#mochie and bee

[cormiemochi]

MANY BUG FRIENDS!! You guys are just some of the greatest friends I’ve ever had, spending time with you all at AC was just the absolute best! I miss you guys so heccin’ much, and I can’t wait to see you guys again at another con soon! <3

Suit made by Butterscotch Biscuit Costumes (on Twitter and Instagram!)

Happy #FursuitFriday!

@snackhouse and @curiouscalembour are the only ones I recognize here on Tumblr, but the rest are either on Twitter or Instagram as well! ^v^

[mochinomnoms]

ah ha! you fool you opened you ask box back up to this! 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

OH GOD NO NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN—

[mascula-sappho]

Bumper sticker that says "eat my expanding force"

[homingpigecns]

we need to gatekeep naming animals mochi and not even just from white ppl. also asams (esp ones who aren't japanese) who think its a cute asian thing to name their dog. from now on youre only allowed to name your pet mochi if youre eating mochi like that and not on your froyo or w/e like the normal red bean stuff. only real mochiheads allowed

[eldritchmochi]

@icthyarch im sorry I've had a migraine for six straight weeks and also this weekend has involved just So Many Big Feelings (???) and now tomorrow i get to tag along for the first time to my bf's parents house for Family Dinner, dad birthday edition. i dont know any of these people and have zero (0) scripts for Normal Family Interactions. its been a lot and therapy isnt until friday so im making it everyone's problem instead 🫠🫠

[demon-mochi]

Day 10 Bee

[littleplantfreak]

sam..your hand in marriage sam…hold out your left hand ill go get a ring rn i prommy i wont bite suo if he comes near you

Description: A birthday confession with Hajime Umemiya ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡ Character:Hajime Umemiya Word Count:1K Contains: Fem!Reader x Hajime Umemiya. Fluff.

Authors Note: This is just a little belated birthday drabble for @littleplantfreak I hope you had an amazing day!! Also, again congrats on 100 followers Mari, that's such a big milestone and I'm so proud of you!! So please have some Ume to celebrate

(❀ •̀ᴗ•́ )♡

Umemiya could remember the first birthday of yours you had both spent together vividly. He had spent the better part of the morning scrubbing every viable surface in his apartment in preparation for your arrival. Umemiya was acutely aware of his feelings for you. His heart raced and cheeks flushed in your presence. He knew exactly what that meant. He would never admit it out loud to anyone, but he knew. Umemiya wasn’t the best cook, not by any means. He could grow just about any plant you could think of, however, preparing it? He was hopeless. When you had mentioned your love for cooking while perusing the garden shop you both often frequented, he had jumped at the opportunity to invite you over so you could both cook together to celebrate your day.

The mere domesticity of the action leading to him daydreaming about coming home to you after a long day. The two of you next to each other cooking in your kitchen after a long day. Or dancing in the sunlight, your flourishing garden in the backdrop where he would pull you by your wrist, twirling you and gliding along to an invisible song, looking into your eyes before dropping to one kn-

He jumped at the sound of your raps on his door, called back to reality. Clearing his throat to shake the nervousness, he makes his way to the door, impossible to keep the grin from his face upon seeing you. He returns the hug you give him relishing in your touch, eyes closed as he takes in the warmth of your embrace, fighting back the whine that had bubbled in his throat at the loss of you when you pull away. He had ushered you into his apartment, leading you to the kitchen where the groceries sat. “I double and triple-checked the list you sent me, so hopefully everything is there!” He beamed, watching as you hopped up on the counter to pull up the recipe. Sending him that smile that makes his heart beat in his ears as you returned the expression. Teasing him with a “Look we are the same height now pretty boy.”

“I still think I still have some height on ya, sunflower.” His face had been so hot at the petname, he was sweating at this point. Trying not imagine being between your legs, resisting the urge to walk over there and rest his hands on your hips, to pull you towards him and do everything he had ached to do for the better part of the last year since he had met you. Little did he know that was just the beginning of the cracks forming in his resolve. He tried desperately to pay attention to the words coming from those glossy lips of yours. Not even noticing he had begin to inch closer and closer to you. Simply humming every now and then as you spoke.

Umemiya was strong, both physically and mentally, though he was a hairline away from placing a large hand on the small of you back, dipping you romantically with one hand on the back of your neck to keep you steady as he finally, finally placed his lips over yours. As he had said before, he often found himself dazing off, daydreaming these scenarios while in your presence. But it wasn’t until your hands moved to grip the soft material of his sweater that he had realized he was no longer daydreaming. He was feeling the plush of your soft lips against his own, a feeling he had craved from the moment he had first laid his eyes on you. He sighs through his nose in contentment, the boundary had already been crossed, and you weren’t pulling away so he was going to enjoy this while he could. He would deal with the repercussions of his actions after the fact. His lips do try chasing yours when you pull away, though looking down at you with large hopeful eyes at the delicate touch you graced him with when cupping his cheek. Looking down at the surprised expression that dawned you beautiful features when he opened his eyes. Smiling sheepishly as he takes your hand in his own. Kissing your knuckles as he begins to speak.

