#nothing to see here but me singing praises for this lovely game

[cochineal-leviat]

Sweet Dreams, Stardust

Okay, so I have a lot of feelings about In Stars and Time. But let me say first, wow, this game irreversibly changed my brain network. For anyone who is considering buying this game, please do. I don't think I've had a story touch my heart and mind like this for a long time. And that goes without mentioning the stunning visuals and entertaining battle system. (Be careful, though, because this game handles heavy topics regarding mental health)

If you're still hung up on buying it but are curious, there is a free demo on Steam if you like to try.

Thank you, @insertdisc5, for this gem of a game. I will be turning it around in my head like a microwaveable gourmet meal for months to come.

Technically the illustration has no spoilers (unless you count Siffrin having a good nap as a spoiler). But I will be going into heavy spoiler territory under the keep reading since I need to get my thoughts on this game off my chest.

And a monochrome version because you know me, I can't help myself. Even in black and white art pieces, I will put in some colour.

And a very tiny Loop

Initially, I was going to do a piece with a theatre stage and the cast (Siffrin, Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie and the head house maiden) taking a bow and finally leaving the spectacle to a life not controlled by a script and Wish Craft. But it was more fitting to put my feelings into creating a peaceful scene. Like, oof, I needed this very badly. I used sepia to make the painting warmer and added some more details like headcanons. The stars/colours might be remnants of Siffrin's transformation. Or maybe they were always there, but he never paid attention to it. Who knows.

I'm going to keep this brief. Otherwise, this post will take way too long.

I adore Siff's character. It's perfect for a game and narrative such as this. I saw a post not long ago on Tumblr going into depth about how their role as the rogue and not the hero works so well, so I won't linger on it for long. But how they would rather listen and fade into the background perfectly aligns with the player's experience of being the silent observer. (And the nodding off that changes into zoning out. It took me way too long to realise that small but essential narrative change) Oh, and the portrait change! It flew over my head until I was staring at the game menu. I was so confident Siffrin had a mischievous grin and not a frown. I always feel slightly surprised when the party asks for Siff's opinion or mentions that they have been too quiet. I felt Siffrin's excitement like my own when he got excited at finding clues to end the nightmare they were in. So I knew it would end up falling on their face because they were too excited. I just had this bad gut feeling the whole time during Act 4.

And oh boy, speaking off acts. I thought it would have been the standard 3. Boy, I was wrong. Whenever I felt I was nearing the end, I was thrown back at the start with more mysteries than answers. It made exploring the game intriguing since there is almost no information about it online (at the time of writing this post). There is the Discord, but I didn't know about it until I finished it.

This game has a lot of secrets, and I had a lot of fun uncovering them. The looping mechanic works so well in discovering little details and further leads. (even though my stubborn arse kept trying to do everything in the least amount of loops as possible. I thought the ending would be different if I exceeded a 100. My final number is 59. I am still not sure if I should be mad about it not being a rounded number like 60 or that I went over the 50 threshold)

However, it is a good thing that only some mysteries were solved. Like, what's up with colours in this world? Everyone sees in black and white, and the idea of shades and colours is only spoken of in scientific studies. They do exist and are not a part of the disaster that happened to Siffrin and their land. But there is definitely something mysterious about it. I adore how the dialogue reflects this, as the characters do not speak of shades or colours. Isabeau expresses surprise to see a streak of red colouring the sky in Act 6. It makes you think about how colour is perceived and how you describe it. (The lore inside this game is immaculate. I eat this shit up)

We never find out the name of the country north of Vanguard or what it was like. We can only infer that the beaches had black sand, with shells that shine like stars, high-reaching mountains, forests and plains. Which is vague and yet intriguing enough to make you wonder. It connected me to Siff and King because I also wanted to know. I was desperate to know. I needed to know. But in the end, we never will know because that is not the story's point. Siffrin even says in the game, that King should let go because he is hurting everyone and everything, including himself, in his desperation to preserve Vanguard. This is all the more ironic when Siff accidentally does the same with his family and the loops. I might gush more about what the country might be like and their technology in another post. This game makes me want to theorise. This is the first time I've wanted to write and post theories. ISAT fucked me up good.

Which, by the way, was genius. Siffrin and King are mirrors of each other. Siff does not have King's disastrous ambition, but their love/obsession will be the downfall of both of them. They have more than being each other's countrymen in common, and I imagine Siff despises that.

I love the fact King's question to Siffrin before the showdown was/could never be answered. Usually, in a game such as this, you must figure out how to solve everything, especially for the big bad. But that was never the goal. King is a delusional monster who will not stop before achieving his dream. He will raze everything to the ground and hurt many people because he must succeed. It is what he desires. Nay, the universe wills it. What a witless excuse that can easily be made into someone's truth. Especially to somebody who is driven mad with grief.

How King's character's done is so excellent. Because, at first, I wasn't scared of him at all. He was just the big bad, and I felt nothing much but the glory of victory when Siffrin outsmarted him by looping and making sure Mirabelle learned the shield spell that would protect the party from freezing in time. But each time you fight him, you get more frustrated until Siff figures that talking to him might be fruitful. It does, but unfortunately, you and Siffrin leave yourself emotionally and mentally vulnerable. King stops being a one-dimensional villain and changes into an actual person. Someone you can sympathise with and possibly mend peace with without fighting. You and Siffrin opened his heart for a kindred spirit and got hurt.

King stopped being a monster and became human. And while monsters are wretched, humans have intent behind their cruelty. I felt so betrayed, so angry, but most of all - terrified. I felt it when Siffrin spiralled when fighting King again after their actions caused such a catastrophic turn of events for Bonnie. Every time after that, the fight with King felt tense and nerve-wracking in a dreadful way. Because even victory could not soothe the dread I felt. (The track 'It's finally over" will forever haunt me. I already feel anxious whenever it cycles to that when I listen to the playlist)

He was not, however, the final villain, even though everything that happened was King's fault. You were always your greatest enemy (or Siffrin in this case, since you are supposed to be Siffrin). I never could have guessed that the whole reason why Siffrin could not escape the loops was because Siff accidentally wished to never let go of their friends. This reminds me of Modaka Magica, where (spoilers for the OG anime) Homura goes back in time so much that the universe ties itself around Modoka, making her a waiting egg whose wish and magic will be massive when she becomes a magical girl. The one thing Homura was trying to prevent.

(Siffrin and Homura are identical in that sense. Shy characters who are loyal to a fault but are rendered into something cold, bitter and cutting by their traumatic experiences. Only Siff has people who care about them and would do anything to save him, too, whereas Homura never lets go, making the world a worse place to live in. Yes, I did go into doomed Yuri. That anime lived in my mind rent-free in my mind for years)

The Head House-maiden not being the villain was also a great touch. I am used to the apparent antagonist turning out not to be the big bad and the trusted, friendly character ending up being the evil one. Twist villains no longer work when everyone expects them to be villains.

That was my biggest theory as I played. The second biggest being that Loop is someone who enjoys Siffrin's suffering. I am so glad that was also not the case. They are apathetic but not cruel. Never intentionally, anyway. They were like the player, urging Siffrin to go deeper into the mystery to solve it. Ultimately, I chose and made cold and cruel decisions simply because I wanted to see what would happen. So yeah, I warmed up to this cosmic star thing as the game went on and even started trusting them. Act 5 really is a punch in the gut. I am so sorry, Loop. Thank you for coming through in the end.

Oh man, this is so long, and I haven't even gone into the main cast. I will leave that for another post. They are such great characters, as are the people of Dormant and the House. (Don't think I don't see the wordplay in this game. Very clever)

Going into this game completely blind was the best experience I could have had. I felt anxious, happy and scared so severely that my neurons were rearranged. I don't know if there are more endings (aside from the obvious action of attacking Odile in the True(?) ending of the game), but I am taking a break from it to make art and write for this game before I dive back into despair-o-land.

Anywho, thank you for coming this far and reading my ramblings. Have a fantastic day or evening further! o(*'���`*)ブ

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Invidia

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Plot? I don't know her. Jealousy, dom/sub dynamics, slightly toxic relationship, alcohol consumption, light choking, spit kink, light bondage, P in V action, use of sex toys, overstimulation, degrading language, slight praise kink, implied oral (m receiving) Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: Aemond dishes out a punishment that won't soon be forgotten when his partner attempts to make him jealous. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Her grip tightens around her martini glass, eyes narrowing, as jealousy bubbles acrid and bitter within her chest.

She watches as the dark haired woman grazes her perfectly manicured nails over Aemond’s bicep, red stained lips pulling back into a saccharine smile, revealing pearly white teeth. She knows the woman is drop dead gorgeous, but in her envious state she sees only a predatory threat to her relationship, her thoughts darkened and unkind with internalised misogyny.

Worse still is that Aemond appears to be doing nothing to stop her, he is allowing this woman to flirt shamelessly with him. While his mannerisms are impassive, not returning the woman’s touches or suggestive grins, she believes he should be making it explicitly clear he is unavailable.

She hadn’t even wanted to come this evening, she had been desperate for a quiet night in front of the TV, just her and Aemond. He’d insisted they go though; the opening night of Aegon’s new cocktail bar and he simply had to support his family. So she’d dolled herself up, allowed herself to be dragged along and how here he was making a mockery of her.

Two can play at that game.

She wants to make him feel every bit as jealous as she does, to remind him he isn’t the only desirable person in their relationship, and she knows just the person who will strike that blow hardest.

Scanning the crowd, she spots the man of the hour propping up the bar, tipping back tequila shots. 

Swallowing the remnants of her drink in a single gulp, she winces slightly as the combination of vodka and vermouth burns lightly in her throat, then heads over to where Aegon is standing.

“Hey, you,” She greets him in a sing-song voice, reaching out to brush her fingers against his forearm. “Love what you’ve done with the place!”

“Thanks,” He says with a smirk, his eyes traveling over her appreciatively, before nodding towards her glass. “Looks like you’re empty, shall I get you another?”

She knows that the music isn’t so loud that she can’t be heard by simply raising her voice a little, but she also knows that doing that won’t grant her the attention she so desperately seeks from Aemond. So, she leans in, her lips brushing against the shell of Aegon’s ear as she whispers to him.

“Oh, I would love one, thank you!”

Drawing back, she watches the bob of his throat with a satisfied smile, as he swallows thickly. She was having the desired effect on one brother, at least.

“You got it,” He tells her, his hand brushing hers as he relieves her of the empty glass and turns back towards the bar, holding up two fingers towards the bartender.

It’s then that she feels a firm but gentle grasp on her upper arm and turns to look up into the steely gaze of Aemond. The taut bun that his long, silver hair is pulled back into leaves his face unobscured, so the hardened lines of anger are unmistakable. While his left eye remains milky and lifeless, the fury that burns bright within the blue of his right more than makes up for its absence.

A shiver runs through her. Perhaps she has pushed this too far.

“We’re leaving,” He tells her flatly.

Her eyes widen as she tries to protest. “But Aegon’s just getting me a dri–”

“I wasn’t asking,” He shoots back, grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowded bar.

He is silent on the drive home. The hand that would usually rest against her thigh keeps a firm grasp of the steering wheel as he stares straight ahead. 

The tension inside the car is unbearable. She knows she’s in trouble. Her stomach flutters nervously, wondering what she can say to calm him down, but can come up with nothing that she doesn’t think will enrage him further, so she stays silent.

The moment they arrive home, he spins her around to face him, pressing her against the wall, causing her to gasp. His hand grasps lightly against her throat as he stares her down. Arousal pools warm between her thighs.

“Just what the fuck was that tonight?” He hisses lowly.

“I-I was just chatting to Aegon…” She stammers, gazing up at Aemond, doe-eyed.

“Oh, it looked like it was more than chatting, much more.”

“It wasn’t, I swear!” She whines, regretting ever having approached Aegon in the first place, but unable to shake the effect that Aemond’s display of dominance is having on her.

“Hm,” He raises his free hand towards her face, tugging at her bottom lip with his thumb. “Open.”

She opens her mouth, steeling herself for what’s to come, but still shivers when she feels him spit harshly onto her tongue. She swallows without having to be asked, inwardly delighted at the hum of approval that Aemond emits.

“Thought you could use something to accompany the filthy lies that are coming out of your mouth,” He mutters darkly, his grip on her throat tightening.

She whimpers as her resolve crumbles. “That woman was flirting with you!”

“Ah, there it is,” He smirks. “You behaved like a stupid, little slut with my brother because you were jealous? Pathetic.”

“She was all over you, you did nothing to stop her!” She snaps back, feeling herself grow angry.

“But I didn’t do anything, did I?” He snarls, eye narrowing. “If you saw the number of women I turn down when you aren’t around you’d fucking cry, yet I can’t trust you not to throw yourself at my brother. Would you rather be with him instead?”

“No, Aemond, I only want you!” She clings desperately to the front of his black button up shirt.

“Is that so?” He cocks his head slightly, his hand still around her throat.

“Yes, I was just trying to make you jealous. I’m sorry,” She pleads.

“Hm. You’re about to be. Bedroom. Now.”

He releases her throat and she walks on unsteady feet towards their shared bedroom, nervous excitement making her heart race.

She lays back on the bed, biting her lip in anticipation, as Aemond stands at the foot of it, the metal clink of his belt being unfastened the only sound in the room. The audible slide of the leather against the cotton of his suit trousers as he removes it from the loops causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh.

“Wrists together. Above your head,” He orders.

She does as she’s told, her throat running dry when she feels the mattress dip either side of her as Aemond straddles her, winding his belt around her wrists and using it to bind them to the headboard.

“Colour?” He asks simply, making eye contact.

“Green,” She whispers.

“Good girl,”

The praise shoots straight to her core, making her clench around nothing. He leaves her with no time to ponder on what his next move might be, as his hands disappear beneath her skirt to tug down her underwear.

She arches off of the mattress slightly as his deft fingers swipe through her folds, coming away glistening with her slick.

“Little slut,” He whispers, before freeing his cock, showing he’s every bit as turned on as she is.

He takes a firm hold of her hip with one hand, grasping the base of his erection with the other and forces himself all the way in to the hilt in one fluid motion.

She is wet enough that any preparation isn’t required, but the sudden stretch still steals her breath away.

Aemond’s thrusts are quick and sure, his hips snapping against hers harshly as he brings his thumb between their bodies to rub at her clit in rapid, tight circles.

Her nails bite into the leather of the belt around her wrists, struggling to ground herself as pleasure builds steadily within her gut, each slap of his skin against hers nudging her closer to the edge.

His breathy pants combined with the look of determination on his face give her the final shove she needs, and she falls apart with blinding white warmth that washes over her from head to toe.

She’d believe her punishment was over were it not for the fact that Aemond has yet to cum. His low chuckle as he stills inside of her is all the indication she needs that he’s just getting started. He leans over, never slipping out of her, and pulls her Hitachi magic wand from a drawer of the bedside table. 

Fuck.

“Colour?” Aemond demands again, his voice husky.

“G-green,” She breathes shakily.

He purses his lips. “We’ll see about that.”

The jolt that rockets through her body when he presses the toy against her, at maximum speed, causes her to squeal. He keeps it there, resuming his thrusts inside of her and the combination of the two is too much. She trembles all over, her mind feeling foggy.

“What are you going to do the next time you feel jealous?” Aemond asks.

“N-fuck-nothing!”

“Good girl. And that’s because you can trust me.”

A sob of pleasure is ripped from her as another orgasm has her tightening and spasming around Aemond uncontrollably. He shows her no mercy, keeping the wand firmly on her, the momentum of his hips never slowing.

Aemond’s breathing is ragged, sweat visible upon his brow from exertion. “Do you trust that yours is the only cunt I want to bury myself inside of?”

“Aemond…please…” She mewls piteously, overstimulation making her shake.

“I need you to say it,” He grits out.

She tugs involuntarily at her restraints, tipping her head back. “Yes, I trust you!”

He brings her to peak three more times, before he finally relents. “Colour?”

“Yellow,” She says weakly, voice hoarse and eyes teary.

Aemond switches the toy off, tossing it to the side and slowly pulls out of her. She hisses at the sensation, noticing that he is still rock hard, not having peaked himself yet.

He rubs gently at her wrists as he unfastens the belt, helping to get the blood circulating once more. Brushing his lips against her temple, damp with perspiration, he whispers softly to her. “I’m not done with you yet, just giving that sweet little pussy of yours a rest. For now–” He leans back on his haunches and taps the head of his cock against her lips. “You can put that pretty mouth of yours to work, you’ve got quite the mess to clean up.”

[markrbit]

𝙨𝙠𝙯 𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 ☆ (𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘯𝘢𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦) ☆

song recommendation: ‘my universe’ (seungmin & i.n) (feat. changbin) ♪

an; omg! thank you all so much for the support on the hyung line ones !! now, prepare for the cutie maknae line <3

📂; bolds are a summary, use of pet names (sprout, sugar, puppy, peach), use of the word dada (x1), a bit of crack in seungmins, pure fluff other than that, barking at people T-T, thats all i can think of. 

𝙟𝙞𝙣𝙞 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜

< 🐿️ > HAN;

CHAOS DAD

definitely makes pillow forts and has pillow fights.

‘good night sprout, i love you so much!’ 

movie night sundays :(

sits the kid on his lap and cradles them, all while watching a silly cartoon movie that both of them enjoy, probably the lego movie or something.

his child would be the brightest light of his life, enough said

constantly talks about them, nothing but praise, just thinks they are perfect in all ways.

writes every single song about them, just finds one thing to compare in every lyric.

lullaby king.

sings them to sleep every night, and will stay at their side until they fall asleep.

he always, ALWAYS, tries to see himself in the kiddo, whether it be through looks or personality, it finds comfort knowing he put effort into raising a fragile human life. 

< 🐥 > FELIX;

thinking about this makes me SO SAD.

baking cookies together :(

‘you alright sugar? good, make sure you don’t spill the milk ok? be careful.’

his mini assistant in pouring, measuring and every step in the process.

if his child had freckles, he would make sure to count them, making a note of each one as they fall asleep in his arms.

if felix is sunshine, his child is a brighter ray of sunshine.

always speaks highly of his child, nothing but endless praise, as he loves them for who they are nonetheless, and it can turn into rambles, but that’s just how much he loves them.

GIRL SCOUT DAD (if he had a daughter).

the best field trip chaperone ever, gets immersed in the experience and makes it all the better.

plays video games with the kiddo in his lap, teaching them the controls and holding their hands to play with the controller. 

<🐶> SEUNGMIN;

the type of dad to affectionally call his kid, ‘dog’ or ‘puppy.’

‘aw yeah, i think this puppy here is ready for their nap.’

loves to play with the kids toys, like make the whole experience better for them.

‘playing pretend’ >>>> especially with seungmin.

similar to felix in the sense of a girl scout dad.

goes adventuring outside in the backyard, playing in the plants and whatnot.

after they get inside, bath-time! the lord of giving bubble baths. 

teaches his kiddo to bark at people, at first it was a joke until it got out of hand. 

‘see uncle jisung? yeah, bark at him.’ T-T

his kid would always try and run and hide from him, as if they were always playing, which makes them a handful in public spaces. 

but he plays it cool, the hide and seek king he is.

<🦊> JEONGIN;

HE’S SO CUTE AND TINY AUHFDBID

he randomly buys things because, ‘oh, this looks like them!’ and it’s literally like a plushie.

most caring dad ever.

king of playdates, he has a whole color coordinated calendar of events dedicated to his kiddo, along with sticky notes of drawings they made.

scent king, he wants his baby to smell good. 

fresh baby, lavender lotion, or the really good smelling lotion.

this whole scenario makes me have butterflies in my tummy :(

TUMMY KISSES 

he holds them up and just tickles them with silly little kisses to their tummy, and laughs along with them.

and then they fall asleep together, the sweet smells wafting together as they doze off. 

‘goodnight my peach, dada loves you.’

[pakunod-a]

Open my heart, read the signs. || Yandere!Vil Schoenheit x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Yandere kidnaps victim, finds out victim is over the moon for them. What to do in a situation wherein my love interest likes me back, without the use of my carefully thought-out plan?

Warnings: Realistically, this should be titled as Whiny!Fem!Reader (totally not a self insert of what I am like irl, no...) Yandere themes, if being dependent on others was a person, it would be the MC in this fic. Reader is 100% on board with Vil's plan. Who wouldn't want to be kidnapped by an insanely handsome guy, AND is in love with you? Honestly, he kinda mean tho. Potentially OOC Vil, this is somewhat fluffy to an extent.. I am not fluent in English, it is not my native language.

Note: am I writing this to satisfy my severe need to taken care of in a concerning way? Maybe. Is this unnerving to see, considering I am a minor? Definitely. But it's all fiction, right? Yeah, totally. Might be long af because I've been brain rotting since forever.

...Darkness.

It was horribly dark in here.

No source of light, not even a window or a lamp.

You try to move, but your movements have been restrained by chains.

You try to wiggle a bit farther, but it's no use. You're stuck here. You begin to sob softly, sniffling as you realize you are stuck in a secluded area, alone.

You hated being left alone, be it in class, projects, friend groups.. you didn't like being left somewhere to wander alone.

...That's right, you hated being alone.

..but you were never truly lonely, weren't you?

After all, Vil Schoenheit always vowed to make time for you.

He swore on the statue of The Fairest Queen, that he would not neglect your need of human affection.

..even if that meant you clinging to his side forever.

You remember walking alongside Vil on Main Street, looking up at the statues of the Seven.

You've always admired them, a lot, actually.

So when you unconsciously walk over to the Fairest Queen's statue, and blurt out your thoughts..

"...Hey Vil, do you think the Fairest Queen would be proud of you for being a spitting image of her?"

Vil paused for a moment, looking down at you to confirm. You were interlinked by the arms, as you stared up to the statue, focusing on the sculpted apple she held by the stem.

"I suppose she would. Why.. why a spitting image of her though? I look nothing like the Fairest Queen herself."

"I think.. because.. I find you very pretty. And you're like.. really reaaally smart at making potions. And you're like, perfect. Real perfect."

You beamed at him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. You felt.. dizzy. A little dizzy, as you lean onto Vil for support.

"Mmm.. feelin' a bit sleepy, Vil. Catch me."

You went limp in his arms, and the world around you fades to black. From fatigue, maybe? Or from something else..

There are a flurry of footsteps making their way towards you. The door creaks open, and you can make out a tall, beautiful shadow from the emitting light.

"You're up, dear? That was quick. I'd have expected you to sleep for a while longer."

You know that voice. You've heard that voice many times, in your dreams, in your nightmares, the voice that sets you to sleep and causes you to wake. The voice that makes your heart yearn for more, if not all of the praises it sings for you.

"...Vil?"

"That's right dear. Vil Schoenheit, if you've forgotten. Now, let's get something through that thick skull of yours, alright? I will not let you go. No matter how much you plea—"

"..'s cold Vil. Hug me please."

That caused Vil to pause for a moment. What do you mean, "hug me please", do you not understand what type of situation you're in? Or maybe, it's a trick! You're trying to deceive him!

"Enough. I'm not here to play your silly games, [Name]. If you try so much as to fool me, then I swear on the Great Seven, you are not leaving this room, nor will you see the light of day again."

Vil.. was raising his voice at you. That was weird. It always felt weird when he yelled at you, or got mad at you for whatever reason. He always dotes on you or compliments you, and on the off-chance that he DOES yell at you, he always apologizes profusely, stroking your hair in an attempt to console you.

"But.. you never yell at me.. Vil—"

"SILENCE! I will not fall for your made up stories and lies! Just for that, you will stay in this room for days on end without human interaction until I say otherwise!"

He storms out the door, slamming it shut. You begin to sob quietly, patiently awaiting the hands that once held you to hold you once more, the voice that used to comfort you until you peacefully slept in his arms..

But alas, he was gone. Gone was the kind, loving Schoenheit you knew, now just a cold and unnerving replacement. Why.. why would he do this to you? After you've trusted him to stay by your side.. to not leave you like the others do.

You thought he was special. You thought you were special to him, too. But you're starting to wonder if everything that he said was only lies for his convenience.

True to his word, you spent the next few days alone in his dark room. As those days pass by, you began sobbing yourself to sleep as the hours trickled through the hourglass of time.

You called out to Vil unconsciously, of course. In your sleep, you would yearn for the presence of another. It just so happens that you call out the name of your captor, Vil Schoenheit, whether you were aware or not.

This breaks Vil's heart, and it almost breaks his resolve too. He wants nothing more than to hold you close, coddle you like a mother, as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. You would sleep in his bed, as the both of you wrap your arms around each other for warmth.

He hears your calls in the dead of night, echoing through the empty Pomefiore halls. His sleep would be disturbed by a call of distress, his beloved calling out his name.

Alas, he believes this is all a trick, an illusion to simply lower his guard.

And so he spends the next few nights, tossing and turning, guilt eating at him constantly, without fail.

Until one night, your calls stop. You yearn for him no more. He cannot hear the gut-wrenching melody that once rang in his ears, the call of his beloved to come find her, to save her from the predicament he had put her in.

He gives in to his thoughts, and visits his captive at the peak of dawn.

You were there, sitting as if you had been weakened to an extreme extent. He wanted nothing more to hold you, to caress you again. But he has thought of every possibility, every problem, every solution.. but his conscience gets the better of him. He unbinds your hands from the chains restraining them, and carries you back to his bed. Thankfully, you were asleep at this moment, so he had little to no struggle in moving you to an accessible spot.

He sets you down gently, and for the first time since he's held you captive, as he drapes a blanket over your sleeping figure, you unconsciously grab hold of his hand, reaching, feeling the warmth you so dearly missed.

"..—il.. Vil.."

"[Name].. my dearest [Name], did I go too far? Did I break the promise I swore to honor in your name? Tell me [Name], I'll set it right, you don't deserve to suffer like this. You deserve to be—"

He notices that you've shifted, instead of being at a reasonable distance, your first instinct was to cuddle up to whatever warm living thing you find. As a result, you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to your sleeping form.

"Nnh.. Vil.."

"Yes dear.. Vil is right here, with you. There is no need to call out, this is where I will stay; beside you. You would appreciate that truly, wouldn't you?"

You did not respond, but something about the relaxed look on your face tells Vil that maybe you weren't planning anything meticulously drastic at all.

"I won't ever leave you again my dear, I promise. I mean it this time."

...You wake up to the feeling of an arm draped over you, your head elevated on someone's chest. You glance up to see Vil Schoenheit embracing you, burying his face into your hair. He mumbles in his sleep, holding you tight as humanly possible.

"Stay.. stay with me.."

"...mm?"

You poke his cheeks. It's adorable whenever he's vulnerable like this. You peck his forehead, and drift off to sleep.

You hear a soft melody that causes you to stir awake, the familiar comfort of two hands caressing your hair as a lullaby graces your ears. You felt all too familiar, until the melody was broken by a question—

"Good morning dear, did you sleep well?"

