#Breakfast Team

[bouncingkadachi]

More Breakfast Team headcanons

Been thinking about them again so here’s some more monstie headcanons. Mostly some fighting styles and how they’re doing post Rite of Channeling.

Partially sponsored by Flaming Espinas and whatever genius designed his big explosion. I love it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Ratha

Has retained some of his Razewing and corrupted characteristics. His scales are permanently stained a dark maroon, while those that pattern his face and go down his back are black.

The last vestiges of when he was flightless can be seen in the scales along the arms of his wings. While they are predominantly dark in color, the scales clustered around his spurs seem to be iridescent. 

His coloration and the way he’s been trained to wield fire can result in him being misidentified as a Dreadking by Hunters at first glance. However, even fully grown he is average size for a Rathalos.

Tail was made for SMACKING—tends to swing it wide in a circle to stun and then immediately follow with a second spinning blast of flame.

Trained for higher firepower which has resulted the scales along his neck and his chest glowing when he’s ready to fire. Usually only seen when he’s charging a big attack, but he’s also learned to use it as a threat of impending explosion.

However! He also uses this gimmick occasionally as a sudden flare of warmth for cold days. Great to cuddle up against!

Can and will use his head as a battering ram.

Jam

Enjoys a good chin scritch.

Purrs and purrs loudly. Bites and bites hard.

Wildly flexible as only a cat can be.

For being a creature of shadows, loves a good nap in the sun.

Always smells a little sweet, but don’t be fooled. That’s the poison. It’s concentrated in his claws.

Like all Nargacuga, he is very adept at smacking things with his tail. Unlike most Nargacuga, that tail sometimes catches on fire. The flame flares out from his tail spikes and licks along the length of the tail.

Has sometimes been seen to wave the burning tail around like a torch.

Omelette

Since he’s undergone the Rite of Channeling and has been given ice genes, he’s always a bit cool to the touch. Great for a hot summer day.

He’s the only one on the team of a good size that can be hitched up to a cart, so he’s been trained as a cart-beast. He seems to enjoy the work, and is quite fast trotting up and down the roads.

The cart harness was specially designed for quick release, so that Astrea can release him to attack in the case that they run into trouble.

If they’re doing short stopovers at Rider-friendly villages, sometimes Astrea won’t bother stabling Omelette. Instead, you can find Omelette sitting on the ground in front of the cart, waiting patiently (usually with a snack).

The feathers on his arms and down his back can suddenly become stiff and hard as steel. He’s a chicken who takes “death by a thousand papercuts” rather seriously.

Fish

Mostly likely to let the village kids climb all over him, although such an event rarely happens.

Can sometimes be found flopped on the edge of the pier, watching the fish swimming by the beams. Seems to be fond of pancaking himself flat against the boards for that.

Puffs up like an angry cat when startled. This is kind of annoying when riding him because then you suddenly get a face full of staticky fur.

Seems to compete with Jam in scratching his claws on the same exact tree. Thankfully, it hasn’t resulted in anything more serious than sibling tussles.

Juice

Since he’s usually allowed to roam the seas around the village freely, he’s very rarely harnessed. Instead, he has clan symbols painted along the scales of his neck to denote ownership. The symbols also separate him from other aquatic Monsties that nearby Hakolo Island villages also let use the sea.

Likes to sun himself in warm shallow water.

Occasionally powers excess electricity into his mouth such that it sparks, and even ignites.

That age-old species rivalry with Rathalos still burns in him, so he’ll sometimes leap out of the water to snap at Ratha’s claws. In return, Ratha will try to bop him with a swipe of the tail. While concerning at first glance, it’s less of a serious fight and more of a strange sort of ritual between the two nowadays.

It is, however, 100% serious with any wild Rath that swoops too close to him

Soup

Angry grumpy hissy man

Loves a chained bubble explosion. The stiff fur on the underside of his tail seems to be especially insulating, as he will often set off the chain himself with a heavy slam.

