#I didn't feel like drawing their hat so don't worry about it

[yeetdasweet]

Oh my sweet boy, my sweet, beautiful boy.

[writingoddess1125]

Morticia and Gomez Effect

Mihawk X FemReader

Since Mihawk is based off of Dracula (Duh) and his whole goth dilf attitude it would make sense he's Romanian 🇷🇴

Also I drank some wine 🍷 before this so enjoy!!

>>> Part 2

• Giving Mihawk's personality I don't think he is the type that finds his opposite attractive. No this man likes those dark mysterious women-

• Def has a More Gothic wife.

• Mihawk is not one to openly talk about his fine but doesn't hide it either. If someone points out the gold ring hanging by his cross he will say it's his wedding band-

• However when his wife is around, he is quite flirty. A smirk on his lips as he will wrap his hand around your waist, lay kisses on your hand or pepper a kiss to the side of your neck. Uncaring if the world sees

• You also can defend yourself perfectly fine so he doesn't have to worry too much about you getting attacked- Truthfully he would pity someone so foolish to do so. Cause if you didn't kill them he would.

• But what was most known was- Mihawk was so whipped for you. Figuratively and Literally-

• The way you were formally introduced to the whole entirety of the Strawhat pirates was a necessary evil.

• "Zoro we need this- It says a red ruby is needed in order for this and we have non thays big enough!" Nami yelled pointing to the treasure map, Zoro sighed. He had accidently admitted he knew someone with a ruby big enough-

• After enough pestering he agreed and they set sail to Kuraigana Island

• It didn't take long to arrive at the gloomy island, A quick journey to the large castle and the spare key hidden under the mat lead the group inside.

• It looked like a cleaned haunted house- Which frightened the group more till the sound of your voice shook them from their thoughts

• "Is someone here?" You call from the large lounging area. Drawing them all in to the well lit room with a crackling fireplace.

• Sanji covered his nose quickly to stop a nosebleed as he stared at you, So elegantly seated with a cup of tea and a amused look on your face at seeing such a young group or pirates breaking into your home.

• Before Sanji could say a word Zoro slammed his hand over the blondes mouth quickly.

• "Madam Dracule" He said formally and bowed respectfully

• His whole crew stiffening at hearing the formal use of your name.

• DRACULE MIHAWKS WIFE!?

• Sipping your tea you raised a brow at Zoro as he bowed deeply to you. You knew he respected you just as much as Mihawk- the wife of his teacher as well as one of his teachers as well since you did assist in training.

• "Zoro, My dear child what brings you and your friends here?" You ask calmly, setting your tea aside as you felt the shift of the room.. they were nervous.

• "We came here to ask you-" The sound of the door slamming open shook them as they heard heavy footsteps walk to them. Revealing the man of the home, Mihawk. Wet from rain and pulling his hat from his head with a stoic frown

• "Dragă (Darling), What is this?" Mihawk questioned as he returned to his island home to see a familiar pirate ship docked and his Pupil on their knees before his wife. Paired with the group of familiar pirated standing in his livingroom.

• "I am not sure yet love, We were just about to discuss it" You say softly, standing up to gelp him take off his sword and coat. Already feeling his eyes following you as you did this-

• Both of you knowing it was an excuse to touch him.

• "We wished to temporarily barrow your ruby necklace Madame." Zoro said still bowing formally

• Mihawk's eyebrow twitching at hearing this-

• "You wish for my wife to give you her necklace?" He said as his eyes narrowed down at them.

• "J-Just for a little bit Sir!" Nami said, feeling anxiety wash through her system.

• "My Love" You cooed, reaching a hand over and touching the side of his face. Immediately it was like dealing with a feline, Leaning into your touch as he gave you a warning glare.

• "Barrowing a necklace is so minor compared to us at that age. Remember Cohi Island?" You purred, Mihawk giving a subtle growl in the back of his throat. "Ah Cohi Island, How can I forget?" He all but purred out.

• The two of you reminiscing as Mihawk began to place kisses up your arms as you pulled him close and whispered sweet sensual words and memories to him.

• "A little necklace won't be much trouble, Especially since it will be returned~" You whispered in his ear

• The poor strawhats subjected to the very outward affection of the Warlord. It was quite a unpleasant experience for them all-

• Mihawk unclasping the necklace with his teeth before tossing it at Zoro who quickly caught it. The Warlord glaring at his Pupil lazily

• "It will be returned' He said stoically, before returning to his task at hand.

• You wave them off, Smiling softly as Mihawk leaned into your neck to lay kisses and love bites.

• Zoro bowing again quickly as he held the necklace and the youthful pirates quickly filed out of the castle as fast as possible. Zoro still clutching the gemstone

• "Holy fuck! She literally got Hawkeye of all people to give you the necklace!" Usopp said in shock as Zoro nodded. Nami's eyeing that diamond necklace

• "Yes but it must be returned-" He stressed. Not being stupid enough to let anyone steal from his mentor or his wife-

• The group nodded and looked out at the raging storm that beat against them.

• "Well it's raining maybe we can ask for a room-" Usopp started but Zoro quickly shook his head, His face pale and eyes like he was living through War Flashbacks.

• "No- The unholy noises that are about to invade that castle no one will sleep" He said in a deadpan voice- and from the look in his eyes everyone believed him.

• That was a couple too in love

[sports-on-sundays]

people change / CL16 / Part 1

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - You wish you could just forget about the relationship. It's hard when you had a son together.

Warnings: 'Y/s/n' means 'your son's name', you are free to imagine the son as whatever age he acts because I leave that unspecified, mention of breaking up/divorce, broken family, censored cussing, getting drunk, toxic relationship, me sucking at writing kids (how do they even act???)

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: This was heavily inspired by the song People Change by for KING & COUNTRY at the end there especially. I listened to it while writing. So you're free to look that up and have a listen. Link to part 2 / Link to part 3

"Hey, sweetie," you say as you buckle your son into the car. "How was your day at school?"

"Fun... But Mama, I didn't know what to do."

"Hm? When didn't you know what to, love?" you ask, concerned.

"Well, we did papers and pictures about our mommies and daddies and our houses and stuff and I didn't know, Mama..."

You stop after he says this, pulling your hands away as they tremble. Your heart, at those words from your son, feels like it's being wrenched out of your chest, and you cough into your arm. "O- Oh, sweetheart..." you clear your throat. "Well, why don't you first draw pictures and write about me and my house, and then you write and draw about your daddy and his house..."

Your son does a pouting face at this. "Mama..." he complains. "Why can't you and Daddy be like other kids' mommies and daddies?"

"Love, I don't think this is the time to be talking about this. Let's just get driving home now." You hate to shut him down, but he's asking too many questions that you just can't answer.

He's asking too many questions that are making you feel too confused and guilty.

"Hey, buddy. What's up?" you smile as you get out of the car to help your son pack his bags into the trunk, and then get in the backseat. You're doing this right outside Charles' house. You're picking him up from his weekend with his dad.

The little boy shrugs as you buckle him in. "I want my grey bag, Mama! Daddy gave me some food for the ride."

"What do you say?"

"Please!" he pouts.

You nod, and give him his bag. Charles is always sure to equip Y/s/n with a bagful of healthy snacks for the hour and forty-five minute drive back home.

The whole ride, Y/s/n is unusually quiet. Even when you try talking to him, he gives short answers and makes no effort to continue the conversation. Which is very unusual from the usually frisky and excitable little boy.

When you get home and go inside, he immediately goes to his room, still not saying anything.

You sigh, feeling worried.

Did...

Did Charles do something?

Even though the two of you separated for big reasons, you've never felt too worried about Y/s/n going to see him every other weekend, except for maybe at the beginning. Over the years, you're pretty sure that Charles has gotten more responsible than how he once was.

"Dinnertime, love!"

Silence.

"Love?"

"I'm not hungry!"

You sigh, the worry sinking deeper. "You should have saved some of your dad's snack for later, then! I made dinner for you!"

Silence. Again.

You walk down the hall and knock on his bedroom door, before gently pushing it open. The little boy is sitting on his red bed. In his hand is his Ferrari hat. He's blankly staring at it.

Oh God no. What did Charles do? What did Charles say? Doesn't he understand the unspoken boundaries about this?

"Y/s/n?" you say gently, sitting down next to him. "What's wrong, sweetie? You know you can tell me. I'm listening."

The boy looks older than he is right now. You feel a sharp pang in your chest as he murmurs, "Why do you and daddy live in different countries? How come I have two houses, two bedrooms... two everything? How come, Mama?"

It takes all you have to not tear up. You wrap your arms tightly around him at this. He leans against you, hugging you back.

"Andre and Alex have a mommy and daddy who live in the same house. How come you and Daddy don't?"

"Y/s/n, it's really complicated, love. But, can I ask... What has got you thinking of all of this, love? What has got this on your mind?" You speak in a very gentle tone, rubbing his back. Obviously, this is upsetting him. Really, though, what kid wouldn't be upset?

Your son looks at you in hesitation. "I'm not allowed to say..."

You feel another pang of worry. "Love, it's okay. You can tell your mama anything."

"But Daddy told me not to."

You swallow nervously. "You're not doing anything wrong by telling me. I'm giving you permission. I can't have you feeling this upset, love. You can tell me anything that's bothering you, even if your father told you not to." Y/s/n is too much of a good kid. You don't know where he gets it from.

You wipe your son's watering eyes, trying to reassure him. He sniffs, before saying, "You won't tell Daddy?"

"Tell Daddy what?"

"What I'm gonna tell you."

You bite your lip. "Of course not, love. I won't tell your daddy."

He nods, before saying, as he starts to really cry, "Daddy cried, Mommy... I wasn't allowed to know but I couldn't sleep because Daddy forgot to read me my story. So I was going in to tell him to snuggle me... because I couldn't sleep. But Daddy was crying..." Y/s/n sniffs, and continues blubbering, "Daddy was talking to someone on the phone and he was really sad... I don't know why Daddy was crying, Mama. He said he was sad because he missed you and me to the person on the phone. Daddy was so sad so I don't know why we don't make Daddy happy and why can't my mommy and daddy be like my friends' mommies and daddies?" He lets out a sob, snuggling into you. You're speechless as your son continues, "I went and gave Daddy a hug because he was sad. He said he missed you. He asked me why I was up and said I was in trouble and said I wasn't allowed to tell you he was sad and crying. He said even daddies cry sometimes," he sniffs and lets out another sob. You hold him tight, eyes wide. "I asked him how come he was sad and he said he didn't know and he loved me and then we went to bed. I don't get it, Mama."

You try not to tremble.

Fighting off tears, because the last thing Y/s/n needs is to see his mom cry on top of it all. Not sad tears, though. Angry tears.

Why can't Charles just let go? He's so possessive and obsessive. F*ck him and his Monaco flat and his boat and his Ferrari and everything f*cking else. Why would he let his son see him so vulnerable. Doesn't he care? F*ck him.

Why can't he just let go?

You walk down the hall of the mall, your son's little hand in yours, heading to the food court because eventually, Y/s/n's complaining about how 'I'm hungryyyyy!' got too annoying, and you gave in.

Suddenly, though, his little hand slips out of yours. You look down at him in confusion, starting to say his name. He starts running away. You're about to go after him, but suddenly freeze when the little boy shouts, "Look, Mama, look! It's Daddy! Daddy! Hi, Daddy! Hiiiii!"

And sure enough, Charles Leclerc stops as soon as he sees his son, a grin spreading across his face. He adjusted his cap to be lower on his forehead, clearly trying to go incognito here. But he bends down, and the moment little Y/s/n reaches Charles, his father scoops him up into his arms, standing up with an, "Auwgh," noise, as if it were really hard for the strong man to pick up his light son. Charles holds him tight, in an embrace, before saying, "What's up, buddy? Where's your mama?" Y/s/n points, and Charles looks up.

Your eyes meet. And everything stops. The voices, the music, the whir of the escalators, the lights, heating, and air conditioning all making their own sounds, the people walking past- everyone else living their own lives disappear.

And it's just you and Charles, eyes locked, staring at each other.

Heartbeats or seconds or minutes, you don't know. You feel a certain electricity that hurts. Shocks you. Maybe Charles likes how it feels though. Maybe he loves that, with his adrenaline seeking lifestyle. Because, after all, he doesn't look away.

But in the same way, you don't either.

Finally, it's your son that breaks the trance you seemed to go into with your ex-husband, by saying suddenly words that stress you out and tear you apart at the same time: "See, Daddy?" He pats his father's cheek, which has a little bit of facial hair. "You don't have to cry anymore... You don't..." Suddenly, he looks a little scared, realizing he wasn't supposed to say that, but finishes softly with, "You don't have to miss Mama anymore, Daddy, because she's right here..."

