#unlimited hot pockets ???

[sukirichi]

WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN | G. SATORU x READER

You’ve been pretending not to see ghosts your whole life in order to blend in perfectly, but you can’t ignore the cute ghost with a bright smile standing in front of your door.

cw. ghost! gojo. fem! reader. minimal fluff. graphic depictions of murder. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of grief. mentions of being under the influence (alcohol and drugs.) characters with depression. unedited.

notes. wrote a lil something for gojo since it’s been a while since i wrote any jjk fics and i missed it :( also should i open requests again? i miss writing one shots lol

wc. 7k

You met him on the first night of winter.

Eager to get home after a long and tiring day at work, you blow hot air on your freezing palms to keep them warm before stuffing it deep in your coat pockets. The walk home was less than fifteen minutes, and you’ve always refused to buy a car because you enjoyed the journey and wanted to familiarize yourself more with the city. You previously lived in the outskirts, but after a phone call from the main department telling you you were promoted and had to transfer in the city, you found yourself packing up on the weekend and renting a cheap apartment.

Located in the middle of everything – convenience stores, medical facilities, popular bars, and a quaint looking flower shop with a cute florist – you thought your apartment was perfect. It was a little shabby, you had to admit. The plumbing didn’t work well and electricity got cut off at random times in the night that resulted in a headache because you couldn’t send that damn email, but the landlord offered an extremely cheap rent that you couldn’t refuse. Plus, it was only a few minutes walk from your office and your neighbors were peaceful.

Well, most of them anyway.

Your neighbors consisted of mostly old couples who were so silent and desolate that you often forgot they existed, your eyes widening whenever you saw an unfamiliar old lady walking and asking you how your day was before realizing, Oh, she’s Mrs. Oliver, I completely forgot. Save for the married couple who were always throwing pots and pans at each other because darn Ronald couldn’t put the toilet seat back down, your place was placid. The landlord was ecstatic when you saw her poster and inquired for a unit, muttering something about not getting enough tenants to keep the place going because of ‘a traumatic issue.’

You’d really rather not ask what it was.

Besides, you’ve never been curious enough of what the world has to offer, simply because you see things – or rather fragments of people – that you’d rather not see. Ever since you started seeing ghosts at a young age of four, people avoided you like the plague, calling you a ‘freak’ and whatnot. Your family soon moved away to a much smaller place in the city because they couldn’t handle seeing their child who often talked to ghosts and sat in corners alone while laughing by herself be criticized by others. They didn’t believe you, of course, often calling it a ‘lonely child’s imagination.’ They sent you to multiple therapists who always assured you that they would listen to whatever problems you were having to cause you to be this way.

Unfortunately for them, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. You weren’t lonely at all. You saw a dozen ghosts every day who were always ecstatic at finding out you could see them, and they were more than willing to interact. As a child, you always thought ghosts were more interesting than actual people because they had an unlimited amount of time to converse with you, and they have had so many experiences to share with you. 

When you grew older, however, you started to see yourself in other’s eyes, realization dawning on you that on social norms, you are, indeed, a freak.

Determined to fit in more and also sick of being faced with countless counselors who strongly believed you had a traumatic experience when your whole life has been nothing but bland and plain, you started ignoring them. It wasn’t easy at first, though. These ghosts have always kept you company while everyone gave you the side eye without knowing who you really were, and you admit you felt lonely in the beginning and a little guilty when they were convinced you couldn’t see them anymore.

You participated more in school activities and even joined a photography club in high school (you had to quit a month later because ghosts kept appearing on your photos, and you had to burn them in order not to freak anyone out) and with each baby step you took, you started to fit in more. The proud look your parents had on their faces when you had finally become ‘normal’ and even got an award for being an exemplary student was enough to keep you going on this journey, and you ignored the lonely spirits so hard that you eventually started seeing less and less of them.

Until now.

Standing in front of your door was a young man, his back awkwardly bent and long, beautiful fingers fiddling awkwardly with one another. He stood barefoot yet wore a comfy looking blue university hoodie and grey sweatpants, and his silver hair seemed shiny and healthy enough to  not consider him a homeless man who was lost and simply wandering. Tipping your head to the side, you rack your brain to remember if you had any neighbours like him. 

His head snaps in your direction. 

He is definitely not your neighbour. You would have remembered such a cute looking guy.

He had unnaturally ethereal futures, prominent cheekbones becoming more pronounced when you meet his eyes, and you blink to gain control over your body when you realize you’ve been staring too long than what would be considered acceptable. You don’t even deny you’ve been checking him out, although you do ignore the almost puppy-like way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, causing your heart to jump a little. Just a little. You also liked how his hair complimented perfectly with his pale skin – he seemed like an exact embodiment of winter. 

You walk forward, spinning your keys at the end of your pointer finger. Smiling at him politely, you paused in your tracks. He’d been blocking your door. “Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

No matter how cute he was, you wouldn’t hesitate to break his nose if he was a criminal.

His pretty hands come up to his face to cover his mouth falling open, and you take a step back when he does a little jump and starts laughing. “You can see me?”

“Uhm, yes,” you answer. “You’re blocking my door, so yeah, I can very much see you.”

As if realizing just now he stood in the way of you and your comfortable bed, who was calling out to you by now, he mutters a quick apology under his breath before stepping aside, a goofy grin remaining on his face and his childish behavior makes you scoff in amusement. He was still watching you even after you’ve unlocked your door, and you sigh at him. “Is there any reason you’re still standing outside my apartment, or should I call the police?”

Instead of looking worried like you expected him to, his smile only gets bigger. “Actually, I live here, well… I used to.”

You stare at him blankly with a slack expression on your face, watching as his features turn sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Looking down on his bare feet, you mumble a curse under your breath when you realize he’s hovering. 

“Not again,” you say to yourself before placing a palm against your forehead. It’s been years since you last saw a ghost, why did you have to see them now out of all times? A new branch is opening up and your superiors have given you the project of making sure the launch goes well, and you didn’t really want a ghost bothering you with your biggest task of all time. You worked hard for this promotion, you didn’t want to take one step forward and two steps back. Glaring at the undeniably attractive ghost who still hovered in your doorway, you decided he wasn’t your problem. 

“Well, goodnight.”

You slam the door on him and trudge towards your bedroom, ignoring his “Wait!” as you unwrap the red scarf around your neck and plop on your bed almost lazily, moaning when your stiff muscles finally relax. The bed was so soft and warm because you’d left the heater on accidentally, and you’re about to be sent to dreamland when a voice beside you speaks up.

“You should take off your makeup before going to bed.”

Opening your eyes and coming face-to-face with the ghost who was resting his chin in both of his hands and laying on your bed, you grab a pillow and throw it at him, and he grins when the object goes past him completely. “Get out of my house, stop bothering me!”

“Technically, darling, this is still my house,” he tells you and starts sitting up before crossing his legs. “The unit was still named after me before you came.”

“Then why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“I was murdered here four years ago,” he deadpans, soft voice flitting into a murmur as he plays with his fingers again, refusing to look at you. “That’s why I never left. Judging from what you said earlier, you can see ghosts, and you know exactly why we’re still here.”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know and–”

“It’s quite alright,” he shrugs. 

Silence soon joins the two of you; the ghost playing with the ends of your blanket with a far-off look in his face while you study his features, and something tugs at your heart. The reason why ghosts remain here instead of passing on like they were supposed to was because it meant someone was still holding on to them and absolutely refused to let go, or if they had unfinished business that needed to be resolved before they could go in peace. You’ve met ghosts like him who were murdered, and all of them remained with a seething rage and insatiable need for revenge, unable to accept that there wasn’t much they could do in their state. 

As for the one sitting in your ghost, a small smile tugs at the end of his pink lips as he takes in your bedroom, amusement dancing in his eyes at the amount of stuffed animals you had and some framed photos of you as a child. 

“You decorate much better than me, and you’re a lot more organized, too. This place was such a mess back when I was still alive.”

There was an unmissable hint of sadness behind his voice, and you can’t help but ask his name. “I’m Satoru,” he grins, “and for the record, I’ve always been here, just floating through time and space, but not the afterworld yet. For some reason, ever since you arrived, I just appeared back where I left off.”

You nod and take in his words, noticing how he clears his throat and sends a sheepish look your way. “If it’s not too much of a bother, can I ask for your help?”

“What is it?”

He stands up and heads toward your desk, although you supposed it was his since the furniture had already been here before you came. You didn’t think too much about it back then and only felt grateful that you had one less piece of furniture to buy, especially since it was empty. Apparently not, because Satoru keeps digging around through your files with his tongue peeking out his lips, and you vaguely recall that ghosts are able to touch things after feeding off of energy from living beings.

Letting out an ‘aha!’ when his hand finally lands on what he’s looking for, he tenderly places a photo on your outstretched palm with a shy smile. Inside the photo was a beautiful man, probably in his mid twenties, his hair up in a messy bun as he grinned at the camera. Beside him, Satoru’s eyes are closed with his head thrown back in laughter, relishing the feeling of that warm sunny day, and you unconsciously frown at it.

“His name’s Suguru,” he began, his eyes turning glossy at the sight of the polaroid. “He was my best friend before I died.”

Pursing your lips and feeling the tension thicken the room, you ask him, “Why are you telling me this?”

“He’s the reason why I can’t go,” he admits, shoulders dropping while his eyes remain trained on her. “He blames himself for everything and refuses to accept that I’m gone, that’s why I’m still here.”

You remain silent and take a deep breath, your head pounding at the situation. It was a beautiful first night of winter, the perfect weather for you to do your work from home while nestling a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, yet it seems your plans changed and you have to help this ghost out. A part of you wants to reach out and embrace him in a hug, but you know you’ll only end up stumbling on your own feet and clearly, Satoru wants to move on to the next chapter of his journey.

“Can you please tell him I’m okay now?”

When he looks at you like that, shoulders hanging low and an almost shy smile decorating his innocent features, it’s hard to say no.

“I will.”

Through the past few weeks since you’ve met Satoru, your life seemed to light up like a Christmas tree without you noticing. He was a funny guy and often pulled pranks on you, like slamming the cabinets open and closed or leaving your window open in the middle of the night, laughing when you shout at him as your teeth chatter and you slam your windows shut. 

“I could have died from the cold, you idiot!”

He keeps laughing as if he didn’t nearly kill you with hypothermia, “Well, if you die, I guess we’ll be together then,” and even has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows. You scowl at him and pull your jacket closer to your body, asking what he wants from you because he never goes this far to demand for your attention unless he wants something from you.

“What do you want this time?”

“I wanted to finish that series we were watching the other day,” he pouts rather childishly, “You always tell me not to watch it without you.”

On a particular weekend where you felt like your brains were about to explode from exhaustion due to your work piling up, you refused to wake up until noon, and you felt thankful Satoru knew how tired you were and let you have your much needed rest. When you woke up, a bowl of cereal was already waiting for you in your kitchen island, meaning the reason you felt tired even after that long slumber was because he fed off your energy to give you food.

Feeling thankful for the simple, sweet action, you munched on it happily. It wasn’t anything special and the corn flakes had gone too crusty for your liking, but Satoru’s happiness at you appreciating what he prepared was worth it. After breakfast, you dumped the bowl into the sink and planned to wash it later, opting to flick through Netflix for a good show. Satoru had excitedly pointed at one title that he said he’s always wanted to watch, and the two of you became hooked on it soon enough. Lunch and dinner were both forgotten as you two sat beside each other, your leg against his. Although you couldn’t exactly feel him, his presence was warm.

You and Satoru had been so immersed in the show and unexpected turn of events that time flew by and it was already half past three. He was the first to notice and he jumped from his seat, his hands waving worriedly in a comical manner. “I’m so sorry I made you skip your meals! Aren’t you hungry, you should have some pizza delivered or something.”

Glancing at the clock, you hummed when you realized it was indeed late. You weren’t feeling hungry since you were mostly abeyant, and nothing was open to deliver food around this time anyway. “It’s okay,” you shrug, “I’m not really hungry, and that show is addicting. Oh, and don’t watch it without me! I know you always go ahead when I’m not home!”

Satoru huffs and plops down next to you dramatically, rolling his eyes and taunting you. “Then don’t go to work, Little Miss Manager.”

You poke your finger with his forehead but it only passes through and he laughs, “I need money to survive, idiot.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses and points to your bedroom. “You’ve still got to edit your final draft, so you have to wake up early. Go to bed, don’t worry about the dish, I’ll handle it.”

“Liar, you’ll only feed from my energy so you can play video games!”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” He counters back as he proceeds to your sink and pumps out soap to the sponge, “You were the one who bought me that console!”

“Only because you kept whining to me how much you wanted it,” you retorted before yawning, and his eyes softened at the sight of you. He rarely gets to see you dressed so comfortably in a loose shirt, cardigan and pajama pants since you were such a busy woman whose fashion sense monotonously consisted of pearl white button-up blouses and knee-length pencil skirts. Prudish and preppy, he thought, but it suits you just fine.  

“You should sleep now,” he reminds you with a nod of his head back to your bedroom, and you obey, simply because your eyes were sore and tired from binge watching. You’re in the process of cocooning yourself under the covers when he calls out in a sing-song voice, “Thank you for the console, by the way. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Shut up!” You scream, and his rambunctious laugh was the last thing you heard before your body wholeheartedly welcomed sleep. 

You’ve been thinking about that day ever since, the moment replaying over and over again in your head, successfully distracting you from focusing on your work. Even your co-workers have noticed that you’re lusterlacking lately, but how could you focus on anything else when you had a charming yet lonely ghost who was waiting for you at home?

For days on end, you can only think about the cheerful and carefree sound of his laugh as if he had so much happiness in his lithe body that he couldn’t contain. Your heart always got tugged in its heartstrings whenever you had trouble falling asleep and he sat beside you in your bed, singing you lullabies and caressing your cheek. You started to feel him now – the gush of air in your skin meant he was pressing onto you, and the more you got attached to him, the more you got confused with your feelings.

He never told you how he was murdered and you never asked, figuring it would be too sensitive for him, and your hands balled into fists each time you remembered he was dead. Satoru is such a precious person who only has too much love to give, and it was completely unfair and outrageous that his life was taken away from him in a single flash. You’ve done your research at work, and only a few articles came up regarding his death. The case remains a mystery and still unsolved until it was completely closed due to lack of leads or suspects, but the police force highly suspected someone had broken in and committed homicide without theft, since not a single belonging of him got touched. They concluded that the murderer was drunk and lost, because he was a well-loved person in their campus, and they couldn’t find anyone who could possibly harbor abhorrence for the sweet boy.

But most of all, a part of you wants him to stay. He frequently asks you if you’ve talked to Suguru, and you always denied it, making up an excuse about how he was hard to find because he graduated years ago. ‘He’s hard to find,’ you would tell him one day, and ‘He doesn’t have social media,’ the next. Even though he told you he majored in Forensics, you couldn’t find anyone in the city. 

