#its the perfect combination of inspiration

[satoshi-mochida]

LUNAR Remastered Collection announced for PS5, PS4, Xbox One, Switch, and PC - Gematsu

GungHo Online Entertainment has announced LUNAR Remastered Collection for PlayStation 5, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Switch, and PC (Steam). It includes remastered versions of LUNAR: Silver Star Story and LUNAR 2: Eternal Blue. It will launch in spring 2025.

Get the first details below, via GungHo Online Entertainment America product coordinator Asca Akiyama on PlayStation Blog.

The Series That Started It All

When the games first released in the ’90s, LUNAR was a pioneer of its time, often credited as being one of the first JRPGs to become popular in the West. With the upcoming release of LUNAR Remastered Collection, we invite you to experience (or re-experience) this iconic title that shaped the JRPG genre.

A Timeless Classic, Reimagined

The remastered edition brings a host of exciting upgrades, including widescreen support, enhanced pixel art, high-definition animated cutscenes, and all-new English voice acting. Players can choose to either go old school with the original visuals or go remastered for a more modern look. Plus, a new toggle feature allows players to speed up battles, giving them more control over the pace of their adventure, while improved strategy settings make combat even more convenient. And for the first time in the series, LUNAR will be available in two additional languages: German and French, alongside English and Japanese. This image shows a party battling a Yeti. To the top right of screen, the UI denotes the battle’s speed, as the player can use L2 or R2 to speed up or slow down the clash.

The Adventure Begins – LUNAR: Silver Star Story

LUNAR: Silver Star Story begins in the quiet village of Burg, where a boy named Alex dreams of grand adventures inspired by the tale of Dragonmaster Dyne. Enticed by adventure and treasure, Alex and his friends set off on a quest, but with the sudden emergence of the Magic Emperor who wishes to control the world, it’s up to them to fight the rising evil and save the world from peril. This shows characters conversing with a white dragon. On-screen dialogue from the dragon states: “You may begin, children, Your future now rests squarely in your own diminutive hands.”

The Legacy Continues – LUNAR 2: Eternal Blue

Set 1000 years after LUNAR: Silver Star Story, LUNAR 2: Eternal Blue follows a young adventurer named Hiro, who encounters a mysterious visitor from the Blue Star while exploring an ancient tower. Named Lucia, she insists that she be taken to the ruler of their world, Goddess Althena. Together, Hiro and Lucia encounter the best of allies, the worst of enemies, and the darkest forces of destruction that threaten the whole of creation. This image shows a character hanging upside down from a rope. Flames rage on the floor below them. On-screen dialogue from the character states: “Oh no! The exit’s closing. Hurry!”

the Plot Thickens

The LUNAR series tells a classic tale of a young adventurer with a fluffy sidekick, who falls in love with a girl who may or may not be immortal. What begins as a light-hearted quest quickly takes a dark turn with the rise of an evil villain, subsequently placing the fate of the entire world in the hero’s hands. This timeless story, filled with dragons, swords, and treasures, is brought to life by an unforgettable cast of characters—from a young priestess who acts the perfect heiress at home but has a fiery temper, to a tragic villain who nevertheless has a flair for the dramatic. The games’ straightforward and effortless storytelling, combined with thoughtful character development, gives LUNAR its unique charm and enduring appeal. This shows characters wandering through a woodland village.

Iconic Art

The allure of LUNAR also lies in its amazing artwork in both the anime cutscenes and 2D pixel art. The blend of these two distinct art styles in the battles, events, and anime cutscenes made it a standout title when it first released. Even today, LUNAR‘s ’90s anime aesthetic holds up well in quality, and we’ve polished it even further for this remaster. This retro art style is a rarity nowadays, and playing this game will surely satiate your appetite for ‘90s throwbacks.

Watch the announcement trailer below.

Announce Trailer

English

Japanese

[bookendsguy]

BUT YOUU DONT LOVE ME THATS NEWS TO ME THATS NEWS TOOO MEEE THATS NEWS TO-

[wtfforged]

my campaign hiatus has gone on for too long so to cope ive combined my interests at their maximum potency and had some dnd-strawhats thoughts

thoughts in depth under read more... :)!

this is SO self indulgent. their designs literally did not change. but i am a firm believer that dnd doesnt have to be european high fantasy. and also one piece literally IS fantasy. no changes are necessary to fit into dnd. ive already imagined plenty of campaign/oneshot ideas inspired by one piece. so this was basically just an exercise of trying to replicate their canon abilities in dnd 5e as much as possible without totally homebrewing everything. well. aside from luffy. you just cant take away or change his stretching.

LUFFY: (human monk. drunken master subclass. outlander)

the only plain human of the crew to balance out with the fact that he still has rubber powers. obviously a monk. but drunken master subclass specifically because i think the flavor(not the fact that its about being a drunkard) and abilities both fit him really well. this line in the subclass' flavortext especially fits him: "A drunken master often enjoys playing the fool to bring gladness to the despondent or to demonstrate humility to the arrogant, but when battle is joined, the drunken master can be a maddening, masterful foe."

ZORO: (tiefling fighter. samurai subclass. bounty hunter)

a fighter with the samurai subclass is so very incredibly obvious... but i actually had a lot of fun geeking out while comparing the abilities to what he can do in canon; Fighting Spirit, Rapid Strike, and Strength Before Death especially! tiefling is also pretty on the nose for his demon pirate hunter shtick and asura form, but i thought he'd be really human-passing for a tiefling and theorized about his tail getting cut off at some point or another before joining the strawhats. initially wasnt gonna give him a feat, but i gave sanji a feat so i thought itd be unfair to not give him one as well, so sentinel fits the bill pretty well i think!

NAMI: (tabaxi rogue. arcane trickster subclass. criminal)

cat burglar -> full grown literal humanoid cat. this one is INCREDIBLY self indulgent... i love... cats... theres nothing deeper to this and no other reasoning. i took cat burglar and ran with it. can you tell that i love izutsumi dungeon meshi? rogue for the aforementioned burglar-ing as well, and the arcane trickster subclass for when she picks up climatact! the mage hand will be very useful for her pickpocketing. in the future as she levels up with timeskip, i can totally see her multiclassing into wizard as well! weather wizard!

USOPP: (lightfoot halfling artificer. artillerist subclass. urchin)

I HAD SO MUCH FUN THINKING ABOUT HIS CHARACTER SHEET. halfling's Naturally Stealthy ability lets him hide behind his crewmates since theyre (almost) all bigger than him, so its perfect for hiding behind zoro or sanji all the time. Lucky is also perfect for him, and I think Brave fits pretty well too when he puts on the sogeking mask. artillerist artificer is also very fun! tinkering and making magic items for his crew, and i think Eldritch Canon or Arcane Firearm could both be easily reflavored as kabuto or any of his inventions. for emphasizing his sniper-ness, the spell sniper feat was also necessary. i think hes my favorite of all the concepts. big ears and long nose combo is so cute to me.

SANJI: (half-elf monk. drunken master subclass. guild artisan (cook!))

race was mostly based on vibes i wont lie. squints. and that vinsmoke balogna or whatever too ig. but mostly vibes. along with the idea that i think a dwarf zeff raising him would be really funny and cute. monk is also obvious, and same subclass as luffy for mostly the same reasons. though the flavor fits him much less, i think the abilities still fit him perfectly, and this blurb specifically; "Your martial arts technique mixes combat training with the precision of a dancer." i really wanted to give him a different subclass from luffy, but i dislike all the other monk subclasses a lot and i found none of them fit him as well anyways, so to try and give them SOME differences, i gave him the crusher feat.

CHOPPER: (awakened deer(shifter statblock) cleric. life subclass. hermit)

this ones definitely a mouthful im sorry. awakened deer for obvious reasons, but due to magic instead of devil fruit stuff. when i was struggling with his race, i looked a lot at shifter because of his forms, but it occurred to me that itd be super cool if he could shift between all of the different shifter options instead of being stuck with just one to replicate his rumble balls. something like heavy point/guard point=beasthide, horn point/arm point(?maybe?)=longtooth, walk point/jumping point=swiftstride, and brain point=wildhunt. hed definitely need some kind of nerf though to balance out that homebrew... and cleric for class. duh.

ROBIN: (high elf wizard. order of scribes subclass. criminal)

robin is definitely the one i struggled the most with just because of her class. elf came pretty easily- shes very elegant and i think shed look cute with super long ears- and i landed on high elf instead of wood elf for the int-based abilities. i was really on the fence between sorcerer and wizard for her because i knew shed be a full spellcaster, but i didnt feel that any of the subclasses really fit her. i ended up going with wizard for order of the scribes since it focuses on texts and knowing everything. but also because robin with a flying talking sentient book would be crazy cool. it could also be similar to how she spawns mouths and eyes places to talk to or watch people. my "fuck it, why not. this would be rad. its my house" mindset kicked in with her i will admit. also the One with the Word ability made me cackle out loud when i read it. thats the funniest ability ever. anyways, i cant really think of a way to replicate her powers, but maybe we could just reflavor a bunch of spells to be her limbs or clutch; hold person, maximillian's earthen grasp, or evard's black tentacles. thatd probably work okay, and theres a handful of spells to replicate her ability to spawn eyes or mouths. unrelated, but i imagine nico olvia to be a drow. why? her hair is white. i am a simple man!

[felixandresims]

Hello, Hello, Hello :),

Time is flying so quickly. It's already February. After a month of Shop the Look, it's time to return to the Soho Set. With part four, I want to pick up on something I wanted to create for the Fayun Set, a modular seating island situation. After further developing the idea, I called it a book lounge, which reminds me of Soho with all its book shops. This Set is also my contemporary answer to the library I created for the Chateau Set :) Spoiler alert: you can mix and match the books from both collections!

The lounge consists of a long Table you can use as a dining table or desk. You can combine it with a seating platform (PSST is a loveseat) and a Ficus planter that slots into the table. The platform has lots of slots perfect for your decoration purposes.

I approached shelves differently this time. For versatility, I separated the poles from the shelves; there are three different height options and two different shelf lengths. They come in metal and wooden swatches. I had quite some fun trying out all the various combinations :) Of course, I filled them with slots until the brim!

No shelves without clutter, I created nine different book arrangements inspired by all sorts of design books. Additionally, I made the Zettel'z Light from Ingo Maurer and had fun creating a painting.

This Set is on Early Access, and you can find it here.

Thank you so much again for the love and support. I can't spoil next month just jet, but I'm sure you will be happy about what is to come :D

Happy Simming and lots of love,

Felix xx

[sweetpascal]

" someplace nice "

summary: when simon finally comes back home from deployment, he makes sure he spoils you in the best way possible. *wink wink*

warnings: cursing, teasing touches, husband!simon needs a warning of its own UGH, filthy car sex, messy pussy eating, wet noises, missonaryyy, filthy nasty dirty talk, we already know simon has the mouth of a sailor hehe

wc: 2.8k

notes: first of all, i wanna give a big big big shoutout to @suimon because without her AMAZING FUCKING PHENOMENAL works of art, i wouldn't have gotten out of my writing funk and they truly have inspired me 🫶🏼 second of all, i was on twitter and came across this spicy video and it basically helped me create whatever this is 😭 enjoy !

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to go out tonight. in fact, you’re ecstatic to go out with your husband. it’s only been two days since simon has been back from being deployed for almost one month. he had spent the two days sleeping and getting up to eat when it’s necessary, only to go back to sleeping. you didn’t care about that. you were just happy that he was back home. safe. alive. on the third day, he surprises you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“we’re going out t’night,” he tells you, eyes all soft with a barely there smile on his lips when you go nose deep into the flowers and sniffing deeply with a pleased smile on your face. “i won’t tell you where. but it’s gonna be a nice place.”

that night, you got ready with nervous butterflies bubbling in the pit of your stomach. it had been so long since you and simon have been out on a date night. with his deployments and your full-time job, having time for yourselves, let alone as a couple was a rarity these days.

you sprayed yourself with simon’s favorite perfume of yours and did a once over in the mirror. your hair looked beautiful, your makeup was on point, your outfit wasn’t too flashy nor too casual - it was a body hugging dress with thin straps and tasteful cleavage and some wedged heels. as you walked downstairs, you saw simon waiting for you at the bottom with his keys in hand. he was dressed so nicely and the color of his dress shirt matched your dress. with tight fitting slacks and his ‘going out’ boots, you knew you’d be staring at him all night long. your cheeks warmed when you caught his gaze. his lips had parted and you could’ve sworn his eyes sparkled. although your heels added a few inches to your height, it was still nothing compared to simon. he still stood above you, two and a half heads taller.

“so.. how do i look?”

he didn’t like how hesitant you sounded. with a slow step forward, his finger hooked under your chin to lift your head up. god, the smell of him was mouth watering. you’re on your ovulating schedule so his natural musk combined with his cologne was like sinking your teeth into the tenderest meat there is. you nearly moaned. nearly.

“you look.. almost as beautiful as the day i met you,” he told you, so genuine, so soft, and so in love.

“almost?” you giggled and caught him off guard by pulling him down and clumsily kissing his chin instead of his lips.

“mhm,” he grumbled and led the way outside to his suv.

dinner went smoothly. simon had taken you both to a nice little italian restaurant downtown. it was the perfect place for a romantic night. the tables were dimly lit with candles and fresh flowers. he did everything a gentleman should do. pulling your chair out, knowing your favorite dish and ordering it for you, getting you your own dessert, paying. but the night still had a salacious vibe to it. for some reason, simon just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. his hand kept brushing up on your thigh, subtly hiking your dress up to feel your skin under his fingertips. you had to quietly scold him as the restaurant was nowhere near empty and your table wasn’t secluded from wandering eyes.