This time, Vil was the one looking down at you, your head in his lap, as he gazes at you with the most woeful of looks one could give.

"I am sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me. I shouldn't have done this to you. I understand if you want to leave, and I'll understand if you hate me so much to the extent that—"

He was cut off by a kiss to his nose, which both surprised him and caused a blush to his face.

"..ah. You.. um.. seem to react.. not in the way I was hoping you would."

He muses, as he hears you giggle softly.

"I'm fine with being like this with you any day. But please, promise to not lock me up in a dark room for days next time?"

He chuckles, kissing your forehead in adoration.

"Never. Not again. Say, once winter break is over, how about I spend the next spring break with you? Ah.. given that I'll have to clear my schedule, of course."

"You'd do that? Like.. seriously? I thought you had gotten an offer to star in another famous movie as the antagonist?"

He grumbles, pinching your cheeks suddenly.

"And why would I willingly accept the offer if all they would do to my poor image is to villainize me?"

"Ha ha. Funny. It's because of Neige playing the protagonist, isn't it?"

"Partially, yes. But also.. I promised I'd take you to see the first flowers bloom in spring. I can't jeopardize special moments like those for some silly movie."

That remark stuck with you. Your arms only opted to wrap around him tighter.

"..okay then. As long as you promise not to lock me up again."

"Silly little spudling, of course I wouldn't. You've taken quite well to being captured though. I can't help but wonder if maybe you love me or something."

"It's taken you this long to figure out?"

"..what?"

You look in mock horror, teasing him.

"Don't tell me you thought that all the things we do are platonic. Holding hands, interlinking arms, overly affectionate hugs and kisses—does that not seem romantic?"

"..I feel silly."

You giggle at that, kissing the tip of his nose as a response.

"For such a smart person and a great actor, you sure are a dummy."

"Very funny. I'm going to make you sing at the well on the campus in the midst of this cold weather if you don't stop teasing me."

"Like actually?"

"Actually."

Note (2): lol i wrote this at 11pm and finished at 1am cause i kept on dozing off now that ive proofread the entire thing it just seems like an original character rather than Vil himself 🏃

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, smut, oral (f & m receiving), fingering (v), dirty talk, praise kink

chapter three: my curse (14k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. songs for this chapter include #6-#14 and are all mentioned by name.

There is love

Burning to find you

Will you wait for me?

My Curse— Killswitch Engage

All day Friday, powdery-sweet Chrissy is on your mind as you labor through the shift from perdition. It's like the cosmos had overheard her question about crazy patient stories and generously decided to provide new conversation topics. You've been screamed at, berated, exasperated, and drawn so thin you spend the car ride decompressing in rare silence without your typical Spotify playlist. When you'd finally arrived home, the draw of sweatpants and nostalgia had proven too much to resist. You'd promptly cocooned on the loveseat in thick socks and a knitted blanket, retreating into Breath of the Wild for the umpteenth time. The buzz of your phone on the armrest runs up your elbow, but you're too absorbed to answer until the buzzing starts again, too insistent to ignore.

You glance to see it's Steve calling; you swipe and put him on speaker without pausing your game. "Hey," you answer, voice fond but somewhat distracted.

"Hey, babe." Steve sounds like he's in a wind tunnel. He must be driving. "What are you doin'?"

"Nothing," you answer absently, eyes still trained on the soft pastels of Kakariko Village until he says, 

"Well, I'll be home in forty, so start getting ready."

You frown in confusion, glancing at the contact picture on your phone screen: you and Steve at an NBA game, his anniversary present to you last year. "Ready for what?"

The smile in Steve's voice is audible. "Chrissy called. We're going to Insa tonight." 

You instantly straighten from your comfortable slouch, Switch abandoned beside you as you fumble up the phone. "Really?!"

"Yup." You can hear the happiness in his laugh as you squeal, tearing the blanket from your body and bolting for the bedroom. "She got us a private room for an hour."

You make another little joyful sound, hand already tugging at the shower knob, words spilling like a rush. "Yay! Okay, I'm getting ready, bye!"

"Love you," you hear Steve say.

"Love you!" You drop the phone onto the counter, hips wiggling as you wait for the water to warm. This is even more appealing than spending a night in with your favorite comfort game. You love music and singing, but traditional karaoke bars make you nervous— all those strangers staring at you on stage under the glare of the lights makes you instantly freeze. But Insa is a Korean karaoke bar, and since Chrissy has booked you a private room, it means it'll just be you and Steve, your two friends, and all the soju or sake you can drink. Here you were, thinking about Chrissy all day, and now it feels like you'd unintentionally manifested her invitation. Maybe the cosmos is trying to make amends.

  You decide that must be so as you choose your clothes: slouchy cardigan over tank top, tight black skirt almost obscenely short, sheer black tights to make up for it, white socks peeking just above Chelsea boots. You're still working on makeup when you hear a creak of the door and the jangle of keys to signal Steve's arrival. 

"I'm almost ready," you call, swiping mascara onto your top lashes. 

You hear him call back in acknowledgment, finishing the rest of your makeup with haste before fluffing out your hair and joining him near the door. 

He's still wearing his winter coat, unzipped to reveal dark jeans and an untucked button-up, his go-to for casual Fridays at the bank. His brown waves are a little windswept as he turns to you, and it matches the roguish sparkle in his eye as he takes you in. "Hey," Steve says, voice low and tinged with heat as you approach him.

"Hi," you answer happily, letting him pull you in for a kiss before you reach for your puffer jacket.

Steve's hand snakes back to your ass, drawing you against him as you tug one arm of your jacket on; you chuckle against his lips, protesting lightly, "Steve, we're gonna be late!" 

"Just wanna steal a minute to kiss my girl," Steve murmurs, and you can’t resist melting as he kisses you again, surrounding you in that familiar citrus cologne. You sneak your other arm underneath his coat to hug him, jacket half hanging off like you're trying to wear his and yours at once. The brush of Steve's tongue against the seam of your lips complements the heat— heat where the jackets drape around your body, heat where his palm grabs your ass, heat in the pit of your belly as his tongue meets yours.

Even without the radiator or your knitted blanket, Steve makes sure you're thoroughly and wonderfully warm before you venture out together into the cold night.

-

Luckily, on-time subway transfers and two powerwalked blocks later have you arriving at Insa with minutes to spare despite your short dalliance. You wander around clumps of people outside until Steve spots your friends near the wooden arch above the building's entrance. Seeing Chrissy's blonde ponytail fills you with effusive eagerness, and when her blue eyes meet yours, your broad smile is echoed on her lips. 

"Hi!" you greet her, arms opening for her tight embrace. "Thanks for inviting us!" 

"Of course!" Chrissy squeezes you affectionately tighter before she releases you to hug Steve. 

Leather creaks as Eddie moves closer, and you can feel his jacket seep cold even through your puffer jacket when you hug him, though his neck is warm as you graze it with your cheek. "Don't you have a better jacket than this?" you ask, running your fingers against the leather at his elbow.

You drop your hand, looking up into dark and twinkling eyes as Eddie replies, "Worried about me, sweetheart?" He smirks, a little crooked thing, and those full pink lips— their sudden phantom press against your own— make color prickle your cheeks. "Don't need one. My blood runs extra-hot." 

You hope your doubtful expression speaks for you and your sudden flush looks like it's from the cold. Judging by the glint in Eddie’s eyes, he’s not buying it.

"Come on, I'm freezing my balls off out here," Steve says, slinging an arm around your shoulders and hastening the four of you inside. 

"Certainly don't want that," you joke, pleased when Steve slants a grin at you as you're ushered to your room.

Inside is one long modular u-shaped couch against the back wall, a small coffee table, and two televisions: one against the front wall and one behind the couch so you can face your companions. Insa is one of the more technologically advanced karaoke restaurants: there’s an iPad for ordering drinks and a dedicated kiosk near the television to select songs. Coupled with its superior aesthetics— rich purple and turquoise mood lighting that avoids the tackiness of other bars— Insa boasts some of the largest crowds in the city, which makes it all the more exciting that Chrissy has surprised you and Steve with this outing tonight.

You shed your coats and watch Chrissy flounce over to the kiosk eagerly before the rest of you have even sat down. She's wearing a babydoll dress— one of those nearly shapeless ones that seem effortlessly chic on the right kind of person. With your curves, you think you'd probably look like you're wearing a potato sack if you attempted it, but you admire how it hangs beautifully on Chrissy. She looks like a cute little sugar-plum fairy as she scrolls through the offerings. 

"I guess Chris is going first," Eddie jokes, sprawling out in one corner of the couch with his dark legs spread, arm thrown against the back like he owns the place. He's in a long-sleeved muscle shirt in charcoal gray, accented by his signature flashes of silver— rings, wallet chain, and earrings that gleam in the neon light. Does he ever wear anything in color? Your eyes sweep him over as you sit, close but not quite sandwiched between him and Steve. Probably not, you think wryly, darting a quick glance at his profile as he grins cheekily at Chrissy when she glares at him.

"Not all of us get to be on stage every week, Mr. Rockstar," she reminds him sassily, plucking a microphone from the lower shelf on the kiosk and planting her feet in the middle of the open floor, hands on her hips. You can clearly see the cheerleading influence in her stance and expression, which is set in a confident mask of gleaming teeth and arched brows. A raucous female laugh begins her song choice, and Chrissy snaps the mic to her mouth to sing the first words: "Yeah, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want—"

Chrissy owns Wannabe by The Spice Girls as she struts around, flicking her fingers and swinging her wavy ponytail as she exudes attitude. "I won't be hasty; I'll give you a try," she sings, cocking a shoulder as she smolders, "If you really bug me, then I'll say goodbye—" Her voice is a little pitchy, but what she lacks in technique she certainly makes up for in confidence. Chrissy pivots around to face backward for the final chorus, swaying her hips until she hits the last line where she shoots you all a foxy look over her shoulder, cocking the mic to sing, "If you wanna be my lover."

As soon as the music fades, you're clapping wildly, cheering as she spins to face the couch with a broad, sparkling smile. "You did so good! You're, like, a natural," you say, looking up at her as she prances over, skirt billowing. 

"Thanks, y/n! I guess I still got it, huh?" she adds, looking to the men for confirmation.

"I'd say so," Steve answers. "I remember, when I was a senior on the basketball team, Chrissy was one of the best flyers on the squad. It was crazy how much air she'd get!"

You watch Chrissy's eyes sparkle as he acknowledges her skill. Eddie reaches out, pinching the edge of her dress and tugging playfully as he adds, "And she was head of the squad her senior year. Lead them to regionals with her own routine and everything."

You smile up at her again, though it shifts with surprise as she pulls you to your feet with startling strength for such a slight person. "You should go next," she says, squeezing your fingers, expression earnest. "Come on, you can do it! It doesn't matter how you sound; it's all about having fun!"

From someone else, the statement may have felt like a veiled insult. But Chrissy doesn't seem to have a mean bone in her body, so you realize she's just trying to be encouraging. "Okay," you say, a little shy with the exuberance of her glee. You swap places and take the mic, lips pursing as you peruse the options at the kiosk. 

Behind you, you hear Steve say, "She's actually a really good singer." You feel a flattered smile bloom at the praise as you choose one of your favorites to sing during karaoke: If I Ain't Got You by Alicia Keys. 

As you drift toward the middle of the space and the piano introduction begins, you see Chrissy squeeze Steve's arm, thin brows crinkled up sentimentally. "Aw, that's so sweet of you, Steve!"

For a moment, Steve looks perplexed at the comment, and you think maybe Chrissy believes he's just saying that to be nice. But you're not worried about it; you're not thinking about much of anything other than what you're about to sing. Still, you’re always most nervous for the first song of the night, so as you face your audience of three, their expectant stares threaten to make that familiar anxiety begin to frost in your chest. Thankfully, you know what to do in this situation: you simply close your eyes, letting the music wash over you before you begin to sing.

"Some people live for the fortune. Some people live just for the fame."

Your voice is pitched naturally lower than Chrissy's and has a bit of rasp, but it's smooth and practiced from years of singing in chorale in school. Yet it isn't a performance, not really, because it's not about that. You stand still, aside from a subtle instinctual sway, unconcerned about moving around for your audience. You're only interested in borrowing Alicia's words, letting them bloom out of you as if they're your own in a way your words sometimes can't when you try to speak. Once you hit the chorus, a smile kisses the corners of your lips as you feel the emotion in the song, channeling the sentiment: "Some people want it all, but I don't want nothing at all if it ain't you, baby; if I ain't got you, baby—"

Alicia is an incredible vocalist; you don't try to imitate her. You simplify the vocal runs later in the song, letting yourself improvise what feels good instead. And throughout it all, you keep your eyes closed, singing with a peaceful smile until that tinkling piano returns at the end to signal the song's conclusion.

There's a brief silence where you hang suspended in the moment, eyes still closed. And then it's broken by a swirl of spoken smoke.

"Shit." The exclamation isn't loud, but it cuts through the room nonetheless as you open your eyes and smile shyly. Your face flushes as Steve whistles with his fingers; beside him, Chrissy's eyes are wide, dainty fingers clasped as she pops up. 

Chrissy wraps her arm around yours and squeezes you close. "Wow! Steve, you really weren't kidding!" You're hit with a puff of expensive perfume as she clings to you, and her billowing skirt brushes against your tights while she sways you back and forth. "Let's do couples next," she suggests, pulling back to meet your eyes. "Is it okay if Eddie and I go first?"

"Sure," you reply easily, sitting between Steve and Eddie again as she heads to the kiosk. Immediately, Steve leans in, lightly knocking your shoulder with his.

"That's my girl," Steve says, hazel eyes shining with affection, broad palm landing on your knee and squeezing lightly. Appreciative, you kiss him on the cheek, stubble like fine sandpaper against your lips. His smile widens as he pats your knee, saying more briskly, "I'm gonna need to get at least one drink in me before I join you on the next song, babe." 

You watch him scroll through the menu on the iPad for a moment until a light brush against the small of your back has you turning to meet wide brown eyes.

Eddie is no longer slouched in the corner of the couch; instead, he's curved forward, left elbow braced on his knee as if poised to get up, though he seems to have no intention to do so as he leans toward you. "You are really good," he says sincerely. "I was pleasantly surprised."

Your nose wrinkles faintly, somewhat amused and at the edge of offense. "Pleasantly surprised?" A hint of a challenge tinges your voice as you add, "What, did you think I would be bad?"

Eddie's face falls as he stumbles. "I—" His eyes dart away, reminding you of the day you'd met— when, at the ice cream shop, you'd seen that pink on his typical black and white. The idea that it may happen again excites you, and you aren't quite sure why.

But Eddie doesn't turn pink; instead, he huffs a chuckle, slanting a glance back at you as his eyes glitter. "Well, I wouldn't say that."

It's obvious that he's teasing you, so you feign annoyance. "Well, you'd better look out because I might take your place and become frontwoman of Corroded Coffin if you keep talking smack." 

You try valiantly to maintain your pretend annoyance, but it's really quite hard when Eddie grins so manically, brown eyes eager as they flick you over. "I'd like to see that, sweetheart," he replies, and it's not sarcastic at all— in fact, he sounds eager, as if the idea excites him. And you realize, as his fingers twitch against your cardigan, that Eddie hasn't yet taken his hand off the small of your back. 

That pink that you'd been hoping for on Eddie's face colors your cheeks instead as he stares at you intently, and his manic smile tightens to a smirk when he notices. A flutter of wings trembles low when his gaze dips to your lips, and your tongue darts out to wet them just as Chrissy calls across the room, 

"Okay, Eddie, get up here! I picked the song."

The drag of his fingers against your back leaves you with a shiver when Eddie rises, stuffing his hands in his back pockets as he lopes over to Chrissy. As he surveys her choice, the door opens to reveal a server with a green bottle and four shot glasses. 

As she sets the tray on the coffee table, Steve immediately reaches for it, calling to the others; Eddie turns, swaying wild curls haloed by neon light. "C'mon, Chris," he says, nodding over. "I'm gonna need a fuckin' drink for this one."

The sardonic tinge to Eddie's voice intrigues you, and you wonder what song Chrissy has chosen as Steve passes you a glass of soju. You all drink together, and the alcohol is ice cold as it slides down your throat, settling into a comfortable burn in your belly. It lingers sweet on your teeth as Chrissy grabs Eddie's hand to pull him into their performance.

Eddie shifts his weight as he cracks his neck to the side, saying dryly, "Just warning you, I haven't warmed up my falsetto, so—"

Chrissy scoffs fondly. "Oh, come on, Eddie. You always sound good." 

"All right," he concedes, a little self-deprecating grin spreading as the music begins— jaunty bass and a jazzy piano that you'd recognize anywhere. Chrissy has chosen You're The One That I Want from Grease.

Despite his reticence, Eddie gamely gives the song his all. Though at first, his falsetto makes you want to giggle, you hold back, not wanting him to think you're laughing at him when he'd already seemed unsure about it. You soon find yourself smiling widely as they play off each other for the second bridge: "I'd better shape up cause you need a man—" Eddie begins, dark eyes locked on Chrissy as she takes over, drawing her hand down his chest. "I need a man who can keep me satisfied." 

Steve nudges another shot of soju into your hand. "Cheers, babe," he murmurs, warm breath ghosting your face before you both take your second shots. It slides down cold and burns in your belly again, but when it's followed by the quick, eager press of Steve's lips against yours, the burn is accompanied by a slight tingle. 

You break away to applaud as the song ends, watching as Eddie leans close to kiss Chrissy. Her hand finds his cheek when he begins to draw back, and when she presses forward for another kiss, you hear Steve whistle again, though this time it's a teasing, flirty two-tone that makes Chrissy break from the kiss to giggle. Eddie hugs Chrissy from behind, walking with her as they come over to the couch, and you see it again— the gentleness in those brown eyes, the softness in the way his pink lips tilt in a small smile when she sing-songs, "Your turn!" 

Steve’s hand finds yours, guiding you to the kiosk. "What do you wanna sing?"

You don't really care what song you and Steve sing right now— you're just content to be here with him and Eddie and Chrissy, surrounded by affection and music. "Whatever you want, babe." 

His smile widens at your reply, and he lazily drags his finger across the screen. "How about this one?" 

Fondness fills you as you see his suggestion is from Dirty Dancing. It's a sentimental movie for you both— you'd watched it the first time you'd spent the night at Steve's old apartment instead of going out. And while eating Chinese food on Steve's couch and cuddling in your lounge clothes seems so commonplace, that was what you'd valued about it: that it was casual, that it felt normal. That it seemed like the beginning of an intimate closeness that didn't require dressing up or fancy restaurants or showy gestures.

"Yeah," you agree softly. "I love that song."

You nearly forget you have an audience as you sing The Time of My Life with Steve, giggling at his characteristically loud, brassy voice. Steve never holds back at karaoke, though he is— by far— the worst singer of you four. But you couldn't care less as he sings to you, "I've been waiting for so long, now I finally found someone to stand by me." And you know Steve doesn't care how he sounds either, eyes locked on you while you sing to him, "With my body and soul, I want you more than you'll ever know." When the instrumental breakdown occurs, Steve grabs your hand, spinning you, strong arms lowering you into a dip that makes you squeal and laugh with delight before he brings you back up.

When it’s time for the final chorus, you give it your all, hopping as you throw your arm wide and sing with abandon. When the song fades out, Stever snatches you up as you laugh, lifting you briefly from your feet to kiss you before setting you quickly back down. 

"You guys are just so cute!" Chrissy beams at you, sweet and powdery soft as she leans against Eddie's side. You hold out a hand to them, eyes sparkling.

"Get up here, you two," you say, excitement dancing like sparks across your skin. "We have forty minutes left, and I don't wanna waste a second."

You sing several songs as a group, all crowded around the kiosk to decide on your selections. You each have wildly different tastes in music, so there's quite a bit of friendly bickering as you negotiate what to sing together. Still, with the shots flowing and the joy of shared experience, you delight in even that aspect of the process. After a number of group selections, Steve and Eddie shoo you girls off to the couch so that they can, as they say, 'serenade you.'

"Oh, God," you mutter good-naturedly, leaning comfortably against Chrissy as the guys huddle close to conspire. "What are we in for now?"

Apparently something entirely unexpected as the guys stand side-by-side, stone-faced while a guitar plucks along. Their faces remain serious even as Eddie croons, "Yeah…" in the most exaggeratedly whiny boy-band voice you've ever heard. You can't stifle an incredulous snort as you and Chrissy exchange glances, eyes wide as your lips twitch. Your eyes snap to your boyfriend as Steve sings loudly, "You are my fire, the one desire…."

You manage to hold your composure until Eddie whines, tossing his long curls dramatically, "But we—"  

You're cackling before he can even hit the next line, and for a split second, his composure wavers, a chuckle breaking through as he continues, "...are two worlds apart… can't reach to your heart—" 

The sight of Steve— the straight-laced banker in a collared button-up, all citrus and sea salt— and Eddie— the hardcore musician in combat boots and chains, all smoke and ink— singing I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys as a pretend-earnest duet is too much for you and Chrissy to take. As soon as the chorus starts, you both flush bright red with laughter, clinging to each other in utter hysterics. Once the song ends, all you can do is curl over into Chrissy's lap, burying your face in gauzy fabric as she collapses onto your back. Your reactions urge each other on until you're hysterical for long enough that Steve exclaims, "Jesus Christ, was it really that funny?"

You hear Eddie snipe, "You both are real fuckin' rude, you know." Your head pops up to see him swaggering around, gesturing widely and theatrically as he grouses, "Here we are, trying to sing about our undying love for you, and you have the gall—" he pauses dramatically, "the audacity— to laugh at us." He turns to Steve, arms crossed, head shaking like a scolding parent. "These girls don't deserve us, Harrington."

"You're right, Munson. Maybe we should find us a new pair of girls who appreciate real culture."

You and Chrissy straighten, exchanging looks of deep indignance as your boyfriends smirk at you. "We'll show you culture," she sniffs, shoulder brushing Eddie's as she pushes by him with you in tow. He and Steve chuckle to themselves, falling back onto the couch as you and Chrissy lean close to assess your options. You find yourself relishing this dynamic— allied with Chrissy against the two guys, conspiring to choose the best song to annoy them. You're giddy with feminine closeness as Chrissy whispers in your ear, though as you notice one particular song, you grab Chrissy's fingers to halt her scrolling.

"That one!" you say, voice hushed but urgent. You turn to her, eyes bright. "That's the one."

She purses her lips, brow crinkling. "Really?"

"Yes," you say firmly. Whereas usually, you would defer to her preference, your desire to provoke the guys has lit you inside, made you bold.

Chrissy must see your determination because she concedes quickly with a little shrug. "Okay."

You grin widely, victory and sweet revenge buzzing in your blood as you grab your microphone; Steve and Eddie’s conversation wanes as they see you standing before them. When you feel Chrissy's dress brush against your thigh, you tip your chin, smirking as you murmur with false sincerity, "We've chosen this song specifically for the country music fans in the audience."

In your peripheral, you see Steve's face crease in confusion, but your eyes are locked on black and white. You buzz with pleasure as Eddie cocks a brow at you, spreading his dark legs to settle into the couch corner, hint of a smirk growing on his lips. Those brown eyes are wide and dark as they hold yours, glittering with approval at the challenge in your stare. 

Your voice is pitched as close to sultry as you ever get as you finish your introduction: "We hope you thoroughly enjoy this."

You never perform when you sing, not really, but now, suddenly, you are. "Right now, he's probably slow-dancing with a bleach-blonde tramp, and she's probably gettin' frisky," you rasp, channeling the drama of Carrie Underwood's delivery. Chrissy sings the next line, high voice also loaded with attitude, and you alternate the verses and sing the choruses together. You play up the growl in your voice as you smolder, any self-consciousness forgotten, "Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats."

As you sing for Steve and Eddie, you suddenly understand the appeal of performance and why Chrissy's face became so luminous after she'd sung Wannabe . Their attention wraps around you, coiling into your blood, coaxing you to rock your hips and shoulders as you sing to them. It's intoxicating, the heat of their stares as you and Chrissy sway together, bodies brushing as they watch you; there's power in it, power that you've just barely tasted. 

And you know, as your gaze flits back and forth between both men, that you want more.

When the song ends, their approval is instant, pretend contentiousness forgotten now. After lavishing you in whistles and applause with Eddie, Steve notes, "We've got enough time for a couple more songs."

"All right," Eddie says decisively, slapping his thighs as he stands. "I'm going."

A flutter of moth's wings begins low at the idea of hearing his smoky voice again— not him singing a song from Grease or the Backstreet Boys, but something that echoes his performance the first time you'd heard him on stage. When, before you'd even known him, his voice had reached inside you, tugging at something that has only just begun to take root in newfound light.

You nestle snug between Chrissy and Steve as you wait for Eddie's song, knee nearly bouncing with anticipation. Impulsively, you take a cheeky swig from the soju bottle, shrugging as Steve shoots you an amused look. The soju isn't as pleasantly cold anymore, but the burn still spreads from your belly, coaxing out a little hazy smile as Eddie returns to the center of the room. You wonder what song he's chosen, thighs pressing together as you imagine harsh guitars or driving drums, as you remember the black and white of his torso on stage at the bar, ink now sadly hidden behind charcoal long sleeves.

You should have known by the mischievous twinkle in those dark eyes what was coming. But when a smooth R&B beat begins, you blink, clouded mind instantly befuddled. Eddie's voice is still that smoky husk, though it's intentionally exaggerated as he drags out the word, "Baby…" You remain perplexed until he sings the next line: "I'm hot, just like an oven. I need some lovin'..." 

Eddie's rendition of Sexual Healing seems to hover somewhere between his real performance at the bar and his joke performance of I Want It That Way. But when he starts slowly thrusting his hips, running one hand sensually across his chest and up his neck, it becomes abundantly clear that he's fucking around. 

Chrissy wrinkles her nose at his exaggerated movements— body rolling, hips twitching with little jerks as his lips curl with amusement. "Ugh, Eddie," she whines, "this is so cringy!" 

And you know what she means— it is cringy, and everyone knows it. But you can't help but utterly delight in the two sides of Eddie Munson that seem to alternate in little glimpses: confident, self-possessed, sharp, and wolfish, but also awkward, goofy, unafraid to be exactly how he wants to be even in the face of others' judgment. And you know Chrissy isn't judging him, not really, but you think even if she was, he wouldn't care at all.

As you watch Eddie gyrate, eyes wide and grin manic, you feel something start to build inside you— a desire to join in his revelry, in this uninhibited display of enjoyment that disregards the opinions of others.

And with your eyes on Eddie's black and white, you act on that desire. 