“I know that may have seemed sudden, but I want you to know it was anything but spontaneous. I have been thinking and dreaming of doing that from the moment I first heard your laughter fill my ears. From the second I saw you smile at me for the first time.” He smiles, his eyes softened with adoration as he presses his forehead against yours. “Sunflower, you mean more to me than words could ever possibly say. If you don’t feel the same I’ll understand but I need you to know. You are the first thing on my mind when I open my eyes every morning and the very last thing I think of before falling asleep. You run circles in my mind constantly. I’m surprised Hiragi hasn’t strangled me for having to listen to me speak of you endlessly.” He laughs delicately, kissing your knuckle once more as his eyes gaze longingly into your own.

“So, honeybee, I know I’ve gotten a bit ahead of myself.. but would you consider being mine?” The look In his eyes was hopeful, heart racing in his ears as he waited with bated breath for your response. It was his turn to be surprised when you surged forward lips captured his own. He couldn’t help but smile into the kiss as he felt you nod, relaxing into your embrace. And as his arms wrapped around your smaller form, mentally cursing himself for how long it had taken him to make this jump. Hajime Umemiya had finally found his home, and that was right here in your arms. And years later he would find himself in a similar position, gazing lovingly in your eyes as you both celebrated yet another one of your birthdays. His heart racing in his chest as he thumbed the small velvet box in his pocket.

Dividers by saradika-graphics. Writing & character banner by me.

[mochis-hideout]

Helluva Boss but happy holidays :3 🎄

[cressidagrey]

Sick Day

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary:  When Bee wakes in the middle of the night with a fever, a simple stomach bug drags Oscar right back to the memories of the night he nearly lost both her and Felicity.

Warnings: Mention of a Stomach Bug, aka one mention of vomit, discussion of NICU, a sick baby and a very traumatic birth. Everything ended well though.

Notes: Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Oscar stirred at the sound of the door creaking open.

At first, he thought it was the wind. Or maybe just a half-formed dream. But then came the soft padding of feet on carpet, the ragged, hiccuping breath��followed by a voice that broke through the haze like a splinter.

“Papa?”

His eyes snapped open.

He sat up instantly, heart already hammering. The digital clock beside the bed blinked 2:43 a.m., casting a faint red glow across the room.

Bee stood in the doorway, tiny and silhouetted by the warm hum of the hallway nightlight. Her pajama shirt clung to her damp frame, curls sticking to her flushed cheeks. Her hands were clasped in front of her chest, and even from across the room, Oscar could see the glassy sheen of her eyes, the sheen of sweat across her brow.

“I don’t feel good,” she whispered, her voice breaking in the middle.

Oscar was out of bed in an instant. “Oh, sweetheart.”

She took a single step forward—

And then gagged.

He caught her before she could fall.

One arm scooped under her knees, the other cradled her back, his hand already smoothing over her curls as her small body curled against him, trembling and hot. Her breath hitched, and she clung to him, her fists twisted in the collar of his t-shirt.

From the bed, Felicity sat bolt upright.

No hesitation. No groggy confusion. Just instinct.

“Bucket,” she said, already out of bed and moving. “Towels. I’ll get a cool cloth. Did she get anything on you?”

“Mostly me, yeah,” Oscar said, voice tight.

Bee whimpered against his shoulder. “Sorry, Papa.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he murmured, rocking slightly. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

But he wasn’t okay.

Not really.

No, he was back in that godforsaken corridor in the Hospital. Under too-bright lights, breathing through a mask and a prayer, waiting for a nurse to come out and tell him his daughter still had a heartbeat. He was nineteen. Terrified. Holding a pen with shaking hands as they asked him to sign consent forms while Felicity hemorrhaged on one floor and Bee—his daughter, his miracle—was wheeled into emergency surgery on another.

He could still hear it: the beeping, the alarms, the chaos.

“We need to operate now or she won’t survive.”

“We’ll do our best.”

He still remembered the weight of her when he finally got to hold her—three days later, post-op, with more wires attached to her then she had had limps and a feeding tube winding down her nose. She was so small. So pale. So still.

He hadn’t known if she’d ever leave that hospital.

And every time she got sick—even now, three years later—his brain pulled the fire alarm and dragged him straight back to that hallway. That sterile smell. That white-hot helplessness.

Intellectually, he knew this was just a virus.