“can’t help it,” he told you in your ear, his voice all low and gruff and husky in a way that always had you tingling. “my wife s’just so fuckin’ gorgeous to look at.” and with that, he left a warm kiss under your earlobe, knowing exactly that was the spot he knew makes you whimper. and you did. only loud enough for him to her.

during the car ride home, it began to rain. it was damn near impossible to drive with the way the rain pelted hard and fast onto the windshield and roof. simon cursed under his breath, the hand resting on your thigh tightening for a brief second. you swallowed down a soft moan as it got lodged in the back of your throat. but simon, having the ears of a true soldier, heard it. he fucking hears everything. you hated and loved it simultaneously.

breaking free from your thoughts, the car swerves to the side to go down an empty road leading to an abandoned part. it was the only place farthest from town. no busy streets. no houses. no stores. it was deserted.

“si?” you were getting confused when he put the car into park and turned the ignition off. he turns on the top light and then turns to you. you expected him to give you a kiss with how he’s leaning over the console, but instead he reaches under your passenger seat, pulls the lever, and forcefully slides your seat further back so it puts a big amount of space between you and the dashboard. “simon?!”

“gimme a minute,” was all he says before getting out of the car and getting wet from the rain.

the door slams shut and you’re twisting and turning in your seat. it was pitch black outside with no streetlights, no house lights, no nothing. your side door is yanked open and simon hops in, slamming it shut and locking it after. he’s on his knees in front of you in the passenger side as you’re still in the seat, dumbfounded. he starts to unbutton his dress shirt as he stares down at you. the dim light in the car casts shadows on his face and he looks so fucking good.

your breathing starts picking up as he kneels before you shirtless. he then starts to unstrap your wedged heels, carelessly throwing them into the backseat. you finally let out a moan when he grabs your hips and forces you to slide down your seat and your thighs fall open.

“fuck, you smell so good,” simon grunts and buries his face between your thighs to mouth and nose at your covered cunt. he licks and sucks through the fabric, further getting it wet with his saliva. “taste like fuckin’ heaven.” he’s quick to slide your panties down and hoists your dress up to pool around your hips, fully exposing your bare cunt to his eyes and his eyes only.

“s-simon,” you whimper softly, eyebrows drawn and lips parted. the ache in your core began to hurt. your hips bucked and your thighs twitched. you didn’t know what you wanted. his hot, messy tongue. his long, powerful fingers. or his thick, hard cock. all you can utter is, “please.” please, anything.

immediately, he bows his head and licks a hot stripe from asshole to clit. he focuses more on your clit. he widens his tongue and uses his big hands to hook underneath your knees to press them into your chest. the wet slurps and hot puffs of air all over your messy pussy has you keening with uncontrollable twitches.

“ooh fuck, fuck, oh my god!” you grab onto his wide wrists, manicured nails digging into the skin for some stability. “fuck me. please, fuck me!”

when your voice gets all high pitched and whiny, simon knows it’s go-time. with one hand reaching down to expertly unbutton and slide down his slacks, he uses his other hand to spread your thighs open. your right foot rests on the window ledge. with the dim lighting and the rain pattering on the car roof, everything about this was romantic. simon lowers his head and gives your lips messy, hard kisses. all tongue. all teeth. heavy breathing and hushed moans. you tasted your slick and a hint of wine on his tongue. if that wasn’t the perfect combination, you didn’t know what was.

“you ready f’me?” his voice is so gruff and thick with lust. he taps the head of his leaking cock on your messy cunt. the lewd noises made you want to cover your face from embarrassment of how wet you are. “hm? ‘s this little cunt ready f’me to fuck her?” god, the things he says would be enough to make a deaf nun cry. but you didn’t care. you ached for him, everywhere.

“plea-please, si,” you weakly whimpered. your body was on fire and you were close to tears. wetness made your lashes clump and you sniffled softly. “need you. need it bad. need you.”

he tuts. he actually tuts. and the condescending smile he sends you makes you all the more embarrassed as your cunt leaked even more slick. “poor angel,” he croons and grins wolfishly. “poor, poor baby.”

and then finally, finally, he dips the head inside your pathetic little hole. and inch by inch, he slides in and then slides back out. he slides in again a little more and slides out again. the teasing torture was enough to make you start crying. simon’s arms wrapped around your trembling frame and he allows you to bury your face in his bare shoulders. you’re hugging his big, beefy body to yourself, your hands desperately holding onto his sides.

“i-i can’t ta-take it! fuck me, please, please, simon, please.” you’re babbling incoherently, sobbing softly into his skin and curling your toes as he grinds his cock up and down your cunt before finally sliding all the way in.

“there we go,” he coos in your ear. “there’s my girl.”

almost instantly, the sobbing stops and is replaced with garbled moans and punched gasps. your lips are open on his shoulder and drool slowly begins to seep out. you hug him closer as warmth explodes throughout your entire body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“‘m y’girl,” you can barely form a coherent sentence.

“that’s right,” simon huffs, now starting to work his hips faster against yours. “my good girl.”

his hips smack into yours, his thickness filling you repeatedly. over and over and over again. the lewd wet noises of your slick leaking onto his balls and maybe his thighs has your cheeks flaming up. simon pounds into you, forcing every moan out of your chest and spilling from your lips, no matter how bad you wanted to quiet them as you two were still in the car and anybody could pull up. everything felt so good. he starts speeding up his thrusts, now pounding into you at an alarming speed and causing you to scream hoarsely in the small space. and then he slows to a grinding halt.

“mm, mm, mm,” you whimpered in his shoulder, tears freely sliding down your cheeks from the excessive pleasure you're receiving with little kisses of pain.

simon hears your reaction and does it again, this time creating a rhythm. he’ll fuck into you at a high speed and then slow down. he feels your tits bouncing against his chest and the way your swollen clit is continuously bumping against his pelvis.

“yeah,” he grunts in your ear, tightening his arms around your non-stop shaking body. “fuckin’ take my fuckin’ cock.”

your eyes slowly cross as he slows again, only fucking you with deep, slow, grinding thrusts. you’re 100% sure you’re leaking onto the seat right now. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were. simon’s cock was heaven and hell. you were obsessed. addicted, even. it look a lot of practice for you to take every inch in the early stages of your relationship. he made sure to take his time training your cunt into swallowing his hardness. simon pulled up just enough to capture your lips in a hot, messy kiss. he grinds deep inside, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix deliciously. your hands desperately grasped the sides of his face, your tongue sloppily entering his mouth and circling around his.

“can’t get ‘nough of you” simon grumbles. he keeps kissing and kissing as he grinds his hips in slow, deep circles. “my wife is jus’ so fuckin’ needy, eh?” the subtle cockiness in his tone had your pussy clenching. he grins at that and pistons his hips, fast and hard and unrelenting.

“ah! ah! ah! aaah!” you squealed and scratched down his back. you’ve been on edge for however long. time was nonexistent and this was torture. you needed that final nudge. a certain thing that helped the rollercoaster of euphoria finally crash down from the tip of the hill. “n-need.. cum. need.. n-need to cu-um!” god, you probably sounded so pathetic.

simon grunts every time he delivers hard thrusts that would’ve made your entire body slide up the seat if it weren’t for his arms wrapped around you. your thighs twitched non-stop. your toes curled and repeatedly thumped against the window. clinging onto your husband, your moans start getting more high pitched and drawn out as you got closer and closer, but simon knew what you needed. he always knew what you need. he pulls back enough to direct his attention to your neglected clit, so puffy and swollen and glistening in your slick from having no attention paid to it. simon slows his hips again and grinds to a slow halt once more. his cock throbs as your walls twitched and tightened around him, eagerly sucking him deeper.

“you poor, poor girl,” he tuts, splaying a large hand over your tummy and humming pleased as he feels the bulge of his cock nestled deep inside. “jus’ need my thumb, eh?” with the first swipe, your nails dug deeper into his skin and your thighs nearly shut. and from that reaction, simon knew it was time to finally let his beautiful wife cum.

and for the last time, his hips smack against yours at a fast speed, pounding and fucking as if tonight was the end of the world and you two had to say goodbye to each other. when his thumb lays against your clit, rubbing circles at the same rhythm of his quick hips, the dam finally broke. your body forcibly arched and your head slides between the seat and the backseat window. simon forces your thighs to keep spread open and grunts into your throat as your pussy contracts around his cock. all of your moans kept spilling out - you couldn’t stop them even if you tried. it was like electricity was coursing through your body. the wave of euphoria crashed at an alarming speed and you’re sure you’re screaming, but it sounds like you’re underwater. simon was stunned, in all honesty, at how hard you came. and you just won’t stop.

“agh!” he grunts and pulls his thumb away from your overly sensitive clit. he instead wraps his arms back around your trembling body and does three good, hard thrusts before the knot tightened and tightened and he spills inside of you. he grinds deep and slow, making sure none is wasted and is settled thickly inside your womb.

heavy breathing and weak moans echo in the car. the heavy rain slowed to a gentle drizzle. your thighs couldn’t stop twitching. simon lowers his head and kisses your pulse point so very gently, humming pleased when you sign contently. he kisses the side of your face tenderly, tracing a line from your pulse, up to your soft jaw, and then your plushy cheek. your breathing finally slowed and you lift your head to look up at simon. a bead of sweat slid down his temple and you had half a mind to lick it away. the two of you look into each other’s eyes and there wasn’t a single thing that could make you look away. and there wasn’t a single thing that could ruin this moment. simon had to swallow down the lump in his throat.

“d’you realize jus’ how much i love you?” he asks you quietly, head tilting to brush his strong nose against yours. “i would go to the ends of the earth f’you.”

at this whisper of a confession, you sniffle and let out a watery laugh, a lonesome tear sliding down your cheek that is quickly wiped away by his thumb. he leans down and hovers his lips over yours. you take the last step and curl your fingers into his hair to pull him down. when your lips touched, it felt like everything disappeared at that moment. the two of kissed and kissed until you needed air. and even though, you would take gulps of air and find his lips again. his cock was still snug deep inside. even soft, he still had some length and weight to him. but you loved this. it made you feel more connected to each other. the rain had stopped completely now. you both broke your kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting. simon lightly thumbs at your lip to wipe it away.

“now, lets get you home.”

[fic-over-cannon]

Come Home Soon

jason todd x gn!reader

rating: general | wc: 780

inspired by this ask

Jason Todd’s never really gotten over the shock of having you in his life. He pinches himself sometimes, just to check, uncertain sometimes that this is all real. That the neat way you’ve inserted yourself into his life isn’t just an errant daydream too perfect to be true. 8 months it’s been and the butterflies in his stomach are still alive as ever.

Gotham’s been more…chaotic than usual these past few weeks. Arkham’s latest breakout has been a shit show he’d never like to repeat, thank you very much. Jason’s been half dead on his feet from all the extra patrols he’s been doing at the Bats’ requests, damage control spilling into the small hours of the morning. It’s almost a relief then, when you get invited on a road trip out of town. For a little while the constant fear that he won’t be there, that danger will come scratching at your door while he is caught unawares in a different part of the city, will be put to rest.

He is happy, then, to see you off. Presses kisses to your cheeks and reminds you to call when you arrive with a smile on his face. The relief lasts the length of time it takes for your car to disappear into traffic. It dawns on him then, that this will be the longest time you’ve spent apart since he had worked up the trembling courage to ask you out. The apartment feels hollow, without you as its living, breathing heart. There’s no music playing in the kitchen and the side table by the couch isn’t littered with your forgotten cups of tea. Half of your products are gone from the bathroom, empty holes littering the countertop. Jason doesn’t realize how much space you occupy in his life by simply existing until all of that emptiness is staring back at him.

He wonders just how far you’ve driven by now. If you’d had to stop for extra gas and if you’d chosen a sweet or savoury snack for the last half of the journey. He wonders if you have a road trip playlist or if you’d mind making one together. The two of you don’t go driving in a car often, no, Jason prefers the wind of his bike and the warmth of you at his back too much. But he thinks that he might like making exceptions for you.

It’s bittersweet, then, thinking of your life without him. You wouldn’t be half so good with using a taser as you are now. Wouldn’t know the combinations and routes for a dozen contingency plans. As he sits in that apartment so changed by your influence and pictures you winding down some country road, he thinks about the ways he’s shaped your life. Gotham’s just one city in the grand scheme of the world but every moment you’re in it, your life is at risk. Not just because of your love for him, but any stray bullet or dose of fear toxin would take you away just the same. There’s whole countries out in the world that he knows you’d love that aren’t all trying to kill you in gruesome and horrible ways. More, if you go without him.

The vibrations of his phone in his pocket shake him from his reverie. It’s your contact photo, the one you’d stolen his phone to take, that smiles up at him.

“Hiya, baby!” your voice is more cheerful than he’d expected. “We just got in for the night, you wouldn’t believe how bad traffic was getting out of the city. Actually wait, you remember that…”

He doesn’t remember the anecdote, but he appreciates the sounds of your voice washing over him. For the first time all day, he feels settled in his skin. The apartment doesn’t feel so empty with your voice filling it.

“Oh and Jason, if Mrs. Dudek down at the market is selling packzi this weekend could you pick some up?” It’s the offhanded nature of your request that cements in his mind that you’re coming back. That you’ve always been planning to come back. It soothes that little part of him that still wonders if all of this will dissolve like spun sugar on the tongue. That for all the troubles he’s brought to your door, you still choose to come home to him.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, I’ll swing by and grab some if she’s there. No guarantee they’ll all still be in the box by the time you get back.”

“Get two boxes then, you pastry fiend.” you laugh, affection colouring your voice. “I miss you and I’ll be home soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he says simply.

[laneywrld]

warm, buttery, and soft | Lewis Hamilton

request: I have a LH44 request! So, I’m a BCBA, I work with children who have autism and my dream is have my own clinic one day. I have a request where maybe Lewis is with a BCBA, who has her own practice, maybe with a back story of how they met at a charity event for her grand opening? Maybe he decided to venture out his charitable contributions and became interested in what she does? Romance, all the feels :)

word count: 2.3k

warnings: none

Lewis had more money than he knew what to do with.

He'd still accept it graciously, but he couldn't help but feel that he could be doing more with the funds he'd earned. He always felt as if he could offer his many resources to many different causes.

He had started mission 44, and still, he felt like he wasn't doing enough.

Lewis had always been driven by a deep desire to make a meaningful impact in the world. After years of dedication to his passion projects, he felt it was time to expand the reach of Mission 44, his organization dedicated to empowering underserved communities. He wanted to invest in something truly transformative, and it was a conversation with an old friend that set him on the right path.