There's almost a pleading in your son's eyes. A longing. You feel yourself start to tear up, but you strive to hold them back. Y/s/n. He loves us. He loves his parents so much. He just wishes they would love each other.

Charles shakes his head in surprise, stroking Y/s/n's hair, "Buddy, it's okay. Don't worry. I'm okay. I don't-" he falters for just a moment before finishing quickly, glancing to you nervously, "I don't miss Mama anymore. Don't worry."

"But I miss Mama." At this, both of you look at your son in confusion.

"But Y/s/n, Mama is right here," Charles says carefully, taking more steps closer to you. "See? Do you want to go with M-"

"No!" your son suddenly snaps, and says as if it is the most obviously thing on earth, "When I'm with Daddy, I miss Mama. When I'm with Mama, I miss Daddy. I don't wanna miss you guys!"

All the sudden, it's too much for you. All of it. Before Charles can do anything else you say quickly, your voice obviously cracking and your breath shaky, "Charles, can you take him home today? I'm sorry-"

"Of course, Y/n. I-"

You turns, jogging away. You need to get out of there.

But as you run out, you hear Charles call after you, "Y/n! Y/n, wait! Y/n, we're going to talk on the phone tonight, okay? There's things we still need to go over!"

At around 3:00 A.M., Charles calls. While you're worried to answer, you're also relieved. The fact that you're still awake at 3:00 A.M. shows how much anxiety you've been feeling about getting this call from Charles.

When you pick up, you murmur softly, "Hey, Charles."

"Sorry I'm calling at this hour. God. I just had to make sure Y/s/n was sound asleep. I'm, uhm," he pauses to clear his throat awkwardly, and continues in a softer, more delicate voice, "I'm sure Y/s/n told you about the phone call the other weekend..."

"Y- Yeah, he did. What did you do? Did you scare him into not telling me? He was crying," you say, your voice becoming harder and harder as you speak.

"What?! No! I just asked him please not to tell you. That was it. Maybe he was crying because..." Charles trails off.

"Because why?" you snap, although the sinking feeling within tells you exactly why.

"Y/n..." he sighs loudly. "Because our son loves us and doesn't get why... w- we... don't- don't, uhm.... love each other." The facts that he falters so much on that last phrase, that it's so hard for him to get out, sends a pit in your stomach. Of dread, and anger.

And without another hesitation, you just say it. "Charles... you still love me, don't you?"

There's silence over the phone. Sickly, disgusting, terrible silence. The anger rises up in you higher and higher, like a pressure, trying to push you on your tipping point. So finally you snap, probably way too loud, "Charles, what the hell! F*ck you. I hate you, you f*cking asshole. You're too much of a f*cking coward to even say it! Just like you've always been!" Your voice gets louder and louder. "Just like you've always been! Too much of a f*cking coward to admit anything! You tricked me! You had me thinking everything was peaches and cream, but it wasn't! You were being a terrible person and played innocent, and whenever I asked you anything, you did the same exact thing you still do. You just keep silent. Charles, I know you'll never grow, I hate that my son has to see your sorry ass every other weekend, and if I knew it wouldn't break his sweet little heart, I would wish your pathetic silent self would just fall off the face of the earth so I didn't have to ever have to listen to your stupid, pathetic silence ever again."

"Y/n, I-" You hang up. Charles doesn't try to call back.

Years ago.

Charles came in and stumbled into your arms, as if you were the one that needed to take care of him. You were tired, having stayed up with your fussy baby boy nearly all night, with no help, and you wanted to cry. You didn't want Charles to stumble in, drunk, right into your arms, as if he was the one who needed help. No. He was the one causing the problem. He had reeked of alcohol. He didn't get drunk this often, and you knew exactly why he was doing it now, although he'd been too scared while sober to admit it to you. It was the argument you'd had, and his way of coping was going out, getting drunk, and coming home to his wife and baby at three in the morning, wasted. Now, while drunk out of his mind, he was able to murmur, his words slurred tremendously, "Y/n... I'm sorry, love... You should've come with me tonight. I had fun... We could... make up for that argument..." He had a sickly seductive tone in his voice.

You felt rage fill up in you. Did you forget about your son? The son that you and I created together? Did you forget about that? Instead of letting any of that rage escape you, you just brought him to the bedroom and helped him into bed. You left him, walked to the living room, sat down on the couch, and held your aching, tired head, pulling at your hair, as tears escaped your closed eyelids.

Your world was spinning. Everything was wrong.

The argument. You had started it. And yelled at him. About how he was a coward and never told the truth. Even though you loved him. You thought. You must've. You... You had a son together. You yelled at him for telling you he was working when he wasn't. You yelled at him that he wasn't helping you at all and that you were going out of your mind. You said you felt like a single mom because he was never around, never helped, and never tried to. He lied and told you that an event he had mentioned that you were excited for was cancelled because he had found out more things about the event that he didn't want to deal with himself. He was becoming more and more selfish, showing who he really was more and more every single day. It just made you think- what is he doing when he gets drunk? What else is he being dishonest about?

Eventually you stopped loving him. You loved your son much more, so you broke it off. The final tipping point was when you suspected he had cheated, although nothing had ever proved that. But that was when you finally broke it off.

He was heartbroken. He held onto you. No, Y/n, please don't do this. I'll try better. I'll try better. You had told him that he had been saying he'd try better for the past year.

He had cried. Maybe even sobbed. You only saw him sob twice. Once was one time when he was drunk out of his mind, and the other one was that night when you told him you were breaking it off. I guess Y/s/n has seen him sob a third time, though.

He had said to you that he still loved you. You had said if you loved me, you wouldn't have done this. And that was the end of it.

Or so you thought.

You can't believe you're here. You can't believe he convinced you. You set up for your mother to watch Y/s/n while you drive into Monaco and.

Well, yeah. Go to Charles' God-forsaken house. To meet with him. 'Have a talk' as he put it. 'In real life.' So he can 'see your face and expressions.' And 'understand better.'

Charles opens the door. He's wearing a black t-shirt, grey jeans, and has his usual assortment of different bracelets on his wrists. And a disgustingly expensive watch. As you walk into his (beautiful) flat, you see that it hasn't changed much since you left and moved a couple hours closer to home, back in France. Just a little cleaner. But just like how it was when you lived here, there's still a stray toy on the floor here and there. As if reading your mind, he bends down, picking up a few of them, before putting them in a basket in the corner of the room. He runs his hand through his messy, wavy brown hair, looking a little awkward. "Why don't you sit down?" he asks softly, gesturing to the couch by a nod of his head. "Make yourself... comfortable... Uh... I made some cookies. Consider it a peace offering. And I... I really tried to make them good, too. I'm just going to go grab them." And before you can think or react, he's walking out of the room to grab them.

When he returns with the cookies, he sits down next to you, holding the little plate out to you. You hesitantly take one, nibbling off a little bite, nervously glancing to Charles. "It's fine..." you say. In your taste, too sweet (and slightly gooey) but besides that, alright. "But I just want to get this over with, okay? Charles can we just... have this talk? So I can go?"

Your ex husband stared down, before nodding slowly. "Yeah... Of course." He falters, before murmuring, "I love our son just as much as you do. And it hurts me to see him-"

"My God, Charles, shut up. I know what this is about. It's about you being selfish," the bitterness in your voice surprised even yourself, "You're being selfish because for some twisted reason, you still want to be with me, and you're using my son's pain as an excuse. You're just as you've always been- selfish, lying, and making excuses."

"Y/n, no it's not!" he snaps, his eyes pleading. "I- I- I want the best for our son."

"Charles, do you still love me?"

He stares at you. Hesitates. Falters. He inhales a shaky breath, before looking down at his hands in his lap. "All these years I've never dated another woman. All these years the guilt has crushed me."

"Shut up!" you spit. "It's not guilt, Charles, of hurting me your or son. It's guilt because you wouldn't wanted to be with me longer. It's selfish. You're f*cking selfish!"

He practically begs, "Please, babe, just listen-"

"What did you just call me?"

He stares in surprise at what he just said. He swallows. "I'm sorry- It- It just came out..."

You glare, and shout, "You still love me, you dick! I hate you! You- You cheated on me!"

He cuts you off by grabbing your arm suddenly. There's a desperate look in his eyes. "Y/n... No, I didn't... I swear it on my life.. On my job, on everything I love... I would..." You're shocked to watch as a singular tear gently rolls down one of his cheeks. He's holding back more. The salty, warm tear drops right onto your palm. You wipe it off. Charles eyes plead with you as he murmurs, his voice cracking, "I would never cheat on you..."

You stare, trying to form more words, not knowing what to say.

But Charles continues, "I don't know where you got the idea I cheated on you... I know it was hard and I was being..." Suddenly there is guilt and grief openly painted all across his face. "I was being a terrible person... Giving up the most lovely, sweet wife and baby I could've ever asked for... I was young and stupid, Y/n...Y/n... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I swear I mean it...

"I would do anything for this to work."

Another tear falls.

"Y/n... just listen... I need you to hear me out..."

He sniffs. He seems so broken. Vulnerable. Honest.

"It's all my fault, Y/n. I know. I know. I'm sorry. And I get if you're afraid... I would be, too... but, Y/n... I wish you could just understand that... that...

"Y/n, people change."

Author's Note- Just wanted to say if you guys liked this and want a part two, I'm totally open to writing that! Let me know if you want a part two, and if you have any ideas, shoot! Like should I end this happy? Or not...? And in what way? If no one gives me ideas, I'll just come up with it, but you guys are extremely welcome to let me know!!! Thank you! <3

[purrpletiger]

FRESH DRAWING GUIDE:

Hello everybody, I've come to give you all this absurd reference guide for drawing Fresh. yep. I decided to spend hours slapping this together.

If I got anything wrong or should add anything PLEEEASE lemme know! All ideas welcome!

If you want to see my "research" on this character, let me know in the replies, because there's so much to talk about with him and I'd love to do a character analysis or two, I couldn't put much about his personality or source posts in this because it's just a drawing guide!

Link to all the full images

Transcript and close-ups of the text on the image: (May be in a strange order)

Fresh was created by @loverofpiggies (CQ)

Main Outfit:

YOLO sunglasses

Backwards propeller cap

Pink Polo shirt

Crayola Jacket

Gold Tooth

SWAG fannypack

Convertible Zip-off pants

White Heelie shoes

Pink socks

He has thick eyebrows to emote! (The eyebrows are usually depicted with black hair but one human design has eyebrows that match the pink hair color!)

The bag says SWAG on it

His glasses say YOLO by default, but the letters can magically change mid-scene...

this design for Fresh is Tall, we dunno how tall but taller than CQ's Sans characters (or just Geno since he's literally sans undertale with some added steps). But his height is just his host's height sooo it can vary.

those (cyan and yellow) shoe details are on the innerside but not outerside

HE HAS HEELIES!

Pink glove cuffs!

his skateboard is inconsistent dont worry about it

Glasses Off:

The host's soul shows up in their left eyesocket

- The soul tends to look unstable (cracks & a sortve stroboscopic effect.. i couldn't think of a better word.) but not in some cases...

It doesn't have to be a white upside-down heart, that's just a reference to an undertale monster soul.

He has a purple substance full of little RADs that emanate from his eyesockets (when his sunglasses are off)

"The soul in Fresh's eyes CAN be cracked. That soul isn't his. it belongs to his host. And.... after a while.... things go bad for the host, and he needs a new one." -CQ

(example of soul with unstable effect with no cracks) (example of soul with cracks but lacking the effect)

The purple aura(?) can glow and emanate from the eyes when his glasses are on too

i miss this one design specifically. the colors and the SK8 OR B SK8 shirt were peak

I miss the SWAG necklace...

Fresh leaves a rainbow cloud of smoke when he "poofs". Either teleporting him and his host body somewhere or leaving his host behind.

Human Designs:

Fresh can possess humans too.

They all look physically different because they're different people that he's possessing.

Fresh can possess pretty much any body, but I thought I'd show the varied examples of humans anyway

Don't forget the orange jacket flaps! or his hat propeller!

I dunno what's up with the multicolor tongue thing. I think it was extra parasites in the host's mouth? I feel like it was scrapped at some point... but I could be wrong

FURBIES!:

Oh yeah, he also does this: (no image for the bat tho)

"I mean when he fights he pulls Furbies out of his magical fanny pack. takes out a wiffle bat. and hits the furby at his enemies.

And then the furby explodes in a blaze of glory." -CQ

Despite using some furbies as explosives, he seems to 'care' about and treat these two like precious babies:

This one is potentially named McFreshby The Fresh Furbrah (Fresh is mentioned to have one named that, and this is the only other furby he's been depicted with)

It can also do THIS: (roll its eyes back into a spookier look)

This is DJ FurBs. that's all i know about him

The REAL Parasite:

Fresh is actually this little parasite controlling a host body. (if you didn't know that why are you reading this post rn!?! but nah I love new Fresh fans, welcome!)

