#shark will not get to turn me into bread.

[divinefleshmage]

[azzo0]

Happy Mama Day

Summary: Touya and the kids surprise you for Mother's Day.

Contains: soft Touya, fluff, kids n sappy stuff

Pairing: Touya x f!reader

wc: 2.1k

Based on this idea.

Touya buried his face under a blanket when little hands slapped his cheek. A little girl's voice screamed at him excitedly to wake up. He opened his eyes slightly, sighing into the pillow when both his kids started jumping on the bed, singing, "Wake up! Wake up!"

"Daddy, Daddy, Keiko said it's Mama day today!" His son yelled, pulling the blanket off him.

"It's called Mother's Day, not Mama Day, Takeo." His daughter sassed, crossing her arms as if she knew some great secret her younger brother didn't.

"Stop jumping, Takeo. I'm up." Touya sighed, sitting up and running a hand through his snowy hair, disheveled from sleep. Takeo jumped into Touya's lap, making him let out an 'oomph.'

"Daddy, Keiko told me-" the three-year-old began. Sometimes, Toya was surprised by how fluently the child could speak since most three-year-old's he knew yapped in baby language. He talked to Rei about it, and she told him he used to be the same.

"Keiko-Nee." He corrected, his gaze shifting to his eldest. She excitedly crawled to him and sat on her knees excitedly. He ruffled her bright red hair and looked down at Takeo, "What did she tell you?"

"Keiko-Nee told me that her teacher told her it's Mama Day!" The boy exclaimed.

"Is it?" He hummed.

"Can we do something special for Mama when she gets back from work?" Keiko asked. "My teacher told me you can show your thanks to your mothers today! Let's do something special!"

"How do we show our thanks?" Takeo asked, tilting his head.

"We can make her cards and make her favorite food or buy her gifts!"

Takeo gasped and looked up at Touya with wide eyes, the same colour as yours, "Does that mean we can cook a cake?"

"Bake a cake," Touya threw the child over his shoulder and got off the bed, holding a hand out for Keiko. She took his hand and jumped off the bed, "Sure we can, but first you two need to eat breakfast, clean up your rooms, get ready for the day, do your homework and then we'll bake Mama a cake, okay?"

"It's not fair that I have homework and Takeo doesn't!" Keiko lamented, puffing her cheeks out.

"He does have homework. He has a colouring book to fill. Isn't that right, Taki?"

The three year old nodded his head even though he wasn't sure what 'homework' was. Touya took the kids downstairs and made them sit at the dining table. He went into the kitchen and put on the apron. He took out a few eggs and beat them up with milk and sugar. He dipped slices of bread inside the eggs and then fried them, keeping them a little soft because that's the way his babies liked it.

He took the plates out in the dining room, setting them in front of the kids, "Eat up."

"Thank you," the two chimed.

He sat across from Keiko and Takeo. He sighed when Takeo began breaking the bread into bits without putting them in his mouth. Touya quickly finished his breakfast and helped Takeo with his. After breakfast, the kids followed him upstairs so they could clean their bedrooms. Keiko was six, old enough to make her bed and tidy her room, but Takeo still needed help, given he was only three.

He folded Takeo's blanket and kept it in the crib while Takeo picked up the toys littered on the floor and dumped them in the toybox. Once Touya was done with Takeo's room, he went to Keiko's room, watching his daughter huff and puff as she folded her giant blanket all by herself. She turned to him after she was done, flexing her arms, "I did it by myself!"

"You did great, Keiko." He lowered his back with Takeo on his hip and kissed Keiko's hair. He took her hand and led the kids to the bathroom.

He put Takeo down, took Keiko's unicorn toothbrush, put a small amount of toothpaste on it and handed it to her. He then proceeded to put toothpaste on Takeo's smaller shark toothbrush. He gave him the toothbrush and watched him look up at his sister and try to imitate her. Touya smiled to himself and took his toothbrush hanging beside yours. He brushed his teeth along with his kids and then helped them wash their faces, making them giggle when he patted them dry.

"Cake time!" Keiko squealed, stomping downstairs with Takeo chanting 'cake' behind her.

"Homework first, you two." Touya reminded sternly.

"But I don't have school tomorrow. I can do it later!" Keiko whined, "And Taki's homework isn't even real homework! You just make him sit down and colour a bunch'a pages so you can watch soccer on the TV!"

Toya raised his eyebrows amusedly as Keiko tapped her foot on the floor impatiently. He let out a chuckle and turned to the kitchen, "Alright, alright. Just don't make a mess, okay?"

"Yes!!" She exclaimed, taking Takeo's hand and following after her father.

Touya helped Keiko and Takeo into little aprons and rummaged through the cabinets, looking for the cake mix he bought ages ago. It's not that he didn't know how to bake a cake from scratch, but with two kids involved, the kitchen was bound to get chaotic. He found a vanilla cake mix and took out a bowl and a hand beater, setting everything on the counter. He opened the flaps of the cake mix as the kids watched him excitedly. He took out a white coloured packet and cut it open with a pair of scissors.

"Can I put it in the bowl?" Keiko asked.

"Sure ya can. Come closer." He handed her the packet, and she carefully put the mix into the bowl. Keiko snatched the cake mix box and read the instructions, squinting her eyes as she tried to read the sentences.

"It says to... mix water, oil, 'n eggs with a mixer on... meedum...?"

"Medium," Toya corrected, encouraging her to go on.

"...speed or beat by hand for two minutes." She finished with a grin. Touya patted her hair and measured out the water and oil, which Takeo insisted he wanted to pour. Touya picked up Takeo so he could reach for the cups he had measured. He watched Takeo pick up the cup of oil in his chubby hands and empty it into the cake mix, followed by the water.

"You want to crack the egg?" Toya asked Keiko, smiling when she nodded excitedly. He showed her how to crack an egg and then handed her another one. She managed to crack the egg and let its contents fall into a bowl.

"Do we beat with an electric mixer or hand?" Keiko asked.

"Hand beater," Toya replied. He mixed the ingredients and then let Keiko take over for a little bit. Of course, Takeo didn't want to be left out and had to take a turn whipping the batter.

"And then we pop it in the oven," Touya transferred the batter into a cake pan and put it in the oven that had been preheating for some time.

"Daddy, while we wait, let's make Mama a birthday card!" Keiko exclaimed, pulling on his hand.

"I've got some cleaning up to do, Kei. You make one with your brother-"

"No! Don't you gotta wish Mom Happy Mother's Day too?" Keiko put her foot down and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yes, let's make a mama card," Takeo added.

"Fine," Touya sighed, "Let's go make a mama card."

He sat on the floor in the living room with the kids. Keiko handed him and Takeo A4-size papers and let them use her sketch pens and colour pencils. She told him how to make a card, speaking as if she was giving away the world's darkest secret, "So, basically, you fold it in half like this, and then you write 'Happy Mother's Day' in fancy handwriting. You can make a drawing if you wanna, and then on the inside, you thank Mama for all she's done. Any questions?"

"No, ma'am, thank you." Dabi picked up a blue sketch pen and nudged Takeo, "Say thanks to your sister, Taki."

"Fanks."

Touya had never made cards for anyone before. Sure, he'd received plenty of sweet ones from you, but he never gave you one in return. He folded the paper in half and tried mustering up his fanciest handwriting, which turned out looking like a doctor's note. He picked up a red sketch pen and threw in a couple of hearts and smiley faces.

He moved on to the inside of the card, and that's where he got stuck. The green sketch pen hovered over the paper as he thought of what to put inside. He had so much he wanted to thank you for. Your love, your support and your kindness. The list went on and on. He glanced up from the paper to see Keiko beautifully decorating the card while Takeo went on a scribbling spree. He smiled softly at the kids and looked down at the paper. He knew just what to write.

You knocked on the door and yawned, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. It had been a long day at work, but you couldn't wait to greet your husband and kids and then spend some time together on the couch after dinner. You heard a few excited cries, and the door was thrown open.

"HAPPY MAMA DAY!!" Takeo screamed, hugging your leg.

"Happy Mother's Day!" Keiko exclaimed with a grin, hopping from foot to foot.

"Oh, my babies." You smiled and stepped inside, pulling them both in a hug. You kissed their cheeks and made them giggle. "Thank you so much."

"No, thank you for all you do, Mama! You're so cool!" Keiko beamed.

"So cool!" Takeo agreed.

"Okay, okay, let ya mama breathe." You looked up when you heard Touya's voice. His lips tugged up on the side in a smirk, "Hey. Happy Mama Day."

"Thank you," you laughed, kissing his cheek.

"We baked you a cake, and Papa made your favorite dinner!" Keiko exclaimed, "We also made you cards!"

"Mhm?" You took the card from Keiko and read through it with a stupid grin. You kissed her nose, "Aww, thank you, Kei. You're so sweet."

"Here is my mama card." Takeo waved his drawing in front of your face. You took it from him and gushed over the stick figures of him and you holding hands.

"It's lovely, thank you, Taki." You squished his cheeks together lovingly.

"Papa, where's your card?" Keiko asked.

"I didn't make any. What are you talking about?" Touya shrugged.

"Lies!"

Touya sheepishly revealed the hand in which he held the card. You got up from the floor and took the card, giggling at his messy handwriting adorned with hearts, flowers and smiley faces. It was so unlike him. You flipped it open and read it.

Happy Mama Day, wifey.

There's a lot I wish I could say to you more often, but putting it here feels easier. Thank you for all that you've done for me and our kids. Thank you for being by my side when nobody was and for holding my hand on sleepless nights and shooing away my nightmares. Thanks for dragging me out of my depressive episodes and taking me on ice cream dates. I'll never forget them. The ice cream was delicious, by the way.  

Thank you for birthing our beautiful children. I'm so lucky to have you by my side to raise our kids. You're my definition of a blessing in human form.

With love,

Your handsome husband,

Touya

(P.S. You have a nice butt)

Your hands quivered as you read the note. Your eyes blurred with hot tears. They fell onto the card, and he pulled you into him and kissed your temple. You wrapped your arms around him and buried your nose in his chest, feeling his warmth seep into your skin, "Thank you, Touya."

"My words hit ya that deep? Maybe I should be a poet." He chuckled, combing your hair with his fingers.

"There's nothin' poetic about it." You muffled into his chest. You pulled away and pressed a kiss on his lips. His hand went to rest on your lower back as he leaned into you.

You were aware of the kids watching, so you pulled away and glanced back to see Keiko pretending to be very interested in the door handle while Takeo tugged at his sister's sleeve. You chuckled and held an arm open, "Come here, Keiko, Takeo."

You scooped up Takeo while Touya picked up Keiko. You let your head rest against Touya's shoulder, your heart brimming with joy and contentment, "I love my little family."

[euovennia]

"what's so funny?" | task force 141

this blurb has been on my mind so much ever since it first appeared in my inbox and i'm so happy to have finally written it, my dumb little gen z brain couldn't resist. thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3

pairing: youngest!reader x (platonic) task force 141

warnings: none

summary: the team gets curious when you seem to having just a little too much fun while scrolling through your phone. (based on this request)

The team doesn't seem to notice your small huffs of laughter at first, and if they do, they don't seem to give it a second thought. Why would they? You laughing at random videos on your phone had practically become second nature to them by this point. So, they remain quiet, each of them doing their own separate thing in the common area. Gaz reading some random article about sharks on his phone, Ghost and Soap watching some low-budget action film on the television, and Price busying himself with some random crossword from a book of puzzles he'd picked up for himself not too long ago. They don't bother to interrupt your screen time as you sit propped up in the corner with your phone in your hands. They've come to learn you're often far too enthralled with the minute long videos you religiously scroll through to give them more than a quick smile of acknowledgement. They don't mind, however, it seems to make you happy.

Even so, they can't help but each feel a little curious as your faint smiles of amusement turn into small fits of giggles that you can barely contain with a painful bite to your lip. By the time Gaz finishes up reading his article, you're practically bursting at the seams as you try to contain your laughter. He watches you from across the room with great interest as you give your phone screen another swipe with a swift movement of your thumb. He keeps his eyes concentrated on your smiling face, eagerly waiting to see your reaction to the video you're currently watching. He's glad he did, because he's first to witness the way your resolve practically shatters as you fall into a loud fit of laughter. Each of the men give each other a shared look before Ghost stands up from the uncomfortable couch and makes his way over to you.

He stops just a few steps shy of you, "What's so funny?"

You give yourself a moment to calm down and take in a deep breath before handing him your phone with a large grin. He watches the video, his brows knitting themselves together in a state of confusion before he looks back down at you once the short video is finished playing.

"You're kidding me."

You grab your phone from his hands and haphazardly place it back onto the small table before standing up and grabbing his wrist.

"We need to do that, now."

He lets out a grunt, "We're not fuckin'–"

He's cut off by you reaching forward and grabbing onto his wrist with a soft touch.

"Please? I really wanna do it."

His eyes flicker back over to the video that's looping itself on your phone before settling his gaze back onto you who's staring up at him with a dopey grin and hopeful eyes. He's found he has a hard time saying no to you nowadays.

He sighs, "Fine."