One evening, over a cup of coffee, his friend Michael shared a heartfelt story about his autistic son, Josiah. "There's this incredible clinic," Michael said, his eyes lighting up. "It's run by Y/N, a BCBA. Her work with autistic children has been nothing short of miraculous for us. Jojo has made so much progress thanks to her."

Intrigued, Lewis asked for more details. Michael explained how Y/N's clinic provided personalized therapy and support, creating a nurturing environment where children like Josiah could thrive. It was a place of hope and transformation, and it resonated deeply with Lewis's vision for Mission 44.

Determined to learn more, Lewis arranged a visit to the clinic. When he arrived, he was immediately struck by the warm and welcoming atmosphere. The walls were adorned with colorful artwork created by the children, and the air was filled with laughter and a sense of purpose.

Sadly, you weren't there when he arrived. Lewis really wanted to connect with you. But you were certain to make sure he was taken care of in your absence.

As Lewis toured the facility, he saw firsthand the incredible progress the children were making. Therapists and staff members were deeply engaged, using innovative techniques to support the children's development. It was clear that this was more than just a clinic—it was a community of care and compassion.

Inspired by what he had seen, Lewis knew he had found the perfect partner for Mission 44. He decided to invest in your clinic, providing the resources needed to expand your reach and impact. Together, you two envisioned opening new branches in underserved areas, ensuring that more children and families could benefit from the transformative care you and your team provided.

With this partnership, Mission 44 took a significant step forward, amplifying its mission to empower and uplift. Lewis was filled with a sense of purpose and fulfillment, knowing that your combined efforts would create a brighter future for countless children and families.

And so, with a shared vision and unwavering dedication, Lewis and you embarked on a journey to bring hope, healing, and empowerment to the world, one child at a time.

And this was all without ever meeting each other.

You were a busy woman, and when you did have free time, it was spent with your kids. Your kids being the children you work with of course. So tonight was meant to be special. An ordeal that certainly meant a lot to you.

You would be meeting Sir Lewis Hamilton for the very first time in person. The two of you had communicated over the phone and through emails, but you had not had the chance to sit with him face-to-face, until tonight.

It'd been a year since this endeavor started, and already, the funding Lewis provided had shown its hand and made your mission all the more achievable.

Tonight, you were having a gala.

You were against the idea initially, telling your assistant to reconvene with Lewis' team. You wanted funds to help autistic children, you wanted an event that reflected that.

But Lewis came up with a good point, you wanted to ask a bunch of rich people to invest in you and your goals, to do that, you had to speak to them in a language that they understood, money.

So here you were, a beautiful gown adorning your frame, that was much too elegant and flashy than what you were used to.

You were standing off to the side, watching as the team organized the smaller details. Your hands are placed in front of you, fingers fidgeting with the others as you will your nerves away.

This was not your scene. You weren't used to the flashy life nor did you care for it, so the fact that you would be surrounded by millionaires and a select few billionaires and people with status simply because of your business ties with such a prominent figure in the world of money and fame, well it made you nervous.

Lewis arrived at the clinic a few minutes early, feeling a mix of anticipation and curiosity. He had seen pictures of you online and read about your remarkable work, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment he saw you in person.

From across the hallway, he saw you before you noticed him. The pictures did you no justice. You were more beautiful than any photograph could capture. Your presence was radiant, your smile warm and genuine. Lewis couldn't help but be captivated by your grace and the effortless way you carried herself. He was about to approach you when the door to your left swung open.

In poured a group of children, dressed in colorful gowns and suits, their faces beaming with excitement. Lewis watched as your eyes widened with delight and your lips spread into a grin wider than the universe. The children, your clients, rushed to surround you, their joy palpable. Some stayed a little further back, shy but eager to be close to you.

Lewis stood back, observing the scene. He saw the way you interacted with each child, your demeanor filled with kindness and understanding. You bent down to their level, speaking softly to those who needed it, and laughed with those who were more exuberant. You were careful and considerate, aware of each child's unique needs and sensitivities due to their autism.

One little girl tugged at your sleeve, and you responded with a gentle touch and a few whispered words that brought a smile to the girl's face. A boy who had been standing off to the side finally mustered the courage to step forward, and you greeted him with the same warmth and attention, making him feel just as special as the rest.

Lewis was moved by the sight. It wasn't just your beauty that struck him now, but the depth of your compassion and the genuine love you had for these children. He realized that your work was more than a profession; it was a calling, a true testament to your character.

As the children slowly dispersed, you stood up and finally noticed Lewis. Your eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. You approached him with that same radiant smile, extending your hand in greeting.

"Hi, you must be Lewis," you said, your voice as warm as your smile.

Lewis took your hand, feeling a spark of connection. "Yes, that's me. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. Your work here is incredible."

Your eyes twinkled with gratitude. "Thank you, Lewis. I'm glad you're here. This wouldn't have been possible without your support. Can I show you what we have so far?"

Lewis accepts, walking with you as you point out the many attractions for your guest. As you walk, you speak more to Lewis about your work, your passion for your work evident in your every word. You explained how you had started the clinic with the goal of providing comprehensive, individualized care for autistic children. "Each child is unique," you said, "and we tailor our approach to meet their specific needs. It's about helping them reach their full potential. Most of all, showing them unconditional love and acceptance."

"I think you're doing an amazing job." Lewis compliments, "Can I ask, why autistic children? What made this your dream?"

You let out a chuckle, "You ever read those books about the pig, Mercy Watson? She goes crazy over buttered toast?"

Lewis laughs and shakes his head, "Can't say I have."

"Well, in these books, there's a talking pig who does a lot of crazy stuff really for buttery toast. I used to read these books to my brother. He was obsessed with them. I used to just read them to him over and over every night, thinking, you know, of course, a story about a pig causing absolute destruction for food would entertain a boy." As you talk, you're waving your hands around, describing the elaborate storyline of the children's book.

"Anyways, my brother was autistic, high functioning, but you know there were still things that made him different than others, ways that he couldn't fit in no matter what, and I grew to realize okay, this book has to be his hyper fixation, like he doodled Mercy Watson everywhere. Or like cute little toast, and for a while, all he ate was toast for weeks." You chuckle, and Lewis laughs with you.

"Then one day, I'm a freshman in high school, and my brother has started his first day of middle school, and he just, it was bad for him, so bad. And I wanted to help, so I tried to read the books for him and he just got angry and said it wasn't true, and I was left trying to figure out what he meant. It bothered me for so long, I spent weeks rereading those books, you hear me, weeks."

You look distressed as you recant the memory and Lewis can only imagine how frantic you were when it actually happened.

"And then it just clicked for me. The buttery toast isn't fucking toast. The damn toast is a feeling. Warm, soft, and buttery. Mercy Watson is a pig. She feels buttery with her family and warm, cozy, and accepted. It's a feeling she's chasing. And maybe I'm wrong, but to him, the book highlighted his need to be accepted, to feel community. My brother deserved to be loved for who he was, unconditionally."

"Is that why you have so many piglet paintings in your clinic?"

You let out a laugh that starts from a snort. "Yeah. My little piggies."

"You've got a beautiful heart, you know that?"

"Thank you." You drop your head as if to hide your shyness from the man.

As they walked through the clinic, Lewis couldn't shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something extraordinary.

"You should let me take you out to dinner, discuss more on how to get the toast to all of the little piglets in the world, and maybe discuss another dinner, too?"

"I'd love that."

Three years had passed since that charity gala for your clinic, the night you first met Lewis. You remember how he approached you with a warm smile, expressing his admiration for your work. He had insisted on taking you out for dinner, and that evening turned into many more, each one deepening the connection between you.

Now, you stand in the nursery, a gentle smile on your lips as you admire the freshly painted walls. Small, cute little piglets dance across the pale yellow background, a whimsical design that Lewis insisted on because he remembered how you loved piggies, a love sparked by your brother's fondness for the book that changed your outlook on life.

The room is filled with the promise of new life, a testament to the love that has blossomed between you.

You gently place a hand on your growing belly, feeling the fluttering movements of your baby. The thought of becoming parents fills you with a mixture of excitement and wonder. Lewis walks into the room, his eyes lighting up as they meet yours. He crosses the room in a few strides and places a tender kiss on your forehead, his hand joining yours on your belly.

"You’re going to be the best mom," he says, his voice filled with admiration. "I can’t wait to meet our little one."

Lewis has always seen you as the sweetest soul in the world. Your compassion, kindness, and unwavering dedication to your work and family have captured his heart completely. He often tells you that being with you feels like coming home—warm, soft, and buttery, just like toast. It's the only feeling you've ever had when it comes to Lewis: a deep, comforting love that fills every corner of your life.

Your relationship with Lewis is a harmonious blend of mutual admiration and profound affection. He has not only embraced you but also formed a close bond with your brother. Lewis took the time to understand your brother’s world, it was a connection that brought you immense joy and deepened your love for Lewis.

As you and Lewis stand in the nursery, imagining the future with your child, you feel a profound sense of contentment. Engaged and set to be married in a year, your journey together has been nothing short of extraordinary.

"I love you," you whisper to Lewis, feeling the baby move beneath your hands.

"I love you too," he replies, his eyes shining with emotion. "And I love our little family, more than words can say."

At that moment, surrounded by the playful piglets on the walls and the warmth of Lewis's embrace, you feel a sense of completeness. Your love story is like toast—warm, soft, and buttery—filling your life with sweetness and comfort. It's a love that grows even stronger with each passing day and a warmth that spreads just the same.

oh my god, i loved this request, and a huge thank you for you and the work you do, this hit very close to home, and I loved writing every word of it!! also, I'm not really good at writing anything that's not angsty I don't think. so I apologize in advance for the cringe omg. I tried to make it romantic I really did. 😭

[forlix]

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬・l.f.

— "if you smell the same as someone, you'll have some peace of mind."

words・1k pairing・felix x gn!reader genres・hurt/comfort, established relationship warnings・detailed descriptions of an anxiety episode

a/n・ inspired by this thing lix said in an ep of skz code and my favorite line from natsume souseki’s kokoro. i hope this can provide u with some solace; love u

When you slip into your side of the bed, Felix feels a touch of cool air from the duvet being lifted off the mattress, but it’s quickly nullified by your body’s warm pressure against his as you tuck yourself into his side. He looks at you, shrouded in one of his old hoodies, glasses halfway down the bridge of your nose, one hand patting down the blanket around your legs and the other holding your phone to your face as you scan over a text.

This is far from the first time you’ve spent the night at his place, and even further from the first time his anxiety has made itself known beyond just its ceaseless simmering beneath his skin. Yet, it is the first time the two events have happened in simultaneity, and he finds himself wondering if he should tell you about the unmistakable tightness pulling at his ribs or the winding coil waiting to snap behind his eyes.

An answer follows as quickly as the question surfaces, though. You haven’t been dating long, but in only three days short of six months Felix has learned that he could cut his heart open over your hands and you’d still find a way not to spill a drop of his blood. That is the extent to which your love makes him feel safe, secure, sacred; the extent to which he believes in your ability to protect his soul, even when it isn’t something unseen and external bombarding his defenses but the most familiar enemy of all. One that bears his name and wears his face.

“Baby,” Felix says, and your fingers still over your screen. As does your heart, when you see his quivering lips and unblinking eyes.

Your phone falls upon the blanket with a soft thud.

Scrawled all over the lines of your face is the worry that Felix was so reluctant to cause, but the way your eyes soften as you look at him now is a perfect replica of how they did that time you took him stargazing on the roof of your apartment building, and breathing becomes marginally easier right away.

“What’s happening?” You whisper, your fingers swift but so careful as they find and slide over his wrist. “How can I help, angel?”

Shakily, blindly, Felix’s hand chases yours under the sheets, and your palms have hardly touched before you’re completing his unspoken sentence. You lace your fingers with his, their pads fluttering against the back of his hand, and this gives him the strength to utter, to plead—

“Hold me?”

Your free hand moves to graze the curve of his cheekbone, then to hold his nape. Then, with a flourish of movement that Felix hardly registers, you lift yourself to straddle his lap and tighten your arm where it curls around his neck, drawing him so gently into your embrace that he can all but evanesce against you.

Time ceases to exist. What proceeds is simply warmth: your hands and mouth pressing life back into his body with every sweep through his hair and “I’ve got you” upon his ear; his face gone in the cluster of fabric that marks the beginning of your hood, his hand pushing beneath the heavy cotton to seek out your bare back, his breaths timed to the quiet heartbeat he finds there.

The two of you spend what feels like multiple lifetimes locked together in this fashion.

It is somewhere towards the end of life number three that Felix realizes, dimly, arbitrarily, that you don’t smell like anything.

You’ve always come with something, be it the aromatic remnants of your childhood home that you’ve never quite outgrown, the fragrance you always dab behind your ears before leaving the house, or the telltale shampoo-conditioner combination you’ve been using for years. But right now, there is no discernible scent attached to your skin or your clothes; no olfactory indications of your person, your presence.

This surprises Felix so thoroughly that it seals his windpipe closed for a few seconds. It’s as if he’s lost something he never realized was precious until only after it’s slipped from his grasp, and the notion nearly sends him on a new spiral entirely, nearly undoes the progress that you’ve so tenderly helped him make since settling upon his thighs.

But then you shift, and, in a manner reminiscent of brushing thick, tangled vines out of the way to read an ancient stone plaque, Felix skims the tip of his nose over the hollow of your throat, and it is there that he finds the subtle scents of you that he thought he’d forfeited. And his next realization not only pries his lungs open again but brings a much-needed rush of oxygen back into them.

It is his bodywash that you used in the shower and his garment that you slipped into right after drying off. It is his blanket that you’re currently folded together in and his dormitory that you’ve carried a spare key to for weeks now. It's his hands and lips that dote constantly on your neck and waist and shoulders and anywhere they can reach like poppies vying for homes in cracked cement.

It’s not that you don’t smell like anything. It’s that you smell like him. 

Like us.