Despite the heavy injuries on his face, his hearing is especially acute. His remaining whiskers are also highly sensitive. In battle, his aggression and instincts keep him as a formidable attacker, and he’s particularly ruthless when guided well with another pair of eyes.

While he is the oldest of Astrea’s Monsties, he is not an exceptionally old individual for his species. The ease of his movements suggests that he’s spent much of his adult life navigating around his blindness. It has been suggested by the Scriveners that he may have been injured in one of his first serious contests for establishing mating rights in his territory, but it’s all just hypothesis.

In daily life, when he’s just minding his own business, he’s more likely to bump into things. Makes grumpy old man noises every time he accidentally headbutts into an obstacle. He’s also not too proud that he won’t play the pitiful old man trick and come whining to Astrea for a scratch and a treat every once in a while following a little bump in the night. Astrea doesn’t know how they got to this point, either.

Doesn’t often go traveling with Astrea individually, on account of his heightened aggression and surly personality. When he does get to go though, he enjoys spending nights at camp curled up around Astrea. All you need is a thin blanket to soften the rough hairs of his tail, otherwise he’s all the warm cover you need. 

Favorite enrichment activity is thoroughly destroying a Bumplepumpkin.

[toanw]

@aceaeite bullied me (politely) for months into designing these after the concept showed up on a very old backlog lmfao Sushi Ninja Cures Real

[spiritoast]

wanted to play with layer effects in medibang, and i've been on a massive beastieball kick lately, so i doodled one of my team members to play around with halftones and blending layers.

say hi to bingle. she is lonely despite having more bestie links than anyone else she is incredibly small AND she eats heavy hits for breakfast

[clipglitch]

Character sheet for my OC Sunny! She's ready for artfight!

[crystallinegazer]

you guys would not believe me if i told you the context of this

[today-in-the-bunker]

Today, Jack watches The Breakfast Club and immediately assumes that Dean and Sam must have each fit into some John Hughes archetype in their childhoods. They think that Sam must have been The Brain and Dean was The Criminal. They bring this up to Sam, who tells Jack that Dean was more a mix between both John and Andrew.

[bloodfreak-boyking]

one of my absolute favorite wincest fic dynamics is when sam has been thinking about doing the nastiest, most wretched things to dean since like forever and has desired him carnally since he knew what that meant, and dean is just like "wow, never noticed how hot my brother is. shame i can't do anything about it bc we're brothers." meanwhile Sam is like locked in the bathroom licking the floor of the shower bc dean just got out. love it when sam is a freak ab his brother in a way that fucking blindsides dean <333

[mo-ok]

✈️🌊🐬 blue 🐬🌊✈️

🌠

[ivyflowers13]

Breakfast in bed

[leosgreyfringe]

I’m literally so in awe of big gabi…the way strikers think they’re going to have an easier time with him over saliba just because he’s not the “““star””” and so they target their runs toward him instead, and he just deals with it. puts them right in his pocket like it’s NOTHING. then goes and scores a goal for us just for fun. does it all for the badge….we’re so fucking lucky he’s one of ours ♥️

[bloodsoaked-rainbows]

After Taliesin mentioned it, I just had to make it

[bouncingkadachi]

Breakfast Team Grooming rituals

An assortment of headcanons on the grooming and upkeep of Astrea's team.

Ratha: he gets a sponge bath. The spikes along his spurs have to be filed down routinely lest they get too unwieldy. He'll also occasionally have normal scales overgrow or get roughed up through fights, so they get trimmed and polished as well. Each wing also gets a thorough once-over.

Omelette: also gets a sponge bath, but the fellow generally keeps himself neat and tidy so his additional upkeep is minimal. If his beak is looking a little worse for wear it'll get buffed up to restore the point.

Juice: About once a season he needs a pretty intensive barnacle treatment since he spends most of his time free-roaming in the sea. Astrea had to get a pair of heavy-duty shears commissioned for the job. Juice is pretty good at shocking the pests down so they don't grow too big, but they're still stuck on him, so that's why they need to be snapped off. Then he gets the rough edges filed down, a pretty rigorous scrub with a stiff brush, and his paint is reapplied.