You pop up from the couch just in time for the music to swell; he holds the mic out toward you when he sees you coming so you can both sing, "Whenever blue teardrops are fallin'…."

Together you turn to face Chrissy and Steve, smiles wide as you sway, arms wrapping comfortably around each other's waists. You extend your hand toward the others, coaxing them with wagging brows and little shimmies of your shoulders to try to get them to join you. "The love you give to me will free me," you and Eddie sing, sides pressed together, hips bumping as you move out of rhythm. Steve eyes you skeptically as you urge him with your extended hand, but he can't keep the curve off his lips for long as you stage-whisper, "Get up, get up, get up, get up," like it's a message directed to him. Steve sighs heavily, smile springing free as he joins on your other side, wrapping his arm around your back atop Eddies. You barely stave off your giggle as you all start to sway back and forth. 

You do laugh when Steve and Eddie squish you between them to try to both reach the mic. Steve attempts to convince Chrissy to join you, who's still watching you all reluctantly, though you can tell by the look in those blue eyes that she's close to cracking. 

"Come on, Chris," Steve wheedles, and finally, she relents, smile spreading on her bow lips as she skirts around the coffee table, huddling close to sing, " Come take control, just grab ahold of my body and mind—" 

Uninhibited joy floods you entirely as the four of you sing together, all pressed close, faces shining with bright smiles and laughs as Chrissy finally gives in, committing to the cheesiness of this song. When it ends, Steve and Eddie wrap their arms around you both, squishing you together as you and she shriek and giggle. Still pressed tight, you all shuffle dizzily toward the kiosk to choose your final song.

You lean closer, dragging them all with you as you see Mamma Mia on the list. "Steve loves ABBA!" 

"You would love ABBA, dude," Eddie teases, and Steve reaches around you to shove him playfully. 

"Shut up," he grouses, though you predict trouble as his lips go tight against a smirk. "I could tell them about your guilty pleasure music, Munson—" 

Intrigue blooms as Eddie looks instantly horrified. "ABBA it is," he relents quickly, jabbing the selection to start the music and, you suspect, to avoid any follow-up questions.

Mamma Mia turns out to be the perfect song to end with as even Eddie, who'd implied his disdain by teasing Steve, seems to enjoy it. "Yes, I've been broken-hearted, blue since the day we parted," you all belt together, and when you glance at Eddie to see him smiling widely with dimpled cheeks and little scrunched lines at the edges of his warm brown eyes, it strikes you, for the first time, just how downright pretty he is. When those brown eyes catch yours, you don't look away from him, drawn in as the song concludes:

"Mamma mia, now I really know— my my, I could never let you go!"

And with that, your time at Insa comes to a close— but the night is far from over.

-

Inviting Eddie and Chrissy back to the apartment is inevitable, and you smile as Eddie opens the back passenger door of his van for you. "Comfy?" He grins, pulling the seatbelt down to press into your hand. "Buckle up," he says, voice warm and teasing as you giggle. 

"You may think he's kidding," Chrissy says, sweet voice floating back to you from the front seat as Eddie closes your door. "But Eddie is probably the worst driver I've ever met, so… I'd make sure you heed his advice."

When Eddie practically throws himself into the driver's seat, hand jerking the gearshift into reverse as he peeks back over his shoulder, the wicked mischievousness in those brown eyes has you scrambling for Steve's hand to hold tight. "I'm not the worst driver," Eddie says lightly, eyes glinting as he adds, "but I am the craziest."

Despite Eddie's ominous teasing, you make it back to your apartment happy and in one piece. In fact, you're practically effusive from the alcohol and leftover merriment despite how you stumble trying to toe off your boots on the welcome mat. Your loveseat is still littered with the remains of your planned night in— fuzzy socks and knitted blanket strewn across the cushions, Switch balanced on the arm. You gather your items as your boyfriend and guests shed their coats and shoes. Once the socks have been tossed in your hamper and the Switch returned to its ottoman, you reenter the living room with your folded blanket to see Steve and Eddie seated together on the big couch. 

Chrissy pulls the knit from your hands, draping it over the loveseat with impatience.

"What?" you say, perplexed as she pulls you along with purpose, but all becomes clear as she releases your hand to run her fingers lightly down your cardigan instead, smiling coquettishly.

"Let's give the boys a little show again," Chrissy suggests, hand trailing up your sheer black tights, fingertips skimming your thigh as you glance at the couch. And you see that heated look again in brown and hazel— the one they'd worn as you and Chrissy performed Before He Cheats . Heat that coils into you, that echoes the comfortable fuzz in your head from the soju; heat that reminds you of the power you'd discovered, the taste you'd wanted more of. 

You palm Chrissy's waist, crinkling the shapeless fabric against her lithe body as you slant an alluring glance at Steve and Eddie. "Yes," you murmur, "let's." Your smile stretches as you watch them shift against the couch— legs widening, palms rubbing on knees, heads falling back to observe the show.

Caught in the hypnotic power of their masculine gazes, you and Chrissy undress each other, peeking glances at your men as you reveal skin little by little. She slides your cardigan from your shoulders, air cold against your bare arms as you lift her dress to tease a glimpse of her panties before letting it fall again, giggling with her as the men huff their impatience. 

Gradually, Chrissy sheds each article of clothing from your body: your tank top to reveal your midnight blue bra, your tight black skirt— which nearly gets stuck on your ass, which would have been embarrassing if you hadn't noticed how both Eddie and Steve's eyes were wide and rapt as it finally bounced free— and your white socks. Finally, she peels your sheer black tights down your legs, revealing a matching set of cheeky midnight blue panties cut high on your hips. You run your hands along her clothed waist again as Chrissy smiles at you with pink bow lips, eyes meeting. You know what her expression means because you're feeling it too: the heady desire practically palpable in the air as it rolls off your boyfriends. The sensual feminine control you have over them in this moment, made more potent together.

Chrissy is wearing much less clothing than you, so you gently lift her dress over her head last, revealing a set of aggressively strappy black lingerie. She runs her hand over your bare waist to settle on the small of your back, and your hand settles on her hip, fingers resting against the thin strap of her thong. Together, you turn to face the couch, bodies on display for devouring gazes.

And devour they do— they no longer lean back against the couch, feigning nonchalance. No, Steve and Eddie are so clearly wound tight by your mutual display, eyes dark and gleaming as you both draw closer. 

You and Chrissy have a choice now: begin the night by approaching your own boyfriends, comfortable and safe; or, perhaps, decide to approach the other man on the couch, whose touch is still unfamiliar and thus tempting. As you glance between them— first at the roguish swoop of Steve's bangs over hungry hazel, the look on his face one you've seen many times before, and then to the wildness of Eddie's long disheveled curls, brown eyes darkened like ink, the look on his face one that makes you flutter with nerves— you realize that your emerging boldness isn't yet enough to steer you away from the comfort of Steve's arms.

You gently pull from Chrissy, eyes fixed on the buttons of Steve's shirt. As soon as you get close enough, his hands attach to your hips, warm and broad and not at all timid as he pulls you onto his lap. You settle, humming as he kneads the flesh of your ass. As his lips find the sensitive spot underneath your jaw, your eyes slip closed to work the buttons of his shirt open by feel. The couch dips to your right as Chrissy mirrors you on Eddie's lap, and you sneak a tiny peek at what they're doing. You see Eddie's thumb drag her bottom lip down as her hands dip to the hem of his muscle shirt. "Mmm," you hum again, breathy and quiet, as Steve sucks lightly on your neck, fingers moving faster to pop his buttons so you can feel the press of his skin against yours. 

As soon as you get the last button free, you pull away from Steve's mouth, dragging the fabric down his shoulders, revealing a dense cloud of hair on his chest. It's soft like fur under your fingers as you stroke him— your favorite thing to do when Steve's shirt is first removed— and you get just a glimpse of hazel nearly swallowed by black pupils before Steve's mouth claims yours.

Your fingers continue to drag through the hair on his chest as Steve cradles you close with solid arms, tongue dipping wet and insistent into your mouth. It's a novel experience to be making out on the couch next to another half-naked couple like this. You find with the doubled sounds blending together— the soft smack of lips, the subtleness of deepened breaths, the masculine rumble of low groans, the high, breathy moans to compliment them— that when the throb starts within you, it intensifies quickly, burning in your belly, building insistent need that demands to be sated.

Steve pulls you closer by your ass, the motion dragging your panties against his jeans, catching your clit just right to throw kindling on the burn. When his hands palm your breasts over your bra, your fingers find the buckle of his belt, tugging at it until it jangles loose and you can pull down his zipper. Steve leaves your mouth to press blistering kisses along your jaw; you lift your hips, and he dips lower on your neck to reach his pants, shimmying them down his legs until he can kick them off into a haphazard pile.

You sigh as Steve mouths at your neck, tangling your fingers in the thick waves of his brown hair when he starts to suck a mark, the sting adding to your kindling. And as you tilt your head back to give him more access, you hear it— quiet murmuring, a delicate voice pitched thick and sultry beside you.

"Am I your bad girl, Eddie?"

Your eyes pop open as surprise rushes, and you can't help but dart a quick glance at the couple beside you: sweet Chrissy with her powdery-soft eyes and saccharine smiles, face flushed as Eddie's plush lips drag against her throat when he murmurs back, "You know you are, baby."

Chrissy hums in pleasure, and you suck in a quick breath as you see Eddie's pink tongue dart out to lick at her skin, the sight conjuring the phantom brush against your own throat— wet and warm opposite Steve's sucking lips. You stifle a whimper as you burn hotter between your legs, hips shifting against Steve's lap as he sucks your neck more aggressively. And then Chrissy talks again, still quiet, but yet more shocking:

"I'm just a dirty little slut for you—"

Steve's lips suddenly pop from your neck, and you sway as his nose abruptly drags against your throat when he turns to look. "Damn, Chrissy," he rasps, sounding almost as surprised as you feel. "You've really got a mouth on you, huh?"

Chrissy's blue eyes widen, her gaze darting from you to Steve as she shrinks slightly in Eddie's arms, suddenly bashful. "No, no," Steve assures her, "it's a good thing. It's hot." He pulls one arm away from your back to clasp her forearm, rubbing his thumb soothingly against her skin. When your boyfriend smiles at her, you watch Chrissy's expression soften, a tiny relieved smile curling in return. "No need to be shy," he murmurs, soft and kind, and as you look at his profile— alkaline nose, stubble dusting his jaw, thick dark brows tugged up in an earnest expression of reassurance— you feel a sudden rush of fond affection for Steve Harrington. 

You glance at Chrissy again, smiling encouragingly when she meets your eyes before looking back at Steve. And you notice that Steve hasn't drawn his hand from Chrissy's arm, and Chrissy's gaze is running over Steve's face, and if they're looking at each other, then, well, that leaves you free to search for that pair of beautiful brown eyes.

And you find them— your heart thumps as you look at Eddie to see him already staring back at you, intent on your face. You feel that flutter of wings kick up as your gaze roves over him, heart beating faster at the sight of that dark body armor exposed again, so stark on the pale quartz of his arms and chest. 

Instantly, you need the press of Eddie's inked skin against yours.

You don't know if Eddie can see the desire in your eyes or if maybe he's just thinking the same thing as you— either way, it brings both relief and unbelievable tension when he murmurs, voice huskier than usual, "Do we wanna mix things up a bit?"

The implication is clear, and as Steve's palm drags lightly up your back, lips pressing against your temple, you look to Chrissy. 

Her face is flushed, blue eyes hazy with want as she watches Steve nuzzle against your skin; when her gaze catches yours, agreement flows between you. 

You each slip from your boyfriends' laps, exchanging soft smiles as you brush by one another to switch places. There's so much of Eddie's pale skin on display, so many dark trails of ink that weave across his chest and down his arms. Your gaze drags along them until it travels lower over his abdomen, over his soft stomach, over the trail of dark hair that leads down below checkered boxers, loose fabric obscuring what's beneath. You're willing— more than willing— but looking down into Eddie's dark eyes causes those wings to stir up, to flutter wildly with a potent mixture of anticipation, nervousness, and desire. 

Slowly, Eddie leans forward, gaze locked on your wide eyes, assessing your reaction as he draws closer. He touches you carefully; his fingertips drag lightly over your thigh, feather-light, traveling up, up, up until they brush against the lace of your panties at your hip. And when just the tip of his index finger sneaks beneath it, the touch coaxes you closer, drawing you to his ink and smoke.

When you settle on his lap, the drag of Eddie's warm arms as they close around your back makes you shiver despite their heat, lips parting as you near those brown eyes, that soft nose, that strong jaw, those full pink lips. Eddie tilts his chin up for you, an invitation, and his warm breath puffs against your lips before they finally meet again. 

Kissing Eddie is just like kissing Steve, but also nothing like it at all. His arms are firm like Steve's, and his lips are full like Steve's, and he holds you close like Steve does. But Eddie's curls brush against your neck, teasing your skin; Eddie's scent is muskier, less crisp than Steve's; and Eddie doesn't dive into your mouth like Steve does after three long years of dating. He's more polite— not quite hesitant, but careful as his lips press to yours, not deep or thorough enough to sate the want that's throbbing between your legs. And you appreciate his consideration, but you need more.

You tilt your head, fingers finding his jaw as you press closer, urging him silently to take more of you. Your arousal flutters when you pull that breathy groan again from his throat at your eagerness, and Eddie's arms tighten, pressing your breasts to his chest as he leans into you with his kiss. Your blood sings as he kisses you deeper for a while until he pulls from your mouth to duck to your neck. Eddie licks a path up your throat, slick and hot, and you tip your head to give him room, arms draping over his shoulders, fingers finally tucking into those wild curls you've been admiring from afar. 

Eddie groans quietly against your skin as his hands run over your back, calloused and rough, dragging over your shoulders and spine with a tantalizing rasp. You notice that his fingers begin to linger near the band of your bra, and you anticipate his question before it rumbles against your throat. "Can I take this off?"

Though you'd been prepared for it, as it's voiced, the question makes those wings flutter again, mixing nerves with arousal. A quick breath, the press of your fingers into curls to ground you, and then you answer. "Yes," you whisper, breathing deep as you feel him work at the clasp.

A high moan next to you has your eyes darting to the left for the first time since you'd crawled into Eddie's lap. Steve is sucking at the thin column of Chrissy's throat. You wonder briefly if it's invasive to watch them, but the thought melts as you notice Chrissy's bra is already off, and your boyfriend's broad hand is gripping her breast, fingers rolling her nipple.

Chrissy's breasts are just as delicate as the rest of her: small and perky, with little pink nipples nearly engulfed by Steve's broad fingers. So different from your breasts, different enough to make a sudden flash of insecurity prickle as they fall free from your bra, bottom-heavy.

You turn away from Chrissy, nerves sharpening when you see Eddie's gaze roving over your breasts. The instinctual desire to hide is strong, but Eddie speaks before you can. "Look at you," he hums, practically a purr as he looks up at you, eyes glittering with approval. His voice startles you, and you feel your cheeks flush as he presses you gently closer with his palm against your spine. When Eddie kisses the base of your throat, plush lips soft and warm, your nerves settle; when he nips downward, the flutters take over as you stretch your spine, angling your chest up for him.

As Eddie's lips draw closer to your nipple, you shift your hips unconsciously, body seeking to ease the ache between your legs. When he hums, hands wrapping around your hips, you realize that Eddie is very vocal— you can hear each time he responds to something you've done, and you find you enjoy having that knowledge, that confirmation. When he lifts your hips slightly so he can adjust beneath you, the groan he muffles against your skin when his hardening length presses against your pussy echoes the relief you feel inside but don't voice. He's hot through those loose boxers, firm as he drags against your heat when you shift your hips experimentally again, quietly exploring how he feels. But when his lips close around your nipple, sucking at the same time you use him to drag friction against your clit, you can't prevent the tiny whimper that escapes your lips.

Eddie switches to the other breast, presses his face closer, sucks harder, and you're pleased that he seems to have enjoyed your sound. Calloused hands meet at the small of your back, silently urging you forward; encouraged, you rock against him again. With each shift of your hips on his lap and each hot lave of his tongue against your nipples, you stoke each other's fires, clear in how you throb harder and he hardens further beneath you.

You hear Chrissy murmur again, coquettish and smooth: ""You know, Steve, I can be your little slut, too."  

You don't look, eyes closed while Eddie lavishes your breasts, but you hear your boyfriend chuckle breathlessly, husky and eager. "Yeah?" Chrissy hums, and their lips smack, soft groans and moans falling from them, washing over you. The heat in their voices— the evidence of their pleasure— adds to your own pleasure, and you move your hips more boldly against Eddie's lap as you hear it. You're enjoying how he's sucking your nipples, each brush of his tongue zinging to your pussy, but your desire suddenly shifts. You use the fingers buried in his hair to tug him lightly from you, pussy pulsing as he startles a slight groan, brown eyes snapping to yours as his pupils dilate. 

It only confirms what you'd just realized: Eddie's reactions feed you, and you're hungry for more.

You tilt his head back, ducking to kiss and suck at the edge of his jaw, mouthing at the pale quartz of his throat. You wonder what Eddie would do if you worked a bruise into his skin— would he suck in a delicious gasp of air? Would he moan, chest rumbling against your breasts? Would his hips twitch beneath you, pressing himself up into your heat? 

To experiment, you kiss him sweetly beneath his ear, stimulating the skin before taking it between your teeth, nipping gently. You feel his breath catch in his chest; his hands take firm hold of your hips for the first time, dragging you against his hard cock. 

And oh, is it so utterly satisfying when Eddie's hips press up into you, wanting you closer as you suck and nip at his throat. When he starts a slow, steady grind, pushing you down against his cock as he drags friction along your clit, both of your breaths deepen, quicken, murmuring small sounds of pleasure into each other's skin and hair. Arousal begins to tighten low in your belly, kindling finally catching fire, pussy now slick and heated.

"I need your mouth on my cunt, Steve."

You flush hotter as you hear Chrissy's words and feel Eddie's fingers tighten against your hips. The idea sits loaded between you as Steve murmurs something to Chrissy, presumably about her proposition, but you can't be bothered to listen as you feel Eddie swallow under your lips, chest pressing to your breasts with his deep breath.

Eddie's fingers find your jaw then, gently guiding you up to look into his eyes: brown burnished to warm amber, lit from within by feverish desire. Desire for you. It makes you pulse again, knees squeezing lightly against the outside of his hips.

After looking at you for a moment, Eddie draws closer, soft nose brushing your ear. "You wanna?" he husks, lips feather-light against the skin of your throat. Tantalizing smoke flows, inflating your lungs as he asks, "You want me to go down on you?"

You bite your lip as a thrill pulses through you, and you nod, frizzy curls brushing your cheek. He kisses you again underneath your ear, firmer now, seeming eager at your answer. His eagerness settles into you, and your excitement rises as Eddie kisses a path back to your lips. You cup his jaw as he reaches your mouth, opening your lips for him, tasting his tongue for the first time. 

Eddie's tongue is sweet like soju and spicy like cinnamon gum, but it mostly tastes like nothing you've tasted before— his flavor, you suppose. His tongue is firm and wet as it dips into your mouth, and you press yourself to his chest as you taste him, wanting every inch of his skin against your own, as much as you can touch. 

Beside you, Chrissy squeals as the couch suddenly shifts, and you part from Eddie's mouth in surprise at the sudden movement. You see Steve carrying her to the loveseat; lithe, pale arms wrap around his broad shoulders, ankles meeting at the waistline of his tight black boxer briefs. 

You don't want to, but you start to think about how easy it was for Steve to lift Chrissy, how he never picks you up like that—

Eddie's thumb brushes against your clothed slit, and the thought promptly sieves from your conscious mind.

You find brown eyes by instinct, a little plaintive crease forming in your brow as you look at him. Eddie's lips curl in a smile when, as he brushes you again, you gasp, and your eyes dart down to watch his hand— ruddy knuckles, gleaming silver rings that look aggressive against the dainty lace of your blue panties. You squirm slightly as he palms your thighs, fingers kneading flesh, and you see it at the same time you feel it— the overwhelming wetness of your pussy, the saturation of your panties. The wet spot on the front of his boxers, which you wish was from him but know is from you.

A hot rush of embarrassment pours down your spine as you realize you've soaked through your underwear onto his, but Eddie seems not to share your sentiment. His smile grows, eyes half-lidded and heated as he draws closer to your face. "So wet for me," Eddie praises you, breath ghosting against your lips, inky eyes glittering with approval. When his thumb brushes you again, you shift into his touch, hips pressing it more firmly against your slick heat, seeking more pressure.

A glint of teeth as his smile turns to a smirk. "Mmm," Eddie hums, voice low, husked against your lips. "Good girl."

Your breath catches, pussy clenching as he calls you that— feeling bursts low in your belly, fluttering, blooming up to your chest as you whimper for him. "Oh," Eddie murmurs, voice still quiet but curious now, as if he's discovered something. "You like that, don't you?"

Your face flushes hot, lips twisting as you shrink from a response, but Eddie takes pity on you. "Lie down on the couch for me," he says, releasing you from having to answer. 

You rearrange until you're stretched out flat on the big couch, looking beyond your breasts to the valley of your soft stomach, the curve of your thighs, watching as Eddie's fingers seek blue lace. He pauses before he removes them, on his knees and hovering above you, wild curls like a dark stormcloud around his head, patient as he waits for your permission. 

Your chest heaves with a shaky breath, and then you nod.

The air is cold against your newly-revealed skin as Eddie drags your panties from you, and you bite your lip as you feel them graze your calves. You look up at the white ceiling as his hands softly press your thighs apart, heart thumping as his curls brush your skin, pussy throbbing with the anticipation of his mouth on you—

As Eddie licks a thick stripe up your pussy, your quiet moan expresses your blissful relief.

His tongue is slick fire against your heat, wet and firm on your swollen flesh. Again, it strikes you, just like when you'd first sat on his lap, how he feels different from Steve. The thought fills you with a naughty thrill, the knowledge that you're letting another man lick your pussy while your boyfriend is sprawled out on the loveseat nearby, having given his full permission. You're allowed to enjoy this, to relish the way Eddie's broad tongue parts your folds, the way he drags that slick fire from your entrance to your clit before teasing it with little light brushes of his tongue-tip, little flicks that make your hips shift as he stokes the burn in your belly. 

That burn only increases as Eddie starts to explore you— thumbs pulling your folds apart, tongue dipping into your entrance, lips sucking lightly on your clit, tongue swirling in different patterns as if he's trying to learn you, to seek out your strongest reactions. And when he finds something that makes your thighs twitch, or your breath hitch, or your lips part with a moan or whimper, he does it again and again, a little firmer or lighter, a little faster or slower, curious like he'd been when he'd discovered you liked the way he spoke to you.

It begins to build— the tension inside you, encouraged by Eddie's eager seeking. But it's not the only thing that builds— you're suddenly reminded of what your boyfriend is doing sprawled out on the loveseat nearby when their sounds hit you like someone has turned up the dial and stripped away any filters.

You hear Chrissy first: loud feminine moaning, interrupted as she mewls, "Fuck, yeah— oh, that feels so good, Steve." 

Steve groans, the sound muffled as if against flesh. "Your pussy tastes so fuckin' amazing." 

Another moan, higher. "Oh yeah, shit, Steve— finger-fuck me hard, baby—" 

More groaning, loud and deep. "Oh, fuck—"

Though Eddie's tongue is lavishing you with pleasure, once you hear them, you can't stop the spiral of your thoughts. You're suddenly conscious that you've been mostly silent this whole time. Should I be making more noise? You remember how Chrissy had called herself a bad girl for Eddie, how he'd seemed to like it. Should I be saying things like that? You can feel it: the freeze that begins to creep, to spread along your ribs. And as Eddie keeps licking you, Steve's voice echoes in your head: 'Your pussy tastes so fucking amazing,' he'd told Chrissy. Steve has never said you taste bad or anything— he's never really said anything about your taste before. What if I don't taste as good as her? What if Eddie doesn't like the way I taste but is too nice to say anything? What if—?

When the wet heat of Eddie's tongue leaves you, it almost seems like confirmation of your spiraling thoughts— the freeze travels up your throat, brow twitching with distress until you feel the couch shift underneath his weight. And then he's there: fingers brushing back the hair at your temple, brown eyes staring calmly into your own, warm skin covering you as your thighs part to accommodate his hips. 

Eddie's voice is a soft murmur. "You're all tangled up in your head, aren't you?"

Your eyes dart between each of his as you look up at him shyly, swallowing thick against the freeze. But his warm gaze is melting it; the heat of his chest is sinking into your ribcage. You nod for him.

"Focus on me," he says, ducking his head to press his lips to yours. 

And as you breathe slowly through your nose, lips parting to allow him access, Steve and Chrissy recede. You let them fade as Eddie coaxes you back to him, tongue slick against yours, fingers stroking your cheeks and jaw and neck until you make a breathy sound against his lips and your hips shift up into his, seeking, wanting. "There she is," Eddie murmurs, approval clear in that rasp of smoke he breathes into your mouth. He pulls back, curls brushing your collarbone as he strokes your hair again. "I wanna make you feel good," he says. "Will you let me make you feel good?"

"Yes," you whisper.

Eddie hovers nearby, waiting patiently as you look into his eyes, that warm brown burnished to amber. And then you stretch your neck to kiss him. 

As soon as your mouth meets his, he leans in, lips pillow-soft and plush, sticking slightly as you pull away. You're rewarded with a crook of a smile and a smoky purr. "That's it, sweet girl."

It's like 'sweetheart,' like 'good girl,' except it's so much fucking better. Your pussy pulses, hips pressing up into him as feeling blooms in your body, sweet like a rush of rain. You kiss Eddie again, more passionately this time, hands cupping his jaw to keep him close. He groans against your mouth, hips pressing his cock to your pussy, only the thin fabric of his boxers separating your hot skin. Mouths open, wet, sloppier than before, tasting of alcohol and cinnamon and musk— the flavor of your pussy on his tongue. 

And when Eddie, now satisfied that he will sustain your attention, travels down your body— dropping kisses over the peaks of your breasts, the slope of your soft stomach, the wide curve of your hip— you aren't thinking about anything except his mouth on you: where it is now, and where it's going to be as it travels lower, lower, lower.

As his broad tongue parts you again, your hips twitch up into him, less inhibited now. Eddie groans against your heat, vibrating deliciously, and you feel that fire burn hot in your belly as he noses your clit, tongue dipping into your entrance. He moves back up, lips sucking on your clit, and your sigh turns to a moan as you feel his finger press inside, stretching you slowly. You reach down for him, soft fingers weaving with callused where his hand rests against your hip. 

And it's so strange. His tongue is working your clit, and his finger is stretching you open. But it's when Eddie squeezes your hand, fingers holding tightly to yours, that something shifts inside: creeping, extending into peat, quivering down into soil at the bottom of you.