Felix knows well that anxiety is too fickle a creature to ever leave for good, but when this thought occurs to him he senses the foul apparition waver for once.

He starts to unravel himself from you after life number seven, and you expel your relief in the form of a sigh when you pull away and see the faint smile on your boyfriend's face; sense the stable in, out of the chest your hands rest upon.

The puff of air is quickly sucked back in, though, when Felix presses his lips to the underside of your jaw; to the point of your chin; to the apple of your cheek; and, at last, directly to yours. The kiss begins tense and unmoving, still riddled with the tonnage of his burden, but then his hand cradles your face with all the ardor of thank you, and his tears taste like the words I love you when they land on your tongue.

And it is perfect, as is he.

🔖 (send an ask or reply to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[teddypickrwritings]

The Beautiful Moonlight - Night Watch x Reader

A/N: Mainly inspired by Ithaqua’s 6th anniversary quote! I referenced some of his other quotes too. This can be platonic or romantic!

Oletus Manor was no stranger to big and lavish events. This party was no exception—everyone who had visited or stayed at the manor in the past had been invited to celebrate its 6th anniversary of hosting daring survival games.

The impostor syndrome was kicking in for you. You had only been a guest at the manor for about a month and participated in a fairly small amount of games. There were so many people you still had yet to make acquaintances with.

Simply put, you felt like you shouldn’t be here.

A whirlwind of chatter was enveloping your mind. Combined with the symphony of clattering and clanking dishes, it was all getting to be too much for you to handle. You slipped out of the dining hall without anybody noticing or caring to stop you.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips. A sandbag had been lifted off your chest. Maybe you should go outside and-

“(Y/N)?”

A soft voice made you jump. You turned to come face-to-face with the Night Watch, or Ithaqua as you had heard some people call him. It was slightly comforting to see a familiar face—er, mask—but maybe ‘comforting’ was pushing it. You had had only one match against him and his eerily playful giggles had unnerved you greatly.

“That is your name, right?” Ithaqua asked.

“That’s right,” you said slowly as your heartbeat settled back to normal.

He looked at the set of doors that you came out of. Everyone’s voices were still loud enough to be heard, but were thankfully muffled. “Why aren’t you in there?”

“I could ask you the same,” you said with a polite smile.

Ithaqua tilted his head, and you hoped that you hadn’t made a mistake with your little quip. “I don’t like socializing very much,” he said plainly.

You nodded, relieved. “It can be overwhelming at times. That’s why I stepped out,” you explained.

“I think it’s also such a waste to hold a party in here,” Ithaqua said with a sigh. “The moon is so beautiful tonight. We should all be basking in its light.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “I’m guessing you prefer nighttime?”

Ithaqua let out one of those soft chuckles of his. But in this setting, it didn’t creep you out nearly as much. “Would you like to come along with me to see it?”

His request caught you off-guard. But this was a chance for you to become acquainted with him; after all, you should “keep your enemies close” as the saying goes. So you nodded after a bit of hesitation and followed him out to the gardens.

It didn’t occur to you once you both stepped in the darkness that he could kill you. A sense of dread overtook you as you realized this was the perfect time for him to strike. Everyone was inside.

Nobody would hear you.

But Ithaqua made no indication that he was going to strike. His stilts did not impede his smooth gait in the slightest despite the terrain changing from hard floor to soft grass. He crossed over to a smooth marble bench and sat down, staring at you expectantly.

You swallowed your fear and joined him in looking up at the night sky. Ithaqua was right—the moon was beautiful. A shining pearl in a sea of stars. No clouds in sight to ruin the breathtaking view.

A strange instinct overtook you, and you stretched your arm upwards. Your hand barely fit inside the moon.

Ithaqua’s soft giggles reminded you that you had company. You quickly lowered your arm as heat spread across your face.

“I am glad that you appreciate the moon like I do,” Ithaqua laughed. But there was no malice in his voice. “It was one of the few bright things in my forest…”

You smiled. “Thank you for asking me to join you. I was, um…looking forward to meeting you since our match together.”

Ithaqua stared at you intensely again. “What exactly were you looking forward to meeting…?”

Your embarrassment became greater. “I’m…not sure. But I want to have a friend,” you confessed. “I barely know anyone…”

The masked man hummed as he considered your words. “Ah, I see…I understand how you feel.”

His answer surprised you. “Really?”

Ithaqua looked back up at the moon. “I said earlier that I didn’t like socializing. But you…I remember you very well from our match. And that is why I sought you out.”

It had been strange for him to approach you, but you were glad to hear his reasoning. You took a deep breath and turned your body slightly so you were facing him more directly. “If that’s the case, then how about we be friends?” you asked boldly.

The ears of Ithaqua’s hood swayed a bit with how fast he turned his gaze back onto you. Your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in; in that moment, you were the piece of prey that the hunter was pondering whether to pounce on or not.

“How about I make it so you can never say you want to meet anyone ever again?” he asked with a menacingly playful lilt.

He’s definitely going to kill me now, you thought as a clawed hand emerged from his cloak. You couldn’t help but scoot away from him out of fear.

But instead of striking, his hand raised to his mask and pulled it off. It surprised you how…normal he looked. Granted, his eyes were pitch-black with almost ghostly-looking blue irises. But aside from that, he looked like a normal young man with messy pale hair falling into his face.

His small grin widened a bit when you said nothing. “Did you think I was going to kill you just now?”

“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly. What else were you supposed to think?

Ithaqua laughed. “Just because I am a hunter? I would not do something like that unless you gave me a reason to, (Y/N)” he said. His smile became a bit eerie as ne leaned closer to you. “Something like…telling everyone you saw my face…?”

Your eyes widened. “I would never!”

“Good, good…friends have secrets, yes? So this will be ours,” he mused. He straightened back up and returned his gaze to the moon yet again, closing his eyes as the moonlight made his alabaster skin almost luminescent.

Ithaqua was definitely a force to be reckoned with. And it would probably be some time before your heart would stop racing with fear around him.

But in that moment, as you watched his face become peaceful and his smile become content, you knew that you could trust him.

[beausprouts]

PLEASEEEE GIVE US THE LORE TIMELINE FOR UR AU

WELL I MEAN IF YOU INSIST-

I made this timeline JUST FOR THIS MOMENT. More rambling under the cut if anyone is curious 👍

So essentially I changed everything because I can. I've been in the fandom since like the first game came out and I was a baby so it's my right to mold the lore to what I want thank you very much.

I essentially just condensed it. So FNAF 3 and the events of the Steel Wool era are combined. It makes sense to me that a company like the one that owns the Pizzaplex would use a literal real life murder spree to make a haunted house. Did you guys see the Scraptrap arcade cabinet? Yeah. Exactly.

I took inspiration from the movie with how Will was able to have a weird psychic connection to the kids, and controlled them in a way to how Henry's relationship with the missing children is in this continuity. He was essentially able to convince them it was Will that killed them. Only Charlie knows the truth, because she hasn't revealed herself to her father and pretty much saw everything happen (yikes). I like to think that Charlie and Will kind of team up similarly to how Henry and Mike team up in canon? A perfect mirror flip.

I'm toying big time with some twists, I do like the mimic as a villain but I haven't decided yet if I'm going to use him for this plotline. Maybe! Who knows maybe Henry never made it to his 70s and the current CEO was the mimic all along ooh spoookyyy.

My OC Beau essentially replaces Vanny as the partner in crime to Springtrap. Though this time the goal is to clear his name and to free the souls of the children. Vanessa is still around but nothing bad ever happens to her because she doesn't deserve it and I love her.

I want Michael to get out of the Sister Location spot under the Pizzaplex and become a minor antagonist too because him, Evan, and Elizabeth all also blame William for what happened, what reason would they have to believe otherwise its fair.

So yeah y'know, drawing my stupid oc being silly with Springs ended up getting its own lore bible my bad. Autism moment.

[rbbrbikerthorp]

The Fitting Room Is This Way

I got the inspiration for this story from a GIF, which must have been a looped clip taken from a video called "Abducted". I used a generative AI platform to create a couple of the images - not bad for a first effort?

“Why don't you just try something on? I think it look like a second skin on you and will suit you very much. Here, the fitting room is this way…”

"Errrrrrm," was about all I could muster as a reply. I tore my eyes away from the rails of black and multicoloured rubber that had absorbed my attention for more minutes than I care to say. I turned my head to see what I can only describe as an attractive young male with orange and green hair, multiple piercings and more tattoos than I'd ever seen on a body. I'm not usually stuck for words, but this time I was.

It was the first time I'd ever crossed the threshold of any adult store, let alone a fetish store. I was actually on a business trip to the city for a couple of days to meet with a bunch of different customers. I'd arranged to meet one of them for dinner this evening, but something had come up and they had to cancel. With time on my hands, my curiosity got the better of me. I walked the short distance from the hotel into what people might describe as a 'seedy' part of the city and walked through one of two doorways that would change my life - forever.

"Look, you've been gawking at these garments for at least ten minutes, so something must have piqued your interest," the shop assistant said grinning in a somewhat sinister way.

The truth is he was absolutely right. I had a real fetish for rubber, but it wasn't something I could share. If I didn't use an incognito browser, a casual glance at my web history would show me landing on websites with videos and pictures of men in rubber and stories of men being turned into rubbermen, from beasts to slaves.

The assistant looked me up and down, "yes I can see why you are captivated by the rubber suits - so much more exciting than a business suit to wear, and it will hug and show off your best bits," he giggled to himself as he grabbed two or three suits off the rails.

"Right one of these will be perfect for you. It will feel like a second skin. So much so, that I don't think you'll ever want to take it off."

There was that ominous grin again.

"Follow me. It's this way to the fitting room"

He walked deeper into the basement and towards a set of dark doors. Was there a fitting room really this way? I'd never been in a fetish store before but I'd read a few stories about what was inside. He pushed on the door, it opened slowly. Very little light emanated from inside. “Come on”, he said jovially. I followed like a puppy dog follows its mother.

Inside the room I could just about make out the shapes of muscular men in shiny dark clothing. Several hands grabbed me, restraining me before I knew what was happening. At first I struggled against my captors but one came up to me and held a mask over my nose and mouth; I heard a hissing sound. I felt a kind of euphoria cone over me. My struggles evaporated and I allowed myself to be led deeper into the room. Now that I was next to these men I could tell they were wearing similar outfits to the ones I’d seen on the rails back in the shop, and their heads were enclosed in some kind of hood/gas mask combination.

I looked at the assistant standing there holding the rubber suits whilst I was stripped of my clothing. Now naked, they started rubbing what I can only describe as an oily cream all over me. One of the dark rubber-suited men walked over to the assistant, who handed him one one of the rubber suits. He walked back towards me and took the suit off the hanger. Two other lifted my left foot off the floor and he started sliding it in, then they put my foot back on the floor and he repeated the process with the right foot.

Then it was a simple process; to gently and very erotically guide the rubber suit all the way up my body. As they did they smoothed out any bumps, making sure the rubber clung to every millimetre of my body. Just before the suit covered my groin, I looked down to see one of the men fitting a device over my cock and felt another slide something into my arse. At first he struggled, so he squeezed something onto it and started pushing at my sphincter. At first it met a resistant from a hole that had only known 'one-way' traffic. suddenly I felt a ‘pop’ and my arse felt 'nice and full' (where did that come from).

The men carried on smoothing the rubber suit as they pulled it up my torso until it reached my chest. Then, one at a time my arms were fed into the suit. The shop assistant walked up to me and fitted what I can only describe as mitts over my hands. I stood there, a spectator in my own body, watching as the flesh was covered with black latex. Then the suit was zipped up to my neck. I felt a mild construction and heard a snap. The assistant walked around in front of me and held up a broken zip. His grin now a haunting smile.

Before I could react I felt something rubbery being brought to my face, I could see lenses and a place for my nose to fit in. I started breathing more rapidly as a sense of unease started to build. Despite my fears I allowed the men to fit the mask over my face, the mask seemed to be part of a hood because the next thing I sense was a zip being pulled from the top of my head down to meet the top of the suit at my neckline. My head now felt as  constricted as my body.

Through the lenses I could see my captors. Then I heard voices in my ears.  Mini speakers in the hood activated, “welcome brother, welcome to the nest. From here we grow, we spread, we convert and we conquer.”

There was just white noise now. The lenses darkened and my vision blacked out. Then instantly there were spirals, shapes and words imprinted on the lenses. Voices in my head said, “Rubberdrone”, “obey”, “comply”, “convert”. Over and over the words bombarded my head until...nothing. My own thoughts stopped. The lenses cleared to let this newly created rubberdrone see the room again, the voices in my ears stopped. 

In front of me were half a dozen rubber drones lined up. To the side I could recognise the shop assistant. I instinctively knew to join at the back of the line. The assistant opened the door and we started moving forward.

[arecaceae175]

Gratitude Part 1: Wild

Summary: Eight times Sky receives a gratitude crystal from the chain plus one time he gives some away

WELCOME this is inspired by this post chain by @linkvcr and @somer-writes! I'm going to post each section on tumblr until they're all done, then I'll combine (and edit lol) them for AO3 :D

This one is based on and uses some dialogue directly from the woodcarver comic by @linkeduniverse

Part 2. ART!

Wind blew lazily through the trees, rustling the leaves pleasantly. One fell and floated down onto Sky’s lap. He brushed it away and it fell next to the pile of wood chips from his latest carving. He was essentially finished; even the decorations were done. He was chipping away at any imperfections he could find– and fixing any more he created– to keep his hands busy.

A bird chirped in the distance. Sky eagerly looked up and followed its path over the forest. It was so cool. Sky racked his brain for a word to describe how incredible the bird was, but couldn’t come up with anything more eloquent. He laughed softly to himself and turned his attention back to his carving. 

“What are you laughing at, birdbrain?” Legend asked. Sky smiled at the nickname. 

“True to my name, I was watching a bird. It was cool,” Sky said. 

“Of course you were,” Legend said, as his eyes roamed the skies to find the bird himself. Sky smirked. 

“Food’s ready!” Wild called. 