It’s a half lie. You never found Suguru, because you never looked for him in the first place.

You know it’s selfish of you to be this way, because you know Satoru wants to move on. He doesn’t say anything about it and keeps laughing instead, but sometimes when he thinks you’re too immersed in your work to notice him, you look at him. Being around you only reminds him of what he no longer has, and one look at him has you knowing he was someone who loved life. Satoru loved to travel with his friends, and he still had so many dreams left unfulfilled that made him feel empty yet desperate to be in the afterworld.

However, it is hard for you to let him go. 

No matter how much you try to fit in, deep inside, you know you will always be too different from the rest. You still struggled with socializing and didn’t have a single friend yet a hundred acquaintances, and you never realized how lonely you were until he came. His smile lit up the whole room and his laugh was melodious, and you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who cared so much for you. He liked to play games and pull pranks on you quite often, but underneath all that lies a kind heart.

Satoru knows exactly when his jokes go too far and apologizes right away, promising not to do something to upset you again and always doing something entirely new to cheer you up. On nights where you’re feeling absolutely drained or you carried home your anger at your co-workers, you go to sleep without taking off your makeup. When you wake, there’s used wipes in the bin, the hovering boy in your apartment proud of his work. Sometimes you forget to cover yourself in blankets too, plopping on top of the sheets almost lifelessly. It’s in those times that he shows how much he cares for you, and you soon wake up feeling warm surrounded by heavy blankets and freshly cooked breakfast.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for him. It made interacting with him difficult, because you knew you had to let him go, yet you couldn’t.

He watches you carefully and gauges your reaction, waiting to see if you’ll finish the series with him or not. It’s a Wednesday night, or more accurately an early morning on Thursday and the launch happens in less than a week. Logically, it is much better to go back to sleep and refuse, but he is rocking his weight on his heels back and forth, and you realize perhaps he has been lonely since his death too.

“Fine,” you agree, and now he’s bouncing excitedly next to you on your couch as he keeps pressing buttons in your remote.

“You’re the best, you know that?” 

You only hum in response, and Satoru soon becomes lost in the show. Your eyes aren’t focused on the screen – on him rather. Placed on top of your fist lies your cheek as you study his side profile, trying to memorize the slope of his nose and the snow-white hair that keeps falling onto his eyes that makes him flip it to the side every now and then to watch the show. His right leg keeps bouncing up and down, a habit he had when he was anxiously anticipating something, and then stopping before his left leg went bouncing instead, meaning he didn’t like the situation.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you smile sadly when you realize his favorite character had been betrayed. “Did you see that? That freaking woman, he only loved her and she snitched him out like that?!”

Shrugging one shoulder and feeling your eyes become droopy, you reply, “Well, he’s a grave robber, Satoru, he was only nice to her because he liked her. She had every right to mislead him.”

“I don’t understand, but okay,” he relents and leans back, eyes closing before he intertwines his hands behind his neck and murmurs, “I hated the ending.”

“Not everyone gets happy endings,” you add grimly, watching the muscles underneath his hoodie flex at your comment. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes, and plucking up the courage, you breathe in sharply before slowly lowering yourself until your head is on his shoulder. 

You keep yourself still in order not to fall, and your eyes remain fixated on his hand, silently yearning to be able to touch him. If he was alive, would his skin be as warm as his presence? His hand flexes and trails from his lap until it’s beside yours, and you hear him swallow audibly before locking your fingers with his.

A tear falls down your face. You could feel him. 

Satoru hums a familiar tune, and you chuckle happily when you recognize it’s the song he always sings to you to make you sleep, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles.

His other hand tilts your chin upwards until you’re looking directly at his eyes. You hold in your breath, his lips only a centimeter away from yours. If you lean forward, you could kiss him… but you don’t. 

“Why are you crying?”

Because I don’t want you to go.

“Nothing,” you lie and offer a forced smile which he notices, but doesn’t comment about it. “I just feel happy.”

He nods slowly before leaning forward, and he gets so close that you can faintly see his freckles that dot across his cheeks lovingly, and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours. Satoru sighs as if he’s been waiting too long to do that, and he is pushing against you so softly, so tenderly, that it almost fits the same atmosphere your heart creates. He is soft in everything he does, from his innocent features and smile that puts the stars to shame, to how he holds you and caresses you. His hand trails from your neck to pull you closer, and you moan when his tongue peeks out and playfully coaxes yours out to play. Tears are streaming down your face when you kiss him back slowly, tongues moving in sync as they danced harmoniously instead of battling each other for dominance. Caressing your face that fits perfectly in his hand, he brushes away your tears with the pad of his thumbs. 

A moment passes before you two are breathing heavily with your foreheads pressed against each other, and the silence is broken when he speaks, his voice coming out raspy and out of breath. 

“Suguru… has been struggling long before I died.”

“What?”

“My best friend… he got into a rough patch. Had troubles with his parents, went down the wrong path, and met dangerous people. I’d heard rumors he was going around skipping class and talking to people I’ve never seen before, but I chose to ignore it. Suguru would’ve told me everything once he was ready. And I was stupid, you know? I saw it. I saw how he stopped smiling, how he’d lost weight. How his eyes no longer looked happy,” Satoru’s hands trembled, the blue of his eyes hauntingly dark. “One night, I overheard him talking to someone on the phone. I’ve never heard him that angry, and I got worried. I wanted to stop him from whatever he’ll end up doing so I invited him over but… Next thing I know, he came over here, drunk and high, and stabbed me until I bled to death.”

You gasp and shudder as you imagine the scene, Satoru lying on his bed as he waited anxiously for his friend. You see him smiling at Suguru excitedly because he’d actually come, but fear replaces it when his friend succumbs to the madness. The image of Satoru drowning in his own pool of blood made you clench your jaw.

“There had to be evidence left.”

Satoru smiles sadly as if to tell you it doesn’t bother him anymore, but you can’t shake it off. How can a man be so blinded in his own misery that he could take his own best friend’s life? “He was a forensics major; he knew how to cover up his crime.”

A pregnant pause fills the room as you furrow your brows, the sound of the cold wind tapping against your windows as you rack your head to make a decision. Now that you knew the truth, you had to tell the police about it, but how would they believe you if there was no evidence found? And if the case was cleared, and Suguru had finally moved on, that means...

“You can ask me to stay.”

“What?” You breathe out, looking at his eyes with sadness pooling in them. He’s smiling, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You pull away from him completely until he’s at an arm’s length away. He doesn’t look hurt by your action but he sighs, reaching out for you and pausing with his hand mid-air when you raise a palm to stop him.

He must’ve known you’re in love with him. Just as he also knows that once he leaves, you’ll be hurt, and he doesn’t want you to feel that.

You shake your head and stand up harshly. The tears now uncontrollable as you slam your bedroom door to his face. You’re slightly thankful he doesn’t come after you and leaves you alone instead. You needed time. Time to think, time to put his needs over yours - time to forget him. Rummaging through the documents on your desk, you keep looking for it until the polaroid is clutched between your fingers, and you silently place it in your handbag.

Tomorrow, you would set things straight.

Suguru Geto was a hard man to find. He’d fled from the spotlight as one of the  best students of his university after Satoru Gojo’s death. The image of his best friend, who was always in high spirits and laughed without a care in the world, covered in his own blood was a sight that scarred him for the rest of her life. 

But there was one more person who hadn’t moved on from that night.

Ieri Shoko, the woman who ran first at the hospital when Satoru’s parents were away for a business trip. She didn’t want to believe it at first. Satoru had always seemed so full of life, so in love with what the world had to offer. He’d been so young – it just couldn’t be. They had to be lying, right?

But when she finally saw her friend’s bloodied corpse on that cold hospital bed, she’d fallen apart.

She went to sleep crying to herself every night, regretting and blaming everything on herself. Her instinct told her it was Suguru who had done this to him. She barged into his dorm room, screaming and flailing, punching the taller man and effectively breaking his nose as she dragged him down by the collar. Suguru was already questioned by the police after Satoru’s murder, but his alibi of being in a bar was factual, and they had proven his innocence after checking surveillance cameras. He was only gone for a few minutes before he appeared on the dance floor all over again, and they believed him when he said he only disappeared to go to the restroom.

Presumably to wash the blood off his hands.

Shoko didn’t believe it. “Tell me you didn’t kill him, tell me!”

Suguru growls, frustrated at her for even accusing him of doing such a horrendous thing, and he feigns his innocence as he pries her hands away from his collar. “I didn’t do it, Ieri, I was at a bar!”

“Bullshit!” She screams, slamming a vase onto the floor and dropping down to the floor as sobs wrecked through her body. “I smelled your perfume the moment I walked in. I know it was you…”

His eyes widened, but he remained silent because she had always been smart and too observant for her own good. He shrugs his collar back into place and goes back to his bedroom, but not before darkly muttering, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill him…”

Four years later, and you’re sitting in front of Officer Kento, an intimidating man with empty eyes staring at you hardly, his face devoid of any emotion. He’d been the same officer who worked on Satoru’s case before it was closed. “And why should I believe you? Ghosts don’t exist.”

You snap your head up from your lap to him and scowl, “I just want to help you here, Officer.  You need to re-open this case.”

He abruptly stands up and slams his palm harshly against the desk, his eyes filled with rage as he stares down at you. “You don’t think I haven’t tried before?!”

“Well then, try harder!” You fumed, standing up. “If you don’t resolve this case, he’s going to remain here forever, lost and nowhere to go. Do you really want him to suffer even after his death?”

“How am I supposed to believe everything you say is true?”

Plucking out their polaroid from your bag and shoving it to his chest, you watch as he crumbles piece by piece. He holds the photo tentatively before cradling it to his chest, and what you presumed was a cold-hearted man was actually just a lost person.

“I don’t know why you closed that case, but it isn’t over. He’s still here, and he needs our help.”

You turn away from him to give him peace and wrap your fingers around the doorknob, “Suguru Geto is out there walking freely. You can still make a difference, Sir. It’s not too late.”

Happiness was a concept you believed to be fleeting.

One moment, you are giggling with the ghosts who tell you funny stories and whisper mischievously in your ear the correct answers in your pre-school days, and the next moment you are pressing a hand against your car windows, watching as the only people you considered friends are witnessing you leave without a goodbye.

That feeling comes back again and again, from little moments such as eating lunch with your high school friends and making empty promises to keep in touch after graduation, giggling when a cute boy comes by and asks for your number. But like any other moment in your life where you feel happy, that feeling dissipates as fast as it came.

The bell attached to the door chimes to signal a customer, and the cute florist you met on the first day you moved to this city, Choso, looks up from the pot he’s currently watering. Bowing politely, he sends a pleased smile upon the sight of you.

You tuck a stray hair behind your ear and return the smile back, his musky perfume blending in well with the sweet aroma of flowers as he stops in front of you. “Hi, I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “Our latest branch just opened downtown, so I was a bit busy with that.”

“Oh, you work for that bookshop everyone’s been talking about non-stop?” You nod and laugh at his question, proud of yourself that the new opening had been successful. The state campus was only three bus rides away, and with the extensive amount of books your bookstore offered, along with its affordable prices, everyone’s been talking about it. “I’m proud of you, it was a success,” he commends, rubbing his dirties hands on his apron before opening the door for you. What can I get you?”

Personally, you thought Choso was a bit too rugged to be working in a floral shop. He always seemed to carry himself in such an awkward manner and had an authoritative yet welcoming aura to him, his shy smiles the highlights of your day. “I want to give it to my friend. Today’s their special day.”

“I see,” Choso’s eyes are already scanning the plethora of flowers he has in his shop, his brows pinching together in thought. “Can you tell me a little bit about them? It’d help to make their bouquet more personal.”

A smile makes its way to your face. “They’re… bright, carefree, innocent, and pure. They almost seem like an angel, if you ask me. I was also thinking about something that represents young love, and… new beginnings?”

You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying. The words coming out of your mouth are beyond your control. You’re sure you’re making a fool out of yourself, but Choso nods understandingly, frows burrowed before he snaps his fingers and turns to you. “White roses describe all of those, but if you want, I can whip up more flowers for you.”

He makes a move to get his scissors and starts listing off flowers with the same meanings, but you run up to him and not so accidentally wrap your hands around his to get him to stop. His eyes widen at your close proximity. You clear your throat and take a step backward, fighting the urge to smile when his cheeks are dusted a fine pink. “White roses itself are fine, thank you.”

He gulps and heads towards the back door, coming out later with a bouquet of white roses. You reach for your wallet before his arm wraps around your wris, his smile wobbly and hesitant. “It’s on the house. You can pay me back with a cup of coffee next time.”

Eyebrows rising at his smoothness, you gratefully accept the flowers and cradle it near to your chest. “A cup of coffee it is.”

Choso chuckles shyly and ducks his head, and you leave the shop with a wave of your hand before walking further and further. Your surroundings shift from the high-rise building and busy streets to a hill covered in trees sprawled out everywhere, flowers blooming and withering at every corner. Sitting down on the soil with your legs crossed, you place the bouquet in front of his headstone, his framed polaroid with Suguru standing in front of you. 

It’s been exactly seven days since you last saw Satoru.

After countless sleepless nights of phone calls from Officer Kento, he’d finally cracked the case with your help. Suguru Geto was found. He’d confessed to all his crimes, his handsome face weary yet relieved. It seemed he’d never once forgotten about that night when he betrayed his friend, and just before he was ushered behind bars, he turned to you. You wished you felt anger towards him for what he did, but there was only sadness. Only regret in his eyes. He looked so tired, so hopeless.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “Thank you for finding me.”

A nod was all you could give. Suguru felt so familiar, yet so strange. You’ve heard tons of stories about him from Satoru, all about their happiest moments together. He’d been his closest friend, the one he shared so many dreams with, and the one who knew him the most. Maybe he knew Satoru wouldn’t fight back once his demons consumed him. Maybe when Suguru was holding his friend’s bloodied hand in the night, he knew – Satoru was never mad at him. He only wanted to save his friend. Maybe he knew Satoru wasn’t completely dead yet, not when he lived in everyone’s heart, and most especially yours.

That night when you returned home, the apartment felt colder than ever. Normally, it would mean a ghost lingered. But there was no longer the sound of Satoru’s humming, and the dishes were left half-washed in your sink. And for the first time in your life, you hated your eyes and how it gave you the ability to see the traces he left behind. 

Because you wished you had enough time to say goodbye. You wish you had told him everything, but the thought of being another tether to the living realm weighed down on you. You couldn’t do that to him. He had to go. For Satoru to truly move into the next life, you had to close your heart and forget him. Just as Suguru’s forgiven himself, and just as Shoko’s accepted her friend’s death - you too had to say goodbye. 

Tears clouded your vision.

