#dd headcanon

[softasawhisper]

thinking soft thoughts about how matt likes to run his hands through long hair and how he probably misses running his fingers through foggy's after he cuts it. but foggy tuts and has him run his fingers over the little shorn sections in the back, and Matt really likes the way that feels too. absentmindedly runs his fingers over it while they sit waiting in a court lobby, giving foggy goosebumps and shivers up his spine.

[flhoarder]

Dismas is actually the second best/most patient listener out of everyone. People think his attention wanders off after 5 minutes of them starting to talk but that glassy look is just his focused/thinking face.

Reynauld figured that out a long time ago though.

[bi4bisamjess]

Matt Murdock adopts stray cats and sets out little bowls of food for them every morning. He doesn’t let them into his apartment (he’s allergic and a control freak <3), but he spends most of his time thinking about whether or not they’re okay.

[inchwormed]

perceive

[draconic-desire]

🔹 Oculus Infinitum 🔹

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.

[spoopybard]

Had to get this out of my head

[softasawhisper]

Lets say Foggy and Karen are both dusted in the snap.

Matt,for a while, struggles to go on with his life. Finally deciding that he must do all he can to honor them. He has the plaques to their offices (Nelson and Murdock; Nelson, Murdock and Page) by the door,on the inside, of his apartment.

He runs his hand over the plaques every day as he leaves to go to work, whispering a little prayer for Foggy and Karen. Tells them he misses,that he loves them. That he hopes they are happy and together where ever they are.

[flhoarder]

Headcanon: The reason why Dismas keeps talking about himself having to eat rats when he was on the run is not because that’s the worst food he’s ever had (that would be slime mold) but it’s actually because he’s fond of rats and that’s why that trauma goes deep

[remireee]

I think of cheetahs! Reader. They like to run and stalk people to scare them and run away. Reader is small in size and doesn't mind if someone teases them about it, but don't underestimate Reader's punches, kicks, and speed. Savanaclaw is definitely worth watching out for around Reader. Reader initially goes it alone because of their cheetah nature but as thegets to know the freshmen, Reader starts spending a lot of time with them, mostly because the freshmen antics are quite funny.

If there are any mistakes, please forgive me because English is not my first language.

Awww, and how you and Jack would probably be bffs as well as rivals in the track and field club because you would always manage to beat him by quite big margins. It gets on his nerves but that too makes him determined to work harder to try and beat you one day.

You being all buddy buddy with all of Savanaclaw's freshmen would also catch the attention of Leona, who before this, didn't even know of your existence. He's tempted to employ you to be the ambassador of the freshmen so he doesn't have to do as much work if not for him still wanting control over every aspect of the dorm.

Ruggie on the other hand would definitely try to be all buddy buddy with you after hearing about you from the other members of the dorm. His head filled ways he could use your influence on the freshmen for his own personal benefit all under the guise of a fellow dorm member.

[smolestboop]

i got both amorous for Audrey and Alhazred and Junia was at the center of it and i'm crying, this is perfect. now, i'm obligated to draw them

[draconic-desire]

Been meaning to start this: any series of mine that has more than one part will get its own page! So here is my first ever series, A Dance With a Dragon: Yandere Neuvillette x Reader!

Summary

As an aspiring marine biologist, moving to Fontaine has always been your dream. But the last thing you expected is to have caught the eye of Fontaine’s Chief Justice. Powerless against his tide, you have no choice but to be swept into the dragon’s dance.

Main story

Un: The Tides Beckon

Deux: Mates

Trois: Opera

Quarte: Escape

Interludes

Neuvillette and (Y/n) visit her parents’ grave

[diyahatnight]

↳ Model for love

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x gn! reader

SMAU

Fluff, angst

Synopsis: You and your best friend are models, you both made the decision to become models together when you were 12. Fortunately, you both fulfilled that dream but you modeled at different agencies. You lived a pretty quiet life, famous, pretty, had a lot of friends, single, and rich. Gojo on the other hand lived almost the same life, the difference was he wasn’t single. His parents forced him into a relationship that he doesn’t want to be in when he was 19. He’s a grown man, he can make his own decisions? But he feels obligated to be in this relationship in order to please his parents and this girl. He’s almost 99.9% sure that this girl also isn’t happy in this relationship and is cheating, but for some reason he just won’t leave. No one knows the reason why. not even him. You know him like the back of your hand. Maybe you can fix this? Maybe you can finally get him to fulfill his promise he made to you at twelve? “Let’s get together when we’re older!”