Distantly, you register that Chrissy's moaning and mewling have begun to intensify, to crest in a wave of feminine satisfaction. But you don't think about that. You're thinking about the sound Eddie makes as you tangle the fingers of your other hand in his hair, the way he moans against your swollen flesh, voice pitched higher than before. Discovering that reaction makes you wonder how else you might make him react. You imagine that pale quartz skin flushed as you take him into your mouth; you imagine that strong jaw tensing as you lower onto him, engulfing him in your wet warmth. You imagine those plush lips spilling groans as you rock on his length; you imagine his brow contorting in pleasure as he empties inside you.

And with these imaginings, you're nearly shocked to feel that tightening in your lower belly, the tingling burn that signals your approaching orgasm. You're shocked because this never happens— not from being eaten out. Not from being fingered. And your breath quickens, fingers grasping desperately onto Eddie's as your muscles tense in anticipation, head tilting back as you begin to moan louder, for once unconcerned about the noise you're making—

The creak of the coffee table is abrupt and utterly startling, and your eyes pop open as adrenaline spikes in your chest, gaze darting toward the sound.

It's Steve, sitting on the table, hard cock trapped behind tight boxers, hazel eyes darting intently between your face and your spread legs.

And it's Chrissy, standing beside him, letting Steve guide her onto his lap as her blue eyes rove over your naked body.

Instantly, your muscles tense for a different reason, your arousal withering under the weight of their stares, feeling like you're a bug under a microscope.

You realize, with startling clarity, that the brush of Eddie's tongue and the press of his finger is no longer stimulating you, that your orgasm has been chased away by your audience. Eddie hasn't noticed yet that things have changed for you, and you desperately want to keep it that way. And it's not the first time you've faked an orgasm for Steve. It's not that it doesn't feel good, that Steve isn't good at it— clearly, he must be since he made Chrissy cum. It's because you can never fully relax enough to let yourself go. 

So you do what you always do: you make your chest heave with deepened breaths, tense your legs against Eddie's ears, but not too hard; and then, when you deem you've gone long enough, you throw back your head, drag your moans out as you twitch your hips up into Eddie's face, writhing against the couch.

"That's it, baby," Steve murmurs, and you know you've been convincing.

You open your eyes when the couch dips beside your shoulder, registering Steve's face just before he kisses you. You open your lips automatically, though you balk slightly at the unfamiliar musky taste on his tongue, realizing it's Chrissy in his mouth. You withdraw your fingers from Eddie then, releasing his hair and hand, and your thighs are cold without the tickle of his curls against them as he withdraws from you. You keep kissing Steve as you feel Eddie pull up your panties, lifting your hips for him. And as the kindness of the gesture strikes you, you pull from Steve's lips then, glancing up at the man still kneeling between your legs.

Eddie's arm is wrapped around Chrissy's waist as she clings to his side, pink bow lips happily pressing kisses to his cheek. You watch him wipe his mouth on the back of his wrist, but when your eyes dart up to his, the ink of his stare— its intensity— makes you suddenly want to squirm.

Unnerved, you avoid Eddie's gaze, pecking Steve one last time on the mouth as you brush back a rogue lock of hair that's fallen over his eye. You aren't sure what Eddie's stare means— if he's expecting you to thank him, or if he wants to tell you something, or if, God forbid, he'd found the experience of eating you out less than pleasant. 

As vague nervousness pings in your chest, you know you need to do something to distract yourself from this train of thought, and the question of what to do is thankfully answered by Chrissy:

"All right, Mr. Harrington." She smiles foxily. "Now it's your turn."

Eddie's arm slides from Chrissy's waist as she and Steve move close; when she settles on her knees before him, you sit up, eyes locked with purpose on the front of Eddie's loose boxers, now tented. While part of you wants a distraction from your nervousness, another part conjures the flush of Eddie's face as you again imagine going down on him, and you feel your pussy pulse despite the lingering nerves. 

You choose to let that decide for you.

"I'm happy to return the favor, you know. Since you got me off." You sound more confident than you feel.

Your gaze darts to his, diverting quickly as that strange intensity remains in his eyes. But when you kneel beside Chrissy, looking up at him, Eddie rises from the couch to stand next to Steve, pale hands hanging loosely at his sides. 

It seems whatever he's thinking isn't pressing enough to distract from the promise of your mouth on him.

You draw your fingers lightly up his legs, sparse hair tickling as you reach up, up, up to the waistband of his boxers, dipping your fingertips underneath as you lift on your knees to press a kiss beside his navel. When you look at Eddie again, that intensity in his face has shifted, heated, turned desirous once more as he watches you slowly pull down his boxers.

He pops free from the fabric, stiff and thick, not as long as Steve but flushed a deep, mouthwatering pink at the tip, standing proud from a snatch of dark curls. You suck in a quick breath as you see him, as he steps from his boxers and his length bobs near your cheek with the movement. Beside you, Chrissy is already working Steve, tongue swirling around his head, delicate fingers lightly gripping the base of his cock— but you don't want to watch her, mesmerizing though her technique may be. 

You want to watch the man standing before you.

Your tongue darts out to taste him, dragging slowly along the underside of his head, and you watch Eddie's adam's apple jump with a thick swallow, eyes locked on yours as you take him into your mouth. His precum is briny on your tongue, and you bob lightly on his tip until he's breathing more heavily. You explore him the way he'd explored you, trying to learn what he likes— licking a fat stripe up the underside, flicking your tongue against his frenulum, taking him further into your mouth, jaw clicking as you stretch to accommodate him. And that flush you'd imagined on his cheeks— you're watching it spread now, relishing the sound of his moans as you suck and lick him, lavishing all your attention on his cock.

Eddie's flush and his sounds spur you on, making you bold. And maybe it's the way Chrissy is so expertly bobbing and swirling on Steve's cock beside you. Or maybe it's your hunger for more of Eddie's reactions. Whatever it is, you're possessed to do something you've never thought to do before: as your lips pop from the head of Eddie's cock, you work his length with your hand, ducking your head and gently sucking one of his balls into your mouth.

His reaction is immediate and utterly breathtaking. 

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hisses, hand fisting against his thigh, ruddy knuckles turning pale white above his chunky silver rings. Your pussy throbs, and you hum; he thrusts into your fist, smoky groans slipping from his lips as you lick and suck on his balls until you feel his warm palm clasp the back of your head, fingers tightening in your hair. You release him then, taking his length into your mouth again, sucking him as you work the underside of his cock with your tongue. 

You may not be as good as Chrissy at giving head, but damned if you haven't had plenty of practice these last three years.

The tell-tale sound of Steve's release— a ragged breath, groans stifled in his throat— is unmistakable beside you, and you keep bobbing on Eddie's cock as you glance to see Steve painting Chrissy's perky breasts with his cum. She squishes them together with her hands, sucking his tip as he gasps and moans, and you're distracted until you feel Eddie's fingers tighten in your hair again. You look up at him then, watching his eyes dart briefly to the side before returning to you, remaining there as you take him a little deeper into your mouth. Eddie's fingers in your hair loosen, but not to let go; instead, he drags his palm further down to cup the back of your skull, voice a husky murmur as he tells you, "I'm close."

You hum a moan around his length, and Eddie takes a sharp breath, jaw tightening, brow tensing, dark eyes intent as he watches you suck his cock. You can feel him starting to twitch in your mouth, and you prepare to pull off and swap to your hand to bring him to completion.

And then Eddie strokes your hair as he husks, "You want my cum, sweetheart?"

The answer, before he'd asked, was no, not particularly. Sure, you'd wanted him to orgasm because that was your aim in giving him a blowjob. But did you want his cum? You wouldn't say so. Yet the way Eddie's face looks— framed by those beautifully wild curls, brown eyes hazy and inky-black with his want for you, brow pinched, cheeks flushed— and the way his voice sounds, that smoky timbre that won't stop reaching, tugging, pulling deep inside you….

Suddenly, you do. You want Eddie's cum.

"Mmhmm," you confirm, humming around his cock, taking him deeper yet, eyes locked on his face as those full lips fall open with a deep moan, and Eddie gives you what you want.

He's briny and musky but not unpleasant as he floods your mouth, cock twitching on your tongue. You pull off until just his tip is inside, swallowing him down as best you can. But there's a lot of cum, and you're not used to swallowing, so it's not surprising that a little leaks from your lips as you try to keep up. 

Your eyes open as you feel a brush against your face, and you only realize then that you'd closed them. You blink, realizing that Eddie's hand is on your cheek and his thumb is wiping a bit of cum from the corner of your lips. And that gentleness you see sometimes— it's there now, pouring out in amber brown as he looks at you, eyes deep and framed by long, dark lashes.

A flutter of wings accompanies the brush of Eddie's thumb against your skin, and you find yourself running your palm softly up his calf, wanting to somehow communicate the blooming you feel inside at the tenderness of his touch.

"Damn, Munson," Steve says, and your spine straightens at the loudness. "How'd you get her to do that?" He chuckles, hazel eyes teasing as your gaze darts to meet them. "Gotta give me pointers," Steve jokes, and you pull your head back, suddenly realizing that your lips are still wrapped around Eddie's cock.

Eddie huffs a chuckle, glancing at his friend as his hand drops from the back of your head. "Well, maybe if you tasted better," he ribs lightly, cocking a brow. "I eat my weight in Twizzlers." 

Steve scoffs, shoving his shoulder. "Fuck off."

You'd felt on the edge of embarrassment, but it recedes as their attention leaves you, focused on each other instead. You look at Chrissy to your side, gaze meeting powdery-soft blue and a kind smile. 

A sudden surge of fondness for Chrissy fills you as you kneel side-by-side while the men argue familiarly. Strangely, there isn't any strangeness between you after having blown each other's boyfriends, but you welcome that lack as she rolls her eyes at their antics, fluttering her eyelashes to imply exasperation. 

You giggle, jerking your chin toward the bedroom. "Come on," you say, smiling at her. "Let's get cleaned up and dressed. Forget the bickering dummies."

-

When you emerge from the bedroom, you find the guys have resolved their petty argument and are sitting at the dining room table, presumably waiting for you both. You've redressed in your black skirt, tank top, and cardigan out of solidarity with Chrissy since she didn't have anything but her dress to wear, though you'd pretended it was just for convenience, so she didn't feel bad. You somewhat regret that when Chrissy wants to talk to Steve about her class again— it turns out that wasn't merely a ploy to get you and Eddie to spend together that first time you'd met— and Eddie says he has something for you in his van.

The air is cold against your bare legs as you stand near the back doors, hugging yourself tight, cardigan not nearly enough to ward off the chill. It’s forgotten, though, when Eddie emerges with a swath of black fabric, smiling manically, brown eyes wide as he brandishes his find.

It's a t-shirt with white graphics: an open coffin and swathe of bats that flow across the jagged name ‘Corroded Coffin.’ "If you're gonna take my place," he says, dark eyes dancing, "you gotta rep the merch."

You laugh as you take it from him, holding it up to your torso. It's at least three sizes too big for you, but you don't care; you bunch it in your hands as Eddie explains, "Sorry it's so big— we only have these leftover 'til we order more."

Unconcerned, you pop the shirt over your head. You giggle as you realize it covers your skirt and fits easily, even over your cardigan, arms spreading wide to show it off. 

You thank him genuinely, then follow up with a tease. "When's my first show? I'm free next week."

Eddie laughs, the sound scratchy and thick, and it flutters low in your belly— the knowledge that you'd amused him. "Hold on, now," he says. "You haven't even auditioned yet."

"True," you reply, smiling as his eyes crinkle at you. You don't know what possesses you— it's a total non sequitur, and it makes no sense to ask right now, but you really want to know. "Was it good?" you ask, voice hesitant and quiet. "The, um…" you work to clarify as his head tilts in confusion. "The blowjob?"

Eddie's brow jerks, but his answer is quick and sure. "Yeah," he replies, a corner of his lips curling in a small smile. "Yeah, it was good."

And had you known what would come next, you never would have asked. But you didn't know Eddie would follow up with a question of his own. 

You didn't know he'd noticed.

His head tilts again as he asks plainly, "Why did you fake your orgasm?"

The words strike like a physical blow, and the liquid rush of hot mortification is so overwhelming that your knees nearly buckle with it. Your cheeks heat, blushing bright in the shine of the streetlight, horror flooding your face as you stare at him. The shame of it— of Eddie not only knowing you'd pretended to cum, but voicing it like this— pricks at your eyes, stinging as they water.

Instantly, Eddie looks utterly stricken, eyes darting helplessly over your face. "Shit, I— I'm sorry—" He takes a step forward, brow crumpling, arms extending, fingers flexing as if he wants to grab onto something— you, the van door, his hair. Something. Anything. "Fuck— Look, just forget I said anything—" 

The sight of Eddie's distress just makes your own distress more acute; you stumble to explain. "No, I'm just…" your chin trembles as you attempt to tell the truth. "I'm just embarrassed."

He looks even more horrified. "Was it…." He trails off and swallows, voice hoarse. "D-Did I do something wrong—?" 

Your eyes widen. "No, no! You were great. I… I just felt, like…." You force the words out, hating how his face looks enough to voice them. "When they came over to, like, watch…." Admitting this is embarrassing, but you're already mortified, so the benefit of truth outweighs the sting. "I just felt kind of pressured, and it took me out of the moment." 

Eddie blinks, frowning less fiercely now, but he doesn't look entirely convinced. But you know by now that he’s kind, so you let that strengthen you. You admit, "I… I've never actually gotten there before from… from someone going down on me. So, it's not you." 

You want to make him feel better, but Eddie Munson is too perceptive; he searches your expression, reading something there. "I swear," he says slowly, cautiously, "I'm not trying to be a dick, but.. has he ever made you…?" He trails off, dark eyes free of judgment, sympathy in the tilt of his brow.

You blush deeply, averting your eyes. Eddie isn't being a dick, but the question is too intimate. Your truthful answer is too revealing. 

"Please," you whisper instead, voice trembling. "Just… please don't tell Steve about this." 

You can feel Eddie move closer, though your gaze is stuck to the giant t-shirt hanging from your frame, concealing your clothes beneath a swath of black and white. When he stops in front of you, body close but not touching, you take a bracing breath and finally drag your eyes to his face.

Those bright brown eyes are so big, and Eddie's touch is careful as he pulls you in, folding you in the cradle of his arms. The chill of the outdoors is soothed; hot embarrassment fades as you breathe in smoke and apples. You let him hold you, burying your nose in his collar, chasing that scent until he speaks relief. 

"It's okay, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."

-

Not long after Eddie and Chrissy have left, your phone vibrates.

You're brushing your teeth, swathed in flannel pajamas, squinting in the bathroom light as you hear it, and when you swipe to unlock it, peering down at the text, you smile through foamy toothpaste.

'If you want to take over as frontwoman of Corroded Coffin, you're gonna need to nail your audition song.' Eddie has followed the text with a Spotify link.

You spit, rinsing it down as you plunk your toothbrush into its holder. "I'm taking out the trash real quick," you tell Steve, carrying your phone past the bed where he's reclining, scrolling on his own phone.

The apartment stairwell echoes with My Curse by Killswitch Engage; it trails after you all the way to the trash room. This is better than Lacuna Coil— it's driving but somehow still melodic, and that first howl is so guttural that it quivers behind your ribs. On the way back up, you pause at the third story landing as you open up your text messages and record the voice note, typing, 'You can send in your two weeks now.' 

At first, you feel silly. But when you listen back, your voice sounds full, echoing off the stairwell walls. And you haven't gone overboard; you've only sung about fifteen seconds, your favorite part of the song, enamored by the strength of the singer's baritone, the emotion in his vibrato: 'There is love burning to find you; will you wait for me?'

Before you can let the rising nervousness freeze you, you hit send.

By floor five, he's answered. 'Holy shit, sweetheart. If you can scream, I'll clear out my desk right now.'

You flush and giggle at the choice of words, the sound echoing loudly in the emptiness. At the threshold of your floor, you type back, 'I'll leave that to the professional, I think.' With that, you slip your phone into your pocket, pushing open the door.

When you return to the comfort of your bedroom, soft light illuminates Steve's hazel eyes as he glances up, a broad smile spreading on his lips. "Hey," he says softly, lips crooking higher as you slide under soft covers beside him.

"Hi!" You smile at him before plugging in your phone beside your bed.

"So," he begins, running a palm through his bangs, mussing them against his forehead. You straighten them fondly as he talks. "I was wondering. Was there anything Eddie did today that you really liked? Something that you'd like me to do?"

Steve's gaze is warm as he waits for your reply. You feel appreciation rise at his consideration, grateful that he'd be willing to change or adapt based on today's discoveries, the things you'd appreciated. 

But as you think about the things you'd appreciated most— Eddie's calloused hand squeezing yours, the rasp of his thumb against your lip, his murmured words: 'I won't tell anyone. I promise—'

You realize that you can't really explain it. That it's amorphous; that when you try to grasp it, it slips through your fingers, visible but not yet palpable.

Like smoke.

"No," you answer, "Nothing really." When Steve continues to gaze at you, you realize he may want you to reciprocate, so you oblige, face open and receptive. "Was there anything you liked that you might want me to do?"

Steve's brows raise optimistically. "Yeah, actually," he replies. "I kind of liked the dirty talk. I was thinking maybe we could do that more."

'Oh, yeah, fuck yeah, Steve, lick my cunt, finger-fuck me so fucking hard, shit —'

Chrissy's mewling voice echoes in your head, words she'd said mashing together until they loom large. Self-consciousness prickles as you imagine trying to imitate her, but Steve's kind face stares back at you, hopeful and encouraging. "Yeah," you say, lips tugging into a small smile. "Yeah, I can try that."

Soft, broad fingers weave through yours, and Steve lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back, hazel eyes gleaming. "Thanks, baby," he says. "I love you."

Your smile softens. "I love you, too."

That night, you dream of smoke and ink. Roots creep, deep and aching, burrowing further down into you.

[mrs-monaghan]

Hi ☺️ you make me happy

Just read your post of Jungkook being the best boyfriend. Can you please make the same for Jimin,,,,?))

Absolutely. It would be my pleasure

Lost diamond is talking about this post.

We can start with a moment I've never seen until 2day....

But we already knew this yes? It's not the first time JK has said Jimin treats him the most. Even during one of the unfortunate moments when JK rated Jimin last, the latter was sure to remind him that he's the one who spends on him the most. So Jimin has always been generous with his baby since the very beginning. Which is why our next moment should come as no surprise.

-Jimin travelling across the world in 2019 for JK's birthday and then doing so again in 2023 for JK's solo debute. Anything for the love of his life it seems. #allthefeels 🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍

Next I just wanna bring this back real quick

(Thanks @chicknbunny13 )

It is not an underrated moment by any means whatsoever. In fact you will see this clip every few weeks on twitter on your timeline. Jikookers love this moment. But, we mostly talk about Jimin feeding JK which it's fine. Really. Its sweet and really nice to see. But all members feed eo it ain't a big deal. So what I like to talk about is what happens before Jimin feeds JK.

JK wants pizza. He stands, looks around, they've ran out so he sits back down. He glances at Jimin's one, but its whatever, pizza is finished. But here's the part I like; Jimin without even looking at JK, just knows what he wants and thats when he feeds him a bite from his own. So either a) He was watching JK on his periphery, or b) He is just that in tune with his boyfriend. I'm going with the latter coz it ain't the first time he's come through for JK even without him asking. That's what sets the moment apart from all the other times members have fed eo.

Next moment that proves how much Jimin loves JK applies to both since it also involves a whipped JK. Analysis time guys. 💃🏾💃🏾💃🏾

This is so fun guys I highly recommend watching it

I went there for this one moment coz I'm a big fan. BTS countdown Jikookery:

JK is the king

and other members are supposed to go appeal to him so he can choose one of them. Jimin of course is very eager

He was adorable saying that. He is calling himself hyung but he's totally baby in that moment 🤭🤭 Suga starts singing this one song and Jimin is the loudest shout-singing how crazy he is for JK

Wbk 💅🏾😏

He leaves all other members in the dust, in his rush to get to his JK. Eager much? 🤣🤣

While waiting JK closed his eyes and looked so blissful. I didn't fully understand why he was in this state

Or why editors put a heart there 😂 so I chose to read that as him praying and hoping his baby gets to him first 😌😌

Since Jimin took off before the others, of course he arrives first

So now JK has 3 options; suga, jimin or rm

Suga makes his case

Jimin wants to make his case with this one thing and JK is ready and waiting

But Jimin only gets to say one word:

Before Suga tramples all over his pitch

So in the end Jimin doesn't even make his case 🤭

RM then makes his case by way of poem

And now its time for the King to pick his partner

Remember Namgi both had chances to appeal to JK and why he should choose them. While Jimin essentially said nothing. So.... the king makes his choice.

But of course 😌😌😌

Editors with the hearts thou 🤭🤭

Jimin was really happy that JK chose him. 🥺🥺 However, anyone who really pays attention to JK during BTS games could have predicted who he would choose 🤭🤭 This is definitely a whipped JK moment seeing as Jimin won unfairly. Definitely some boyfriend privilege involved here. He he heee.

Members play the game and Jikook proceed to win

At some point JK raps and Jimin praises him immediately

If you've ever noticed Jimin praises JK ALOT. I would say he praises JK the most. He is always telling us how good JK is, how talented, how he's good he is at everything. Even though we already know. Jimin never hesitates to praise JK and I for one love to see it. Most recent being the flying yoga episode when first thing he said was how good JK was gonna be at it

Even though we all know he was the king of said flying yoga. Jimin seems to be extremely proud of JK's talents and prowess. Here we saw him drooling over JK bungee jumping so yeah... he definitely likes that JK is so good. Jimin has always been super proud to have JK as his boyfriend. Its a shame antis don't care to see it.

Another thing that shows how much Jimin loves JK, is always being there for him when he needs comfort

What i love about this moment is that Jimin thought JK was puking when he ran over. And yet the first thing he does is grab JK's face to check on him. Vomit be dammed 🥺🥺🥺

Jimin is always there for the members when they need comfort. Yes. But I love love love how soft he's always been with JK. Remember during summer package when JK wrote a letter for Army and then got emotional? I love how Jimin wrote a poem for him after

"My Jungkook" he said 😭😭😭😭😭

And we haven't even talked about how Jimin has always rubbed the back of JK's neck since time immemorial.

When JK is in distress, when he makes a mistake, when the rest laugh at him, when he's confused, when the others talk over him and introvert JK can't get a word in. Jimin is always there to rub the back of his head to make him feel better since satellite Jikook are always next to eo.

Emotionally supportive Jimin is a huge dynamic in their rlship

That last one brings us to our last point since I've ran out of image space; Protective Jimin that one time Suga did the thing. They were reacting to that last concert and JK who as we all know cries the most was being comforted by Jimin. Once again.

Jin is the one who pointed out that JK was crying.

immediately Suga was like;

Yeah... Jimin wasn't having it. He was like; bro you'd better shut tf up.

Pointed a finger at Suga, his hyung and everything. Suga picks on Jimin all the time. It's the most popular Yoonmin dynamic. And usually Jimin doesn't care. But he drew the line at Suga picking on his bae. 🤭🤭🤭 I love this moment sm!!! He seriously wasn't having it and that was so hot of him 🥵🥵

Look at his adorable worried face 🥺🥺 caught JK right on time too.

These moments are endless really, but i will stop here since there's no room for more imagery. But Jimin really is the best boyfriend and you can tell by JK's loyalty and how JK has always made Jimin his priority. He wouldn't do that, wouldn't be so head over heels if Jimin didn't treat him like a king.

Long live Jikook ✊🏽

[neverchecking]

Guess who’s back ✨

Cinderrr!! 🩵🩵🩵🩵 I’m loving the NSFW alphabets so far, I can’t wait for the next one! No rush of course 🩵 But also what you wrote for Quickie in Time’s NSFW alphabet— “Maybe he's fingering you in the dead of night and hoping that you can stay quiet enough to not wake anyone.” Got me thinking.

Maybe I shouldn’t admit this, but I’ve been drinking so I currently have no shame and am anon ✨ but I am,, not the loudest during sex. Literally no noise. Am 🔇. I grew up in a large family and with barely any time to myself, not to mention I lived in an apartment for most of my life with my large family, so shit kinda stayed with me even during sex to be as silent as possible.

Ofc not a request but more so me just wondering, who in the Chain would have the most fun making Reader— who is silent during sex— make the loudest noises? Also I know I said whenever I talk about Chain, it would automatically include Cal and Sage, but Cinder, my beloved, you’ve made me fall in love with Courage and Koridai 🩵

This can be done in list format if you’d like, it doesn’t have to be, I’d just love any thoughts you have on this ^u^

— 🫐 anon

Welcome back, 🫐anon! There's no shame here! We're all little Deviants! Bc, honestly, me too. I also have to stay quiet because our walls are thin.

Drink some water, bestie, and take care of yourself! But also have fun!

Most fun:

Courage. He loves teasing and dragging all forms of noises out of his lover. He takes it as a challenge. And he's playing dirty. He's biting and pulling and nipping and- Having the absolute time of his life seeing if he can pull those delicious noises out of his lover.

Sage. Also sees it as a challenge. Not only that, but he sees it as a way of marking his territory. If everyone can hear the way his silent prince(ss) cries for him and him alone, based on the pleasure only he can bring them, it marks them as his. And there is nothing more perfect than that.

Hyrule. This may be controversial, but hear me out. Hyrule has this overbearing fear of disappointing you running him ragged every chance he gets. But if he can get you to cry out for him, breaking you from your silent streak, it's like a breath of fresh air. He had done that. He was good enough to break you from habits that have been growing from the start. And if that isn't just a pump of pure self-confidence.

Fierce. He's too quiet himself. He needs to hear something, and getting you to sing like the song bird you are? Music to his ears. He loves getting you to cry out his favorite tune. Especially since it won't be competing with his own silence any time soon.

Wild. It's a game to him. Especially if your out in public. He loves seeing just how far he can go with you, plucking your strings until your either forced to muffle your noises or letting the whole world know his name.

Four. He loves using all sorts of methods to pry those noises out of you. It's not so much a game to you, rather a...scientific experimentation. He's using different methods with different tempos or severities just to see what you respond to. And when he gets even the slightest reaction, he's amplifying it by ten.

Koridai. He's all for exploring new territories, including what makes his lover bend and buckle. He wishes to do it more often, but this subby little man can barely get through his own babbles, nevertheless get to yours.

Sky. He loves hearing his lover. It's the wordless praise that keeps him going, euphoria curling his every nerve ending. Of course, he won't go looking for it, that's his lover's prerogative, but when he gets even the slightest hint of noise? He's latching onto it. He's diving for more. Now that he knows it's possible, he's yearning for it. Like a hit of pure fucking dopamine to his lust riddled brain.