Your face glistens with delight at his words and you're quick to pull him away from the room with the rest of the team still being able to hear you say something like, "this is gonna be so funny!"

Price, convinced you've whisked Ghost away to take part in something diabolical, quickly gets up from his chair and makes his way over to your abandoned phone. He picks it up with a careful grip and watches the video that's still looping.

Soap is the first to speak up after a few moments have passed, "What was it?"

Price's face is one of pure confusion as he turns the phone to face the men awaiting his response, "It's just a slice of bread falling over."

Gaz's face lights up as he gets up from his seat, "I wanna see some bread fall over," He cheers before rushing off in the direction of where you had taken Ghost.

The remaining two men watch him scurry off before turning to each other, the eldest of the two looking exceptionally confused as he speaks out, "Is this meant to be funny?"

Soap shrugs, "I prefer the one where the bread is having flashbacks, but the original one is fine too."

Price gapes at the Scotsman, "Flashbacks?!"

[the-kr8tor]

KATY AGAIN, CONGRATULATIONS, HONESTLY I FEEL LIKE A PROUD LITTLE SISTER 🥳🤭💕💕 , YOU'VE COME SO FAR, I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT! I just wished I'd met you sooner, then I could call myself an og 💪 *sigh*

Feel free to ignore my rec if you have no inspiration, or there are other recs that need tending to 🥺

Can I get a ❣️ shaped bottle full to the brim of epsom salt and Baby's breath, please! - a short fluffy drabble consisting of the twins helping their father out during his day to day tasks on the ship

Thank you ml ❤️❤️ you're an honorary og in my heart 🩷

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw pregnancy talk, cw food mentions, dad! Hobie, mom! Reader, an au of my BDAS series, Billie and Ramona AU, Twins AU. Fluff!

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

“Wake up, guppies.” Hobie whispers, hands placed on Billie and Mona's shoulders, rocking them awake. It's easier when they prefer to sleep on the same bed even though they have their own right next to each other. He traces each of their noses, and they wiggle it in their half sleep state. “Thought you two wanted to help the captain today?”

Ramona is the first one to wake up, yawning, similar grey eyes cracking open. “Hi, dad.” She gives him a soft smile that Hobie reciprocates.

“Hello, guppy.” He gently rubs away sand from her sleepy eyes. “Good dream?”

“Yes, it was the mermaid dream again.” She whispers, ever so polite. “Bee and I were reading under the water while you and mum were making us hot chocolate.”

Hobie tilts his head with endearment. “How could you read underwater when the books would get wet?”

Her eyes shine, “mermaid magic.”

“I wouldn't have thought that, lovie.” She giggles, stretching on the mattress. Her hand smacks Billie to wake, groaning and frowning while she stirs.

Hobie senses an early tantrum. “G’morning, shark.”

She smiles at the ‘menacing’ nickname. Crisis averted. “Morning, daddy.” Turning towards Mona, she flicks her bicep. “You hit me.”

“Sorry, mon.”

Again, Hobie senses a fight. He's getting good at this. “What did you dream ‘bout, guppy?” He tucks away curls that have fallen in front of her face. That seemed to soften the twins away from fighting.

“I dreamed that grandad Miguel visited us on the ship and he was wearing a duck costume.”

“A duck costume?” Hobie and Mona ask at the same time.

Billie giggles with a shrug, “maybe he likes ducks.”

Hobie chuckles, too loudly. He quickly twists around to check on you. Thankfully, you still lay asleep, drooling on the pillow. Satisfied, he returns his attention towards his girls. “You two know the drill. Get dressed, brush your teeth—”

“And eat breakfast, then help the crew and captain dad.” They finish his sentence for him with a grin, twin telepathy working its magic.

He gives them a proud smile, patting each of their cheeks. “That's my girls.”

—

All three of them sit and eat outside with the ever rambunctious crew. Loaves of bread are being tossed around as people ask for them, jams are passed to and fro while Billie and Mona happily chatter with Yuri and Ned. Hobie smiles as the sun shines down on the long table, everything seems perfect with only Gwen, Miles, Pavitr and a handful of the crew with them are away on the second ship. The twins miss them dearly but after a few restless nights of them bawling their eyes out, they're counting down the days until they return back on the main ship.

The only person who isn't miles away but is very much missed on the breakfast table is you. Hobie resists the urge to wake you up, to pepper your face with saccharine kisses until you wake. But you need the sleep, especially that you're carrying the youngest crew member in your growing belly.

After breakfast, Billie and Mona help take down the dishes to the galley where Finn waits for each plate and utensil with a mountain of patience since the tiny crew members could only carry two plates at a time with some help from James. And James distracts them a lot with his stories. One time, Finn has been waiting for the next batch of dishes to be brought down, only to find the trio sitting on the stairs while James turns into their personal storyteller. Thankfully this time though, the only hang up is that Billie and Mona have small legs that don't cover much ground. With the combined help of James and Hobie (even though he needed to talk to Yuri) helped with the dishes.

Next on the agenda is a meeting with his navigator and a few of the crew members inside the captain's office. The twins seem to hate this only thing on the schedule. They sit and wait, and wait some more. With boredom etched on their faces, Ned had a brilliant idea to place a blanket down over a free table where the girls could hang out with their books, toys and drawing notebooks that Miles gifted them. Their giggles and own meeting about which biscuit is the best can be heard under the table while Hobie talks about strategy, he couldn't help but smile the entire meeting. Now it's their favourite part of the day until they see you awake that is.

Hobie brought them back on the deck with the sole purpose of teaching them how to tie knots. Or rather, they begged him to teach them. His calloused hands tie a simple ribbon around a bannister using a silk ribbon instead of the usual rough rope so that their hands wouldn't be irritated by it. His mind wanders back to the day that he first taught you how to properly secure a knot, it seems like forever ago now. But it's not so much a distant memory for him everytime he looks at you, and traces the scars on your palms— it's as if it happened just yesterday.

Waking up from his thoughts of you, he turns around to check on their progress. “Let's see what you've done then.” He's greeted by Mona's curly hair tied around the silky ribbon while Billie's curls are almost identical to hers. All tied around a cute ribbon. Though the pigtails are a bit wonky, they look absolutely adorable. He wishes that Miles could draw the moment so that he could show you later.

“Did we do good?” Mona smiles hopefully, Billie gives her dad the biggest, most adorable grin that could rival the brightness of the sun. Upon seeing this, Mona does the same, even making her eyelashes flutter. A trick that she must've gotten from you.

Hobie crouches down to their height, hands running along their hair and checking the neat ribbons. Surprisingly, they're pretty good at it. Wait till you hear your daughters are better at tying ribbons than you.

He exhales to compose himself from all the cuteness lest he scoops them up in his arms and scream into the sea, telling neptune himself at how adorable his children are.

“Brilliant, you're both brilliant.” They giggle, puffing their chests proudly.

Lo and behold, Hobie still scoops them up in his arms, giving them a squeeze. Both girls shriek happily, legs kicking about as Hobie rises to his full height. He has an idea, which might make Ned pop a blood vessel.

“How about we steer the ship?” Their eyes widened, excited screeching echoing around the deck as they nod furiously.

—

You wake up to the quiet lull of the sea. Waves lapping at the great ship, wood creaking, and blankets falling off your body when a tall wave meets the side of the ship. Water splashes against the porthole, stirring you awake further.

“—Bie?” Your throat scratches with sleep, eyes still heavy as you pat his side of the bed. “Hobie?” Finding it cold and empty, you prop yourself up by your elbows, sniffing at the cool air. “Billie? Mona?” Looking over your girls' toddler beds, you disappointedly find them both empty.

Their rooms aren't quite ready yet according to their standards, the walls aren't pink enough, and their desks aren't big enough. But you and Hobie think that they're still a little bit afraid of sleeping in their own room without the comforting presence of their mum and dad. You don't mind it at all, you also don't think you can sleep without their soft snores across the room. They are still your babies after all.

It's not unusual to find the captain's quarters devoid of your little family, not when both girls are starting to get used to their sea legs after spending the first three years of their life waddling around the shores of your shared home. They were beyond ecstatic when you and Hobie told them that it's the right time to go back to sailing the seas, something that you thought that they wouldn't even care about. But of course they would be excited, after all, their father is the greatest pirate to ever sail the seven seas (according to him and his girls.)

They're very much at home on the ship, so much so that they always wake up their ‘captain dad’ so they could help him with his morning routine even before breakfast is served. Hobie also loves being back, it's like he has never left the embrace of the tides.

Hobie has been a great sport the entire time, whenever the girls would cry about motion sickness or throwing tantrums when they want to climb up on the crow’s nest (because if aunt Yuri can do it, so can they!) he would be there helping you calm them down. Even though he hates waking up before the sun is barely peeking over the horizon, he loves it when he wakes up to his girls' smiling faces. There's nothing better than stirring awake with their little hands patting his face until they ultimately give up and use their feet to kick his legs. The girls would wake you up too but with you carrying the newest crew member in your bump, they're opting to just wake up their dad for now. Hobie has managed to convince the girls that you needed twice the amount of sleep because of the baby. Or managed to swindle them with hot chocolate in the morning, based on the fact that whenever you kiss each of them good morning, they always smell like the sweet drink.

You swing your legs at the end of the bed, socked feet padding along the room to grab your sweater, (or Hobie's old sweater for that matter) after changing and washing your face with the water basin, you head off towards the upper deck. Knowing that they're running along the floors trying to take the mop from James, who refuses to give up his job to a couple of four year olds. Walking along the corridors doesn't leave you winded just yet, you can still see your foot if you look down despite the bump. You have no idea if you can traverse the large ship once you hit the stage of having a stomach as big as a watermelon instead of the coconut sized belly you're strutting around with.

Passing along the galley, you pause at the open doorway, seeing Finn make pie crusts has you wanting to stay and help out. And by help out, you mean taking a little nibble of fruit while he looks away. You still remember the days where you used to spend hours helping in the kitchen.

“Knock knock.” You greet him with a smile. “Have you seen a certain pair of twins with their dad running after them?”

Finn chuckles, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His grey hair weaved around blonde strands has the twins calling him Santa, or when they're in a good mood (when they want a sweet treat) they call him grandpa Finn, that has the older pirate folding immediately and making whatever the girls want. Unsurprisingly enough, he answers back. “A pair of twins and a pirate walk into a bar, I think I've heard of that joke before.”

“Different joke, Finn.” You snort, eyeing the bowl of blueberries on the counter. Finn, being the perceptive chef on board, notices your hard stare at the fruit.

Without a word, he nudges the bowl towards you, and then he points up towards the deck, replying to your previous question.

“This is why you're my favourite crew member.” Latching onto the bowl, you take it with a smile. “Don't tell Yuri.” He makes a face, putting both flour coated hands up in surrender.

You leave with a grin and a bowl of blueberries. It's still a mystery to you on how Finn keeps them fresh even after weeks of buying them from the last coastal town you anchored in for supplies. You guess you'll never know.

Walking up the steps towards the deck, you're greeted by blinding light as you open the door with a creek. The sight alone would've had you melting if not for the fragile bowl in your hands. Hobie stands on the highest deck with Billie and Ramona in his arms. While both girls are ‘steering’ the ship with their small hands gripping on the wheel as if they're actually sailing the huge ship.

“Mornin’ gorgeous.” Yuri nudges your side, hands dipping inside the bowl to take a handful of fruit, sunlight dancing along her features. “Sleep well? Or did the little pirate keep you awake?”

With the mention of the baby, your hand instinctively pats the bump softly. “Nope, the baby barely kicked me last night. And Hobie helped by letting me sleep in.”

Yuri hums, smiling softly between you and the twins laughing in their dad's arms. “He better, or I'll be the one to kick Hobie where the sun doesn't shine so he doesn't experience fatherhood ever again.”

You laugh, “that is bleak, Yuri.”

She shrugs, “I'm a pirate, Y/N, a pirate who hasn't shot her gun at a navy in months.”

“Sure, big bad pirate, who has made my girls' clothes ever since they were born.” She huffs with a teasing smile, taking another handful of berries. “Don't worry, once Gwen and the others get back from their scouting mission, you get to be a big bad pirate again.”

“I'm turning soft, doc.” She looks at you with puppy dog eyes, lashes fluttering teasingly.

“I know, Yuri, you made my girls puppets last week.”

“And they were fucking gorgeous.”

You start to walk away before she takes half of your stash. “They were! If you get tired of being a pirate, maybe being a puppet maker is your calling.”

She flips you off, grinning from ear to ear before going below deck to maybe annoy Finn instead. Bounding up the steps, Hobie and the twins heard you before they saw you.

“Mummy!” They simultaneously call out, wiggling out of Hobie's arms. He lets them gently back down on the floor, to which they immediately latch onto your legs, trying to climb up.

“Hello, my darlings!” You coo, patting both their heads. Their matching captain tricorns make you giggle. “What have you two been up to?”

“A lot!” Billie jumps up and down to reach your hip, you meet her halfway by crouching down to their level. “We fixed the sail with uncle Ned—”

“We helped auntie Yuri find land by looking into her te-escope!”

You nod enthusiastically, smile blindingly bright as you hold on to them. “What else? You two looked busy with dad.”

