#the soggy pockets

[reyofsunshne]

The Soggy Pockets at The Leadbeater Hotel, Naarm

[crow-caller]

Orbtacular...

[sukuaeheddo]

why doesn’t the big jay eat the little jay??

[spinostarz]

sooo i drew myself a mini crozier and brought him to iceland with me

[willowser]

i was never really into dabi…..but the devil has grabbed me by the ankles and swung me into hell…………do you think you could maybe rec some of your fav dabi fics (or blogs)?🥹🥹

swung you into dabi hell qifbfuajak he truly is...a force to be reckoned with.....he WILL NOT let you leave btw 😔 but i'm happy to have you here with us 🥹🥹🥹

let's see....i will read anything @heich0e and @ghostbeam write about him, this by @shiggybrainr0t is beautiful, @saintshigaraki has The Dabi Piece of all time, this fic by @dashielldeveron is post-canon and looks so healing and it will make me cry, mao is writing easily my favorite dabi fic of all time, i'm sure of it already, but if you want to check it out, you need to read the tags and respect the story !! please !!! okay only if you promise then here :3

those are the first that come to mind !!!! i am probably forgetting something bc i'm here thinking about it but i feel like i haven't seen too much dabi lately !!!!! but i am also a lil picky about the characterizations i prefer hehe

but if anyone else has any dabi recs, please share !!!! for friend in need here !!! 🥹

[cillixn]

this reminded me of you and your tags 😅

omg stop lmaooo but srsly that literally describes these two

[mariatesstruther]

okay but a fic following tommy in jackson as he watches sarah’s look-alike grow up and have her baby. maybe he develops his own relationship with this girl and her kid, and it helps him deal with losing sarah??????? perhaps????? stay with me!

like we see how hard it was for joel to see her just once in 1x06. assuming tommy’s been in jackson for years, which i do, he has probably watched this young woman grow into an adult, getting struck with that pain of distant familiarity every single time he sees her. i imagine it would lowkey torture him until he truly confronts his grief over sarah and the life she could’ve lived

and imagine when she—im gonna name her kiara bc i hate when characters don’t have names—gets pregnant. tommy has to watch as kiara’s belly gets bigger and bigger, watch as the jackson community frets over her hand and foot because jackson takes extra special care of it’s pregnant residents, watch from the sidelines as kiara gets a future that sarah will never have while looking just like her

but THEN maybe he gets to know her a little bit???? maybe kiara knows he does housework and eventually asks maria if anyone can help fix-up and baby-proof her little two-bedroom house to prepare for the little one. maria knows tommy would be the perfect man for the job, but she also knows that he keeps careful distance from kiara on purpose

she sees the way his shoulders tense and his easy expression drops every time she’s in his line of sight. she saw how one time, when kiara had come over to talk to maria while she was sitting with him, tommy could barely handle looking at her up close: he ended up staring at his plate and clearing it—even the squash medley, which she knows he fucking hates—until he had reason to leave the hall completely.

but there truly is no one else she would rather help kiara; the only other person that does housework as good as tommy is fuckin jacob, and jacob is seth’s best friend, which means he’s a lowkey bigoted asshole that will only do “favors” for maria if he gets something in return. she, frankly, doesn’t want him anywhere near kiara. so maria still talks to tommy about it, and because he’s the most selfless loving man she’s ever met, he agrees. they talk about backup plans and what tommy should do if he gets too triggered—they’ve been working at distress tolerance and detecting when his mind is going fuzzy, so he knows to get straight to their home and wait for maria when it happens. privately, maria talks to kiara and tells her that tommy is still dealing with some stuff that triggers him and might need breaks once in ahwile; she knows to go get maria immediately if this happens

so tommy helps kiara out, and along the way they get to talking and being more friendly with each other. kiara reveals that she’s extremely nervous to be a mom, that she’s doing it alone (the asshole that was with her split jackson when he foundnout because men still be menning in their apocalypse). she tells tommy that she’s never been more scared to do anything in her whole life, and she lived alone as a young girl in FEDRA-run QZ