➜ Disclaimer! This is a gender neutral reader. But I have a problem with using she/her pronouns and forgetting to use they/them pronouns. You can portray y/n how ever you want because y/n is you! Photos used will be based off aesthetic…

Comment on Taglist✿ to be added!

❥ Chapter one

01. Who’s Rachel?

02. Anything for “Love”

03. Since when?

04. Call me instead.

05. A break.

06. Single (finally)

❥ Chapter two

07. “Couples” trip

08. Easy

09. Nobody important

10. brokies

11.

12.

[electronix-arts]

i like to think disassembly drones like jump head first/pounce into the snow like how foxes do when hunting rodents under the snow

like imagine j doing this shit best thought i’ve ever had

[msfisherot]

[bunnies-and-blues]

Hi~ your post on study session headcanons was so relatable for me, because I’m preparing for exams right now! Wish Kogure-sempai could keep me company while I revise… Sigh

Would you do headcanons for Mitsui, Rukawa, Kogure, and how they’d make up with their s/o after an fight?

Thank you so much! Keep up the good work!

─꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱─ slam dunk : kiss & make up ☆

⸝⸝ tl;dr : fights are always the worst thing to have with your partner. work features mitsui, rukawa, kogure, and you !

⸝⸝ note : not really hurt/comfort, but more so just the comfort after talking it out with the sd boys ! and thank u sm, peach, wishing you the best on exams ! (even though its vv late) =DD

you don't even remember what you fought about . was it a conflict on schedules ? were you being too clingy ? or lack thereof ? whatever it was, it felt awful .

mitsui hisashi . . .

look, i love the guy, but he's not the best at communication

chances are, he'll be giving you the cold shoulder for a couple of days, even though his heart yearns for your presence and his eyes automatically search for your name whenever his phone lights up with a notification

i feel like he'd be a bit prideful, not replying for hours on end and giving you terse replies whenever you speak — like i said, awful communication skills !!

secretly though, he'd be asking his friends for advice — kogure, specifically. and to some extent akagi as well; he knows that both of them are level-headed enough to hear both yours and his side of the story.

eventually, he breaks ; he misses being around you : (

mitsui stops you just as you were about to leave the room. it was late afternoon, the sun's rays slanting through the classroom windows. dust motes swirl lazily in the light as mitsui steps towards you once, twice, three times, until eventually you two are facing each other. his eyes are downcast, his feet shuffling on the worn wooden floors. "look, i - uh -" he starts, and he curses. why the hell can't he talk ? even when you're not doing anything, you can still render him speechless. he stops, takes a deep breath, starts again. "i just wanted to say that i'm sorry, for you know, not answering your messages and not calling you back. ignoring you. i - i have no excuse for that; and i'm not proud of it, either. but i just wanna say that, whatever we fought about, we- we can talk it out, if you're okay with that. i wanna make this right. i don't like being in fights with you, and it feels weird, not talking to you. and the thing is, i-" he sighs again, his gaze finally coming up to meet yours. his words come out in a whisper, his statement meant for you and you only. "- i missed you."

kogure kiminobu . . .

easily the best communicator out of the three !!

he's the type of person that strives to end any miscommunication before it could even begin, so fights and arguments with him are infrequent, if not completely rare

the only scenario i can see wherein you'd get in a fight with him is about how maybe you're working too hard -- studying from the time you get home to the early hours of morning with no breaks in-between

kogure hates seeing you suffer, so often times he tries to offer advice, even if you don't want or need it

eitherway, an argument would happen ; maybe some hurtful words were thrown around, words that neither of you meant

regardless of who instigated, kogure would always be the one to first make amends

all around you, the world goes on -- students chatting excitedly over lunch, footsteps echoing all across the campus, birds and cars and people all just trying to move forward. but in this corner of the school, the one with the flowering cherry tree behind the cafeteria, the world only consisted of you and him. you fidget with the water bottle in your hands, the condensation making your palms wet. the sweltering noontime heat makes you dizzy. (or was it from your lack of sleep?) you raise your handkerchief to swipe at your sweat, but kogure beats you to it -- gently, he dabs his at your forehead, then your cheeks, then your neck. his hands are cool despite the heat. "i'm sorry for what i said the other day," he says as he cools you down. "i ... i just don't want to see you having a hard time. i know that your deadlines were near and you have so much to do but i just really don't like seeing you so ... tired. you haven't been talking much lately and i haven't seen you smile all week so i - i just --" "kiminobu." you cut him off, leaning your cheek into his palm. kogure's heart pounds in his chest ; you say his name so sweetly, so softly. "it's okay." "are you sure?" he stammers, leaning forward to caress your face better. "it's just that i know i said some things that i shouldn't have said and it's --" "kiminobu," you repeat again, your tone firm but gentle at the same time. you rest the weight of your head on his palms (along with the weight you've been feeling all week) and you smile at him. "it's okay." kogure stares at you for a moment, then he smiles back, his eyes crinkling and a laugh spilling from his lips. "okay," he repeats, nodding his head. "okay." he laughs, and it feels like he's weightless, floating on cloud nine.