Hobie leans on the wheel that's still not activated with the help of a rope tied around the bottom and the other end wrapped around the bannister. The girls are none the wiser. The sun bathes Hobie in glorious light, rays of light seeping through his linen shirt, looking as if no time has passed.

“I should be careful, they're goin' to take my job as captain if they continue their trainin’”

You gasp, feigning hurt. “You mean they're planning a mutiny?! No, not my own girls!”

“What's a mu-tiny?” Billie questions, brows furrowed, an identical look that her sister is also sporting.

Hobie closes the small distance, boots thumping along the floorboards, looking softly at his girls while his hands find their way on their heads. “Tell you what, help uncle James clean the poop deck and I'll tell you.”

“Aye, aye, captain dad!” They say at the same time, even saluting Hobie. Before they could run off, you call them back.

“Take the blueberries, share them with each other, alright? Pass it around to the crew too.” You hand the bowl to them, both girls give you a grin and a smooch to each of your cheeks as thank you. Sometimes you wonder how they could be this sweet, you've joked once that they're a gift from the sea with how kind they could be. “Careful! Don't run— and they're already running off.” Their small feet bound away towards an unassuming James.

“They got that from you.” Hobie helps you up, hand warm against yours. “Always runnin’ off, always so bloody energetic.”

You prop your chin on his shoulder, smiling at him. “Did they tire you out, old man?”

“We're the same age, love.” His hand wraps behind you to cup your hip, fingers tapping along your stomach. He watches as his girls prefer to sit down on the stairs to munch on their snacks. “How's our growing pirate?”

“Good, he didn't kick me all night this time.”

“You?” Hobie leans on the bannister, back pressed on the wood while he guides you in front of him, arms around you, thumbs brushing along your spine while you cradle his jaw in your hands.

“I'm okay, Hobs, nothing of note.”

“You sure? We can still turn around so you can give birth on land.” Worry etches on his face, and you rub your hand on his forehead to flatten the worry lines.

“You forget that I was born at sea, and I've given birth to your pirate gremlins without a problem. I can handle it, don't worry.”

Hobie has a glimpse of you back then, legs coated in crimson, screams echoing around the small cabin that even silences the roar of the sea next door. “Just say the word and we'll find the nearest land, yeah?”

“I promise,” he raises a brow and you roll your eyes. “You know I never break a promise, Cap'n.”

Hobie opens his mouth to quip back, but James’ screech makes you and the pirate in your arms to look. Billie giggles as she runs away with a mop, tracking water droplets on the deck while Mona drags James down with her clinging to his leg with a laugh.

“I think we should save James before he falls overboard. Again.” You unwrap yourself from Hobie, before you could leave his side fully, he gently tugs you back in for a quick but affectionate kiss and a loving pat on your belly.

[batchilla]

The most married divorced couple - Chapter 4 - Coffee and Custody

Years of well honed instincts through gruelling training had Jason as a perpetually light sleeper. A perpetually light sleeper who knew, even in his sleep, that he was being watched. 

He opens one eye, slowly sitting up as he takes in his surroundings - his wife’s… his ex wife's penthouse apartment. Well, that told him who was watching him at least. Sure enough, peering at him from behind the furthest arm of the couch he’d spent the night on is a tell-tale mess of curls so like his own - and Mary comes scrambling, not around the couch, but up to sit on the arm. “DAD!” 

Every time. Every time, that single word reminds him that there is in fact good in the world, and that his baby girl might just be the epitome of that. She all but tackles him into a cuddle. “You're here!”

He tries not to wince. He doesn’t ever want her to hug him less enthusiastically - but last night hadn’t gone well, and becoming climbing equipment for his daughter did not exactly help his recovery. 

Jason hugs her tight “Hi baby.” he says, his head resting on hers.

“Mm not a baby.” she grumbles “are you stayin’ for breakfast?”

“If mum says yes.” He says, part of him feeling dirty over the manipulative tactic - but the truth of the matter always was that Mary had a higher success rate in campaigning for him to stay then he did. Something about those adorable little eyes, he suspects. Mary hms, tucking her head against her shoulder. 

“M’ glad you came Dad. I don’t want Mr Brett to be my new dad.” Fucking what? Part of him wanted to resort to old methods on this ‘Mr Brett’ with extreme prejudice. For sniffing around his wife and daughter, and for trying to take what should have still been his. 

“What's that now baby?” he says, trying to keep the growing emotions that were making him feel like he was on fire. She didn’t need to know about any of that. 

“Mr Brett, he walks me to school sometimes cus I’m best friends with Jaxon and Riley and Kyle, and sometimes Mum walks me with them. They say its like a ‘carpool’ but cars don’t go to the pool, and the other day he and mummy went for a playdate while I was at grandpa Bruce’s and then Mum was asking how I felt about Mr Brett and I said he was so nice but that I don’t want a new dad and then she turned on baby shark and I got distracted.”  He takes a deep breath. He can’t get mad in front of Mary. Another deep breath. He realistically can’t get mad at all. He knows that. He had been divorced from his wife for four years. She was allowed to seek out … companionship. Had he? No. Did it feel akin to a betrayal? He knew it shouldn’t - but it did. She didn’t need to be lonely - and he didn’t want her to be. But he did hope that he’d somehow end up being the solution, not this fucking ‘Mr Brett’ asshole. Even then - companionship was one thing, but a relationship serious enough she’d mention it to Mary?

“Well, I’m sure he’s… nice, if your Mum likes him.”

“Mhm. Maybe you can say hi when he comes to get me for school.” “Speaking of school!” His wife's voice sounds from her doorway, loud enough to tell him she’d heard enough of that to panic slightly. “Mary, get dressed, you’ll be late.” 

Mary reluctantly separates from the hug, dragging her feet dramatically “Okay mum. Even though Dad’s here and he NEVER is, school happens every day and is super boring.”

“Nice try bubba.” she says, folding her arms and shaking her head. The second their child shuts the door - still loudly complaining about how unfair it all was, which in Jason’s opinion was psychological warfare, which his ex wife seemed somehow immune to, Jason turns to her. “We need to talk.”

She sighs “I guess we do. But not in front of Mary.” She runs a hand through her hair. “She’ll have eggs and toast soldiers - you want some?”

“Sure,” he says, trying to sound less bitter than he feels as he watches her head to the kitchen.

“So, Brett…” He says, following her to the kitchen and grabbing the bread and putting it in the toaster.

“Charles Brett.” you clarified.

Jason had to physically restrain himself from laughing. “Charles Brett? Those are both first names. You’ve replaced me with a man with a first name for a last name.”

“I haven’t REPLACED you, you LEFT!” She says, indignant furry in her eyes as she whips around to face him, stove at her back. Jason felt his blood boil. Yes, he’d left, but he hadn’t wanted to!

“And then you wouldn’t let me come BACK!” he counters, trying to keep his voice level, but not managing it. 

“BECAUSE YOU WERE RIGHT TO LEAVE!” She yells, tears in her eyes. 

“you fighting?” Mary asks, opening her bedroom door, tugging at the tie of her Gotham academy uniform as if it had personally offended her.

  “No sweetie.” they say in unison, as they shoot her reassuring smiles.

It doesn’t work.

She regards you both suspiciously, and takes her toast and eggs “please don’t fight. Dad’s never here and mum always cries when you leave so please don’t fight now.” “What?”

“Please don’t fight. Dad’s never here and mum always gets sad when you leave so please don’t fight now.”

“What?” Jason asks, glancing from Mary to you. You were proud that you’d raised an honest, headstrong young lady who had no hesitation speaking her mind. You did sometimes, such as right now, wish she did it a little less often around Jason. Jason who was now looking at you with a face you hated for how little you could read. He used to be an open book to her. Mary pulls herself onto the chair at the kitchen bench and dips her toast into her egg. “We got two names.” she points out to Jason. “Todd’s a boy's name.”

You sigh, and sip your coffee. She’d heard all of it. How lovely. 

Your baby girl looks at you, her hair in an attempt of a ponytail, her uniform slightly overlarge still, being early in the school year, both making her look so, so tiny. “What did dad mean? That you wouldn’t let him come back?”

You feel like you're falling. Luckily, there’s no amount of hurt, upset, or angry that Jason could be that would mean he wouldn’t come to your aid. “See cherub… Daddy didn’t mean that.” He says, grabbing her shoulder gently.

“I did… Well, I’m sure someone at school might’ve said, or the news… Marriage is supposed to be a promise to love each other forever … and I broke that promise.” Jason takes a deep breath.

 “What I did hurt your mum. She hasn’t forgiven me. Maybe she won’t ever. She doesn’t have to.” He shakes his head. “I said what I said because I was upset, but… It’s not her fault. It’s mine.”

You offer him an awkward, tight smile. “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you baby girl. Just that … being married wasn’t the best option for us anymore.”

“...” Mary leans into her Dads side, her face solemn and thoughtful. You have to avert your gaze from the pair, lest you start crying - or worse - forgive him. 

“Do you still love mum?” she asks quietly, and Jason opens his mouth, hesitating for a second - which saves him from needing to answer the question. Only to make the situation a million times worse for you. Jason looks to the door. “Brett?” he asks, addressing you, but his gaze not leaving the door, with a look in his eyes that reminds you of darker days. “Brett.” You confirm, taking a deep breath as you move towards the door. “You packed M?”

“Yeah Mum,” she says, grabbing her backpack and shrugging it on, wrapping her arms around Jason’s waist in a goodbye hug. 

“See ya soon Dad?”

“...Yeah, baby. Really soon. Promise.” He says, ruffling her hair. 

You open the door, hoping to do this quickly, before things get even more uncomfortable. Charles Brett is a shorter man, with brown hair, brown eyes, forever slightly unkempt and a had perpetually tired look in his eyes from being a single father of three. But he has a kind smile, and you like him. He’s … a good man. He’s not Jason, but then again no one is. 

“Charles, Hi.” You say, leaning against the door to bar entrance. Normally you’d invite him in, have coffee or let the kids watch a episode of bluey while you chatted if the morning was running on schedule. 

He says your name, but catches your discomfort before he says anything more, and his gaze moves past you, looking for its source - and he finds it.

“Oh, Hello - Jason, yes? The ex husband?” He asks, pretending not to know who he was, as if he hadn’t seen the many magazines and heard the gossip surrounding his incredibly public, if staged, infidelity. As if Jason, in his need to convince Roman you meant nothing, hadn’t publicly called you a bitch. Jason doesn’t seem to remember that at this moment, and you watch as he puffs up his chest in rage. 

“Yeah. You have an issue with that?” he asks, moving to stand behind you.

“And if I do—-”

“Not. In. Front. Of. The. Kids.” You interject, before it can go too far. 

“Have a good day at school sweetie.” You say, kissing the crown of Mary’s head, giving Charles an apologetic smile, and all but slamming the door and turning to Jason. 

“He’s a good man.” You growl. Because he is. And because Mary needs a positive male influence, and Jason hasn’t been able to be that. And because you are a little worried that Jason is going to use his alter ego to run him off. 

“He’s sniffing around where he doesn’t belong.” Jason counters, stepping forward. You step back, and feel the door knob press against your spine. 

“He belongs here if I want him here.” You reply, refusing to be intimidated. “Yeah, well he doesn’t get to be my kids fucking dad! I’m her dad!” You cut your own angry response short “what? We’ve been on two dates. No one is becoming a dad to our daughter?!” “That’s not what she said” Jason says, folding his arms. “Mary got ‘married’ twice last week at recess and last I checked had two boyfriends and a girlfriend.” You roll your eyes. “She is not the leading expert in how adult relationships work.” Jason takes a deep breath. “So it’s not… serious?” You shrug. “It’s not … Look. We’re adults. We both have kids. We don’t have a lot of time for casual flings, and the kids get along so need to be protected. We are taking it seriously, but it’s early days.” He nods slightly, “I’m having bab’s look into him.” You close your eyes and exhale. “Jay…” “I won’t do anything unless I find something substantial.” he reluctantly promises. “But I don’t take chances when it comes to you.” You feel his presence loom closer despite your eyes being closed. You open them to see your ex husband’s hand lingering in the air a few centimetres from your shoulder, his eyes sad and longing as he stands before you. “Is he good to you?” He asks, the anger gone from his voice. “Can you… see a future with him?” “Why does it matter to you?” You ask. It’s mostly rhetorical. You know why, and really what you mean to ask without saying it in as many words… is if Jason feels he has any right to intervene if his search finds anything more serious than a questionable browser history.

