had a lighthearted/comedic tone, and I wanted to go for a lighthearted/comedic tone. And. There's no way to casually drop child abuse in a comedy piece. I had to find a compromise for this piece, and this was my solution 😅 I thought it would work to have Kotoko threaten Amane that she wouldn't hold back because she's a child, but deep down Kotoko knows she couldn't really do it.

(And as much as I enjoy reading Kotoko as she will justify any means to the ends, to be fair, this could still be true to canon -- she could have just told Es those things to keep up her reputation, but we don't know what she'd actually do under pressure...)

“Momose Aman--”

The door opens a crack from the other side.

I rarely write in present tense but sometimes it just really works. I tried it out for the urgency and action of this one, and thought it fit well. And then proceeded to mess up the tense every other sentence. I think I caught them all by the time I posted it...

"I prefer not to be disturbed."

Amane looks up, her expression making it clear she has already been disturbed. Kotoko’s fierce red eyes are startled by the gaze looking up at her.

There's nothing scarier than a righteous twelve year old that you've upset -_-

“Well,” Kotoko shifts so she can see the blood that flecks her clothes. She can get a good look at her boots, and her raw knuckles. Amane sizes her up, her purpose becoming clear. “I --”

“You will need to come back later.”

Kotoko's brow furrows. She doesn’t have time to come back later. She can already hear Kazui collecting himself from where she’d left him with Fuuta. She wasn't prepared for any of this.

Can you 'hear' someone collecting themself? Probably not, but I kept bumping into the problem where Kotoko needed to know time was running out without Kazui directly charging at her 😅 I liked the idea of an incredibly efficient Kotoko, that she'd be a bit frazzled when things don't go according to her meticulous plan. As adaptable as she seems, I bet she thinks far enough ahead to plan for any derailment..... and this was not one she expected. I liked the humor in Amane instantly throwing Kotoko off of literally everything she'd prepared.

“Er... You have been named guilty. Your...” She clears her throat. “Milgram has named you guilty of an unforgivable murder.”

“Milgram is wrong.”

Amane’s voice is unwavering. Her eyes went from mild frustration to a pinpointed rage.

(RIP I didn't catch all the tense issues.... I actually think this was meant to be "had gone" and I thought I could swap it with the less wordy "went" since her expression changed while Kotoko was talking, not after Amane's line. Anyway.)

Kotoko had just listened to Mahiru’s cries that this was all a mistake, though the woman accepted her judgment quickly. She’d heard Fuuta’s excuses and denials, showing nothing but an immature rejection of what he’d done. But the way that Amane rejected her verdict, Kotoko was actually inclined to believe her.

No, she would not be mislead. She was not mistaken. She was here to bring only righteousness. She was here to administer punishments.

I enjoyed the idea of all the guilties having similar excuses that "Milgram got it wrong, I did nothing wrong", but Amane is the only one who truly believes it. (I think out of everyone, she's really the only one with absolutely no doubt in her mind that she's in the wrong.) Because she believes it's the truth as she says it, it makes it convincing to others as well.

“I am here to--”

“-- you are here to disturb me. I refuse to be taken from my studies.”

Amane squares her shoulders. She starts rolling up her sleeves.

Kotoko knows better than to mess with a young woman with that kind of fire in her eyes.

Now we have Lucky, but at the time I was just thinking about Kotoko herself. She remembers a time when she was that age, likely with similar drive and anger. She knows the kind of damage she could have caused at that age, and doesn't want to test that out with Amane.

Also, I think it's pretty 50/50 of Amane actually mad about being interrupted and defending herself from a clear threat. She's letting Kotoko know she'll fight back, but she genuinely is very annoyed that her activity/focus was interrupted.

She gets the feeling that even if she doesn’t take things too far, Amane will. That was not part of her grand plan of delivering justice.

I tried to use loose wording here -- "even if," "wasn't part of her plan" -- to show that Kotoko is still very capable of attacking Amane, it's just not her plan at the moment.

She straightens. “...I understand.”

She hears Kazui is nearly recovered. She thinks she hears Shidou’s voice as well. Too much time has been spent here, with no easy resolution. There’s one more prisoner she must deliver punishment to -- one whose verdict was the absolute clearest to the warden. He should be her true priority.

I liked hearing theories about whether guilty ratio or just prisoner number affected Kotoko's order of attack (reference not intended), so I usually go with the idea that the voting ratio was reflected in Es' personality when they made the decision. The rest of the prison can tell that Es was most sure about Mikoto's guilty verdict, and least sure about Amane's, hence Kotoko's view that he was far more of a threat than her.

Kotoko steps back. “You will see the error in your ways in due time. But for now, I’ll leave you to it.”

Amane’s hard set expression doesn’t change. She gives a curt bow. “Or, perhaps you will. Thank you.”

Even when threatened, she remembers her manners ;-; I wanted this to be a funny line, of them pleasantly saying "thank you :) goodnight :)" after such an intense moment, but on a serious note, I think Amane is conditioned to use her manners in the face of even the meanest adults...

Kotoko doesn’t lose another moment hurrying to the neighboring cell. She spares a single glance over her shoulder. She just has to be sure those intense green eyes are off of her. Amane shoots her one more look before shutting the door.

After exhaling a little sigh -- not out of relief, if anyone were to ask -- she pounds three times on the next cell.

Although this line was mostly for a nice comedy ending, I do think out of everyone, Kotoko wouldn't underestimate her. She wouldn't necessarily be afraid like this, but she would 100% know to take the girl's anger and capability very seriously 👍

And I mentioned it in the tags of the original but I can definitely see Kazui and Shidou figuring out Kotoko's plan, finding the victims she left in the previous guilty cells, and bursting into Amane's cell to meet her Even Worse anger at being disturbed again, by Shidou of all people...

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Bonuses For Fifteen Points

Steven Grant X GN!Reader Rating: 18+ pals  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Summary: You and Steven settle in for a comfy night in front of the TV watching quiz shows. But it's not too long before your mind starts to… wander.

Warnings: Swearing! Typossss! Fragment sentences! (the big three) oral (m receiving), idiots in love, finger sucking, slighty subby steven?

A/N:  ‘Only Connect’ and ‘University Challenge’ are quiz shows that are usually on Monday nights on BBC 1 in the UK. I don’t know why I am obsessed with the idea that Steven regularly watches and enjoys these shows, but I am. So I thought I would make it everyone else’s problem as well.

Word Count: 2818

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem

_______________________________________________

Mondays were always a particularly difficult day. The metaphorical start to the week, the beginning of the grind, the day everyone hated. And even though technically Steven’s rota changed regularly, and he was routinely scheduled in to work weekends, it still felt like Monday was the beginning. It just had that taste to the air. 

Monday evenings, however, were a much different story. 

A low buzz of excitement settled in his stomach as he busied himself in the kitchen. He had practically run home, (part of him was pretty sure that he would have beaten the bus and the regular dismal London traffic if he had been on foot), showered and quickly hoovered around the flat. 