Jam: Pretty self-sufficient in the grooming department but loves a good brush-out. Astrea's got a slicker brush and a fine-tooth comb to keep him looking sleek and glossy. Hates getting his claws trimmed though, but it's a necessary evil.

Fish: Frequently gets into nonsense like rolling around in the sand and therefore becoming absolutely filthy. Whines pathetically when the consequences of such actions means he needs to be bathed. Gets sponge bathed on the gentlest setting and has a dedicated brush for his tail. Complains the entire time but also attempts to flop his head into Astrea's lap for scritches so who knows what his angle is

Soup: Grumpy old man who demands and loves the full bells and whistles of a heavy-duty grooming session. Admittedly, he does most of the work himself, so the brush-out is mostly a bonding activity. He has an entire set of brushes dedicated just for him, because they have to stand up to the sheer amount of usage they see. Particular attention has to be paid to his old wounds such as his missing eye to make sure they're clean and no further infection tried to set in again

Bonus! Kian's wild bug bonanza (they need a team name too at some point):

Battle Bug: pretty good at grooming herself but won't say no to a sponge bath. The poison spikes on her back get trimmed on a regular basis to prevent excessive build-up. Since she's got a Rider, her camouflage hide also gets fully removed and scrubbed down as well, so she's a naked spider on bath days. But it extends the longevity of the hide so she suffers through it with dignity.

Baby Bug: She's small right now so you can dunk her in a wash basin and then brush her out until she's more cotton ball than spider. Just be mindful of how much water you splash on her face. Maintaining the shining white of her fluff is kind of a pain though.

Tiny Rail Gun: he gets dust baths, as his handle over electricity is rather weak at the moment. Unfortunately his handle over dust bathing is also rather weak so he kind of just flops about in it with much confusion. You can scrub him down with handfuls of sand and then wipe him clean with a soft washcloth. He will try to play tug-o-war.

Theo's Kinsect: wipe him down gently with a soft washcloth dipped in warm water, please and thank you.

[ultravioletlightwaves]

The fact that Pasta was involved on the game-winning goal must have made Marchy feel like the most vindicated angry captain in the league right now.

[punkpickle]

GUYS⚔️⚔️⚔️ I did this last week

If someone tells you that the perfect mug doesn’t exist, show them this!!!!!!1!1!!

[gridzdoodle]

hmm tf2 comic 7 got me feeling things here's a one shot

December 5, 1987

(2.7k wordcount also cross posted to ao3)

December 5, 1987: 5:30 am

On the dot, Spy found his body rousing to awakeness, at the same time and in the same way it had for an irrelevant number of years. He unceremoniously shoved off the thick blanket that he recalled Jeremy had bought on discount several years ago. A small lifetime ago, he might have yearned for the fine silken thing that he’d gifted his son at some point. Now, he was just warm.

There was that one constant, even as his life took him every which way. Up before the team (save for Jane, who was easy to avoid if he pleased). Up before the kids for a moment of peace (though anything was peace to him after it all). Up before Jeremy, to relieve the man (he really was on now, wasn’t he?) of some chores so he could rest just a little while longer. He really did need it nowadays, in his condition. 

Before all though, Spy would be afforded a moment to himself.

December 5, 1987: 5:52 am

Currently clocking in at four weeks of continuous residence, Spy had found himself falling into routine. The air was cold and the sky was dark and the flame that lit his cigarette was warm and he was content. The Willis family would enjoy the cozy embrace of sunlight when it came, but this moment would remain his. In this moment, there was nothing to do, and wasn’t that beautiful? He could go about slowly, methodically, knowing that everything was going to turn out just fine. 

The sky was lightening. Judging by every other morning he had spent staring at the same sky at the same time, Spy could guess that the sun would be peeking up from behind the neighboring house. As good a queue as any to duck back inside to start the day properly. 