“Why does it matter to you?” The words feel wrong against his very ears. His tenuous grasp on the cool facade he’d put up, which had almost begun to take a true effect, with those six words is utterly shattered. He feels his heart pounding, too fast, too hard, too angry. The pit changed him, in many ways. The anger had always been there. The pit had made it worse. He’d never once take it out on you. He’d sooner die. But it exists in him, clawing like a beast against the inside of his ribs. Why does it matter? Why does it FUCKING MATTER? It screams, it throws itself against his skin, it burns his eyes and boils in his blood. How can you not understand how deeply he loves you? How can you not understand that he’d destroy anything that wished you or Mary harm and delight in it? That if you hadn’t been in his life back then, he’d surely be on a very different path? How do you not understand? He turns away, tugging a hand through his hair, he cannot look at her in this moment, cannot meet those beautiful eyes, can’t bear to see the face he adores above all others contorted by anger. “It matters to me because I still fucking love you.” He says through gritted teeth, through the shame, the rage, and the hurt. “And because I know you know that,” He continues, stepping further back to pace the apartment - the home - that he had once shared with you. He hears her move across the hardwood towards him. Feels a hand on his arm. “Jason…” She says quietly, as if to soothe a wounded beast - and he wishes it didn’t work as well as it did. He wishes he didn’t feel like a frightened, pained, hissing beast. He pushes her away. Not aggressively - but a firm, nonverbal denial. “Roman fucked with our kid. I don’t regret what we did as a result. But love, he’s been in the ground for years. I know that it could happen again… But I don’t want to keep missing my kids' childhood because of that fear. If her safety costs us… then so be it. But I don’t accept that it will. I refuse. The only fucking reason I kept these-”

 He holds up the rings on the cord around his neck “Is to put yours back on your fucking finger one day.” He sits at the bench, his hands in his pockets so you can’t see his knuckles go white. So you can’t see his pain, or how bad what he is about to do scares him. “I don’t ever want to fight you. You know that, right?” He looks at you, and he hopes that whoever or whatever is out there he doesn’t sound as sad as he feels. He looks at her, his friend, his daughter's mother, his ex wife who he’d never truly seen as an ex anything, and he sees a woman who’s hurting as he is, but while he sees the solution to their pain as recovery of what was, she sees the solution as acceptance. She cannot help him. He cannot help her. But, together, perhaps, they can help their daughter. “I want you to know this isn’t just because of Brett. Though hearing Mary talk about a new dad did light a fire under my ass. I want custody. Shared, I mean.” He puts his head in his hands, elbows on the kitchen counter. “I’ll be asking for 50/50. Please.” He looks at her through his fingers. “We make a good team. Don’t make this be ugly.” She sighs, sad and tired and hurting. “I think we’re both a little too charged to talk about that right now. Can we have coffee in a few days?” He nods. “Yeah. Yeah that works for me. I uh… I’ll call Alfred to send a car round for me… and you can text me the details?”

A week later, you find yourself sitting in the back of a coffee shop, waiting for Jason to return with your drinks. You try not to dwell on the fact that despite not having asked, you knew he didn’t need to to know your order even after all this time.  You shuffle the papers of notes you’d had your lawyer look over. True, you trusted him. You thought he’d be a good father. You’d still stayed divorced for a reason. “I have concerns.” You say ternsly as he takes the seat across from you. He’s cleaned up. You can’t focus on that. You have a little girl who needs to come first right now - and you take a breath to remind yourself that she’s just as important to Jason. “Figures.” He says, but his tone is lighthearted. “Part of me just hates the idea of seeing her less.” You admit. He just nods, without judgement, without making the point that he knows what that’s like, simply letting you speak for the moment. “And it’s not because I like having her more than you, but because… I cried when she went on her first sleepover and she’s my baby.” You continue, picking at the napkin dispenser absentmindedly. “But beyond that there are logistical concerns as well. I know your … various residences…” safehouses. 

“Are safe. But moving as often as you do…” At least twice a week as a safety precaution.

“isn’t ideal for obvious reasons. Not to mention… She’s smart. She’s smart and she’s nosey.” Jason sips his coffee “her father’s daughter” “Nosey maybe. Smart? Debatable.” He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “I see your point though. We don’t want her to find out about the families… extracurricular activities.” You sip your drink. Sure enough, he’d remembered your order. Damn him and his perfect memory and his perfect face. “I’ve put some thought into it.” He reassures, and you nearly snort. Some thought? Knowing Jason, knowing his family? Several hours of thought had gone into any decision they deemed remotely important. You’d attended meetings, essentially war councils, while you were still married about the most minor aspects of their cover. “With my … schedule, 50/50 won’t be possible without her knowing everything, and she isn’t ready yet. But I want weekends, which I… we? Would spend at the manor. For stability.” “We?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. Jason gives you the same grin that had made you fall in love with him. Your stomach turns to a lepidopterarium. Damn him. “Well, last I checked Bruce said you were welcome at the manor whenever you wished… and if she was coming with you, it wouldn’t need to be a legal arrangement. Less of a paper trail is safer for Mary.” Jason says it matter of fact. Detached. Like he’s explaining a mission, not talking about his life, or his child’s. You know better than to fall for it. He runs a hand through his hair and winks at you. “Though if there needs to be a paper trail I’d prefer it be one leading to us again. I said some shit I shouldn’t have the other day. I apologise for that. You can keep seeing that Charles idiot - I was a prick about him, and his background check came back clean. But… I meant it. I fully intend to fight to get you back.” He stands to leave before you can process or argue. “So… See you Saturday morning?” he says not at all a genuine question, kissing your forehead and heading to the door, much like he might disappear after a one liner as Red Hood. You suspect it’s a strategy that works on cops or criminals - but is less impressive to his ex wife. All you can think to call after him is “SAYING THAT AND WALKING OFF ISN’T AS SLICK AS YOU THINK”

taglist @jasontoddproblems

@fic-over-cannon

@stormz369

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

hiii i just read "your melon bread" fic of denji and IT'S SO GOOD (i smashed the follow button immediately lol)

and i saw your asks are open so can i request a part 2 of it where the next day when denji, aki and power are patrolling the town and they walked pass a bakery and denji remembered what happened yesterday and forced aki to get inside and buy him melon bread but was greeted by the reader who's family owns the bakery (this is my first time requesting so sorry if it gets confusing and feel free to ignore this if u dont want to or if it makes u uncomfortable :3)

and can i be the 🦈 anon thankksss hope u have a good morning/evening/night ^_^

Denji Hayakawa - "Half Your Melon Bread" 2

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Hey 🦈Shark anon! Sorry for the absurdly long delay, but I've finally completed your ask. At first, I was just going to ignore it since “Half Your Melon Bread” was supposed to be a one-off thing, but the more I thought about it, the more I came to like it! —Benny🐰 Part 1

                                                                                                   

🍞•♡•🥐•♡•🥖•♡•🫓•♡•🥨•♡•🥯•♡•🥞•♡•🧇

Aki was… perplexed to say the least. The fiend(?) that he had been tasked to watch over hadn't so much as muttered Makima's name since yesterday; it was kind of unsettling. All the blonde idiot seemed to do was stare off into the distance and mutter something about bread.

While the topknot-styled man was a bit relieved that he wasn't being bothered by both of the idiots under his watch; he did grow a bit concerned. It seemed as though Power had as well, judging by the hard stare that she was drilling into the side of the Chainsaw Devil hybrid's head. The strawberry blonde hadn't uttered a word since they left the house; only staring at him in silence with a deep frown on her face.

Denji himself was deep in thought. That stranger… he never got their name; they left before he could ask. He did remember their face though, so he'll definitely thank them when he sees them again and maybe they'd let him touch their chest—

Bonk!

The dirty blonde walked right into a light pole while he was distracted by his thoughts. The boy groaned as he clutched his head in a futile attempt to soothe the pain and the ringing in his ears. As he looked at what he'd run into, he saw a soft yellow light in the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw that he, Aki, and Power were standing in front of a bakery.

A bakery… Baking… Bread is baked… Oh! Melon bread! He could get some of that here!

Quickly, Denji walks into the building, ignoring the annoyed protests of the senior devil hunter and cheers for food from the blood fiend. The smell of buttery freshly baked dough immediately permeated his nostrils as he walked through the door. It was a comforting but hunger-inducing smell that had likely not only him, but everyone else in the building heavily salivating.

“Welcome to Chubby Bunny Bakery; I can help you right over here, Sir.”  

A voice from behind the dirty blonde draws his attention from observing the bakery's interior and to the order station.

The devil man's eyes widen as he sees the figure standing behind the display case. It was the stranger from yesterday in the park! They were holding onto a sheet pan of cookies; sliding the display case glass backing to the side and putting the pan of cookies inside.

“It's you!”  

Denji exclaims as he, rather rudely, points at them; finger only inches from their face due to how close he already was.

The stranger stares at him for a bit before they chuckles and gently grab his wrist to pull his hand down. They grab a small menu card from a stack of them that sits next to the register and place it in front of him with a small smile.

“Yes, it's me, bread boy. Did you have anything in mind already? If not, you can look at our menu here to help you decide.”  

The stranger tells him, tapping the menu card between them twice.

“Oh! Uh– melon bread. Pl—”  

The devil man was interrupted by a firm grip on his shoulder flipping him around to face an incredibly annoyed aki. 

“And what money are you going to use to pay for it? Not mine.”  

The raven-haired man asked rhetorically as he glared at the younger boy.

While Aki was talking the stranger came back to the front with a beige wax paper bag in their hand and held it out to the dirty blonde. Denji gingerly took it in his hand, ignoring his superior's irate rantings, and pulled out the glazed treat. He took a hesitant bite and his cheeks flushed a soft pink as the sweet melon flavor washed over his tongue; ignoring the aching in a few of his poorly managed teeth.

The stranger smiled at him before turning to the top-knot-baring man with their hand out expectantly. Aki sighed as he realized that he would be paying for Denji's food after all. Shoving his hand into his back pocket; he takes out his wallet and reluctantly forks over the needed amount, though not before he throws a nasty glare the younger boy's way.

“So, uh, I never got your name. Or gave you mine, really. I'm Denji.”  

The dirty blonde shyly muttered between nibbles of his sweet treat.

The stranger chuckles at his timid demeanor, figuring that he was just feeling a little embarrassed by the fact that he had no money. They rest their chin in the palm of their hand as they look him up and down; thinking about how he kind of reminds them of a dog.

“Well, nice to meet you, Denji. I'm [Name].”  

They introduce themself lazily; taking his hand in theirs and giving it a firm shake.

Suddenly though, the baked treat was snatched from the dirty blonde's hand by a wild Power as she dashed to the door.

“Sharing is caring, henchman!”  

The blood fiend shouts as she is chased out of the door by both males.

[Name] stares at the door for a few seconds before letting out an amused chuckle. What a strange bunch, they thought with a smile.

🍞•♡•🥐•♡•🥖•♡•🫓•♡•🥨•♡•🥯•♡•🥞•♡•🧇

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Reblogs are appreciated ~ 𔓘

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[secretkittywolf]

Zexal shipping Incorrect Quotes

Yuma: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE Reginald: Anything, honestly, but idiots especially Yuma, desperately, as Reginald bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE! Reginald: Oh! B positive Yuma: DON'T TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE!!! Reginald:

Trey half asleep: Do you think you’d actually notice if someone didn’t cast a shadow? Or if their limbs were just slightly too long? Or if they had just a little too many teeth? Like how many times have you passed Something on the street and you just didn’t notice it? Yuma, also half asleep: Stay woke monsterfuckers your love is out there!!!!! Trey: Y'know what? Not my point at all in any way whatsoever, but I’m glad I could be an inspiration

Yuma: You often use humor to deflect trauma Vector: Thank you Yuma: I didn't say that was a good thing Vector: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny

Reginald: I made tea Kite: I don’t want tea Reginald: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea Kite: Then why are you telling me? Reginald: It is a conversation starter Kite: That’s a lousy conversation starter Reginald: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate

Quattro: I turned out perfectly fine! Dextra: Honey, this morning you thought a ghost made your toast Quattro: I DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN! YOU DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN!!!

Astral: How do I deal with my enemies? Reginald: Kill them Astral: That's a bit extreme, I was hoping for a more passive solution Reginald: Kill them only a little?

*Yuma and Shark sitting in jail together* Reginald: So who should we call? Yuma: I’d call Kite, but I feel safer in jail

Yuma: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl! Reginald: Okay Yuma: And make out during the scary parts Reginald: Th- Reginald: The scary parts? Reginald: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl?

Vector: Welcome, fellow idiots Yuma: Hello, Ray! Vector: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot Yuma: You underestimate me

Reginald: I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you Kite: 10 times 0 is still 0 though Reginald: Jokes on you, I can't do math

Dextra: I actually have a black belt Quattro: In what, karate? Dextra: No, from Gucci *shows off belt*

Reginald, pointing: May I sit there? Astral: That's my lap Reginald: That doesn't answer my question, Astral

Vector: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died- Yuma: Twelve people! Vector: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that? Yuma: Yours! Vector: That's right: no one's

Yuma: So that’s my plan Trey: Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don’t want to sound mean Yuma: No, go ahead, I want to hear it Trey: It fucking sucks Yuma: That’s not constructive criticism

[nonnieapple]

⛈ ☂️ Peach Pit, 5- Long Season Through☂️ ⛈

• (Akura-ou x g/n reader x Tomoe)   • r a t i n g: m a t u r e • 1 5 2 3 w o r d s  •  p o s t e d 21.01.2024    🌧  navigation 🍑 previous chapter 🍑 next chapter • s u m m a r y: you're a peaceful farmer in the mountains during the sengoku period. someone starts stealing your peaches, and the thief turns out to be a chaotic oni, and the events that ensue flip your life upside down. • c h a p t e r s u m m a r y: an opportunity presents itself in annoying hues. TW: fire mention, (a copious amount of) alcohol(ism) (being ingested). .