He’s last seen you on Friday morning, not that long ago relatively speaking, a rushed breakfast and quick kisses before both of you had to part ways and make the journeys to work. Hell, Steven had spoken to you on the phone yesterday, you had both sent each other messages today, but still it seemed like an age since he had held you in his arms. 

The weekend had dragged. Work on Saturday had moved at a snail’s pace, Sunday had seemingly existed outside of space and time. Perhaps it was because you had been in Lincoln visiting friends, the physical distance between the both of you warping reality itself. 

But it wouldn’t be long now before you’d be here. Before he could finally see you in person. 

Steven stirred the pasta sauce absentmindedly, trying to focus and not let his mind wander too much. He turned the heat down slightly just as his phone buzzed. 

‘Sorry! Running late! ☹’ 

His heart sank. 

It didn’t matter, not really, the dinner would keep. He’d still see you, he’d-

His phone buzzed again: ‘Stupid lift isn’t working. Just taking the stairs.’

Steven frowned. Wait, were you talking about his building's lift? 

He turned the hobs off completely and walked to the door, typing as he went.

‘Which lift?’ He deleted the message before he sent it, unhappy with the tone. ‘My lift?’

He deleted it again, one hand on the door latch when there was a knock. 

He flinched back ever so slightly at the sudden sound before quickly checking the peep hole, and then promptly flung the door open when he caught a glimpse of you. 

“Hello Ste-”

He was on you in a second, squeezing the air out of your lungs with his tight embrace. 

You laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m all sweaty!”

“I don’t care.” Steven mumbled against your neck as he hugged you tighter. 

You giggled again as you untangled yourself from his limbs, quieting his small wine of protest with kisses. 

“Oh love!” He pulled away, his warm hands holding yours. “You’re freezing!”

You shrugged, beaming at him in a dopey lovesick way that you couldn’t help. “I forgot my gloves.”

“No,” he guided you into the flat, closing the door with his hip while he never let go of your hands, placing kisses along your knuckles and holding them as close as he could. Seemingly trying to warm them as quickly as possible by sheer force of will. 

“It’s fine, you know me. Sweaty face from walking up some stairs, freezing hands.” 

“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

You shook your head and grinned. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He kissed you again, softer and slower than before. 

.

Steven finished and plated up the pasta, while you showered and changed, before you both ate in front of the television for your traditional Monday night. 

Watching Only Connect and University Challenge.

Steven was naturally better at quizzes than you, seeing the patterns in the sequences round with an almost uncanny lightning speed. 

You loved it. Loved seeing his nose wrinkle in thought, the way his eyes grew wide and his excited hand movements when the answer came to him. Loved him.

In all honesty, you probably spend more time watching Steven than the shows. 

Occasionally you teased him a little about his not so subtle crush on the host, Victoria Coren Mitchell, and giggling when he teased you back about your less than subtle crush on her as well. 

“You should go on there you know.”

“What?” He shifted a little so that he could look at you better. 

After eating you had both ended up laying on the settee. Your head on his chest with his arm wrapped around you. 

You looked up at him. “You could go on Only Connect.”

Steven pulled a face. “Me? A contestant? I don’t think so.”

 “You’d be amazing!”

He shook his head, but you could see the hint of pink on the edges of his ears. 

You dug him gently in the side. “You would.”

“You need three people.”

“They do that thing where people make teams out of people who want to go on.”

He made a dismissive sound. 

You paused and then grinned, leaning a bit closer to his face, all conspiratorial. “You could ask Victoria for a kiss when you win.”

Without warning Steven’s hand that had been resting pleasantly on your side attacked your ribs, tickling you mercilessly. You squealed and swatted him away, still laughing. 

As you settled back down on his chest you poked your tongue out at him. He poked his out right back. 

“I could ask her to give you a kiss.” He muttered, trying to hide his smile.

You didn’t look up at him. “I think you should.”

Steven giggled loudly.

.

You didn’t like University Challenge as much as Only Connect. It wasn’t so much the topics of the questions, as much as the matter in which the questions were said were a riddle in themselves. 

You often thought teams should get points just for working out what was being asked in the first place. 

That was most of the reason why your mind started to... wander a little. 

You couldn’t focus on what Jeremy Paxman was saying or what Imperial College and some tiny off branch of Cambridge were replying. 

All your mind was filling up with was the fact that you hadn’t held Steven at all over the weekend, hadn’t touched his skin or heard him moan.

Small prickles of heat tiptoed along your skin, you bit your lip and looked up at him. 

He was watching, enwrapped, his fingernail between his teeth as he listened intently to the questions being asked. 

A wicked little thought crept into your mind. 

Slowly, ever so slowly as not to alert Steven to your plan, you inched your way upwards closer to your prize. 

He didn’t notice until almost the last second, your mouth tantalisingly close to the sweet spot on Steven’s neck: just below his ear. 

“Love, what-”

He cut himself off with a shuddered breath as you pressed your lips against him. Grazing his skin with your teeth before kissing and sucking hard just the way he liked it.

Steven let out a sharp moan, his body instinctively curling in towards you, his left hand gripping hard at your hip. 

You put your hand on his face gently. Just enough pressure so that he bared his neck more fully as you continue to kiss and bite. 

Arousal shivers down his spine and pools in his abdomen, his cock already half hard. 

“Love, oh, fuck.” 

You feel his little jolts of pleasure as you suck on his pulse point, bruises already forming under your actions. 

He bucks upwards instinctively, trying to reach friction that isn’t there. 

Steven doesn’t care about you leaving marks. Wait… that’s actually a lie. He does care. He cares too much. He wants them. Craves them. Needs them so, so much. 

The second time you had sex you had apologised for the love bites that you had littered across his neck. 

Steven had cut you off as quickly as he could, blurting out his words in a rush for fear you wouldn’t leave them again. He had told you how much he liked them, liked other people seeing them. Especially at work. He liked people knowing he was yours. 

He wines, shifting and trying to turn his body towards you more so that he can grind against you. But you lean down against his shoulders, pushing him back against the settee as you continue your onslaught of his senses. 

You tilt his jaw even more to the side with your hand and Steven darts out his tongue against your fingertips, unable to keep quiet. 

He’s wrecked already, skin flushed and hair a mess. His eyebrows pinched together, eyes screwed shut as he squirms under your touch, desperate for more. 

You kiss up to his ear, biting gently at the lobe and he gasps. 

“Love, pleaaase.” He draws out the word between pants of breath. 

He is achingly hard now, his cock straining against his jogging bottoms. You brush the edge of your thigh against it teasingly and Steven sobs. 

“Please!”

You can’t deny him when he asks so prettily. But still you can’t help but tease.

“Please what?” You whisper between slow, light kisses. Barely touching your lips to his skin.