and suddenly, tommy realizes he has had almost this exact conversation before. with joel. he remembers standing by and watching joel freak out over baby-proofing their place, raving and ranting: how am i supposed to do this, tommy? we have too many fucking cabinets—look at all of these fucking cabinets! aye, im gonna ruin her. and tommy had been speechless in the face of all that fear. he knows how scared they both were, and he knows what he would’ve wanted to hear then, too. with the gift of time and wisdom, he finally knows what to say

so he comforts kiara, and by some miracle, it actually works. he tells her about joel raising sarah alone, and how terrifying it all seemed, right up until she actually got to them: he tells her how all that terror turned into love the moment he held that little ray of sunshine in his arms. he tells her about how sarah used to be what he and joel called a boo-boo magnet, constantly falling over and knocking into shit, always having bumps, scrapes, and bruises as a result. most importantly, he told kiara, she was always just fine: as long as she felt loved, sarah was always just fine. kiara’s baby would be just fine, too

and this convo changes kiara’s whole perspective, her whole vibe. tommy see’s the difference in her now, when he spots her in the dining hall or walking across town with a hand on her belly, tense with excitement instead of anxiety. he feels the difference in himself, too: he’s no longer struck with the abstract pain of remembrance as he sees her, now. he just feels honest friendship, true familiarity, and a rush of fond protectiveness for her that reminds him of the way he felt for sarah. it doesn’t hurt, or at least not the same way. it feels good, knowing kiara as kiara, not as the ghost of his niece. it feels right

she always makes sure to stop and talk to him when they cross paths, asking him about his work around town (or teasing him about he and maria, because at this point they’re trying to keep it lowkey but. kiara knows. talia knows. half of jackson suspects it and kiara wants the inside scoop okay so SPILL tommy just tell me!!!!!). somehow, tommy has developed a good relationship with the girl he thought he’d never have the guts to speak to

when kiara is on her last couple weeks of pregnancy, mostly bedridden and definitely ready to give birth, she asks tommy to stop by once every few days to have lunch or dinner with her. it always suprises him, but he always goes. they talk mostly about raising children: how different it seems to be post-2003, how scared kiara still is even despite her new confidence, how tumultuous sarah’s first few months were. he realizes, later, that he hasn’t talked about sarah this much to anyone but maria since she’s passed. he finds their conversations ease the ache in him more than avoiding kiara ever could’ve

when kiara has the baby, tommy accidentally becomes a quasi-godfather-uncle-grandparent without even having been asked. it’s clear that, from their time together, kiara is very fond of him—judging from the way her baby, kelsey, always settles down and stares at him in wonder whenever he’s around, it’s clear she likes him too. when kelsey becomes old enough to smile, she’s never ever around tommy without grinning and giggling, enamored by his silly face and silly voice and silly mustache, which she’s always trying to pull off. when kelsey becomes old enough to walk, kiara can’t bring her anywhere near tommy without the toddler trying her best to baby-sprint over to him. more than once, she’s fallen smack-down onto her face and gotten right back up, arms outstretched to tommy as she continues determinedly to toddle over. when kelsey becomes old enough to speak, she’s constantly calling for him and babbling to him when kiara finally brings her over. kelsey can’t even really pronounce her t’s until she’s three, so for awhile she calls tommy “mommy,” and kiara thinks it’s hilarious. she’s called mama anyway, so it doesn’t really matter to her that her baby calls this semi-random grown man mommy. everytime, it makes tommy want to simultaneously laugh and cry

by the time joel shows up, kelsey is six and not-so-obsessed with tommy anymore. her and kiara still join him and maria for dinner at least once a month, and kelsey has distant memories of calling tommy mommy, then uncle mommy, then finally naming him tim-tam-tommy when she turned four, the nickname for him that still stuck. he thinks about warning joel about her, when they talk in the bar, because he sure as hell could’ve used a goddamn warning—but the conversation goes left, so they never get there.

when joel sees kiara and kelsey for the first time, it’s hits him as hard as it once did tommy

tagging @ameerawrites because i feel like u always indulge in tommy trauma brainrot with me and @clickergossip bc this idea started on tommy day :)

[wings-of-ink]

You

Said

Soggy bottom... 💀

Sooooo you said.. ??? Makes sure there is no soggy bottoms.. 🤔

Interesting... 🧐

Your maturity is unmatched. :p

LOL Sounds like you suffer from...