Emotionally? He was nineteen again. In a hard plastic chair in a hospital corridor, waiting for someone to tell him that he wasn’t going to lose the two people he loved most in the world. 

His grip on Bee tightened.

Even now—even years later—even when he knew she was strong, knew she was safe, knew this was just a stomach virus, his brain lit up like a house on fire.

It didn’t matter that she was three now. That she corrected his sector times and haggled over mochi and could name four different chassis designs. Every time she got sick, he was back in that NICU, watching her fight.

Even now—even three years later—even when he knew she was okay and strong and eating whole bowls of rice like a gremlin on better days—this still undid him.

Every time.

He still saw it. The white walls. The smell of antiseptic. The sound of heart monitors beeping in sharp, terrifying rhythm. He was holding her again for the first time after three days of surgeries and wires and machines doing the work her body couldn’t.

She’d felt fragile then. She still did now.

And it didn’t matter that she was three. That she talked back now, that she had opinions about her socks and declared “no thank you” to some vegetables with a queen’s confidence. Every time she got sick, he was right back in that chair outside the NICU, praying for news.

He swallowed hard, shook his head like he could force himself back into the present.

She was three. She was strong. It was just a virus.

But she was also his.

His tiny, stubborn miracle. The baby he hadn’t held until she was three days old. The reason he still sometimes jolted awake if a monitor beeped in a hotel room.

“Papa,” Bee whimpered. “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, Bumblebee,” Oscar whispered, pressing a kiss to her damp curls. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Felicity returned a moment later with the bucket, towels, and the calm clarity of someone who’d done this before. Her voice was steady. Her hands didn’t tremble. She dropped to her knees beside them.

“Take her into the bathroom,” she said, all soft authority. “I’ll get a clean shirt and start the washer. She’s burning up.”

Oscar nodded, lifting Bee gently. She was too quiet. That frightened him more than the fever.

Felicity was already in motion—peeling the sheets, gathering supplies, flipping on the bathroom light.

Bee curled into Oscar’s shoulder as he knelt beside the tub, one hand bracing her back. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven.

“I don’t wanna be sick,” she whispered.

“I know, baby,” Oscar murmured, trying to sound calm even though his throat was tight. “I’m so sorry.”

He peeled her damp pajamas away carefully, heart aching with every whimper. Her small fingers clung to the front of his t-shirt, and even now—even with her feverish and miserable—she pressed her cheek to his chest like it was home.

Felicity returned with a cool cloth, clean pajamas, and a steady presence Oscar couldn’t even begin to explain.

Felicity always did this. Snapped into useful. Into motion. Maybe it was trauma. Maybe it was motherhood. Maybe it was both.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t freeze. She moved.

Oscar watched her with awe and something that cracked inside his chest.

“Arms up, sweetheart,” Felicity coaxed, her voice a soft melody, steady even as Bee whimpered and clung to Oscar’s shirt like it was the only thing anchoring her.

“I don’t want to be sick,” Bee repeated, eyes shiny with exhaustion.

“I know, baby,” Felicity said, wringing out the cool cloth and wiping gently at her forehead. “But we’re here. We’re going to help you feel better.”

Oscar peeled the soiled shirt from her back as gently as he could, hands trembling only slightly now. Felicity was already swapping towels, grabbing a clean pair of pajamas, and laying out a new cup of water like it was all part of a routine she knew too well.

When she’d finished wiping Bee down, Felicity crouched in front of her, brushing sweat-damp curls back from her face. “You scared me, sweetheart,” she whispered.

Bee didn’t speak. Just leaned into her mother’s shoulder, arms limp, her small body sagging between them.

Felicity’s hand found Oscar’s arm, and their eyes met—just for a moment.

No words.

“I don’t want to be sick,” Bee whispered again. 

“I know, Bee,” Felicity said softly. “But we’re here. We’re gonna help you feel better.”

Oscar kissed her damp curls. “We’re not going anywhere.”

***

Later, once Bee was cleaned up and curled in a fresh pair of pajamas—soft cotton with little stars down the sleeves—Felicity got her settled between them in the bed. Oscar watched wordlessly as she moved through the room on automatic, wiping down the bathroom floor, starting laundry, rinsing out the bucket, dimming the light just enough that Bee wouldn’t wake.

She climbed in beside them, pulling the blanket over her legs and slipping one arm gently around their daughter’s middle. Her other hand found Bee’s cheek, thumb brushing gently over her flushed skin.

Bee was already dozing again. Her little hand still clung to Oscar’s shirt, fingers bunched in the fabric like a lifeline. Oscar lay on his side, one hand on her back, steady as a metronome.

He hadn’t spoken since they left the bathroom.

He couldn’t.