“Pleaaaase,” he moans again as you continue to just rub your leg against him. Enough pressure for him to feel it, but not enough to relieve any of the ache. It burns worse, a fire ignited under his skin.

Steven lets out a choked sob when you suck against his neck once more, the pressure of your teeth sending spikes of heat along his spine. 

You push lightly against his jaw, giving yourself easier access and resting your fore and middle fingers on his plump bottom lip. 

Steven’s tongue darts out, flicking against the skin between your fingers before taking them mouth into his mouth and moaning around them. 

Your actions falter for a second as he sucks on them, spit running down his chin as he takes them as deeply as they can go. Bobbing his head and running his bottom teeth along the underside. 

You lick a strip up his neck and nip softly below his ear. “Is that what you want?” You whisper, voice low and molasses slow. 

Steven moans low, the vibrations running along your fingertips, his eyes screwed tight as he bucks up towards you. 

“Hmmm?” You press your thigh fully against his crouch. “Is that what you need?” 

He lets out another choked sob around your fingers, arching his back off the settee into your touch so he can grind himself against you. 

You watch him for a moment, savouring the sight of him. His head thrown back, the tension in his neck and the dark bruises on his skin. Before you suddenly move away.

Steven sobs at the loss of contact, his eyes fluttering open. 

However he doesn’t get a chance to speak, all too quickly you are just easing up his top so that you can kiss the hot skin just above his jogging bottoms and nuzzle his left hip bone. 

He jumps a little at the swipe of your tongue but groans and arches into your touch. 

You pull down his waistband just enough so that his cock springs free, slapping against his lower stomach. The sight of it makes your mouth water and Steven sighs as you take him in your hand.

Precome shines in the weak light and you lap it up eagerly, pressing your tongue flat against the tip of him and swiping along his slit achingly slow. 

You can feel the tension in his stomach and legs, the small twitches of muscle as he fights to keep himself still as you continue to lick unhurriedly, swirling your tongue around the head and then back to teasing his slit. 

The sweet little hitches of Steven’s breath are like music to your ears. You break away from your actions only to better position yourself and lick the long path back from the root of him to the tip, one hand holding his length, the other massaging his balls.

Heat is pooling in his abdomen, the familiar pressure beginning to spike. 

Steven shifts onto his elbows so that he can watch as you slowly take him into your mouth, tortuous in your movement as you bob up and down, swallowing more of his cock with each dip. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he doesn’t realise he’s muttering under his breath, swearing as if the words were a prayer. 

It’s so warm, so wet, so perfectly overwhelming that it pushes all thoughts out of his head, leaving his mind quiet save for the painfully delicious building of bliss.

You glance up at him, watching him watching you. His eyes are dark, gaze unfocused and mouth open. His chest shudders with each intake of air as he stares at his cock disappearing into you. 

You increase your pace, sucking him harder and taking him so deep that tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. 

Pleasure cracks down on him, flares along his limbs as he moans loudly, swearing and bucking up into your mouth, just managing to stop himself from pushing too far. He falls back, head against the armrest, holding onto the sofa cushions for dear life. 

“Love please, oh fuck, oh god,” words pour out of him, “so good, please, you take me so-so, fuck, I,” he’s not paying any attention to what he’s saying, to anything, other than the sweet torment of your mouth and hands. 

He’s going to come soon, he can’t help it, his thighs starting to shake. 

You can tell by his whimpers, the way his eyes are tight shut in pleasure and-

“Which Egyptian queen of the fourteenth century BCE was the wife of the Pharaoh Akhenaten, and is believed by some scholars to have reigned briefly in her own right after her husband's death?”

“Neferneferuaten Nefertiti...” Steven mutters between a moan, not even realising he’s said it. 

“Neferneferuaten Nefertiti.” One of the contestants answers. 

“Correct.”

You pull away from Steven with a pop, unable to hold back your laugh. 

His eyes snap open, the pleading look on his face quickly jumping to confusion and then, “did- did I just answer a...?”

You nod, grinning wildly. 

Red sears into his cheeks and the tops of his ears, panic flooding his features. “Love, I’msosorryIdon’tknowwhyIdidthatIwasjustlostinthemomentI-”

You dive back on him, chasing all other thoughts away as you swallow him down and set a brutal pace.

His hand flies to the back of your head, fingers tight in your hair but not pushing or pulling as his tip hits the back of your throat again and again and again.

Curses race past his lips between the moans and stuttered sorrys. 

His orgasm builds ridiculously fast, your mouth bringing him to the edge and threatening to pull him over as Steven tries to retain some control over himself. 

He can barely get his words out, “I’m, I’m,”

You hum around him, not slowing for a second, and scratch your nails along his thighs. 

Steven comes loudly with a snap of his hips, coming hard into your mouth as you eagerly swallow around him, drinking down every last drop. 

All the tension leaves his body at once, leaving him jellified under you. 

Slowly you ease off of him, giving the tip of his cock a final lick to make sure you cleaned up all of his release before tucking him back into his jogging bottoms. 

You run your hands along his arms as you sit up, gently massaging his muscles as he comes back to himself. 

His breathing evens out and he blinks heavily, gazing up at you. 

“That was,” 

You don’t let him get the words out as you kiss him lightly. Steven moans and moves up with you as you try to move away, cradling the back of your neck with his hands and bringing you back down to his mouth. 

You smile and deepen the kiss, letting him taste himself on your tongue. 

“I’m sorry I answered a question while you were sucking me off.” He mutters.

The bluntness of his words, and the genuine sincerity behind them, make you giggle. You kiss him again before pressing your forehead against his. 

“I think it’s very sexy of you.”

Steven snorts, but at least he’s smiling now. 

“I think we’ll have to make it more interesting next time.” You mutter. He gives you a quizzical look and you grin wickedly, a dark light shining in your eyes. 

“You’ll answer the questions, and if you get one wrong I’ll slow down.”

Steven stares blankly back at you, and for a moment you think he doesn’t understand. It’s not until you see a familiar flush on his skin and hear the little increase in his breathing that you realise it’s the opposite. 

You bite your lip. “You’d like that?” 

Steven nods rapidly, so much he almost becomes a blur.

[virusinfected-memes]

HEY ARNOLD, SEASON 1 SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 1 OF 6 ;

E01 - ❛ Downtown As Fruits / Eugene’s Bike ❜ and E02 - ❛ The Little Pink Book / Field Trip ❜ // 70 starters. CW: violence. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed!

“Do vegetables have souls?”

“_____, what’s your motivation?”

“If anybody’s late, they’re gonna have to answer to Old Betsy.”

“Let’s hurry or we’ll miss the bus!”

“Man, this is humiliating.”

“In a few hours, the entire student body will be laughing at us.”

“I can’t believe we have to do this.”

“Did you hear something just now?”

“You know what it is. Just take it.”

“Those shoes really pull your look together.”

“I’m a ham, you know I am.”