The sound of a shovel hurling through the air and hitting a mound of mud made the birds in a three-hundred and sixty-shaku radius take off flying in a petrified haze. 

  Your mood was a rotten peach decaying in the mud. The amount of negativity surrounding you could summon a miasma. 

  You sat on the grass, hanging your head low. Last week had been tough. You didn't feel the same after what happened in the town. He stopped it, but he was so close to not. If not for your tears, everyone would've... 

  You pressed your hands into your temples. You focused on your breathing. Even writing hadn't gone well today, your strokes were lax and the words wouldn't flow. Neither did cooking go well. You ended up eating a ridiculous amount of bread and pickled plums. 

  You wouldn't need to eat for another century. And when you tried reading, your eyes and mind wandered far from the page. 

  A shadow obscured the dim sun. 

  You looked up. 

  A bold red shadow against the blue sky stood above you. Great. The last person you wanted to see. 

  "What do you want, oni?" You asked with a small voice, cracking throughout. 

  "Come with me, crazy human." He reached out a claw to you. It was framed by black, chrome feathers.

  You took it, and he lifted you easily. A soft reminder of his power. His hand was hot. 

  "Cool." You stood, waiting patiently for him to do some magic. 

  He rose a brow.

  "You're not going to argue with me?" 

  You shook your head. 

  "Take me away from this wretched place. I'm done." 

  After a delay, he smirked, flashing his razor-sharp shark teeth. 

  Instead of fog, everything swirled with black wind, like a thick smog that prompted you to cough. 

  You stood in a worn down castle, once abandoned but now lived in again, taken by force, made evident by the damage and odd decor. It was incohesive, cobbled together, the most expensive treasures and baubles someone had stuffed in corners and stuck on walls. 

  Akura kept walking. You tapped your foot in place. 

  "Huh? Aren't you coming?" 

  "Nah. I've decided to stay and rot here 'til I die." You smiled. 

  "I decide who rots and when in this castle. Move," He ordered.

  You didn't budge as he softly pressed on your back. Your sandals shuffled. 

  "Tomoe has your dagger. He's here. You could, you know, get it back." His hair ghosted over your neck. 

  Your eyes lit up, and you felt determination coming back to you. 

  "Really?" You began walking, his hand still on your back. 

  "Really. But don't think it'll be easy." He laughed behind closed teeth. You felt a chill run up your spine as his claws brushed your skin. 

  The castle was far from empty. It was filled with servants and goons of Akura-ou. You assumed that's what they were. Or maybe they were Tomoe's? 

  Your destination had been a large room with a few floor-to-ceiling windows and various tables. At one with three chairs, in the middle chair, sat Tomoe. Portuguese chairs, carved intricately. Such luxury. 

  Next to him on the table were several flasks of sake, sake cups, brushes, and... ink... and paper. How peculiar. 

  A sparkle. Your dagger was lying in his lap. His tail swung quickly. 

  "You're back quick." 

  The door closed loudly. It shook the walls. The room smelled of incense- standing in the other corner of the room- and... alcohol. And pine, and a subtle cherry smell. So much was going on, and your brain had trouble processing it, including the unusual spirits on either side of you. 

  "I don't like dragging things out."

  You plopped down in one of the other chairs, Akura-ou in the one opposite of you. 

  You inspected the table, glancing up at Akura and Tomoe with owlish eyes. 

  "You get your dagger if you win," Akura said, nodding over to Tomoe. His ears perked up. 

  "You and Akura-ou will drink undiluted sake until you're as drunk as can be. Then, you both will attempt to write [the kanji for] "melancholy rose". The one who manages to do so- will keep the dagger," Explained Tomoe. 

  Your joy faded as quickly as it came. 

  "Drinking with a yokai?! That's damn impossible!" You tangled your hands in your hair. Tomoe smiled. 

  "We'll see." Tomoe glanced to Akura, and their eyes met, smiles matched in mischieviousness, one face demonic, and one ethereal. 

  You inhaled. 

  You smiled smugly. 

  "Fine. I take your deal." 

  The first drink was a puppy. 

  The tenth was a hellhound biting off your head. 

  Some time after that you had stopped counting. 

  You groaned, hot face held in your shaky hands. The alcohol burned in your stomach all the way back up your throat. Your mouth had started to numb. You could see well enough, but your body was loose, and each movement seemed so much more broad and intense. You laid your head on the table. You kept feeling the fabric of your clothing with your fingertips. 

  Akura had a lightly flushed face and kept needlessly fixing his hair. You had an... uncontrollable urge to go for a run. And to knit. You never knitted. Or went for runs. 

  "How drunk are you?" Asked Tomoe, watching you with disinterest. Akura-ou flipped his hair, and it hung from his horns. He attempted to fix it, only managing to tangle another piece of hair on his golden disc earrings. He growled. 

  You tried to lift yourself. Your body was heavy. You huffed, clinging to your chair. 

  You gasped. 

  "Drunk... enough..." You sighed, folding over. Your hair obscured your vision. Akura-ou's eyes were glassy and squinting at a corner in the room. 

  You stared at him through your hair. 

  "How are you drunk? When you drank at the festival... you downed what seemed like bottle after bottle with no issue-" You forced out between breaths and nonsensical hums. 

  "I drank only.... a glass.... or two. The rest was... juice." He tried to lean back, almost falling and catching himself by gripping the table. 

  A screen was placed between you two. His horns still peeked out from behind. 

  You were given a brush, ink, and a piece of paper. You inhaled, trying to focus and pull yourself together. You only made yourself dizzier. 

  The melancholy rose kanji... the shapes were vaguely in your mind. One was like a chicken coup with a skewer on top. The other was like a wise old man squinting... or something like that. 

  You were thankful you had eaten a lot that day, as it seemed you were faster to sober up. Akura... by his shadow, it seemed like he wasn't writing at all, only swaying back and forth like a maple sapling in the wind. 

  You made your best guess with the parts of the kanji you remembered. You cringed. And empty page- a writer's worst nightmare. Shapes swirled before you and your world spun as you felt nausea rise in your throat. Your body felt weightless and you felt yourself floating away into a reverie. 

  You closed your eyes. A while ago you wrote something with those exact words. You audibly hummed as you thought and your face scrunched in frustration. You wished you could shove your hand into the deepest parts of your brain and retrieve the memory and slap it on the page. You bit your lip. 

  You opened your eyes. The page stared back expectantly. 

  "Don't look at me like that." 

  It didn't reply. You huffed, tapping your brush. 

  Your hand trembled as you dipped the brush into the ink, and set it down on the paper. If you never tried, you'd never win. And you couldn't miss the opportunity. So you steeled your nerves and wrote like you weren't drunk and being scrutinized by sly purple eyes. 

  You placed the final stroke, checking the writing. It was as close as you were going to get. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as sobriety came creeping up to you. 

  The screen was removed. 

  Akura was in the middle of falling asleep over what was... well, it could've been an abstract painting, it could've been an ink spill, it could've been a hallucination; it was many things- but it wasn't "melancholy rose". 

  You looked down at your paper. You hadn't fared too badly. 

  Tomoe's eyes widened. He banged on the table. 

  "Akura! That's abhorrent!" He pointed a grey claw at the paper. Akura ou hummed incomprehensibly in response. Tomoe stared at him with disappointment. They switched places. Akura was shoved out of his chair and into Tomoe's. He didn't seem to mind. He was in a place far away now. Rest in piss. 

  Tomoe sat down. He placed the dagger on the table. Your hand reached towards it. He spawned fire in his hand. You slapped it away. The fire faded. Tomoe looked surprised. 

  "I... HATE... fire," You mumbled angrily. You glared at him. 

  He tapped the table. 

  "I request a rematch, with me." 

  Tomoe poured another cup of sake. 

  Things were never as simple as you wanted them to be, huh? 

[tunastime]

HOW ABOUT.... 77 >:3

oh shepherd. ohhh shepherd. 77 is shark week and its really a shame that shark week is so low considering that everything everything was my top artist of 2023, narrowly beating glass animals and usurping their 5 year streak. so um this is about ben and tom to me smiles

(668 words)

It’s a busy night.

That bodes well for Tom, who makes his way through the halls of the lab, following stripes of color through the bright white light. He makes his way through groups of testificates, blocking out questions and chatter, putting his mind away from whatever they could be working on. He wasn’t focused on that, tonight. He wouldn’t be asked about his trip. Not that he would be in the first place—that’s what he got for being good at his job. Nobody asked questions. Well. Xephos asked questions. But his questions were always to the point, and they were always a wrap around to the answer he was expecting, so as long as Tom was on his toes, he could answer them without saying anything at all. 

Nevertheless of all of that, he slips his way through the halls of the lab, and through a few access doors, and to a room, where he stands for a moment, fishing for his keycard. When he swipes, the door slides open, letting in a bar of light. He steps in quickly, light disappearing for a short moment, until the lamp beside the bed clicks on.

In white-yellow light, Ben looks awful.

It’s not that he normally looks good, either, which is unfortunate, but he looks exhausted. The lines of his face grow darker in the low light, especially as he blinks awake, scrubbing at his eyes. Tom feels a sharp pang through his chest as he realizes he’s woken him, but the relief etched across Ben’s face as he locks eyes with him diffuses the guilt almost instantly.

“Hi, Ben,” Tom says, a smile worming onto his face.

“Tom,” Ben sighs, leaning back on his hands. His shoulders seem to relax almost immediately as he settles, as Tom steps more into the room. He sets his coat and clipboard on the nightstand, ruffling through the pockets as he does. He holds out a bundle of napkins for Ben. Ben cups his hands, holding the bundle for a moment before Tom gestures for him to open it. 

“What is it?” Ben asks, tilting his head. The corners of his mouth lift up just so as he looks up at Tom. Tom’s still grinning, eyes squinted behind his glasses. He gestures again.

“It's for you,” Tom says. Ben snorts, rolling his eyes as he unfurls the napkins in his palm. Inside, Tom’s saved bread and cheese, crushed together from being shoved into his coat pocket, but largely still edible, and no small portion either. Ben’s face lights up, eyes flicking from the food in his hands and Tom’s face.

“You’re serious?” Ben asks. Tom nods, folding his arms as he comes to sit on the end of the bed, giving Ben enough space to stretch out his legs. Ben tears into the bread, almost famished, sighing as he chews. He smiles at Tom through his food, as if he’s holding back a laugh, and that alone sets a warm thing turning in Tom’s chest.

“Thank you,” Ben hums, swallowing with some difficulty. He reaches for the glass of water at the bedside, taking a small sip. Tom kicks himself—next time. Next time, tomorrow, or the day after, or two days from now, he’ll bring a whole canteen of water. He’ll sneak him away. He’ll make sure he actually gets clean, that he gets rest, a warm meal. Anything he can sneak to him. Anything that the testificates, that Xephos won’t miss.

Until then, Ben eats, savoring the food like he’ll never get a chance to eat again. Even in the white light, his face regains a bit more color, warm in the high of his cheeks. Tom laughs a bit under his breath, the motion shaking his shoulders. 

“Of course, Ben,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. “What else am I good for?”

Ben laughs, a solid sound from his chest, and Tom laughs with him. He’s not sure when he decides it, but he knows now, more than ever, that he’s leaving. And he won’t be leaving without Ben beside him.

(spotify wrapped ask meme)

[flowitch]

okay i actually do have so many thoughts about dynamite

kyle hesitantly leaving will to follow don was so good and so sad

britt & mercedes is the natural choice for a wembley match, i just hope that britt learned how to wrestle while she was away so mercedes doesn't have to carry her like stat did

I'm glad britt's okay, that shit sounds so awful and scary. her & adam can't catch a break with head injuries

there's an alternate universe out there where britt is a heel and joins the evps and goes by her god given name brittany

hangman's new theme (as far as i can tell from the one time we've heard it) is great and fits him perfectly. the dim yellow lighting is also so perfect for his presentation. i saw someone on twitter say that they should pay for hurt by johnny cash to be his theme for PPVs and i think that'd be so awesome

thank god the cowboy is home. there was a distinct lack of cowboy these past few months

using jeff jarrett's real life investment & babyfaceism in the owen as a way to get hanger more heel heat was fantastic

the crowd doing the swerve's house chants to hanger was so fucked up when you remember they're chanting for the dude that broke into hanger's house and his child's bedroom LMAO that shit was so crazy. he has every right to go batshit after being made the bad guy. babyface swerve & heel hanger ended up being inspired booking

hangmatt i missed you so dearly. the angst is wonderful but i was sad for a moment missing the elite being all together. so much has happened in the past year!

i need kris statlander in ways I'm not allowed to say publicly

stat vs willow was great per usual. honestly if they wanted to run that again at wembley maybe with a stip that'd be awesome

bryan vs pac was great as expected. i did some looking and the only times they've fought 1-on-1 was once in 2007 for roh and once in 2009 for a UK indie promotion

will vs danny was great. usually my dad and i joke that certain people in matches have a -3% chance of winning when we can guess the booking but in this instance i upped danny to a 40%. i feel like he honestly had a shot based on the storyline they're doing with will. even though he didn't win im glad he has a feud now instead of just squashes or run-ins to help other people

it was def time to turn mjf fully heel again. i think his babyface run was great especially during the btybb era but being a heel is his bread and butter so it was def time.

we should all start assuming someone's about to die when they're wearing white. that's how u know the blood is coming

one minute danny is thrusting in will's face and the next he's dead, daddy magic has his eyes ripped out, and mjf is throwing trash at fans while they attempt to fist fight him

I'm so so so excited that the build to all in has started. they have so much time for it i think it's gonna be amazing

mark briscoe declaring for blood & guts made me very happy. he's gonna do some crazy shit. i really wish the acclaimed weren't in it because i cannot stand max caster but sadly that's probably happening. i keep thinking maybe swerve will declare since they hinted it & that's what'll help the bucks convince hanger to join their team. I'm all for them being in forced close proximity and angst happening. god bless

there was a chompy-shaped hole in the heart of this year's shark week episode. i liked him terrorizing commentary last year. speaking of commentary, taz being kicked off commentary should be considered a crime

i think that's all for now

[saywhatjessie]

Temper Your Chocolate You Twat

Day fourteen of the Advent calendar! Using this list. Day 14: Hot Chocolate Fandom: Ted Lasso - Pairing: RoyJamie & TedTrent .6k[Ao3]

“Coach, you should definitely be on this,” Jamie called from the couch, his eyes not leaving the screen. “You ever made a torte?”