Twilight. Loves playing with his Lover. A part of me thinks that he also had to learn to be quiet, because everyone just came and went whenever in Ordon. He never knew if the kids were playing around with his training dummies or Rusl and Mayor Bo were coming over for a talk, so he had to learn to be quiet and listen. Once he has a partner though, he realizes how badly he needs to hear those noises. To let them sink into his skin in his own personal symphony. He'll even let his own out to encourage you! How sweet <3

Time. He has a reputation to uphold. That's the only thing holding him back whatsoever. If you're somewhere private, he doesn't care. He's getting those noises out of you. But unfortunately, you're never truly alone. The boys are either down the hall or somewhere nearby. But sometimes, he loves playing those games with you. Just to see how far he can take it.

Legend. Don't get him wrong, he loves all the noises you offer him, he's just much more focused on how you feel. He's taking in every one of your physical reactions, the way you squeeze around him, the way you claw at his back, all of it and using that instead to alter how he acts. He doesn't need noise to let him know you're making him feel good.

Warriors. He's a captain. He's got people needing his attention everywhere. Meaning he's never really alone. If it's in the dead of night, of course, he's digging for those noises, if only to make them loud enough for him to hear. But when it comes to quickies in his office or in the barracks? He unfortunately isn't allowed that privilege. Doesn't mean he won't make up for it later.

First. Knightly here adores the noises you make for him. But he's so duty bound it's hard to let himself go to truly appreciate these noises. But how he wants to hear them. He wants to let them echo in his ears over and over and over again. A hymn for his ears alone.

Calamity. So me and @mrswritter have come to the conclusion that our poor baby here is a virgin before you two meet. How lovely is that! So he hasn't yet mastered the art of pleasing his lover and not blowing his load within two pumps. You get off, no doubts, but he hasn't quite reached the level of getting past the suffocating grip you have on him after your own release without going through his own. After some more experience however...He'll get the hang of it.

hnng I'm on such a cal kick rn i just wanna hear everyone's hc on him please-

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

PURRGATORY Pt 1/3:

Just today, my submittion, elijah from purrgatory, was eliminated. Beaten by just 1% from 3.5k votes, Elh will be moving on. I shouldn't be terribly upset, as that means people have played purrgatory before and remembered it. What I hate is that nobody has ever talked about it. This was a life-changing game to me, 2nd favorite, and to see nobody singing its praises is disheartening. This post is in remembrance of purrgatory, elijah, and how it effected me.

PART ONE: purrgatory, A GAME BY NIV

music to set the mood

purrgatory is a free-to-play point & click visual novel, created by Niv. Following your death, you're sent to purrgatory, a place between Heaven and Hell, and you're able to pass time in an afterlife where nothing really matters. You can meet and talk to its seven inhabitants, kyungsoon, oliver, numa, sean, elijah, natalie & tori, listen to their stories and try to remember your own. Fur-ever's not so bad, right?

The game was originally created during the "I Can't Draw" game jam, by solo developer Niv. Niv has a tumblr, though is largely inactive. From Niv answering a question about inspiration, "The point-and-click style was definitely inspired by early Flash point-and-click games -- I have to point out Daymare Town in particular just because of how similar the art style is. The story and characters come from my love of slice-of-life character-based narratives like Night in the Woods and Undertale. I've also always had a fascination with mazes and wanted to make a game where people just sort of live and hang out in a maze." I'll be talking about the general story, characters, art, and music, while avoiding major spoilers as much as possible. Go ahead and play purrgatory before or after I'm done with this thing, all that matters is you played it. I played through both major endings while inspecting everything, and beat it after 6 hours.

from left to right- natalie, kyungsoon, elijah, charon, sean, oliver, tori, numa

The gameplay of purrgatory revolves around exploring the labyrinth of purrgatory, talking to its inhabitants, and uncovering what led both them and you here. Nearly everything is inspectable, so click everything you see, and you'll most likely be treated to something humorous. This game loves puns, as the title suggests, and you'll be the one making them whether you like it or not. Every character drawing is traced multiple times over, to create a nice wiggling effect. purrgatory is devoid of color, the residents colors the only ones you'll see.

purrgatory is giant, boasting 80 different screens, and you will have to go through each one at some point. It's easy to get lost here, but muscle memory will guide you. You will first meet charon, the River Styx receptionist. Your interaction is brief, but she'll hand you your form to fill, a one-way trip to purrgatory. After you enter your name and select custom pronouns, she'll mention you're the eighth, "over capacity." You'll be directed to enter the portal and have a chance to ask a question, from, "who am i?", "where am i?" and "who are you?" After this, your only choice is to enter the portal to purrgatory.

From here, you'll meet kyungsoon the hyena, a cat, and oliver the mouse in the library. As you explore past the starting area, you'll find numa the snail in the flower garden, sean the snake and elijah the pangolin in the writing corner, natalie the moth in the apartment, and tori the owl in the station. Each has their reason for being here, and it's up to you to help them. The personalities of these people are what make this game, as each is written realistically and sympathetically. numa is meek and has trouble controlling her emotions, sean died during his happiest days and considers most of his life wasted, and kyungsoon was slothful during her life and never exerted her efforts anywhere. These are all things they tell you as you help them with what little goals they create for themselves in purrgatory.

Despite the heavy subject matter, purrgatory is inserted with lots of funny scenes and dialogue from every character. kyungsoon will make sarcastic remarks at your expense while not showing any strong emotion, sean has a sense of humor entwined with lots of internet and ruanch, and numa has many intense scenes of frustration that got me many times. Speaking of the characters, purrgatory consists of a largely LGBT+ cast! From Niv, "Don’t worry about misinterpreting! Every story is a collaboration between creator and reader, after all, so I expect nothing less than people creating their own headcanons. That being said, in MY head, numa and kyungsoon are lesbians, sean is gay, oliver and tori are bi, natalie is aroace, and kyungsoon is of course trans..."

On music and art: purrgatory has a wonderful soundtrack and sound design! With the low-effort look of the world, the music pairs excellently to the areas and scenes, my favorites being "the warehouse" and "lights out." There are special tracks in there as well, like a rendition of "Fly Me to the Moon" done with meows and a song composed by sean (do not look this up, will spoil). Exploring purrgatory, you'll find the various characters in many activities, such as standing around, sleeping, and laying on the floor. Every character not-still conveys so much emotion, despite looking like this:

There are a few endings, but only two major ones, which I will call "ghost end" and "feline fine." ghost end is the worst ending. While you were in purrgatory, you did not get to know anyone there, and yet for some reason, you're spared. This is the first ending I got. feline fine is the good ending. You remembered your past and helped everyone, and through comradery, found color.

"purrgatory" is an amazing game, which I wholeheartedly recommend. It's free on Steam right now. Please play it. My favorite character was elijah :3

I applaud the dedication, and I very much hope that people are convinced to check the game out. I know I'm definitely going to read through this more thoroughly later and maybe check out the game.

[estrellami-1]

Star baby when you have time could we please have more of the title screen fic? I’m so invested in what you’re going to do with eddie being the streamer Steve has been watching, will eddie say something on his streams that lets Steve know it’s eddie? Will steve keep coming back to the game store to play/ hang out with eddie? This is a cute one you could do a million parts and I would be on board for every one 💜

Darling! I’m SO sorry to keep you waiting!! Hopefully this meets your expectations. ❤️

Title Screen - Part 2

Steve doesn’t come back in just for Eddie, he swears.

It doesn’t hurt, of course, that Eddie lights up when the little bell above the door jingles. “Steve!” He grins. “Hey, what’re you here for?”

Steve flushes down to his toes, it feels like. “Feel free to tell me if I’m abusing some policy or whatever-”

Eddie waves him off and over to the console. “It’s still set up for you! Any plans for today?”

“I’d like to fish,” Steve admits. “Maybe trade with someone.”

Eddie hums. “Your first step in world domination?”

Steve snorts. “Exactly.”

They talk as Steve plays, and Eddie is even able to help him some.

Steve adamantly does not think about the thump in his chest every time he makes Eddie laugh.

He goes back home later and gets back on YouTube. His traitorous brain is deciding to take Eddie’s knowledge as a challenge, so he finds HFClub again and clicks on the next video he hasn’t seen.

“Oh, Dingus,” Robin sings, appearing in his doorway. She grins, a self-satisfied smirk of a thing, when she hears the audio. “Caesar salad sound good for dinner?”

Steve hums, pauses the video, lets his phone drop onto his chest. “D’you want me to help chop things?”

Robin smiles at him. “If you cut the chicken I’ll love you forever.”

Steve snorts, rolls his eyes. “You just don’t like touching raw chicken.”

“It’s slimy!” Robin defends herself. She flaps her hand at him as she turns to head to the kitchen. “Bring your phone, I wanna see what you’re watching, too.”

Steve snorts again, but does as she asks. The video plays, then the next one, and at one point the narrator laughs, and something about it sounds familiar. He wonders if he’s thinking of Robin’s laugh, but hers is rather nasally and giggly, and while the narrator’s is definitely a giggle, it’s got a little snort at the end that Robin doesn’t have.

He wonders if it sounds like one of his kids, but nothing’s ringing a bell, so he finally lets it go in favor of letting Robin’s rambling wash over him.

He restrains himself the next day—the next week, really—but eventually he does have to go back.

Eddie’s there again, grinning at him through the window. “Hey, Steve!” He bounces over and leans against a shelf. “And what brings you in today? More world domination?”

Steve laughs. “Maybe,” he allows. “I’m actually here for Dustin’s birthday present, and I’m hoping you can help, even if you don’t have it. He was talking about some kind of figurine, the last time we talked? Something based on one of your campaigns, I think.”

“Oh!” Eddie grins and scampers further into the shop. “The Hellrider Badge!” He digs through a bin and holds something up. “Not a figurine, it’s for his costume. And may I suggest…” he digs through another bin and unearths a pouch, opening it and pouring coins into his hand. “Barovian coins!”

Steve blinks and holds out his hand, looking at the badge and coins before smiling up at Eddie. “I’m gonna admit, I have no idea what any of this is for, but I’m willing to trust you.” He hands the items back to Eddie, who grins and takes them behind the counter.

“High praise, I’ll try my best to live up to it. You wanna pay now and go? Or I can hold these for later… maybe after a certain game?”

Steve chuckles. “How bored do you get here?”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s usually pretty empty. It definitely has its moments, though.”

Steve snorts. “I don’t doubt it.” He wanders over to the counter. “What’s your craziest story?”

Eddie hums in thought. “Probably the time that one guy threatened arson because we didn’t have what he wanted.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I believe his exact words were I’ll burn this place to the ground. And he wasn’t kidding, either, we had to get the police involved. Thankfully this was back when my uncle still worked here, so it wasn’t just one of us here with Psycho, y’know?”

“Your uncle used to work here? That’s cool.”

“I- yeah? He- I- um.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, blush rising on his cheeks. “He owned it? And then I took over when he retired.”

Steve laughs. “So that’s why you’re always here!”

Eddie chuckles. “Was that question plaguing you? You could’ve asked.”

Steve just shrugs, smirking as he says, “it added to the mystery.”

[multifandomenjoyerr]

oo can u do some hc's for caregiver venti? and he calls his little "my little star" bdjsfdhdk ^_^

☁️ Venti Agere Headcanons ★ Genshin Impact ☁️

🌺 | CG!Venti { Genshin impact }

🌺 | includes: Headcanons and bonus story w/ GN!Little!reader

⚠️ | petnames, physical touch, wine (brief sentence), affectionate drinker (also brief sentence) will have the symbol "⚠️" next to the wine/drinking parts so you can skip if you're uncomfy!

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; laidback, cooperative, careful, and playful is what describes him the most when it comes to littles. He is never rushy with them and is a very good listener!

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; he is also very good on handling tantrums and your frustrations. He never raises his voice and let's you have your fits and say what you have to say. Then afterwards asks if you'd like to talk about it with him

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; he does have rules for you, nothing too big besides a bedtime schedule and self care

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; Bored? No worries! He has things for you to do. They're mostly small chores like picking up your toys or pick up your small messes. But of course he always has awards afterwards.

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; he awards you alot, probably a lot more than he needs too. You can call him a spoiler and it fits him perfectly. when you accomplish something he loves to praise you and let's you pick out something you like! (Toys, pacifiers, etc)

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; petnames! Yes! He's 100% on board on that boat. He calls you many many petnames and nicknames. However, his most common ones being "Traveler" and "(my)little star"

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; He likes to pinch your nose and pretending that he took it. He also likes to play peekaboo, hide and seek, video games and vice versa

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; you're the only one who's allowed to touch his hair. He even lets you style it! He loves how creative his little star is

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; when it comes to sleep (💤) he plays his Lyre for you. He plays a gentle lullaby until your head hits the pillow. He lets you touch and fiddle with his Lyre but that mostly depends. It's not that he doesn't trust you with it, but it's old and it's the only one he has

⚠️ (ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; doesn't like to drink around you when you are regressed. mainly since he can't think right when he is in that state of mind. But if for instance, you regress suddenly and he golfed down 2 drinks already: he is actually very affectionate. He cuddles you, calling you his baby and singing to you in a whisper. He is an affectionate drunk, the only difference between him and his sober self is that the rules don't stick as much

⚠️ (ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; like literally he would be like "hey, little star.. time for bed" and you say "no" and he'd be like "..alright, that's fine"

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; when outside, he loves doing chawk drawings. As well as butterfly catching and picking small flowers in the fields

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; he adores any petname you give him! like daddy/dada/papa/bubba, Ven... list goes on! He might tear up a little if you call him anything at all

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; works amazing with nonverbal littles. He always carries a little instrument with him which you press a key that help him understand what you need. (It took him months to remember the cord code but he got it finally)

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; if not the said instrument, he carries around little sticky notes as well! He's always open for suggests too

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; if you draw/color/etc he will always hang them up on the walls. He loves to see his little artist go to work! It makes him proud

(ᴗ ᴗ ♪) ; the type of caregiver to be like "no traveler, you're too little for that.." or "no, you're too tiny for that, let me help you" orr he holds your hand so you don't accidentally wander off or out of his sight. Doesn't matter the age, he'll always be overprotective at times like this

“papa's here, little star" { short story }

*click*

the sound of the front door opened followed by a bell that rung whenever someone came inside the small cabined house. Venti opened the door gently, making his presence known before he made it fully inside of the house. He closed the door gently behind him; automatically assuming that you were already asleep by now. He made his way through the house while the only noise was heard was his gentle foot creaks and the tv in the background. His hair was messy and he smelled like sweet honey and a splash of dust. "Daddy!" A small voice was heard from the room he just passed by. His eyes widened a bit before he turned to see his little one peeking from the doorway. You held your favorite blanket and stuffed animal tightly in your arms, looking up to see an unreadable expression from his face. His face softened immediately before crouching down to his knees, opening his arms up for his little. You caught the cue and ran with open arms to your caregiver. Wrapping your tiny arms around him, he did the same as he snaked his arms gently around your figure. A moment of silence passed between the two of you, before he pulled away a little to see your face. "Hey, firefly.. why are you up so late..?" He asked quietly. He looked up the clock from across the hallway. You looked up at him with some tears threatening to escape your tear ducts. "...I missed you.." you said simply, buring your face into his shoulder. Another few of seconds pass before venti let out a gentle sigh. Gently kissed the top of your head, rubbing your back in a sense of reassuring you. "..it's okay little one. Do you wanna sleep with daddy?" He asked, looking down at you. Once he saw the nod of confirmation, he picked you up slowly and letting you rest in his arms before he made his way into the bedroom.

He sat you down on the bed, making sure you're as comfortable as possible. After you get covered up, he slipped into the bed next to you, cuddling you to his chest. He rubbed the back of your head, resting his chin on your head. "..I love you papa.." you whispered, burying your head into his chest, hearing his slow.. gentle heartbeats.

"...I love you too. My little star.. sleep well.."

[mayumiiyuu]

Any chance you'd write an Eddie x fem multiple creampie/breeding fic? Dont judge me lol.

A/N: ????? literally no judgement here bc i too, am a slut for a breeding kink fym 😩✋🏼 this gal does not kinkshame !!!!!! u do u bestie !!

warnings: smut, p*rn w little plot, just absolute filth, breeding kink, praise kink, overstimulation, light degradation, dumbification, dom!eddie

Minors DNI, you will be blocked.

You didn’t even know how you got into this position.

You were a regular babysitter, everyone in your neighborhood knew you had a way with kids as they always seemed to gravitate towards you with your kind smile and bubbly personality, going along with their games and wild imagination.

You couldn’t help but gush to Eddie about this cute little boy and girl, twins—funnily enough, that you had just sat for. They were nothing but absolute angels, and being that they were only 3 years old, their toddle speak made your heart melt. On top of that, they had a little baby brother who was just a year old that you cradled in your arms, singing him a lullaby as he drifted off to sleep.

“They were just so cute, Eds! And when I went to help change them, oh my god you should’ve seen their cute little socks! And—and the baby, gosh, the lil baby with his tiny hands, you know he wrapped his tiny hand around my finger as he fell asleep and it was just so cute, literally the most adorable things I’ve ever seen.” You ramble, the sweetest look in your eyes as you laid your head in Eddie’s lap, recounting your babysitting adventures.

He chuckles, and he wants to say that you were the most adorable thing he’s ever see, but you don’t let him as you continue to ramble on and on about babies with their cutesy little toes and chubby cheeks.

You hold his face in your hands, a serious expression etched onto your features.

“Eddie my love, can I ask you something?”

He looks down at you, his smile never leaving his face. Despite being in a relationship with him for almost 2 years, his stomach still fills with butterflies every time he looks at you.

“Do..do you ever want kids? With—with me, maybe?”

Eddie doesn’t know what hit him, but the image of you with a swollen belly carrying his child makes his blood rush to his dick.

He flushed a bright red at your question, scratching his cheek. “I mean, why wouldn’t I? You’d be the perfect mom.”

You lean your head towards him, giggling at his words as you kiss him.

“Glad you think so, god—it’s like I have baby fever or something,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “Eddie, I want a babyy.” You whine as you get up from his lap, shaking his arm playfully.

Eddie has to grit his teeth to prevent himself from groaning, the thought of him fucking you into the mattress to get you knocked up caused his hardening cock to strain against his pants.

You tilt his head towards you, noticing that he was staring at the floor, oblivious to whatever filthy scenario he was imaging in his head as he chewed his lip.

“Give me a baby, Eds.” You stared at him innocently, doe-eyed, completely unaware of his darkened gaze.

He smirks, his hand making its way to the back of your head, lacing his hands through your hair and giving it a small tug.

“Oh, I will.”

Oh, you thought, as you recalled what you did, what you had said that landed you in your current situation; barely even able to think straight as your mind started to fog up, breathing raggedly with your cheek pressed into the mattress as Eddie gripped your hips roughly, heavy balls smacking your clit as he fucked you from behind.

He grabs you by your hair, pulling you up and closer to him until your back hits his chest, his grip switching to your throat. You can’t help but shiver at his touch, the rings he wore on his hand digging into your skin enough to leave marks the next day.

“This what you wanted, slut? For me to fuck you like this? Treat that pussy like my very own breeding hole, huh?”

You nod your head as best as you could in your position. “Yes, yes, Eddie, wanna be bred by you, want you to use me.”

“That’s right, gonna fill you up with my seed over and over again ‘til your pussy’s stuffed full, yeah?”

You let out a scream as his other hand snakes it’s way down your torso to play with your clit. The hand he had wrapped around your throat made its way into your hair again, pulling it at roughly as he pressed sloppy kisses to your neck.

“Fuck—! Gonna cum sweetheart, gonna fill you up—“ He lets out a groan, you mewl with pleasure as you feel the familiar warmth of his cum inside of you.

But you had fucked Eddie enough to know that his balls were always so full to the point he could be fucking you for hours and still have more to spare.

He pulls out if you momentarily, and the loss of him inside of you makes you whine. He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Shh, shh, it’s okay baby, I’ll be back inside of you in a minute, turn yourself around for me.”

Weak from how brutally he had just fucked you, he helps flip you over and onto your back. You reflexively spread your legs out for him as he kisses your ankle up to your leg until your inner thigh, giving it a few love bites before he settled between your legs. He traced the tip of his cock up and down your cunt, relishing in the way your leg twitched whenever he rubbed your clit—but nothing in the world would ever match to how perfectly your walls felt when they clenched around him.

He slipped into you with ease, thrusting slowly, but harshly, deeply into you, his tip constantly hitting your g-spot that had your tongue lolling out of your mouth. Spurred on by your fucked out face, Eddie picks up his pace, fucking into you like an absolute madman.

You swear that you almost passed out from the immense pleasure that he gave you, unable to even count how many he’s made you cum at this point.

His hand grips your chin as he smiled at you mockingly, slipping his thumb into your mouth, to which you responded by wrapping your lips around his finger, sucking.

“Aw, ‘s my dumb little baby that fucked out already? You fucked stupid now, hmm, sweetheart?”

You can barely process any of the words he’s saying, but you manage to give him a nod. He leans down to you and kisses you in the forehead.

“Good girl, yeah, that’s right, let me use you, let me breed this tight little pussy.”

His fingers intertwine with yours, as you grip onto his hand for dear life as he continues to pound into you.

He grunts as he spills his load into you for the second time, stuffing you full.

You pant as he pauses, he flips you around so you sat on his lap, back pressed up against his chest. You let your fingers tangle themselves in his frizzy hair as he kissed you deeply.

“Ready for another one, sweetheart?” He says as he guides his still-hard cock into your cunt once more, letting out a hiss.

“Still so fucking tight for me.” He mutters into your ear.

You sigh with pleasure as his hand finds it’s way to your nipple, twisting at it before he squeezes your breast.

“Gonna keep stuffing you with my cum ‘til I get you knocked up, yeah?”

You hum with approval at his words, gasping as he thrusts up into you.

You were in for a long night.

[itsclydebitches]

Tonight I came across a post (that won't hit my blog until July because I queued it) about how it's unfortunate that "fun" has supposedly become a requirement of video games, given that this severely limits how they can function as works of art. We don't limit other mediums by insisting that they only produce positive emotions and experiences in the recipient, so why would video games be any different just because they're (more) interactive?

This post isn't actually about video games, but rather how that argument got me thinking about RWBY and the recent resurgence of this "Why are you still here if you hate the show?" question. Now, setting aside the acknowledgment that 99.9% of people asking that are merely trolling behind their faux-concern—they have no actual interest in hearing a RWDE poster's reasons for sticking around, they simply want a way to say, "Get out" with plausible deniability—but if we treat this question seriously, I think that post on video games may offer some insight. I have numerous reasons for keeping active in the RWBY/RWDE fandom (initial love of the show, intellectual exercises, the community we've made, etc.) but there is also some level of investment in what would traditionally be framed as non-positive emotions. RWBY can make me feel very frustrated... similar to how playing Pathalogic makes me frustrated. Many of its plot-lines make me angry... the same way numerous video games' discriminatory writing can make me angry. RWBY's community, at times, feels like an insult-laden battlefield... but I've been doing PvP in WoW since it came out, so that's familiar too.

There are so many times when I've enjoyed engaging with a piece of media even when I really didn't enjoy it. Perhaps a better way of putting it would be that I found something worthwhile in the experience, even if I couldn't label that as "fun" or "happiness" or "satisfaction." Sometimes sitting with negative emotions is a good thing. Yes, you can take that too far just like you can take any behavior to an extreme, which is where the continual demands to "watch another show" highlight those posters' willful ignorance. We're already watching other shows. Reading other books. Playing other games. Engaging with a huge, diverse variety of art. Those who gain their own enjoyment from targeting strangers online (and isn't that a significant aspect to all this) want to make it sound like RWDE posters haven't touched a single piece of art other than RWBY in ten years and if they just found something they enjoyed without reservations then they'd drop RWBY like a hot potato. But I'm already watching numerous shows that I love unconditionally and have nothing substantial to critique; shows that have me internally kicking my feet and twirling my hair because they're just sooooooo good. I have that! RWBY is a different experience. It scratches a very specific itch of "I once adored this thing and now it's disappointing, but I want to see it through to its end and unpacking the ways in which it fails is a fascinating, cathartic mental exercise." I can't get that from anything else—not right now, anyway—so why would I want to give up this unique experience to fill my time solely with art that only makes me feel Generically Good? Art I have little to say about because it already feels #perfect to my mind? Sure, I could analyze a show's positives and sing its praises (which I often do), but at a certain point you run of out ways to say, "I like it." There's a reason why transformative fandom is built around the gaps in media: missing scenes, plot holes, retcons, failures, missed opportunities, horrible disappointments. Transformation comes more easily when you're already inclined to change the canon in the first place.

Idk, I feel like there's also an element of purity culture here where there's this push to make people think they must only engage with art that aligns precisely with their moral stance, produces only positive emotions, and invites nothing but praise. If the art makes you feel bad in any way than it is bad and you have a duty to remove yourself from it post-haste just ignore that we wanted you gone the whole time. Frankly, I think we humans can handle a bit more complexity than that? Obviously, as said, you wouldn't want to make Art You're Upset With the be-all and end-all of your media engagement, and this certainly isn't a call for anyone to engage with triggers unless they're inclined to do so, but a story you're primarily here to critique, or—yes—even a bit of hate watching can be "fun" in a non-traditionally fun away. Just because the art hasn't made you grin and pump your fist in triumphant doesn't mean it's not worth interacting with as art.

[mickeys-malarkey]

I can't hold my Bendy theories in anymore!!

I've only got a few people to infodump to about Bendy IRL, I'm just so excited after watching the BATDR trailer and reading all the new theories that I can barely sleep or get any work done, and now that we have an official release date they can't chicken out if my theories are correct rofl. So, here I go!

Fair Warning: There's no way to avoid it, this is gonna have so many spoilers for all the current Bendy games and books (well, except BINR. But there's also not really a story in that one) that I'm just gonna have to assume that if you're still reading past this point, you've either already played/read the entire series (obviously minus BATDR) or you don't care about spoilers!

Pt. 1/3: Expanding (Mostly) On My TIOL Thoughts

As I said in my thought summaries here and on Twitter, I hate Nathan Arch. Dude literally sets off every single alarm bell I have, I don't understand why nobody else seems freaked the heck out by him… *shudders* I'm convinced that he's the answer to theMeatly's question.