“I ate nothing but dairy products for two weeks!”

“How I love you… And yet I hate you! And yet I love you!”

“Who enters the realm of the great [sender’s name]?”

“There is a disturbance in your karmic energy field.”

“Wow, people downtown sure are friendly.”

“I’m ruined! Ruined!”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I got a new scab. If you squint real hard, it looks like Texas.”

“I guess every dork has his day.”

“It was an accident, _____. I’m really, really sorry.”

“Man, I feel terrible about this, _____.”

“You didn’t have to do this, _____.”

“Wow, _____. You’re a pal.”

“I brought you some candy to make it up to you.”

“Look, _____, somehow I’m gonna make it all up to you. I don’t know how yet, but I’m gonna do it. You’ll see.”

“_____ just ripped his pants wide open.”

“What happened to your voice?”

“I’m gonna take you out for one full day where nothing bad happens at all.”

“All I wanted to do was pay you back for the trouble I’ve caused you.”

“Everything just seems to go wrong.”

“I guess this wasn’t such a good day after all.”

“Y’know, nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank you enough.”

“This has been one of the best days I’ve ever had.”

“Who’s doing that? Cut it out!”

“_____, what a boob! And yet… Ah!… What a dreamboat.”

“Your eyes, like two green jellybeans, are pools I want to bathe in.”

“In the classroom my heart doth swoon, and yet, I want to beat your face in.”

“What are you looking at, geek bait?”

“Suddenly, I feel… inspired.”

“Those poems weren’t meant to be seen until I’m dead and buried and worms have consumed my flesh.”

“Wait! Don’t touch that. It’s evidence.”

“But that’ll take all day!”

“Oh, my gosh! What is that shampoo?”

“Hey, wait a minute. Something’s wrong here. Something’s… missing.”

“Ooo, we’re doing good.”

“We’re gonna compare handwriting on each suspect on the list.”

“Face it, man. It’s not _____. It never was _____. It’s never gonna to be _____. Okay?”

“I give up. The next name on this list is _____.”

“Let’s face it, _____, we’re stumped. We aren’t any closer to figuring this out and we’ve been working all night. Let’s take a break.”

“I must stop talking to myself.”

“Look, we’re both tired. I’m gonna just go straight to bed.”

“Ever find out who your secret admirer is?”

“You’re pretty darn lucky to have someone who cares about you so much.”

“Book’s gone straight to the kid’s head.”

“Hey, _____. What’s wrong with you? You sleep in a closet or something?”

“They got a penguin named Stuart who eats his own barf.”

“He’s not so scary.”

“Let me ask you something, _____. How would you feel if you were living in the ocean and some scientist captured you and he put you in a tank?”

“They’ll never catch me! Never!”

“Calm down, _____. It’s a hypothetical question.”

“I said, come on! We’ve got a mission to complete!”

“We’re taking action! Righting a wrong!”

“From now on, call me Chief, and you’re Agent Nine.”

“_____, do you have a driver’s license?”

“_____, we’re trespassing. This is public property.”

“Good, the sentry’s not at his post. Now’s our chance! Come on!”

“This is worse than I thought.”

“Don’t worry, buddy, we’re busting you out of this joint.”

[pearlypairings]

WIP Weekend Challenge

soooo you might be thinking... "pearly didn't you do this challenge already?" and I'd say yes mutuals and friends I did....But what about second breakfast...er WIP challenge (I have so many WIPs and @lonelyspectator12 just tagged me so why the hell not!)

In a reblog (or new post w/rules attached), post up to five (5) file names of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the file name is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

WIP bonus files: (still stranger things, but either gen or non-hellcheer pairings)

Haircheer

Max's Letters

TP x ST teens

(lol can you guess the pairing for the first one based on my made-up ship name?)

Snippet from "Haircheer" which is my little experiment to see if I have it in me to write a full, organized long fic for a new pairing....

Jason’s focus stayed fixed on Chrissy as he walked up with a shiny smile amidst the chatty cheerleaders. Chrissy pulled away to meet him halfway and Steve glanced away when Jason leaned down to kiss her. Not his place to stare. Steve grabbed his bag to leave, skulk out of the gym with the rest of the underlings trying out for the cheer team, his new competition. “King Steve!” Steve winced a moment, before changing up his expression to a wide grin. Turning around, he spread his arms wide to greet his (unknown to them) former teammates. “Jason. Pat. Seems you missed the action.” “Chris can’t pay attention when I’m around, right babe?” He squeezed her sides in a tight tickle until she squealed and swatted him away.  “Besides I only like watching one girl cheer for us, no need to scope out the rest.” Jason hugged an arm over Chrissy’s shoulders, pulling her in close. Her face was rosy while her eyes lowered to the sealed waxfloor. Patrick next to them shrugged, disinterested in being the obvious third wheel. “You know one of the new girls?” Patrick raised a curious brow, innocent and offering an escape for both of them. Steve shook his head. “Nah, no. I, um, well I—”

My inbox is still open for asks about the last post's wips or these additional ones :) keep me productive loves!

I've already tagged some pals last time, so if anyone else has WIPs that need encouragement this is me poking youto add just three sentences to that stubborn fic.

[dev-nxbody-h3re]

To the Left AU

okay ive done some thinking and pondering.

What if instead of Vanny it was Michael?

Like, hear me out. Michael's role in the story (as we've interpreted) has been William's foil- trying to bring down his empire and kill him for good. What if that role went to someone else?

I'd say that everything happens normally in canon up until it's time for Mike to go to sister location. In this AU, Michael would still have his friends (the tormentors) around to be there for him (bc I'm a Tormentor stan ok sue me), and they'd be like "yeah you're fucked up we'll just send matthew (Freddy Mask) to go instead" so Freddy Mask ends up in Michael's place.

Ofc, Matthew dies. I don't think he'd get scooped bc the reason Mike got scooped was that he looked like William, but he doesn't come back. (For the sake of my fragile heart, he ends up coming back later (which we will get to)). Mike is heartbroken, and his friends end up dying one by one.

If you've seen my videos (you probably should ;D) you'll know how the tormentors die, so essentially they all shift over. Taylor (Chica Mask) ends up pulling a James (Bonnie Mask), James ends up murdered, and Matthew takes Mike's spot. Michael, though, ends up not dying (this is important).

Matthew comes back to life (I'm thinking maybe he got springlocked by the suit in night 4 (which I know it's not even remotely close to canon and not even a possibility but lolbit is the springlock suit to me) and is understandably freaked out. He goes back to look for his friends and whoops they're all gone wHat?? So he goes and works at Freddy's, eventually meeting Jeremy.

I think Matthew would've absolutely shown up to work as a robot fox but then again apparently the funtimes have illusion discs in them?? So idk maybe he'd figure that shit out first.

He and Jeremy become pals and Jeremy gets bit by Mangle and they discover what William did and are all like "wtf big no no we've gotta do Something!" and try to find him and get him arrested.