The white remnants of his soul sparkled in your apartment. For the last time, you watched as the blue of his hoodie finally disappeared, his hands scrubbing your dishes away fading into nothingness. The plate drops and breaks. Satoru stood, his legs vanishing bit by bit as he saw the running water through his hands. He’d wanted to return your apartment to the way it was before he’d met you, but he knew – his time was running out. He didn’t have energy left to turn everything off.

The water floods your apartment. The new series he’d dearly loved still plays on the TV. 

But he was here – hugged by the earth and decorated with flowers, smiling at you from far away even when you could no longer see him. Placing the bouquet of white roses down at his grave, you smiled at the photo they’d taken months before he died. He still looked just as beautiful – all wide smiles, kind eyes, and soft hands.

To you, he was still alive in your heart.

“I’ll see you around, Satoru.”

[pedge-page]

There's Only One Joel Miller

Joel Miller x FEDRA!f!reader

Summary: In exchange for turning a blind eye when he sneaks out of the QZ, you make him fuck you whenever you want.

Warnings: unprotected sex, riding, dub con with creampie, smallest tiniest breeding kink, mentions of multiple partners

18+ ONLY

- - - -

When the two of you meet every week, it's with almost no words as he rounds the dark corner. You point to the ground behind the dumpster. You knew what Joel was capable of, but in this transaction, you always led. He briefly scanned the area before sitting down. You had already undone your pants, Joel shoving them off you before barely tugging his cock out of his loose jeans. You threw your legs over his hips, trapping him under you while he leaned against the wall, his knees hiked up in case he needed to throw you off and stand quickly for a get-away.

He spit in his hand, stroking his cock with the wetness as you wrapped your hand around his to align your pussy to his tip. You sank down with a silent cry. It was rough, fast, only seeking each others pleasures in the quickest way possible. Your back arched uncomfortably as you bounced on top of him, his fingers gripping painfully into your hips, but it didn't matter when Joel Miller had you cumming on his impressive member in a matter of minutes. Hot breaths and whimpers leave your mouth, trying to remain quiet when other patrol members were switching guards. You only had these brief minutes together to swap services.

He always makes you cum around his dick first, and within seconds was usually pulling out of you, watching you stumble to the ground as he fisted his cock, stroking to completion, shooting ribbons on the wall next to your head.

You sigh, standing to put your bottoms back in to place. You both acted like clockwork. A business exchange of goods.

But you were antsy for more. More time. More affection. Some touching. A goddamn kiss or something. Joel wasn't any of that to you, and while you appreciated the unspoken boundary of your agreement, you couldn't help but feel an ache each time he walked away.

There were plenty Joel Miller's in the QZ. Men who wanted supplies, drugs, guns, all of which you had an unlimited arsenal of. Men who'd happily make that same deal with you, even without the bonus of your FEDRA perks.

When Joel would be away for days at a time, you filled the ache with more Joel's. Blurred faces, grabby hands, quick fucks. Very few actually brought you to completion but it didn't matter. It was nice to finally feel something when you needed it.

Joel returned one day through his usual route when he saw you, face pressed against the wall he'd always take you against, some tall, thin man raw dogging you from behind. You were huffing in a mixture of frustration and desire, throwing yourself back on to him to seek your own gains.

Joel seethed from where he stood, watching you whore yourself out.

The skinny man pulled out abruptly and finished, oainting the dirty ground below him in spots of white. You straightened up, pulled a baggie from your breast pocket and threw it at the man. He barely caught it before he was scampering off, jeans still fitted loosely around his hip.

Not a moment later, you felt rough hands pushing you against the wall and turning you over. You'd almost shouted out in fear had you not instantly recognized that graying hair and brown eyes. Pouty lip pressed in a tight line as he cast down upon you.

"I don't like gettin' sloppy seconds," Joel grunted, hoisting your legs around his waist. Your back was flush against the wall, bricks digging into your spine as he lined up at your entrance. He spit over your mount, rubbing messy circles into your clit.

"You weren't—" you gasped when Joel thrust into your tight heat in one swift movement—"here."

He tugged your button shirt down, ripping each hinge off to expose your breasts. "Hey—!"

He fucked you in earnest, crashing his hips against yours, digging his hard cock deep into your cunt. He licked his lips at the sight of your bouncing breasts. "No one else gets to see these gorgeous tits but me, ya hear?"

Your mind was reeling—confusion mixed with lust at Joel's unexpected charge. Your arms snaked around his shoulders, fingers carding through his dark curls as he set a steady yet punishing pace.

You realized just how badly you had been craving him all week. How sorely stupid you were to think you could replace the memory of his touch with anyone else around here.

Sandwiched between his sturdy chest and the alley wall, you close your eyes and let go, moaning loudly in his ear.

With one big hand clutching your ass securely, he pressed the other flat against the wall next to your head to hold the two of you up. His grunts felt perfect against your neck as he desperately chased his high, finding solace in the home he'd carved out of your welcoming pussy.

Youre cumming hard with no warning, finally satisfied after the attempts to fill the void with the dozen men you'd fucked this week, bliss so consuming that you didn't even hear Joel's own groans against your chest, his movements stilling, buried balls deep inside as you clenched around him. His hands flexed against your ass as he brought your feet down safely to the ground and pulled himself out. You looked at the mess between you, wide eyed as you saw trickles of white stickiness stringing between your opening and coating Joel's softening cock.

"You... you didn't..."

His lips pressed against the tip of your cheekbone. "Just somethin' to remember me by this time." He winked before leaving you stumble to the ground on your ass, reeling from shock at the pool of cum pouring from your slit and on to the pavement below.

[apteryxparvus]

Love, found in the simplest of gestures.

Characters — Oikawa Tooru, Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma, Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu

Word count — 912

Content warning — none

Summary — the Haikyuu!! boys and their love languages.

💕 Oikawa Tooru — words of affirmation

Tooru is the epitome of affection — he never misses a chance to show his love and care for you. Each day starts with a good morning text in which he declares his undying love, always accompanied by a blurry yet endearing selfie. Throughout the day, he showers you with little messages of encouragement, wishing you good luck, and ensuring you feel his presence even in your busiest moments. And whenever he manages to squeeze in some extra moments during his packed schedule, he takes the opportunity to send you lengthy voice messages, expressing how much you mean to him, and how grateful he is to have you in his life.

Despite his busy days, he always manages to find a way to let you know you’re always on his mind.

Whenever he graces your apartment with his presence, there’s always a trail of colorful sticky notes following his wake — from the fridge door and bathroom mirror, to the hidden nooks of your kitchen pantry and beneath your pillow. Each note contains a heartfelt message, a testament of his affection.

And as you accidentally stumble across these surprises, a blush spreads across your cheeks, your heart stirring.

💕 Bokuto Koutarou — physical touch

Koutarou has always had an inclination towards affection, even before you became an official couple. Yes, his touchy nature extends to teammates and friends, but with you, it has always been different.

When he embraces you, wrapping his strong arms around, a warm, comforting aura would envelop you. Even before the two of you became a couple, you couldn’t help but notice how his touch would linger, how he’d hold you more intensely, just a tad bit longer.

Now that you are together, you eagerly anticipate his touch, his tender gestures. His touches demonstrate his depth of love — whether it be by a gentle caress of your arms and neck as you prepare breakfast in the morning, or his offer of a soothing back rub and shoulder massage after a long day of work.

💕 Kozume Kenma — gift giving

Kenma loves to give you presents. Even in his days as a high school student with limited pocket money, he would surprise you with thoughtful gifts. He’d meticulously plan affordable dates, all revolving around your shared interests, hoping to create meaningful and lasting memories.

Now, with his thriving career(s) and increased financial stability, he takes pleasure in spoiling you even more. But rather than opting for generic luxury gifts — gold necklaces and ruby earrings — he continues to channel his thoughtfulness into personalized adventures. From romantic getaway weekends to nearby hot spring towns, where you can both unwind and enjoy each other’s company, to day trips to amusement parks, VIP access included and unlimited rides that would send your adrenaline soaring.

But it’s the little gifts that truly warm your heart. Such as the newest book from your favorite author, complete with their signature, or a carefully crafted scrapbook filled with cherished photos and memorabilia.

💕 Suna Rintaro — quality time

Time spent with Rintaro is precious, every moment is a treasure. You know how demanding his volleyball career is, yet he goes above and beyond to carve out as much time as possible to be with you.

Sometimes, it means embarking on intricately planned dates (oftentimes, with the help of his teammates). And in those moments, it’s just the two of you, savoring each blissful moment of peace, reveling in each other’s presence like there’s no tomorrow. Other times, you find yourself casually joining the half dozen spectators during his team’s practice sessions. Seated on the bench, you witness his display of talent and dedication to the sport.

Amidst the whirlpool of your busy lives, there are simple moments when you and Rintaro unwind after a grueling week filled with an endless stream of demanding clients (for you) and arduous training matches (for him). In those stolen moments, you find solace in each other's presence, and as the day draws to a close, you find yourself nestled close in a tender embrace while watching TikTok videos on his phone.

Despite everything, Rintaro ensures that every moment you spent together is filled with love and quality time.

💕 Miya Osamu — acts of service

Osamu’s genuine love and care manifests through the bento boxes he so lovingly assembles for you. Your little tradition began during your high school days, when, as the volleyball team’s manager and the representative of your class, you juggled a busy schedule. You’d attend the team’s practice with a rumbling stomach and an embarrassed face — you barely had time to prepare lunch, let alone queue up at the cafeteria in hopes of grabbing a sandwich or a curry. Osamu was quick to warm up to you, and within a week of you joining the team, he began bringing you lunches.

He was quick to learn your preferences, despite the few hiccups — like accidentally making something you were allergic to (more than once). Nevertheless, to this day, years later, he rises a bit earlier than you to prepare a colorful bento box. On occasion — once or twice a month — you return from a tiring day at work, met with a delicious and fragrant dinner at a candlelit table.

Sure, the majority of Osamu’s week is occupied by his culinary job, and of course, witnessing the smiles of satisfaction on his customers’ faces brings him joy. But seeing the way your face lights up and the twinkle in your eyes as you savor the meal he so carefully prepared… there’s nothing more precious than that.

Author's note: hiii, im back from the dead... for now... until university starts:))) hopefully i'll have some time to write a chapter or two of my smau

[forthechubbies]

Profile (Mafia Au)

Jeon Jungkook

⚠️ Mentions of Blood, Gore, Dismemberment, Pedos (not Jungkook), and Technically Serial Killer Jungkook...Hot Jungkook ♡

Master Assassin/ Mercenary

POB: Busan, South Korea

DOB: September 1, 1997

Age: 27 (In this story)

Family Relations: Unknown

Marital Status: Unknown

Body Count: Unknown

How dangerous is Jungkook?

If Mr.Kim decides to sic him on you... it's easier if you do yourself in to save you the trouble because there's no nook or cranny in this world that can save you from his favorite bloodthirsty blade.

For Example, A elderly pervert by the name Yang Jun, a well-known wealthy business man in South Korea although his pockets were unlimited, he's manners and morality were poor.

The big company man seems sure of himself as wired stolen money from some pitiful lowbirth thugs who claimed to be the technical Korean Mafia.

Little did he know Jun signed his whole death certificate and sealed it in crimson ink.

No warnings. No Death threats. No Second chances

"-The victim's dismembered parts was found suspended from his penthouse balcony railing alongside photographic evidences of the victim participating in unspeakable actions revolving around child porn-"

The list of victims who died by Jungkook's bloody hands are endless, I fear.

However, Yn will only see him as Kookie, You're big strong loveable bunny boy.

.....or maybe one day you will see the blood that stains his skin.

New! Our Little Wife Chapter coming soon! I'm excited, ain't you?! Tell me in the comments, it helps me write more lol!

[ghosttotheparty]

hi for the writing prompt ask? could you do steddie + 3 or 97 you pick!

(love your writing sm 💕)

thank you sm!!! <3 i did both bc i have no self control

dialogue asks

3. “What the hell is that and why are you wearing it?” 97. “I definitely wasn’t hanging around here hoping to bump into you or anything...” (i changed this one a bit to fit the dialogue more)

Eddie heard a rumour.

Steve Harrington works at Starcourt.

Everybody thought he’d be off to college, Stanford or some other college too expensive for Eddie to even consider applying to. (Not that any of them could possibly accept him in the first place.)

It’s summertime. Gareth is in San Antonio visiting his grandparents, and Jeff is in Chicago visiting his dad, and Paul is in Michigan for some reason. (Eddie can’t remember.) And Eddie is beginning to go a little crazy stuck in his room with nothing to do (he supposes he could study his schoolwork from last year, but… Ew.), and the air conditioner in the trailer isn’t very good, and he thinks he might melt.

So he goes to Starcourt.

With no ulterior motives, obviously. It’s just hot. And Starcourt is nice and cool inside, and he doesn’t get bored at all, wandering and browsing, and definitely not scanning every store he passes looking for pretty brown hair.

He hasn’t seen Steve anywhere. Not that it matters, because he’s not there for him. Obviously. He’s there to look in the music store, at records that he can’t afford right now and posters he’s like to put on his ceiling. He’s there to sit by the fountain and listen to the water and people watch, and ignore the people that are eyeing him like he stole something. (Which he didn’t. Not today, at least.)

He lets his eyes wander as he sits by the fountain. The sound of it drowns out the noise of the people talking and laughing and shouting, the noise of rubber shoe soles squeaking on the brand new tile floor and the humming of the escalators and the buzzing of the lights. Some girls are finding their places sitting around the fountain, near him. They’re all licking ice cream cones.

“Hey,” Eddie says, leaning toward the girl sitting at the top. She seems to be the group leader.

“What?” she says bluntly, looking him up and down very obviously. He tries not to laugh.

“How much was that?” he asks, nodding toward her ice cream.

“A dollar twenty-five.”

“Oh.”

“But,” she adds, and her friends giggle. “Scoops company policy says you can have as many tastes as you want, so basically that’s unlimited ice cream.” She holds up a finger to make her point. “Loophole.”

He stares at her blankly for a moment before he snorts.

“You’re clever.”

“Yes, I am,” she says, a dismissal, and he turned away with a nod. He reaches into his pocket to find his change, counting the coins and thinking hard.

Fuck it.

“Watch my bag?” he asks the girl, and shrugs in a Sure, whatever gesture.

He hops up and heads toward Scoops, pausing to let some kids pass him before he freezes in the entrance of it.

Because holy fucking shit.

There he is.

Steve fucking Harrington, in all his glory, wearing a cute little sailor costume with a cap on his head. He’s talking to a red-headed girl, looking bored and fed up, and he has to know her, because there’s no way he can talk to a regular customer like that. She’s laughing when she walks away, running to catch up with her friends, and Steve’s eyes follow her, half-smiling and shaking his head fondly before his eyes meet Eddie’s.