“I don’t even know what that is, Jamie,” Ted called from the kitchen. 

Trent hummed from his seat next to Jamie. “We could probably talk to Rebecca and Keeley about a special celebrity spot on Bake Off. Get the team in on it.”

“Ooh, yeah.” Jamie grinned. “Would be dead silly. I don’t think half the team even knows how to turn on an oven.”

Ted and Trent were back at Roy's place as Ted continued with baking lessons for Roy. They’d made all the biscuits they needed to for Roy’s family biscuit exchange but Phoebe apparently still needed biscuits for her class for Christmas.

“Even though we don’t fucking celebrate,” Roy grunted. But he didn’t want Phoebe to be left out.

Jamie and Trent had gotten bored of heckling so they’d moved to the living room and turned on the latest season of Bake Off. Trent won’t stop making fun of how like Jamie one of the contestants was.

“He’s even got the tattoos all up his arm,” Trent teased as they watched the lad make the West Ham logo out of bread.

Jamie snorted. “Other arm though, mate. And I’d never support West Ham.”

Trent just hummed. a small smug smile on his face like he was just humoring Jamie. Jamie scowled, crossing his arms and turning back to the show.

He was actually having fun watching this with Trent. Neither of them knew enough about baking to really understand what was being asked of the bakers, but they were both big enough twats to judge their style and execution. Neither of them cared how Saku’s bread peacock tasted: they just knew it was dead beautiful.

They were happy for the pretty deaf girl. though, for winning top baker of the week. Jamie can admit he manfully teared up when Paul Hollywood told her she really understands bread, even though she can’t hear when a loaf has been cooked long enough.

Roy plopped down on the couch next to Jamie just as the next episode was starting. Jamie smiled, pulling his legs up so he could curl into Roy’s side. “All done in the kitchen, babe?”

Roy grunted. “Gotta get up in twelve minutes to rotate batches. But done enough for now.”

“Look at you bein’ a sexy little housewife. Don’t know why you won’t wear the apron I bought you.”

“It wasn’t just an apron, it was a whole maid costume, you prick.”

“Oh hey, I’ve got one of them!” Ted said, plopping down next to Trent. “Though I worry I don’t have the breasts to fill it out.”

Trent patted him consolingly on the thigh. “Your tits are phenomenal, dear.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Ted said, grinning, before leaning in to kiss him.

“See, Royo!” Jamie said, gesturing at Ted and Tent. “They’re even more ancient than you and they get it!”

Trent hummed, skeptically. “I don’t know, Jamie. Not sure Roy could pull it off. Ted definitely had better tits.”

Roy’s eyebrows were doing something crazy, like he knew he should be offended but he wasn’t sure why or how. “Fuck off.”

Jamie looked at him, regretfully. “Only one way to settle this, Roy.”

“I’m not going to put on the maid outfit, can we just watch some fucking Bake Off?”

Jamie pouted but Roy put his arm around his shoulders so it wasn’t too bad.

The episode was chocolate week which filled both Trent and Roy with visible glee.

“Tell me it’s the hottest day of the year,” Trent said.

“Always,” Roy confirmed, his grin like a shark.

It wasn’t very long into the signature bake that Ted piped in with. “You know, Jamie, that young man kind of reminds me of you.”

“HIS TATTOO’S ON THE OTHER ARM!” Jamie shouted. Trent cackled.

The lad won chocolate week.

[solaneceae]

grief

a team bolas oneshot (read on ao3) written before green team was split between red and blue, so in this they all died. angst with a side of family comfort. tw: blood and gore, temporary character death, self-inflicted burns

Pac wakes with a deep ache inside his chest and at the back of his mind — like a fresh, open wound that’s still bleeding. He reaches out, for the comforting hum of his soulmate’s sleeping mind on the other side, and finds nothing.

He doesn’t understand. But he also does. He’s surprised he’s not immediately breaking down screaming, but maybe he’s been broken for a long time and just didn’t notice until now.

He finds Pierre and Bad, busying themselves at the anvils. And he asks.

(Nothing, he has nothing, Richas missing, Cellbit insane and on the hunt for him, Forever dead, Mike dead, Bagi dead, Felps still MIA.

Fit.

Fit’s gone. Fit has died hating him.)

“I see,” he says, numb and empty.

And he draws out his sword.

When Red Team wakes the next morning, some of them are still holding onto hope. Hope that it was all a lie, hope that Green would merely be dissolved, its members assigned to the two remaining teams.

Hope is a cruel, fickle thing. And it dwindles fast in the minds of team Bolas as the hours start to trickle by, with no sign of any green-tinted name popping up on the global chat. Even faster when Carré comes back from recon, reporting the disappearance of Green’s spawn barrier as well as their mission NPCs.

The silence within their cave is deafening, only broken by the sound of a hammer hitting red-hot metal over the anvil. Some of them just check their comms obsessively, fraying minds tethering between denial and a complete breakdown. 

Cellbit hasn’t moved an inch since he woke up, sitting up at the center of their shared nest with absolutely nothing in his icy, blue slitted eyes as they stare at his commlink. At the last messages he’d sent to Roier, still unanswered. (His husband is gone. His sister is gone. His best friend, his President is gone. He has nothing left, and his tongue tastes like unspilled blood.)

Phil is looming over a crafting table, mindlessly placing and removing materials with no rhyme or reason. (Étoiles is gone, his best friend and brother in arms, his devil-may-care attitude, his humor, his fearless smile. Fit’s gone, his shameless flirting and unwavering determination. Forever. Forever. Kristin is eerily silent.)

Jaiden sits in a faraway corner, sharpening her sword until the edge can slice the very empty space between atoms. (Roier taught her. He taught her so much. She would make him proud.)

Charlie is off near the ovens, baking bread after bread after bread in a compulsive act of self-soothing that doesn’t quite work. (He thinks of his bitch wife, and hopes he’ll be smart enough to stay asleep today.)

Baghera’s shaking, huddled close to her fellow avian and mentor as she watches him work without really processing it, the crow’s hand occasionally tapper on her arm to keep her from ripping her feathers off. (She thinks of her brother. Her stubborn, annoying baby brother and his cursed bleeding heart. His hair had been cut so short, she’d been wanting to take a moment to even it, maybe style it a little even. She thinks of Pierre, and feels hatred. She thinks of Badboy, and feels betrayal.)

Foolish straightens up, rolls his shoulder as he admires his handiwork. (He thinks of his adopted son, and remembers why Bad always told him not to get attached to mortals. But Foolish never listens, and never will, despite how much it hurts every single time.) “It’s ready,” he drones out, catching the attention of everyone present. Phil turns to him, expression set in stone and unreadable. “Let me see.”

Team Bolas congregates around their leader, slightly bowed in something like reverence as he walks past them towards the shark-totem. Foolish grins, mirthless and cold, as he hands him a metal stick. The head of it is adorned with a strange shape, still reddish from heat. “Good job,” the Angel of Death nods, eyes and hands stained black as a few stray plants and roots wither away under his feet. His flock shivers like a single entity, all of them fastening their masks over weary, tear-streaked faces. Foolish whistles, spinning the branding iron like a majorette would their stick. “Thanks, Crowfather sir! Wanna do the honours?” Foolish chirps.

Philza Minecraft nods, silently letting his robe fall off his shoulders, exposing his naked back. “Let’s do it quick,” he says, looking over each of his fledgelings, who bow their heads in unwavering loyalty. “Today, we don’t let them rest. Not for a second. Doesn’t matter how many times they kill us, we swarm them, again and again. We, teach them pain.” He feels the heat of the furnace on his back as he sits before it, Foolish humming a cheery tune as he pokes at the blazing inferno inside. “Baghera, how many chainsaws did you make?”

The duck tilts her head. He can see her red-tinted eyes through the mask, and they crinkle in vindictive joy. “More than enough,” she coos, and Jaiden bumps her mask against hers, hello, clean, flock, hello. Phil croons out a yesyes. “Good. Very good.” He beckons her over, runs his claws through her hair-feathers lovingly. “You’ve become stronger. I’m proud of you. All of you.”

“Thanks Dad,” the duck hybrid whispers, preening under the praise. “Get ready,” Foolish warns. Phil doesn’t wince, doesn’t brace himself. Doesn’t care. “Jaiden,” he says, and the conure chirps in acknowledgment. “Taunt them. Trick them. Use every dirty tactic you can think of, I don’t care, this is no longer a fight. It’s retribution. Carré,” he turns to the warrior in the cat onesie, “I trust you. Put the fear of you in their hearts.” Carré gives a salute, sword gleaming in the dim light of their den. “Charlie, Foolish, literally go apeshit. Now’s the time.” Foolish laughs, eager, and Charlie’s codified parts glitch in anticipation. “Cellbit.” and the detective perks up. Phil flashes him a cruel smile. “Do what you do best,” he declares, and the Brazilian looks like Christmas came early.

Then red-hot iron slams against the skin of his back, and Phil lets out a gasp as his flesh starts to sizzle and burn. His talons dig deep into his own thighs in an attempt to distract himself from the pain, and the air smells like cooking meat. Cellbit starts howling first, the last of his sanity breaking when the smell hits his nostrils even through the mask, pupils dilating — like a shark smelling blood. The rest of them soon join in, screeching and laughing, too loud, too high-pitched and broken. Then Foolish removes the iron, and Philza almost falls over under the mixture of pain and relief. The rest of the flock rush over to support him, glancing at the result of Foolish’s hard work with barely disguised awe.

Angry red lines, bloody and bubbling, form the simplified shape of a gas mask right between the mangled remains of his ebony wings. A symbol of loyalty, devotion, belonging. (Pack, flock, family, murder.) “How’s it look?” the crow wheezing out, somehow still mustering the strength to make a joke out of his own agony. Jaiden flashes him a thumbs up. “Nice.”

“I want to go next,” Baghera pipes up, wings twitching with anticipation. Foolish nods, letting the others help Philza wobble away to let him recover for a minute. “Alright. Get over here then, sister.”

(There is no coming back after this, they all know that. Those marks would be here to stay, because self-inflicted scars don’t get erased by respawn, as some of them had found out over time. They all count on it.)

***

The trip is like a blur, partly because of the pain making their vision go hazy and, partly because the sky is red red red and it makes their minds fuzzy and time all wibbly-wobbly.

Charlie remembers hot desert sun hitting his shoulders and colouring them an angry red, Carré taking off his hood to breathe properly. He remembers Foolish carrying them through a freezing river, ice-cold water a temporary balm against the fresh burns in the center of his chest. (He doesn’t regret it. The pain is worth it. And the code infection is so cold, cold cold, the blazing heat radiating from the brand mark is almost soothing in comparison.) He remembers Baghera, limping the whole way, yet refusing any help. Pushing herself further than she ever has to keep up with them. Refusing to be a burden, refusing to drag them down. “I’m fine,” she would say, brushing her feathers over the mark on her right hip. “I’m fine.”

The sky is red, everything is. The blood-fog rolls in, or maybe it’s the toxic gas disaster. They can’t tell, with the masks that keep them breathing and tinted lenses painting the landscape crimson. They press on, helping each other whenever one falls, because their armors might be shit still despite yesterday’s grind, and they might have nothing. But they have each other.

When they finally find Blue, it doesn’t quite feel like catharsis. Not yet. All seven of them loom over their location - Pierre, Bad, Tubbo. (A shame. A shame he was here. He’d tried, they all knew that. But it hadn’t been enough.) They can’t see Pac anywhere, but given the few death messages that popped into global chat earlier, Phil can take a guess at what happened. (Note to self: extend an invitation to the Brazilian later.) No words are exchanged (quiet, quiet, don’t get spotted), only quick glances and flexing talons and flashes of teeth hidden beneath rubber masks. The sun hits their backs (it hurts, for Phil and Cellbit, who has chosen to place his own brand in the small of his back. He’s forsaken armor for this, he wants to feel every slash and tear, he wants to feel something, anything), their shadow-cast silhouettes stark against the red skies.