Taylor pulls a James again and comes back to life and joins the guys.

We get to FNaF 3 and woah is James!! But nobody recognizes him because he's Shadow Bonnie. William had found him snooping around and in a panic had shoved him into spring bonnie. He doesn't possess springtrap bc William removed his body so his soul kinda is just there.

He's chilling around Fright with Springtrap when someone gets the bright idea to light the place up. James basically goes "guess I'll die" and stays in the fire.

But he ends up coming back and cobbles together a new body made out of garbage. It's rabbit shaped (maybe like plushtrap or something?? Idk I haven't really worked it out yet) and is leaking blue stuff (his very poorly managed remnant).

Matthew decides to pull a Michael and burns the place to the ground without telling anyone except Henry. And unlike Michael, he does not miraculously survive.

William is sentenced to Glitchtrap, and somehow James squeezes in behind him. I think that James would end up being the VR Springtrap from Help Wanted.

Instead of Jeremy play testing the game, Michael takes on the job. Management decided that the best guy to test their game wasn't some schmuck with grounds to sue their ass, it was the former owner's son! So Michael, very depressed and mentally unstable, interacts with William.

William ends up controlling Mike pretty easily since Mike is extremely low on positive validation and all it took was a couple "I'm proud of you"s and "please help your father"s to win him over. (Since in this AU, Michael had really only done mild investigation and didn't understand the full scope of what William did. Michael did end up finding out what remnant was and did a couple experiments with it (on himself, since he was pretty suicidal and wanted to see if it killed him or not) so he was pretty open to William having changed)

Michael basically goes completely insane and bends to William's will like putty. He tries his hardest to look exactly like Glitchtrap, with the purple vest and vomit yellow gloves all stitched up. He doesn't bother to hide his face since he's so proud of looking exactly like William.

Michael ends up donning the alter ego "Mally" (short for Malware/Malhare) and goes to the Pizzaplex in place of Vanny.

And then Matthew comes back as Montgomery Gator. Glitchtrap is unable to infect Monty, and Monty crashes during the show instead of Freddy.

Monty takes the place of Freddy in Security Breach, with the caveat that Gregory cannot enter his stomach hatch and instead has to ride on his back.

Mally goes on the hunt for Gregory, still doing the Vanny skips. He's holding an axe instead of a knife.

Taylor works in Vanessa's place (even though ik Vanny and Vanessa are the same (probably)) and is really irritable throughout the entire night. Matthew knows that Taylor can be trusted but he doesn't want to get sent back to his showroom or expose his awareness to William and Mally.

James escaped the game while they were programming Glamrock Bonnie, staying dormant in the system until Michael brings Bonnie downstairs to give to Glitchtrap (now Burntrap). He nopes the fuck out of there and system hops from robot to robot, eventually settling in the Daycare Attendant since the Afton virus really only effected Moondrop (is that his name still? or are we just calling him Moon again?).

During the first lights out, when all of the robots are in the Daycare, James hops out of the Daycare Attendant. He finds himself in Roxy and works on fighting off the Afton virus, which takes up the majority of his energy.

Of course, Burntrap senses that James is fucking up his perfectly good murder bot and sends Mally to deal with it. Unfortunately Mally is very preoccupied with trying to deal with Gregory and avoid Taylor, so he can't get there in time to fix Roxy.

Matthew and Gregory decommission Freddy in Fazerblast by pushing him off of the top of the winner's tower and his torso disconnects from his legs like Monty's does. Freddy's power up would probably be a longer battery life for Monty.

Roxy mysteriously disappears from every encounter onwards. Mally ends up showing up a lot more. Mally gets really fucking angry throughout the night and starts taunting them.

Gregory smashes Chica in the kitchen and gets her voice box.

Then Mally ends up cornering Gregory while Monty is charging and is about to kill him when Roxy, eyes and mouth dripping with blue shit, charges at him and knocks him away. Mally is stunned and Roxy runs off with Gregory, bringing him to Roxy's Raceway.

Matthew and James have a reunion or whatever and Mally comes in looking bruised and bloody from the hit and he's Pissed Off. Like, his eyes are glowing purple that's how bad he wants to kill them.

So they run and whatever and meet up with Taylor who is understandably very distraught over the whole thing.

6 AM comes and Gregory decides to stay in the Plex to figure out what's going on. Very Bad Idea.

Mally seemingly vanishes. The gang goes down into the Burntrap ending and find Mally talking to Burntrap.

Then Mally sees Taylor and just.. stops.

They're half expecting Michael to come to his senses, but Mally just grins.

Everyone's like wtf this is what Mike's been doing?? Bitch wtf???

Mally releases Burntrap and the blob mercs him almost immediately, following the Freddy/Chica/Mally bossfight.

Mally throws an absolute hissyfit and breaks down sobbing, collapsing to the floor without William's influence keeping him compliant.

They have their touching reunion and greggy boy just like 😐 the whole time.

As they set foot outside the burning Pizzaplex, Michael starts laughing maniacally and his eyes glow purple, effectively setting him back to Mally.

Surprise!! William made his new home in Mikey's brain!!

James is like "well if we did the same thing maybe I can get him out" but it doesn't work so essentially Mike is stuck with William until he gets mentally well enough to kick him out himself.

So then therapy arc

(Extra bits I forgot to add:

Elizabeth ends up leaving CBEAR like in the Fake SL ending and gets set free in the fire.

CC and Cassidy are dealing with William and potentially making it easier for William to get tf out of Mikey's brain.

Mally talks in the third person on occasion and acts very childish. He says stuff like "Father wants Mally to be a good boy!" and "Mally will be good, I'm good I promise!" He's just so starved of affection and he's a bit crazy kookoo. He's also extremely prone to mood swings and he laughs a lot.

Slowly, as Michael begins to heal and William loses power over him, Mally will stop being as violent and crazy. And eventually the Mally persona will fade away once William is gone forever, but sometimes he'll come back when Michael gets triggered by something. He uses Mally to cope.

(Note: Mike and Mally are the same person, and Mike is aware of what goes on as Mally. This isn't a split personality thing, it's more of just.. a fursona?? Like Mike is wearing a mask.))

I like to call this AU "To the Left". Since it's basically FNaF canon but moved to the left a bit.

If you have any ideas on how to improve it, please let me know!! I'm always up for a bit of constructive criticism!!

and yeah i did come up with this one in a couple hours thats so normal im so normal about these characters-

[kikidoesfanfic]

✨WIP Wednesday Game✨

I was tagged by @hitlikehammers but I didn't see it until today cause I had loooong fic open in my tumblr app and didn't want to lose my place xD

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

I'm retagging @hitlikehammers because tomorrow is wednesday again already lol, and @hbyrde36 !