To start off, I'd like to point out that… Nathan says his notes exist to “provide context for the contemporary reader,” which sounds like he's just gonna be stating general historical facts every reader would've known when the book was originally published but might not know when it was republished and are necessary to understanding what Joey's saying. But that's not what the notes are like at all? They actually consist of very personal information that readers at the time of original publication couldn't possibly have known and definitely aren't necessary to understanding what Joey's saying; and the vast majority seem to specifically be either 1: flip-flopping between singing Joey's praises and making remarks he really shouldn't be making if he were actually trying to dispel the negative rumors around the man as he claims, or 2: confirming or denying descriptions of himself?? 🚨

It feels like he's trying to manipulate us into seeing Joey as a genius and saint whose inventions we should accept with open arms whilst simultaneously positioning the guy as a scapegoat to take all blame in case we don't, and into seeing Nathan himself as an intelligent and kind man who definitely respected and admired Joey and, of course, would never, ever mistreat him, preemptively discrediting any rumors about him being an abusive friend that might crop up. Even when Joey makes comments that in no way cast him in a bad light— Joey be like “oh Nathan loved creative people and even though he would never understand us wanted to be us” and Nathan be like “actually no I like myself fine, and also no I dislike creatives in general, they're boring and too self-indulgent. It's specifically Joey that I admired, and therefore I admired his creativity specifically by extension. Isn't it just like Joey not to see the compliment—?” Um, no?? No, Nathan, that sounds absolutely nothing like Joey; he's literally been enraptured by every statement or action that could possibly be construed as complimenting him in this book. Did you just indirectly end your relationships with every other creative you've ever met so that nobody would believe anyone who claims that you looked down upon Joey? 🚨🚨

Let me get into some of the more unique notes from Nathan.

“The first time I read this [Elves and the Shoemaker] story it meant a great deal to me. Joey, as he said in his introduction, was never one to talk about his past. He never spoke about his parents. I certainly never met them. I don't even remember how I learned his father made shoes. So to get a glimpse back at this part of his life, for an old friend, it was very special. I remember telling Joey all this after I read the manuscript back in ‘41. He just smiled.” ~ Nathan Arch, The Illusion of Living, pg. 23

With the way this note happens right before Joey practically spells out that he trusts nobody and denies everyone even the most innocuous information out of self-preservation in the very next story, it does not feel like Nathan's sharing a heartwarming moment between friends. It feels like he's bragging about his position and accomplishments in their predator-and-prey relationship; like he's proud of himself for slowly breaking Joey down and eventually getting him to divulge info he'd been denying him. If your parents lived nearby and were perfectly lovely people, why do you think that you would neither talk about them with nor introduce them to someone who was supposedly one of your closest friends? I'll get into why I think he finally gave the info up in a bit.

In the Lottie story, if Nathan had only said that he wasn't sure the letter exchange had actually happened, I would've been like “yeah sure, we all know Joey's a liar. 🤷🏻‍♀️” But no, he specifically eases us from confirmation of Eckhart and Donaldson's existences even though he claims to have only briefly met them, to claiming Joey was such a good storyteller he could make you think you personally met someone who never existed even if he'd literally just told you that they were imaginary, to casting doubt on the very existence of a girl he was described as having been known by name to outside of the letter exchange.

“I met Joey the following year at the lab and only briefly had the chance to meet [Private Donaldson and Private Eckhart]. They were every bit the characters Joey describes them to be.” ~ Nathan Arch, The Illusion of Living, pg. 27

“When I first read this I forgot, despite Joey saying as much, that this was fiction, and spent far too much time racking my brain over who this James [who Joey says he told Lottie he met when he came by the lab to say hi to me] was. Joey is so good with his storytelling that even when he tells you it's not real, you can forget a moment later.” ~ Nathan Arch, The Illusion of Living, pg. 37 (emphasis added)

“I have gone through every piece of correspondence Joey ever saved as part of my work preserving his memory and documenting his life, and I must confess I was looking forward to reading Lottie's letters in person, having been moved to tears reading this part of the manuscript thirty years ago. Unfortunately, I have not been able to find them. It is possible they were lost to time, and I do deep down hope that to be true. However, even if this story is revealed to be one of Joey's excellent fictions, I think it doesn't really matter. Joey would, of course, call it another example of his illusion. I think the message in the story is meaningful regardless whether it really happened or not. And regardless if Lottie actually herself existed or not, she is a fine embodiment of the brave women who served our country in war.” ~ Nathan Arch, The Illusion of Living, pg. 41 (emphasis added)

I absolutely do not think this is a reality check, I think Nathan's trying to erase Lottie's existence – even gaslighting anyone who knew her in real life into thinking they'd imagined her – to throw us off the “Joey's Illusion of Living ‘philosophy’ is literally just the coping mechanism of an extremely traumatized man” scent; I wonder if Lottie actually fell victim to suicide shortly after writing to Joey that she was spiraling into a deep, dark depression, and Joey made up everything that happened after that specific letter in order to cope with the loss – pretend that “my dear friend isn't dead despite being sent somewhere there was no actual fighting where I thought she'd be safe; I saved her life and she's living a Happily Ever After overseas, married to a handsome young British soldier” – rather than just the goodbye letter to wrap her story up in a neat bow… Maybe Nathan even helped him pretend she was still alive in order to endear himself to this literal kid who was destroyed with grief?

Speaking of which, does nobody find the circumstances under which Nathan and Joey met… concerning? Nathan says “we knew each other since we were teenagers,” which sounds fine until you realize they met because Joey lied about his age and joined the army while still a minor, where he was bullied and pressured into things like underage drinking by grown-@$$ legal adults, multiple of which were also of higher rank. And not only was Nathan one of those grown-@$$ legal adults of higher rank and definitely bullying him just like the others (“I swear I definitely didn't join the other guys in giving him that Real Man™ complex of his like he says—” yeah, sure, Nathan, I totally believe you /s. 🙄), but clearly his horrifying apparent hobby that I'll explain next was already established at the time, seeing as Joey saw the photo of Ivan Newsome dying in agony with his own eyeballs when Nathan introduced him to Walter Richmond… 😬🚩

I'm convinced that Walter, Arthur, and Isabel were three of Nathan's previous victims, and they mirror the relationships he has with Joey, Allison, and Susie.

Walter looking at Nathan “as if asking permission to speak” before engaging Joey in conversation (Nathan nudges us towards believing they had no prior relationship by stating that he was flattered by Joey's observation that he had a way of introducing anyone so that it felt like they were his guest even if he'd just met them… but technically neither confirms nor denies anything 👀) has creepily similar vibes to how Joey “just smiled” in response to Nathan's gushing over the info on his parents; I feel like Joey gave up the info because he had to jump through hoops in order for Nathan to give him permission to publish his book— to be able to get the thing out the door without tripping any of Nathan's “Joey's disobeying and must be punished” alarms. Also, notice how Walter mysteriously had “a lot of people who knew him, but nobody who wanted to claim the title of ‘Walter's friend…’” and how the only people Joey's apparently still in contact with in BATIM are A: one of Nathan's (confirmed) employees, B: a janitor who didn't even realize Joey would remember him so definitely doesn't have enough of a relationship with Joey for Nathan to consider him a threat, and C: a shady veterinarian (wouldn't be surprised if he works for Nathan, as well). It's a classic abuser's tactic to isolate and villainize their victim so that they have no choice but to rely on the abuser; I'll get into more reasons I think that was happening in a bit.

I find it suspicious how Arthur not only personally delivers Ivan's effects to his sister Isabel, just tells her what happened which you'd expect someone with such fresh and debilitatingly severe PTSD to be very reluctant to do, and sticks around to befriend her, but also attends her art show showcasing Walter's war photos— it feels like someone was forcing Arthur to do all of this behind-the-scenes, and maybe the firecracker scene wasn't just about Isabel punishing the rich people for their morbid fascinations, but also Nathan punishing Arthur for being difficult about the situation behind-the-scenes. Meanwhile, Joey just happens to hire this random voice actress to replace Susie who we know just happens to be working for Nathan by the time BATIM happens, the memo that she had been hired specifically marked “don't deliver to Susie” just happens to make it into Susie's possession (seeing as she paraphrases it to Henry), Allison seems to know full well that Joey can't fire her when he tries to in DCTL, and then, by TLO, something has apparently happened to where Tom's been rehired which neither he nor Joey had any choice in and he doesn't wanna talk to anyone about (I doubt it was just all the deaths in DCTL, especially considering Joey went from his furious “I never want to see you again” attitude to begging Tom to come back. We've only heard him beg once before, which I'll get into later), and Tom and Allison have bizarrely switched opinions on the situation and machine (Allison changing from “your invention is amazing, Tom! Why are you stuck on the bad parts of the situation?” in DCTL to “I don't understand why you accepted this job back” in TLO, and Tom changing from “horrible things happened because of my machine, I wish I'd never been ensnared by this place” in DCTL to “why doesn't Ally understand? You don't just abandon a miracle” in TLO)—? It seems to me like Allison was never truly Joey's employee, she was Nathan's employee the whole time (which puts Joey's refusal to attend her and Tom's wedding in a whole new light), and Joey wasn't the only one punished for his failures and attempts to override the steel tycoon's authority.

To reiterate, since I saw some people being confused about the massive change: even with the memory loss issue, Allison's opinion in BATDR is just a natural progression from when the something happened between DCTL and TLO. 😛😬

Anyways, I get the distinct impression that creating situations like these to turn people into murder puppets without anyone being the wiser he was even involved is a hobby of Nathan's.

“…I am glad that he wrote [the murder mystery story] down this one time. It helps me to remember Joey at his most charming and sharp. Later years he became too fixated on things he might have gotten wrong, there was too much guilt and worry, too much fear. It didn't feel like the same man at the end, that's for sure.” ~ Nathan Arch, The Illusion of Living, pg. 98

You can't tell me that doesn't sound like he gets off on seeing how absolutely ruthless he can make his victims whilst still having them believe they're in the right and he's bitter as heck that one of his favorite pet projects came to his senses and was haunted by his conscience later in life— he literally just admitted he preferred a Joey who admired a murderer and thought that allowing people to die and getting murdered himself must've been worth it for Walter because now he has the immortality of being in a fascinating story instead of having lived in mediocrity over a Joey who felt guilt.

On that note, I absolutely do not believe Nathan's note on Henry's story was him trying to get the truth out about Henry being a despicable person. This is actually the chapter that first clued me in on Nathan's creepiness when I did my ADHD “skim the whole book except reading all the way through anything that looks especially interesting before properly reading” thing I do.

“Joey has always been a professional person, far more so in many ways than me. That is why this section of the book is so forgiving of the man who abandoned the studio he helped create. Joey can't help but see the good in people. That being said, as a good friend of Joey's, I know that Henry's departure was a great upheaval for him and a great personal betrayal. Joey never truly forgave Henry, and I don't think he should have felt obligated to. The fact that Joey is so gracious in this part of the book is a reflection of his incredible generosity in allowing Henry Stein to be stainless in the eyes of history. I think, had he lived longer, Joey might have in later years called it his greatest illusion.” ~ Nathan Arch, The Illusion Of Living, pg. 155

At first I found his saltiness funny, but then I read Joey's actual descriptions and… he's very clearly trying and failing to put down an amazing person, not build up a horrible one. I wondered why Nathan would be claiming the opposite and I realized— it sounds like he's admitting to being Dead Sea Level salty that Joey got terminally ill specifically because he's certain that, if he hadn't, he would've eventually been able to fully convince Joey that Henry was the villain rather than himself and therefore Joey wouldn't have reached out to the animator towards the end of his life in BATIM. Which leads me to my next observation:

I think Joey's play, “The Angel and The Devil,” was about Henry and Nathan.

I don't care that the Shoulder Angel is played by Abby and the Shoulder Devil is played by Joey, lol; that doesn't matter when you look at the actual content. I want you to read this excerpt:

Angel: [Empathy] is a wonderful talent that also leads [humans] down dark paths. Devil: Thank goodness for dark paths, they lead all great artists to their greatest creations. Angel: Empathy is your provenance then? Devil: We share it— for you it leads men to reach out and help, build hospitals, begin charities… Angel: For you it allows men to achieve their greatness through manipulation and fear. Devil: Is it not wonderful?

Going back to the murder mystery story, Walter and Isabel's thought processes perfectly match what the Shoulder Devil in Joey's play is described as using empathy to inspire humanity to do:

Walter was inspired to let Ivan die so that his photo – his art – would have a more compelling story that tugs at the heartstrings.

Isabel was inspired to kill Walter for the crime of letting Ivan die, masterfully manipulating her confession so that it technically wasn't a confession, instilling fear of herself in everyone present with the fact that if she did do it then she was untouchable legally thanks to her money, and finally, she was fully convinced that she would also be untouchable socially— even be better off, because people would see her as a hero for delivering justice to a monster like Walter.

Going back to BATIM, Joey literally says this to our faces:

“The truth is, you were always so good at pushing, Henry… Pushing me to do the right thing. You should've pushed a little harder.” ~ Joey Drew, Bendy and the Ink Machine, ch. 5

Does that not sound like Henry was good at using empathy to inspire kindness/etc. the way the Shoulder Angel is described as doing (Joey's actually very right that empathy is a morally neutral phenomenon that can be used for good or evil! *Spoken with hyper-empathetic autistic/low-to-no-empathy autistic solidarity*)?

The Angel and Devil also say that whichever of them the man they were assigned to doesn't choose will have to leave. This tells me that the ending of Joey's play – where it's implied the man the angel and devil were assigned to chose the angel – was read rather than acted out (with the excuse that they for some reason couldn't pick a random person to play him out of the crowd like they did for the Hatcheck Girl) in order to symbolize how Joey wanted to choose his true friend and make the toxic one leave, but he had that choice taken away from him when Henry was driven away despite his best efforts. In other words, I think both his version of the friend breakup story and Henry's version have elements of truth and deception to them.

Anybody notice that it seems like Wally and Tom seemed to have been being pitted against and told lies about each other as well as having their work sabotaged by an unknown third party?

“So here's my beef with this whole Gent thing. I went to school, yeah that's right— me! Star Student at Brickmore High. I know my potatoes! So where's this ‘Mr. Connor’ fella get off telling me what to do? These college boys. They can tell ya what's wrong but if you try to fix it on ‘em. They're outta here!” ~ Wally Franks, Boris and the Dark Survival

“Not all of us are well connected, son. Not all of us have chances. Especially to get a job as an engineer when I ain't had no proper education and training.” ~ Thomas Connor, Dreams Come to Life, pg. 252

“If there's one loose bolt around here we're gonna have a whole mess of trouble. And wouldn't you know it, that Wally guy is one loose bolt! He keeps the floors clean he says, he didn't sign on for no science project. All I know is someone needs to keep these pipes maintained. And he can't be a slacker.” ~ Thomas Connor, Boris and the Dark Survival

Wally thinks he's being looked down upon for not having gone to college like Tom (who didn't go to college) and his efforts to help out are not just unappreciated but met with unreasonable emotional response. Meanwhile, Tom thinks Wally's being selfish and lazy and leaving all the work to be done by him. Sound familiar?

“…Henry left for his own reasons, and the correspondence between us became less and less. To be honest, it almost felt like a weight off when he left. He had grown more sensitive as the studio became more successful and giving him pep talks had become exhausting for me. All the good qualities he brought, the hard work and diligence, were being undermined by a restless need for something different. Something that wasn't Bendy. I'll never understand that drive. Bendy was and is perfection.” ~ Joey Drew, The Illusion of Living, pg. 176-177

“Only two weeks into this project and already it's gotten interesting. Joey is a man of ideas… And only ideas. When I agreed to start this whole thing with him I thought there would be a little more give and take. Instead I give, and he takes. I haven't seen Linda for days now. Still, someone has to make this happen. When in doubt, just keep drawing Henry. On the plus side, I've got a new character I think people are gonna love.” ~ Henry Stein, Bendy and the Ink Machine, ch. 3

Joey thinks that Henry was being unreasonably emotional and looking down upon Bendy as not good enough (when he obviously loved the character/cartoons), and that his efforts to help were unappreciated. Meanwhile, Henry thinks Joey was being a selfish, lazy leech and leaving all the work to be done by him.

Is it really a stretch at all to wonder if Henry and Joey were similarly being pitted against and told lies about each other as well as having their work sabotaged by an unknown third party? Maybe the exact same third party?

This makes me very suspicious about who was really behind the worrying newspaper in Joey's apartment; something tells me that Joey's Shoulder Devil successfully pushed his Shoulder Angel off that right shoulder. Twice. I can see Nathan thinking “fine, if you won't give up on this stupid animator, I'll use this opportunity to remove him from the picture permanently and poetically…”

Is Joey's being so touched by the memory of Isabel “angelically” helping Arthur during his war flashbacks an “I wish my Shoulder Angel would come save me?” And is his horror at the descriptions of Shell Shock (PTSD) as basically a time loop foreshadowing that he ends up trapped in a real time loop, himself, by Nathan's sadistic design? I think it's likely, especially after reading @dreamfisher-nux's posts speculating on Wilson's identity. If he's the Gent worker who stole Shaun's tool belt in BATDS and “somebody” who stole Tom's invention in Allison's BATIM Chapter 5 letter, and that invention was the seeing tool, so Wilson's the one that's been tampering with Henry's invisible messages, and he potentially murdered Henry and Joey when Henry returned at Joey's request… How much of this and how much more might he have been doing under Nathan's influence? Is he another one of Nathan's Murder Puppets? 👀

I think all the Henry stuff also explains why Joey claims that Sammy, Jack, and Norman were hired after Mr. Animator left despite the evidence in BATIM and DCTL that Sammy and Norman knew him personally. The only two versions of events he's being allowed to hear are “Henry leaving is your fault and your feelings about the situation are unreasonable” and “Henry was an awful person, you should be glad he's gone.” Nathan would never allow him to hear “it's Nathan's fault and your feelings about the situation are valid,” so he's gotta choose between believing two very painful other options; why wouldn't he try to discredit the most painful one?

While we're adding to the list of people who Nathan seems to have made disappear Mafia Boss-style, it sure seems awfully convenient that the two main Crack-Up Comics artists’ names “appear to have been lost to time” after they wrote a comic where Bendy (Joey) was literally sweating over how Boswell (Nathan) was the richest cat in the world and could crush him like a bug if he didn't perform his job to satisfaction…

…Sounds to me like Nathan did something to shut these two people up so that word of the true nature of his and Joey's relationship wouldn't get out.

Also, interesting how the disappearances of not only a reporter-in-training and the sister of two well-known entertainers but also the only son of the richest, most influential and most dangerous man in Atlantic City didn't get Mr. Joey “Bankrupt From Impulsive Spending Who Apparently Doesn't Even Have The Power To Fire His Own Employees (and ‘Employees’) Nor The Respect Of Enough People To Not Be Giggled At And Whispered About During His Own Speech At His Own Party” Drew and all of his employees arrested or worse… In fact, from the new teaser and archive images that came out, we now know the studio survived for almost two years afterwards before filing bankruptcy and closing forever…

…at which point Joey was mysteriously missing for a while. This is pretty much pure speculation, but I wonder if it could be that Joey's need for a wheelchair stems from an injury sustained in this time? Mr. Mafia Boss decided he needed his kneecaps busted or something?? At any rate, it sounds to me like Joey had someone richer, more influential, and more dangerous than Mr. Chambers “on his side…” until he failed too many times, and needed to be punished more severely? 👀

“Again I shook my head. Didn't [Constance] understand that this was not how it worked? She hadn't lived in my world. Any company that could afford such a machine, that could hide it, that had such dark huge secrets, they had to be protected by something huge as well.” ~ Bill Chambers, Bendy: The Lost Ones, pg. 191

Then, ink machine things continued at Gent… until the year Allison and Tom got married.

Sounds to me like Gent might've been condemned in order to punish Allison and Tom either for the very fact that they got married (making them more-difficult-to-control puppets) or because they failed to get Joey to come to their wedding where Nathan could access him in-person again…

This archive entry sounds as if Joey had to go into hiding, perhaps to escape Nathan and/or people like Bill's dad who were waiting for Nathan to rescind his protection? Also, as an animation history nerd, it sounds to me like the Bendy cartoons were picked up by other studios besides Archgate in attempt to reboot them after JDS kicked the bucket (as has happened to countless cartoons whose original studios kicked the bucket in real life, e.g., the Fleischer cartoons, the Hanna-Barbera cartoons, the Veggie Tales cartoons, etc.), and it wouldn't surprise me if these “minor attempts to rekindle the magic” were Joey's feeble attempts at keeping what was left of Bendy out of Nathan's claws. Remember, Nathan didn't say in Crack-Up Comics that he “inherited” the Bendy IP from Joey's estate, he said he bought it, as further confirmed in the final archive entry.

This means Joey did not leave Bendy to Nathan in his will. In fact, it sounds like he either didn't have a will at all or it was destroyed when he died… Anyone notice that Joey's secret BATDS recording, where he asks Nathan for money, is the only time we've heard him sound audibly nervous?

Strange how, in DCTL, Joey calls Bertrum “Bertrum” when introducing him to the most uncomfortable person at his party, who respects him as his boss; it's not until the people who hold financial power over him start whispering and giggling that he introduces him as “Bertie,” as if he wasn't specifically trying to slight Bertrum as the man in question assumed, but instead was trying to assert to all the hungry cats in the room that he was also a cat, rather than a tasty lil mouse for them to devour… Nathan is worse than them? He's able to break Joey's facade of confidence that this crowd of investors could only make him reinforce? What's worse, the investors he tries to persuade like he does everyone else, convince that they should give him money because everything's great… but Nathan, who's supposedly his friend, he begs for money, saying that the one-and-only reason he's asking this is because the situation is dire (implying he has no choice). That's… worrisome.

Funny how, across DCTL, TIOL, and TLO, Joey consistently pulls or feels the urge to pull his cruel pranks on people anytime a new person seems to be hiding things from him or trying to take advantage of him. Buddy after being caught stealing art supplies? Bill after being caught lying about not having knowledge of the ink machine? Sammy when he suspected his deadpan-&-monotone-ness was an act and that he didn't respect him? Almost seems like the pranks are actually the survival mechanism of someone who's had a whole lotta really bad experiences with betrayal, having things hidden from him, getting taken advantage of, etc. rather than just the product of a twisted sense of humor, hm…?

“���inside I was feeling a little angry now. I don't do well when people are disloyal, and this was something I'd expected to be kept between me and Abby. Then I stopped and controlled myself (I have excellent control over my emotions) and realized I had never actually told her there was anything secret about this. I'd have to be more careful in the future. Believe you me, I have been since. A contract is a fine thing to have between colleagues, even finer at times between friends.” ~ Joey Drew, The Illusion of Living, pg. 170-171

“[Sammy] leaned back on both elbows on the stone wall. Beneath him Fifth Avenue roared and certain death would come to anyone who toppled over the edge down onto it. The man definitely had confidence in that wall. I had a sudden urge to give him a shove. Not push him over, but just to see his reaction. This might sound strange, but I needed to see a human moment from him, I needed to see the man he was hiding from me. That's the trouble when you're interested in recreating the illusion of the world. You want to see the truth of it as much as possible.” ~ Joey Drew, The Illusion of Living, pg. 188-189 (emphasis added)

Also, it's weird that, when talking about reuniting with Nathan at the Sparkling Unicorn, Joey claims not to have known Nathan very well in the army but to always have liked his personality… after having claimed to be close enough friends with him that he helped him write fake letters from a fictional character to Lottie, just a few pages earlier. Either Joey's not nearly as good a liar as he's supposed to be… or this discrepancy was created on purpose in an attempt to tell us that Joey only liked Nathan's personality back when they were in the army because he didn't actually know him as well as he thought he did. 👀

This all together…

…really makes one wonder if Joey's little intro to TIOL wasn't him humble-bragging, but genuinely explaining that the reason he took so long to write it was because A: he's been being gaslit to heck and back for decades and genuinely doesn't know what reality is as a result, and B: refusing to write this book was one of the few ways he was able to assert real control over his own life for a very long time…

“Looking back is awkward. Looking back, you can trip yourself up. I've never been a fan of it. Which is why I never had a desire to tell my story. No matter how many book deals were offered, no matter how many dinners were thrown for me. I am a man who makes up my own mind. You can't buy me. No one buys Joey Drew.” ~ Joey Drew, The Illusion of Living, pg. 3

Speaking of the intro, interesting how, as much as Joey tries to claim that his surprise at Simmons remembering his “philosophy” is because Simmons isn't the brightest bulb in the factory, he still gets noticeably hung up on the fact that his words had stuck with someone; it's almost as if the vast majority of people he knew either openly viewed him as a talentless idiot or genuinely were trying to manipulate him as he was so seemingly paranoid about, and he was beyond desperate for any scrap of genuine praise anyone would give him, no…? *Stares at basically every audio log, literally every Nathan note, and every scene where Joey reacted unsubtly ecstatically to compliments and/or irate at any hint someone was looking down on him*

Anyone notice how, throughout his whole memoir, Joey sings the praises of anyone he clearly wants to be like and drags anyone who resembles what he's actually like through the mud? “Omigosh, Sammy is just so talented and powerful and automatically respected and praised by everyone! He's so awesome! 🤩” “Yuck, Detective Sinclair wears a persona to hide how useless and powerless he is and is just so desperate for validation! I hate him! 😤 Btw, this stuff is not what my philosophy is about, I'm actually changing reality here (whatever makes you feel better, Joey /hj).” I guess this leads me into the next section…

Continued in Part Two: Expanding (Mostly) On My DCTL & TLO Thoughts

[himehikoshrine]

Oh, Rama Havenna Stage Script (EN)

This is the full Stage Script from the game menu for Oh, Rama Havenna (occasional typos and all, though I tried not to add any that weren't already there, but no promises).

Another verse, much like the first, I've gotten through Oh, Rama Havenna with a few weeks to spare. You can read Mary Jane here [x]. Some notes - the formatting is a bit different on this one. I've gone without the constant quotation marks, and tumblr let me do different things with line breaks.

There are some things in this script that are not in the game version - in-game, parts of the script are elided in favor of summary.

The Stage Scripts don't include any character ad-libs from the in-game performance, though. Of course, you can access it from the game menu, if you've got it, but this version is searchable! The play is a touch under 700 lines long, and is thus behind the cut. I have a version saved elsewhere if you'd like an easier way to save it, feel free to ask.

Oh, Rama Havenna

By Neji Kokuto

(1) Singing Havenna

◆Havenna Lakeshore

Father:   …

A boat docks.

Father:   A boat.

Father:   You in the boat, stop in the name of the Lord.

Chicchi:   …

Father:   This is Havenna. A town of decadence and pleasure.

Father:   Step ashore, and you will never be able to return to the other side.

Father:   Do you desire gold? Or fame? Succeed, and the town will be yours for the taking. Fail, and you will become a mugwort seller in a back alley.

Father:   Young woman, clean and pure. Will you still enter Havenna?

Chicchi:   Yes.

Chicchi:   I have no intention of returning to the other shore, Father.

Father:   I see.

Father:   Then dance until you collapse.

Father:   Oh, Rama Havenna.