His mind was still there—back in that sterile hospital, back under buzzing lights and clanging monitors, back in the chaos of the NICU where everything had smelled like antiseptic and fear. Where Bee’s chest had been bandaged and her tiny body had looked swallowed by tubes and machines. Where the doctors kept using phrases like congenital defect and survival window and prepare yourselves.

Even now—three years later—his body hadn’t unlearned what that fear felt like.

It just waited in the corners.

And the second Bee got sick, it came roaring back.

He didn’t realize his breath had gone shallow until Felicity touched his wrist.

“Hey,” she whispered. “You okay, Oz?”

Oscar blinked. Looked at her. Her face was shadowed by the dim light, eyes soft, mouth drawn into a line of quiet concern.

He swallowed.

“I just…” He paused, jaw tight. “Every time she’s sick, I’m back there. NICU. Her chest bandaged. You unconscious in another wing. It doesn’t go away.”

Felicity didn’t flinch. She just leaned forward, resting her forehead gently against his arm. “I know,” she said. “Me too. But we’re not there now. We’re home. She’s three. She’s strong. It’s just a stomach bug.”

Oscar nodded, almost automatically, and bent his head to kiss Bee’s hair. He breathed her in—her familiar scent dulled by fever and sleep, skin still sticky from the worst of it. Her body pressed against his, warm and trembling.

“I know,” he repeated. “But the fear doesn’t listen to that.”

It didn’t care that this was just a bug. That they had towels and medicine and time.

The fear only remembered the beeping monitors. The tightness of a surgeon’s voice. The weight of a clipboard in his shaking hands as he signed consent forms with the ink running sideways because he couldn’t stop trembling.

Felicity reached up and brushed a tear off his cheek. He hadn’t noticed it.

“Then we hold her through it,” she whispered. “And hold each other through it too.”

He didn’t answer.

He just kept his hand steady on Bee’s back, feeling the rise and fall of her breath beneath his palm. That rhythm—that small, fragile miracle—was the only thing that ever calmed him.

And even as she slept, her hand stayed curled in his shirt.

She always did that. Even when she didn’t know she was doing it.

As if she knew.

As if she remembered.

Oscar stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he looked at Felicity again—at the way she cradled their daughter so easily, so naturally—and asked, “You don’t… feel it the same way I do, do you?”

Her fingers paused, mid-stroke, in Bee’s curls.

“No,” she said softly. “Not exactly.”

Oscar didn’t press. He just waited.

Felicity sighed. “Because I don’t remember the worst of it.”

Oscar blinked.

“I was unconscious. High on pain meds. I didn’t wake up until a week later.”

Oscar’s chest tightened.

“I woke up, and I didn’t even know what had happened.” Felicity continued. “I missed everything. The surgeries. The decisions you made. The first time you held her. The fear.”

She didn’t say it bitterly. Just truthfully.

“I didn’t get to feel the panic because I was barely alive myself.”

Oscar’s breath caught in his throat.

“I opened my eyes and she was already recovering,” Felicity said. “Already breathing on her own. And I didn’t even know what I’d missed.”

Oscar reached for her hand across the bed. Their fingers tangled between Bee’s small shoulders.

“I would’ve done anything to be awake. Just once. Just to hold her and let you breathe,” Felicity whispered. 

Oscar closed his eyes.

“She was so small,” he whispered. “She didn’t even look real. Just wires and tape and bruises. I kept thinking—this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

Felicity reached for his hand and laced their fingers together over Bee’s stomach.

“I know.”

“I still hear the machines sometimes. The beeping. The silence before they started again.” He paused, throat thick. “Every time she’s sick, I’m back there. Watching the monitors. Signing things I didn’t understand. Hoping to hell she’d make it to morning.”

“And she did,” Felicity said, firm but quiet. “She made it. We made it.”

“I know.” His voice cracked. “But I don’t think that part of me ever left the hospital.”

It was a memory that never softened.

“I think about it every time she sniffles,” he admitted. “That week. That hallway. That chair outside the NICU. Every fever takes me back to it like no time has passed.”

Felicity didn’t say anything for a while. She just kept her hand in his, warm and steady.

“I know,” she said eventually. “And I wish I could take it from you. Even now.”

He kissed Bee’s temple, then Felicity’s knuckles, and closed his eyes against the ache in his chest.

Even after Bee had fallen asleep—her body hot and limp, her breathing finally steady—Oscar couldn’t bring himself to move his hand. He just kept it there, counting every breath, every rise and fall, as if it might make the world more solid.

As if maybe this time, the fear would finally leave.

It didn’t.

Not completely.

But when Felicity leaned across the bed and pressed her lips to his cheek—when her fingers curled around his arm like they had a hundred times before—it eased.

The fear didn’t disappear.

But it stopped roaring.