??? can help you with that.

[delusional-dingus]

purble

here i made an ask meme because i love them (im supposed to be doing an essay rn)

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

once again thinking about the fact that harrowhark nonagesimus is a five-foot-nothing necrophiliac dweeb ass nun. she is soggy and bleeding and does not sleep enough. for most of htn she has about 3/4 of a functioning brain. she looks at everyone like she's worked out how to kill them. her entire life is consumed by an all-encompassing grief and guilt that isn't even hers. she's got a mean sense of humor and pockets full of dubiously sourced teeth. and every eligible bachelorette in the nine houses would fling themselves into the sun for her hand in marriage.

[reyofsunshne]

The Soggy Pockets!

These guys are my favourite band to come out of Naarm/Melbourne, so I thought I would make them some fan posters to give to them all next gig (this Saturday)!

These lads are on instagram @thesoggypockets and my design work can be found by looking my username up literally anywhere.

or you can hire me for your band here

[8um8le]

Secret weapon

@8um8le Nap time 👍

[melshifting]

(un)necessary extras to script p.2!

#01～ Your size is always in stock when you buy clothes. You don't have to search through racks, or be disappointed: the perfect size is always waiting for you.

#02～ When listening to music on shuffle, your playlist always seems to know exactly what song you need to hear next.

#03～ Your laces never untie themselves when you walk, no matter how loosely or tightly you tie them.

#04～ Your socks never mysteriously disappear when you wash them. Each pair remains intact, always matching and never stretched or misshapen

#05～ Leftovers always taste just as good (or better) the next day. Nothing is dry, soggy, or tasteless after reheating.

#06～ Your jewelry never tarnishes, discolors, or stains to that strange green color; everything you wear always looks new.

#07～ Your passwords will always be safe and easy for you to remember, no need to write them down or constantly reset them.

#08～ You never accidentally bite the inside of your cheek while eating - no painful mid-meal surprises...

#09～ You always pick the freshest produce without even trying - no more pounding on watermelons and avocados, it's like your hands know.

#10～ Your sheets always stay in place, no matter how much you toss and turn in bed (no waking up to a half-naked mattress at 3 am lol).

#11～ No matter how fast you walk or what activity you're doing, your socks never slip inside your shoes.

#12～ You never feel that uncomfortable static discharge when you touch a door handle/car/another person.

#12～ When you wear white, you never stain. Drinks, sauces, even pens… nothing ends up staining your clothes.

#13～ No matter how tangled your necklaces are, you can detach them in seconds without frustration - they simply fall apart on their own.

#14～ Even if you forget to charge your earbuds, they have enough battery for one last use when you really need them.

#15～ Your headphones never fall out, no matter how much you move. They simply stay attached without causing discomfort.

#16～ You never get a bad haircut - somehow, your hairdresser always understands what you mean and you always leave happy.

#17～ Your phone charger never mysteriously stops working, it always charges instantly.

#18～ Your wifi never crashes at the worst moments. Streaming, gaming, video calls… always without problems or sudden disconnections.

#19～ Your perfume/cologne remains throughout the day, but never overwhelmingly: it's just the right amount of scent at just the right times.

#20～ You don't experience the horror of biting into something expecting it to be sweet and it turns out salty (or vice versa).

#21～ No matter how chaotic your closet is, you always find the exact garment you're looking for in seconds.

#22～ You never have that frustrating moment when you almost sneeze but don't. When it happens, it happens.

#23～ Whenever you need to tie your hair back, you have a scrunchie at hand. Whether in your pocket, purse, or even on your wrist, you never struggle to find one.

[boricuasirena25]

cute little painfully nerdy 2000s ellie williams x popular bimbo fem reader

ellie sat hunched over her lunch tray, poking at her soggy curly fries with a spork that had seen better days. her glasses were already sliding down her nose, but she didn’t care—her green eyes were glued across the room.

you were sitting with your boyfriend.

your boyfriend, who had the personality of a ‘home depot bucket’.

your boyfriend, who just smacked your ass in front of the whole table.

ellie’s pen shook in her grip as she kept doodling, her sketchbook open between her tray and a half-empty dr pepper. the drawing? you.

you in a ballgown, tits perky and glowing, eyes soft, tied to a tower.

ellie was the knight, naturally. messy armor, converse still drawn on, sword raised. saving you from sir adrian the d*ckhead.