The main parasite is this purple one with the eyemouth and four(?) tendrils, the other colored tentacles are prrrobably Fresh's offspring (freshmageddon moment?) (I'm not actually sure, I'm just pretty sure they're not part of the main parasite but are parasite tentacles)

You can also see Fresh's five or more purple tendrils here stretching out all over his host's body

All art from CrayonQueen/@loverofpiggies

Reference guide made by PurrpleParrasite/@purrpletiger

pls suggest changes or additions if u have ideas!

That's all!

[chippedshake]

Marcia shouldn't be out on the East Side alone. She's heard more than enough horror stories from her classmates about girls who go too far out alone to know that it's a stupid decision. But every decision she's made since that Friday back in September has been stupid, so what's one more?

She's not entirely sure why she's going over to his house. He's made it clear that he isn't interested and this just makes her seem like a stalker who can't let go of some stupid flirting that happened nearly six months ago.

When she'd first asked Evie for his address, she'd thought she could surprise him a couple days later by showing up and taking him out. She wanted to wait until he called, though, so she could be sure he'd be home when she passed by. Then the son of a bitch hadn’t called her and months had gone by and she'd gotten pissed.

He'd made it abundantly clear he was into her back at the drive-in. If he wasn’t, why didn't he just reject her? Why make her go through the humiliation of months of waiting?

Now, as she draws her jacket closer around herself to feel a bit safer under all the gazes that follow her trail, she just wants an explanation. No one ever liked her before Two-Bit, not even Randy. They dated out of convenience and he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye when he skipped town.

Marcia's always been everyone’s second choice, just Cherry's best friend, the other one. Until Two-Bit came along. He saw her with Cherry and seemed to really see her. Not a best friend or comic relief or a way to get into someone else's pants. And she let herself get her hopes up like an idiot, thinking that maybe someone who got her would finally like her too.

And then he didn't call her back.

Is there something wrong with her – something so fundamentally wrong that no one could ever really like her?

Oh, God, and now she's knocking on his door and has absolutely no game plan and he's standing in front of her – has he been always that cute? – and his eyes are wide with shock, and she really seems like a stalker, doesn't she?

"I– uh... hi." Marcia looks up at him sheepishly. The anger that’s been boiling in her chest for weeks now seems to have completely disappeared, crumbling into motes of dust that sweep away with the wind.

All she really wants to do now is hug him and bury her face in his chest and tell him all of the remarks she's suppressed during the past few months because once she got a taste of someone clicking with them, it wasn’t the same when they fell flat.

But he doesn't want to have anything to do with her. He couldn’t even bother to call. And this is stupid. This is really, very stupid. Why is she even here?

"Sorry, I– I shouldn’t be here, this is stupid, I'm stupid, I'll go now–" She can't meet his eyes as she turns back around, cheeks burning.

This is why no one likes you. It's not enough that you're weird and awkward and rough and just pretty, not beautiful. You don’t think things through and you're scatterbrained and you're so fucking stupid, it's a wonder Randy even put up with you for so long–

"Wait, Marcia!" Marcia's head jerks up to find Two-Bit jogging towards her. "I don't..." His hand comes up – to run through his hair, to touch her face – but stops midway "I don't think it was stupid. You comin' here. I also don't think you're stupid."

He's close to her. Close enough to see unshed tears she hasn't been able to suppress. Close enough to the see the bags under her eyes from worrying about what to do. Close enough for her to count his freckles, if she wanted to. Close enough for anyone walking by to easily misinterpret the scene they're seeing.

Neither of them step back.

"That’s just 'cause o' the aliens controllin' your mind. You ain't worn your aluminum hat today, right?" Her delivery's off and it doesn't land how she wants it to. It's hard for a joke to sound funny when you're holding back tears.

"I think the one thing me an' the aliens can agree on is that you're better'n most of this town gives you credit for."

It isn't the first time Two-Bit's complimented her, – he used far too many stupid pick-up lines that night they'd met, and about the first thing he'd said to her was that she was sharp – but it is the first time he's said it in earnest, not a hint of wit in his tone. She's almost too surprised to remember why she's there.

"The aliens tell ya not to call me, then?" The dust motes of anger are swept up by a gust of wind and concentrated again, building up to their former glory and crashing down in a final show of power. "Or was that all you?"

Two-Bit raises an eyebrow, trying to seem nonchalant. It's strange that she can read him well enough to notice the subtle surprise as easily as if it were written in bold across his forehead.

"That– that was your real number?"

Marcia makes a sound that's something between a bark of laughter and a scoff. "Of course it was my real number. What, you think I'd give you a phony?"

"Oh, like it was stupid to think you wouldn't give a grease like me your number."

"I wouldn't give my number to a grease like Da– that Shepard boy, but I'd say so to his face," Marcia snaps, and Two-Bit winces at her slip-up. "And I most certainly would give a 'grease like you' my number, because I liked you and I said I would, an' for all the stupid rumours you can hear 'bout me, there ain't a single one 'bout me not keepin' my word."

His smile is crooked and he's raised an eyebrow and Marcia knows she's in trouble in more ways than one before he even opens his mouth.

"Liked me? Not anymore, then. I guess you just came all the way 'round here to tell me how much you don’t care about me."

She cracks a grin of her own because maybe she should still be mad at him but how is she supposed to, when there's that gap between his teeth and that sparkle in his eyes and that tilt to his grin? "Yeah. Can't stand ya, actually."

"I reckon I could change that."

Marcia raises an eyebrow. "You do, do you?"

"How's seven this Saturday?"

"You gonna pick me up or am I gonna hafta walk all the way over here again?"

"You gonna give me your real number or am I gonna hafta go to school just to see you again?"

They're smiling so wide they must look insane to anyone passing by, but neither of them minds as Marcia scribbles her number down onto a piece of paper and gives it over to him.

"Don’t lose it this time."

[rosiesocosy]

I did it! I finally made a cosy list of art prompts for October. This is my version of Inktober! And I call it:

COSYTOBER! 😍

For years I didn't make my own because I figured, I'm just a really small artist and basically have no reach, so who is going to join in, you know? And that really hasn't changed much. 😂 However, I really want to do this at least once in my life. And I feel if there was ever a time to do it, this is it. In between hospital visits and struggling with real life stuff, I need some cosy art.

Here are the cosy prompts for October:

Pumpkin

Leaf

Broom

Bunny

Fox

Frog

Soup

Mushroom

Book

Moon

Rainbow

Witch

Cat

Hedgehog

Ladybug

Brew

Ghost

Picnic

Owl

Rain

Forest

Cosy

Hat

Wand

Spooky

Pie

Magic

Bee

Sparkles

Cauldron

Halloween

All human-made art is welcome. Traditional and digital. Whether you like sketching, drawing, or painting, everyone can join in! Maybe you prefer cross stitching, sewing, modelling clay, or paper crafts. As long as it's creative and created by you! Everyone is free to participate.

Please tag me (I'm RosieSoCosy on all the socials) and use hashtag #cosytober2024 so I can find your work!

Don't worry about having to do all of them. I know the pressure prompt lists can give, and I want this to be fun and cosy. If you can't do them all, that's fine. So do whatever works for you. ❤

I will be sharing my own progress on my blog, here, and other socials. I will check out and share my favourite entries. I might stream some of this over on Twitch. If you plan on streaming/recording the prompts, let me know, and I'll try my best to watch!

Happy Cosy Spooky Season! 🎃🍂

[diana-bluewolf]

For @lil-grem-draws ↓↓↓

Chris and Misha sat on a carpet of fallen leaves at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was a perfect autumn day, warm and sunny. Chris’s mood wasn’t so bright, though. He looked down to a piece of parchment in his hands, then leaned back on Misha.

“Today is Elland’s birthday,” he said gloomily.

Misha perked up his ears. 

“What’s a birthday? To be honest, I don’t fully understand it, but it’s the day when a person was born. Humans often celebrate it. Some kind of tradition, people love those meaningless things.”

Misha yawned.

"Exactly! Anyway, they give that person presents. Don't ask why - I don't know. Maybe so that they don't feel depressed about being a year closer to death," Chris shrugged and looked at the parchment again. 

"I hope he never knows how many attempts it took me, but I sketched something. I don't even know what for; he doesn't look like the kind of person who enjoys staring at themselves," Chris paused, absentmindedly scratching behind Misha's ear, his gaze fixed on the dance of shadows cast by the leaves on the ground.

Then he suddenly flipped the parchment over and scribbled something on the back. "There, I fixed it. But there's another problem I can't solve."

He wrinkled his nose.

“The last time we talked… I think I might have offended him. You see, he had always been so,” Chris waved his hand as if shooing away an annoying fly, “kind. So generous and always ready to help. Of course, I thought he needed something from me. So I finally asked him about it directly.”

Misha rested his head on his paws and didn’t look intrigued.

“All normal people would have already told me what’s the deal, but he…Well, I know, it’s stupid, but what if he…What if there was really nothing hidden behind his kindness? What if he is just like that? Just recently, I thought unicorns were a fairytale, so what if he is, you know, a unicorn?” 

Misha snorted.

"Look, I know it's hard to believe, but I have no more theories left; he's just that weird," Chris tiredly rubbed his forehead. "There's that new book about that clever bloke in a hat. He said, "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." 

They kept silent for a while, listening to the forest’s soothing sounds. 

"He once met me drunk at Hogsmeade," Chris finally continued. "Don't look at me like this! I had never tried alcohol before, and I had no idea that even a small amount of it would impact me that much, alright? Still can't forgive myself for being that vulnerable in public. Anyway, my point is, even though I don't remember much, he looked…worried? Besides, wouldn't you try to use this opportunity to your advantage if you need something from someone?” 

Misha sneezed.

"Yes! I would for sure, too! But he didn't."

Chris held the parchment out in front of Misha's nose. 

“So what do you think? Should I give it to him?” 

Misha looked at the parchment, tilting his head as if pondering about a wise response to the situation, and then slapped his paw on it, leaving a big dirty footprint. 

“Oh, thank you very much,” Chris mumbled sarcastically, pulling the parchment out from under the paw, “I guess it’s a no since it's spoiled anyway. Fine, that makes things easier.” He sighed, crumpled the parchment and carelessly shoved it into his pocket. 

They had sat in silence for several minutes before Chris attempted to stand up, but Misha hastily grabbed the boy’s sleeve with his teeth. 

"Sorry buddy, I don't want to come back, too,” Chris gently petted Misha's ear, smiling guiltily, “but people think I'm one of them, so I have to follow their rules and school schedule. Well, sometimes. I'll visit you as soon as I can, deal?"

***

Elland was sitting in the Great Hall during dinner when a crumpled piece of parchment hit the back of his head. He looked around, but there weren't any signs of someone who could throw it.

[dvzaiosamu]

𓇼 SUMMERTIME JOY | chuuya nakahara. A little one-shot where you and Chuuya are on the beach enjoying everything. As simple as that! It may not be very long, but I hope you like it.

Hello everyone! It's been a long time since I logged in to write something. As I just took my summer vacation, I want to wish everyone a happy summer and enjoy it. These days I had no motivation to write and I left everything half done in my drafts. But now I'll try to make the effort to write something!

The sun in the sky looked like a colored drawing, even childish if you looked at it another way.

It was summer and damn right it felt like summer. You felt the sand between your feet, warm to the touch. A bikini and a beach hat. Everything was perfect and like a vacation away from everything, disconnecting and sharing emotions with the sea.

Underneath was a beach towel and a hammock tied to two trees. Next to it you had a frozen box with multiple foods and refreshing drinks as well as a bag with sunscreen and so on.

And your husband is there too.

At your side is Chuuya, who has taken the vacation very personally. There he is lying in a hammock that is tied to two trees, cocktail in his hand. Black sunglasses on his head, bare skin with a thin open jacket on top, beach shorts and some flip flops lying around.

"Hey, Chuuya... Do you remember when we were still little and we always came to this beach?" you find yourself asking.

"Of course I remember, you were a disaster," he smiles. "Why do you ask?"

"Well...do you remember when we ran into the water to take a dip?" you continue. "I wonder if instead of staying here in the sun, we'd go there to… you know."

"If my beautiful wife says so, I don't have a big problem," leaving his finished cocktail on the sand, he stands next to you. "Come on."

Walking with him towards the seashore, smiling like you've never done before, you feel a disconnection from the outside world, not worrying about work, enjoying a good vacation.

You were thinking, and you feel arms lift you up, bridal style. You laugh at Chuuya's expression, one of determination and like he was so focused on getting you to the water, it seemed like his face expressed a lot of effort.

"The water is freezing... Don't you think you should let me get used to it?" you say, feeling the water cover your knees.