December 5, 1987: 6:30 am

The little ones would be getting up one by one, between now and 7:30. Jeremy might get up between 7:30 and 8:00 depending on how his body would decide to treat him that day. Yesterday he seemed more active, so the earlier end of the spectrum was more likely. That gave Spy around an hour of interrupted time to take care of things before Jeremy would be insisting that he could do it himself.

He would start off with breakfast. The kids were always starved first thing in the morning, natural of growing children. Something simple, generally applicable, and all around practical. He went to the cupboard and reached for the oats. Weaning the household off whatever prize-inside cereal their father had the habit of buying was certainly a task. But four weeks of consistent no-budging breakfasts had practically solved that problem, thank god. Now it was just a matter of who took their meal what way, which wasn’t rocket science. 

By the time Spy had fetched the oats, milk, and almost brought the water to a full boil, he could hear the squeal of a little voice ricochet from the door, to the hallway, to his ears. That would be little Tammy, no doubt. He killed the heat and followed the sound.

December 5, 1987: 6:42

“Eeek!” Tammy squeaked, and Spy was only a little surprised to find her on top of the dresser thrice her height. To his left, he found the top bunk bed vacant with poor Tommy down below clenching a pillow over his ears to try and get a few more precious moments of shut-eye.

“Quel est le problème?”

A sniff, “Spider! ‘n my bed! Get it off!!” 

Well, that was two accounted for, though he didn’t trust Jeremy’s construction skills enough to leave the girl up there for a moment more. In a few strides, Spy’s foot brushed the foot of the dresser, and he extended his arms to the top. When the girl’s squirming jostled it, he opted to plant his hands on either side to stabilize it. 

“I’m afraid I will not be taking care of that until you get down from there. Please get down from there, by the way.” and he extended his arms once more. Tammy looked about anxiously, yet ultimately decided to make her way into his waiting arms. Though when Spy went to place her on the floor, he found her limbs wrapped so tightly around his torso that something in his spine might have rearranged itself. 

Spy nearly shook her down. 

“What if it’s on the floor?” she blubbered. Spy did a once-over.

“It is not.”

“Are- are you sure..?” Spy looked again.

“Oui. Very.” He crouched to the ground, giving Tammy little choice but to part with him. There was no struggle, reassurance a success. “Where did you say it was?” She made a gesture to her own bunk. It was not a very tall one, so he simply leaned over the top and found it completely vacant of creepy crawlies.

It is gone, he would have said, if he was not interrupted by the squeal of another little voice. A foot below, Tommy flailed his arm wildly, and a little something careened and collided with the bedframe. There was the offending spider, all gangly limbs and jerky movements while making a mad dash from the danger, a sight now unfamiliar to Spy. In a swift movement, he had its abdomen pinched between gloved fingers. It wriggled with all its might before he disposed of it in a tissue, and then the wastepaper basket by the door. 

“I’m making breakfast. Be ready.” which was only a formality.

December 5, 1987: 6:55

Peace on earth existed for ten minutes each morning, when Spy quietly worked on breakfast while Tanya worked on her book as she waited. Idly, Tanya’s finger toyed with the edge of To Kill a Mockingbird . Parallel to her, Spy fussed between stirring the pot and preparing the mix-ins for each bowl. 

A splash of milk in the bowl for Tommy and Tammy, plus a glass for each while he had the jug out. Tammy absolutely refused any large chunks of fruit, so he mashed the handful of blueberries with the back of a fork. For Tommy and himself, he left them whole.

A spoonful of strawberry jam would later turn Todd’s bowl of oatmeal pink, and he knew that would be enough for him. He stirred, it was cooked by now, and filled a couple glasses with water. Heat killed, Spy reached for a little ceramic dish, and then for the highest shelf in the cupboard.

Jeremy’s bowl received a small splash of milk and the faintest drizzle of honey. On the side, a glass of water and a little dish of AM pills. The heart, pain, and renal medication met the bowl with a satisfying clink.