“ellie,” dina said softly, sipping her chocolate milk like it was wine, “please tell me that’s not her again.” jesse leaned over and glanced down. “is… is that her boobs again?”

“she drew the lace detail,” dina whispered, slightly horrified. “ellie.”

ellie’s ears turned red. “i—i’m just… practicing anatomy.”

“that’s the fifteenth ‘anatomy’ sketch this week,” jesse muttered. “you’re not fooling anyone.”

“she’s wearing that bra today,” ellie said under her breath, dreamily. “the pink one. the push-up. victoria’s secret. i know the straps.”

dina choked. “you memorized her bras?!”

“i don’t need to look. i see them when i close my eyes,” ellie whispered, then slowly blinked, biting her lip. “f*ck, i’m gonna nut right here.”

jesse looked away. “this is concerning.”. dina leaned in, serious now. “ellie. she is never gonna want you. babe… she’s dating adrian. she told you to stop calling her mamacita.”

“she doesn’t hate me,” ellie muttered, defensive. “she just doesn’t know me yet.”

“you said she told you to ‘stop breathing near her,’” jesse pointed out.

ellie went quiet. still staring. you were giggling at something your boyfriend said. your gloss was shining. your boobs were… goodness. ellie had to adjust her hoodie.

and then—she saw it.

adrian… was looking at another girl’s ass. right in front of you.

and not even subtly. full turn. smirk. a wink.

you didn’t see it. but ellie did.

she felt something in her chest snap.

“…f*ck it,” ellie said suddenly, slamming her sketchbook shut. “i can’t.”

dina blinked. “ellie—what are you doing?”

“she’s not staying with that meathead. not while i’m here. i swear to God.”

jesse watched her stand. “bro. please don’t.”

ellie was already halfway to your table, glasses sliding, spider-man boxers probably damp, confidence nonexistent—but the delusion?

unbreakable.

you looked up just as she approached.

she stopped right at your table. her voice cracked a little. “h- hey… can I talk to you?”

you looked up slowly, straw still between your glossed lips, sipping your strawberry milk just like the princess you are in her sketches. your lashes fluttered, eyes big and bored.

“…you wanna talk to me?” you said, raising a brow. “about what?”

ellie’s heart thudded so hard she swore everyone could hear it. her hands were jammed in the front pocket of her hoodie, sketchbook awkwardly stuffed in the back of her jeans, peeking out like a secret.

“i- uh—” she cleared her throat. “i just— i had something to say.”

adrian, your muscle-brained boyfriend, didn’t even wait. he leaned forward, smirking with some BBQ sauce on his thumb. “yo, is this the girl who wrote you that weird poem in homeroom?”

you blinked. “what poem?”

ellie turned the color of a stop sign. “i didn’t— that wasn’t—it wasn’t weird—”

“she’s the band girl, right?” adrian laughed. “what was it again—something about your ’glossed lips guiding her sword’?”

“it was a metaphor!” ellie snapped, voice cracking again.

you looked her up and down. glasses slipping. hoodie wrinkled. fingers twitching. you caught the sketchbook spine sticking out her back pocket, and your brain flickered—was that glittery gel pen on the edge?

adrian scoffed. “nah, baby, don’t waste your time. this girl’s clearly obsessed.”

“i’m not obsessed,” ellie mumbled. “i just… admire her. from afar. and sometimes from slightly less afar. but not in a creepy way.”

you blinked slowly. “slightly less afar?”

ellie swallowed hard. she could barely look at you. your push-up bra was peeking out beneath your VS pink zip up, your boobs right there and glowing under the fluorescent cafeteria light like the holy grail.

“i just think you’re, like… really smart,” ellie blurted.

you squinted. “smart?”