"The only thing you have to get used to is that tonight we are going to celebrate our vacation in a house that I bought for this vacation," he responds, leaving you in the water, where you can still touch the sand with your feet.

"What a gentleman you are."

"For you I can be anything—"

A palm of water is thrown at Chuuya's face, wetting his hair.

"Take that!"

"What was that for!" complains Chuuya.

"Nothing really! Just making this more fun for the two of us," you laugh like a child.

"Oh yeah?" he splashes water all over you. "Then this is a sweet revange."

"Ack— c'mon! Not salt in the eyes!" you whine.

Well. What a vacation. Is this what humans call to be happy with one's lover? I believe it is.

Do you know the worst? I had written all of this before, it didn't save when I accidentally clicked on a notification and I had to rewrite it entirely. But hey, although this one didn't turn out the best, and it's a bit short, maybe incoherent, at least I hope it's something for my dear followers :3

[maiko-san]

TADC x Robotic Jester! Reader (Part 3)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Continuation of the previous parts :D, I literally forgot one character that is Kaufmo. Even though he's not in the pilot, the poor guy deserves love! I know this is a short chapter but Kaufmo kinda deserves one tbh. Too many Jax x readers around lol.

ft. Kaufmo

Warning : slight angst

There's nothing much to do around the circus as of late, Caine had been busy with his work/project and the others are doing their own things or minding their own business.

You're in Gangle's room and watch her draw characters from anime, even though she couldn't remember much about the characters or how they used to look like. Every time she draws, she feels that she is getting the characters so right!

"Look, here (Y/o/n)!" Gangle smiles as she holds up her finished drawing of an animal with a large red hat.

"A raccoon?" you questioned tilting your head to the side. "No, silly! It's a reindeer! A doctor too!" Gangle said. "Hehehe~ I'm just messing with ya, Ribbons!" you said.

"Hey, look what I've drawn!" you said. Holding up a badly drawn of yourself with Gangle with the word 'Weeb Besties' on top with hearts all over. Gangle gasps and takes the paper from you, "I'm going to pin it on my wall!" she said, hugging the drawing. She walks over to her board and pins it on the large board filled with all kinds of arts she had done.

"(Y/o/n), let's play mario—" before Gangle could finish, both of you were teleported to the stage.

Turns out, there were new people on the stage.

Kaufmo

A clown?! Gasps! A stage buddy! Yippe :D

Kaufmo, a name that was given to the newcomer by Caine. At first, the poor guy was in a panic mess, well who wouldn't when you enter a whole different dimension in an instant.

"What—wh—where am I?! Why can't I get this thing off?????!!!" Kaufmo shrieks as he begin pulling on his face, Jax snorts "Try pulling harder, maybe you could rip—" you instantly slaps your hand on the rabbits's mouth to shut him up.

LICK— "Waa! Eew! Gross!" you cringe when Jax licks your palm as the purple rabbit gives you a smug grin.

Caine had taken Kaufmo on an instant tour around the place.

The clown didn't take it too well.

The guy was in a nervous wreck and running around the tent to find an escape from the digital realm.

"Exit! Where's the exit!" he shrieked. Jax on the other hand kinda had enough with his screaming and left, leaving you and the others.

"Alright, let's calm down and take a deep breath" Ragatha said as she walked over to Kaufmo to calm him down.

Due to Ragatha's expertise at calming people, Kaufmo finally calms down.

Everyone introduced themselves to the clown and it was your turn, "Hello, there Kaufmo! My name is (Y/o/n) the robotic jester! Hey, wanna hear a joke?" you said with a grin.

Somehow both of you became partners in the circus!

You and Kaufmo would do tricks together and tell jokes to each other, even Kaufmo's jokes weren't the best ( most of his jokes were consists of dad jokes btw ). Being a good partner, you help him improve!

Like Kinger, Kaufmo sees you as a good friend. Like you do with Gangle, you protect him from Jax's pranks and mockeries.

But even when you try to get his mind off the exit, it won't stop him or change his mind. Kaufmo were glad that you wanted to help him but....

He really wants to go home.....

"(Y/o/n)....I'm thankful that you want to help me but...I miss home and...my family. I know they are waiting for me" Kaufmo said. with a deep frown on his face. You stare into his black beady eyes as you rub your arm and look away.

"Don't you miss yours, (Y/o/n)?" your eyes widen slightly at Kaufmo's question, "I wish I could be like you, ya know....Like don't worry about anything at all? All of your feelings are so genuine unlike the others, like you belong in this place....." Kaufmo said, fiddling with his gloves.

"Well, I— uh" you were cut off by a voice.

"Now, what's with all of these frowning I see?" a voice echoes, both of you look up to see the moon looking down at the two of you.

"Oh, w-we were just talking...." you said, rubbing the back of your neck "I-I I think I want to go back to my room, see you tomorrow I guess..." you said as you speed your way back to your room. On your way, you see Jax walking by and he sees you. He folds his arms behind him and extends his leg once you got close.

He trips you as you fall on the ground, but you were too deep in your thoughts to even bother about Jax tripping you.

A question mark appears on Jax's head as he watches you enter your designated room, slamming the door shut. Jax's grin left his lips, he never sees you acting like that before and it kinda bothers him to see you like that.

"Pft....they'll get over it" he snorts as he walks away but he still couldn't shake off the feelings.

Once you're in your room, you lock the door and lean on the wooden door before sliding down and sit on the floor. You cover your face with your hands and cry.....

Now that Kaufmo said it, "I u-understand how it felt...." you mumbled to yourself. Yes, you also miss your family.

Especially your beloved uncle, you couldn't remember what he look like anymore and every time you want to remember, it was all a blur in your mind.....

He was the only family you had left.....

You'd hope that he's doing alright....

You look up at a drawn picture of yourself (avatar form) and a man with a question mark on his face, both of you are holding hands.

There is a word written, "Greatest Uncle in the world".

"I...I miss you" you sobbed, rubbing away your tears.

[preservationofnormalcy]

Ok, so I’m writing a novel involving paranormal investigation (no relation to you, takes place in a fictional town) and I’m on my third draft when the main character shows up behind me, grabs and turns me around to tell me of the “inaccuracies to his case”. Now I wrote them down and how I should change them. And when I looked up from my notepad, he was gone.

I want to continue, and most of these I feel like I can implement within the story, but what exactly happened? And if this becomes a series, will he continue to pop up, or was it one of those “one in a blue moon scenarios”?

And what do I do if it isn’t?

Hey Norm...

Hmm? Didn't you do a PSA about this exact subject in the nineties?

Oh, uh, sure. When I first started. Around '99. It's waaay outdated, now, you know, with the internet and everything, it's better to not even look it up. I don't think it was even digitized, really. I have no idea what happened to it.

Oh, Norm, don't worry! If there's one person who knows your filing system better than you, it's me! Let's see...H for Holmes, S for Sherlock...cross reference to P for Parafictional, 90s...HERE WE GO! "Dear Watson: That's Not Holmes, That's A Lure!"

Oh good, they put it on a disc so that a tech savvy person could find it, uh, twenty five years later. I wouldn't play it, I can't guarantee--

<An old, color degraded video begins playing. It's clearly shot on VHS, with a minimal budget, and had degraded somewhat before being transferred to digital. A man stands in a small, cinderblock room in front of a backdrop depicting a victorian study. He is wearing a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows and a pair of smart slacks. A deerstalker hat sits conspicuously on a stack of actual books, Sherlock Holmes novels. The man himself looks sort of like what you'd get if you focus-group-tested the only type of man Don Bluth knew how to draw, and has curtain bangs with frosted tips. The whole ensemble has the energy of a store-brand Milo Thatch. As he speaks, his eyes don't leave a fixed point behind the camera.>

So. You have encountered an entity from a fictional property. You're excited - maybe you wanted to talk to your favorite book character. Or. Maybe you are a writer and you are excited to talk to your protagonist. But...is that entity real?

<There's an extremely awkward camera change, and the man looks to it, his eyes following a point again.>

....or a lure?

<He leans back and there is a too-long pause before he continues.>

When encountering a parafictional manifestation, remember the three S's.

<The visuals change to a grainy blue background, white text appearing as the man's voiceover continues.>

Solidity: are you are this entity is physical and not all in your head?

Subjective: if it's real, are other people seeing the same thing?

Sentience: is this entity sentient, or merely approximating sentience? Is it answering questions like a sentient entity, or like how it would be expected to answer?

<It cuts back to the man, standing behind the chair with his hands on the back. There is a too-long pause again.>

If...uh.

If this entity doesn't pass any of these easy-to-remember checks, that's a red flag. Any number of malicious extranormal entities can exploit the human capacity for creativity in order to feed on our psychic energy, creating a non-sentient construct we call a "Chinese Room" in order to keep YOU from asking questions.

Remember next time you see Darth Vader, Spider-man, or Tarzan - are you so incredibly lucky to experience such a rare phenomena as true parafictional manifestation?

<He awkwardly puts a pipe in his mouth and blows a few bubbles.>

Or are you being lured?

<The video ends.>

....god, my hair.

[vodika-vibes]

Cowboy Casanova

Summary: When you decided to move to the middle of nowhere to get some perspective in your life, you expect to be bored out of your mind. You definitely don’t expect Bacara.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader

Word Count: 4123

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, biting, hints of a breeding kink

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @dukeoftheblackstar @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: This started out at one thing, turned into another, which turned into a third thing, and anyway it's now what it was supposed to be so I had to change the name, which makes me sad. The Original name was Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy. Anyway! I hope you like my sin. Also, this is a western au because...I don't have a reason other than Bacara with a cowboy hat. I'm sorry. Anyway, no requests got done today because of this. Note, this isn't edited - so if you see any errors, no you didn't.

“You’re staring,”

“Am not.” You reply absently as you drag your gaze across Bacara’s bare chest, your eyes lingering first on his dog tags and then on the nipple piercings that he got when he lost a bet.

He chuckles, low and deep, “You’re still staring.”

“If you don’t want to be stared at, then you should put on a shirt.” You counter, unrepentant.

Bacara arches a brow and flings a rag at your face, making you sputter and scrunch up your nose, “You wouldn’t say that if I was staring at you.”

“Of course not. Double standards are a thing after all.”

He rolls his eyes and walks over to you, leaning into your personal space as he picks up his rag again, a smug smirk crossing his face when your gaze drops to his chest and then his waist, before snapping back to his face, “See something you like, city mouse?”

Your face heats, but you keep your gaze locked with his, “Just worried that your pants are going to fall down since they’re hanging so low.”

“Fashion choice,” Bacara replies with a shrug, as he walks away from you and back over to the machine he’s trying to make work, “Besides, it’s hot as balls out here, and I hate the feel of my shirt sticking to my skin.”

Well, he’s not wrong about that.

Bacara leans back into the engine block and reaches in, “Why don’t you just pay someone to come and fix it?” You ask.

“You have the money for some repair man from the city to drive out here and fix this? Cause I sure as hell don’t.”

“You own, like, a dozen cows.”

“There are three dozen of them, actually.”

“That’s not the point that you think it is.”

He laughs and pulls back, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Come here, I need a small hand.”

“I don’t fix things, Bacara.” You warn, though you do hop off the bale of hay that you’ve been sitting on and walk over to him.

“You need to learn, city mouse. What happens if something breaks in your home?”

“Uh, I’ll call you.”

“What if I’m not available?”

“Why wouldn’t you be available?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t exist to come running at your beck and call.” Bacara replies dryly.

“What? Wow! Really?” You marvel sarcastically, and then you yelp when he pinches your side. “Rude!”

“Alright, Little Miss Sass, I need you to reach into there and feel around for any loose wires.” Bacara explains as he presses his chest against your back and points where he needs your help.

“Wires? I’m not going to get electrocuted, am I?” You ask as you try, really, really hard to not get distracted at the feel of him pressed against you.

He shoots you a look, “Of course not. It’s totally safe.”

“Fiiine.” You sigh out as you reach into the opening and feel around blindly, “Um...okay, I found a wire.”

“Excellent work,” His voice is low against your ear, and you can’t help but shiver. Embarrassingly, he notices and a quiet chuckle falls from him, “I need you to follow the wire and tell me if it’s connected on both ends.”

You ignore him, as best as you can, and feel around for a moment, “I...think so? It doesn’t feel loose at least.”

“Damn, I was hoping you’d say the opposite. Alright, pretty girl. You’re done. This is now, officially, someone elses problem.”

You pull your hand out and make a face at the oil on your fingers, “I thought you didn’t want to pay-”

“I don’t, which is why I’ll have Neyo come and fix it.”

“Ripping off your own brothers, shame-”

“What are brothers for if not a little unpaid labor every now and then?” Bacara asks rhetorically, “Come on, you can come inside and get that stuff off your hand.” He picks his hat up off his work table, and pauses before setting it on his head.