“Perfect timing!” Sky said. He blew a breath over the spoon to knock off the loose shavings, then wiped it down with a cloth. It was perfectly smooth.

Sky hopped to his feet and walked over to the group with the spoon hidden behind his back.

“Okay, so it’s a light meal today, since we had that amazing soup earlier. Rice and vegetables over here, and then there’s some meat if you want. Cucco in that bowl and deer in that bowl. But I put some vegetables with protein in, so you’ll be fine without those,” Wild explained, pointing to the bowls as he talked. “Oh, and no peppers.”

Sky felt a warm feeling in his chest. Wild put so much care into their meals and ensured they catered to everyone’s individual preferences. It wasn’t easy to make one meal that suited nine people from different backgrounds, but Wild made it work every time.

“Oh, I need a spoon for the rice. Um,” Wild turned to dig through his cooking supplies.

“How about this one?” Sky said. 

Wild turned around and his eyes widened in surprise as Sky held out the spoon. His mouth dropped open slightly as Sky pushed the spoon into his hands. 

“You made this?” Wild asked. 

“I did! For you,” Sky asked. “As a thank you for always making us such good food.”

“Wow!” Wild said. He held the spoon up to his face, closely inspecting the patterns. A spark of orange flickered to life above his head. It wasn’t quite a full crystal, but the sight made Sky smile warmly nonetheless.

“This is beautiful work,” Wild said. 

Sky beamed. “Thank you!” 

Wild’s face fell from its smile. Sky mirrored the expression and stepped closer. 

“What, what’s wrong? Do you not like it?” Sky asked. 

Wild frantically shook his head and his grip on the spoon tightened. “No, I love it! I’m just… what if I break it?”

“You probably will,” Sky said with a chuckle. Wild looked up at him with wide eyes full of worry.

“But that’s okay. It’s meant to be used. If you use it enough to wear it down, I’ll know I did a good job,” Sky said. 

“Are you sure?” Wild asked. 

“Promise,” Sky said. 

Above Wild’s head, the spark rapidly expanded into a full gratitude crystal. Sky watched it with awe as it floated over and into his chest, where its warmth spread throughout his body. Sky wiggled in happiness.

“Thank you, Sky. I love it,” Wild said. 

“You’re very welcome,” Sky said, his smile bright and wide. 

Next Part ->

EDIT 01/19/2024: THERE IS ART NOW!!!! This art by @linkvcr :DDDD

[wilted3sunflowers]

Pink Pearl: SOLD

Always thought of as a simple minded pearl who honestly to many outsiders never thought she was that great at being a quiet and follow you from behind type. Yet never seemed to be reprimanded much from Zebra Agate whom she was entrusted to. Currently she's thriving in this new Era 3 and on earth in Empire City. She was the one among this group to actually start the whole animal pattern print...kind of. Though technically it could be argued the pattern started with Zebra Agate but Pink Pearl conciously chose leopard print from seeing them on models in store window advertismenet and could not be more interested. On Homeworld theres very little patterns, only really lattice work or stripes of any kind or diamond checkerboard. No one really thought out- no one thought to look to organic beasts for fashion. Humans are so fascinating. Maybe thats what that Rose Quartz truly saw in them. How creative and vibrant they are. Comes with a past form too on toyhouse

Design Notes on Grey and Pink Pearl: Inspired first by Pink pearl's interest in 'animal pattern' which Grey is a pearl who excelled at being 'a pearl' sure she was never the most emotive, sing song-y type of pearl for entertainment yet what Zebra Agate needed was a pearl more of a secretary of keeping things on schedule and taking calls and what not. I also decided for this story a conscious effort that Pearls don't wear patterns. They're not of importance they are here to be simple, more softer colors typically and just to show they're a pearl. not some combination of gem type wearing another gems pattern. Also decided the same of course for Pink pearl for them being simple, run of the mill pearls even if Grey has a bit more to her past design it was only for the more authoritative feel that a pearl might have being under an *Agate* that terrifies Design notes on Pink lace: Due to corruption she is a lot more faded- not just from corruption but because her gem was more like that of the sand gem. Embedded in an object and only ever facing the sun. bleaching her gem of colors with too much exposure. She's a lot more polished in her currently look- i had a design ready for her just out of corruption look but then that would leave Zebra agate without a past form and decided to let the two non pearls without past forms. She of course used to be much more vibrant.

Design Notes on Zebra Agate: purposefully the inverse of typical zebra pattern on her clothes. with white stripes on black you can see that her hair itself is a regular part of black stripes on white like a typical zebra. also her design on her bodysuit is specifically to mimic a ribcage with zebra stripes

Zebra Agate: [Sold] "An Agate Terrifies" That's what Agates do. That's who Agates are. Subjugate those out of line and whip them into shape. They're here to make everyone stay in their proper places and follow rules. However I took her to completely go into the other direction of dealing with rules. The Punk movement appealing to her- if this is Era 3 and there is no need for her job role. Why should she keep trying to force a terrifying agate lifestyle? She may not be the kindest or most sweet Zebra Agate is however sentimental and more thoughtful than many- even pink lace considered her much more cold and rigid to expectations of what used to be common of gem society. While shes not an anarchist she has been delving into punk fashion but also the subculture to help her adjust to her new world and its views. She had always needed to follow rules blind and enforce them but due to the new order change. How else was she to find something that even acknlowedges no structure is perfect and many are flawed- even so her diamonds were flawed. Nothings perfect and nothing is without work to adjust.

Grey Pearl: SOLD A muted personality. What do you do when you used to know everything you were supposed to do? Living not in just a new era but an entire new world where you're allowed a lot more freedom that you never actually craved before. She's known Pink Pearl for thousands upon thousands of years and while there are some feelings of envy she would consider Pink Pearl to be her only friend. It's a complex mix of emotions like anyone would have especially towards Zebra Agate and the peculiar softness she seems to have for Pink Pearl that she has with no one else. Whilst never treated harshless it always was more of a cold wall from Zebra Agate that Grey Pearl felt. That this was strictly business relationship. Agate never even asked her to sing or dance- two components that make a pearl a pearl in many's eyes. Yet she's asked Pink Pearl to sing for her, and never stopped her from dancing without being asked. Grey Pearl may not have much of a relationship with Faded Pink Lace however she almost projects a sense of kinship of feelings left behind with her. In fact it was after Pink Lace Agate came back with those curated corruption spots that she decided to have some own markings herself. Humans have tattoos and while she can't get a traditional tattoo from humans she herself worked to get those marks on herself. She was the last one in the group to reform to this new Human lifestyle. Comes with a past form too on toyhouse

(Faded) Pink Lace: SOLD During the gem war she of course fought for homeworld and even was was part of the last charge. Of course, while she is more of the carefree type even she could see the dangers. Zebra was part of the task to pull out more of the aristocrats and Pink Lace part of the ground troops. Anything could happen so just as a precaution she sent her pearl away to Zebra Agate. Honestly, she expected that terrifying Agate to reset Pink Pearl for herself. It was a peculiar feeling for Pink Lace recognizing her pearl- even if it took only a moment before her Pearl recognized her. All so unevenly spotted and with sharp spiked growths coming out of her. She was a mess...Just how Zebra Agate used to scold her about. Her pearl still so lively and a bit oblivious to others feelings but even now so creative- such unique spots on her dress...theyre not even diamond shaped. Pink Lace at least knows to go with the flow of things but a good deal perceptive.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hiiiiiii

If it’s not too much trouble, could you do a platonic team star x team star member!reader who became a dragon type specialist squad leader and joined because they got bullied for being a fan of other famous dragon type users like Lance and Raihan?

(Sorry if this is too specific)

Oh no worries, I like specific so it's all good!

..........

"I'm gonna be just like them one day.." Sighing dreamily, you sat down at the cafeteria table, watching a video on your rotomphone while chowing down breakfast.

It was footage of a fierce Pokémon battle in Galar--a showdown between two of your idols, who were among the most famous dragon trainers of all time: Lance and Raihan.

Of course, you looked up to many other dragon type users in Paldea, but these two in particular kickstarted your dreams of becoming one yourself, inspired by their interviews and fierce determination.

You also hoped to meet them and have a battle, although that was a little too farfetched for you right now..

Yet you didn't let that discourage you from forming your own dragon team, using your studies at Uva/Naranja Academy to teach them all the best moves and remember type matchups.

Tatsugiri was your main partner, and when combined with your Dondozo..it was an absolute powerhouse in double-battles--albeit this academy usually focused on the traditional single battles.

You were also currently raising a Drakalok, Cyclizar, Arctibax, and Sliggoo, and you cherished all of them dearly. Tatsugiri was a bit of an attention hog at times, though, and always wanted to stay out of its ball and on your shoulder.

You didn't mind it, of course. Whether you're heading to class or to a tournament where dragon trainers were going to participate, you always went together.

Life was perfect.

Except for-

"Still prattling on about being the next famous dragon gym leader, huh?"

-one of your bullies already ruining your day before it could even begin.

For some reason..a few kids at the academy really had it out for you simply because you admired famous dragon trainers. You didn't think there was anything wrong with looking up to your idols. But apparently they thought you were being too "obnoxious" about it and sought to make your life utterly miserable.

It only got worse when you spoke up about it to a teacher, as that bully got off with nothing but a slap on the wrist--that being to train their Pokémon as "punishment".

By sheer convenience, they had ice and fairy types. And that teacher only gave them the chance to make their team stronger and further intimidate you...to the point where you're afraid to go outside, fearing they'll drag you into a battle.

You've kept silent since, hoping to avoid them at all costs and try to keep your grades up. But unfortunately, Arceus wasn't smiling upon you today...and quite frankly, you were tired.

Huffing, you switched off your phone and scowled up at the bully. "Still following me around campus, huh?" You mocked, with Tatsugiri hopping on the table and mimicking your expression. "That's kinda creepy if you ask me."

"Well those stupid fangs of yours are creeping everyone out." They sneered, pointing out your sharp teeth. "Halloween is over, y'know."

"I've already told you..these are canines, and they are real."

"Yeah? More like real freaky."

"Look, just leave me alone before you anger Tatsugiri." You warned, watching as their gaze shifted to your ace, falling silent for a moment or two...

Before erupting into laughter. "Oh wow, I'm soooooo scared of your stupid sushi roll! What ever will I do??" They shook their head. "If you want my advice, dump this thing and get yourself a real dragon. Like a Charizard or-"

"You don't get to decide WHO I can have as a partner!!!" Your hands slammed onto the table as you stood up, fists clenched with anger. Even though you could see people's heads turning in your peripheral vision, you didn't care. "Tatsugiri may not look it, but it's more powerful than you'll ever know! You don't know our bond, so just back off already!!"

"Oooooh, I didn't know you knew Outrage..better not hit yourself in confusion." They snickered.

"...why are you like this?" With slumped shoulders, you frowned at them. "Why do you keep tormenting me day after day?! I've done nothing to you. Is it a crime to admire my heroes? To wanna be like them?"

"No, but you'd be an embarrassment to every future dragon tamer. I mean who'd wanna see a pathetic thing like that in the Elite Four? Or on a Champion's team? Raihan and Lance would laugh in your face and crush you if they saw-"

"STOP IT!!" You finally snapped, hitting the table again before taking out one of your pokeballs. "Do you want a battle?! Is that what you want?!! Then you'll get it-!!"

"[Y/n], what is the meaning of this?"

Hearing the voice of the director made all the color drain from your face. The bully just smirked as you slowly turned to Harrington, seeing him looking at you with a frown.

"This is the second disturbance you've caused in this same area. You know battles aren't permitted inside the academy."

It's only then did you realize everybody in the cafeteria was staring..and you shrunk back in embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, Director. I didn't mean to shout. They were just-"

But when you tried to point out the bully, they were gone.

How convenient.

"From how it looks..you were intimidating them. And you should also know we have a zero tolerance policy for such behavior."

"But I wasn't..they-!" You tried in vain to defend yourself, yet the look on Harrington's face told you he didn't wanna hear any of it.

"We can discuss this further in my office. Return your Tatsugiri to its pokeball and follow me, if you will."

"....yes, sir." Defeated, you gathered your things and put Tatsugiri back into the pokeball (much to its dismay), before commencing the long walk of shame to the director's office.

Maybe he will believe you.

.......

"He didn't believe me either. What's the point of "standing up for myself" if I'm just gonna get in trouble?! What's the point if they're always gonna get away with it while I face suspension?!"

"Suu.."

"I know I kinda let myself go back there, but...th-they kept pushing me and pushing me! Why couldn't he understand that? Why doesn't anyone here understand-?!"

"Tasu!"

Calming yourself down a little, you looked to Tatsugiri, who sat on your bed and looked up at you with sad eyes, wishing you weren't being so harsh on yourself.

"....well, I know you understand me, buddy." You quietly sighed and sat down, bringing it into your hands as it nuzzled your cheek. Immediately your shoulders relaxed. "I'm sorry. Thank you. I'm just...it's been frustrating. But I swear I'll never replace you for any other dragon. Not even for a shiny Charizard."

"Yip-yip?!" It cried out.

"Believe me! I won't." You chuckled, although you stopped as you thought over this morning's events...

And suddenly you felt sick to your stomach.

Just thinking about going to your afternoon class today made you feel ill, wondering who was going to harass you two next...and if you'll be able to do anything about it without getting into trouble with the director.

Now that you've gotten your second strike, you had to be careful not to lash out like that again.

But what else were you supposed to do?

Let them continue to bully you around and make your poor partner feel absolutely worthless? How was that fair to either of you?

At this point, you've ran out of adults in this academy to talk to...besides the nurse, of course, although she seemed more adept at healing Pokémon than counseling students.

Even if she was willing to listen, you doubt anything would change.

Nobody here took your side or could possibly understand what you were going through-

"Roto-to-to~"

Your rotomphone started ringing, displaying an unknown caller ID. Normally you'd ignore it, although Tatsugiri had a better idea and decided to slap the screen with its fin, answering it.

"Tatsu!" You grumbled, pulling it away from your phone before addressing the stranger, feeling embarrassed. "Sorry! My Pokémon-"

"Greetings, am I speaking to [y/n]?"