“yeah,” she nodded fast, flustered. “like, not just hot. you’re smart-hot. your notes in AP Bio are color-coded and your handwriting’s, like, freakishly neat. i saw it once and cried a little.”

adrian burst out laughing. “yo, this b*tch is wild.”

you ignored him. still staring at ellie. “you… cried?”

ellie pushed her glasses up. “i also drew you in medieval armor once. you were holding a staff made of lip gloss and the souls of men who hurt you. your bra was historically inaccurate but, like, it made sense narratively.”

adrian stood up now. “alright, you’re done—”

“no,” you said suddenly, sharp. “she’s not.”

adrian turned, stunned. you looked back at ellie, tilting your head.

“what was i holding again?” you asked.

ellie froze. “uh. a staff. made of—of fenty gloss and vengeance.”

you smiled. real smile. not sarcastic, not mocking. you leaned in just a little, lashes fluttering.

“and what were you wearing?”

ellie nearly passed out. “…spidey armor. i think. it had boob padding for—well. i didn’t want to be historically inaccurate either.”

you giggled. adorable, deadly. the sound of lesbo nerd death.

ellie stood frozen. your eyes sparkled. you didn’t say anything else—you just slowly turned back to your fries like it was nothing. ellie didn’t know if she’d just won or if you were about to file a restraining order.

dina and jesse were in the back mouthing WHAT THE F*CK.

but ellie? ellie walked back to her seat with her chest puffed slightly and her spider-man boxers clinging just a little wetter to her.

[cryptotheism]

I ended up at a Wendy's. I haven't been to a Wendy's in years. My neighborhood in LA is famous for being 30 minutes from everywhere. It's a pocket of suburban sprawl the highways forgot. My short time between the car and the door of the Wendy's was occupied with the sounds of traffic, and views of streetlights stretching to the horizon.

I ended up at a Wendy's. Wendy's wasn't on my mind. We happened to have cupons for a free frosty. Imagine that. A free frosty.

I ended up at a Wendy's and the interior was like the old portable classrooms at my elementary school, right before they got torn down, beige and scoured like the inside of an old pot, fixtures cracked and unbandaged. Dirty carpet crunched underfoot. I let my roommate order first.

I ended up at a Wendy's with five other souls. The lone blazed teenager behind the counter, my roommate, and two homeless people in the far corner. One was out like a light, sleeping peacefully. The other spent the meal glaring at nothing in particular. There was no music.

I ended up at a Wendy's seven dollars lighter. My fried chicken sandwich brought back memories. I remember learning that the company who provided my high school cafeteria lunches was the same company that provided lunches to the California prison system. It was like a memory of a chicken sandwich, distant, lukewarm, dewy.

I ended up in a Wendy's and realized the last time I thought of Wendy's was some passing fad on the internet. People were drawing pornography of the mascot. Memories of clownish breasts through mouthfuls of soggy fries. The thought came unbidden: what would it be like to bite that thing? To really sink your teeth into it? I think my jaws would pass right through. I think it would buckle like rotten tree bark. I think it would be lukewarm, microwaved by the Sonoran sun.

[meiieiri]

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: toji will never forget the first night he spent away from the zenin clan and the day he met you.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: saw you in a dream, timeless | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse but generally pretty much a fluff fic where toji and y/n meet for the first time. | a/n: finally launching my little love project called “hidden inventory: the lost tapes”! 🍒

Now isn’t this just perfect?

Toji’s is just one inconvenience away from just going back to the Zenin clan with his tail between his legs. First, he underestimates just how expensive living in Tokyo is so, with what little pocket money his emotionally distant mother gave him before he left the estate, the first thing he does is spend it all on a girl — in broad daylight — he’s heard his brother, Jinichi, talk about those cute little call girls that crawl the streets of Kabukichō with flyers in their hand for thirty-minute “massages”. Naturally, as a young man who is only first experiencing the carnal joys the city has to offer, Toji was curious and he took the bait.

A bait that cost him ¥30,000 and the girl was unfortunately sloppy at best.

Now, he doesn’t have money to buy so much as a soggy red bean pancake for dinner. He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around this dingy part of Shinjuku but as long as the red light district’s trashy ambience is distracting him from the growling of his stomach, then, he’ll stumble around this hellhole until morning.

“Ha! You won’t even last two minutes out there!” That’s what Naobito Zenin, the head of the clan said to him when he left. “Only two things await you when you get out of here, either you’ll die hungry or a cursed spirit will get to you first — either way, you’ll die with your eyes wide open with no one!”