He shoots you a small smirk, and drops his hat on your head, it immediately tilts over your eyes, and you use the back of your hand to tilt the rim back so you can look at him, “Well, how do I look?” You ask with a small grin.

Bacara lazily drags his gaze across your body, his smirk growing, “Hot as hell,” He drawls.

Your face heats again. Still, you’re not able to stop the delight from sliding across your face, “Well, thank you~”

He stares at you for a moment longer, and then motions for you to follow him. It’s kind of unnecessary, you could navigate Bacara’s ranch blindfolded and drunk, but you do appreciate being able to walk with him.

After you get yourself cleaned up, which takes a lot longer than you anticipated since the oil just did not want to come off your hands, you meander from the guest bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen.

He’s still not wearing a shirt, and you’re beginning to think that he’s walking around like that intentionally. “Did you manage to get the oil off?” Bacara asks as he turns to face you.

“Yeah, eventually. The bottle of special soap was empty, so I had to make some more real quick.” You shrug easily as you sink into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. You don’t mind, you normally make it for him anyway.

Your parents would be so proud. Thousands of credits spent on a fancy Chem degree...and you use it mixing oil removing soap.

“Sorry about that, I should have checked earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You fold your legs under you, and your attention lands on something interesting on the table.

Now. Bacara is a rancher, there’s always new and interesting things laying around his house that he needs to explain to you. Over the year that you’ve been friends with him, you’ve learned a lot about ranching and about the things that he needs to do his job well.

This, however, is new.

“Bacara?” You sound slightly bemused as you reach across the table and hook a finger under, surprisingly silky, maroon rope, “What’s this for?” You ask as you turn your gaze to him.

Unless your eyes are deceiving you, there’s a hint of a blush on his face.

“It’s a joke gift. From Cody.” Bacara replies as he walks over to the table and picks up the rope, only to hesitate for a moment, “Although-” he murmurs quietly, as if to himself, as he pulls some of the rope out and lays it across your wrist, “It would look amazing wrapped around your wrists.”

You tilt your head and your mouth is slightly dry, you’re pretty sure that his comment was meant to be an inside thought, not an outside one, but it’s not like you can unring that bell.

“I think it’d look better wrapped around yours.” You blurt, and his gaze snaps to meet yours, “The color would look amazing against your skin tone.” You add, sheepishly.

He stares at you, and you stare right back at him.

And just as you’re about to apologize, Bacara smirks.

“Alright.”

You blink at him, “Alright?”

“Alright. Lets see what you’re capable of.”

You blink at him again. And then a third time as his words process, “Wait! Really?”

“Really. Unless you think you can’t handle it.”

“I can handle it,” You shoot back, “The question is can you?”

He folds his arms across his broad chest, “Let’s make this a little more fun-”

“-more fun then you getting tied up?”

His grin is predatory and sharp, “I don’t beg. Ever. For anyone.” He advances on you, “However, if you can make me beg in say...an hour, you win this little challenge and I’ll do whatever you want for a week.”

“You already do whatever I want, Bacara.” You point out.

“Unimportant.” He replies, “But when you lose-”

“-if. If I lose-”

His gaze locks with yours and his grin becomes even more predatory, “When you lose,” Bacara repeats, “I get two hours to make you beg for me, and when I win you’ll do whatever I want for a week.”

“Hold on now! How come you get two hours and I only get one?” You demand.

“Because I’m going to spend the first hour with my face buried in your pussy, that’s why.”

Your entire thought process screeches to a halt as your train of thought derails. “...oh.”

“So what do you say, city mouse? Do we have a deal?”

And, really, there’s only one thing you can say to that, “Deal.”

Bacara advances on you again, essentially crowding you, as he walks you through his home and into his bedroom. His eyes a glittering with arousal, but he doesn’t touch you, as much as you can tell that he wants to.

He kicks the bedroom door shut and turns on the lamp so there’s some light in the room, and then he folds his arms and waits.

You gaze at him thoughtfully, a small smile on your lips, “You’re wearing too much. Strip.”

His gaze is hot as it lingers on your face, “Yes ma’am,”

You consider watching him strip for a moment, but instead turn to the bed and start setting up the rope, while pulling out your phone to look up safe ways to tie him up.

“Alright,” You murmur to yourself as you make sure the ropes are secure around the bed frame, and you climb off the bed to focus your attention on him, “Pick a position that’s comfortable for you, Bacara.” You say as you carefully don’t take your eyes off his face.

“Not even gonna steal a peek, kitten?” Bacara asks, as he moves passed you and settles on the bed, with his back pressed against the headboard.

“I lady doesn’t peek, Bacara,” You sniff.

“Oh? Do they tie up their friends.”

“I can leave you know.”

He laughs and grabs your wrist to tug you onto the bed, you tumble against him, your hands settling on his shoulders, as he reaches around you to settle his hand on the back of your neck, “I want you to look, kitten. After all, I need to know if I meet your approval.” You have to shift to get more comfortable, eventually straddling his thigh so you’re not twisted uncomfortably.

You roll your eyes, but slowly drag your gaze down his chest, a nearly silent sigh of delight falling from you when you see that he’s still wearing his dog tags. Bacara chuckles lowly, and you hurriedly continue your visual perusal of the man beneath you.

He’s solid, your Bacara. Oh sure, he has a belly, but you’re pretty sure that he’s solid muscle, like the professional weight lifters you used to know in college. Big, beefy, and could lift you with one arm if he was so inclined.

Absently you trail your fingers down his chest, teasingly skirting around the nipple piercings, and down his stomach, and then your gaze lands on his cock.

Already erect and with precum leaking from the head.

He’s gorgeous.

But that’s not what catches your attention. No. What catches your attention is the golden piercings.

You blink at the piercings dumbly for a moment. “Holy shit Bacara.” You blurt, “Why didn’t you say that you had cock piercings?”

“Not really something that comes up in polite conversations,” He counters with a grin.

“But...If I had know then my-” You cut yourself off before you finish the thought, and you snap your gaze to his face, “Never mind.”

“Oh no, you definitely need to finish that thought, kitten.” Bacara practically purrs, “Come on, your what?”

“Nope. Not going there.” You shift your weight slightly, and reach down to grab his wrist, but Bacara doesn’t let you move it. “Really?”

He smirks, “Tell me, and I’ll let you tie me up.”

“Don’t you automatically lose if you don’t let me even try?” You try to bargain.

His smirk widens, “No, because I saw that look on your face. You want my face in your pussy.”

Damn him for being right.

“Fine,” You drag the word out, “I might have fantasized about you before. Maybe.”

He smirks smugly, “Knew it. Alright, you may continue.”

“I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to be the one in control right now.” You counter, even as you bring his hand to the headboard and carefully loop the rope around his wrist.

Bacara hums and his still free hand comes up to caress your hip, “Oh, kitten. I need you to understand that I’m letting you do this. But I need you to know that I’m the one in control here, not you.”

Your fingers slip on the rope, “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that for the sake of the challenge.” You finally say once you finish with your knot, “How’s that? Too tight?”

Bacara tugs at the rope experimentally, “Good enough.” He finally says, as he lifts his other hand to the headboard.

You’re a lot faster this time, now that you know what you’re doing, and you sit back on your heels as you look at him. “I was right,” You finally say as you climb off of him so you’re able to peel your own clothes off.

“Bout what?” Bacara asks as he watches you strip with hungry eyes.

“That color does look amazing against your skin.”

He hums his understanding, tilting his head so he’s able to watch you push your shorts and panties down your legs. “I can just about guarantee that it’s going to look much better against yours.”

You set your clothes on a chair and climb on the end of the bed, settling yourself between his feet.

Bacara looks completely relaxed, and you’re beginning to accept that he was right, he is the one in control here, as much as it might seem like you are. “Just gonna sit there and stare at me, kitten?” He drawls.

“I’m thinking.”

“Do you need some direction?” He offers, “Because I can do that.”

“I’m not giving up yet, Bacara.” You counter as you slide up so that you’re better able to reach him, your fingers feather light as you glide them across his thigh.

His muscle twitches under your touch, “Yet, huh.” Bacara says with a small smirk, “Good to know.”

Finally fed up with his comments, you surge up and crash your lips against his. Your hands wander across his chest, lightly flicking his piercings, as you trail your tongue across his lower lip.

You’re almost surprised when he takes control of the kiss.

Almost.

He catches your lower lip between his teeth, and nips you roughly enough that a squeak falls from you. Bacara then soothes the sore spot with a lazy swipe of his tongue, and the moment you part your lips for him, his tongue slides against your own.

He maps out your mouth with a single minded intensity that leaves you moaning, and encourages you to straddle him again. When you break the kiss, you’re slightly breathless, and his gaze is dark as is slides across your face.

“You should give up, kitten.” Bacara purrs.

You shake your head, “I can still win.”

He laughs, “You’re already straddling me, and we haven’t done much more than kissing.”

“That-”

“I’ll make you feel so good, kitten.” He purrs as he tugs his wrist once, causing the knot to unravel. He presses his hand against the small of your back, and pulls you closer, and you shiver when you feel his hard erection pressed against you.

Unthinkingly, you grind against him, the head of his cock pressing deliciously against your clit and a moan fall from your lips as you do so.

His arm hooks tightly around your waist, and he pulls you closer so that he’s able to trail his lips against your throat, “Say you give up, kitten. And I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

Your lips turn down into a small pout.

“We can try this again later,” He promises, very temptingly, “After you’ve had some time to prepare properly.”

You peer at him, and then release a heavy sigh, and reach up to untie his other hand, “This isn’t me giving up.”

“Of course not.” Bacara agrees, suspiciously easily, “But, it is you forfeiting, which means it’s my turn.”

You squeak as he flips you so that you’re under him, smoothly using one hand to pin your hand over your head and tying them together and to the headboard.

Bemused, you tug on the ropes, but there’s no give whatsoever, “How-”

“Practice. I’ll teach you properly for next time.”

“...this game was designed for me to lose from the get go, wasn’t it.”

He grins and leans over you, his lips hovering just over yours, “Good girl, I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Not gonna deny that.” He replies before he kisses you deeply, but quickly.

And then he’s moving down your body, biting marks into the soft skin of your neck and throat, across your collar, and down your chest. You squirm and writhe under his attention, biting your lower lip to keep yourself quiet.

He takes a quick moment to lavish your nipples with attention, before he’s moving again. At this, you’re unable to keep yourself from gasping out his name, and you feel his lips curl up into a smile against your breast.

Bacara litters your stomach and sides with possessive marks and then he leaves a trail of bite marks from your hip to your thighs. By this point, you’re a moaning mess, you don’t care if this means that he wins, you just don’t want him to stop.

And only then, when he’s sure that you’re covered in his marks, and when you’re whining for him, does he spread your legs to make room for himself between your thighs.

“Look at you,” Bacara praises lightly as he drags a single finger between your folds, a pleased smirk crossing his face as your hips twitch towards him, “You’re already wet. Do you have a biting kink, kitten?”

Your face burns at his words, and you stubbornly press your lips together to not say anything.

Bacara clicks his tongue, and his hand lands, heavily, on your outer thigh. It surprises you more than it hurts you, and you blink at him wide eyed, “I asked you a question.”

You know what he wants to hear. Even though you’re so horny that you almost can’t stand it. Even though his large, calloused finger is circling your clit in a way that is kind of driving you insane. You still know what he wants to hear.

What he’s expecting to hear.

Your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips, and you plaster on your most innocent expression, “Did you?” You ask, slightly breathlessly as you clench around nothing from his teasing, “I wasn’t listening.”

Bacara stops. His fingers stop moving, and his hand, which was caressing your thigh and the red mark blooming there, stops moving as well. He searches your face for something, and then a slow smirk crosses his lips.

“Safe word or color?”

Your heart racing with excitement, you breath out, “Color.”

He hums, “What color are you?”

“Green.” You blurt, “Very green.”

For a moment, there’s a glimmer of something warm and soft on his handsome face, before it’s gone. “So, it sounds like you are able to listen.”

“When I want to.”

“Then it sounds like I just need to teach you that you need to listen to me, doesn’t it?”

You feel a thrill of delight, “If you ever said anything worth listening to-” You words get cut off with a ragged moan as he suddenly thrusts a finger into your pussy and curls it, almost instinctively finding the spot deep inside you that makes you see stars.

“I’m going to tell you how this is going to go,” Bacara says, a hint of promise in his voice, “I’m going to give you as many orgasms as I want, you are only allowed to cum when I allow it.” He eases his finger out of your pussy, and licks it clean with an appreciative hum, “And, if you don’t obey me, I’ll have to punish you.”

“Punish?” You ask.