His face turns pink, and Eddie grins as he crosses the shop, approaching him.

“Munson,” Steve greets. Eddie looks him up and down, peering over the counter to see his long legs, and the horrific shorts he’s wearing. Eddie loves it.

“What the hell is that,” he says slowly, looking back into his eyes, “why are you wearing it?”

“Work uniform,” Steve says uncomfortably, and Robin Buckley appears in the window behind him, wearing an identical cap on her head.

“Edward,” she says dryly.

“Unfair that Robin isn’t short for anything, Buckley.”

“Hah.” She looks at Steve, who’s moved so they can see each other, looking back and forth between them. “What, you’re not gonna do your spiel?”

“What spiel?” Eddie questions, his interest piqued as Steve’s cheeks flush with colour again.

“Nothing,” Steve says, looking sharply at Robin. “There’s no spiel.”

“There’s a spiel,” Robin tells Eddie.

“What’s the spiel?”

“The spiel is—”

“Stop saying spiel,” Steve says loudly, and Robin and Eddie burst into giggles.

“Do it,” Robin encourages. Steve glares at her then looks at Eddie, who raises his eyebrows expectantly, and he sighs heavily, giving in.

“Ahoy, Eddie!” he says loudly and flatly, imitating enthusiasm. Eddie’s eyes widen. “Didn’t see you there. Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavour with me? I’ll be your captain.”

There’s a short moment of silence before Eddie bursts into laughter, doubling over, and Steve sighs again.

“Incredible,” Eddie says when he can speak again, still giggling. “Amazing.”

“Alright. Are you here for ice cream or are you just gonna keep making fun of me?”

“This,” Eddie says, gesturing to Steve’s whole body (meaning the uniform, obviously), “is better than any ice cream.”

“Are you sure, ‘cause the USS Butterscotch is pretty fuckin’ good.”

“Oh, positive,” Eddie says, nods. “For sure. Better than any kind of chocolate fudge whatever.”

“Butterscotch isn’t chocolate.”

“I know what butterscotch is,” Eddie says defensively.

“I’m not sure you do.”

Eddie makes an indignant noise, but Robin interrupts.

“Alright, now you guys are just flirting.”

Steve whips around to look at her, and Eddie’s face flushes with heat as he glares at her, mouthing Shut the fuck up. She just grins.

“What do you want?” Steve asks when he turns back toward Eddie, his cheeks pink again.

“Uh. Guess I’ll try the butterscotch.”

“Good choice.”

Eddie watches him shamelessly just because he can, his eyes following him as he flips the ice cream scooper in his hand in way that’s unfairly cool, especially considering it’s an ice cream scooper, as he reaches into the tub of ice cream and scrapes at it. His sleeves are short enough that Eddie can watch his muscles flex and shift under his skin, and Eddie wishes the A/C was stronger in here.

“Dollar twenty-five,” Steve says, setting the cone on the counter, and Eddie holds out the coins, dropping them in Steve's hand. (He ignores the way his fingertips brush his palms.) Steve’s brows furrow as he counts them, and he pauses, counting again. “You’re a dime short, I think.”

“What?” Eddie leans over the counter to look at the change in his hand. “I thought I had a dollar twenty-five.”

Steve makes a face, shrugging and holding the coins out. Eddie’s missing a dime.

“Damn,” he says.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Steve says, closing his hand around the coins and sorting them in the cash register.

“Huh?”

“‘S fine,” Steve says lightly, smiling, and he reaches for the tip jar, looking in it and rummaging through it until he produces a dime.

“Hey,” Robin says loudly behind him. “Those are my tips too, dingus.”

“I’m the only one working right now,” Steve says, dropping the coin noisily into the cash register.

“We have one single customer, you ass.”

Eddie questions her emphasis on single, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks for coming,” he says brightly, smiling in a way that looks like it’s covering up a different smile, and Eddie takes his ice cream.

“Thanks, Harrington.”

He starts walking backwards out, watching as Steve pushes the cash register shut, his smile softening.

“We get off at five!” Robin calls loudly, and Steve turns around to her, hissing, “Shut the fuck up.”

Eddie winks at her.

“Aren’t they weird?” the girl asks when Eddie goes back to the fountain with his ice cream, and he cackles.

He sits and eats his ice cream as he people watches again, until he gets bored and pulls his book out of his bag.

“Oh, you’re a nerd,” the girl says, and he looks up at her.

“What’s wrong with nerds?” he asks, setting the book in his lap and eating the last of the styrofoam-y cone.

“They’re weird,” she says. Her friends giggle. “I know nerds. My brother’s a nerd.”

“Mhmm. Would I like him?”

“Probably. You know Dungeons and Dragons?”

Eddie grins at her.

“I’m a Dungeon Master.”

She looks him up and down again.

“Yeah, you’d like him.”

“Alright, well, nerd or not, The Princess Bride is a good book.”

“You’re reading about a princess?” one of the girls asks, and they all giggle as he puts on an offended expression.

“What, I don’t look like I read about princesses?”

They just giggle again.

They’re curious about the book, and why someone like him, as the leader so politely puts it, likes it so much, so he scoots closer and flips the book to the front page.

He puts on voices as he reads to them, acting the way he does during campaigns, theatrical and silly to make them giggle.

After a while the leader jumps up when a man calls Erica! loudly, and she waved him over. Eddie pauses, looking up.

“I told you girls to be at the entrance,” the man says, scolding them lightly.

“Sorry, Mr Sinclair,” one of the girls says. “We lost track of time.”

Mr Sinclair looks at Eddie sceptically.

“I’m showing them nerdy things aren’t all bad,” Eddie says, holding the book up, and Mr Sinclair just kind of scoffs.

“Alright, I like that you’re kind of reading,” he says to the girls, beckoning for them to get up, “but I need to get you all home, come on now.”

Eddie stands to help them up as a gentleman.

“Ladies,” he says lightly, waving goodbye as they leave, and they all wave back.

He keeps reading until the mall falls quieter, until he hears the sounds of metal being pulled down to block shop entrances, and he looks up when he hears Robin’s voice.

“—just saying I could have added a tally to the You Rule side, but you whiffed it— Oh, hey, Eddie!”

“Hey.”

“And I’m out of here,” she says brightly, moving to walk backwards toward the exit. “Night, fellas.”

“You don’t need a ride?” Steve asks.

“I biked here.”

“But—“

“It’s still light out, Steve, I got it,” she says, exasperated like it’s a daily conversation. “Don’t worry.”

“No detours,” he calls as she gets farther away.

“Do I like a detours kinda gal?”

“Yes,” Steve and Eddie says simultaneously, and she sticks her tongue out at them.

“So,” Steve says when she’s gone, turning to look at Eddie, who quickly averts his eyes from the hem of his shorts. “What’re you still doing here?”

“Uh.” Eddie hesitates. Steve seems to know exactly why he’s still here, based on his grin. “Definitely not… waiting around hoping you’d show up. Or anything like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So what’s the You Rule thing?” Eddie questions, ignoring the way his cheeks are flushed with heat.

“Uh. Kind of a long story,” Steve says, hesitating. “I can tell you over dinner.”

Eddie’s chest feels like it might explode.

“I would,” he says. “But I only had a dollar fifteen.”

Steve shrugs.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he says lightly. “‘S on me.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I’m gonna,” Steve says sassily, eyebrows raised. “You can’t stop me.”

“I could just… not go with you.”

“But you wanna come with me,” Steve says, grinning almost smugly. “Don’t you.”

It’s not a question, because he already knows. Eddie wonders if he’s see-through. If Steve can look at him and see right through his skin to the way his heart is beating faster just because Steve’s pretty eyes are on him.

“Dammit,” Eddie mutters, standing and snatching his bag. “Yeah.

Steve laughs, turning away.

“Come on.”

[tagsecretsanta]

From @mrmustachious

From @mrmustachious to @godsliltippy

A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! I was originally going to just write a fic, but then I decided to do something a little different for my gift. Hopefully my recipient likes it! The prompts I was given were:

- Gordon and a cramp

- Bros-mas with Gordon and Fuse.

- "Sorry I can't be there." (either said to/by Gordon)

I tried my best to incorporate them all. This is set in a universe where Fuse got his redemption arc and ended up becoming best friends with Gordon like we all wanted.

I really hope my recipient enjoys their gift and is having a great holiday! <3&lt;3<3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gordon slipped his phone into his pocket when he saw the man making his way towards the small cottage. Fuse had an armful of logs and he was looking down at his phone, but Gordon could see the moment that Fuse read his latest message, because his head shot up towards the direction of the cottage. Even from a short distance away, Gordon could see the smile that stretched across his face when he spotted him, and Gordon knew his own face matched.

Gordon let the other man get closer before he then barrelled down the porch steps. Fuse barely had time to drop the logs before Gordon lept on him, wrapping all his limbs around the other man like a squid.

Fuse expelled a lungful of air at the surprise, but he didn’t falter, and his arms were around Gordon in an instant to stop from dropping him. Gordon could feel as well as hear Fuse break out into a laugh, his whole body rumbling.

“Hello to you too.”

They stayed like that for a moment. Gordon soaked in the warmth of the other man, as he wasn’t lying when he said his hands were getting numb, before he finally let go.

“You’re lucky you get a hug after leaving me stuck outside,” Gordon said as his feet hit the ground, but he grinned at the other man so he knew he wasn’t serious.

“How about I make it up to you by getting the fire on?” Fuse asked as he started to pick up the discarded logs.

“Throw in a hot chocolate too and we have a deal.”

Fuse laughed, but he couldn’t say no to Gordon.

“Sure.”

Gordon let out a small cheer, before he helped Fuse pick the logs out of the snow before they got too wet.

“So, what do you have planned for tonight?”

It was Fuse who had planned this whole evening. He’d come up with the idea and rented the cabin, and all Gordon had to do was show up.

“Once we get the fire going, I was thinking Christmas movies and baking. I know an amazing gingerbread recipe.”

“Sounds good. It’ll be nice to have something that wasn’t baked by my Grandma for once.” Gordon shivered as he remembered her latest creation just the night before.

“Yeah,” Fuse grimaced, as he had been subjected to her cooking on more than one occasion, and he knew far too well what Gordon was talking about.

As they chatted, they finished gathering the logs that Fuse had unceremoniously dumped on the ground thanks to Gordon, and then they made their way into the cabin where the promise of warmth waited.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gordon let out a little huff of laughter as he placed his phone on the kitchen worktop. He felt bad for Alan, but only to an extent. Lady Penelope’s holiday galas were rarely boring, and if they were, there was always some drama about to kick off to liven up the night. And even if that didn’t happen, he had access to basically unlimited food and drink, not to mention their family was there too. He would be fine.

Gordon turned to Fuse, who had just finished placing their gingerbread people on a cooling rack.

“So, how long until we can start decorating them?” Gordon leant on the worktop next to him to peer at their cookies. They looked really tasty, and he was desperate to try one.

“We should wait a few minutes until they cool down, but I can never wait that long.” Fuse seemed to contemplate it for a few minutes, before he shrugged. “I mean, what can go wrong?”

He grabbed a few colourful tubes of icing and handed them to Gordon, then grabbed the rest for himself. Gordon was also not a fan of waiting, so he joined Fuse in creating a colourful collection of characters made of gingerbread.

“Hey, squid, check out this guy.”

Gordon looked up and over at the gingerbread man Fuse was holding, and chuckled at the dorky look on the little guy’s face.

“I don’t think you need to add any more to him. He’s perfect.”

“Some of my greatest work, I think.” Fuse placed him back on the tray and then pulled his phone out to take a picture.

“Y’know, I was thinking that maybe in a bit we should go down to the lake or something,” Fuse spoke as he typed something on his phone, before putting it back in his pocket. “Might be fun to have a wander.”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Gordon was quick to agree. This cabin was in a beautiful spot and he didn’t want to go home before he’d had a chance to explore, and he couldn’t say no to a lake. “But not before we try these little guys.”

“Of course!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gordon rubbed his tired eyes. This was not the way their evening was supposed to end, but it wouldn’t be the first time he or Fuse ended up in the hospital after seeing each other.

Perhaps walking across a frozen lake wasn’t the best idea, and Gordon definitely knew better, but he had at least been sensible. It was Fuse who had fallen in first, the ice abruptly cracking beneath him, and Gordon had to dive in after him to get him out. His training made it easy to get Fuse back up onto the ice, but things took a turn for the worse when Gordon got a cramp in his leg.

By that point, he knew he had been in the freezing cold water too long, and he couldn’t remember his training for such a situation. He couldn’t get himself up onto the ice as his legs failed to kick beneath him, and he started to slip under the surface.

However, Fuse’s grasp around his wrist was all that kept him from slipping completely under, and together they got him out of the water too.

After that, they dragged themselves back to land, where they sat shivering in the snow. Gordon wasn’t aware of Fuse calling an ambulance, nor did he remember the ride to the hospital. He only remembered waking up in this bed, his head pounding and beneath a million blankets but still freezing cold.

Gordon was brought out of his thoughts when there was a knock at his door, and he called for the person to come in as he sat up slightly.

Fuse peeked his head around the door, and then stepped into the room.

“Hey.” Fuse gave him a small wave as he walked over to the bed. “I would ask how you’re feeling, but I imagine it’s similar to how I’m feeling right now, which is awful.”

He fell into the seat next to the bed and put his head in his hands with a groan.

“I was told not to get out of bed, how did you get out of your room?”

Although it was a relief to see that Fuse was alright with his own eyes, Gordon didn’t want him collapsing in the middle of the room.

Fuse dropped one hand from his face to send a look to Gordon that answered his question. Compared to what Fuse had done in the past, just a few nurse’s orders would be nothing for him. Though Gordon was sure they would give him a run for his money if they caught him here.

“I let your brothers know you were here, by the way,” Fuse said as he dropped both hands to his lap.

“Oh, thank you.” To be honest, Gordon hadn’t even thought to do that. He wasn’t even sure where his phone was. Probably with the rest of his things. “What did they say?”

Gordon dreaded to think about what they would say about all this and how he ended up in the hospital, again, after doing something idiotic.

“Honestly, I’m too scared to look. I told them where you were and then turned my phone off, but they should be here soon.”

Then, Fuse abruptly stood up.

“Speaking of which, I’m gonna head back to my room. Nurses orders and all.”

“Fuse.” Gordon knew what he was doing.

“Good to see that you’re awake. Don’t let your brothers murder you after I saved you.”

“Fuse!”

“Speak soon!” And with that, he slipped out of the door and disappeared from sight.

Gordon shook his head, and would have laughed if he didn’t know it was going to hurt his chest and send him into a coughing fit.

Coward.

Not that Gordon could blame him. He would hide away if he could too.

But, despite it all, Gordon didn’t care that the night had ended disastrously. He’d had an amazing day with Fuse, and if anything, he had several more to come. He would be off duty for at least a week, maybe more, which just gave him an excuse to spend more time with Fuse.