And that, for tonight, was enough.

***

The morning light slipped through the curtains, muted and silver-grey.

Oscar stirred first.

Bee was still curled against him, her little hand tucked under his chin now, her breathing slow and even. Her fever had broken sometime before dawn—he’d felt it happen, had tracked the cooling of her skin beneath his palm like it was the most important data he’d ever read.

Felicity was still asleep on Bee’s other side, her arm slung loosely around their daughter, face pressed into the pillow, dark hair spilling across the duvet. There was a line between her brows even in sleep—worry she hadn’t been able to shake, even once the worst had passed.

Oscar lay still for a while, just watching them. His wife. His daughter. The two people he’d nearly lost in the span of a single night three years ago.

Now here they were, pressed against him on either side. Safe. Warm. Breathing.

He exhaled slowly, quietly. Then reached for his phone with the care of someone disarming a bomb.

He sent a message to his race engineer. Telling him that he was working form home. Asking if he could reschedule sim hours to tomorrow. 

The replies came quickly—short and understanding. 

He didn’t always know how to ask for space. But this? This was worth protecting.

He eased out of bed like a man trying to leave without waking a sleeping dragon. Bee murmured once in protest but didn’t stir beyond that. Felicity only shifted slightly, her hand moving to take his place in the sheets without ever fully waking.

He padded downstairs in his socks, filled the kettle, started the espresso machine with muscle memory. While the water boiled, he set out Bee’s favorite cup—the one with tiny bees printed all over it—and filled it with warm water, not milk. Her stomach still wasn’t ready for that. But the ritual helped.

Afterward, he tiptoed back upstairs with the cup, a plain piece of toast, and her morning meds. He set it all on the nightstand and crouched beside the bed.

“Bumblebee?” he whispered.

She stirred, lashes fluttering.

Oscar brushed a curl off her forehead. “Hey. You awake?”

She blinked up at him, groggy and flushed but more alert than the night before. “Papa?”

“Right here.”

Her face scrunched up. “Still feel yucky.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But your fever’s down, and we’ve got a quiet day ahead. No kindy. Just us.”

Bee’s hand reached out sleepily, finding his shirt like she always did. “Mama?”

“Still sleeping,” Oscar whispered. “She had a long night too.”

Bee nodded solemnly, then reached for the cup. “Warm water?”

Oscar smiled. “You know it?”

Bee sipped carefully. He watched every swallow like it was a test. She managed a few good gulps before flopping back onto the pillows with a sigh.

“I don’t like being sick,” she mumbled.

“I know,” he said again. “But I’m staying home today. We can build a blanket fort later. Maybe rewatch the F1 highlights from Spa 1998.”

That got a weak smile. “That’s the crashy one.”

“That’s the crashy one,” Oscar confirmed, voice warm. “You’ll love it.”

Later, Felicity would wake up and they’d all pile onto the couch. Bee would fall asleep again halfway through the highlight reel with one hand still in Oscar’s, and Felicity would stroke her curls while working on her laptop.

And Oscar?

Oscar would answer emails with one arm wrapped around his daughter and his heart quieter than it had been in days.

It still didn’t erase the fear.

But here, in the soft hush of a post-fever morning, with warm water and toast and race replays and his family safe under one roof—it was manageable.

It was home.

And that was everything.

[mochinomnoms]

*hands you a bee smoker*

*takes bee smoker and cocks it like a gun*

IM READY

[ink-ghoul]

Is it possible for a list of all the artimators? :3

Yes sirrrr!! 🫡

Do you love the color of the artimator?