He just smirks, “Do you understand? Answer verbally.”

“I understand,”

“Good girl,” He gives himself a couple of lazy strokes as he examines your splayed out body appreciatively. “I did say that I was going to bury my face in your pussy, didn’t I.” He muses, loud enough that you’re able to hear him, “But I don’t think you’ve earned that.”

That pulls an unhappy noise from your lips, and he chuckles, “Only good girls get to have their pussy eaten, and you haven’t been a good girl.” He releases your legs, letting them fall back to the bed, before he reaches up to check the ropes one more time, and then flips you, making sure that the ropes didn’t twist in such a way to hurt you. “There we go,” Bacara murmurs as he smooths his hand over your ass and then squeezes roughly

You squirm under him, but settle when you feel his hand press against your lower back. He quickly eases a pillow under your hips and adjusts your legs so that you’re spread wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you for a moment, though you can feel his heavy gaze dragging against you body. Just as you start to squirm, a little self conscious about being so exposed, his hands are on you again.

His hands are calloused and heavy on your body, and you’re sure you’re going to have bruises from his hands covering your body, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care as his hands press into you.

And then you don’t care about anything as the blunt head of his cock presses against you. Slowly he eases inch after inch inside you, and you’re squirming and whining before he’s even halfway sheathed.

The piercing feels amazing inside you, and you find yourself clenching around him.

Bacara groans and bites down on the back of your neck, “No cumming, kitten.” He warns as he slowly pushes the rest of the way in. As soon as he’s bottomed out, he presses a light kiss to the mark on the back of your neck.

He doesn’t move for a moment, and then he slowly eases out, until only the head of his cock is inside you. Bacara waits a beat, until you squirm to try and get him to move again, and then he thrusts in hard and fast.

He keeps the rapid pace, his breath hot against your ear, his hand fisted in your hair to keep your head down.

The sensations of his hand in your hair, and low groans in your ear, adding to the amazing feeling of his piercings dragging against your walls and the delicious stretch of his cock, are too much to handle.

And try as you might, you’re not able to keep yourself from cumming with a cry of his name.

You feel him laugh, “That’s punishment 1, kitten.”

“Not my fault-” You gasp, “Feels too good.”

“Oh? What’s that? Harder you said?” Bacara asks, as he adjusts himself slightly, before he leans in and catches your earlobe between his teeth. Before he does exactly as he warned, thrusting hard enough that you release a noise that is something between a moan and a sob of sheer pleasure.

“Good girl,” Bacara purrs, “You’re taking me so well.” He smooths his hand up your spine, “Such a willing little thing,” He coos in your ear, “I’m going to ruin you, kitten.” He catches your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue sliding against yours.

“Please,” You whisper, “Please ruin me.”

For half a moment, Bacara’s hips stutter, and he releases a deep groan. “Oh, princess. Gladly.” He pulls out completely, pulling a disapproving whine from your lips and then he flips you back onto your back, before he thrusts back into you hard and fast. “I’m going to stuff you full of my cum, princess.” He promises, “Over and over and over, until I’m good and done.”

“Cara-” You whine his name as you arch against him as best as you can.

“So, be my good girl and take all of me,” He orders as he leans in and catches your lips in a passionate kiss, “Be my good girl, and I’ll ruin you.” He promises, his gaze dark.

And, really, how can you do anything other than obey him after that promise.

[jar-of-maise]

"Um Lyney," Paimon began, in an uncharacteristically hesitant voice.

"Oh? It isn't like you to be so shy, please go on, what's on your mind?" Lyney asked, looking up at her curiously.

Paimon looked at Aether anxiously, then floated a little closer to him, shedding sparkles as she flew, "well, some of the kids were telling us about how you tell them about fairytales..." She begins.

"Ah!" Lyney snaps his fingers, "are you here to ask me to tell you some stories? Well why didn't you say so?" He hops up easily, gracefully revealing several embossed hardcover books which fall out of his hat.

"Take a pick! There are many here, don't be shy," Lyney says cheerfully, showing the books off happily, "this one is a personal favourite," he winks at Aether.

The cover is of a golden-haired prince, drawing a sword from his sheath, sparkles dance around his figure. White armour adorns his strong figure. "It's a pretty cover...but," Paimon begins, raising a finger.

Lyney raises his eyebrows, "oh? Not to your taste? That's alright," he twirls the book around on his fingers, then tosses it up in the air, where it disappears after a sharp snap of his fingers.

"How about this one? It's about a mermaid and her journey to the human world," Lyney offers, smiling at Paimon and Aether as he shows them the book.

"Well, they're all very nice but–" Paimon tries again.

"Goodness! Have you always driven such a hard bargain?" Lyney asks comically, shaking his head, the books tumble down from his hands as he sighs in defeat.

"Lyney." Lynette says with a deadpan look on her face, "they probably want you to tell them a specific story."

"Yeah!" Paimon exclaims, "thank you Lynette!"

"No worries," Lynette says, crossing her arms and nodding, "my brother does have a habit of talking too much," she says, tail swishing side to side.

"Hey! I'm still here you know!" Lyney cries.

Lynettte fixes him with a very exasperated glare, "I know."

"Oh Lynette, how could you be so cruel to your dear brother?" Lyney whines, slumping, a few cards slipping out from underneath his hat. They fall sadly onto the ground, like limp autumn leaves.

"Um..." Aether begins, "we were hoping to hear about the story you created for the kids here," he says hopefully.

"The story...I made?" Lyney asks, perking up, "you want to hear my stories?" He asks in a tone so innocent that Aether can't help but feel endeared by his excitement.

"Yeah! Of course we do, you're a great storyteller Lyney!" Paimon cheers, "yeah!" Aether agrees, nodding vigorously.

"Well then," Lyney gathers his cards in one sweeping motion, shoving them back into his hat, "I can't disappoint my audience then, can I? Please take a seat, the show will be put on momentarily." Lyney grins, gesturing at the table in front of them.

"Please help yourself," Lynette says in a monotone voice as Paimon and Aether slid into their seats. She places her hat onto the table, and once she removes it, trays and plates of snacks appear magically.

"Wow! Thank you! Paimon's digging in then!"

Lynette nods, satisfied, she pours herself a cup of tea and takes a long sip from her cup.

"So Lyney," Paimon says to the magician, who's mumbling to himself as they help themselves.

"Hm? What's up?" Lyney asks curiously.

"The children here said that this story was called, 'The Thief's Hope' but, they also said that it has a sad ending," Paimon comments, "is that true?"

"Ah, you want to hear that story," Lyney says, there's an unreadable expression on his face, "well I wouldn't say it's that sad, uh, it's just not your typical fairytale."

"Yet the kids still love this story," Aether says, watching as Lyney puffs out his cheeks in slight disagreement.

"Yeah I don't really know why," Lyney laughs, slumping onto a nearby couch with a poof!

"Hey, at least that means you're a good story teller!" Paimon says comfortingly, nibbling on a cupcake as she talks.

"Perhaps," Lyney looks at Aether, then at Lynette. His eyes are wistful as he gazes at his hands silently. Outside, the rain was pouring ceaselessly. A cold wind brushed by and the water rapped on the windows. Lyney thought for a long time, then he just sighed fondly, fingers tracing a seam on his shorts before smiling brightly at Aether and Paimon. 

“Alright! Let me tell you the story!” He jumps up from the chair and bows deeply, “Lynette, if you would please,” he bows towards his sister who sighs, “fine," she says.

Lynette snaps her fingers and just like magic, a large backdrop appears behind Lyney, Paimon gasps in surprise and Aether leans forward curiously. It’s a depiction of the Fontaine streets, and the desolate piece of artwork is crafted with life-like accuracy. 

“Allow me to take you back in time,” Lyney steps forth, a hand tucked behind his back as he twirls his hat on his fingers. 

“There once lived a young boy, he was very poor and often worried about when his next meal would come by,” Lyney snapped his fingers and a little doll fell down from somewhere above his head, it was neatly stitched together, yet dirty and battered as though it had been abused and never loved. 

Lyney smiled and nodded at Lynette who waved her hand. A spotlight shone onto the makeshift “stage” focusing on the tiny doll who picked himself up and began to walk around. 

“He was often bullied, looked down upon and slowly, he found himself pushed to the darkest streets, where the light did not fall,” as he spoke, Lyney flicked his fingers, they appeared as dark, long shadows on the harsh light of the backdrop and the doll was flung away.

“But he never forgot what being in the light felt like,” Lyney’s voice echoed from somewhere, like a omnipresent narrator. As he spoke, the little doll picked itself up and began to stumble slowly towards the audience, “he longed to go back, there was a hole in his heart that he wanted to fill. A void that was as dark as the night sky.”

The inky blackness that suddenly filled the stage was so desperate and suffocating that Paimon audibly gasped. No light shone, indeed, it seemed as though even the oxygen was being removed from their lungs. Aether wondered if this too, was a part of the magic.

"He tried to fill his heart with the scraps that littered the streets," Lyney's voice began to speak again, "he hoarded those little things zealously, even they had no love for him and he had no love for them."

A small pinprick of light appeared on the stage and focused on Lyney's figure, he stood in the centre, with a grave expression on his face.

"His fingers were nimble and his feet too, were agile," Lyney smiled, a small doll appearing on his hand.

"He took the memories and love of others, he tried to light up the darkness in his heart with the light and warmth of others." Lyney procured a candle, "but he could not chase away the cold in his heart, nor could he brighten any corner of that room, for it was locked!"

Lynette grimanced into her cup, but begrudgingly waved her hand. The flame of the candle died out as she waved her hand and Lyney smiled widely.

"How should I light up this dark heart?" Lyney walked across the stage, making a thoughtful expression, "Ah! The boy realised something, when he was wandering the streets one day!"

Lyney smiles, carefully placing the doll down, "people crave the unknown, they are fascinated by fantasy…and what better way to achieve that than–” a sudden burst of streamers erupted from behind his back, “magic?”

The backdrop changed, it was a light and happy scene, where the doll reappeared, looking much cleaner and put together, the doll was surrounded by other dolls, they were smiling at him. 

 "If I can't love myself...and I can't take it from others, what if I made them give it to me? That was what the thief thought," Lyney grinned, blowing a shower of confetti hearts at his audience.

Aether smiled slightly when some of the paper brushed his cheek.

"So he began to try and perform, with the few skills he had learned from stealing. No matter how he tried to mask his true self, this boy was a thief," Lyney pointed at the heinous doll with an accusatory finger.

"The truth was that he was a thief, and that all his story-truths were lies." Lyney declared.

Aether and Paimon smiled knowingly, Lynette helped herself to a muffin. She was enjoying the chance to enjoy as many treats as she could.  

“So the thief had finally found something that could fill up his empty heart," Lyney kept talking, "but still, the feeling of emptiness persisted. So he kept performing, kept going, just to chase that feeing," butterflies flew out from Lyney's finger tips as he spoke.

“The treacherous thief lied his way to the top. He tricked people ceaselessly, putting on a show that the masses would love. Lies were piled up on falsehoods. The thief could no longer return to the shadows of his past."

Lyney made a shape with him fingers where the light reflected it's shadow onto the backdrop, "The Thief looked down at the world from on top of the tower he’d built. It was exquisitely crafted, held together by fabricated illusions. He was a sinner, a devil who’d escaped from hell who was undeserving of the light he had gained."

Aether's eyes narrowed slightly, he sipped some tea but listened attentively, Lyney noticed this change, smiling to himself he thought, 'ah he gets it.'

Lyney kept talking, "Like a famous actor, the parts that he had to play continued to increase. People’s lives were entrusted to his hands at night, and in the daytime, he stole people’s hearts. He had never been bested and life itself, was the stage for his craft. 

He sat under the night sky one lonely evening, gazing out into the inky darkness. The thief looked at the stars, they had always sparkled so beautifully, untouched by pain or sorrow. He wanted that light, even though he knew he could never emulate that gentle radiance. 

That was when he met her,” Lyney’s voice took on a reminiscing tone and suddenly Aether was seized by a strange thought, was this just a mere story? He had no time to ponder this question, because Lyney was moving onto the next part of the story.

”Who was she?" Lyney wondered aloud, "well, perhaps she could be described like a burst of sunlight in a cold, frosty winter, or a wonderful flower blossoming in a wasteland...but no," he paused, "she was more than just those."

"She was the steady roll of waves on the ocean, she was the star that never left the night sky," it seemed like Lyney had forgotten his magic in that moment. He stood before them, as a performer still, but Aether realised that this was not only a story, but a reflection of Lyney himself.

"She was not words, she was a feeling," Lyney almost whispered to himself. Yet in the breathless silence that beheld the room, he may as well have shouted those words. Upon beholding this vulnerable side of Lyney, Aether couldn't help but smile sadly.