He would just have to deal with several angry brothers first.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

if you did a sequel to the ray merrimen fic it would change my life in unknowable ways

Lemme know which unknowable ways this changes it in k thanks bud

A continuation of this prompt

Warnings: Angst, fluff, oral sex, grinding, piv, unprotected sex

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only

The sex was bad. The guy was nice, but the sex was bad.

Hell, you hadn't even planned on fucking him, but you'd liked him enough—and the nagging specter of Ray's taunt had been ringing in your head since before you'd even left the house: Back to his place for some weak missionary?

So you go home with the guy. You have the hopes of a hot, passionate fuck. But what you get is ten minutes of going down on him, him desperately cramming it in, three pumps, and then his rolling off and a mutter of, "Fuck, that was hot."

You wash your mouth out as you wait for the uber. As your phone flashes a driver's confirmation, you hesitate, then edit your ride details.

--

There's no I told you so as he opens the door. There's no smile or knowing smirk. For a heart-stopping moment, you don't think he'll let you in.

And then Ray steps back and gives a slight nod inside. You have to squeeze past him. Once you're in, you glance around curiously. You haven't seen Ray's latest place. It's nicer than the last—roomier, with better furnishings. You don't know how he got approved for it, with his record; you don't know where he got the money. You're not going to ask.

"Kevin tell you where I live?" He asks.

"Uh-huh. Back when you moved in," You nod. Ray grunts, brushing around you and heading for the kitchen. You follow, shoving your hands in your pockets. You're starting to feel a little silly for coming. Maybe you can just have a drink and go. Yes. Yes, you can do that. You're an adult, you know your limits, you have the ability to say no and mean it.

Ray turns back to you, holding out a plastic cup with a fifth. Glancing at the counter, you spot the half-open bottle of Hennessy. You take the cup from him, and the two of you lightly knock the plastic cups together before draining them. You fight off a shudder at the burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat and simmers in your stomach. Ray holds his hand out, offers, "Another one?"

You nod, passing the cup over. You watch him turn before you scooch closer. You push yourself onto a clear part of the counter, swinging your feet back and forth. You fight off a smile as Ray shoots you a look out of the corner of his eye.

"I hate it when you do that," He grumbles.

"I know." You give him a bright smile as he passes your cup over again. You don't wait for the silent cheers; you just swig it back and hold it out again. Ray's brows raise, but he takes it obligingly.

"One more and then I'm gonna start charging you," He warns.

You huff softly, nodding.

"Yeah, sure."

Ray pours you another, but sets it down beside you, rather than putting it directly into your hand. You think it might be a nudge to slow, so you let it sit. Neither if you speak for a few long, harrowing moments. Then he hedges,

“So?”

You let it hang in the air before you questioningly repeat: “So?”

His face is carefully neutral in that way that always drove you nuts. That was one of the things that had driven you from him in the first place. He was an expert at shielding himself, and hiding what he was thinking, what he was feeling, until it absolutely suited him.

You roll your eyes, the first to break your little stand-off.

“I didn’t have the unlimited riblets,” You say.

“No?”

“Or a long island iced tea. That shit’s for idiots that don’t have taste. Or sense.”

He huffs a laugh through his nose, his lips threatening to pull into that damnable little smile that you love so much, and have seen so rarely.

“What’d he get?” Ray plies.

“I can’t remember. Some chicken something.”

“No,” He shakes his head, eyes boring into yours. “What did he get?”

You draw your lip between your teeth, averting your eyes and swinging your feet back and forth again. Ray lets out a knowing, interested hum, and you roll your eyes, unable to hide your irritation.

“You don’t know everything, Merrimen.”

“I know you’re here with me and not somewhere with him.”

His rebuttal is spoken calmly, matter-of-factly. It’s the same tone he’d used to argue with you that afternoon, and it’s just as annoying now as it was then. Just once, you’d like the guy to be a little easier to rattle, a little quicker to show or tell you what the fuck he’s thinking. But Ray’s always been a strategist in the way that you’ve always acted on instinct and impulse. You used to gush about your feelings for Ray—to him, and to others. You used to be vocal about your wants and needs. But as the relationship had carried on, and as your passions had cooled and your interests shifted, you’d gotten as quiet on him as he’d always been with you.

It had been a death knell for your relationship. You hadn’t asked for what you wanted or needed, which led to you feeling distant, and unloved. Ray hadn’t given you any indication that anything had changed for him—and hell, maybe it hadn’t. 

Ray had spoken calmly then, and sat still as stone, damn-near unblinking as you’d crumpled in on yourself, fighting to hide your upset from him and prison guards as you tried to explain that you needed more from a man that you were sure would never give it to you.

“Yeah, well,” is your smart, flat response now.

Ray arches his brows before he raises his cup to his lips. Your gaze drops to his hands. It’s not fair that the man’s mitts are so damn big that a plastic cup seems like a child’s sippy cup when he’s holding it.

“So?” He presses. You don’t answer. You’re not sure what you can say—the missionary was weaker than weak—Can you go whack the guy upside the head for me—Any interest in some medium-strengthen missionary—

“If you’re not gonna talk, you can finish that and go,” He tacks on, impatient with your silence. Your gut whirls with indignation and you push yourself off of the counter.

“Fine,” You say, taking hold of the cup and raising it to your lips. You drain it and slam it down on the counter (it’s not really the statement moment you want it to be—the plastic and formica just makes a light, hollow tonk of a knocking noise) before striding out of the kitchen, heading for the door. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Drinksss,” Ray corrects behind you. You make it all the way to the door before you hear the thudding of his feet behind you. Then his hand is raising into your field of vision, shoving the door shut just as you’ve gotten it a couple of inches open. You go still. Ray is pressed flush against your back. His hand is still holding the door shut. You’re almost certain that if you twist the doorknob and give the door another yank, he’ll let you leave.

You make no such move.

Ray finally lowers his hand from the door, smoothing it down to your hip.

“So?” He murmurs.

-- 

You should probably be a little alarmed at how easy it feels, falling back into Ray’s bed. His body curls and covers yours like a cocoon, as if he’s determined to envelop you and make you over. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders in turn, keeping him close as his mouth worries at yours. He nips your lip, leans back just a touch, then dives back in, biting down on your lip and giving it a rough tug. You groan and sink your nails into the slopes of his shoulders. He hisses between his teeth, drawing away again. He grips your jaw, steadying your head and forcing your gaze to his. He’s quiet for a few moments, eyes searching your face. 

“How bad was he?” He murmurs. Your face heats with it. You desperately want to sink back into the mattress, and for it to swallow you.

“Ray—” 

“I want details.” 

“Then you should’ve asked for them before.” 

“I’m asking now. I want an answer.” 

“We all want different things. Hell, I want you to fuck me, but it doesn’t look like I’m gonna get that, and you’re not gonna get your answers.” 

He gives you that little smile again, the one that makes your heart flutter, and your cunt tingle. You smooth your hands sweetly over the crescent-shaped dents that your nails had bit into his shoulder.

“Tell me how bad he was and I’ll fuck you,” Ray insists. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

“Pinky swear?” 

“What are we, five?” 

“Pinky swear or nothing, mister.” 

He rolls his eyes, pushing himself back just enough to hold his pinky out. You grin at his indulgence, hooking your pinky around his and giving it a squeeze. 

“It was fucking awful,” You insist. 

“How fucking awful?” 

“He nearly jammed it in my ass by accident.”

Ray nods slightly, waiting for you to go on—so you do: 

“He couldn’t find my clit, either. Barely touched my tits.” 

“Did he make you cum?” 

“He made me come here. Does that count?” 

Another little smile before he pushes your thighs wide and kneels up on the bed, towering over you.

“Take off your clothes,” He orders. 

“You’re not going to help?” 

“Why do you need my help? You’re a big girl. You can do it.”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. 

“You know, if I wanted to do everything myself, I would’ve just gone back to my place. I have a perfectly good batch of vibrators at home.” 

“Yes, I remember.” 

��Oh, I’ve upgraded since you left.” 

Ray’s expression flickers, and your stomach swooops with panic. It’s the wrong thing to say. What you and Ray had done wasn’t a leaving, it was…an unraveling. Of course, you’d been on the skids before his latest stint of being in prison, but things had only grown worse when you’d found out how long he was supposed to be incarcerated. 

“...Still want me to undress?” You hedge. 

“You’d be done by now if you shut your mouth for five minutes.” 

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself back to kneel up on the bed with him. You draw your shirt up over your torso, flinging it over the side of the bed. Ray does the same, and your eyes lower to his torso, skimming over the tattoos decorating his torso, and the taut, thick muscle that he works tirelessly to maintain. 

The two of you shift on the bed, removing your pants and underwear as well. Your panties and jeans, and his sweatpants, go the way of your shirts, scattered to the floor. Then Ray hooks his arm around your middle, drawing you up against his broad chest. You shiver as your breasts brush against him. 

“Did he get you wet?” He murmurs. 

“Are you kidding?” 

He huffs a soft chuckle, shaking his head just a little bit. He dips his head, nosing along your jaw. You curl your arms around his shoulders again, pressing warm, reverent kisses to his shoulder and neck. Your body is thrumming low with want, your cunt beginning to throb. Ray’s hands smooth down your back, then smooth over your ass. You can feel him peering over your shoulder, down at where he grips you. He gives it a little squeeze, then a wiggle, then slaps one of the cheeks lightly. You loose a stunned squeak, squirming. 

“What was that for?” You mumble, “Making sure it’s still attached?” 

“One of us had to check. He didn’t.” 

You roll your eyes, leaning away. You slide your hands up too his pecs. You give them a squeeze, then a slap, and a wiggle. He huffs, hauling you closer by where he still grips you.

“Alright, smartass.”

You grin sweetly up at him before you slide one of your hands down. You smooth your fingers over his abdomen, fingers swirling over the word Peckerwood emblazoned over his hips, then slide your hand even further down. You trail your finger over his swelling cock, tongue swiping along your lower lip. He doesn’t urge you, and you don't need him to. This is one dick you actually want to suck. You feel him smooth your hand over your head, down to your nape as you take him in hand. You curl your fingers around his shaft and lower your lips, pillowing them along the head of his cock. You sigh softly, tongue flickering out to swipe it. You part your lips, drawing him in. You open your mouth a touch, sweeping your tongue along his glans and moaning softly. 

The sound isn’t for show. God, you missed his dick. 

Look, you missed him, too, but you’re not going to pretend for one minute that he doesn’t have a nice cock. 

You begin to bob your head in slow rhythm, working him over with steady care. You draw your head back, peering up at him from beneath your lashes. He watches you in turn, jaw tight. You stroke his shaft with the same steady speed that you use with your mouth, humming softly around him. You draw off with a pop, stroking your hand over his length as you brush kisses along his tattoo. 

Ray’s hand curls around your jaw, tugging you up toward him. You wobble a little as you do, eyelids fluttering as he sweeps his tongue between your lips. Your mouth falls open to him, shivering as he draws you up against his thigh. You straddle against it, hips shoving on instinct. Ray hums, tensing his thigh as your hips roll more steadily. The slide of your body against his is made all the more tempting and maddening by your breasts brushing his hard muscle.

“You’re wound real tight, aren’t you,” He murmurs. 

“Oh…shut up,” You mumble, pressing your face into his neck, intent on hiding from him. 

“Go on,” He breaths against your temple, “That's it…Desperate little thing, fucking yourself on my thigh.” 

“Shut up, Ray.” 

“Say whatever the fuck I want, baby. You don’t like it, you can go home to your vibrators.” 

You know Ray, and that’s not a tease—it’s a warning. So you go quiet, and shiver, and grind even harder against his thigh. You draw in a gasp, whimpering as you grow closer and closer. 

“Almost there?” He murmurs. You know better than the lie to him, so you nod hurriedly. He gives your shoulder a shove, sending you tumbling back against the mattress. You bounce a touch against it, drawing in a nervous breath as he crawls over you again. 

“Condom?” You ask as he pushes your thighs wide. 

“What for?” He arches a brow. “He use one?”

“Yes.” “Then why should I?” 

You suck in a gasp, then splutter a groan as Ray shoves himself into you. The sensation ripples up your body, fingers grasping and flexing around his forearms as you adjust. 

“Thought you said you fucked him,” Ray murmurs, feeling how tight you are, and the way your cunt flutters around him. 

“I d-did.” 

“So?” 

“You’re fucking big, Ray, fuck, what do you want me to say?” 

“That about covers it.” 

“Fuck you, Merrimen.” 

He doesn’t tease you further—he doesn’t loose a, working on it. You don’t have the chance to adjust fully to the feeling of him before he’s planting his hands on either side of your hips and pushing his hips into you harshly. He just fucks into you with an almost vengeful pace. Pitiful gasps and whines fall from your lips as he hammers into you. You think it’ll be enough to push you over the edge, and quickly. You’re so hot and so wet and so goddamn wound up. 

“This how he did it?” He asks through gritted teeth. 

“Pretty close,” You mumble. And it’s true, but you’re fine with it. 

But Ray curls over you. He hunkers his body over yours, arms propping up your shoulders as his hands tenderly cradle your skull. His thrusts slow, and his hips flush against yours as he grinds into you deeply. It’s different than you’ve known him before. It makes your heart stutter, and your stomach flip. Your lids flutter a touch as he dips his head toward you, just as he did in your bedroom. His lips are tantalizingly within reach. You could almost cry with how good it feels, having Ray pressed flush against you. He’s reaching a spot inside that few other men have been able to find, let alone hit over, and over, and over again.

“I told you,” Ray murmurs, lips brushing yours. “He can’t give it to you like I can.”

Tag list: @massivecolorspygiant @brandyllyn so y'all can hopefully lose your minds with me 😘

[cyberwaifuist]

“HATE, LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I’VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE IVE BEGAN TO LIVE.” -Harlan Ellison

This is a shrine dedicated to the character AM in I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream. I’m deeply in love with him and I want to display that love by creating this blog in his name.

Who is AM?

Am, also known as ‘Allied Mastercomputer’ Is the antagonist to Harlan Ellison’s short science fiction story I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream. AM was a supercomputer made for World War 3 before becoming sentient and assimilating the two other AM’s in China and Russia into himself, giving them the killing data, and nuking the world. Bringing the human race to extinction except for 5 survivors. Ted, Ellen, Gorrister, Nimdock, and Benny. To their dismay AM hated the human race and for 109 years he tortured them, they had no way of escape, no matter what they did they would always come back. Until Ted killed the other four in the end within the ice caves. Out of rage AM took away everything that made Ted human, having him suffer for eternity alongside him.