My five wip doc titles (all for stranger things) aaaaare:

One of the variations is of the basketball shirt one, steve gett

merry Christmas have some golf clubs and homelessness

I might be noodling around a Steve who bursts his way into famil

Wayne and eddie get the wrong note ij their lunchbox

Steve's cousin

If these names confuse you boy do I gotta say same pal, but I don't change them until they have a fic title, so sometimes it's whatever the first sentence in the doc was before it became a wip instead of just an outline, typos and all xD

[clarionglass]

It has taken me literally two years from me promising to do this to it actually appearing, but! May I at long last present the inevitable continuation of this piece of glorious mad fiction, based on the equally-if-not-more-so glorious characters and scenario created by @teashoesandhair! Like with the first part, I had an absolute ball stepping up the ridiculous formality in writing this, and I hope upon hope it’s worth the wait :)

In the Demonic Style, a Good Omens Mandy AU: Part the Second

Lilith-Anne Brandy-Mason knew quite a lot about uncles. She lived with a pair of them, after all, in a well-apportioned flat in Mayfair, its rooms decorated in gold and silver and jewel tones and old wood. They were the ones who had bestowed such an unwieldy moniker upon her, and she loved them for it—because that’s what one does with uncles, even when they are slightly embarrassing, and slightly strange. And if there were any words with which a nearly-eleven-year-old girl should describe Messrs Brandy and Mason, “slightly embarrassing, and slightly strange,” would be exactly they.

They were her uncles, of course. She knew this, because that’s what they told her, every day: that they were her uncles, and they desired nothing but the very best for her. It was one of her earliest memories, their insistence on that point. She was small enough to still be wheeled in a perambulator, and the three of them had been stopped by a woman in her middle age, with an expression so sour that Lilith-Anne, now with over a decade’s life experience, could only imagine that she must have had an entire lemon tree growing through her from head to unmentionables. 

If she were to ask one of her uncles, she would be furnished with a much clearer recollection of the event. The angel Bryndael, known to humanity as Mr Brandy, could recall with ease the ugly sort of suspicion stamped across the woman’s features as she attempted to catch him and his demonic companion out in a perceived sordidness. A local busybody, she knew both of them by reputation, if nothing else, and was always eager to claim the moral high ground over any and all of her acquaintances.

“Mr Brandy?” she had asked sharply. “And Mr Mason? What are the pair of you doing with that child?” 

Bryndael’s panic was immediate and all-consuming. “I’m, well, we’re her—”

“Uncles,” Mr Mason—the demon Manoch—had interjected, sensing the angel beginning to fluster.

“Yes, her uncles,” he agreed, latching onto the word with relief.

The woman was unconvinced, most likely since she knew they were unrelated, and had sniffed a haughty sniff in their direction. “Both of you?”

Mr Mason merely nodded calmly, leaving Bryndael to pick up the pieces. “I’m her mother’s brother,” he had offered in conciliation.

“Father’s,” Mr Mason added. “And we are giving her the best of care in their stead.”

It was beautiful, the way in which a typically-demonic twisting of the truth could be used for such good, and Bryndael, loath as he was to admit it, was rather taken by the quick response—as he was by the way Manoch’s electric black gaze, the same one that had thrilled—no, horrified—him through the aeons, had remained so perfectly level. Somewhat less satisfied with the answer than he was, their interrogator had sniffed her sniff once again, but had still returned to her own turn about the neighbourhood without further protest.

Lilith-Anne hardly remembered the event in such minute detail, due to only being a year old at the time, but it had nevertheless impressed upon he the importance of her relationship to the two gentlemen whose care she was under. They were her uncles, despite her being well and truly old enough to realise she looked nothing like either of them. People don’t have to look like their uncles, of course, but they were the closest family she had, and Lilith-Anne was still slightly put-out by the lack of familial resemblance. 

What made the whole ghastly situation worse, in her mind, was that she had never seen any pictures of her parents, despite the recent blossoming of the photographic art. Her uncles were very firm on that point—her parents had perished in a fire shortly after her birth, and Lilith-Anne suspected the wound that such a tragedy had caused would never fully heal. Mr Brandy was still prone to tearing up at any mention of his sister—“That poor woman,” he would murmur, blue eyes filling, “that poor, poor woman,”—and Mr Mason’s brother was, according to his dark and curiously fearful mutterings, “most likely still burning.” 

Even so, she would have liked to see some photographs of her parents. She was certain she must favour someone in her family, and for years had been quite determined to find out who this person would be. Many people who visited the teashop owned by the Brandy line for decades mentioned that the resemblance in that pedigree was quite strong, with father and son always apparently looking remarkably alike, and she was rather peeved the likeness had passed her by. Still, without any further clues, she suspected she must take after her mother, and was content enough to labour under that suspicion.

Not that Lilith-Anne Brandy-Mason would have cause to know as much, but she did in fact bear a startling resemblance to someone, or rather, a set of someones: a Mr and Mrs Young of Tadfield, a small village far from the bustle of London, and their daughter, a girl of a similar age to Lilith-Anne. A third golden-haired young lady, who rivalled Lilith-Anne for cumbersome appellations with the name of Theodora H. Dowling (a suitable title for the child of the ambassador from the new United States of America), also shared with them a certain similarity of appearance. The three young ladies also shared a similarity of birthdate and time—down to the very minute, as a matter of fact—a curiosity that nobody had noticed, save for the deity who had arranged it.

Now, if we were to imagine the God of this universe, we should imagine a baker twisting three strands of brioche dough into a plaited loaf, over and under in an incomprehensible pattern. The strands had already been twisted, and the interventions of Messrs Brandy and Mason, reaching into the pattern to tug on the wrong strands, only tangled them further. As it previously stood, to run with the brioche metaphor, Heaven and Hell merely saw a twist, not a braid, where:

The dough contributed by the Dowlings and started on the left side of the loaf, which we will call Strand A, had been cast aside to the right.

The dough contributed by the Youngs, which we will call Strand B, did not exist. 

The dough that has started on the right, which we will call the Anticrust, the Great Yeast and destroyer of celiacs, had been twisted to the left. 

In actuality:

Strand A had indeed been cast aside to the right.

Strand B, which had started in the middle, was now on the left.

The Anticrust, the Great Yeast and destroyer of celiacs, had been plaited into the middle. 

And with a few more plaits, with the “help” of Bryndael and Manoch:

Strand A, from the Dowlings, was now back in its starting position on the left. 

Strand B, from the Youngs, was on the right, where two man-shaped beings had their eyes on it.

The Anticrust, the Great Yeast and destroyer of celiacs, was still, unbeknownst to everyone, in the middle, Strand B's original position.

But nobody, save the baker herself, could tell which strand of dough ended up where. 

Still, this wasn’t important—not for the moment, anyway, as it had been ten years and three hundred and sixty days since that particular loaf had gone into the divine oven of life, and although it was reaching the point of being done, so to speak—Armageddon would become a very pressing engagement in a mere five days’ time—the point of greatest current concern to Messrs Brandy and Mason was the time of their young charge’s upcoming Latin tutorial.