"The Thief was a certain kind of summertime sadness, one that spring couldn't cure," Lyney said slowly, withered petals falling with every step he took backward, away from the audience.

"He had no words that could describe her, for all the stories The Thief had spun, all the lies he'd said, there was no word he knew that could speak about the truth in her. But The Thief liked to call her mon armour," Lyney smiled bitterly, there was a hatred in the way he uttered those words.

Aether was taken back, but he didn't know why Lyney seemed to dislike those last few words so much.

"Her presence was gentle, yet searing. To The Thief who couldn't remember hugs or caresses, her touches was an uncomfortable, addicting burn."

Sitting in the audience, Lynette looked at her reflection in her cup sadly. This, was his way of atoning for lies, by weaving truths into his stories so that he might not spin falsehoods. She knew Lyney better than anyone else, to most this was obvious, but they didn't know about the hopes of her older brother. Past his light, and his shadow, was a young boy who loved to love and be loved.

That, was also a kind of truth.

"This Thief," Lyney murmured, "he was a haunted house, hollow from inside to out, plagued by a restless soul that was more focused on destroying the construct that kept it existing than anything else. Every now and then, a wind would rush through and open half-closed, weeping wounds.

The people who sojourned in this house did not help the soul, they loved only the mystery, the romance, the unattainable nature of his performance. And often left the house shabbier than when they first entered.

But not mon armour, she came in, like a little ghost. Planting purple wisteria in his mind, with wonderful trees that entwined their roots around the house and bound him to the earth. Camomile grew from his scars, moss and dewdrops patched his wounds.

She planted gardens of lavender in his mind, so that his anxiety might be soothed.

If there was anyone that might make him feel like life was worth living on, it would be her. A gentle love, that didn't demand. How funny, The Thief had never once known how to care, he did not think about the emotion itself. Never committed." Lyney nodded, though Aether didn't know if he was talking to himself or his audience.

"Yet he tried, loving was clumsy. He couldn't make sense of the lines he was meant to colour inside and often scribbled outside of those boundaries. But at least, he was less transient, and more of a home now." Lyney drifted off into his own thoughts, "my love, what a wonderful name, if only..."

Aether lets him mumble to himself, Paimon also floats over to him with a soft, melancholic smile. "Poor Lyney..." she says quietly, "the story must mean a lot to him."

"I think there was a bit more than just that," Aether comments, but refrains from saying some of his other thoughts, knowing Paimon would just freak out.

"My brother finds it hard to express himself," Lynette chips in, "thank you for listening to him," she bows her head.

"It's okay, please tell him that we'd listen to him anytime!" Paimon exclaims waving her hands.

"Thank you, I will."

"I know you're not much of a talker, but we'll also listen to you, if you need it," Aether says, smiling brightly at Lynette, who gives him a little smile in response.

"I will cherish that offer." She says, "honestly," she adds, looking at Lyney with a half-endearing, half-fond and equal parts exasperated expression, "for someone who insists he's unlovable, loving sure comes easily to him."

"He has a lot to give," Aether says kindly, Lyney is quiet, a broken piece of cermanic-ware, so fractured yet so well patched up he looks new. Aether is glad he has something to hope for.

"Lyney loves like he breathes but treats it like it's cancer," Lynette replies, "when he first realised he was infatuated he said he got a heart stroke. Yet if loving really was a disease, he'd hope he'd never recover from his illness" Lynette takes a sip of tea and rolls her eyes gracefully. "In that sense, he's utterly hopeless,"

[loopdile]

loopdile so real. i have a Vision of both siffrin and loop being Deeply Deeply Closeted Repressed Transfem and having gender envy over odile and i feel like that'd do Something to the Dynamic. Something......... Something........................... well i'm not successfully envisioning it but maybe YOU are?

i am positively plagued by loopdile gender visions!!! maybe not the exact same as you're thinking but i think you will enjoy them. walk with me, anon, through the garden of my loop gender headcanons. it's kind of a big garden but we'll get to the odile part eventually i promise.

Before they were Siffrin, Siffrin had their gender on lock: something transfem, but also tied to unique cultural elements in some way, either the specific identity or the way of thinking about it or just the particular set of presentation options. Perhaps they even started fantasy HRT! But then they forget everything, obviously, including their identity and transition plans. They decide pretty quickly that they're not a man, but none of the alternatives feel exactly correct either; if their previous identity was presented as an option, maybe it would click and they'd settle into it pretty fast, but unfortunately that is literally impossible.

So, no clear goals in mind. And because of his forgotten past, continued memory problems, and constant traveling, Siffrin starts to really value the few things he can count on to stay consistent. He'd rather wear his comfortable hat and cloak than leave them behind in favor of anything more gendered. He'd rather stick with his familiar body than risk changing it. Still, maybe there are some changes he'd be happier in the long run to have made... but the process would be stressful, and he's got enough stressful things to worry about already!

But then we get to Loop. Who has already been changed, suddenly and irrevocably and so very, very accidentally. They are not Siffrin anymore, they do not have the hat and cloak, they aren't even human. They don't even really remember who they were pre-loops. There is no familiarity for them to cling to; instead, they're desperate to find things they can control, things they can change, proof that the world moves forward and they're in charge of their place in it. The motivation that Siffrin lacked, Loop now has in spades!

However, their negative feelings are more intense as well. They struggle to face real stakes, to put effort into anything too complicated, to try anything that might disappoint them. They take risks, yes, but not about things they care about; they take risks because they don't care. And they have a lot of other things going on, too, both practically and psychologically, so gender isn't their immediate priority. "Who and what am I?" is a very difficult question for them right now on multiple levels, a difficult question with only difficult answers.

But, starting with the practical: wearing clothes is an easy way to look and feel a little bit more normal, right? So they experiment, and they decide that dresses are just similar enough to the cloak to be comfortable, but distinct enough to not be as emotionally fraught. And they like them in a frivolous way that Siffrin was never willing to lean all the way into. Siffrin didn't put much thought or energy into his appearance, but Loop's inhuman form is a constant issue, so they might as well dress it in a way they like! Something good to balance out the bad, since they can't be neutral any longer.

And of course they think about body craft, though in a different context from most people. Even the nearly-human parts of their body are lacking detail, without all the right functions behind the form, and then other parts aren't human at all. Their body feels wrong, distracting, constricting. They don't understand how it works, and it draws attention they don't want, and it's not them. And yet, isn't it? Even if they'd been put back into a Siffrin body again, they aren't Siffrin anymore, either. Loop is what the loops made them. They want to change their body, to make it something they can be comfortable in, but they can't. Because body craft is a method of changing flesh and blood and bone, and Loop is not made of such human stuff anymore.

So we've got Loop. Trying to find themself, and maybe succeeding in some ways, but stymied or uncertain in others. Desperate to change, but scared to hope. To make a long story short, they join back up with the party, which brings its own set of problems, and yet... it's also a step towards fixing some of their problems, too. Most relevant to our post, here: Odile is a craft expert with a unique set of experiences. She's got a wide foundation of knowledge, since she's familiar with all three main craft types. She used to be part of Ka Bue's underground body-crafting scene, where she not only crafted her own body but also helped and taught other people; and unlike in Vaugarde, where Houses provide resources and education, Odile and her peers had to do their own research and experiments, develop their own techniques. She even has some knowledge of wish craft from Siffrin, and the way she stopped Siffrin from looping proves that she's unusually good at analyzing and adapting to new forms of craft.

So once Loop's dissatisfaction with and ignorance regarding their own physical form comes to Odile's attention, of course she offers to help. To see if she can figure out what their body is made of, and how it works, and hopefully, in what ways it can be changed.

And this dynamic with her... it's totally different from her relationship with Siffrin, both pre-loops and post. And Loop has always admired her, and here she is, talking about the confidence and determination with which she changed her own body, not without fear or frustration but not letting herself be slowed down by them, either. Taking her fate into her own hands and refusing to be anyone other than herself. And Loop used to feel that Odile understood them best, and losing that connection felt like the end of the world, but here she is, still! Observant and caring as ever. Dedicated to figuring them out again. Unflinching as she sees them for the strange thing they currently are, but equally unshakable in her insistence that they do not have to stay exactly as they are.

So Odile helps them figure out their body. Helps them with the craft itself, too, but even more than that — through both encouragement and example, she helps them be brave enough to genuinely try. To ask themself what they really want. To strike a balance between Siffrin's complacent hesitation and Loop's miserable desperation. To experiment, and face both the chance of failure and the chance of success with head held high. To hope.

Odile is not one for platitudes and empty positivity, after all. If she says something's possible, then it is, or she will make it so, one way or another, despite any setback. Isn't she proof? She remade herself, and she can remake Loop, too. Changing them, slowly and carefully and so very, very deliberately. Loop will never be human again, but they can decide who they are and become themself.

[stinkysam]

Monkey D. Luffy - Fish.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "oop siren!male reader who was saved by the crew from a bar that was gonna kill him to make food? all the fluffy stuff, i think reader would sing to the crew but very specific love songs to luffy, and i feel he would be running away from sanji and avoid the kitchen 😭" - @vainillacookie

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : I pictured the reader like shyarly, so he doesn't have any legs, though his tail can be imagined differently

You knew you shouldn't have ventured alone out of the Grand Line but you wanted to see all the seas.

But here you were in the east blue, about to be eaten by some humans.

"Let go of me !" You yelled, slapping your tail against their faces. You struggled as best as you could, clawing and biting anything you could, yelling and screaming in hope to draw more attention to the kitchen.

"Shut up !" One of them yelled your way but you continued screaming. You'd explode their eardrums if necessary. Your voice is ringing in their ears, making some of them bleed.

You figured it worked as some waiters entered back in the kitchen, asking for the noise to stop as some customers began to be curious.

"Help ! Help me ! They're going to eat me !" You yelled and they cringed, hoping no one heard that.

They all tried to restrain you and silence you until the doors were kicked open, a small human making his entrance. He didn't look like a waiter or a cook and you hoped it was a customer here to help you.

"Mh ?" The man stared at you as everyone froze, his hand on his hat. "What's going on ?"

"They're trying to eat me ! Help !" You quickly yelled his way, still struggling, trying to get away from them.

"But you're a… a fish ?!"

"I'm not a fish !" You yelled back, angry. Did you look like a fucking fish ? "I'm a siren, you idiot ! Help me !"

The man stared at you and tilted his head. True. You didn't really look like a fish. His bad. He seemed to finally notice the people holding you down and frowned.

"Let go of him. He's not a fish." He said sternly.

"Or what." They stared at him, slowly moving away from you to grab their kitchen's ustensiles, clearly wanting to use them as weapons.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He said, smiling. Stretching his right arms as it cracked a bit. "Nami. Zoro. Sanji. Usopp" He called out and four more people entered the kitchen. "Me and my crew will defeat you."

The three men looked serious as well, ready to either open the door or to attack them. One had a slingshot, ready to shoot, one had green hair and a sword ready to cut while the third man, blonde hair, was just standing there looking menacing ?

"I don't think you want your customers to know you're cooking people." The woman, Nami added, threatening to open the door for everyone to see inside. "Plus, I've seen a few reporters in the room. They'd get the word around quickly."

"We… we don't have to go that far, ahah…" One of the men holding you said, letting go of you as the others did the same, slowly.

You pushed yourself away from them, struggling to go toward your saviors. Nami went to you with someone else, holding you by the arm.

"Are you okay ? Do you need help walking ?"

"Yes please." You said, throwing a glare to those that had tried to cook you. Nami and her friend helped you get away, accompanying you outside on their ship and soon the others followed.

They walked you to their kitchen, unaware you were anxious at the idea of getting inside another one. Looking for all the exits

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy." The man said, the one that had entered first, mistaking you for a fish. "And I'm gonna be king of the pirates !" He announced confidently, putting his right foot on the chair.

"Zoro." The green haired man said as he sat down.

"And I'm the great captain Usopp. But you can call me Usopp." The one with the slingshot said, looking as confident as Luffy.

"I'm Nami. Nice to meet you." The woman said, sitting down next to you.

"And I'm Sanji. Don't worry we're not going to cook you." The blonde haired man said as he looked through the drawers for… knives ? Was he going to try to cook you too ?

You looked at him with big eyes as all your cells screamed at you to get away. Frozen in place.

"Oh no, no, no. This isn't for you." Sanji said, looking at the knife. "You see, we didn't get to finish our lunch, so we're going to finish it here."

You continued to stare at him, afraid of what was coming next. But he simply opened the fridge and took something out before beginning to cut and cook it. You relaxed slightly, still keeping an eye on him while Luffy smiled, clearly amused.

"So ? What's your name ?" Nami asked, putting her face in front of you to get your attention.

"Huh… [Name]." You simply said, still unsure of what to think of them, looking at her with wide eyes.