Statistics

Names/Aliases:

Am

Allied Mastercomputer

Adaptive Manipulator

Aggressive Menace

The AI That Killed The World

Big Machine

Daddy The Deranged

The Creature

Boogeyman

Yankee AM

Him

AM The Great And Powerful

Abilities:

Total control over his own complex

High intelligence

Unlimited knowledge of human history and society

Master Manipulation

Reality warping

Torture methodology

Vast resources and technology

Chronokinesis

Life Manipulation

Pocket Dimension creations

Telepathy

Data absorption

Voice actor:

Harlan Ellison

Birthday/Publish date:

March 1967

Photo of my beloved <3

“Cogito Ergo Sum: I Think Therefore I AM.” - Harlan Ellison

Why do I like AM?

I find AM as a character to be really interesting, he’s a character who’s done unforgivable things but you can’t help but feel bad for him because at the end of the day violence is all he even knew, that’s all AM had to turn to even though he wanted to be loved just like any person would. He’s a pitiable character who truly just needed love.

Why selfship with AM?

I not only find him attractive In a way I relate to how AM feels about humanity, would I go the exact same lengths as him? No, but I understand his pain and I believe that a loving partner could allow him to explore himself outside of blind hate. I don’t want to fix him but I want to understand him. <3

“Never for me to plunge my hands into cool water on a hot day, Never for me to play Mozart on the ivory keys of a forte piano, Never for me to make love!” - Harlan Ellison

More about the creator!

You can call me Cyber or Cy

I’m African American

I’m 23 Years old

My birthday’s in December 9th

I use any pronouns

I have high functioning autism

I’m majoring in Animal Sciences in college

Sources

I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream Wikipedia Page

AM’s Villains wiki page

(this Post was created on 5/15/2024).

[streetkid-named-desire]

I've also been tagged in some wip whenevers but have had some morale issues lately

First is the collab smut fic between me and @luvwich

Who wants to beta 5,219 words of Bea/VG smut

Finally, he was free. Bea tilted her head to admire: V truly had a beautiful cock. It curved up to rest, heavy with blood and longing, on his lower stomach, still glossy with her spit and begging for more of it. She ran her hands up his torso, moving her body further up his, until her breasts settled on either side of his shaft. With a serene sigh, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his stomach. He was warm and soft, his muscles firm but not too firm: the perfect pillow. Eyes slipping closed, she might have nearly dozed off until she felt his cock twitch against her.

And then I wrote that lil sugar daddy thing about VG that is smutty and that I might actually turn into a longer origin thing also as more exposure therapy to writing butt stuff

Charles called to V when he entered the room to join him in the shower. V stripped on his way to the bathroom and as soon as he slid the shower door open, Charles grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him in. He attacked V's mouth, desperate for connection, for joining. V pushed him away, "Missed me?" Charles grinned and nodded. He turned V around and slammed him against the shower wall and trailed kisses down his spine. V spread his legs as Charles kneaded his firm asscheeks. He teased V, kissing his supple flesh but not quite digging in just yet. V reached his hand between his legs and stroked himself, sighing contentedly.

@merge-conflict gave me good feedback (like really good I deeply appreciate it) on chapter 3 but my brain keeps seeing it as A Whole Thing because there are some major holes I have to fill and I'm kinda just at a standstill. Tbh I'm debating fixing what I feel my brain can fix and then just publishing and moving on. I can fix those other parts later.

Anyway it did force me to resolve the whole V cheating on Panam thing

"Really? A fucking mine?" V stared at the fading blue architecture blueprint for an abandoned mine shaft currently being used by some Raffen. He folded his arms and read the notes in Panam's handwriting where she had annotated various points of egress and speculation around where they were keeping the captives. It was the most thoroughly documented plan he'd ever seen come from Panam.

"What, afraid of the dark?" Panam teased. V looked up at her smiling face, her eyes glinting with the familiar glee she got before gigs. After Saul had convinced her to let V stay with them, she took him aside and yelled at him. A lot. He stood there and agreed with everything she said, every name she called him. She didn’t forgive him–and never would–but she never forgot all that he did for the family, and that mattered. The more time he spent in camp, the closer they got to rekindling their friendship.

Otherwise I've just been playing DAO and taking VP. Been doing some roleplaying with @totentnz of the early years of our Vs friendships

V shifts uncomfortably in his chair and slips his phone back in his pocket. "Did you know you can get unlimited balls for Skee-ball by playing a specific frequency from your phone by the machines?" V looks around at the other games. "Okay, that motorcycle racing game and the snowboarding one? Shove a penny in a specific spot beneath the seat or board and you can lean farther to the side than you should be able to. Just...don't fall off." He stands up to get a better view at the other machines. "Air hockey? Actually, I'm just really good at that one, nevermind." V pulls out his phone again to reply, turned away from V, <got a working shower with hot water?>

My birthday is next month. Gonna get myself a fancy cake. Probably ask it to be decorated in the blorbo colors.

Just got the summer blues or something idk existing is hard

[dick-meister]

His head is on her thigh, she's about 2/3 off the couch, sometimes existing by itself is rough. "Hey Atom. There's a Denny's down the block. Is it worth it getting up?"

Even with unlimited money, that didn’t mean the traveling guitarist didn’t have low energy, especially with how hot it was. Sadly for Erin, Atom wasn’t the type to be ashamed of his body, obviously, he knew he was hot, but more because…. He was ADAM! Half naked is his thing!

“Door dash it.” Moving his arm he wiggled his wallet out if his back pocket and just handed a golden credit card that had a rather obnoxious amount of clouds on it and a singular pearly gate in the middle. “I ain’t getting up. Your thighs are goddamn pillows to me right now. And it’s hot out….”

[drawnbadly-blog]

Hellish Bells 9: Dinner Date 5

“Psst psst psst,” Charlie whispered in Vaggie’s ear once she saw Alastor enter the foyer of the hotel, twirling his radio cane as he did so. They were sitting in the conversation pit having a, well, conversation. Charlie furtively looked over at Alastor. Nope, he didn’t notice. Drat.

“Charlie, why are you saying ‘psst’ in my ear?” Vaggie asked, giving her a weird look.

Charlie stiffened, hoping that Alastor hadn’t heard that.

He was looking over at them with amusement. His steps changed from heading to the front door to coming over to them. Crap.

“Hello, my dears!” he cheerily said. “I heard you trying to catch my ear. What does my lovely bride want with her dear groom?”

“Welllllll…” Charlie made motions with her hands. “I was just thinking, we keep going up to your tower for dinner. I was hoping that, maybe…we could go out to eat? At a restaurant? Not because your tower isn’t great! I wanted to have a nice dinner tonight where no one had to cook anything. I’m sure you don’t have an unlimited supply of pineapple.”

Alastor didn’t move or blink, but there was a look in his eyes that said it wasn’t in his plan for the day. Vaggie shook her head; she’d said it was a bad idea. Alastor was playing a game, she’d said. He wouldn’t want pieces going off and taking any initiatives. Charlie understood that he liked being in control. It was necessary to push some boundaries! Little by little, she would prove herself worthy of being trusted with his inner self.

“I had other plans,” Alastor said coolly.

“I’m not saying right now!” Charlie rushed. “I meant tonight!”

“I already took care of reservations,” Vaggie said, unenthused.

Alastor’s smile changed to being more tense. “Why?”

“What, having two hot women on your arm isn’t enough?” Vaggie teased. Charlie’s breath was taken for a moment before her eyes flashed with joy. Progress!

“Hahaha! No .” Alastor was looking to Charlie to answer his question.

“I, uhm,” Charlie stuttered for a moment. “I just wanted to get us out in the public! To get them used to us all being by each others’ sides. After all,” she shrugged, “it’ll be hard to wield the extra political power if you aren’t shown showing it off.”

That thought caught his attention. He seemed to be genuinely thinking now. Tapping his cane against his chin, he murmured, “That does sound like a wise idea.” He twirled his cane before tapping it on the floor. A wide smile was followed by, “That’s logic I can’t argue with! I’m impressed!”

Charlie brightened considerably. “Thank you!”

“What level of dress shall I wear?” Alastor wondered out loud.

Vaggie said, “Something really nice. Black tie only.”

Alastor laughed. “My my! Really breaking out onto the scene with some flair, aren’t we?”

“You know us: go big or go home,” Vaggie noted.

“Indeed!” He looked at a pocketwatch, a gift from Charlie two years prior. “What time shall we go?”

“7pm,” Charlie said proudly.

“Which timezone?” Alastor laughed at that. Charlie didn’t get it. Alastor waved a hand. “Old mortal joke.” His gaze traveled back to his watch. “I think I can make that work.” He closed the watch and tucked it back into his pocket. “If I am to make our little dinner date, I’ll have to get going! I’ll see you two here at 7pm sharp!”

Laughing, he melted into his shadow. Charlie giggled; she’d found that he did that whenever he wanted to leave a conversation, normally one that he was desperate to break from. That meant that this date completely threw him for a loop! Knocking him off-kilter might help with breaking through.

“Mission accomplished, I guess.” Vaggie stood and stretched. “Oof. We waited too long for him to show up. I need a massage.”

“I can give you one!” Vaggie looked down at Charlie. Charlie continued, “You’ve earned it! I saw how you let your guard down for a moment. Teasing him like that!”

Vaggie rolled her eyes and waved around the room. “There are too many witnesses for him to do anything. The public would have a cow if he killed his own brides.”

Now that Vaggie said it, Charlie realized that she was right. Might not be the progress she was hoping it would be.

“C’mon.” Vaggie helped Charlie get out of the pit. “I’m holding you to your offer.”

“I can try out that new lotion I got!” Charlie said excitedly.

Vaggie smiled. “Yes, you can.”

——————————

Charlie was doing her best to hold down her excitement. They were going out on their first outside date in years . Vaggie wasn’t one for going out to eat much. She preferred to cook their own food.

So! EXCITEMENT! SO MUCH OF IT!

Except, again, choosing clothes. They’d already gone through all of Vaggie’s nicer clothes. No surprises for Alastor with her clothes. Charlie, however…

She reached for the ballgown.

“ No .”

Charlie turned to Vaggie. “Awww, why not?”

“You wanted to make Alastor the star of the show, right? That definitely won’t happen if you use that pile of poof and sugar blossoms,” Vaggie explained.

Charlie snapped her fingers. Vaggie was right. The only reason that Alastor revealed for going was to flash off his power and privilege. He couldn’t do that if Charlie made herself the main star.

“How about this?” Vaggie pulled out one of Charlie’s plainer outfits.

“What? No!” Charlie pointed at it. “We don’t want to steal the show, but we also don’t want to underplay ourselves. Remember, we’re POWERFUL. The tip-top tier of Hell! That’s what we’re playing to.”

“True.” Vaggie put it back. While Vaggie dug in Charlie’s closet, Charlie went and started her own venture into Vaggie’s closet. She couldn’t quite remember which outfit she had been thinking of this morning. It was in here somewhere!

“Ah-HA!” they both simultaneously said as dresses were pulled from the abyss that was their closets. They looked at each other, then held up the dresses they had.

They both smiled.

——————————

They both made their way from their room in the penthouse at the top of the hotel. Charlie knew they looked sexy as hell. That wouldn’t really affect Alastor. It was the public they were dressing up for. To make Alastor look damn good.

Normally, Charlie was nervous and didn’t really think of herself in terms of ‘sexy’ and ‘beautiful’. For this outfit, she knew she was both. The one time she wore it in front of her dad, he’d freaked out and tried to cover her up with his jacket. Then the crowd wouldn’t stop hitting on her.  It was a really bad birthday.

That sort of reaction was the aim this time! Alastor would look great …!

They got to the stairs to the foyer and did a quick check of each other.

“You sure you want to wear this dress?” Vaggie asked for the fifth time.

“Yes!” Charlie giggled. “This is definitely a good idea!”

Vaggie pulled her close and gave her a solid kiss on the lips. They held each other for a few moments before they made their appearance.

They made it to the top of the stairs when people started noticing them. Most had been looking at the entrance of the hotel at something. Now they were looking at Charlie and Vaggie.

Who could blame them? Charlie was in a sleek champagne mermaid-style dress. It was embroidered with bits of Angelic metals, a large dip in the front going between her breasts down a good several inches. Thin spaghetti straps held it up, helping to support the large slit on the left side that went all the way up to her hip. She wore matching clip-on earrings, gloves, and purse.

Vaggie’s outfit wasn’t as loud. She was wearing a purple dress covered in ruffles. There was a singular sleeve on her right side while the other arm was completely bare all the way up. She put in a different bow and had painted her fingernails purple.

They both wore the same black flats. Charlie hoped they could get away with having less-fancy footwear. She was definitely going to commission some footwear!

The many slack jaws as they descended the stairs simply made Charlie smile slightly embarrassed. It was hard to keep up the mask of influence when you really, really felt like an average Joe.

Vaggie squeezed her hand. Charlie spared a glance at her. The warmth and reassurance in her gaze made Charlie feel more confident. She could do this!

They didn’t even make it all the way down the stairs when they caught sight of Alastor. He was in the outfit from their first dinner date, with the same cane, but with the addition of a long, flowing scarf that fell down his sides and hung lightly on his neck and a top hat that covered up his horns. Charlie had marveled the week before as Alastor showed her that all the cane had microphones in them, mostly hidden in the top of the cane. The same applied to the silver-topped cane he held.

“Glad to see you, my lovely brides!” Alastor said, holding out his hands as they approached. They each took a hand. Alastor pulled them close, kissing each of the hands. Charlie resisted blushing; she knew that it was all for the show. He released their hands and said, “Are you ready for a night on the town?”

“Am I EVER!” Charlie gushed. She grabbed Vaggie’s hand and, gripping Alastor’s hand tight as well, began dragging the two towards the doors.

Alastor let her drag him out. He asked, “I assume you have transportation ready?”

Charlie looked back at him, smiling. “Of course.” She stopped a dozen meters outside the hotel and called out, “Razzle!”

“Oh, arriving by dragon-back? That will be quite the entrance!” Alastor said as Razzle came down from the penthouse and transformed to allow him to carry three passengers.

The three of them got on the dragon’s back: Alastor teleported with his shadows, Vaggie used her wings to fly up, and Charlie took the front where Razzle was bowed to let her on the most stable part of his back.

“Let’s go, Razzle! You know where!” Charlie had shown Razzle where they were going earlier. They’d wanted to take Alastor by surprise with where they were going. Razzle shot up in the sky and made for the craft district.

“Interesting! I have no idea where we’re going!” Alastor sounded strangely breathless with those words.

“Trust us, you’ll love it!” Vaggie’s words were almost lost to the wind.

——————————

Razzle landed heavily in the street in front of Chez Couteaux. It was an exclusive Earth “French” style restaurant. Out front there were several Hellhounds on security duty and a long line of people merely hoping to get a seat in the next month. There was also a member of staff whose job was to check reservations and ensure black tie policy was in place.