Overrun by his thoughts, Toji doesn’t even notice that he accidentally intruded on a random cockroach and curse-infested alleyway that apparently belonged to some junkie who is now angrily telling him to get lost. “I was just looking for a place to sit down,” Toji scoffs. Weren’t they both bottom feeders in this city? Why was this rancid-smelling meth addict acting like he’s any better than him?

“Well, go sit somewhere else, this place is off-limits!”

It was almost funny how Toji thought that the world beyond the gates of the Zenin estate was any better than the shit show he was born into.

He should have known better than to be enticed by the glitz and glamour of living independently from his abusive family who at least had the decency to feed him maggoty rice from the estate’s second storehouse dedicated to prepare the animals’ food. They also gave him shelter, of course, he’s had to live in the Zenin estate’s shed for a while now since his father discovered he was born useless without an ounce of cursed energy. But at least he was warm, and the termites made him feel less lonely.

He continues on in his aimless quest. The night is still young. There’s plenty of time for self-depreciating introspection.

Hopefully, that grade three cursed spirit that’s been following him around the block for a while now gets to him first before the rain does.

“That guy over there,” your coworker whispers to you from the cash registers. “He’s been there for a while now and he hasn’t ordered anything.”

You look up from your pocketbook, your eyes curiously trained on the rugged looking man whose eyes were downcast, trained on the service water he requested from the counter when he came in. As if he could feel a pair of eyes on him, he looks up, and glances your way for a bit but you quickly hide your face behind your book.

“He kinda looks like trouble, no? Shady too, just look at the scar on his lip…”

“It’s not fair to judge someone like that, Rika-chan,” you whispered to your junior, turning to arrange the menus, painstakingly wiping each one clean with a cloth dampened with sanitizer. A small smirk appears on Toji’s lips at your passive defense of his character and as if to goad you on, he drums his fingertips against the table daring you to say another word. “Anyway, I’ll handle closing the shop tonight. You need to get home since you have class in a few hours.”

That seemed sudden. Rika looks at you funnily before shrugging off her apron in favor of her raincoat. “Well, alright, if you insist. Should I clean up the kitchen at least?”

“I’ll handle it,” you give her a thumbs up, waving her goodbye as she leaves through the backdoor. Now that you’re alone, you could hardly stop yourself from glancing at the mysterious man, and Toji himself wonders if his presence here is starting to turn into a nuisance. You were probably waiting for him to step out so you could close shop for the night but it’s raining hard right now and there are no other places open nearby to take shelter in.

The chair’s feet screeches against the wooden floorboards and you head to the restaurant’s kitchen. Toji stares at your retreating form, looks like he overstayed his welcome. He searches around for a few coins to give to you for your hospitality, of course, it probably doesn’t mean jack shit, but you must have known he didn’t have enough money for a meal when he came in here. You would have realized that immediately. But you allowed him to stay regardless.

You return a couple of minutes later with a bowl miso soup with ginger pork gyoza and shredded cabbages. You set the bowl down in front of him and Toji is thoroughly taken aback, he looks at you dumbfounded. “I don’t have any money,” his voice comes out a little gruffly but you barely flinch at the sharp edge of his tone.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Refilling his water, you explained that while you could have easily stuffed those leftovers back in the freezer, customers wouldn’t want to eat frozen food, so, you decide to heat these items up to give to him instead. “Oh,” Toji answers a little dumbly. “Or you could have thrown them out.” He stares at the sumptuous meal in front of him. Even in the Zenin estate, he never had such good food laid out in front of him before and it was surreal to see a stranger do the things his family should have done for him.

You return to the counter, leaning on your forearms as you engage in light banter with him. “You’re saying I should feed rats over people?” you chuckled, sitting back down, smiling softly when Toji gingerly bringing the bowl of miso soup to his lips, the rich earthy broth warming his throat that he lets out a content sigh.

He smirks at your little remark. “I’m saying you shouldn’t make a habit of feeding strays.” He polishes his soup bowl clean within minutes and you have to remind him to slow down every now and then as you watched him eat ravenously. “You never know when you could get that dainty hand of yours bitten off.”