Kare | @karetyto

Cherri | @cherrifire

Tibby | @tibby-art

Phil | @aresonist

Zera | @hopepetal

Leo | @seawaveleo

Maruu | @xmaruu11

Doody | @kitsuneisi

Mayloony | @mayloony

Sylve | @sylve17

Hawper | @hawper

Cedar | @cornercritter

Cactuu | @cactuupng

Peregrine | @milkypiggybeans

Hoffen | @ink-ghoul

Kaze | @kazehita

Marbles | @marblegroves

Eydi | @eydilily

Jas | @isjasz

KingTheGhast | @kingtheghast

Kore | @terracottakore

Shai | @noxlotl

E | @wassup-its-e

Froag | @mrfroag

Coy | @thatcoyperson

Julia | @cocoabats

Elle | @periwinklemoonlight

Alex | @leafcakes-underscore

Shep | @shepscapades

Zeph | @grainjew

Myra | @myrathefarmer

Lew | @driflew

West | @evenmoreevil

Bee | @applestruda

Roti | @rotibasie

Acorn | Acqrn

Local | @localwheel

Melloz | @mellozheist

DropsterR | DropsterR

Anvil | EvilAnvil

Drawlistics | Drawlistics

Random Apple | @randomapplekey

Rusty | @rusty-courage

Clo | @clopiya

Berry | @berrysquared

Persefida | @persefida

Krash | @krashlite

Reilios | @reilios

Alice | @deathricedrawn

Chris | @chrisrin

Wen | Fancywen

Jonny | @sixteenth-days

Nox | @vesperionnox

Bax | @vexdraticc

Hex | @heavyhandedhex

Jinx | @jinxitaj

Mochi | @mochiwrites

CC | DrawnbyCC

Ghostfoam | @ghstfoam

Ann | @itsoddissey

Messier | @messiergalaxy31

Middy | @starlightsruby

Anpan | @anpanbun

Peanut | @peanutbutter255

Spiderziege | @spiderziege

Dragon | @dragonheart2497

Eirian | @kunehokki

Which one?

[bryte-tiny]

themed roblox games for regressors!

“Scary” games

rainbow friends

dandy’s world

piggy

Regretevator

Doors

actual scary games

Phasmophobia

Paranormica

The mimic

scary sushi

3008

Toy/fandom themed (soft)

Squishmallows

hello kitty cafe

Raise a rainbocorn

Sparkles magical market tycoon

Welcome to asamimi restaurant

Care bears caring quest

Littlest pet shop

My droplets

mochi shop tycoon

bee swarm simulator

roleplay

Adopt me

meepcity

brookhaven

Furana

Fnaf TPRR

twilight daycare

Livetopia

Tea time

picnics n plushies

Royale high

unsorted

Claw machine master

Build a boat for treasure

laundry simulator

natural disaster survival

horrific housing

Vet simulator

pet escape

Farm life

Islands

Would you rather

The normal elevator

Calming & sensory

resting place

Googlie sensory playground

The japanese garden

Sensory world

Sensory arcade

Cabin roleplay

Alone [sad vibe]

Silkii’s sensory aquarium

weirdcore/dreamcore (warnings for derealization)

Explore dreamcore

pepper’s playhouse

dreamspace

Jovial playground

Liminal Core

Clinic of dreams

Critterspace

Playzone

hypnoland

The toy house

My home

Café nothingness

Tarnished dreams

inSOnI (slightly disturbing warning)

please, feel free to add more in the replies!

[enterthetadpole]

Writing progress (along with a very sad update)

Hi everyone,

Sorry that I have not been posting much content as of late. I will explain what has been going on a little later in this post with the appropriate trigger warnings and a large amount of space to allow readers to hopefully miss out on anything upsetting that they do not wish to read.

The long and short of it is I will have more chapters of all stories/ficlets in Housing Fundraiser Ko-Fi along with my regular WIPs starting this Saturday at the latest.

Now as to what has been going on irl. Please read all trigger warnings before you continue. Large space between this area and the update is fully intentional. Please only scroll if you are mentally ok to do so. 💚

TW: pet loss, pet death, grief

I am a cat mom, and recently one of our beloved cats, named Spork, started losing a lot of weight very fast. He also did not want us to get anywhere near his mouth. After multiple trips to the vet and a lot of bloodwork it was discovered that he had severe kidney disease.

It was so severe the vet was fairly certain that even if we could afford the surgery and treatments she suggested, Spork would be unlikely to survive. He was in such pain that we decided on euthanasia.

He was only two and a half, and was one of the sweetest and quirkiest cats I ever had the pleasure to love. My spouse and I used to joke that with his huge bright eyes and weird personality he was a shift-shaper who “couldn’t quite get the eyes right.”

Photos of Spork are below.

Spork as a kitten, and an older Spork with one of our other cats named Mochi. He was so bonded with her that most of our photos of him are with her in them too.

He left peacefully with me holding his paw. We cried when we found out the results of his bloodwork, and the night before his last trip to the vet.

In my life as a mom to both dogs and cats I have learned two important things:

1. Dogs keep your ego healthy.

2. Cats keep your ego in check.

To all of you with pets or know pets, please love them with all of your heart. You never know when they are going to no longer be here.

The cost of the vet bills have been added costs we didn’t expect, but thanks to friends, we got coverage for his euthanasia and cremation.

As always, if you are comfortably able to donate to my Ko-Fi here is the link. Writing has always been a healthier way for me to focus and distract and I will continue to do so. I’m excited to share with you all new chapters and ficlets very soon.

Thank you to every one for reblogs, love, support and kindness through all of this.

And to my loving, quirky and wonderfully weird little boy, please know that you were loved from the moment we first held you in our arms until the very last moment you were here.

Tad 💚

Please let me know if you wish to be tagged/untagged!