◆Singing Pub

★Song “Oh, Rama Havenna, Oh Beloved Havenna”

Man A:   Oh, Rama Havenna! Indulgence is sweet and nothing to be ashamed of!

Man B:   Oh, Rama Havenna! Just give into your desires!

Rukiora enters with a flourish.

Rukiora:   Oh, Rama Havenna! As warm as a baby’s first bath. Oh, Rama Havenna! As gentle as a rocking cradle.

Man A:   Love the setting sun. A trash bin can take the place of a hotel!

Man B:   Aimless pleasure. A place for the lazy!

Rukiora:   Melt down to your bones and forget it all in Havenna. Let the lovely food and drink sing to your core in Havenna.

Rukiora:   Oh, Rama Havenna! Oh, Rama Havenna!

Customer A:   Rukiora, Havenna’s singing princess.

Customer B:   I want to be ripped apart by those beautiful arms of hers!

Customer A:   Hey, cut that out. Just imagining that will get you kicked out of here. She is well known for being a fine woman.

Customer B:   That’s even better!

Chicchi quietly appears

Chicchi:   …

Rukiora:   Oh, Rama Havenna! …That’s all for my singing. Thank you very much. Have a good night.

Applause

Customer A:   Oh rama! Oh rama! Secanda!

Customer B:   Give us more! Secanda, secanda!

Rukiora:   Haha, how many times are they going to make me sing… Ah.

Chicchi:   …

Rukiora:   I’ll sing one more song. Only because a friend is here today.

◆Town Streets

Rukiora:   Chicchi! You came.

Chicchi:   Rukiora. You sang beautifully today, too. Your guests were so delighted.

Rukiora:   Thank you for the praise… However, haah, I’m unhappy.

Chicchi:   Unhappy?

Rukiora:   With the song itself! Those lyrics are just atrocious!

Rukiora:   'Oh, Rama Havenna, we are a bunch of sloths', 'Oh, Rama Havenna, even so, our life is great!

Rukiora:   Ugh, I hate it. The guests at the club are just excusing how pathetic they are with these lyrics.

Rukiora:   They're filling the singing club with their muggy stench.

Rukiora:   If my nose weren’t so stuffy, I’d have thrown up from such a horrid stench. I’m so glad it is!

Rukiora:   Though I want it fixed because it’s difficult to sing.

Rukiora:   …But what I detest even more is the fact I’m making money by interacting with them.

Rukiora:   My living is dependent on them!

Rukiora:   Aagh, I just hate it.

Chicchi:   I think anyone’s amazing who works hard at what they do. I love your singing, Rukiora.

Rukiora:   Chicchi! My friend I love so much! You’re my one and only solace here in Havenna.

Chicchi:   Heh heh…

The two of them hug.

A little distance away, a dirtied man address a charming woman.

Dirty Man:   … I can’t sleep. Can you sell me some mugwort?

Suspicious Woman:   Yes, I just got some good mugwort in.

Rukiora:   …Look, Chicchi. A mugwort seller. The most indecent and immodest women in all of Havenna.

Rukiora:   The smell of mugwort will get all over you if you get near them. What a revolting smell.

Chicchi:   Right. Let’s walk far away from it…

The two of them walk away from the mugwort seller.

Girl:   Waait!

Rukiora:   What now?!

Fugio:   Ah, I’m in trouble…!

Rukiora:   Someone’s being chased by that crowd of women…! They’re coming this way.

Chicchi:   That’s…

Woman:   Wait! Waiiit!

Fugio:   I’m going to get caught at this rate…!

Chicchi:   This way. Come hide in the shadows.

Fugio:   Huh? You’re…!

Rukiora:   Chicchi?!

Girl:   Hey, let me shake your hand! Hug me! Come talk to us!

Sound of footsteps run past.

Rukiora:   …Looks like they’re gone.

Fugio:   Thanks, you saved me!

Rukiora:   …Are you Fugio, perhaps?

Fugio:   Oh, you know my name.

Rukiora:   You’re the princeps of the Agua Club… The most famous celebrity around! There isn’t a woman in Havenna who doesn’t know you! Right, Chicchi?

Chicchi:   R-Right…

Fugio:   Haha, thanks. You two really saved me. Come see my show if you’re free. I’ll prepare some VIP seats for you.

Rukiora:   Really? For both of us?

Fugio:   Of course! All right, bye then, Chickachina

Chicchi:   …!

Rukiora:   ‘Chickachina’?

Fugio:   Oh, that’s just a way of saying goodbye that’s making the rounds at the club! It could be old news by tomorrow. 

Rukiora:   I see. Chickachina!

Fugio leaves.

Rukiora:   Oh, he’s so cool. Fugio, the finest treasure of Havenna. I never imagined running into him here.

Rukiora:   They say not even thieves can get their hands on tickets to his shows. Could this be a reward for trying to live a clean life?

Rukiora:   Well, looks like our next meeting will be at the Agua Club! Bye-bye, Chicchi!

Chicchi:   Bye-bye, Rukiora.

Chicchi:   …

A man comes closer as Rukiora leaves.

Jire:   …Chicchi. I see you went to meet Rukiora.

Chicchi:   Jire… That’s because she’s my one and only female friend in Havenna.

Jire:   …Is that all right? She’s famous for being so clean that she won’t even eat a rat.

Chicchi:   Even I won’t eat a rat. Except for the kebabs on Tigris Street.

Jire:   The kebabs there are fantastic, huh?! They say there’s a secret in the spices.

Jire:   Er, no, I didn’t come here to talk about that.

Jire:   …It’s almost time for your shift at Pontartia. Domina said to come to your room an hour before.

Chicchi:   I was just a bit late from running into a guest. I always make sure to do my work.

Jire:   I’ve heard as much from Domina… More times than I’d like.

Jire:   All right, let’s go. Time for ‘Chicchi’ to become ‘Chickachina’.

(2) Bright Havenna

◆Back Alley

Sounds of murmurs

Girls advertising their store and men looking around.

Mugwort Vendor A:   Hey mister, need some mugwort?

Mugwort Vender B:   Our’s is much better than that shop… Hm? Oh my, it’s the priest.

Father:   …

Mugwort Vendor A:   He sure is faithful, proselytizing in a town like this. But we’re sick of those sermons!

Mugwort Vender B:   Our customers are going to run away, fearing God’s wrath. Go on, get out of here!

Father:   This place is once again gloomy with the smell of mugwort…

◆Pontartia - Chicchi’s Room

Jire:   Chickachina, your next guest is here.

Fugio:   Hey, nice to see you again!

Chicchi:   Please don’t call me by my work name outside the shop.

Fugio:   Sorry, Chickachina… Er, Chicchi. I was just so happy since I never thought I’d see you around town.

Fugio:   Shouldn’t you be the one who should be more careful?

Chicchi:   What do you mean?

Fugio:   You could have just ignored me like you do your other customers.

Fugio:   You’re hiding it, right? The fact that you’re a mugwort seller.

Chicchi:   This conversation is absurd. As absurd as someone like you coming to a shop like this to buy mugwort.

Fugio:   It’s really tiring to be the princeps. The eyes of the public are on me, so I can’t ruin my image.

Fugio:   You understand, right Chicchi?

Chicchi:   I’m going to light some mugwort. Set the money down. You can call me by my alias here.

Fugio:   Haha, sorry. You keep a lot of secrets, Chickachina. Ah, what a nice smell.

Chicchi:   Hey, take off your coat.

Fugio:   Right.

Chicchi:   You like having my arm around you, don’t you?

Fugio:   Yeah… So hurry, wrap it around my neck already…

Chicchi:   All right, then… Hmph!”

Chicchi wraps her arm around Fugio’s neck from behind, choking him.

Fugio:   Rrgh…!

Fugio falls unconscious without any resistance. 

Sound of a thud on the bed.

Fade out.

Fugio:   …I think I’m sick.

Chicchi:   Yeah. Did you sleep well?

Fugio:   Really, I wonder what kind of person first thought up of a business like this?

Chicchi:   I’m sure anyone would think up a business to make men who can’t go to sleep fall unconscious. Someone from this town, at least.

Fugio:   Havenna’s full of guys who can’t sleep, after all… Can I stay by your side a while longer?

Chicchi:   Yes, I’m your Chickachina until morning.

Fugio:   Seriously, I hate the sun for that.

Fugio:   Someday, I want to take you away from Havenna. I wonder how I can have you all to myself.

Chicchi:   There’s nothing outside of Havenna, Fugio.

Fugio:   Haha, you speak as though you’ve seen it for yourself. Outside Havenna is overflowing with dreams and hopes bigger than here. 

Fugio:   Someday, I’ll get out of Havenna… with you.

◆Pontartia

Chicchi:   I smell like mugwort all over… 

Chicchi:   I’ll be taking a shower. I don’t know when Rukiora’s stuffy nose will get better.

Jire:   I’m sure it’ll be fine if she’s seeing the same doctor. That guy’s a quack, after all.

Chicchi:   With any luck, he’ll hit his head and get some sense knocked into him.

Chicchi:   If her nose gets better, she might notice even the faintest scent of mugwort.

Chicchi:   If that happens, it’s not just my job that’s in trouble.

Jire:   Pontartia’s earnings would plummet instantly. All your customers are the good ones, after all.

Jire:   Even that Fugio’s all over you. My ear gets itchy every time I hear his pickup lines.

Chicchi:   He’s popular in Havenna. There’s no way he’d actually fall for a mugwort seller.

A man and woman in gaudy clothing approach them as they talk.

They are Facchio and Domina, the owner of the shop and his lover.

Facchio:   Chickachina!

Jire:   Its Facchio. Pontartia’s owner and the millionaire of Havenna. If he’s here, that means…

Domina:   The smell of mugwort is so strong here. I’m sure you’re not wasting any of it, are you?

Jire:   Domina… The madam of Pontartia and Facchio’s lover…

Chicchi:   Good evening.

Facchio:   Did that prince boy come by again?

Chicchi:   Not ‘prince boy’. The princeps Facchio.

Facchio:   Prince, princeps, whatever. The fact that such a popular boy is mad about you is what’s important. 

Domina:   So, how much did we earn from him? Ah, here it is.

Chicchi:   Ah.

Domina:   A bit low for the star of the Agua club. He could be more generous with the tip.

Domina:   Subtracting the rent for the room, equipment expenses, other miscellaneous fees… Here’s your share.

Chicchi:   …This is it?

Domina:   What’s that I hear?

Domina:   Who was the one who plucked you off a dirty street corner stinking of matrik into a fine mugwort seller?

Chicchi:   You, Madam Domina.

Domina:   I thought so.

Domina:   The one who taught you how much pressure to apply to block one’s airway, how to charm the beastly men of havenna and send them into heaven was me, right?

Domina:   I can be real scary if you mouth off to me.

Facchio:   Come now, my little butterfly. The reason you’re upset is proof that Chickachina sees herself as worth more. Let’s give her a little bonus later. 

Domina:   Facchio, I’m going to get jealous if you keep treating Chickachina so well. Enough to kill her!

Facchio:   You’re flapping wings are the most beautiful, my butterfly.

Domina:   Hee-hee

Jire:   Um, can we leave now?

Domina:   Oh, Jire, you’re still here. Get out already.

Facchio:   Later, Chickachina.

The two of them leave Facchio and Domina.

Jire:   That Domina. She took all that after you worked so hard, Chicchi. I’m going to complain about it later.

Chicchi:   There’s no helping it. Those two were the ones who took me in.

Jire:   Domina’s jealous of you, Chicchi, because you’re so young and beautiful.

Chicchi:   Domina’s beautiful, too. Even though she’s not young.

Jire:   Chicchi. What’s so worth gaining here in Havenna that you would go this far?

Chicchi:   Jire, Havenna is the town of desire and pleasure. I am a woman of Havenna, too.

Jire:   I don’t understand, Chicchi. I can’t imagine this kind of work being fulfilling for you.

◆The Edge of Town

Facchio and Domina enter a church confessional. The priest listens to them from the other side.

Facchio:   Father! Oh, Father! I have sinned!

Domina:   Please hear Facchio’s confession! And please here mine as well!

Father:   Go on.

Facchio:   Pontartia has been prosperous here in Havenna. 

Facchio:   Eventually, we will cross the river and expand Pontartia to a hundred locations.

Facchio:   Please, God! Forgive my arrogance and ambition, and protect me from those jealous of my genius!

Domina:   And I will follow this man, whose pockets overflow with profit.

Domina:   Please allow me to support him in a way his wife is unable to.

Domina:   …And please punish that arrogant little Chickachina.

Facchio:   Father, what is it that we must do?

Father:   God is always watching over us, each day and each night.

Father:   He loves us in all our greed, arrogance, jealousy, and envy. Be thankful for the love from our magnanimous God.

Father:   You must dance.

Facchio & Domina:   Aah!

★Dance “Intense confessions at the confessional”

(3) Swaying Havenna

◆Agua Club

Fugio’s performance is a cheerful, empty song.

Fugio:   The future is a hope without a dream. Let me see your dazzling smile tomorrow! I am your princeps!

Fugio:   Shining tears become shooting stars! We can create a love that’s true, if we’re together! I alone am your princeps!

Audience:   Ahhh!

Audience:   Fugio!

Rukiora:   Amazing! I never imagined we could watch the princeps of the Agua Club from such good seats! Let’s dance later! I have to thank God for this!

Chicchi:   I’m happy for you, Rukiora.

Fugio:   Thank you, thank you! Here’s a flower to remember this night by.

Customer A:   Fugio threw a flower!

Customer B:   It’s mine!

Customer A:   No, it’s mine…

Rukiora:   Huh? No way!

Customer:   Aww, no fair!

Customer:   Fugio, one for me, too!

Fugio:   Thank you all! I love you like the stars do!

Rukiora:   Look, Chicchi! I got the flower from Fugio…!

Chicchi:   Well, you’re the cutest one here, Rukiora. I’m happy for you.

Rukiora:   Yeah… I’m so happy…!

◆Yorubeya

Chicchi talks to Miguel, an employee at the club

Miguel:   Rukki, Chicchi. Welcome to the Yorubeya. Hm? You look happy, Rukki.

Rukiora:   Listen to this, Miguel! Fugio tossed a flower to me at the Agua Club!

Rukiora:   Look at this flower! It’s so pretty…!

Miguel:   A man giving a flower to a woman is a meaningful thing. And that man is Fugio, the most popular man in Havenna.

Rukiora:   You’re right, Miguel. What do I do? What if Fugio becomes my lover?

Rukiora:   If I’m with him, I might even be able to leave Havenna and live somewhere far away from here…

Chicchi:   Leave Havenna?

Miguel:   If you do that, I won’t be able to see you or Chicchi anymore. I’d be a bit lonely.

Rukiora:   Miguel! I’ll write to you.

Miguel:   Really? I can see you taking your sweet time in responding.

Chicchi:   Rukiora, if you were to become Fugio’s lover, would you really leave Havenna? 

Rukiora:   Chicchi, the world outside this town is full of things that aren’t just pleasure and desire. 

Rukiora:   Things unimaginable to people like us who have grown up in Havenna!

Chicchi:   What do you think is outside Havenna, Rukiora?

Rukiora:   I don’t know. Probably…everything.

Miguel:   You think? It might just be dandelions and neshiromi fields, you know?

Rukiora:   That would be so boring!

Miguel:   Havenna’s a place with everything. You can get all the riches and privileges you want here. If you have the power, that is.

Miguel:   To me, Havenna’s the most amazing town! There’s no one to criticize you if you spend all your days having fun.

Rukiora:   You really are the embodiment of Havenna, Miguel.

Miguel:   There are girls as cute as you too, Rukki.

Rukiora:   You playboy.

Miguel:   Ahaha, it’s true.

Rukiora:   I want to get out of here as soon as possible. If only Fugio really WOULD take me away…

Chicchi:   But we’ll be apart if you leave Havenna.

Rukiora:   You just need to come with me! Me, you, and Fugio, all three of us will leave.

Miguel:   No fair. You’re only taking Chicchi.

Rukiora:   It’s different with Chicchi, Miguel. We’re special friends.

Chicchi:   …

Chicchi:   …So you want to leave Havenna, Rukiora? You have no desire to stay here?

Chicchi:   Even if I’m with you…?

Rukiora:   Wait, Chicchi. It’s not like I want to leave Havenna right NOW.

Rukiora:   Though if I could leave, I would.

Miguel:   Are you okay being with anyone, so long as they’ll take you away from Havenna?

Rukiora:   Well, of course I’d prefer Fugio. He’s a pure-hearted princeps. This flower must be a sign of things to come.

Rukiora:   I’m sure something will happen before this flower’s fragrance fades. Oh, what a nice smell. If my nose weren’t so stuffy, I bet it’d smell even lovelier. 

Chicchi:   Rukiora, you’ve got pollen on your nose.

Rukiora:   Oh, no! I need to touch up my makeup!

Rukiora leaves her seat.

Sound of her hurrying away.

Miguel:   Rukiora is quite taken with Fugio.

Chicchi:   It’s because he threw her that flower. What is he trying to do, anyway?

Miguel:   You think he could’ve been trying to throw it to you? I mean…

Miguel:   I’m sure you were the cutest one in the audience.

Chicchi:   …That’s why people call you a playboy, Miguel. I don’t eat up sweet talk like that.

Miguel:   You’re my guest today. Shouldn’t I be serving you?

Miguel:   …I can’t sleep. I crave the scent of mugwort.

Chicchi:   Don’t talk about that here. Rukiora will be back soon.

Miguel:   It’s tough, isn’t it? Having to keep lying.

Chicchi:   I’m not lying. I just haven’t told her the truth. 

Miguel:   And you want her to believe a false truth? Why are you so adamant on hiding it?

Chicchi:   When I first started taking customers and Pontartia, Domina always scolded me for failing to knock them out right away.

Chicchi:   … ‘We don’t need someone like you here, you freeloader’.

Chicchi:   I cried as I walked around Havenna, and when I arrived at Pig’s Rear Street, I heard someone singing.

Chicchi:   “‘Oh, Rama Havenna’… I love Havenna so dearly. You can be a good-for-nothing, and that’s all right. Laugh and dance, and you can forget it all…

Chicchi:   I was crying.

Chicchi:   I cried and cried, and couldn’t stop. When the show ended, I still couldn’t move from where I was… 

Chicchi:   Rukiora spoke to me.

Chicchi:   I think she thought of me as a pure-hearted girl who was moved by her singing. When in truth, I’m far from pure.

Chicchi:   But I was happy.

Chicchi:   Rukiora’s the only person who can’t know who I really am. No matter what happens. 

Miguel:   Even if it hurts her in the end?

Chicchi:   Is there anything that would her her more than the truth that her friends sells mugwort?

Miguel:   Don’t glare at me like that. It’s fine. No one knows anything about who you really are. No one in Havenna. Not even me.

Chicchi:   Miguel. You’re different. You’re special. 

Miguel:   Hey, now. Look who’s dishing out the sweet talk now.

Chicchi:   Then, will you be honest and tell Rukiora that you care for her?

Chicchi:   You’re a liar, too. You mix in flippant, nonchalant flirting with your true feelings, then shrug off your sleepless nights with mugwort.

Miguel:   …I give up. You win. You sure are mean today. Are you annoyed that Rukiora’s so obsessed with Fugio?

Chicchi:   Rukiora seemed happy to get a flower from him. That’s why I’m happy, too.

Miguel:   You’re not telling the truth again.

Rukiora comes back.

Rukiora:   Sorry. Where were we?

Chicchi:   We were thinking about how you could stay in Havenna, even if you and Fugio become lovers.

Miguel:   I think Fugio going totally broke at a casino would be most effective.

Rukiora:   Idiot. Fugio leads a proper life, so he wouldn’t go somewhere like a casino.

Chicchi:   …

(4) Noisy Havenna

◆Town Streets

Miguel:   Then, can I get those? The Bakuu cookies. Yeah, thanks.

Rukiora:   …Those cookies are cute.

Miguel:   Rukki! If you had cookies, I would have gone straight to buy them from you.

Rukiora:   I have no such thing.

Rukiora:   Are they for your customers? I think they’re a little too cute to give out at the club. 

Miguel:   They’re for me, I just like them. 

Rukiora:   Oh, you’re so adorable.

Miguel:   Right? I AM adorable!

Rukiora:   Oh, never mind that. Look, the flower Fugio gave me. It’s still alive. Isn’t it amazing?

Miguel:   That’s love for ya.

Rukiora:   It is.

Rukiora:   I’m going to have my nose checked now. I want to be able to enjoy the fragrance while I still can.

Miguel:   I see. I hope your nose gets cleared up soon.

Rukiora:   Yes. Goodbye now.

Sound of her walking away.

Miguel:   …I think tonight’s going to be another sleepless night.

◆Pontartia - Chicchi’s Room

Fugio:   Chickachina, how I’ve missed you. We couldn’t stay and talk for long last time.

Fugio:   First, thank you for coming to my show. My heart was dancing just from seeing you there at the Agua Club. 

Chicchi:   Rukiora was there, too.

Fugio: Oh, right. So, that flower. Did it surprise you?

Chicchi:   Rukiora caught it.

Fugio:   My aim was abysmal. I really wanted you to catch it. I’m sorry!

Chicchi:   I see. She was really happy. She’s a big fan of yours.

Chicchi:   But I don’t want you to play with her feelings. She’s a dear friend to me.

Fugio:   I see. I didn’t mean to do so, but I admit it was wrong of me. I’m sorry.

Fugio:   I’ll throw it next time so that you catch it. No, maybe it’s better if I give it to you directly. 

Chicchi:   Rukiora is enamored with you. You’re all she talks about.

Fugio:   What about you? Talk about me, too.

Fugio:   About how you want to run away from Havenna with me.

Chicchi:   What a ridiculous conversation. 

Fugio:   You always avoid the topic whenever it leads to what’s outside Havenna. 

Fugio:   …Could it be that you have the strongest desire of all to see what’s out there?

Fugio:   Don’t you want to escape this harsh reality? 

Fugio:   Why? Why are you working as a mugwort seller? Debt? Is there something you need?

Fugio:   I can give you what it is you desire. Whatever you want, even a moment to make you forget reality.

Fugio:   So, just quit being a mugwort seller and…

Chicchi:   …Stop already!

Chicchi:   If you’re just going to pity me so much, then just stop buying me!

Chicchi:   What do you even know about me? …Jire! This customer is on his way out. 

Fugio:   Chickachina, calm down, I was out of line.

Jire:   Chickachina, what’s wrong?

Fugio:   It’s nothing. This is between the two of us.

Jire:   And I’m stepping in between the two of you as well.

Fugio:   Aren’t you just Domina’s lackey?

Jire:   What did you say? I’m Chicchi’s ally!

Fugio:   What can you do, with no status, prestige, or money?

Jire:   You’re one to talk! Buying mugwort all the time when you HAVE status, prestige, and money.

Fugio:   What was that?

Jire:   What’s your problem?!

Chicchi:   Stop!

Chicchi:   …It’s fine. I’ll just do my job. I’m a mugwort seller, after all.

Jire:   But, Chickachina…

Chicchi:   I’m sorry, Jire. Leave the room. I don’t want to be seen working. 

Fugio:   And this is time that I purchased. Am I mistaken?

Jire:   …Understood.

Fugio:   Oh, wait.

A clinking sound.

Fugio throws a tip.

Jire:   100 panie…!

Fugio:   It’s a tip. Go get yourself some kebab with that.

◆Pontartia

Jire:   Who’s he kidding with the kebab crap.

Jire:   I don’t need this!

Jire throws the 100 panie. 

Sound of him throwing the coin

Jire:   …Chicchi! Aah, Chickachina! ! I… I…! 

Jire:   The smell of mugwort is seeping into her body…!

Jire:   …

Jire:   …100 panie.

Jire picks up the coin.

Jire:   He has the power to give 100 panie as tip…

Jire:   What I have is…

Jire:   …Chicchi.

◆The Edge of Town

Father:   …Lost little lamb.

Jire:   …

Domina:   Oh, Jire. I didn’t think I’d run into you here. Have you been up to no good?

Jire:   Please don’t lump me in with you. I don’t have any sins to confess.

Jire:   I have something to talk to you about in regards to Chicchi. I’ll ask bluntly. What do you think about her?

Domina:   She’s a pupa who doesn’t know her place. She may grow to be a carbunculus-patterned butterfly.  

Jire:   You’re scared of her, aren’t you?

Jire:   Would you like to make a deal?

Domina:   A deal?

Jire:   Yes.

(5) Aromatic Havenna

◆Singing Pub

Rukiora:   Chicchi, Miguel! You came!

Chicchi:   You were lovely today as well. 

Miguel:   You sang like an angel.

Rukiora:   Hee-hee, thank you.

Rukiora:   Here, look, Fugio’s flower! Two petals fell, but it’s still in bloom!

Miguel:   Perhaps it’s the magic of love.

Chicchi:   It’s not a fake flower, is it?

Rukiora: A fake flower wouldn’t have a scent like this!

Rukiora:   Here, have a sniff. Hnnn, hahh, hnnn, hahh… Huh?

Chicchi:   What is it, Rukiora?

Rukiora:   I smell something displeasing.

Chicchi:   Huh? From Fugio’s flower?

Rukiora:   No. Mugwort.

Chicchi:   …That’s just your imagination isn’t it? Remember, your nose is stuffed.

Rukiora:   I changed doctors. Thanks to that, it’s getting better day by day.

Chicchi:   …!

Rukiora:   I DO smell it. That filthy stench… That dreadful stench. 

Miguel:   Maybe it’s this.

Rukiora:   What… The cookies?

Miguel:   There are all sorts of flavors. These are mugwort.

Rukiora:   What terrible taste you have, Miguel!

Miguel:   I didn’t think your nose would get better… Sorry!

Rukiora:   I’ll forgive you since you were honest.

Rukiora:   Ah, it’s time to give the flower some water. Excuse me for a moment.

Sound of her leaving.

Chicchi:   Thanks, Miguel. 

Miguel:   Never thought she’d change doctors

Miguel:   What are you going to do, Chicchi? If her nose gets completely better, she might notice the smell of mugwort on you.

Chicchi:   I’ll change perfumes. 

Miguel:   …Chicchi. I don’t think you can fool her forever. What about being honest with her?

Chicchi:   …

Miguel:   Or maybe… I’LL be the one who takes Rukiora and runs away from Havenna?

Chicchi:   You’re joking, right?

Miguel:   Yeah, just trying to distract us for a bit.

Chicchi:   Stop. I’m not in the mood for this right now.

Miguel:   Then, want a Bakuu cookie?

Chicchi:   I ate those as a kid. There aren’t any that are mugwort-flavored.

Chicchi:   You like those, Miguel?

Miguel:   I hate them. They’re dry and have no taste. But they remind me of the past.

Chicchi:   Are you eating them to not forget about the past?