Now that left one bowl.

“Is there anything you’d like?”

“ I’d like to see pa at the table in the morning again, maybe with a side of Tam-Tom being quiet for once?”  Spy sighed. Her frustration had only multiplied as the weeks passed, and it seemed she could only catch her father for minutes a day when he wasn’t asleep or when she wasn’t at school. “But I could settle for a nice tall glass o’ make my English teacher stop making us do so much stuff .”

Junior high and an increasingly absent father had been tough on Tanya, but Spy knew she was tougher. The least he could do was make himself an unapologetic ally, listen to her woes whenever she came to him. It had taken them this far, through years of babysitting and now indefinite residence, and he had no intention of stopping now.

“Let me see about that one. Hmm.” Spy made a show of looking through the refrigerator, then the pantry, then the cupboard. “Ahh, I’m afraid I used the last of the ‘quiet kids’ mix last night. As for the ‘lighten the workload juice’, I believe– oh, did you hear that?” Spy noted, in perfect flatness while Tanya was failing to suppress her amusement. In a couple strides, he made it to the door and opened it.

“Now let us see this,” Spy murmured, leafing through the newspaper, serious facade unwavering as he read the headlines aloud. “Unimportant, weather, unimportant again, oh, how interesting…” he peeked up from the page, pleased to see Tanya fully invested in his bit. “This news story, ‘Local English instructor, assassinated!’ No leads, no fingerprints,” he peeled his gloves off and set them down next to the paper, “all classes to be postponed indefinitely!” At this time, Tanya’s book was flat on the table as an unfettered laugh streamed from her lips. Victory. 

Spy glanced back down for a quick moment, “Ah, but breakfast is not. What would you like to have, genuine requests only please, unless you’d like to take some plain oats.” After the girl’s laughter had trailed off, she considered, and piped up: “Cinnamon! And brown sugar in it too!” Now that was doable. He was happy to add a dash of cinnamon and a conservative spoonful of sugar to her immediate chagrin. 

“What, that’s nuthin’! You could’nt’a added a little more?” She pouted. “Non, I’m not in the habit of serving sweets in the morning.” which earned him a melodramatic slump from her. He sighed. Spy was becoming weak in his old age. “And I will remain firm in my decision. Oh. What is this. It looks like the oatmeal is ready to plate. I will now turn around, and since this matter is so urgent, I will leave the spoon in the sugar.” Which wasn’t entirely a joke. 

December 5, 1987: 7:13

“Can we go watch cartoons?”

“Yes-”

“Can we go now?”

“Have you finished your breakfast?”

“No-”

“Non.”

“But you said-”

“I would have said yes, when you finish eating.”

“Why?”

“You could tip your bowl on the couch, and I won’t clean it up.”

Todd conceded, and switched tactics to shoveling as many oats as he could eat at once. On the other side of the table, Tommy was falling asleep into his bowl while Tammy went on about nothing entirely discernible. Tanya, thank god, was taking care of the cleanup. Spy had already cleared his ingredients, so there were only the dishes to attend to. First the cooking pot, followed in quick succession by the first two bowls. She had to scrape bits of residual mush from Tommy’s bowl, but Todd and Tammy had practically cleaned theirs for her.

And then. 

“Pa’s stuff’s gonna be cold…” Tanya muttered, looking at the last dish. Spy cautioned a glance behind him, the kid in a clear struggle of indecision. He came to meet her, true to her words his fingers met a bowl barely above body temperature. Hmm. “I guess I will just have to bring it right away.”

He got to go, at which point Tanya wasted no time taking the glass of water and dish of medicine. “I got it, don’t worry!” She said, as though she needed an excuse. Spy let it happen. They made their way down the hallway, which he couldn’t help observing each time he walked down it. Dozens of frames lined the walls, little snapshots of their lives slowly connecting. There were most of the kids by far, and the stark contrast between the pigtailed toddler to the young woman before him might have given him whiplash so bad he would have dropped the water if he was the one holding it. 