rukawa kaede . . .

not much to say for rukawa tbh

but in all seriousness, the aftermath of your fights with rukawa would be silent and cold. much like mitsui, he tends to prioritize his pride and sore heart over actually making amends with you.

but that doesn't mean he doesn't care !

more often than not, he ends up with his fingers hovering over his phone's keyboard, trying desperately to think of a way to apologize to you, before sighing and just turning his phone off

he plays basketball to let off the steam, and also to occupy his mind from the lack of your presence : (

the sounds of rukawa's basketball hitting the floor echoes throughout the empty gym, mixing in with the sounds of cicadas chirping in the trees. moths gather under lamplights, their wings silvery in the night. bam-bam-bam goes the ball, before his pace stuttersto a halt. he wipes the sweat off his forehead and checks the time -- 7 pm. that's enough practice for one day. the cold night air greets him as he walks out the gym. as he swings his leg over his bike, he sees a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. "you're still here," he states, deadpan. he still hasn't figured out how to apologize to you, and his stiffness shows in his voice. "yeah," you reply, clutching your bag tighter. you had been in the library with your classmates up until that point, working hard to finish a group project before tomorrow's deadline. silence between the two of you. you walk on, and so does he, the click-click-click of his bike wheels the only sound disrupting the quiet turmoil of each other's thoughts. the two of you exit the school campus, and for a moment you both falter on the concrete sidewalk, shoes scuffling the grit underfoot. "i'll- i'll go this way, then," you mutter. what the hell, he hates this! everything feels so ... stilted. before rukawa could reply, you turn on your heel and start walking in the direction of the train station. you barely manage three steps before rukawa cycles by, blocking you with his bike. he takes your bag and puts it in the front basket. pats the passenger seat of his bike with a determined gaze. "i'll take you home," he says. his voice is softer now. there wasn't much else to do except to sit on the backseat of his bike and let him pedal you home, the night air causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. "wrap your arms around me," rukawa instructs. the wind carries his words, lifts it to your ear. you swear his breath hitches just the tinest bit when you do what he says, adding in a small nuzzle to his side for good measure. "i'm sorry," you whisper after a while, voice half-muffled by the fabric of his coat. your fingers toy with the zipper of his jacket. rukawa is silent for a bit, then he takes one hand off the handlebar and puts it atop yours. he intertwines your fingers with his, squeezing. his pulse vaguely thumps through his skin, sending beats vibrating through your palm. "i'm sorry, too."

[softasawhisper]

headcanon: MattFoggy and sharing their college dorm

Foggy comes back from their first holiday break with a mini butane stove top,and a small quantity of choice cuts and grocery odds and ends his mother sent back with him to store in his mini fridge and ikea cabinet. The stove top isn't allowed in the dorms but Foggy has given up on giving a shit.

"Your food will stink up the halls and our RA will find out." "Stop worrying! Just crack a fucking window my dear Mister, Goody Two Shoes, Murdock. We're dining like thrifty KINGS from now on. I'm not using the communal microwave anymore, it's ancient. Plus,no one ever cleans it out, and I swear it sparked the last time I used it. How do they not consider THAT a fire hazard?"

He serves Matt the best cost effective ramen he's ever had, and then promptly starts a small fire ("I put it out right away!") the next time he uses the stovetop when Matt is not home. Tries to hide that he did, but the smell still lingers no matter how open the windows are.

"Stop laughingggg! It wasn't my fault, marshmallows are so flammable!" "Then don't cook marshmallows on a stovetop,indoors, Foggy" "S'mores Matthew. S'MORES! They aren't good without a little char anyway, I'm not going to eat them raw." "*giggles* They aren't raw Foggy." "FRESH MALLOW RIGHT OFF THE SKEWER BONE."

to which Matt says''they are made of gelatin so they are essentially sugary bone innards themselves'' and foggy is like ''heh yeah. gross.'