".....uh...yeah?" Your eyebrows furrowed with confusion, not expecting to hear a distorted voice on the other end of the line. "And who am I speaking to exactly?"

"My name is Cassiopeia. Leader of Team Star."

"Team Star?" You blinked, remembering all of the rumors you've heard about this organization. They were a small group of kids who got bad grades, skipped school often...and sometimes harassed others into joining them or pulled pranks on teachers.

Why would their leader contact you?

Or better yet...how did they even get ahold of your number?

"Correct. We've been watching you for some time, and we see your pain. It must feel awful...being pushed around and intimidated all because you admire some famous trainers. And when you finally have the courage to defend yourself and your Pokémon...suddenly you're the bad guy? It's so unfair."

"How do you.....l-look, um..Cassiopeia. I got a lot going on right now." You mumbled, hoping to end this conversation quickly. "I'm facing suspension if I cause one more scene, so I don't think I should be talking to delinquents like-"

"That is a lie. Team Star isn't a group of delinquents. We're so much more than that." They interrupted you, sounding a bit annoyed. "The truth is that WE are the victims. We who were shamed and excluded for the crime of being ourselves. The system has failed us, [y/n], and we formed this group as a way to stand up and stand out."

"...ah, I see." Now you were growing a bit more understanding and sympathetic towards them. You always had a feeling that your classmates overexaggerated how "evil" this team really was, making comparisons to Team Rocket and organizations that were legitimately evil and criminal.

But obviously, you never put your two cents in. You were already getting bullied enough just for saying Lance and Raihan are cool dragon trainers you wished to meet.

You were already getting bullied enough just for admiring some famous dragon trainers.

"So...obviously you're trying to sell me something." You huffed, kicking your feet up on the desk. "You want me to join your team as one of your goons-?"

"Oh no. I actually have something much better in mind." Cassiopeia cut in once more. "We've seen how you battle with dragon types. Very impressive, I must say. You never back down from a challenge. You're fierce, protective..and you demonstrate incredible leadership."

That felt flattering to hear, considering all the times you've gotten criticized for your battling techniques during Ms. Dendra's class.

Recently, she actually made you apologize to your classmate, whose Pokémon was actively bullying yours and provoked it into using a powerful move that knocked it out in one hit.

Why was that such a problem?

Because you weren't supposed to be battling, but the bully kept pushing you into one--and of course, Ms. Dendra didn't see that part.

Only the part where you broke the "No-OHKO" rule she had written into her lesson plan for that day.

Now you were struggling to get your grades back up in battle strategies, which was hard since you gained a reputation as being "too aggressive"..when in reality you were just so afraid and fed up that no one would listen to you.

So hearing this complete stranger give you praise felt genuinely good.

"Oh! Ah...thank you." You decided to bite the bullet. "So what's your offer?"

"We believe you're a good fit to be a squad leader. We have one more slot available. Interested?"

Your heart immediately jumped at the opportunity, although part of you was still holding back.....wondering if it was worth getting mixed-up with people like Cassiopeia and Team Star's revered leaders.

This could very well throw away your entire future and your goals of becoming the next dragon type gym leader. You could be expelled for sure, or even blacklisted from partaking in tournaments.

But at the same time, you were so tired of living in fear and dealing with all of this alone.

Why should you have to? That's setting a terrible example for your Pokémon--they shouldn't have to see their trainer living like that. You had to be brave and stronger, but that was almost impossible if you were just going to suffer repercussions for trying.

Cassiopeia took your silence as hesitation. "I know this is a lot to think about. But trust me, [y/n]. Team Star can do more for you than the Academy ever did. You'll get to train without limits. Your name will be known by all, and nobody will mock you or Tatsugiri ever again. That is what you want, isn't it? To grow stronger together? To stand up against those who wronged you?"

Hearing them mention your partner made you look to the Mimicry Pokemon in your lap. Seeing the way they put their fin on your hand and gave you a small nod ultimately solidified your answer.

You weren't turning back now.

"We can discuss this tomorrow if you'd like-"

"No, I made up my mind. I'll take it. When do I start?"

..........

"Looking sharp as always, Revavroom."

With a sharp-toothed grin, you gently patted the head of your Starmobile--specifically the Revavroom attached to it, as it rumbled in happiness.

Then you hopped onto the vehicle, climbing up to the stage where you could survey the rest of your camp, observing your goons hanging out by the vending machines and driving around on their Cyclizars.

This was the Achird Squad base stationed at Casseroya Lake, and for about a year or so...you've also called it home.

The location was perfect for a mighty dragon leader such as yourself, allowing you to keep watch over the Tatsugiri and Dratini herds you'd see in the waters from time to time.

It was far better than the cramped dorms of the Academy. They would never have let your dragons roam free like Dragapult, Baxcalibur, and all the rest were doing right now..

Ever since joining Team Star, you never looked back and never regretted your decision. You became fast friends with the other bosses, with Atticus even designing some cool armor plates for your outfit that resembled a Kommo-o's scales.

Although things have been...rather weird as of late.

Especially since it was the anniversary of the incident.

Back at the Academy, you and all of the leaders came together with the ultimate to confront your bullies once and for all. It was meant to finally settle who was the strongest, and how you were sick of being pushed around.

Least to say..the tables have turned, and everyone knew your names.

The bullies ended up running scared, barely putting up a fight themselves before scrambling to heal and recall their Pokémon.

You felt pretty good about it, especially when you knocked out that jerk who made fun of your teeth and admiration for dragon trainers in one fell swoop.

But then you looked around and saw everyone's scared faces. Many were recording the battles, spreading them all over social media, or shielding their own Pokémon from potential harm--even though you never intended to hurt them whatsoever.

It turned into a huge scandal over who was in the right or wrong, although in the end your bullies played the victims, dropped out of school, and ended up being listened to the most.

They made you out to be monsters who just attacked them for no reason..and it almost got you all expelled.

However, Cassiopeia took the blame, and while you were pardoned, Harrington, the deputy director (who tried erasing all records of the scandal and bullying to "preserve" the Academy's image), and many teachers left, guilty that they didn't do more to prevent this.

It would have been a bittersweet victory for Team Star---had your leader not also vanished, their last message being a call for the organization to disband.

To this day, none of you understood why they'd do that...or why they think you'd ever wanna leave this team and go back to your studies.

How could you after the faculty messed up this badly?

How could you after they still sided with the bullies?

How could you after they tried to cover up what really happened?

In the end, you all promised to stick together, abiding by your codes and living out on the squad bases. You occasionally met up for discussions and battle plans, although you always held onto hope that if the team kept going long enough....Cassiopeia might come back.

You've tried contacting them through various means, yet none of your Rotoms could retrace their calls nor social media posts. Everything was gone.

As though they wanted you all to forget ever meeting them..

It never made sense to you, considering you could really use a leader back then.

But what's done is done, and you winded up assuming a de factor leader position, given your team was the strongest out of all of theirs. Of course, Ortega was less-than-pleased about holding a vote on it, but you won the majority and he eventually got over it.

Now you've been training your Pokémon more frequently, and only because there's something called "Operation: Starfall" going around--and apparently some Paldean trainer was going around tackling each base with the hope of claiming their badges.

One of the codes was that being defeated in battle meant surrendering it, and that means...

Someone was dead set on shutting down Team Star for good.

But you wouldn't let them. The other bosses were your friends, family..and you'll be damned if you lost them, too.

"Boss! The others are comin' in!" You heard one of the grunts shout, and you looked towards the horizon in surprise.

She wasn't kidding.

Ortega, Mela, Eri, Giacomo, and Atticus were at your base's entrance, waiting for you. Although you were eager to see them after being occupied with training for so long...it didn't concern you that all of them chose to show up at once.

But you refused to show any sort of alarm, huffing as you jumped off the stage, mounting your partner Cyclizar. "Let's ride!" You barked, allowing it to sprint towards the group at full speed.

Your cape fluttered in the wind as it leaped across a small stream, all while Tatsugiri--who was resting in a small basket attached to it--held on for dear life.

Upon arriving, the bosses stopped their chatter and turned as you slowed down, stepping off Cyclizar. You gave it a small pat on the head, assuring that it could rest, before looking at the group.

"So we meet again...what's with the sour faces?" Your eyebrows furrowed at their expressions. When nobody was immediately speaking up, you huffed. "Come on, out with it. You can't come all this way to my base just assume I can read your minds-"

"We come before thee bearing..a warning." Atticus muttered, bowing his head in shame. "The student you've spoken of hath proven to be quite the adversary."

"Is that so? Surely they haven't claimed all of your badges, have they?"

"........"

"Why is no one talking-?"

"Because we got our asses handed to us." Mela bluntly stated, clenching her fists. "We got absolutely smoked...and now you're the only one left."

Your eyes widened in shock and horror, although you didn't get the chance to respond as Ortega cut you off.

"Now before you freak out on us all..we did try our best. We did everything you and Cassiopeia taught us. But this kid....they're good. Almost too good. And this guy named Clive was helping them out the whole time, getting under our skin and everything...."

"Well I wouldn't say that." Eri looked at the fairy trainer, crossing her arms over her chest as she frowned. "He wanted to know where we're coming from and why we're doing all of this."

"...and you just told him?"

You could see everyone tense up, and you just scowled, wondering why they would do this.

"What makes you all think he would care...or why anybody from that academy would care about us now?" Your eyebrows furrowed as Tatsugiri sat on your shoulder, mimicking your expression. "Nobody cared when they hurt us...nobody cared when we were literally begging for help. Look, I know keeping this group together was hard, but it's no excuse to-"

"Honestly...I'm kinda tired of this charade. At least someone's willin' to listen to us now.." Giacomo remarked, frowning a little bit. "But here's the lowdown, [y/n]: we got beaten into the dirt and followed our code, so now we're here to give ya a little heads up before this kid comes after you next. We're sorry. But we tried."

"And we still don't know who's really behind this sting operation.." Mela grumbled, shaking her head in worry. "Someone wants to shut us down for good, and it's definitely not either of those new students. They're just being used to carry out the dirty work."

"I might have a good idea on who it is...and I swear, they'll answer for this." You bared your teeth. "But I'll save my dragon rage for this trainer. Wherever they are, whatever they're doing...I hope they know I'm ready. Because I'm gonna defend Team Star...defend us....until my last breath."

"Su! Su!!" Tatsugiri trilled in agreement, nuzzling your cheek, to which you couldn't help but smile a little bit.

"Well whatever happens next, you have our full support, [y/n]." Eri smiled as she patted your shoulder. "Badge or no badge, we stand behind you."

Everyone else chimed in with agreements, smiles on all of their faces as well--although Atticus' wasn't immediately noticeable, you could see it in his eyes.

Knowing this group still cared about you and believed in your battling skills made all the tension leave your shoulders.

"Thank you, my friends. Hasta la vistar ~☆"

""""Hasta la vistar, and good luck, [y/n]!! ~☆""""

[astermath]

nemesis

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: you made carmen’s life hell in culinary school, except you had no idea. now he finds out you run a restaurant in Chicago, and he’s confronted with the emotions he projected onto you.

word count: 2.9K

notes: kinda got inspired by the lyric "I'm the sweetest girl in town so why are you so mean?" by lana del rey but this was prompted by this ask!!! anyway this starts off in carmy's culinary school era and then goes to somewhere around the start of S1. this will def get a part two!!

♡ LANDING PAGE ♡

warnings: cursing, slight mention of suicidal thoughts, angst

comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! 

You were like the average person's depiction of an angel.

You were so incredibly good at what you did, excelling in every class they got, you were unanimously liked by everyone, always helping out your peers and taste testing, and for all he knew you probably fucking rescued baby polar bears in your spare time too.

You were perfect.

And he couldn't stand it.

Always saying good morning to him, with that sickeningly sweet smile, soft hands easily preparing the dishes he struggled to perfect. And that wasn't even the worst part. Because the teachers loved you too.

"Such an interesting spin on the use of this ingredient."

"I can tell you've really perfected this technique."

"What a unique combination of flavors..."

And they were right. Of course they were right, it's like you were a machine crafted in some kind of lab to outcook him in every way possible.

And it was stupid to be jealous, to almost hate you over it, because he was excelling too. But you were excelling more. His praise seemed worthless compared to yours, and he couldn't even dream of making the kind of connections you seemed to make with the other students.

So he grew to resent you. Even when he went to go work in New York, he couldn't shake the image of you standing in the corner of his kitchen, humming softly while chopping vegetables as you received all the praise he longed for. Some would say his hatred bordered on obsession, he would tell them it’s none of their fucking business.

Over the years, he’d managed to at least slightly shake the image of you in his kitchen, though at his lowest points, he couldn’t help but think of you. Of course Mikey was his primary motivation, but he couldn’t help but feel like possibly surpassing your success spurred him on too. But then again, what success? For all he knew, you quit cooking altogether, he hadn’t heard from you since he left for New York. That was, up until a few days ago.

It had been so busy already, and Carmen was spent trying to keep up with the pace of this business running on its last legs. He groaned into his hands, before going back to chopping tomatoes for his sauce. 

“Hi! Can I just get a braised beef sandwich to go?”

Your voice made him flinch. He almost cut into his finger, that honey dripping sweet familiar voice sending a jolt of anxiety over his entire body. No way, no fucking way you were here, in Chicago, in the Beef of all places. He thought he must have hallucinated it, stressed out of his mind from the intense lunch rush they’d just had. But he had to know, he had to find out if you were there, setting foot in his establishment.

So he turned his head to peer over to the counter, and there you were.

Angel of the academy.

Arch nemesis of his nightmares.

Ordering a sandwich from his run down restaurant.

You barely looked any different, and the sight of your smile made his stomach drop. Or flutter. It did something to his stomach at least.

He was just going to let you leave, pretend like he imagined it so he could continue to live his life and believe you were out there pursuing anything besides cooking. But he couldn’t. He had to know, something deep inside him forced him to put his knife down and walk to the counter as you were heading to the door, and call out your name in questioning.