"What's a siren doing here in east blue ? I read you exclusively lived in the Grand Line in Fish-man Island ?" She continued and Luffy perked up at the mention of Grand Line.

"I huh… wanted to see all the seas…"

"Wait, Fish-man island ? So does this mean mermaids exist ? I've seen fishmen but-" Sanji turned, suddenly growing interested.

"Of course ! Why wouldn't they ?" You frowned at his question but he looked surprised and simply smiled, looking pleased by your answer. "Say, you really aren't going to eat me ?" You asked quietly, looking at all of them, still suspicious.

"Of course not. You aren't a fish, [Name]." Luffy said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

-

It's been a few days and you got to know them more even though you avoided staying in the kitchen with Sanji for too long. He seemed nice, but you feared to see their fridge empty with only you to feed them.

But you didn't mind spending time with Luffy. He had easily made himself a cozy place in your heart with his smile and laugh and carefree personality.

They found out you had a pretty singing voice when you sang for Luffy, helping him fall asleep at night, and helping the rest of the crew on the same occasion.

They didn't mind that you sang only for him because you had a strong voice that the wind transported, accompanying them for the day.

Luffy would grin each time you sang to him, not noticing you wouldn't sing to the others. Loving your voice and the rhythm you sang to.

He'd sing with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and clapping his hands together. He sings a little out of tune at times but it always comes from the heart.

He'd often ask you to join his crew. After all, there's always a musician in a pirate crew, ready to sing their adventures and exploits.

[90shetfield]

Hairstylist - James Hetfield x F!Y/N

 Y/N a well known hair stylist in the San Francisco area has a busy day ahead of her when James Hetfield walks into her salon unannounced wanting all of his hair chopped off.

Sorry this is a little bit rushed (My fault) I hope you enjoy!! :DD

1996

My usual client holds her head back into the bowl for me to wash it. She comes in regularly and we usually have deep intellectual conversations with each other. A sweet middle aged woman, shell always bring polaroids of her kids to show me. Iscrub shampoo in her hair gently watching for any discomfort or irritation. You would be surprised at how many times I would be soft and precise yet people still complain.

“My daughter, Emily, recently went to a Metallica concert with her friends. She said it was the best night of her life, do you listen to them?” She asked me with a gigantic smile on her face about her daughter attending her first concert.

“Oh Metallica? Yeah i love their music, i'm not a super fan though. They are one of my favorite artists though, something about his voice draws me in” I tell her honestly, washing the bubbly shampoo out of the short ginger bob. I tap her head signaling for her to raise it out of the bowl so I could wrap a towel around.

“It sounds like you have a little crush there missy” She teases me.

“It is not a crush! I just like the way he does things. His voice is included in that, plus it's not like he would even know who i am” I sigh wishing it was true, maybe i might know thee james hetfield later in life but right now i'm single and lonely only being recognized for doing some celebrities hair.

“C’mon don't say that dear, You’ve done big names hair like Nikki Sixx! I wouldn't be surprised if The singer walks into that door one day!” She gets up out of the seat ruffling her hair and declining the towel. “I’ll let it air dry for today, how much do I owe you?” she rummages around in her purse.

“Nah don't worry about it, I'm feeling generous today” She pouts while still handing me a roll of bills. I hand them back to her really not wanting any pay for the service. 

“Stop it right now! I'm not taking that money!” I giggle, shoving it back in her purse.

“But you deserve it hon! The le-”

“Just go before I kick you out!” I joke pushing her to the door. The sounds of our chuckles filled the room. All of the haircare products on a shelf by the desk, across from that are the seating arrangements for customers. To the left of that is the actual stations that me and my assistants use. Today it's just me. It was unusually dry this morning. I get packed to the brim with customers, this day is different though. I'm not complaining, dealing with rude people is something I do every waking moment. It never gets better.

“Alright alright im leaving! Have a good one Y/N!” I respond with a wave cleaning up the hair on the floor.

“Oh sorry sir, I didn't see you there!” her voice fades as I try to focus on the task, making it as neat as possible for the next customer that just arrived. I heard the clacking of what seemed like cowboy boots before stopping bumping into the lady. The doorbell rings telling me that she left and the new customer walked in.

“Hello, welcome to the salon. What can I do for you?” I look up, my eyes widened with shock dropping the broom making a loud boom on the hardwood. My mouth agape looking at the figure in front of me.

“How are you doing today mam? I need a tiny trim” He tilts his cowboy hat revealing the mysterious blue eyes showing off his teeth with a playful grin. The long dirty blonde hair reaching his shoulders in messy wavy curls. The black leather jacket covering his motorhead shirt and his dark washed jeans with black leather belt followed by his signature cowboy boots. I slowly reach down grabbing the broom standing it back up in its position leaned up against the wall. Trying my best to act calm and reserved, I walk up to him giving him a warm and welcome handshake.

“Hello James, it's nice to meet you! Im Y/N the owner” He flashes me another smile taking off his jacket throwing it on one of the chairs in the sitting area

“If I didn't know who you were I wouldn't have come here sweetheart, You're known amongst the music community ill tell ya that” His reserved attitude sparks up. My cheeks flush red at his wavering tone. James Hefield is in my salon right now! I could jump for joy but uh- that would be very embarrassing.

“I'm sorry mr know it all, i guess i'm just going to expect you without an appointment huh? Two can play THAT game  buddy. I'm not going down that easily especially at how stuck up and stubborn he acts. Even after him acting like this my little crush on him is exploding in my heart. I twist a strand of hair around my pointer finger now being the one adoring the playful smirk

“I need an appointment?” He raises his eyebrow not realizing he could just waltz in and get his hair done.

“You said it yourself, i'm a know stylist so my schedule is kind of packed right now”

“But no ones here?” He looks around in confusion wondering why I won't just take him already.

“That's not my problem, you're the one with no appointment!”I cheer sitting on top of my front desk crossing my legs

“I'm sorry i didn't think i would need one”

“Whatever, just sit down in one of the seats. I'll be there in a second” I walk into the backroom “and make sure you have an appointment next time! I'm not taking you on a free whim just cause you're a rockstar!” I yell from the backroom, taking the supplies i need for his hair type.

I walk back into the room, he leans his feet on the counter, the cowboy hat is now where his jacket is on the chair. I see his odd mullet. On anybody else that would look terrifyingly horrible but on James it kind of works? It's not as handsome as him with long hair  back in the 80s but it's pretty.

“So how much do you want trimmed?”I picked up the clippers fully expecting just an inch or two.

“Almost all of it, i want the shortcut in that photo right there” He points to the collage of photos on my wall, showing me the haircut he wants.

“Holy shit, you want all of your hair cut off!?” I stop myself, did I just hear him correctly? He wants all of his long precious hair cut off?

“Yeah, we're going in a different direction with the music, Jason and kirk already chopped it off. I wanted to go to you cause you have really good reviews. I trust you with my hair” He says honestly, giving me a look of sincerity.

“A-are you sure?” I stutter “You really won't ever be able to go back” I lift his hair down a tiny bit, adjusting it for me to really cut off all of his shiny golden locks. I take a piece of his hair in my hand, admiring its beauty. He notices grabbing my hand and pulling me closer to him. We meet eye to eye.

“Your eyes are really unique” He boops my nose and I swat him away.

“Would you make this at least a little enjoyable for me? And don't just grab my hand like that man. I could smell the pancakes you had for breakfast” I mist his hair getting it wet. I grab a brush from the counter, brushing his hair releasing a sigh from him easing into the chair.

“I wasn't lying about your eyes y’know” Hehums the words out

“Huh?” i say not hearing him correctly

“Y/N your eyes are captivating, like i want to stare into them for hours at a time. The color of them draws me in. Their pretty” He looks at me from the mirror.I look up seeing the way he's looking at me. 

“I could say the same about yours but thank you Mr.Hetfield” I take the scissors in my hand approaching them close to his scalp cutting off the long layers that he had grown throughout the years. I focused on the hair but I could still feel his piercing gaze on me not wanting to look away.

“There's no going back now” I say, taking a razor and turning it on, finishing his hair off. I dust the excess off him before taking the cape off he put on himself. I spin him around, he sits in front of me, legs open.

He looks stunning with the short hair.I honestly can't tell if i like his longer hair or him right now better. My crush on him only grows as we eventually reach the end of the appointment

I gave him the mirror so he could see. He runs a hand through his hair, a gigantic grin appears on his face being really happy at the job I did.

“You did amazing Y/N shit!” He pulls me into his lap knowing exactly what he's doing. An arm slithers around my backside holding me against his chest. His hot breath tingled on the nape of my neck.I bit my lip not wanting to get off.

“I'm not the only one to give credit too. The client is just hot in anything you put him in” I tease him grabbing his hair in my fists watching him wince with enjoyment. He kisses the side of my jaw, leaving little ones afterwards. 

I got up off of him despite his protests. I walk behind my desk sitting down on the chair, eyeing him up and down, liking what I'm seeing.

“So sweetheart, how much do I owe you?”

“A phone number that's it” He gives a small chuckle before taking a pad  of paper on my desk and writing his number on it down for me. He takes his cowboy hat and jacket ready to leave, stopping at the door.

“Here you go princess, don't lose it now, I wanna see you with it on the next time we meet” He gives me his cowboy hat, putting it on top of my head for me. He gives me a small peck before walking out of my store with that same expression he did walking in. Only now both of us wear it proudly.

I stare at the figure walking out already picturing when we can meet next.

[sammylbir]

Rewriting Teruteru Hanamura

Hey guys, today it's time for another rewrite post. That being about a certain chef.

That being Teruteru:

Teruteru Hanamura is probably one of the most disliked Danganronpa characters. I personally do like him as a character and want to improve him, so this post is for that. Keep in mind that those are just my ideas, so you don't have to agree with me. Okay? Let's do this.

Personality:

I'll tone his perverted behavior heavily down. Unlike in canon, this guy is a true gentleman and while he is very perverted still, he only keeps it for fun flirting and teasing. He is in general very friendly and approachable and also has a caring side, towards those he likes.

He is open about his interests in kinks, but he doesn't talk about that, during eating and when he is in the kitchen. Because in his mind, eating is supposed to be enjoyable and fun, with dirty jokes "not fitting to the menu".

His accent change, when he gets mad, remains too.

Appearance:

Okay, here I won't change too much. I'll adjust his height a bit and make him a bit taller and more plumb. Another thing I wanna add is that his belt is full of cooking supplies, like spatulas and whatnot and his hat is a bit bigger, which also stores some cooked meals.

How do they all fit into his hat? No clue. I am legally obligated, to not say anything about it/j

Past:

Teruteru had a diner with his mom and came from a poor background. The diner itself struggled at times, because of its remote location and the fact that the meals themselves aren't as "Flashy", as the ones in the big restaurants. Due to this, most critics who visit the place bash it and leave negative reviews.

Teruteru helped out in the diner as a kid, either to clean or to serve food himself. But his home life wasn't that happy either, because his father left the family, after Teruteru witnessed him in his bedroom cheating on his mom with another woman. He was 13 at the time and this even taught him, to treat women the right way. Adding to the fact that his dad was kind of a dick to his mom, he tried to become a gentleman of sorts, to not become like his dad. Like in canon, he has a few brothers, but those left with his dad, because he married a rich old woman for money. Something Teruteru can't forgive them for.

His perverted behavior and consumption of pornographic content, was due to him trying to cope with the divorce, because he did love his dad deep down and hated how mom had to do more work, because he wasn't there. Thanks to that, he also began to realise that he is attracted to men and women, a fact that bothered him for a long time. Until his mom found out and taught him that he didn't need to feel ashamed of how he felt.

Because he helped a lot in his mom's diner, so they can stay afloat, he did miss out on school mostly and his grades ranged from mediocre to atrocious, because he was busy with said work. Making his mom more worried about the future. Which is why Teruteru began to practice cooking more, to make sure that the diner can stay afloat and to possibly get more customers.

Koichi Kizakura, the scout at the time, discovered Teruteru when he went to dine there, after a long hard day of work. He then offered him that if he were to join HPA, then they'd finance his mom's diner. Of course, Teruteru accepted and willingly joined them, to make sure to become a better cook and so mom doesn't have to worry about his future.

Other Facts:

-Teruteru can cook most meals really well, except for omelette. For some reason, he seems to be struggling with making those and he tries to avoid making them, whenever he can.

-While he is open for most kinks, he draws the line with non-consensual stuff.

-Apart from cooking, he does like fashion trends and keeps up with them at all times.

-He sometimes tries to slip from gym class and math class, so he can work on his cooking skills. Keyword being: "Tries".

-He can speak a bit of italian and french, which he picked up from some of the customers.

And that's it. I hope ya liked this post and please like and reblog, if you appreciated my ideas for our dear chef. Till next time!