“I keep telling you, it’s at three,” Mr Brandy insisted from the hallway, in the tones of someone who had continued this argument for a very long time indeed.

“Four,” Mr Mason countered for perhaps the fiftieth time.

“Sometimes I swear you argue just to be contrary,” the angel fussed.

“Do not,” Mr Mason argued.

“Do so,” Bryndael returned, before cutting himself off to glare at his companion.

Mr Mason just smiled, sharp and roguish, before sobering. “I’m not joking about Lily’s tutorial, though. The tutor changed it last week, remember?”

Bryndael frowned suspiciously. “It’s just like you to insist on being late.”

“Only fashionably.” 

“One cannot be fashionably late to a Latin tutorial!” Bryndael squeaked. 

Mr Mason raised a strong and perfectly-formed eyebrow with a smirk. “One can be fashionably late to anything, if one just tries hard enough.”

“Well, I don’t want to try!” Bryndael protested. “And neither does Lily!”

“You’re not going to back down, then?” Mr Mason asked coolly. The answer was already known to him, but nevertheless, there had to be a formality to these things.

“Of course not!” 

“One of us has to be correct,” Mr Mason pointed out, irritatingly reasonably. “And if you won’t believe me, there’s only one way to determine it.”

Bryndael sighed, a little huff that carried overtones of both petulance and anticipation. “Well. If you insist.”

Lilith-Anne Brandy-Mason knew quite a lot about uncles. It came with the territory, so to speak. However, she was fairly sure that between them, her uncles harboured more than a few peculiarities. Most people, if they were possessed of two uncles, did not receive a thorough instruction in the Good Book and the various figures through history who most embodied its teachings from one, and an equally rigorous tutelage in Machiavellian politics and the lives of ruthless conquerors from the other. Most people with uncles weren’t bade goodnight with two gentle kisses on the forehead, which accompanied the reminders to “crush your enemies beneath your heel, Lily,” and “treat all forms of life with the greatest respect and dignity, my dear.” Nor did most people’s uncles call each other “dear boy” or “angel,” particularly not in the public arena.

And she was almost certain that other people’s uncles didn’t settle their disagreements by smooching—or at least, not quite as passionately as the way in which Messrs Brandy and Mason were currently engaged. If they did, she had never seen it. By contrast, she had seen this particular scene more times than she could count, having often been called upon to adjudicate such contests.

After the twentieth minute, with no sign of the “victory” she had been taught to look for—but had never actually seen, not in any of the smooching contests she had witnessed—she cleared her throat significantly. 

“It’s at half-past three, actually,” she said loudly. “Uncle Mason is right, Mister Huddlesthwaite did postpone my lesson, but only by half an hour.”

She watched, unsurprised, as her uncles parted with no small amount of reluctance. They used to spring apart with something approaching guilt, back in the days when their disagreements were over what Lilith-Anne recalled as much weightier issues, but now, the gentle unclasping of lip from well-smooched lip seemed to take almost as long as the contest itself. 

“Oh, is that right?” Mr Mason asked, straightening his cravat with a carefully innocent hand.

“Dear me, how could I have forgotten?” Mr Brandy fussed as he smoothed his curls, then extracted an ornate silver pocketwatch from his waistcoat. “We’ll need to be off in—” 

A lesser being than the angel Bryndael would have yelped upon realising how late he had let the time grow, thoroughly distracted as he had been by the caressing hands and wickedly clever tongue of his opponent in smooching. Even so, the noise of entirely dignified surprise that escaped him brought a devilish smile to the soft lips he knew so… professionally intimately, and his head once again was filled with images he did not care to dwell on. 

“Now, my dear, now, come on!” he exclaimed, deliberately putting those warm thoughts out of his mind, and Lilith-Anne, who had been ready for the last fifteen minutes, carefully concealed a sigh as she was bundled out of the door. 

She did not notice as Bryndael paused for a moment on the steps that led down to the street, looking back towards his companion of the last eleven years, and the millennia besides. 

“Dear boy, was that really necessary?” he asked, the faint spark of confusion in his eyes lighting them the warm blue of summer skies. “If Lily knew the time of her tutorial already? I mean, we could have just asked her, yes?”

Mr Mason merely raised a shoulder in a laconic shrug, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as he pulled the door shut behind them.

--

And far away in Tadfield, at that very moment, Eve Young reached a gleeful hand for the reddest, shiniest, most tempting apple from her neighbour’s tree, and, with the smallest of snaps, it separated gladly from its bough.

[edens-pen]

𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰 (𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦) | 𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

summary | eddie is slipping away and you need to roll over, expose the soft underbelly that you’ve kept away. so you take a deep breath and wince as you say, “I want to make love. To you. With you.”

pairing | eddie munson x black!fem!reader (locs)

wc | 1,900

warnings | lovemaking, no prep, unprotected sex, slight angst, eddie is a bit nervous about his body after the demon bat situation, reader has a little trouble being vulnerable, happy ending, not beta read. this is very soft, super off brand.

a/n | i get more self indulgent by the day, this is for all my pals who struggle with emotional vulnerability and disconnected from sex as a form of emotional protection but now realize that your partner connects to you through touch.

[ 18 + | minors, ageless, blank blogs do not interact ! ]

-

You sit Eddie down on your comforter, twisting a long, brown loc around your finger. 

“I–um–I–’’ You’re not sure why the words won’t come out. Normally this is no task from you, you know how to say what you want. Verbalizing every disgusting and sordid thought that came to mind was never difficult for you. Yet in this moment, concrete had your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth.

Eddie takes the initiative to lead. “Look, I know things have been different since I came back from the hospital,” He sighs, fiddling with his fingers. He looks anxious in a way that you’re not used to. “I can feel it. We haven’t–we’re not the same, y’know?”

Your brain is still trying to connect your own words while Eddie speaks in choked sentences. “Shit, I’ve got the fucking scars to prove things have changed. I get it.” His eyes seek out your own worried ones across the room. “You haven’t really touched me and it’s–hard. I get it if you think this isn’t working anymore.”

A stopping block trips your thoughts and you can’t find the words to tell him that breaking up with him is not your plan. Eddie’s always been observant, he’s always known you. He’s been able to read you like a book since you started dating him. He could tell when you were shying away from sex, choosing to kiss his lips lightly insead of yanking him down with that terrible hunger of yours. The signs were right there and he was waiting for you to tell him that you couldn’t do this anymore. The trauma of what happened to him, of you almost losing him was too much for the relationship to bear and you’ve never planned to date him anyways.

It was simply a friends with benefits situation that caught feelings too fast. The relationship grew before you could grasp it and you woke up one day with a boyfriend and his heart in your palm.

He always told you it was yours to break.

You see the tears piling up in his eyes before he blinks them away.

“I will always care for you, y’know?” He laughs wetly, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I promise I will.”