He was forever grateful that Jeremy had taken so many pictures of all of the children, it filled in the seven year gap, and when he looked at them it was like he hadn’t missed a moment. Of course, pictures couldn’t compare with memories, but it was another thing entirely when they coincided. Todd’s smile of pride as he correctly guessed 1,782 jellybeans was just as infectious as that day. 

Naturally there were plenty of pictures of Jermey, granted, less pale. 

They made it to his door, and Spy turned the knob with his free hand. The bedroom was spacious, and the bed was too large for one. There were even more pictures, of Jeremy himself, of his mother, of him, of his friends, of his children most of all. A picture of Jeremy from his mercenary days was accompanied by a clock which read 7:22, and a tear-away calendar which read December 4, 1987. The practical decor clashed with the seven Tom Jones posters, but whatever made him happy, Spy told himself. 

Right now though, he was laid on his side tangled up in some sheets. It seemed that he didn’t hear the door open. 

“Jeremy?” “Pa?”

Spy set down the bowl on the nightstand, and Tanya mirrored his movement. He would have to be woken up, it seemed. She looked near ready to do it herself, but it had been too many times that Spy had to remind her to be gentle. He would have to do it himself.

Spy sat on the vacant side of the bed, the one that might have been occupied by a spouse if that sort of love decided to stay with him. “Jeremy,” he repeated, to no response. In  perfect carefulness, he connected his hand with the once sticking out of the bedding, perhaps the tactile input would rouse him like several mornings before. 

A backstabbed Sniper on his shoulder. The gibs of teammates fallen to an enemy Demo. Gray Mann. Years of mercenary work. Jeremy fourteen years ago, still moving, that slowed in his arms. A coldness and a stiffness that could never be mistaken was found in his son’s hand. 

A tiny squeak behind him. Tanya, clever and perceptive Tanya. Why did she have to come? 

“Is he okay..?” and the wavering of her little voice near made Spy lose composure entirely.

“I believe he has a fever.” he decided, and pressed a palm to his frigid face. “Merci, Tanya, but I would not want you to become ill as well.”

“What about you?”

“Please, you had better worry about your siblings instead. Make sure they have not destroyed the living room. Leave your father to me, yes?” Tanya, in her childish trust, only looked once over her shoulder as she walked out the door. 

December 5, 1987: 7:51

“My friend, you must remember that Herr Mundy’s case was a very special one–I had begun work almost immediately, a near infinite budget, all necessary parts on hand, a fully stocked infirmary–even if I flew out this very minute I doubt I could replicate my results.”

“I understand.”

 “Do you really?”

“I understand.”

“I am very sorry.”

“I understand.”

The telephone slotted neatly back in place. The room was cold. The bowl was cold. The bed was cold, except for the part Spy was sitting. The blanket cast aside when he searched for any sign of life certainly was not doing Jeremy any favors. That would never do.

With the fabric draped over him, he could pretend. Pretend that he was the grandfather when Tommy and Tammy played house. Pretend that he hadn’t seen the effects of gravity pooling blood to the parts of Jeremy’s body that rested against the mattress. 

A mad giggle and excited squeal from across the hall. What was the game of choice this week again?

“Boom!” Todd shouted. Right. This week they were outlaws in the southwest, two against two. 

“Wait, what town isn’t big enough for both of us?” Tommy scratched his head. He always preferred a more thorough worldbuilding in his pretend play. 

“How about…” Todd fiddled with his toy sword, “Teufort New Mexico! Y’know, like the place on papa’s mail!” At that point, he charged right for his brother, who jumped a foot in the air.

That day, Spy recalled, Jeremy was busy in the kitchen fixing himself another cup of coffee, but was quick to join in the fun. 

Spy had lingered alone in the room long enough, he decided. The little ones would soon look for a new playmate, and perhaps he could distract them from the fact that he was the only one who could. 

[crystallinegazer]

Fang's Gang pulls a heist in Sandopolis Zone!

...they're not doing very well, though.