(They are pack, scavengers. They are eager to sink their teeth into writhing flesh and sharpen their claws on picked-clean bones.)

Philza raises an arm when Bad spots them, immediately barking out orders at Pierre and Tubbo, who doesn’t look like much of a leader at the moment. (What a shame. He deserved better.) The flock tenses, talons and claws digging into loose dirt, eerie growling and giggling and Charlie’s eager ‘how about now? can we go, please, dad?’

The Angel of Death looks down as his children. He lets his arm fall, and six shadows take off and rush downhill in a cacophony of barks and howls and cackling, hyena-like laughter.

Cellbit can see nothing at all, blinded by burning demon blood in his eyes, in his mouth, in his hair and beard. His knife digs into something soft and warm, someone screams, doesn’t know who. Something trips him and his head hits the ground, stunning him, and a sword stabs him in the shoulder and he laughs, ripping it out to roll away, uncaring of the copious amount of blood he’s losing. He hears the revving of an engine nearby, and wipes the blue liquid out of his eyes just in time to see Baghera slice at Pierre with her chainsaw, severing bone and tendons from his left shoulder to his right hip. Blood and viscera fall out of the gaping wound as he chokes, impossibly blue eyes widening, and then his body falls and the chime of death-respawn rings out over the battlefield. One. 

“First kill!” Carré woops, blocking strike after strike from a hissing Bad. “My turn now,” he grins, feral and they all know he’s the only human here how could a human feel so much like them, and his legs do a thing none of them can comprehend but he’s behind the demon now, thrusting his blade forward and into a groove in the fiend’s diamond armor. Chime. Bad falls, dead before his body hits the ground. Two. The Argentinian Beast swipes to the side, ridding his blade of sickly blue liquid. His sleeve creeps back up his arm, revealing the bottom of their symbol. “Mejórate, noob.”

“Oh SHIT!” Jaiden cackles, busy carving out the inside of Tubbo’s ribcage like a halloween pumpkin. “Carré’s out for blood, we love to see it.”

“Where’s Pac?” Cellbit grumbles, teeth around someone’s liver. Foolish rushed back from respawn, waving at them cheerfully, and bodies an incoming Pierre to the ground to bash his head against a rock until his skull gives and splits in half like a watermelon. “Uuuuh, dunno! Why, wanna eat his other leg?”

“Maybe.”

“Be nice,” Baghera pouts, beak splattered in red as she discards her broken saw, only to summon a fresh one from her inventory. She looks down at it with motherly fondness. “He did kill Bad earlier. And he lost Mike, and my brother. I say we leave him be.”

“Mmmh. Careful, here comes BitchBoy.”

“Oh, hello,” the duck chirps, evading a strike from Bad’s scythe. “Did you miss me, Bébou?” she giggles, thrusting her saw forward and cutting through the demon’s armor like it’s butter. Bad lets out a frustrated what the FUDGE before the blades pierce through the enchantments and through his belly. Chime. “I don’t know if I missed you,” she hums, throws her machine away, summons a new one. “I’m still thinking about it.”

Jaiden howls at her, Foolish barks, and all of them devolve into throat-tearing screams as their clothes soak up all the red, red above, red below, red, red. Philza climbs up a tower and swoops in, deadly precise, skewers another Tubbo that just showed up. “You should really give it a rest, mate,” he hums without an ounce of aggressivity, sitting on the lad’s chest as he wheezes out his last breath. “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be.”

“Can’t—” the goat hybrid chokes, bloody foam bubbling out of his mouth as his lungs fill up with fluid. “I’m. Tina. Nikki, Missa.” The name makes Phil blink. “Can’t… abandon them.”

“Suit yourself,” the Crowfather shrugs, then plants his blade into his former protégé’s neck with nary a sound. Chime.

Chime. 

Chime. 

Chime. 

They don’t always win, far from it. Chime . But they don’t care, losing themselves in the cycle of fight-kill-die-respawn-run-fight. Chime. Even when their resources run out, when they have nothing left but their own hands to fight with, they still come, again and again, moved by the collective desire to make them pay. They get less and less kills, armors and weapons gone, their own bodies piling up in a grotesque display. Chime. Chime. Chime. Blue Team tries to run and hide, but Jaiden and Foolish sniff them out like a pair of bloodhounds, always on their tail as the rest of the flock follows. The hours trickle, too slow yet too fast, and Blue is now winning because they kill them a lot more often than Red kills them, but they don’t give a single shit about that stupid bar made up but a stupid eyeball thing that they are done entertaining because THEIR FUCKING FRIENDS AND FAMILY ARE DEAD.

They rip, and tear, and bite when nothing else works anymore. Everything hurts, repeated respaws and the brand mark making their bodies stumble and fall and shake and seize against the cold dirt, making them easy targets. But they keep fighting.

Cellbit starts crying at some point, tears washing off the blood in twin lines on both his cheeks, and he repeats his husband’s nickname like some fucked up mantra as he stabs into Pierre’s chest over and over again, the engineer long dead. Yet he still keeps going, until Phil gently tears him away from the body to press his own bloody forehead against the Brazilian’s, letting him cling to his robes like the crow’s his last anchor to the mortal plane. Foolish and Jaiden come back, huffing, saying they’ve lost track of their target, and everyone stands still for a moment.

Phil’s commlink buzzes. He glances at it, spots something blue, turns it off. No more parlé, no more talks. “I think they’re done for today,” he sighs, helping Cellbit to his feet. “Let’s go back.”

“To the den?” Charlie asks, ripping off his mask to shake off stray pieces of viscera before putting it back on. His entire body is soaked in red, but Phil can spot some green beneath it. His code arm glitching erratically, but he barely seems to feel it. 

Philza nods. “To the nest.”

“Can we burn?” Baghera asks. Her voice is shot, just like after an intense session of karaoke. “I don’t wanna walk back. I wanna burn.”

“Me too,” Jaiden raises her hand, Charlie following suit. “Oooh, we should all do it,” the conure gasps, already piling up dead wood and whipping out her flint and steel. “It’s like a warpstone! But crispier.”

Maybe Phil should discourage that. But his bad knee hurts like a motherfucker, and what’s a little more agony after today. “Sure, fuck it.”

The pier lights up their surroundings as they dance their way into the flames, hot coal burning the soles of their feet. They briefly wonder if this is what witches did back in the day, before their last hearts are drained and they fall into the space-between-spaces, respawn mechanic spitting them out the other side and into the damp coolness of their cave-home-nest-den.

Their wounds are gone, as always. But not the brand, still pulsing with dull pain on each of their bodies. They all put ice on it, mechanically, minds already far away as their timer nears its end for the day.

None of them bother to clean up before it hits zero. The pack huddles into the nest together, blood-sticky and shaky and Cellbit is still sobbing, Jaiden’s arms around him while she croons and chirps, avian words eaten up by her own hiccuping sobs ( help, sad, sad, flock) , Charlie rubbing soothing circles into the cat hybrid’s back as he wails. Carré whispers praise and fighting tips to Baghera’s who’s only half-listening, wrapping up Dad’s sprained wing in a makeshift splint. Foolish sits close, humming absentmindedly as he finger-combs the knots and bits of flesh out of Jaiden’s long hair. “...You guys wanna move to Eggxile with me?” Charlie asks, drowsy and sluggish, Baghera’s hand-wing in his code-infected one. “When we go back. You can- you can take care of Flippa with me, if… you know. If this shit doesn’t work out.”

Jaiden laughs, wet and unstable. “I’d love that actually.”

“Your house has fumes in it,” Cellbit adds, so quiet it’s hard to make out. “I like that. It’s homey.”

“We can keep the masks there, it’s perfect,” Baghera approves, and Phil finds himself considering it because Charlie’s ramshackle house might be turning into code shit, but at least it’s far away, safe, away, away, and he doesn’t know if he can trust anyone outside his flock after this. Not stay on the wall, where everyone and their dog can show up unannounced. “Maybe,” he says.

Then their comms buzz, darkness claiming them quick.

[b0mblover]

Sharks and White Bread HinsaoJiro

By: J

No tws unless you count white bread ig.

1,500~ words

Uh. How do you write a character that literally doesnt even have a canon design? make it ooc of course!

i can’t believe i hate hinsaori so much it looped back to loving him. oh god. what next theyll go to therapy?

Tsuruhiko Multi Grain?

this is essentially crack taken somewhat seriously.

im so sorry for writing this

Hinsaori came out of his room and was searching through the kitchen cabinets. Bread. White. Fucking. Bread. It's all he's wanted for a while. All day. Everyday. Every meal. White fucking bread. But of course. It wasn't healthy to only have bread for every meal, and even if he didn't care for his own nutrition, Kouga wouldn't let him. He's always so sweet to everyone, how did Ota get so lucky.

But, this was his first two slices of the day, and Kouga wasn't home to kick his ass, so he could eat his two slices of plain white bread in peace.

He sat on the couch, rubbing his hands deviously one may say, planning to absolutely devour this 'meal'.

So that he did. Absolutely devouring that bread- less violent devouring, but the taste was so good to him he might as well be. 

On his second piece, Nito had come out of his room, he was still here? Ota had thought Jiro had left with the others to do gods-knows-what, apparently not though.

Jiro essentially threw himself onto the couch cushion, absolutely bodying it, with a sigh. 

Jiro was. Hard to read. To say the least, his expressions either were the opposite of what he feels, or exactly what he feels. It's just figuring out which is when that's the hard part.

Hinsaori put down the bread slice in his hand before speaking

"Uh.. Y'okay?" (BEHOLD. MY AMERICANISM. *EVIL LAUGHS CHOKES AND DIES*) 

Jiro looked over to the long haired man, looking him up and down 

"Yeah, just.. Thinking" he said in a monotone voice. 

Why did he look at Ota like that? Did he do something wrong? Was it because of the bread?

"Wellllll you wanna say 'bout what?" he asked before slightly cocking his head.

Jiro sighed and paused, considering how to word his statement.

"Well.. You know the thing about 'if I can't swim, and sharks can't walk, it'd come down to who's the better cycler'? Like, how would the shark stay on the bicycle? Wouldn't it fall off and be disqualified?"

That...What The fuck is Nito on right now. 

Hinsaori just stared at Jiro for a while, "wouldn't it be disqualified" does- does Nito know that sharks can't breath out of water-.

"J-Jiro. You uh, feeling okay bud?" he asked putting his hand on Jiros’ shoulder, seriously has he even slept? 

"Yeah, just wondering y'know?" Jiro responded before looking at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing there was.

"Have you slept?" Hinsaori was starting to seriously worry for the others health, sure Jiro could be impulsive, and destructive, and an absolute dumbass, but this? This was new.

"Hm? Yeah? Why are you asking aren't *you* the insomniac?" He had a point, but where did that question even come from? Sure the guy wasn't serious all the time, but that expression..

"oh god I can't do this- Jiro. Where the fuck did that question come from." 

and in return, all he got was a blank stare and a shrug.

Jiro stood up and walked into the kitchen, Hinsaori could hear him putting a kettle on

"Tea?" he asked 

"No I want to drink boiling water"

"What." 

"You heard me birdman. Just eat your soggy bread."

What the actual fuck. 

Hinsaori sighed, setting the bread slice he'd been clenching for the past 5? Minutes now, on the table and walked into the kitchen as well.

He pulled out a knife from the knife box (wtf are those called) 

"Who are you and what have you done with Nito!" he pointed the knife (somewhat playfully) at the assumed double

The Dumbass number 2 reached around him, pulling another knife out of the knife box, handing it to Hinsaori

"the one you have is dull" stating blankety before turning back to the kettle

"also would you like some tea or coffee?" he asked unmoving

"I- sure?" he lowered the knife, even if this somehow really wasn't Jiro, whoever this was clearly wasn't okay.

Jiro moved to the cup cabinet, 2 down from the stove, and pulled out two mugs, one plain black, another white with some black and red writing.

Jiro opened the little tea pouch thing (idk what it's called, tea foreskin ig) and put it in the black mug, before putting copious amounts of sugar into it as well...maybe This was Jiro?

"Tea or coffee" he asked

"Uh- coffee is fine" he replied, even if this was Jiro, would he know how to make his coffee?

Jiro put one 1 teaspoon of coffee grounds in the white mug, then two of sugar, damn, does Jiro really pay that much attention to everything? Sure it's not overly complicated, but he didn't even ask and Jiro isn't one for assuming.. 

Jiro stirred his tea, then Otas coffee with the same spoon before handing the mug to him. Before he took his painfully sweet tea and walked back to the couch. 

Hinsaori did the same after putting the knife away. Plopping down on the couch cushion beside Jiro.

He took a sip of the coffee and.. Damn. Damn! It really was good, it was his usual but for some reason it tasted so much better? What the hell did Jiro put into this shit?

He wanted to ask, but he watched the man make it. There was nothing else in it. Maybe it was just because he was still tired-ish?