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[eldritchmochi]

Youre yellow dress outfit is so cool!! like a cute goth bumblebee with the fishnet being like honeycomb

GOTH BEE GOTH BEE

BEETH

[koishiro]

# - 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : Gojo watches from the sidelines as his son gradually falls in love with you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : fluff

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 : kids romance, gojo being the best dad!

masterlist | jjk masterlist | anon masterlist

The first time Gojo noticed you was on the platform of Kyoto Station. It was time for another school year so he was there to drop young Megumi off at the station which would lead to his new primary school.

“Do you have everything with you?” Gojo asks his son, mentally counting all of his things once more. When he doesn’t get a response back he looks at Megumi who stared off at something amongst the crowd.

“‘Gumi?” He tries again to catch the 6 year old’s attention, but he’s fully focused somewhere else. The platform was busy with people, all wishing their children luck on their first day so it was difficult to see where Megumi’s eyes were trained. But as his father, and no-less possessing the six eyes, he knew exactly what had caught his attention.

Slightly further down the platform, Gojo caught sight of you standing there, laughing and smiling with your family who were also there to drop you off. That was the first time Gojo saw you. He didn’t know who you were, but he had a feeling that, with a little coaxing, he would later on.

“‘Gumi, pay attention to your father!” Gojo whined at his son, causing Megumi to turn his attention back to the kneeling man. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Gojo gave him a smile, “I was just making sure that you had everything with you and that you don’t forget about me okay?” He pouted before hugging him, much to Megumi’s refusal, just before the platform announcement came.

Megumi just rolls his eyes in response and makes his way on the train. Gojo turns around to look at you once more and sees that you’re doing the same, delivering one last goodbye before boarding the train, flashing a big smile towards Megumi beforehand. Gojo can’t help but smile when he notices a red hue staining the boy’s face.

Gojo waved enthusiastically at Megumi who sat at a window seat, hoping he wouldn’t cause too much trouble in school - unlike last year.

The end of his first day came and Megumi prepared himself as he made his way off the train “‘Gumi!” Gojo pushed himself through the crowd, passing other parents as he bee-lined towards Megumi, “I missed you my little mochi!”

Megumi whipped his head towards the white-haired man barrelling his way towards him, a grimace on his face when he’s practically to the ground.

“How was your first day? Did you get into any trouble? I don’t want any calls from your teachers again!” Megumi seemed to curl in on himself, embarrassed by his dad’s constant pestering.

Halfway through his rant Gojo noticed the far away look Megumi had as he stared at something or someone behind his crouched figure.

Turning around he noticed you stood not too far away, giggling and failing to hide your smile as you watched Gojo fuss over the young boy. Turning back to face the raven-haired boy he had to try and contain a smile of his own as he watched the way Megumi tried to hide his small body behind Gojo’s.

Y/n, that was your name. At least that’s what he heard through the boisterous crowd not too long ago. Maybe it was time to let Megumi go, figure his own way in the world.

The next time Gojo chooses to embarrass Megumi was sports day. While Megumi was sat cross-legged on the field with his team, Gojo was behind the fence with the other parents cheering obnoxiously loud.

He even took it upon himself to wear a custom shirt with Megumi’s face plastered on it with the words: meGOmi. And if it couldn’t get any worse, you had walked up to him earlier and commented on how ‘enthusiastic’ his dad was.

So when it finally came to Megumi’s turn during the footrace Gojo couldn’t help but practically scream out Megumi’s name and a few words of encouragement.

“You can do it my sweet Megumi! Remember the bet I have going on with the other parents! IF YOU DON’T MAKE THAT FINISH LINE YOU’RE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH FOR THE NEXT MONTH — I HAVE A REPUTATION TO HOLD UP!”

This caused Megumi to hide his face in the collar of his top, hiding from any prying eyes and especially a pair of honey-brown ones.

Of course Gojo couldn’t contain himself when he saw this and continued with his uplifting words, advocating himself as Megumi’s personal wingman, “Do it for your girlfriend!”

This caused Megumi to trip over his own foot, face-planting and resulting in a mouthful of dirt as he kept his eyes to the ground-now blown wide in bewilderment, too shocked to hear the whistle signalling the start of the race.

Even at the end of the race, Gojo continued his pestering as he made his way over to the boy, “how could you do this to me ‘Gumi?! Do you know how much money I put on you - oh hey, isn’t that Y/n?”

Whipping his head up Megumi made eye contact once more with your warm ones walking his way.

“Y/n! Did you see my Megumi? I think he needs some encouragement huh” smiling up at the 6’2 man, you failed to keep a small giggle to yourself, “he’s still a winner to me”

A bright red blush spread over the boy’s face at this, his eyes focusing anywhere but you. Walking closer towards Megumi you planted a quick peck to his cheek, wishing him luck on the next race before making your way back to your own team.