You turned, and when your eyes met he remembered how uncomfortable your eyes made him. How they’d make his face get hot, stutter, think about every mistake he’s made, like he was having an allergic reaction to your eye contact. 

“Carmen?” Your voice was soft, unsure, as if you were coaxing a wild animal out of its cage.

Richie looked at Carmen, confused as all hell as to why his colleague was having a nervous staring contest with this random customer. “You know this chick or somethin’?” 

He voluntarily ignored Richie’s question, getting from behind the counter and walking up to you. A part of him wanted to bolt, slam the door and tell the others to kick you out. Luckily for him, he’d become the more confrontational type recently. 

“Holy shit, it is you!” A bright smile adorned your face, and he swore you were about to go in for a hug when you moved your arms, only to awkwardly cross them when he pulled away a bit. “What are you uh... Doin’ around here?” A stupid question, you were aware, but anything to make conversation with your long lost classmate.

The question made Carmen tense up. Although it was obvious he worked there, the Beef was not... In its prime condition, to say the least. He was a bit embarrassed to admit he owned it, but he wasn’t about to lie to you and make even more of a fool out of him in the long run.

“Makin’ sandwiches.” He sighed, looking down at his shoes for a moment, desperately trying to avoid eye contact. “So uh, what about you?”

“Ah, I run my own place like 25 minutes away from here.” 

Ugh.

Of course you fucking did. Of course you, star student that you are, owned your own restaurant in Chicago. He bet it was running so well too, and you didn’t have to worry about half the shit he dealt with on a daily basis.

“Ah, wait, here,” You reached into your purse and pulled out a business card, handing it to him. “We’ve been up and running for only a few months, but it’s going pretty well!” You clutched your hands together, excitedly awaiting his response. 

“Cool, cool...” He held the card, carefully reading over every letter. Sunrise diner... Huh. “A breakfast place?”

“You got it!” You chuckled, slightly nervous as you moved back and forth on your heels. You hadn’t seen Carmen in ages, and besides the added tattoos, he truly hadn’t changed that much. He’d matured, surely, but his demeanor remained the same. Curt, bold, something distrusting about it.

“If you want, you could uh... Stop by, maybe?” You fidgeted with the sleeve of your jacket.

Your question made him look up from the card, and a million answers ran through his mind. Did he want to? On one hand, he felt like if he spent any more time with you, he’d start feeling like even more of a failure than he already did. On the other hand, it wouldn’t be bad to scope out the competition, and who knows, maybe the place was shit, and he could sleep at night knowing at least both of your restaurants weren’t doing well. 

“Sure, why not.” He shoved the card into his back pocket, crossing his arms. “I’m kinda swamped right now, but I’ll let you know. Maybe this weekend or something.”

“Sure, yeah, totally! My contact info’s on the card!” Your excitement almost made him distrust you even more. Were you planning something? Was this part of some elaborate scheme to drive his business into the ground? Either way, he’d find out sooner or later.

“See you around!” You waved him goodbye, heading outside as he stood there, no reply as the last thing that was heard was the jingly of the bell above the door. 

Carmen took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before turning back around, seeing Richie lean against the counter with a shit eating grin. “Ex girlfriend?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows at him.

“Fuck off cousin.” 

God, he wished you were just an ex girlfriend. 

You were his biggest competition. 

Usually when Carmen was up this early, it was to get some preparations done for the restaurant, or if he just hadn’t slept at all during the night.

But now he stood in front of your restaurant, and fuck, he had to admit, it looked good.

From what he could see from outside, the place had a very cozy feel to it. The theme was a mix of a 50′s diner and a casual breakfast spot, and from what he could tell so far, there was no lack of customers either. But that didn’t say much, maybe they were paid actors, right?

He entered and made eye contact with the barista behind the counter who offered him a warm “welcome” and a smile, before looking to the side and waving at someone in the kitchen. Not long after, you walked out, bright smile plastered over your face. He always wondered how you could be so energetic this early in the morning.

“Hey,” he said, hands in his pockets, “nice place.”

“Aw, thanks Carmy!” Your chest warmed at the compliment. “Saved a seat just for you, just follow me.”

He was seated in a booth just for him, and he had to admit, he liked this setup. He could eat his food in peace at least. The vintage feel of the leather cushioning of the benches was pleasant, and the jazz music playing made for a pleasant atmosphere. He’d almost say he would visit a place like this outside of work hours, if you weren’t the one running it.

He looked over the menu, noticing a wide array of breakfast sandwiches, pastries, milkshakes, and the usual coffee arrangement. Nothing too crazy, though he secretly wished he could have chosen something difficult for you to make.

He ordered an eggs benedict sandwich with smoked salmon, a coffee, and a cherry danish. Should be a pretty good test to the culinary quality of the place, he thought.

A waiter came by to drop off his food soon after, and he hated to admit his mouth watered at the sight of it. Everything looked so fresh, and the plating was very pretty too. But cuisine isn’t about how stuff looks, if it was, the Beef would have never existed, that was for sure.

He dug in with his knife and fork, and started eating. He sat through his entire meal in complete silence, simply going through the motions of enjoying a normal breakfast. The barista watched him with careful eyes, as if he was Gordon Ramsey and they were a shitty bakery on the verge of bankruptcy.

He put down his fork, taking a deep breath. 

It was fucking delicious. 

And every moment he’d spent enjoying it made him angrier and angrier.

So he got up, seemingly in a bit of a hurry, and stormed outside, the door hitting the wall with a loud thud when he exited.

You watched it happen from the doorway to the kitchen, face painted with worry.

“Carmen! Carmen wait!” You started to catch up with him as he walked over to the parking. He didn’t like it, you thought, no, he hated it, he hated it so much he couldn’t even dignify you with a moment of feedback. 

Carmen’s face ran red as he could practically hear the blood rushing around his ears, hands starting to reach for his pack of cigarettes as you approached behind him. 

“Please, just tell me what was wrong, I-I’ll change it, I can make you something new, off the menu, w-whatever you want, I--”

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up!?” He turned around, yelling loud enough to have you frozen in your tracks. His pack of cigarettes was squeezed tightly in his hand, crumpling the cardboard packaging under his grip. 

You felt the paralyzing effect of his loud and furious voice, a cold sweat running over your body now. Before you could even open your mouth to say anything else, he stepped closer, and you didn’t even have the guts to back away.

“Every day in culinary school, you made my life hell! The one thing I have ever fucking excelled at, been noticed at, felt like I should have been alive for, you overtook me in!” His ears rang, and any noise besides his own yelling was muffled. 

“You, with your perfect knife skills, endless patience, and your little angel fucking face, always at the back of my heels, the corner of my damn kitchen, making me feel inferior! And then-- then I finally get away from you, think I’ve got some direction in my life, feel a sliver of confidence in my abilities, and what do you fucking do!?” He points at you, finger just an inch away from poking into your sternum. 

“You enter my city, my restaurant, and just come and remind me about how much better you’re doing! Because you love to make me feel like I’m worthless, liked I’m always 5 steps behind, don’t you?” He furrows his brows. “Tell me! Tell me that’s why you’re here, because you want to shit on my work, and make me feel worthless!”

You can feel his hot breath on your face, and your knees start to feel weak. You open your mouth, and the tears that had long been building in your eyes start to roll down your cheeks. The first noise that comes out of your mouth is barely half a word, strangled between the knot in your vocal cords that had formed out of fear. You swallow, and finally manage to speak up.

“Carmen, I-I’m... I’m so sorry...” You sob.

The person you’d looked up to since day one of culinary school thought of you as a bully. And you had no clue.

You knew Carmen didn’t like you, but you never knew he hated you this much. You’d noticed the tension in his jaw as you received good critiques, the strengthening grip on his tools when you got close to his station, the lack of eye content he provided when you did briefly talk. Just as much as you noticed his amazing instinct for flavor profiles, his ability to improvise, his insatiable urge to keep going. 

It inspired you. So you kept going too. Even though deep down, you’d wish he acknowledged your work.

And now he did, he finally did, but not in the way you’d always hoped for. The man you’d always admired, who was awarded Chef of the Year the same year you considered giving up entirely, was currently inches away from your face, watching you cry.

His expression softened just a bit, and the surrounding sound of cars passing by and distant jazz music finally came back to him. You were sorry. So sorry. You looked like it too, hands clutching the fabric of your apron, shaking slightly, cheeks stained with tears. Shit. Shit, he’d really messed up.

“I-I didn’t... I didn’t know, I swear, I never meant to, I was just--” Your voice broke between sentences, “I was trying to keep going, keep holding on, and you were so... You inspired me, y-you’re...” You swallowed, looking to the side, afraid to face his scowl. “You’re the reason I settled in Chicago. I wanted to-- to work with you, or for you.”

You remembered trying to reach him, but he’d changed numbers, and with his severe lack of social media, trying to find him was damn near impossible. By the time you were ready to start cooking again, the year you heard he won Chef of the Year, you found out he was based in Chicago. You searched online, but to no avail. You figured your best shot was to try and start something in the city, and pray to whatever god would answer that maybe you’d cross paths again.

He stood still, head still reeling and processing what you were saying. This was new information for him, and that changed... A lot. You, the person he’d spent like half of his career trying to catch up to, admired him. He’d almost think you were lying if it wasn’t for the tears streaming down your face, he started to realize just how badly he’d acted out just now.

“I--” He started, taking a step back to get out of your personal space. “Fuck, I should-- I should go.” 

You stood there, arms crossed, enveloping yourself and avoiding his eyes like a wounded animal. And the best thing he knew how to do at the moment, was flee the scene. He sucked at his emotions, hell, he could barely even handle his own, how was he going to help you after just cussing you out.

So he backed away, leaving to the nearest metro station to get out, leaving you alone outside. 

Carmen got home that same day, back against the door as he sat on the floor of his apartment. He felt horrible, like there was a gaping hole in his chest, and he imagined you felt about a hundred times worse. He couldn’t believe what he did, all because he projected this horrible false narrative onto you, stemming from his own self hatred. 

He sighed shakily, pulling out his phone and calling his older sister, Natalie.

“Hey, what’s up Carmy?”

“Hey Sugar-- uhm-- so you remember--”

“Are you okay?” She questioned, clearly worried at the shakiness of his voice.

“I’m fine, I promise, please can you just-- just send me the info for the therapy thing. Please.” He sighed. “I’m uh... I’m startin’ to believe I might actually need it.”

A pause remained for a moment, and he almost thought she hung up.

“...Bear?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened?”

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar   @spr3id   @deadandstill   @777iii  

[kentocalls]

endo yamato | (poison) paradise face slapping. bad decisions. descriptions of body violence, descripton of vomiting, endo's really sweet i wanted to make him craizer i'm sorry i guess sugar is the flavor of crazy i like. thanks for inspiring & letting me indulge @bjorkshire-pudding .

part 1

you're working too late and not sleeping enough. legs move like lead, the sway in your hips still hypnotic but less balanced. normally, endo would've punched tom in the dick by now but as he's a changed man; endo settles for repeatedly stabbing tom in his mind as he punctures the bald man's tires.  

that la prairie eye cream is also shit, endo knew you liked the packaging and bought it the second you he caught you staring at it. but what use is a $1,000 cream if you're still having to pack concealer on your face? you hate that shit. and the fucking coffee table that keeps grazing your knee in the morning uncoordinated rush? well, if it finds itself in a dumpster fire, endo knows nothing about it.

after all, he's enjoying the pleasant blue sky outside a random tall glass building. it's pure coincidence this is your work office, he wasn't even thinking, had no plan in mind, legs carried him all on their own to this sandwich stop, has nothing to do with the itch to see you.

he's bored and you work, it's a terrible combination. his trust fund would take care of generations of your children but alas; you want independence and he wants you happy.

endo stops mid bite when he hears you laughing. not the polite, gotta stay employed to pay bills laugh, the full belly ugly snorting laugh. his own lips twitching into a smile because of it. the only infections he'll catch come from you.  he turns to see the blessed sun that is your face and feels his heart swell. perfect, beautiful, radiant.

you're really, really laughing. god, he hasn't seen that....he hasn't seen it since....shit your birthday?   how long ago was that?

the guy in the grey suit isn't letting up, he's relaxed and saying more, you're not able to catch your breath due to the compiled waves of laughter echoing through your body. aphrodite has no right to claim herself as the goddess of beauty when you live and breathe gold.

you don't see endo, but he watches everything. the way you tilt your head at the grey suit guy, the way your eyes have a sparkle, how you bite your lip cuz you don't want to walk away but you need to go.  he remembers that tiny shuffle you do so adoringly, endo hums. leaning back into the bench, dropping his sandwich to the ground. unbothered by all the pigeons that descend.

you like grey suit, dontcha?

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

you don't realize how much space endo has taken up until he's not around.  another friend is getting married, another bachelorette party to be had, and you find. yourself actually getting ready in peace. 

not that endo ever stopped you from wearing what you want. hell he'd pick the sluttiest thing you own, roaring "my goddess needs to be seen."  

your smile falters a little. 

it's your first club outing since the break up. and you'd say you're a medium get drunk and dance kinda of gal, nothing you absolutely have to do, but sometimes its fun. to dance, see the face of want and play and fun on someone else's face. endo always looked magical in the neon hues, ugh.  you would feel safer if endo...no, no. don't go there. . 

don't think about him, not when you're pulling on the louboutin heels he bought you just because.  not when you're closing the angara diamond tennis bracelet he caught you staring at. not when you put on solitaire hoops that reminded him of your eyes.

your whole vanity is full of overpriced, luxury brands you can't pronounce because pretty things are for his pretty thing.  the way heat rushes to your face, remembering his voice sound like that, FUCK. stop THINKING about him. you're so wound up. and you're remembering what your friends tell you.

the only way to get over someone is to get under someone else right?  you do a once over in the mirror. you're sparkling, the dress, the skin, the glow, the smile. oh, you'll get someone under you all right.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

endo is glaring daggers into the old fucks in the board room, they clearly don't need their eyes or brains. don't they KNOW what you look like right now? don't that understand he must pay homage? 

he tells his lackey he expects to see the hands of fuckers who don't know not to touch what belongs to you and ultimately him.  and groans loudly.  "debra, cut this fucking meeting short. what the fuck do you need approval for?"

it's only a 45 million dollar deal to approve stem cell research across three labs in the eastern countries. the fuck do they need endo to say? duh?