Seeing how words didn't get him very far, he rested his right hand on Jiros leg, sipping with his left. Instead of jerking away like usual, Jiro let him. Drinking his 'disgusting' tea. He sat it down on the table beside him, and closed his eyes. Fuck he really was tired huh? He could feel Hinsaoris warm hand through his pants, it felt nice, especially considering the cold weather as of late, he almost wanted to sink into it more, no matter how impossible that was.

Hinsaori, noticing that Jiro had finally relaxed, sat his coffee on the floor by his feet, just far enough away to not kick it by accident.

He brought his right hand up to Jiros forehead before speaking,

"Y'know, if you're tired we can go lay down, you don't gotta push yourself" Even though he'd said he'd slept.. Hinsaori was doubtful, he wasn't an insomniac sure but for some reason he had this odd habit of pulling all-nighters, even if he wasn't doing anything specific. 

Jiro halfway opened his eyes, before pushing his head into Hinsaoris shoulder, whispering "yes..Please...that'd be nice." Letting impulse take over. He didn't feel like he needed to explain himself to the others, that he didn't need to explain why he lied about not sleeping. There was always some unspoken understanding between him and the others. It.. It was nice.

"Alright-" Hinsaori started as he ruffled Jiros’ hair lightly, god Jiro felt as if he could melt into the guy.

"Go ahead and get into bed, I'll be there in a second mm? Alright?" 

Jiro vaguely tried to nod his head, really only nudging himself into Hinsaoris’ shoulder bone. "Yeah..", he moved finally, taking a few swigs of his tea, he stood up, walked to the kitchen, threw the tea bag out, rinsed the mug, put it in the sink, and headed to bed.

Did Jiro really finish his tea that quickly? Jeeze.

Hinsaori picked his coffee off the ground, taking a few sips, yeah there's no way he's gonna finish it that fast, so he sat it on the counter beside the sink, he'll deal with it later, all he cared about right now was snuggling with the unsnuggleable.

He walked into his bedroom to find Jiro, facing the wall, blanket pulled down, waiting for Ota. He shut his door behind him.

He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, he considered changing but he felt comfortable enough, he could always just rewash it.

He got into bed and pulled the covers up onto both of them.

He stared at the ceiling fan, he never turned it on, Jiro always had to have a fan on, or at least the noise, even in the middle of winter. It's a wonder that his still works considering how often it's on.

Just staring at the ceiling, he didn't feel as tired anymore. He rolled over to Jiros back, huh. Jiro usually turns his back to the wall, maybe he's over thinking it. Yeah. 

He mentally crossed his fingers that he wouldn't be killed for what he was about to do, and wrapped his arms around Jiros lower torso, resting his face in between his shoulder and head, so close to his ear..

Jiro moved his hands to Hinsaoris, resting them there. His hands were always so cold compared to everyone else's, he'd never admit it but, he loved holding hands, how warm it was.

He was at peace.

He whispered something out before falling dead asleep to the world, Hinsaori followed soon after.

"I love you."

"I love you more. Always."

. .

Kouga, Reina, and Noriko got back later than expected. Even though they were an activist group, they were still people, which meant they still had to run errands. 

Kouga was in the kitchen with Reina unpacking groceries while Noriko took off her shoes on the couch, before she went to stand up to put them away, she saw it to her left..

A piece of white bread. Just on the table. Sitting there. Menacingly.

Today was Hinsaoris date with death.

[mrhaitch]

HIHI Mr. Haitch! Back with more questions! If you could also ask either one of your sons or Haitch the first question as well and tell us their answer too that would be great thanks:)

• (By us I mean me) I hope the heat over there gets better soon, but I am also suffering over here so I get your complaints about the heat.

My brain turns off every time it gets hotter than 25 degrees.

What is your favourite thing to eat on a rainy day? Or like what thing that you eat reminds you of a rainy day?

If you could steal one object from your worst enemy's house but only to slightly inconvenience them? (Ex: door to the washing machine) <- this is what I’d choose. something not necessarily expensive but something useful

Would you ever do those adopt a shark/any other animal, where you pay to get photos and name it or whatever? I saw one for sharks where you download an app and you can track it and get updates on it’s health.

FUN FACT: “flying” squirrels can jump from any height and land safely. There’s a video on Mark Rober’s page on how he built an obstacle course for the squirrels and showed a bunch of stuff about said squirrels.

Sorry it's taken me a little while. Things have calmed down for the second day running so I can finally answer these:

1. I don't think any of us have any particular foods we go to when it rains, but it does leave me craving leek and potato soup (heavy on the nutmeg) with buttered crusty bread.

2. Those little spokes that hold the toilet seat in place.

3. Hm, probably not. I do donate to the RSPB, and have in the past donated to other wildlife organisations. With those adopt an animal things I can never be 100% sure if the money is going where they say it's going, and are also typically targeted at what are called 'charismatic mammals' who receive plenty of funding and support where other integral species aren't so lucky - purely because they're not as pretty.

4. Very cool.

[eggedbellies]

Inspired by a comic I read when I first got into transformation

going to a thrift shop, a bit old looking but full of so many clothing items and accessories.  They have mannequins with pictures of the models who wore the outfits,  and their outfits all in one piece,  but you're allowed to mix and match. They got some weird accessories, like cat ears, a shark tooth necklace, golden jewelry straight out of history books,  bunny ears, fake tails(not lewd), gloves with claws or paws, shoes ranging from practical and stylish to oversized monsters slippers, fake teeth, etc. a weird mix of Halloween stuff and functional jewelry.  They even have some weird ones like "dragon skin armor"(real things look it up like it's a ballistic vest),  the body suit of a trapped witch,  cow bikinis, bunny suits (both regular and reverse) for all genders,  a werewolf mask with "genuine" werewolf fur,  merpeople tails with a tag "just add water!",  bits and pieces of what you can assume fursuits and some wings said to be "handmade"

the owner says to try as much you like,  it's not often they get a customer,  and if you would like they got even more stuff in the back room. 

well what happens if you put stuff on, you morph to fit them.  So like the mannequins with the models,  depending on what you wear you morph into it.  So putting on the shorts of the surfer dude gave you his legs and chest,  while the earrings gave you the face of the supermodel.  But when you put on the shark necklace... Well

turning into a shark person and audibly enjoying the transformation should have raised alarms,  but the owner says are you doing ok but with a hint of happiness for you. Mixing and matching some more you could find yourself a goblin mixed with a kobold looking like they deserve to be on the cover of a fashion image,  the human clothes changing to fit your new frame. 

Or maybe a pure wolf after putting on nothing but the wolf mask,  but then putting on a few human accessories so you can at least stand on two legs.  Maybe put on the shark necklace with the wolf mask and become a were shark of some sort. 

Possibilities are endless

And the shop owner says they still have the backroom with more stuff,  and a place where you can "test out" you're new outfits (more like a magical room where you can go to the beach or a forest or an office building)

What are some combos you think would be good?

These sort of stories were my bread and butter when I was younger :') I loved them so much and they're still so dear to me lol

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hello there! I wanna request something if that’s cool! 나 자신에 대해 말해줄게!

Fandom: I’d like a romantic matchup for Jujustu Kaisen, Ninjago & MHA (For JJK I don’t want to be matched with any of the minors and for MHA I don’t want to be matched up with any of the girls)

My name is Joey but I also go by Himawari, Rin or Magtanggol too! I’m Transgender (ftm), Aromatic, Polyamory, Unlabled, & Bisexual, I’ve been diagnosed with Autism, ADHD, Schizophrenia, BPD & OCD and im wasian (west-southeast asian and white), polish, arab, flipino, scottish & russian.

personality traits (and notes): extroverted, at first awkward, shy and distant when meeting people, extremely independent, when comfortable I talk about a lot of stuff for hours, loud talker, emotions come off as sarcastic or silly (due to autism), confident, straightforward (I have a urge to correct someone of faulty information), uses “big” words, good sense of humor, playful, entertaining, optimistic, mischievous, curious(I’m nosy and I love gossip), i can be a rule breaker(sometimes I don’t mean to), dad/tharapist friend, when I go out I bring water bottles, first aid kit, chapstick(s) just in case, chill but some people would say I have some “repressed anger issues”, I get a realllyyy overractive Brain, I tend to get deep and philosophical when I’m left on my own for to long, I can be verbally aggressive when prevoked, I have a hard time taking everything seriously, when someone yells at me I’ll turn very cold and aggressive very fast

hobbies: anime/manga, gaming, anthropology, pathology, zoology, music (I’m a vocaloid producer, i can rap like MILLI, i make odecore/breakcore/scenecore music and I make music like ATARASHII GAKKO, YOASOBI & Ado too), dancing, filmmaking, art (drawing, painting, pottery, digital art, etc), learning different instruments/languages, cosplaying, skateboarding, tabletop RPG’s, taking pictures of things that I think are pretty, collecting figurines/stuffed animals and puppetry, science/history, soccer/volleyball/basketball and swim, cooking/baking, art is definitely my main hobby I dedicate a lot of time to it

likes: vocaloid/utau, k-pop/j-pop, watching documentaries/youtube, decorating my room, iced coffee, boba tea, bread, sharks, cats, cold weather, Christmas music/christmas in general, musicals, cleaning, rhythm games, being with my friends, shopping, partys, mint candles, sweet and spicy food, deserts.

I'm a ENTP, 4w3 and a Aquarius ♒️

misc: I live in a mixed language house hold where I speak mostly polish and Arabic, and some Korean and Japanese, it world be nice if the person who I get can react to that lol, i know 6 languages (Japanese, Korean, Spanish, Arabic, Polish & French), prone to be a bit directionless in life, tries to find comfort and humor in hard times, tries not to take life to seriously, everytime I have a party there’s always dabke dancing and I take control of it all the time and it’s super fun!

appearance /aesthetic: 5'6 / 167.64 cm, midsize, rectangular body shape, i have a masculine and feminine face (somehow), dimple on chin, hazel eyes, wears glasses, dyed black boy hair, lots of piercings, no tattoos(I need some), for style, i wear a lot suck as goth (trad goth, romantic goth, mall goth, cyber goth, and victorian goth), gyaru (hime gal, himekaji, agejo, rokku, manba, banba, kogal, tsuyome, and kigurumi), scenemo/emo, & vkei ouji and lolita, i wear streetwear clothes mostly at home/school/work, i wear fishnets and combat boats/converse, but I also wear Y2K and I also dress in alternative clothing a LOT.

thank you so much! miłego dnia/lub nocy.

Hi Joey! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took a while. I hope you like your matchups!

In Jujutsu Kaisen, I match you with...

Gojo matches your extroverted energy flawlessly. But at the same time, everyone around is glad you’re there with your “chill dad friend” energy to combat his “chaotic wine aunt” vibes.

While he initially comes off as shallow, Gojo loves it when you get deep and philosophical. It gives him a chance to talk about serious topics that he otherwise wouldn’t get the chance to.

He feels like he can be himself when he’s with you and that means a lot to him.

Please speak different languages around him! He thinks it’s so cool. He’s convinced you’re always flirting with him, even if he has no clue what you’re really saying.

Feel free to mess with him in this regard. Say the most random and unhinged things in a flirtatious enough tone and he’s flirting back.

You can also occasionally switch it up and say something actually romantic just to keep him on his toes. He loves it!

Look at me and tell me this man isn’t a fan of vocaloid/k-pop/j-pop. He’s got his favourite songs but is always open to recommendations. He enjoys being able to dance around with you to his heart’s content.

In Ninjago, I match you with...

Jay’s another one who is fascinated by your ability to speak several languages. I feel like he only speaks English, and a tiny bit of Spanish that he learnt in high school.

You may need to find someone else if you want to have a deep philosophical conversation that is more than one-sided. But Jay is happy to listen if you’re happy to ramble.

He does his best to keep up with the conversation and will occasionally say something so profound, you may need to take a minute.

Skating dates! Jay is absolutely a skateboarder and he’s so happy you are as well. He enjoys clearing his head by going skating with you, somewhere out of the way so fans don’t bother you.

He also enjoys watching YouTube with you. He doesn’t really mind what you watch; he gets invested in anything and everything.

Jay loves your figurine and stuffed animal collection. He thinks it’s really cool. I can see him as someone who has a figurine collection of his own so he likes comparing what you each have. He’ll pick up new figurines of you when he’s out and has the time.

In My Hero Academia, I match you with...

Denki is absolutely a fan of vocaloid/k-pop/j-pop. He loves that type of music so much, especially the upbeat songs he can dance to.

Say anything in a different language and Denki is going to think you’re the smartest person on the planet. And then he’s running what you said through Google Translate so he knows what you said. The results are always interesting…

Much like Jay, I see Denki as someone who enjoys skateboarding. He likes being able to do cool tricks to impress you. Just make sure you take some Band-Aids.

When you go on skating dates, you’ll usually end up at a cafe somewhere. Denki’s also a fan of boba and he’s slowly working his way through the entire menu at his favourite boba place.

Loves playing games with you. Whether it’s tabletop RPGs, video games, or board games in general, he doesn’t mind.

He has a preference towards video games, but honestly, as long as he gets to spend time with you and have fun, he’s happy with anything.