You blushed pink at that. He was right, being too generous could cost you dearly one day but being the altruistic soul that you are, you’ll probably continue to be graciously selfless despite the risk of being taken advantage of. It’s just how you are as a person who believes that a little kindness can make the world better than it was yesterday. “I…don’t really know about that…whether I get bitten or not by the people I help isn’t really something I can control. The world would be better off if people just learned to be kind to one another.”

Toji hums at your naive countenance, folding his arms over the table. The room is silent for a few minutes save for the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t ya?”

“And you’re a pessimist,” you answered, quirking an amused eyebrow at him. “Who doesn’t even know how to say thank you.” You stand up to clear out the table, a teasing glint in your eyes as your curious orbs collide.

Toji scoffs, leaning against his seat, crossing his legs. At his reluctance, you shake your head, giggling softly. What an infuriating interesting guy. Toji hears the rushing of tap water from behind the counter and he smiles inwardly. The rain begins to slowly stop and he takes this window of opportunity to leave.

You don’t even try to hide your disappointment when you come back to the dining room only to find it empty, the stranger having left nothing in his wake — not a goodbye, not a thank you, and certainly not his name — except a single rusty five yen coin on the table.

Clang-dong!

“Hello, welcome—“ You stop mid-sentence. Your throat constricting with a mix of emotions, the most dominant one being joy at this happy chance, you’d recognize those sharp dark green eyes anywhere despite only first seeing them a week ago. After all, they looked so dangerously beautiful under the dim light of the dining room’s ceiling lampshade. “—back. Welcome back,” you smiled brightly at Toji.

Toji nods, his hand coming up to cover his lips as he coughs once. “Thanks…ah, right — shit, where is it?” After rummaging around his parachute jacket’s many pockets, he finally takes out his wallet and you look at him, bewildered, when he hands a few hundred yen bills to you. “For last week. Sorry I couldn’t pay you back then.”

“It’s fine.” You take his larger, calloused hand and return the money which Toji responds to by stubbornly placing it on the table.

Toji pinches the bridge of his nose when you playfully return the gesture by rolling it up and placing it in his jacket pocket, buttoning it. “Look, it was real nice of you to treat me back then, but I’m not a charity case, alright? I just wanna pay my dues.”

“Then, a simple ‘thank you’ is enough.” Toji just couldn’t understand you. You have absolutely no reason to be nice to him, but you are. For a moment, he begins to fall into the enticing thought that maybe life outside the Zenin estate won’t be too bad after all if there are people like you still around just waiting at random corners to be found in joyful happenstances such as waiting out a storm at a random family-style restaurant over a heartwarming serving of miso soup with tender pieces of gyoza and cabbage.

Relenting, he smirks at you, unable to figure you out. “Thank you.”

“Anyway, need a table for lunch?” you smiled warmly at him as you lead him to the table he sat in a week ago which you now affectionately refer to as ‘his’ table instead of table number four.

Toji nods following your lead and chuckling when you hand him the menu. “Where’s that thing I had last time?“ he oddly flips through the booklet.

“Oh uh…it’s not on the menu actually, but I could make that for you if you’d like.”

“Sounds good.” Toji hands you back the menu. You are just about to scurry away to the kitchen when he calls out to you. “So, do you have a name or should I just keep referring to you as gyoza girl or something?” Embarrassed at the way your knees seem to become weak at his boyish grin, you have to take a few deep breaths before turning around to face him again. “I’m Toji.”

He doesn’t say his last name. He doesn’t feel the need to anymore now that he’s finally closing the door to his past. You nod, noting how the name suited him. It’s brief but strong, muted but loud in its rhythm. Toji. At that moment, you find it impossible to name a prettier sound. After a few excruciating minutes in the kitchen, you come back out with two bowls of miso soup this time around and you sit down on the chair directly in front of him.

“Y/N.”

Toji repeats the melody of your name in his head. “And how much do I owe ya for this, Y/N?”

You shrugged as the two of you dig in, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you chew the steamed gyoza, joining him as he laughs (well, he’s scoffing more than actually laughing, really), his eyes alight with wonder, when you simply say, “Five yen.”