Miguel:   That’s about right. You don’t have anything like that for yourself?

Chicchi:   Memories just make me feel empty.

Miguel:   That’s so like you.

◆Pontartia

Chicchi:   …

Jire:   What’s wrong? You don’t look great.

Chicchi:   Rukiora’s stuffed nose is starting to get better.

Jire:   Huh? But that hospital’s supposed to be full of quacks…

Chicchi:   She found another doctor.

Chicchi:   If she finds out the truth…

Jire:   It’ll be okay, Chicchi. God will protect you. 

Chicchi:   God’s been asleep for a long time.

◆ Pig’s Rear Street - Second District

Rukiora:   The flower smells so nice! I’m so glad I changed doctors.

Domina:   You’re in the way.

Rukiora:   Aaah?!

Sound of the two bumping into each other. 

In a hard collision, the flower falls onto the street.

The woman who bumped into her steps on the flower.

Rukiora:   What are you doing! Huh?!

Domina:   Well if it isn’t the moonlight princess of the singing pub.

Rukiora:   I feel sick… Of all people, I had to bump into you…!

Rukiora:   Ah, the flower. My flower…

Domina:   Flower?

Domina:   You mean this filthy trash under my shoe no different from a rat’s carcass?

Rukiora:   Move!!!

Rukiora:   How could you… The flower I got from Fugio!

Domina:   Oh, too bad I’m not sorry.

Rukiora:   Don’t you ‘not sorry’ me! What are you going to do about this?

Domina:   It’s not something to be so down about. Flowers wilt eventually. Humans are the same.

Rukiora:   Quiet! You vermicurmi! You rotten matrik woman!

Domina:   How rude. I am still in my prime.

Domina:   That’s why your father is still so obsessed with me!

Rukiora:   You dreadful mugwort woman…! Shut your filthy pig mouth!

Domina:   And how is that woman doing, tossed aside by her husband?

Rukiora:   Don’t make fun of my mother…! She’s… passed.

Domina:   I see. Facchio made no mention of that at all. 

Rukiora:   I’ve erased any memory of that man reeking of mugwort!

Rukiora:   Ah, I’m going to vomit! I’ll leave you all in this filthy putrid town… With Fugio, my beloved.

Domina:   Fugio? From the Agua Club?

Rukiora:   Yes! The princeps Fugio! One who would never reek of mugwort like you!

Domina:   So what if you found out that Fugio spends his time buying mugwort?

Rukiora:   Huh…?

Rukiora:   …What a joke! Fugio is Havenna’s treasure. He’s my idol!

Domina:   I don’t know if he’s an idol or an idiot, but I’m only telling you the truth.

Domina:   He’s a man stained by Havenna, collapsing every night in the arms of a mugwort seller.

Domina:   What an innocent young, Havenna-like woman you are, fooled by such ostentatious displays as his. 

Domina:   Your fate is to have everything taken away by mugwort sellers in the end.

Rukiora:   Lies… Lies!

Domina:   If you think it’s a lie, come by Pontartia sometime. Behind Ant Hill Alley.

Domina:   It’s possible… that he might come today.

Domina:   He’s mad about a woman named Chickachina.

Rukiora:   …Chickachina?

Domina:   You want me to tell you more? She…

Miguel:   Stop!

Rukiora:   Miguel…!

Domina:   What do you want?

Miguel:   Get away from her. If not…

Domina:   If not, then what? …Hmph! Out of my way!

Sound of her leaving.

Miguel:   Rukiora, are you all right?

Miguel:   That woman is a mugwort seller full of lies. Don’t take what she says seriously.

Rukiora:   Miguel.

Miguel:   Yeah?

Rukiora:   Then why did you interrupt her?

Miguel:   Because she says the most ridiculous things.

Rukiora:   …You lie so much that the truth is clear.

Miguel:   Rukiora? Ah! Wait, Rukiora!

(6) Fussy Havenna

◆Pontartia - Facchio’s Room

Chicchi:   Excuse me

Facchio:   Ah, come in, Chickachina

Chicchi:   You wanted to talk?

Facchio:   It’s as though you are my adorable daughter. I can ask about how you’re doing, can’t I?

Chicchi:   I’m having a lot of fun. All my customers are good people.

Facchio:   I’m glad to hear it. I want to ask you, my adorable little girl. 

Facchio:   Chickachina, what do you think about Domina?

Chicchi:   Domina? If you’re playing the role of my father, that would make Domina my kind stepmother. 

Facchio:   Chickachina. I swear I will never tell Domina.

Chicchi:   She’s an aged vermicurmi.

Facchio:   Ahaha! Oh the things you say behind people’s backs are always so amusing!

Facchio:   Domina’s a clever woman. She’s planning on a higher status in Havenna, using me as a stepping stone.

Chicchi:   Is that so?

Facchio:   Of course she is! Chickachina. Aren’t you interested in status as well? What would you think of becoming the madam of Pontartia?

Chicchi:   But the madam is Domina.

Facchio:   You’re popular among the men. You’re affectionate, and you knock them out quick. And above all, you’re clever.

Facchio:   There’s no one better suited to represent Pontartia.

Facchio:   Will you build this business with me?

Chicchi:   Facchio. I don’t intend on going from daughter to stepmother. 

Facchio:   Of course, I’ll prioritize whatever it is you wish. It’s just that there’s no mistake that a brighter world awaits you.

Facchio:   Just think about it. A woman of mine will wear a ring of carbunculus. 

Chicchi:   …I understand. I’ll think about it.

◆Outside Pontartia

Rukiora:   Pontartia… there’s no mistake. This is it.

Rukiora:   I can smell the mugwort even out here. Is it possible Fugio actually comes to a place like this?

Rukiora:   There’s no way such an upright and clean man could…

Rukiora:   …

Rukiora:   No, this isn’t right!

Rukiora:   I should be ashamed for getting led on by that woman and doubting him!

Rukiora:   I’ll go home… Huh?!

Rukiora:   Is that…?!

◆Pontartia

Chicchi:   Facchio wants me to be…

Jire:   …Chicchi. It’s time for work, Fugio’s coming.

Chicchi:   R-Right…

◆Pontartia - Chicchi’s Room.

Fugio:   Chickachina, I’ve missed you!

Chicchi:   Good evening, Fugio. You can’t sleep again?

Fugio:   I feel like my face is heavy with a mask I put on myself.

Chicchi:   All right, I’ll light some mugwort then…

Rukiora:   Hey!

Chicchi:   …!

Rukiora:   To think the princeps would come to a mugwort shop…!

Fugio:   You’re…

Chicchi:   A-Ah…

Rukiora:   Chicchi…!!!

Chicchi:   Aah, ah…

Rukiora:   …What is the meaning of this?

Chicchi:   I… I…

Fugio:   Let’s calm down for a moment.

Rukiora:   You be quiet! You falsa of a man!

Fugio:   Wha…

Rukiora:   Chicchi. We’re friends, right? Friends don’t hide things from each other, right?

Rukiora:   Tell me the truth. If so then I, I… will forgive you.

Chicchi:   Rukiora…

Chicchi:   Tell me!!!

Chicchi:   I… I…

Chicchi:   I’m actually a mugwort seller. A mugwort-selling woman, the likes of which you hate so much…

Chicchi:   I’m sorry for hiding it from you… You’re the one person I didn’t want to find out.

Chicchi:   Because I care about you. Because we’re friends…

Rukiora:   Chicchi…

Rukiora:   You’re terrible! To trick me like this!

Chicchi:   R-Rukiora…

Rukiora:   What do you mean ‘friends’?! You were ridiculing me, drenching yourself in mugwort with Fugio!

Chicchi:   No, Rukiora! I…

Rukiora:   You were jeering at me, exhilarated over a single flower!

Rukiora:   Don’t ever come near me with that disgusting stench ever again!

Sound of her running off

Rukiora leaves the shop.

Chicchi:   Rukiora!

Chicchi:   Ah, my dear friend…

Chicchi:   Because I’m… a mugwort seller.

Fugio:   Chickachina… Poor thing.

Fugio:   Come here!

Fugio takes Chicchi’s hand.

Chicchi:   Fugio?! Were are we going?

Fugio:   Towards hope.

Sound of them running off.

Jire watches in the shadows as the two of them exit Pontartia

Jire:   …

◆The Edge of Town

Rukiora arrives at the church.

Rukiora:   …Please let me confess!

Father:   Proceed.

Rukiora:   God… Please forgive me! Please forgive me for being unable to forgive such a dirty lie, unable to forgive my precious friend!

Rukiora:   I wanted to… I wanted to forgive her, but my head and my heart are all a mess, and I can’t do anything about it at all!

Rukiora:   Not only that, I want her to be punished, even though we’re friends! Even though we WERE friends!

Rukiora:   Or, am I the one in the wrong?

Rukiora:   Am I the terrible one? Is my heart the one that is dirty? Aagh!

Rukiora:   Is everything disappearing around me because I’m the one who’s no good? If only I had done better, If only I had more value, things wouldn’t have turned out like this?

Rukiora:   Then Father wouldn’t have been taken away, and Mother wouldn’t have gone mad?

Rukiora:   Please forgive me, forgive me, please forgive me. Please take out my heart, and wash away all its sins.

Rukiora:   Please forgive me, forgive me, please forgive me, forgive me…

Miguel:   Mind letting me confess too?

Rukiora:   Miguel…! What is all that luggage?

Miguel:   I’m leaving Havenna. I finally saved enough money.

Miguel:   In fact, I’ve been able to leave for a while now. I just kept letting things drag on.

Miguel:   But I made up my mind after watching you run off. 

Rukiora:   Whatever do you mean?

Miguel:   My family is made up of poor neshiromi farmers. We are not from Havenna.

Miguel:   With so much debt, the farm was in danger, so I was sent to Havenna to earn money.

Miguel:   But now that I have enough saved, I’m going back home.

Rukiora:   What are you here to confess about, then?

Miguel:   For lying to myself.

Miguel:   Rukiora, I’m in love with you. 

Rukiora:   What?

Miguel:   Escape from Havenna with me.

(7) Drowning Havenna

◆Pontartia

Facchio:   Chickachina! Where’s my pupa?

Domina:   She went off somewhere with a man.

Facchio:   Domina! Why didn’t you stop them?

Domina:   I saw my younger self in her and thought she might get in my way, so I just thought to rip off her wings before she became a beautiful butterfly. You don’t need two women, Facchio.

Facchio:   What a terrifying woman you are!

Domina:   Who’s the terrifying one here?! You ebrietas of a man. I’m the one who raised Pontartia to who she is, you leech.

Domina moves behind Facchio

Facchio:   What are you doing! Stop!

Domina:   My skills have not yet dulled. Hmph.

Facchio:   Rrghk!

Sound of him dropping to the ground.

Domina:   …Chickachina, Facchio. Now everyone in my way is gone.

Domina:   I’ll confess to God later.

◆Havenna Lakeshore

Fugio:   Alright, we’re here.

Chicchi:   This is the lake.

Fugio:   Right. We’re going to cross it on a ferry and reach the other side.

Chicchi:   Stop, Fugio. I don’t want this.

Fugio:   Then what DO you want?! Your lie has been found out by your dear friend.

Fugio:   Is it money? Status? Fame?

Chicchi:   I don’t want any of that.

Fugio:   Then tell me, Chickachina. I want to help you.

Jire:   Chicchi!

Jire runs forward. He has a knife in his hand.

Chicchi:   Jire! What are you holding…

Fugio:   A knife…

Jire:   Celebrities have so much confidence. To think you’d take Chicchi away from Havenna.

Fugio:   Urk…

Jire:   Chicchi. Come back here. This man is nothing more than a thief.

Chicchi:   …No, Jire. This man is the princeps of the Agua Club. Rumors will spread quickly.

Jire:   Then…

Jire:   All I can do is pretend I didn’t see anything.

Jire:   Chicchi, you decide.

Jire:   Whether you’ll cross the lake with that man and leave Havenna, or punish him and come back to Pontartia.

Chicchi:   Jire…

Chicchi:   I won’t cross the lake, nor will I punish him.

Fugio:   Chickachina…

Jire:   That’s not a choice you can make! You need to leave. I don’t want to see you dirtied by rumors.

Jire:   When you first came to Havenna, you were pure as the purest white. A vase for a single flower, descended down to us in the snow. 

Jire:   To watch you poisoned by this town, stained by the scent of mugwort is… painful.

Fugio:   Even he agrees. Leave Havenna with me.

Fugio:   If you do, you can become pure again. You won’t have to lie anymore.

Chicchi:   …

Chicchi:   …Leave Havenna so I can become pure again? How can you decide that all on your own?

Chicchi:   I came to Havenna of my own free will. When I leave Havenna, it will be of my own free will as well.

Jire:   Chicchi…

Chicchi:   It was you who provoked Domina into telling everything to Rukiora, wasn’t it Jire?

Jire:   I…

Chicchi:   How arrogant of you to get Fugio involved in this.

Jire:   Chicchi, I just wanted you to…

Chicchi:   You should confess to God. Before I can no longer stand you. Goodbye.

Chicchi leaves.

Sound of her leaving.

Jire:   Chicchi!

Fugio:   You…

Jire:   Uurgh…

Jire:   I… just cared about her so much…

Fugio:   I understand

Jire:   …Thank you.

Jire:   Hey, sorry for dragging you into this. Will you join me in the confession booth?

◆Pontartia 

Sound of murmurs

A crowd forms around the shop.

Domina and Facchio are arguing.

Facchio:   You finally showed your true colors, you sneak!

Domina:   What about you? Isn’t it about time you realized you’re about to be fired?

Chicchi:   Facchio and Domina?

Man:   They’re arguing over who gets ownership.

Woman:   It seems like the fight led into an investigation, and it turns out this shop is illegal.

Chicchi:   I see. That’s terrible.

◆Pig’s Rear Street - Second District

Chicchi staggers.

Chicchi:   …

Chicchi:   Ugh…

Chicchi:   Urgh… Aagh…

Chicchi:   Aaaaaagh…

Rukiora’s voice can be heard.

???:   Oh, Rama Havenna! As warm as a baby’s first bath.

Chicchi:   …?!

Rukiora’s voice continues.

???:   Oh, Rama Havenna! As gentle as a rocking cradle.

Chicchi:   Rukiora.

Chicchi:   Rukiora!

◆Singing Pub

Chicchi runs into the pub.

Chicchi:   Rukiora!!!

Rukiora:   Chicchi…!

Chicchi:   Rukiora. I…

Rukiora:   I was asked to leave Havenna with someone.

Chicchi:   Huh?

Rukiora:   By Miguel. He wasn’t raised in Havenna.

Rukiora:   He said he’ll be returning to his family of neshiromi farmers… He wants me to come with him. 

Chicchi:   Miguel…?

Chicchi:   Ah, right. I see. Miguel was finally able to be honest with himself.

Chicchi:   …I’m sorry.

Chicchi:   Miguel told me as well. That I needed to tell you the truth. But I couldn’t.

Chicchi:   I just didn’t want you to hate me.

Chicchi:   I thought that instead of hurting you, it would be better for me to stay silent.

Rukiora:   I see.

Chicchi:   I wanted us to become true friends.

Rukiora:   …I see.

Rukiora:   Even if it meant lying?

Chicchi:   …Yes

Rukiora:   Your problem has always been that you’re too lovable.

Chicchi:   Huh?

Rukiora:   Hey, Chicchi. Are you able to forgive me?

Chicchi:   Huh? What do you mean?

Rukiora:   I lied to you, too. I was unable to tell you the truth.

Chicchi:   That’s not true! You’ve done nothing wrong.

Rukiora:   Then, forgive me. That’s far simpler than having God forgive me. It’s a pain to go all the way to the church.

Chicchi:   But…

Rukiora:   Chicchi!

Chicchi:   …I forgive you. I forgive you, Rukiora.

Rukiora:   Then I forgive you, too.

Chicchi:   Rukiora…!

Rukiora:   When Miguel asked me to go with him, the first thing that came to mind was you.

Rukiora:   When you listened to my song, so full of tears. You were so beautiful.

Rukiora:   Whether you’re a mugwort seller or a kebab seller, I don’t care. You’re you. My dear friend.

★Song "Faded Color"

Chicchi:   Rukiora…

Chicchi:   …Pontartia’s gone.

Rukiora:   You can just sing here with me. Dancing would be good, too.

Chicchi:   But what about Miguel? Aren’t you going to leave Havenna with him?

Rukiora:   There is a desire in his heart that Havenna cannot fulfill.

Rukiora:   I do like Miguel, but he and I desire different things.

Rukiora:   I want to be with you.

Chicchi:   Rukiora…

Rukiora:   …Chicchi, can I ask you one more thing?

Chicchi:   What is it?

Rukiora:   I want to know the truth.

Rukiora:   Coming here to Havenna, going so far as to become a mugwort seller… What was it that you desired?

Chicchi:   …

Chicchi:   I’ve been asked this question by everyone. But I’ll tell the truth only to you, Rukiora.

Chicchi:   I wanted to live the life of a mugwort seller.

Monologue:   After that, Chicchi and Rukiora lived their lives. Singing and dancing, laughing and crying in Havenna, the town of desire and pleasure.

(8) Havenna

◆Back Alley

A few days later, Chicchi stands in a back alley.

A man appears. It is the priest.

Chicchi:   …Oh, Rama Havenna. As warm as a baby’s first bath. Oh, Rama Havenna, As gentle as a rocking cradle.

Father:   …

Chicchi:   It’s you…

Father:   I cannot sleep.

Father:   I cannot sleep, night after night. What should I do?

Chicchi:   I see…

Chicchi:   Shall I burn some mugwort for you?

Father:   Oh, Rama Havenna.

The End

[lutiaslayton]

Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva

ＰＡＲＴ　１０

〚ＦＩＲＳＴ〛〚ＰＲＥＶ〛〚ＮＥＸＴ〛

Disclaimer: This is a fan-translation for the Japan-exclusive novellisation of the movie Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva. The original novel was written by Aya Matsui under the supervision of Akihiro Hino, and belongs to Level-5.

This translation only aims to be a pleasant read for non-Japanese fans, nothing more: I made a few deliberate changes while translating in order to get the writing style closer to what is usually found in English fanfictions, as the Japanese storytelling can sometimes be different than what we are used to.

＊ Leaving the Crown Petone

While the professor and Luke were lowering one of the lifeboats into the sea, Melina left Mr Whistler’s side and came to me.

Thank goodness, she was safe… She could hardly imagine how worried I had been.

I was about to tell her just that, but she spoke first.

“Why…?”

I blinked in surprise and confusion.

“Why did you bring Professor Layton?”

“Melina…”

“Don’t let him win!”

This was the fiercest tone I had ever heard from her.

“You’re my best friend. Aren’t you, Janice? Please, let us have our wish!”

“Our…?”

Our wish…

I quickly realised what she meant. This was a display of just how deeply ‘we’ were connected.

But Melina… It was for your sake that I wanted the professor to solve this puzzle. Our sake.

Please… You have to understand.

In the end, two lifeboats quietly left the Crown Petone and ventured into the sea.

In one of them, alongside myself, stood Professor Layton, Luke, Mr Whistler, the girl with the ribbon, and the man in a safari shirt who always kept his backpack with him.

I was extremely worried of what Melina could tell the professor.

‘Do not let him win’… I could not get her face out of my mind. The expression she had when she had said it…

But for the time being, she had taken refuge by Mr Whistler’s side and fallen quiet.

“Where are we going?”

Luke had asked this out of the blue, to no one in particular. This seemed to be a question he had meant to ask for a long time, and could no longer keep to himself.

“We’re here to see the biggest crown. Aren’t you?” the man with the backpack replied.

“B-but, where is it?”

“You will find out in a few more minutes, Luke,” the professor smiled as he continued rowing.

“I can’t believe that you were the one who shouted the boat’s name out loud, and yet that you still haven’t figured out the answer…”

The girl in the ribbon had blurted this out in a huffed mumble. The professor turned to her and asked:

“If I may, Miss…”

“‘Amelia’ will do.”

“Amelia,” he repeated with a light nod. “How did you get involved in this game?”

“Surely, a ticket to that opera is not something that a student like you could afford,” the man with the backpack agreed.

Amelia did not answer. Instead, Mr Whistler replied on her behalf:

“Miss Amelia did not buy a ticket. She was invited.”

This surprised me. Until now, I had assumed that every member of the audience had bought the expensive tickets on their own.

“I have lost my daughter, who so loved to sing… This is why I sent an invitation to some young women, so they could listen to this new opera on her behalf.”

On his daughter’s behalf… This still was the real reason behind the invitation, wasn’t it?

“And I thought that such special invitations should only be sent to equally special ladies. I used the London Times and other sources as reference… Miss Amelia is an incredible chess champion, and at such a young age!”

Mr Whistler’s words of praise were directed at the young lady in question, but they fell on deaf ears. I wondered if she had a different reason for participating… Such a young and pretty girl should not be involved in this sort of eternal life game.

As silence fell once more, I noticed that Professor Layton’s gaze was fixed on Melina. When she saw that he was smiling at her, she leaned closer to Mr Whistler, trying to avoid his gaze.

“She’s a shy little girl…” Mr Whistler said defensively.

“Mr Whistler, is it true that Melina was reborn with eternal life?” the professor asked.

Amelia and Mr Brock were both surprised to hear this, focusing their attention on Melina. Mr Whistler looked at me accusingly for a moment.

“Of course not. I adopted her, and it just so happens that she has the same name as my late daughter. That’s all there is to it.”

“But…”

I tried to tell him what Melina had said, but he interrupted me.

“Janice… I am very touched that you wish Melina could come back to life. But she is no longer with us…”

Tears welled up in his eyes.

“So I decided that I would live long, for my daughter’s sake. Then at some point, that man came to me and offered the idea to create an opera on the theme of ‘eternal life.’ I agreed to it… but I never thought it would come to this.”

Mr Whistler was looking at the floor and wiping his tears. I looked at him with great sadness.

At that moment…

“Aah!”

Luke stood up at the same time as his yell, causing the boat to rock for an instant, and he continued to fumble on his words afterwards. His gaze was fixed on a single thing.

“Professor, the ship! It’s shaped like a crown!”

I followed his finger pointing at the scene, and saw that it was true. The Crown Petone must have been designed in such way that this shape would appear once it became a ship…

“To everyone currently standing in a lifeboat, congratulations.”

The voice resonated from somewhere around us, and my heart immediately lept with fear. That man could not be found anywhere; only the anxiety he caused remained, perpetually close to us all.

His voice had to come from some sort of device, hidden somewhere, in order for it to reach the lifeboats.

“You have all moved a step closer to eternal life… Please enjoy your trip, as it will last for some time.”

To our surprise, mechanical rails emerged out of the lifeboat, and some sort of engine started by itself. The two lifeboats sped up, rapidly moving away from the Crown Petone…

…which, a moment later, exploded.

One, then two, then more deafening detonations resonated and reached our ears from afar. Bright red smoke from the blasts splashed across the night sky and the azure sea.

At the same time, countless debris started to rain down on the lifeboats.

I heard a scream coming from the other one, and it brought me back to reality. Melina! I had to protect this child!

I quickly held her in my arms and took cover at the bottom of the lifeboat.

　⇚　　　　　　　⇛

[ulquiorrapleasecallmetrash]

Do u have any SFW and NSFW headcanons for shinji hirako with a fem s/o (for the nsfw portion if s/o could be the more submissive one thatd be real cool)

Shinji Hirako SFW and NSFW Relationship Headcanons

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

Fandom: Bleach

Rated: 18+ and Rated G

Warnings: Nothing much besides general kinky stuff.

Admin Harmony🐯: Here you goooo. Enjoy!

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

○I think we all know that Shinji is a clown. I mean he is a goofy ass man. 

○But that doesn't mean that it is a bad thing though. 

○He can easily make his s/o laugh and women do love funny men. 

○He will make funny faces at his s/o when she is feeling down. 

○He will try his best just to cheer her up because he hates seeing her look so upset.

○Hiyori is very perplexed that Shinji, of all people was able to pull a woman and she will clearly say that to him. 

○"How in hell were you able to pull a woman like s/o?!" *cue shinji grinning* "What can I say, I got game." 

○Shinji will also rub it in her face that he has an s/o just to piss her off even more lol. 

○Loves to tease his s/o but more in a light hearted way and out of endearment. He will call his s/o silly, dummy, goofy just as much as his s/o would with him. 

○Secretly has a cute nickname but only says it when it's just the two of you. The nickname is the object you adore like a favorite animal, thing or flower. 

○Despite his goofy side he does have a serious and soft side as well. 

○When he gets like this he will become more touch starved, craving sweet kisses and cuddles.

○His favorite part to be kissed is on his cheek and nose, he will blush furiously if you kiss him there. 

○His favorite part to kiss you is on the forehead when he wants to be tender and the hand when he tries to be romantic. Which actually works well. 

○ He will also purposely kiss you on the lips just to make Hiyori mad. 

○As a matter of fact your first kiss was him kissing you on the lips and then Hiyori hitting him with her flip flop. 

○"Ow what the hell?!" "Get a room you idiot!" 

○His favorite things to do with you are things that are too normal. Like assisting you with cooking, watching tv, reading, or going to the park together. He will encourage you to play on the swings with him and you will have to push him and vice versa. 

○Loves singing disney songs with his s/o too and will sing in the most over the top way just to make you laugh.

○But yeah I think this is a very cute relationship 10/10. 

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

○ Since Shinji is the more dominant one I could picture him being a real tease.

○ Shinji can both me a hard and soft dom it depends on what the s/o wants. 

○ Like, he loves teasing his partner verbally and physically.

○ He will finger you so much until you beg him to let you come. He really enjoys begging; it just makes him feel powerful. 

○"You're so wet for me, princess. Do you want to come for me?" 

○Really good at dirty talk, also is great at praising his s/o as well. 

○"You're such a dirty little thing, do you want to come on my cock?" 

○"You're so good for me, such a good girl, come for me." 

○ He loves edging his s/o rather if it is with himself or with a toy. 

○Shinji gives me more of an ass man type, like I just feels likes he loves ass you know? So since he loves ass he will totally love to spank his s/o as well. 

○Pretty open when it comes to kinks as long as it isn't too weird or obscure. He will also won't judge for these kinks because he lowkey kinda a freak. 

○ Since he loves ass he also loves anal. He loves anal and will spank his s/o while doing it. 

○ Loves dirty talk as well, especially if the s/o loves name calling. 

○I feel like he would also enjoy roleplay as well. It can be your classic sexy nurse, school girl to something really obscure and specific roleplay. It really depends on how he feels. 

○ He loves cumming on his s/o face. He has a weird thing of watching his s/o being covered in his come, 

○His favorite places to come on his s/o are their face, boobs and butt cheeks. 

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°