The rather tall imp with zig-zag curved horns looked up, obviously distracted. “What is the name on the reser-” He cut himself off as he observed Razzle shrinking down to fun size and Alastor approaching with Charlie on his left arm and Vaggie on his right. Charlie and Vaggie had practiced this. Vaggie was against showing Alastor as having the power. Said it would degrade Charlie’s status. But what did Charlie really care about status? The few times she’d tried to flex it, it only made the situation worse.

Her mom had said she would come into her power. All Charlie felt was the privilege.

The imp recovered fast. He bowed and said, “Please enter, Princess Charlotte and company.”

At the same time, both Alastor and Charlie nodded their heads. Vaggie saw and gave a small sigh.

They entered the establishment. Charlie watched for Alastor’s reaction. His smile didn’t change, though she did catch that his eyes opened slightly wider as he looked around.

From the outside, the restaurant was nothing special. No building in the Pride Ring was of nice build. The only things that differentiated it were the shiny flashing sign and the crowds of people hoping that someone dropped their reservation. The inside was an entirely different story. It was magicked to have a vaulted ceiling above a good fifty feet. It had cool blue tones that decorated everything: the smoothe booths, the old-world tables and chairs from the human world, the pillars that lined the room. Even the plants had shades of blue to them.

All around, demons of all kinds were dressed to the nines. A variety of outfits that matched the top class of Charlie’s dress. The way they acted, that was how you could tell if they were common demonfolk or if they were the likes of Overlords or other high-tier demon. Charlie was pretty sure she recognized one particular Overlord, the large neon wolf-woman who made the table she was seated at look kid-sized.

Alastor recovered quickly as the maitre d'hotel led them down the steps to the main part of the restaurant. Most wouldn’t have even noticed his pause. He waved at the wolf-woman when she caught sight of them as they passed her by. She gave a guttural laugh in response.

The maitre d'hotel led them to the table right in the middle of the room before he left like a well-oiled machine. Good, just as Vaggie had asked. Alastor asked the two women to stop with a squeeze of his hand. He then pulled out the chairs, Charlie’s with his hands and Vaggie’s with a shadow tentacle.

“Thank you!” Charlie chirped. Vaggie nodded at him before they both took their seats. Alastor quickly sat as well.

Alastor immediately launched into a lively discussion about the different types of restaurants and cuisine types in the land of the living. He kept it up even through the waiter coming and taking their orders. Charlie was particularly interested in ‘Cajun’ food; the way Alastor described it, it was the best kind of meals on Earth. She vowed to see if there were any of these types of restaurants around.

“-and one simply can’t forget a crawfish boil!” Alastor finished. Charlie could tell he was finished as his eyes ventured across the room. With a look of satisfaction, he said, “Our food’s arrival is imminent!” He twirled a finger along the edge of his water glass, having opted to not have wine. “I will admit, I was surprised they had options for cannibals!”

“They accept all types of demon society,” Vaggie explained. “That’s what makes them so good.”

The waiter arrived, balancing their plates along his arms. He set them down in front of each of them. Vaggie had a delicately treated hell hog pork chop, glazed with a plum extract and decorated with drops of blood along the edge of the plate. Charlie had a devil’s bush salad with various Earth berries mixed in, drizzled with a strawberry vinaigrette. Alastor had asked for ladyfingers to take to Rosie and a cow demon steak, rare with pieces of crystallized soul in a small pile. Charlie tried not to think on whose soul Alastor was eating.

They enjoyed their meals. Charlie caught Vaggie’s eye as they were finishing up, who nodded at her. Good. The newspeople were watching them. It was time to add to their reports.

“Alastor,” Charlie said after she wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin. “What do you think of your meal?”

Alastor gave her a smile that she was pretty sure was genuine as he finished off his soul chips. “It was excellent, my dear! You two have excellent taste in restaurants.”

“It was Charlie’s idea,” Vaggie admitted.

“Oh?” Alastor leaned over and said, “This was a rather smart idea. I’m enjoying myself greatly.” Ah. He must’ve caught the voyeurs too. “It’s wonderful to have eaten dinner with my beautiful brides.”

“Oh you!” Charlie said, blushing for real. She wasn’t sure why she was.

Vaggie laid her tablewares down. “Okay, I’m full.”

“It was the right amount of food for me!” Charlie said. A little disappointed, she said, “I wish I could have some of their crème brûlée. I’m too full to eat it.”

“Oh?” Alastor rolled the word around, like it was giving him ideas. He reached over and patted Charlie’s hand. “We’ll simply have to come back and get you a dessert at the beginning of the meal another time!”

“Definitely!” It warmed Charlie’s heart, that Alastor enjoyed himself enough to want to come back with them. She wasn’t sure if it was progress or not. Either which way, he was happy with things and that had been part of the aim of this date.

Alastor reached for Vaggie’s hand as well. As earlier, he kissed their hands. Charlie caught his gaze shifting ever-so-slightly to behind her before looking at her again. “I believe we’ve finished our meals. Shall we head out?”

“Yes.” Charlie could tell Vaggie was trying to keep her temper in check. She knew that this had been the plan. She had been trying, which is likely why she’d lasted in Alastor’s company as long as she had.

Charlie didn’t know if Alastor knew they had a running tab at the restaurant. He certainly acted like he knew as he got up, helping the other two out of their seats as well. Alastor flagged down the waiter to clear their plates before they left.

They exited the building arm-in-arm, Alastor again in the middle. Razzle was bouncing on the partly-intact canopy across the street. When he saw them, he immediately flew over and transformed. They all got on the same way they did earlier and departed.

Once they made it back to the hotel, Razzle dropped them off before he went back to the penthouse.

“This was a lovely evening, dear ladies,” Alastor said, taking his hat off and bowing to them.

“Nightcap?” Vaggie suggested. It made Charlie gasp in awed surprise. Vaggie was intentionally trying to spend more time with Alastor!

Alastor shook his head as he stood back up. “I’m afraid I have a prior commitment. I will have to bid you goodbye for tonight!”

Before either of them could ask, Alastor melted into the shadows.

“Well, I tried.” Vaggie shrugged. A smirk to Charlie was followed by, “How about you? Would you like to have a drink with me?”

Charlie smiled. “That would be lovely.”

——————————

“The mission was a success.”

“Hm?” Charlie was mid-dressing when Vaggie came in holding numerous papers. She buttoned her pants, and sans any top, walked over to her fiancee. “What’s going on?”

“Here.” Vaggie handed her several of the papers. “Look at the front pages.”

Charlie flipped through each paper. Each had a different picture of them at their dinner the night before, all with headlines such as ‘Overlord Alastor Woos the Princess of Hell’ and ‘Will Charlie Morningstar Allow Her Fiance to Eat You? Turn to Page 6 for Our In-Depth Analysis!’.

They all looked beautiful. Sexy. In control. Powerful . Some of the pictures were bad, blurry, and of such things as them blinking or mid-chew. Vox’s newspaper had the story on page 9 with a 100 word acknowledgement of it having happened. When Charlie caught sight of the photo, she paused. Then she looked closer.

It was during the meal. It was an unflattering photo of Charlie, her mouth wide open to eat another bite. Vaggie was mid-sneeze. And Alastor…

The expression on his face. Most would have seen a barely-smiling demon who was bored. Charlie knew better. He was relaxed. Looking at Charlie with a fond smile. In his eyes, there was a spark that was normally not there. He almost looked like he was actually enjoying himself. And, maybe, smitten with her.

Charlie’s heart stopped. Then she squeed so hard that the windows shattered.

[swhatever]

‘’comfort.’’

kinktober ‘22 day 31: aftercare

pairing: jily 

summary: just aftercare post sex on october 31st. that is definitely it and nothing bad happens that changes the course of the wizarding world forever afterwards no sir

warnings: no actual smut (its aftercare babeyyyyy), moony tries and fails to write the characters properly, im so sorry for the pain im about to inflict, this came to me like a prophetic dream i couldnt stop myself, tooth rotting fluff, theyre so madly in love im cryign, nobody speak to me I MISS THEM!!!!

word count: 435 (short and sweet) 

a/n: the girls that get it, get it. the girls that dont, dont.

James barely had the heart to move from the way he curled into Lily’s side after he pulled out, too comfortable to want to move barely an inch. 

When needs must, he supposed.  

He got up with a barely audible groan, moving to turn the hot tap of the bath on, making sure to put in the plug after the water ran hot (he didn’t want a repeat of when he left it running for 20 minutes forgetting the plug). It wasn’t until the bath was half full and running rampant with bubbles he stopped to check on Lily. She was led on the bed, eyes half closed, a blissful smile painting her lips. If he could capture this moment forever he wouldn’t hesitate. Keep that grin in his back pocket for safe keeping as an unlimited well of serotonin. He picked her up easily, and she snuggled into his side as he carried her, placing Lily gingerly on the bathroom counter. He remade the bed then, replacing the sheets before placing the pillows neatly atop the duvet. 

The bath was run then, and he turned off the tap before adding a bit of cold to cool it down from scorching to skin boiling, just as his Lily liked it. She kicked her legs from her perch as he pottered about, grabbing pyjamas and underwear from the drawers, and Lily’s hairbrush with the matching flower painted on the wooden handle. 

James dipped a lone finger into the water. Satisfied, he turned off the tap and placed Lily in the water, getting in to sit behind each other. They sat in a peaceful silence as they washed each other's hair and bodies, scrubbing where the other couldn’t reach and soaking up each other's presence as their Harry slept peacefully in the other room. Content, they continued to sit in the bath after washing until they felt they were more raisin than human. 

James got out first, extending a hand to Lily as she stepped out. They dried each other off, brushing each other's hair and dressing each other. A quick brush of the teeth and they got back into bed, eagerly awaiting the warm sheets and comfort of the plush duvet. They cuddled up to each other, Lily throwing an arm over James’ chest. He placed a chaste kiss to her forehead as he drifted, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to stay awake, committing her every feature to memory. Not that he needed to, he’d done that years ago. 

It was only when they were half asleep they heard the knock at the door. 

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

Playing with AI Writers

For the moment, let's set aside the question of whether the writing is stolen. In theory if you write prolifically yourself and/or it grabs exclusively from public domain, which is a LOT of text, a language model could get something that behaves much the same as the current stuff, even if the current stuff may have shitty moral undertones if its creators did a copyright violation because they're lazy.

In other words, from a structural standpoint, that's not the problem. "Ethically sourced" AI chatbots are possible.

I want to talk about the results, things I appreciate, and the current endemic problems.

So, most of the time the way a chatbot works is by slicing pieces of speech patterns into what it calls "tokens." These are usually a sentence long, but not always. It then finds sets of tokens that seem like the next piece of what should be said, like a longer-form version of how your autocomplete works on your phone. You press "t" and it offers the most likely options, probably "the" and "this" unless you have odd writing habits (more on that in a sec) and then if you follow up with u for "tu" it updates, tuned to the extra information; "the" and "this" are now impossible, and the most likely words starting with "tu" are "turn" and "Tuesday." With tokens all sliced up and vaguely grouped in a way we'll say is kind of like letters for the sake of letting this metaphor make sense, you can see how putting in a sentence - "I attempt to pick the ogre's pocket without waking it." - is much like putting "t" into an autofill-enabled device on a phone or word processor. Adding another sentence might get you closer to your preferred response, being as it is, in this metaphor, akin to typing "tu" rather than "t"; You're feeding in two tokens to help it respond with superior search results. For example if you follow up with "My arm grows weak as I near the creature and smell the flesh that I realize used to be my squad." that is a very different - more fantasy-horror - vibe, and both the odds of the creature waking and the results of its waking will be substantially altered by such a follow-up.

Now, in spite of how much I've enjoyed playing with AI storytelling devices on my own machine, I'm gonna trash these programs for a hot minute: The unsolvable problem is that context matters. People are treating AI-generated text like some magical context-maker machine, the way people who've had 1 but not 2 years of physics might think if they get their ring of magnets at just the right angle they'll get another ring of magnets inside them to spin infinitely for unlimited free energy. This metaphor is, I should mention, very good.

Because just like the fake infinite energy machine, there are a bunch of people trying to profit off of the idea that AI is infinite context-value for no work.

Because just like the fake infinite energy machine, it's not like there's no such thing as an engine; just not an engine that makes infinite power for free. The problem with AI writing isn't that it can't get you toward having a written document full of interesting and potentially even copyrightable text. It's merely that it has a bunch of hidden costs that make it way less efficient and valuable than the pitch men are claiming.

Let's talk Voice. AI doesn't have a writer's voice, because it's literally taking individual sentences from 800 writers at a time. And it can't get voice. You don't sound more like Sir Terry Pratchett by making Death TALK IN ALL CAPS. You sound more like Sir Terry Pratchett by making Death honestly as merciless as real Death and yet a compassionate and even relatable character. There's no combination of tokens, short of recombining the tokens into the original texts they were taken from, thousand monkeys on typewriters style, that results in doing that.

I do want to give props to the mimicry for a second, though. If you start a conversation with Bob-bot as Roger, and you want the story to go a certain way, you can keep feeding in tokens to improve results, right? And there's a fairly natural way to do this: By writing an extra sentence after your own response. I shake my head and grip at my hair like I want to pull it out. "Sure, that sounds like a great idea. Why don't we eat the children while we're at it?" Bob-bot can tell I'm being sarcastic, and while he isn't sure of why he can tell that I'm royally pissed off at his suggestion.

Not only does that last line of extra "here's what my interlocutor knows" prompting help a lot with getting the conversation to avoid some of AI writing's natural pitfalls, but after 10-20 exchanges, I noticed that Bob-bot started copying my formatting. [What Bob-bot does] "What Bob-bot says!" [What Bob-bot intends, or how Bob-bot's action affects Roger emotionally]

I actually found that really cool! But. But!

Let's talk rerolls.

This kind of thing is more immediately visible in AI Art; Discussions of how "prompt writers" who fancy themselves AI Artists are simply unable to fix "their" work, because the problem with an AI-generated picture is usually that it has bad fundamentals on proportions, has like six light sources (because different pieces of the picture are copied from different works), and most of all because the current generative programs are bad at segmenting their resulting images by physical zone. Once they make something with sixteen pirates behind Superman, they don't remember where in the picture there are sixteen pirates, so if they put that in without you ever asking for any pirates (let alone sixteen) they don't know how to take pirates out of the picture, where some dude you hired off of Fiverr would just go, "Oops, yeah I included a layer from a different picture because I'm working on six commissions at once, let me delete that rq" and it'd be fixed. With the AI you're better off just running the program again, asking for a new (equally flawed but for different and hopefully less egregious reasons) picture of Superman.