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

you settle on a cranberry vodka, asking for more cranberry juice because that refreshing tart flavor feels good in this overheated crowd. you don't have to scout for too long, easily beckoning over the club player.

you've seen this guy with multiple girls and gals in various clubs. you're pretty sure he's been friends with benefits with the bachelorette at some point but it's not gonna stop you from getting dick tonight. 

the club player has something, maybe it's that one sharp canine that did you in, reminded you of...no, not going there, shut that door.

simmer down, trap that need. 

the club bathroom is a new place for you, it's dirty and messy and you grimace a little as you're slammed against the wobbly door, are only hearing how hot you are over and over and its fine. focus on that. ignore how this guy didn't even place a hand behind your head to prevent any harsh impact to your skull. that he didn't check in after you made that tiny noice.

this is what a quickie is right?

rushed, aggressive,  drunk fun.

come on, focus on how hot this guy is.

let his hands touch and squeeze. it's fine, you want this, need to use him, have to use him, you're drunk enough. "so fucking hot" hands on your hips. a slight tang of disappointment when they don't grip as much as endo's would have.

a bite to your shoulder,  the player barely puts any pressure into it; not like endo when he's...ah stop...endo isn't here. stop.the bathroom is empty, the night is young enough. it's you and this guy and yet you keep hoping you'll open your eyes and catch a sea of messy wavy hair and fuck.  why are your eyes hungry for a certain toothy grin and thundery eyes?

why? you aren't guilty are you?

endo won't even know, not that it matters, not like he'd do anything about this. he's respecting your 'boundaries' right, like you wanted. understanding that you're going to date other people because the two of you are 'not together' like that anymore. not exclusive. it's a quickie, it's fine. meaningless. it shouldn't matter that endo only ever smells like you.

you let out a big exhale, hands on the guys face to get him back to kissing you, he needs to do a better job at distracting you but the player pulls your wrists down and keeps them flush against the door.  it's different, when you test your strength and resist the players hold he smirks, "let me do my thing first hot mama."  

hot what?

you haven't been called that before. 

not sure if you like it.  

not sure if you wanna hear it again.  

maybe sexy mama but hot mama?  the hottest mama you know isn't even technically a mama--

"still with me hot stuff?" doesn't he know any other adjectives? you know how good you look. this dress, the hair, a total knockout -- you're ethereal, scorching, a vixen even, and the word this guy uses is hot? you roll your eyes and the guy stiffens up.

oh fuck, you hurt his feelings. but there's no apology on your lips, why the fuck is an eye roll enough to distract him from kissing you?

"you wanna do this or not?" his voice even.

"yeah, yeah i do."  he has a dick you reason, you'll feel better after being fucked, maybe, probably. he cocks an eyebrow.

"you keep pushing my hands away when i get close to touching you." he moves away, the heat gone, the tension dissipated. is he even cute? he has nice, clean, tattoo free hands, don't you want them on you?

"so you gonna be good hot thing and taste me?"

good? when you're the entire fucking package?

and what does he mean taste him?

right away too,  when he hasn't earned a reward?  all he's done is push into your space, give you a few short kisses. nothing real with need, hands too mean too eager too abrasive. nothing about his touch is for you, even the way his hips rut against your thigh, that angle? does nothing for you. 

it isn't how endo moves. endo would never take first. not from you. pushing you into seeing stars, has you shaking and grasping and floaty. endo always waits for you to beg, waits for you to claw at his skin, look up at him with wet eyes and only then let's you take what you want from him. fuck, you could keep endo on his knees the entire night and he still wouldn't expect your lips to do what this player is asking. 

what are you doing?

this guy isn't hot enough, he hasn't garnered any benefit, you want real kisses and  dirty whispers to make you forget about the smell of the bathroom stall, maybe it's the setting. fuck the light is too bright in here. maybe turning them off would help, but is this really? the guy you want under you?  "hey, hey, easy, hot thing."

oh for fucks sake, "i'm not drunk enough for this." 

"you needa be drunk to fuck?" the player pulls off of you immediately, studying your face. "listen, i'm not a therapist but ho-"

"i swear to god you call me hot thing, hot stuff, hot mama, one more--"

"okay, okay fuck, why are you so angry?" gone, all of it, just like that. you watch his ego enter the space as he puffs up his chest, a smirk on your face. the player studies your face a bit displeased, " what i was gonna say was, i'm only gonna fuck what wants to fuck me, and you don't. i'm out." 

a laugh on your lips as you saunter back to your friends, endo is taller than that asshole anyways. 

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emptying your guts into the white porcelain bowl is not how you wanted to spend your night. being rejected by the the club player had you drinking all the free shots your deep cut sparkly dress got you and now you're paying for it.

body in violent revolt against the assault of intoxication.

you're crying and puking and there are hands collecting your beautifully styled hair, keeping it tucked away and safe. a warm towel swiping at your mouth when your insides are empty. an arm around your waist hoisting you up, an up you go precious, and you're at the sink. you're made to swish mouthwash and spit, over and over until endo is satisfied you aren't going to wake up feeling gross.

he uses more clean, damp, hot towels to wipe at your body, getting the pesky body glitter off as best he can. his hands soft, warm, soothing. works lotion into your limbs, massaging the venom and spite out.

you aren't okay. and these tears? oh, someone's gonna bur for this. he'll definitely know who to return your anger and sadness to soon enough. but first, you. you wouldn't leave the club unless he came to get you right? knocked out that bouncers teeth fair and square when he put a hand to your neck. endo will get him too precious, he'll cut up the bouncers fingers in so many pieces it'll look like lentil soup when he's done. 

but you come first.  he's gotta get you clean and consoled. the smell of alcohol and sweat off your body, your hair soothed over and cared for how you like it, just how you do it at your place. needs to see you tucked into his cotton sheets, safe and sound in dreamland. he not gonna leave you like this, moody and fussy and drunk as fuck with sleep. 

"it's your fault, it's your fault."  you cry into his chest.  light punches to his chest.

irrational, that's what endo makes you feel.

"tell me," voice low and deep "tell me," hands on the side of your face, "angel. i'll undo it, i'll fix it, i'll end it. tell me." he needs to know what his fault is, needs to hear the next piece of him he'll rip out and discard.

endo would burn a thousand times over before ever seeing another tear fall from your face.

how dare he give rise to the storm brewing through your eyes?

hit him, punch him, break him. 

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you're at the mall buying apology gifts for fucking up the bachelorette party. friends understanding that endo has 'done a number' on you but really, really you've done a number on yourself. 

you barely recognize the girl in the shop window. what the fuck are you doing, trying to hook up with randos? 

you don't have to look to know he's trailing along, right behind you.  of course he is. takes your momentary introspection as desire for the gucci tacchini furniture in the window and snaps his fingers to a lackey to go in and buy the sofa in your favorite color. doesn't bring up last night nor the morning. it's annoying, it pisses you off. 

you buy things you don't need and shove all the bags into his chest. he takes them with the sweet grin and follows like a lost puppy.  

drops his card before you even reach for yours. it furthers your scorn. oh, he wants to pay? you'll make him back, waltz into every high end store and rack up an insane bills, he'll crack. he'll drop this soon enough right? that song he's humming and the way he's looking at you dreamy and soft is a lie, right?

"love it when my angel spends my money. get the purple one too, know you like that color."

you're mad, you're so fucking mad.  a blazing inferno, brighter than the sun and endo basks in the light despite the heat. 

you're buying more than you make in an entire year and all he does is bat his long eyelashes at you?

doesn't he have limits? 

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

grey suit is a nice guy. a steady guy. a smart guy. he plays the game slow and steady, builds up a friendship, dotes on you in ways endo hadn't thought of but will surely steal. endo will study and learn how to do soft dating too. he'll learn all the things grey suit says to make you laugh like that too.

it's why endo isn't bothered when your apartment door opens and you stumble in, giggling with a goofy smile that's met with hushed kisses. grey suit has his hands on your low back, his eyes on your face. oh, endo thinks this one might do a decent job of doting on you. might even fuck you right too, hell grey suit may understand the goddess you are and that there is a right way to worship. 

endo rolls to his side on your brand new sofa, bringing his left leg over his right for balance, head leaning into right hand, he observes. watching you let yourself loosen up, body always stiff when things start to get heated, you're a little shy right? that's why deep kisses and whispered promises help you unwind. that's the best way, it gives you enough room to stop thinking, unwind, pull close, and allow yourself to take what you need. so far, grey suit might be patient enough to coax it outta you.

as endo watches, grey suit's eyes connect with his. grey suit doesn't startle, the motherfucker JUMPS. endo swears if that coward's hand actually hit your face in his alarm he's going to break each finger in half and shove it up grey suit's dick so far he'll need an ENT specialist to find them.

"that your roommate?"

endo gives him that smile.

"i'm the love of her life dickhead."

you give him a sharp look, what? he said dickhead not fucker or asshole. this is progress.

grey suit looks between you and endo, fucking shrimp. endo wouldn't hesitate to end any guy trying to get between you and him.  the only reason this is allowed is because grey suit makes you smile and laugh on your lunch hour. 

endo is confident, secure, stretches out on your sofa. you wanna use someone to pass the time? be his guest. endo can wait, confident all roads will lead to him at the end.

"i got an early meeting actually, hey, thanks for this, you're great," he looks at endo, "you are but i gotta, work. gotta make that money..." grey suit doesn't even kiss you goodbye?  what a disappointing piece of shit, that motherfucker better sleep with both eye open. you let him step into your sacred space and --

"endo yamato," you clench your fists, angry. oh, he hasn't head that in a while, he tried to stop himself from cackling he really did, but it escapes. endo cackles, moves to seated, legs crossing underneath him, back straight, the most polite posture he can muster. calls you hack by your full government name with the deepest voice.

you crowd him before you can help yourself, what's endo need personal space for when anyways? it's useless, store what you want in his lungs, really. he'll take anything as long as he can feel the heat of your skin this close.

your hand twitching with how fucking annoying endo's grin is, how vexing his eyes are, how exasperating the calmness of his being is. the gall of this guy. "return the key."

"no lock is gonna keep me from you precious."   his eyes dart to your hands. they're clenching so tight, your nails are gonna cut skin, gonna bleed. he uses his tattooed fingers to pry your fists open, stretching your hand flat and smacking it against his cheek, hard.

your glare softens in surprise. "you're mad at me right?"

his eyes dazed.

"i did something to upset you." he moves your hand against his cheek again, the mock slap makes you shiver. "gotta get that anger out, right? can't focus cuz of me, huh? " you swallow trying to break eye contact, don't get suckered into this. that sweet siren sound.

"i messed something up, angel didn't i?" another slap, the sound, the feel, the touch of your skin against his cheek is salvation he's unworthy of. he'll take any amount of force, any amount of pressure. keep your touch on him. 

you catch yourself, letting go an exhale you held captive in your lungs. stop, before you get lost in his eyes, before he unlocks this side of you, something you can't put a lid back on, something you can't unlearn. you shove at his face and feel him smile as you pull your hand away.

"i can take it."  he grabs at your hips, pulls you in, his breath hot against your stomach. takes your hand and kisses the palm. "i want it."  he guides your hand to his cheek again. 

"i deserve your anger, at the very least, don't i?" fuck, he's almost begging, looks up pleading, he deserves your warmth, your wrath. "take it out on me."

"take it out on you?" you don't recognize your voice.

he nods, smile wide. this is the first step to absolution for him, he made you cry didn't he? hit him until he sheds a hundred times the tears you did. 

"i won't make a sound. i won't move away. as hard as you want, goddess, as hard as you need." he is sorry for making you cry, so do it, use him. give in, give in, give in.

months and months and months of endo; him walking into your apartment as if it's his name on the lease and not yours. him looking at all your dates with disdain all while telling you he doesn't mind at all, go play. 

you hate you look for him when he's not around. hate all the sarcasm and snark he eats up like honey on drizzled on french toast.  hate how he can take your anger as if it's welcome rain and he's parched. resent how you notice everyone expects you to shrink and be polite but endo holds you up pride. takes all of you -- the anger, the saddens, the cursing, the frustration, like it's nothing.

he wouldn't even label it as enduring your shadow no, endo, your crazy fucking endo is always begging, grasping, crawling to that monster inside your chest to, bares his neck without asking. you hate it.

hate how he looks at you for approval; every time he's nice and not snapping at a waiter, punching a guys face, or drivint the speed limit. as if he's changed. as if he's normal.

as if you not seeing him go back to the restaurant to cause a scene means it didn't happen. that punching guys beyond recognition later doesn't change the fact people you don't know flinch when you cross the street. like you aren't aware of the payout endo's company does to keep his road rage out of the public eye. 

that he was worse before you, this is him healed, this is him contained. happy. your good, bad, ugly, worst days are the spark of his life, enchanting.  that you should let go, let him in, all of you is his. give in, give in, give in.  fuck what your friends think, fuck what your parents would say. he'll walk miles on his knees if he has to. don't be scared.

trusts you beyond with blind faith, take your fill again and again and again.

he'll prove it to you.

all you have to do is let him submit.

all you have to do is keep him.

what's he going to do with all this love that's meant for you anyway? this fidelity, it's yours. do what you want.

but you, oh. his precious goddess.

the filth before him have done a number on you haven't they? planting seeds of doubt about your worth. you don't trust his allegiance is that strong for you. that his faith is misplaced.

you'll show him.

you pull your hand back and slap hard. his whole face turns from the impact, eyes a little blown out.

that's it. that's right. he's not gonna run, he's not gonna ask you to constrict.

his angel, his saving light, his precious heart, his goddess.  

no sound, no snark, no challenge.

endo licks his lips. softly returns his head to it's initial position, balanced between on top his neck. he relaxes his shoulders down, keeps his hands soft and loose on his thighs. 

he looks up.

you're gonna take it out on him right?

ready, waiting, wanting.

use him.