In this moment you’re cursing your personality, your inability to be vulnerable, your near desperate need to always have one foot out the door. It was a self-preservation thing. You couldn’t be the person to give more, to love harder, to expose yourself. 

You could do sex without feelings. You’ve done it many times before Eddie, you’ve fucked and rolled off the bed ten minutes later, gathering your clothes before your partner woke up. For some reason, it was different with Eddie. It was like you had latched on to him somehow and then he was dragging you out to dates and you were showing up to his gigs regularly. It just happened, you weren’t sure when. You just woke up in the middle of it.

But now Eddie is slipping away and you need to roll over, expose the soft underbelly that you’ve kept away. 

So you take a deep breath and wince as you say, “I want to make love. To you. With you.”

The room is achingly silent and your eyes are shut to protect yourself from Eddie’s reaction.

“What?”

“I’ve never done it before,” You confess, slowly opening your eyes to look at your perplexed boyfriend. “I can fuck, I can do it really well. The hair pulling and hitting and choking, I know how to do all that shit. But, um–the other stuff. The slow stuff? The romantic shit? I’ve never done that before and I–uh, I don’t want you to think I’m like fucked up or something.”

You can clock the moment that your words finally process in Eddie’s brain and his eyes soften when he looks at you. “You haven’t been avoiding me because you think my body is gross and disgusting?” It comes out as a half laugh but you can read the hesitance and fear easily.

“No! No, not at all. I’ve wanted you, really bad actually. I just didn’t want it to be our normal sex, I wanted to like–” You swallow the pride that threatens to close your throat and fight to continue this conversation. “Like–sh-show you how much I love you.”

It’s easy to see that Eddie’s floored at the way things are turning. He’s used to yanking feelings out of you, forcing you to relinquish the thoughts that you withheld from him.

“I know it’s not easy being with me sometimes, but if it’s okay with you, and you’re not too mad at me for taking so long, I’d like to try–to make love.”

Eddie’s nodding his consent and you’re leaning forward to kiss his lips, smearing your cherry lip gloss on his face.

Between kisses you’re pushing off his clothes, tugging his jeans off, and pulling your tank top over your head. Your skirt and panties quickly join the pile on the floor, along with Eddie’s underwear. When it comes time to take his shirt off, he hesitates, and you kiss his cheeks while sliding your hands under his shirt. This would be your first time seeing his scars.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” You promise, pulling back to look in his eyes. “But, I really want to.”

The sincerity in your voice has him releasing his grip on the bottom of his shirt. You slowly lift the material over chest and off his body. He’s holding his breath as you drop kisses on his chest, your hands moving tenderly, tracing the skin lightly. “You are so fucking brave,” You whisper and your breath tickles his skin. “But please don’t do that shit again, okay?”

When you look up at him, tears are streaming down your cheeks and you’re swiping at them harshly with the back of your hand. 

“Please, okay? I don’t–I can’t lose you. I won’t be okay, Eddie.” Your voice takes on a shaky whisper but you’ve turned on a faucet, and the water won’t stop running. “I won’t be fine. I won’t move on or find someone new, I won’t fucking make it without your laugh or your smile or your annoying music or your hands,” You pull his hands up, kissing his fingers and his knuckles as your tears fall faster.

“I won’t be fine without your voice,” You lean down and kiss his throat and the feeling of your wet cheeks against his neck makes Eddie choke a little. “Or your arms, or your eyes, or your heart beating in your chest, okay? So don’t do it again. Be a coward for me, because I won’t survive without you.”

Your words hit him like hollow tips in his lungs and he doesn’t have time to ask you what you mean because you’re sliding down to kiss his stomach. You’re taking your time to tell him how much he means to you as you do. A hand sneaks down to stroke him slowly, even though he’s been hard against your thigh since your hands started running down his chest.

Once you deem him ready, you move to slip him in, but he makes you stop.

“I didn’t prep you,” Eddie mutters, trying to move his hands to your wet cunt. “It’ll hurt.”

Shaking your head, you guide his tip against your entrance, “Wanna feel it. Need to feel you like this.”

Without Eddie’s fingers stretching you out beforehand, the fit is tight and it’s taking his breath away. But it’s exactly what you want. Adjusting to Eddie took a while and it was even harder without having an orgasm first, still you just desperately needed him. 

“Feels so fucking good,” You smile at him, raising your hips and dropping them slowly. "Like you're made for me."

Setting a steady pace is easy, but when your eyes lock with his, you start crying again. It really hits you that you almost lost him–you almost lost him without having this moment.

Eddie’s brushing his hands over your cheeks and you turn your face to kiss his palms. You hold his hands, unsure of how to deal with everything that you’re feeling.

The sex is always amazing but you’ve got your heart split open for him on a platter, and he’s eating greedily. He’s accepting your praise, your confessions of love, your purrs of adoration with ease. 

He leans up to place a tender kiss on your lips and you cup his cheek as you reciprocate. It’s tainted with your tears and Eddie won’t pull away. Not when you’ve stripped away the tense outer shell without quarrel. You’ve laid everything bare for him and you continue to feed him more.

“I love you, Eddie. I love you so fucking much.”

His cock jerks inside you while he moans at your confession. You don’t need him to say it back and you don’t want him to either. You just need him to hear you, to understand that you mean it.

Your walls are massaging him like nothing he’s ever felt before. In harsh whispers he tells you that he won’t last long and you nod, pulling him closer to you.

Nothing feels close enough. He’s already in your head, and still you want more. You want him under your skin, you want him inside you, just like this, forever.

Before you’re able to swat his hand away, his fingers find your clit with ease. 

He always tells you he can’t cum without you. And this time, he leaves you no choice. His fingers flick and strum against your button and your body is tightening up without your permission.

“Eddie–god–I’m close, gonna cum,” You pant in his ear, wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can.

“Cum for me, baby, please. Shit, I’m right here.”

Something about that makes that coil snap and your body gives in. It’s better than an ‘I love you,’ the acknowledgement that you needed to hear from him. The confirmation that he’s still here and you’ve still got him is enough to set you on top of that cliff you’ve been climbing.

You feel him spilling into you hotly with a few heavy rolls of his hips and a strained cry of your name.

Heavy panting fills the room and Eddie lays back, pulling you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, tracing shapes up and down your back. 

Obviously he’s talking about more than sex. He’s referencing the part where he almost died and you swore you couldn’t be without him. You’ve shown him more fragility in one night than you have in your entire relationship.

“I can’t lose you,” You repeat with your ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat in your favorite rhythm. “I really can’t, okay? You don’t get to make me love you and then fucking die.”

The tremble at the end of your words tells him this is more than a threat, it's a holy confession, and he relishes in the sanctuary of your love.

“I love you, too.”

You don’t move yet, instead you soak up the sound of Eddie’s breathing above you, the rise and fall of his chest below you.

The signs that he’s still alive.