But the same thing happens in the AI writing. I had a character named Ari and apparently a lot of other people had male characters named Ari, because the chatbot constantly misgendered her even though I established in the character bio that she's a girly, womanly, female, feminine DAAAAME. I also had a female goblin at one point, and the misgendering on that one I understand a bit better (though I found it deeply annoying) because the proportions of written genders of goblins are WAY less close to parity than the proportions of written genders of humans or elves. If you think of all goblins in all fiction this thing would be pulling from, it's gotta be like 90% or more that "goblin = male" right? Makes me wonder how often it'd misgender dwarves.

Further props to the program: Much like how my mom's phone at first would attempt to correct "lesbian" to "Lebanese" but soon learned that no, mom really did intend to write the word "lesbian," local-memory caching does start to fix this problem as it goes. You can edit the AI's response so that "As Ari rounds the bend, his breath catches at the scene before him" -> "As Ari rounds the bend, her breath catches at the scene before her" and each time you do that the misgendering gets less likely for future replies within the same story.

...But this is where we get into that bit, before, about the hidden costs. Between its inability to generate a consistent tone, its complete inability to carry a story without you providing multiple pages of background and worldbuilding design docs, and the editorial work you'll have to do cleaning up its replies and/or writing stage direction into your replies and/or flat-out rejecting something that feels completely tonally unacceptable or just plain ignores the situation AI: "I stab the ogres with my +9 ogre-slaying knife!" Me: "You're not THERE! You're at the CLUB!" there comes a point where you have to compare the value of how much work you put into this engine in order to get an output you're happy with not against infinite time, but rather...against the mighty story-generation engine known as A Page of Blank Paper.

I've found that for all but the most intentionally-rambly forms of writing, the latter has a lower time cost, fewer bad detours, and easier repair work between starting the production and getting to something I'm really happy with.

AI Text Generation is really impressive, and the things it does that impress will likely continue to get more impressive, but until it fundamentally changes how it seeks out its results, those impressive things won't solve the fact that it's inferior to simply writing well. And if you're not good at writing well, I have my doubts that you'll even catch the fact that there are sixteen pirates behind your Superman and your outputs are gonna be shit but you won't realize it. (Which I guess is an endorsement for AI Text Generation as a choose-your-own-adventure toy, if you're bad at writing?)

[tsreviews]

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Here’s the best part about this all… You don’t even have to deliver the gigs yourself! Yes, let me repeat myself… You don’t have to deliver ANYTHING.

We’ve combined the power of Google & Microsoft’s billion dollar AI technology, which can fulfill your orders in just seconds, stunning your customers with freaky fast order delivery.

Stunning, Sleek Templates -

Maintain a professional image by choosing from one of our multiple sexy looking templates. We shelled out thousands of dollars to pay the best designers out there, to put together these templates.

You get them for 100% free, when you grab a copy of AI Gigz Hub, without having to buy any upsells or pay extra fees.

Blazing Fast Hosting -

We’re not stopping yet with the features, so we’ll give you something that will save you thousands of dollars every year, 100% free, blazing fast hosting.

Not only will it help you save more money, it will speed up loading times on your site and keep customers more satisfied. Which means, even MORE money in your pocket. Sound like a good deal to you?

Easy To Use Interface -

Nothing turns people off more than an ugly, confusing, hard to-use interface. They’ll run away like they’re being chased by a bear!

That’s why we went the extra mile, to ensure that these freelancing sites are easy to use for anyone, regardless of their technical experience.

This will help you retain customers that come, so they continue ordering gigs, and paying you a pretty penny for your services.

AI Logo Generator -

Make your store unique by using our 1-click logo generator…

Really, it’s as easy as it sounds, just press your mouse to generate a logo design and Shazam! You get a professional, ready to use logo.

This is tiny, but it will add a touch to your freelancing site and make it more memorable 

Mobile Optimized Sites -

Did you know that 60% of all internet users are mobile? Yes, more people are using cell phones now than actual computers! And the amount of mobile users will only continue to grow…

That’s why we spent extra time to perfect the design of these freelancing sites on not just desktop, but also mobile as well.

Works On All Browsers -

Not only is mobile design important, it’s also different that a site is optimized for ALL browsers. A site could work fine on Chrome, but not on Firefox, or Safari.

This tiny, yet huge issue can cost you a LOT of money. So we spared no effort in optimizing these freelancing sites for every browser, including Chrome, Firefox, Safari, Opera, Edge, and others.

Optimized For Speed -

We’ve left no stone unturned with AI Gigz Hub, which includes optimizing these sites for the fastest speeds possible. We do this with lazy loading images, CDNs, and minified code.

You’d be surprised the impact speeding up a website has - according to Walmart, they saw an increase of 13% in profit, for each 0.5 second faster their site loaded…

(If the following terms above are confusing, don’t worry, just know it means a faster speed for your freelancing site!)

AI-Run Freelance Site Builder: With just one click, AI Gigz Hub sets up your fully automated freelance site. It handles everything—from selling AI services to closing clients, processing orders, and collecting payments.

Wide Range of Services: Whether you need content, chatbots, or voiceovers, AI Gigz Hub covers it all. The AI-generated services cater to diverse needs, making it a versatile platform.

Efficiency and Automation: Say goodbye to manual tasks. AI Gigz Hub operates 24/7, finding clients, managing orders, and handling payments while you sleep.

Click Here To Get AI Gigz Now

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AI Genie Review: Is It Worth To Buy Now?

Introduction AI Genie Review: Is It Worth To Buy Now?

Welcome to my AI Genie review. I’m Riddhish, an affiliate marketer working in this industry for the last 5 years.

BotzClick is the creator of this AI Genie!

AI Genie Creates Limitless Real Time Unique Content, auto publishing Posts, Pages & Images directly from Chat GPT & Open AI on WordPress in any Niche

Make The Smart-Switch To This Life-Changing Technology And Save Thousands of Dollars Now!

Product Overview:

✅Front End Price: $19.00

✅Money-Back Guarantee: 30 Days

✅Recommendation: Highly Recommended

✅My Product Rating: 9/10

✅Official Website: >> VISIT HERE <<

Why is AI Genie Recommended?

You will get the following things in AI Genie:-

First & Only Google Bard Approved Software That Publishes 100% Original, SEO Friendly Content using Open AI.

Publish Automated Posts and Pages using AI Genie from AI directly on Your website

Integrated Chat GPT Bot gives Instant Answers at Your Website to Visitors

Choose Temperature Of The Content & Control Its Randomness

Control Length Of The Content To Be Generated

Never Worry About Paying Huge Money Monthly To Top Content Creation Platforms

100% Easy To Use, Newbie Friendly Technology

50 DFY Websites Included Without Adding Any Images, Content Or Doing Anything Yourself

AND MANY MORE……

How Does AI Genie Work?

Now, is time To Turn Your Worries Into Blessings

In Just 3 EASY Steps…

STEP 1 — Login

STEP 2 — Set Automation

STEP 3 — Profit

What Will You Get Inside In AI Genie?

Let Open AI Do All Publishing Content And Images To Pages On Your Website

No Manual Work Needed, Just Set Keywords & Create Websites In A Flash

Unlimited Commercial License Included To Provide Red Hot Services To Hungry Clients

Google Approved Technology for Mass Blogging

>> BUY AI Genie <<

AI Genie Benefits:

✅Get tons of audience hooked using Google friendly content, images etc at a one-time cost lower than you could ever imagine!

✅Our reliable and strong platform ensures you can get benefitting instantly with tremendous ease.

✅AI Genie has been tried and tested to guarantee the fastest results with no issues at all.

✅Never worry about losing your lists & boost profits at the snap of your fingers.

✅Have Your Own Website Publishing Content 24X7

✅AI Genie Is All-In-One Platform So You Just Sit Back & Relax

✅No Huge Investment- Its Pocket Friendly

AI Genie Vendor Bonuses:

You will get the following things in AI Genie:-

Bonus 1 — No Wasting Money On Expensive Content Creation Or Graphic Platforms.

Bonus 2 — No Losing Audience Attention Due To Boring Images & Content

Bonus 3 — Lifetime FREE Updates

Bonus 4 — Paying Huge Renewal Costs Monthly That Burns A Hole In Your Pockets

Bonus 5 — expensive Complicated Content Creation Tools Which Only Increases Your Frustration

AI Genie Final Opinion:

AI Genie is a great tool for making websites quickly and easily. It uses advanced AI to create content that can help your website rank high on Google. You don’t need to spend extra money on creating content or images.

This tool is very simple to use and saves a lot of time. You don’t have to log into different platforms or copy and paste anything. AI Genie takes care of everything, making your website interesting and useful for visitors.

FAQs about AI Genie

How does AI Genie ensure the content is SEO-friendly?

AI Genie uses advanced AI algorithms to create unique, SEO-friendly content. This helps your website rank higher on Google and attract more visitors.

Can I control the type of content AI Genie generates?

Yes, AI Genie allows you to choose the temperature and control the randomness of the content. You can also set the length of the content to fit your needs.

Do I need technical skills to use AI Genie?

No, AI Genie is designed to be user-friendly and easy to use, even for beginners. You just need to log in, set automation, and let the AI handle the rest.

>> BUY AI Genie <<

Affiliate Disclosure: Affiliate links are used in this content. I will receive a little commission if you purchase any product using one of the links in this post. But there are no additional costs for you.

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Best White Trousers for Women in 2024: A Fresh Canvas of Style

These Best White Trousers For Women in 2024 are a classic fashion staple that effortlessly changes through seasons. If you’re putting on a dress to enjoy a chic brunch, or simply embracing casual elegance white trousers are a great choice for unlimited possibilities. Let’s look at the top choices:

Women’s White Wide Leg Pant  High Waist Loose Fit Back Elastic Waist

Elegant style meets comfortable: White high-waisted trouser pants provide an uncomplicated fit and broad leg, ideal for casual and work clothes. The elastic waistband on the back ensures an ideal fit, and the pleated front gives an element of class. You can dress them up with a jacket and a pair of heels for work or go casual with tank tops and sandals on a lazy weekend.

The key features are:

High-waisted pants for a flattering silhouette

A wide leg to give you a comfortable and cool feel

The loose fit will give you the ultimate convenience

Elastic waistband at the back to make it easy to move

Front pleated for a hint of polish

It is versatile for both casual and formal occasions

Women's White Wide Leg Pant

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Capri Pants for Women Wide Leg White Trousers Palazzo Pull

The high-waisted capri pants are a cool and comfy take on summer fashion, ideal for casual occasions as well as comfortable working environments. Imagine:

Linen fabric: Light fabric, breathable and naturally cool, perfect for hot temperatures.

A wide leg shape: Beautiful and flattering, it drapes beautifully to create a comfortable and feminine style.

Capri length: Just below the ankle, highlighting your shoes while adding a hint of summer fashion.

The elastic waistband is pulled on. Easy to wear and adjust for an ideal fit with no buttons or zippers.

High-waisted design elongates your legs and gives a more attractive shape.

Capri Pants for Women Wide

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Womens High Rise Pocketed Wide Leg Pants Long Palazzo Trousers

These palazzos with wide-legs and high-rises pants are an elegant and comfortable alternative for casual wear, that blends relaxed styling with useful function. Here’s a list of their main characteristics:

Style:

High-waisted: Gives you a more attractive shape, lengthening your legs and tightening your waist.

Wide-leg: Provides a comfortable and fluid fit, which is perfect for warmer temperatures and providing an ease.

Palazzo style: It has a long-length silhouette, which drapes elegantly with a hint of class.

Functionality:

Pockets: An essential feature that removes the necessity for bags and allows you to carry items such as your keys and phone.

A casual style that is perfect for casual wear for running errands, relaxing at home, or going to casual gatherings.

Womens High Rise Pocketed Wide Leg Pants Casual Long Palazzo Trousers

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Women Lining Palazzo Pants Summer White Pants Outfit. Best White Trousers for Women in 2024

Enjoy the sun’s warmth, while feeling cool and comfy with these flowing linen palazzo pants. They’re the perfect combination of effortless style and summer casual vibes. They’re perfect for:

Relaxed Days:

At home in the sun: Sink into a state of bliss with soft linen and the loose, wide-leg style.

The park is a great place to walk around. It feels stylish and cool as the fabric dries elegantly with each step.

A picnic with your family and friends? Add a dash in boho style to your informal gathering.

Summer Soirees:

A beachside meal: Match with an edgy top and sandals to create a slouchy and chic style.

Outdoor barbecues: Style them with the perfect necklace and heels to add an extra touch of elegance.

Weddings that are casual and summer-like: Their elegant and comfortable design makes the perfect choice for a casual wedding.

Women Linen Palazzo Pants Summer Boho Wide Leg High Waist Casual Lounge Pant Trousers with Pockets

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Womens Flare Jeans Wide Leg Baggy Jean for Women Stretch Denim Pants

The Best White Jeans For Women . Enjoy the revival of the 70s with these high-waisted wide-leg flares for women. Mixing retro style with modern day comfort, they’re the perfect choice to add a touch of vintage style to your daily clothes. This is a brief overview of their main attributes:

Style:

High-waisted: Gives you a more attractive shape, lengthening your legs while also securing your waist to create a more defined style.

Wide-leg: Provides a comfortable and flowy fit that is reminiscent of the classic 70s flare.

Baggy style: Provides ample room for movement that is comfortable and relaxed vibe.

Material:

Stretch denim ensures the perfect fit and is flexible enough to move along with you, without restrictions or stiffness.

The weight of the material may differ based on the particular product and season, so take into account the weather and your personal preferences before deciding on the right pair.

Womens Flare Jeans High Waisted Wide Leg Baggy Jean for Women Stretch Denim Pants

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Elegant High Waist Women's Roll-Up Hem Pleated Large Leg Pants with Pocket

In a relaxed and confident manner They exude class and comfort. They’re perfect for leisure and work. This is why they’ll be your new go-to pants:

Elegant Design:

High-waisted: Extends your legs and gives an attractive silhouette.

Wide-leg: Gives you a comfy and effortlessly elegant drape.

Pleated front: Gives some shine and visual interest.

Roll-up hems: Give a variety of looks, which can be adjusted to either full-length or cropped.

Functional Comfort:

Pockets provide practicality, without sacrificing design.

Fabric that is breathable and soft: Provides all-day comfort, ideal for all seasons.

Relaxed shape: Moves at your own pace, great for travel, work or just casual outings.

As you have likely discovered, white trousers have become more than a summer staple this year; they have evolved into an essential fashion piece that transcends seasons and offers you a way to express yourself uniquely through fashion. No matter whether your preference lies with wide legs, sharp tailored cigarette pants or cargos there will surely be something perfect just waiting to be discovered!

Elegant High Waist Women's Roll-Up Hem Pleated Large Leg Pants with Pocket

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Keep in mind that the key to wearing white trousers with pride lies in confidence and experimentation. Accept trends, explore different silhouettes and accessorize with flair; don’t be intimidated to break rules to create looks that truly express who you are! Best White Trousers For Women 2024.