“If that’s not encouragement, I don’t know what is”

But it didn’t end there. Gojo had planned to visit the shop’s later that afternoon, wanting to grab a hold of some limited edition mochi he kept going on about.

But for some reason the now 8 year old Megumi stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching his dad grab his keys and wallet, “what’s up ‘Gumi?”

He shuffles in his spot for a moment, “Can I come with you?” Megumi quietly asks, his voice small and almost silent. Something Gojo is not too familiar with. Megumi never liked joining Gojo when he went out, according to him it takes too long.

“…Is this where you finally admit that you want to spend time with your ever-so-loving father?” Gojo boasts with a hand to his heart. Of course though, Gojo knows all too well that there must be a reason for his son to suddenly want to join and it definitely wasn’t to spend time with his dad.

Narrowing his eyes at the small boy, he probes further, “What’s the occasion?”

“…does there have to be a reason?” Gojo sends his son a questioning look, which causes Megumi to realise that his father knows him all too well. “I want to buy a Christmas present.” He quietly admits.

“Oh do you now? And for whom is this present for exactly?”

Megumi flusters at this as he wrings his hands together, “…for y/n”

Gojo smiles. It’s for the girl that he hasn’t been able to stop talking about - well, unknowingly that is. Ever since that kiss two years ago, he’s mentioned your name numerous times. So many times that it feels like Gojo practically know you.

Megumi always finds a way to include your name in things whether it being the food he’s eating coincidentally being your favourite, noticing a figurine advertised on tv which you happen to have a keyring of on your book bag, or how the laundry detergent reminds him of you every time you pass in the halls. Little things that he himself doesn’t notice he mentions but Gojo sure does.

Which led to where Megumi found himself now, trailing after the over-enthusiastic man to find the perfect gift for you. “I want it to be special” Megumi reminds the older male, sighing as he walks out from yet another store.

“Y/n must be special huh, the way you put so much effort into finding something special for her” Gojo stuffs his cotton-clad hands in the pockets of his winter coat as he slows down to match the steps of the gloomy looking boy, seemingly deep in thought.

“I’d be happy with a bag of Mochi honestly”

Megumi deadpans up at his father, “Good thing it’s not for you then huh” he pauses for a second before continuing in a smaller voice,

“I just-I feel… this just has to be different okay?”

Gojo just smiles down at the boy, a distant look on his face, knowing all too well what Megumi was feeling.

“Eight year old’s these days”

The next time Gojo saw you was at Jujutsu High, now 14 years old. Gojo hasn’t had the pleasure of teaching you at the school yet since you were placed in a separate class to Megumi, much to both of the boys dismay.

You and Megumi were sitting on a bench, clearly close with the almost non-existent space between the two. The way you two were laughing together at something the other said caused Gojo to slow to a stop. He couldn’t help but stare, a face of longing as he gazed at the two teenagers.

When was the last time he had seen Megumi laugh let alone smile? He couldn’t even hug Megumi without some sort of complaint along with a futile attempt at wriggling out of his hold.

Gojo couldn’t miss what he never had but he sure could hope, and damn the heavens; this was what Gojo had always hoped for, to see his son happy - he deserved to be happy.

Gojo was stood not too far away from where you both sat, unknowing of the emotional man staring.

That was until Megumi turned his head towards where the sorcerer stood. Megumi’s eyes widened, shock clear in his eyes at seeing his dad watching on.

Swiftly, Megumi makes his way towards him, “what are you doing standing there for?”

“Ah Megumi! Just reminiscing” Gojo greets his son, “I was just passing, got a meeting with the higher-ups, I’m probably late anyway” he scratches his head as he discreetly hides a paper bag, no doubt filled to the brim with sweets, behind his back.

“And you must be y/n!” Gojo says as you catch up with Megumi, now standing beside him. “The last time I saw you was when you kis-“

Quickly slapping a hand over the sorcerer’s mouth, Megumi was quick to interject, “kissed the ground! When I face-planted aha, remember that? Funny huh?”

Gojo just smiled behind the boy’s hand, deciding he’s teased him enough.

Although he doesn’t fail to notice the silver necklace around your neck. The same necklace he and Megumi went to look for as a ‘Christmas present’ for you. You still wear it, six years later.

A few months went by after that, Gojo had been patrolling the dorm hallways making sure everyone stayed where they were supposed to instead of sneaking off when he suddenly collided with a small figure barrelling their way down towards the girl’s dorms.

Looking down he was met with your worried eyes, “I’m so sorry sensei! I know it’s past curfew- I was held up but I’m on my way to my room now!” You rushed out.

Gojo shines up into a smile right away, clearly happy to see you, “Ah L/n~ Don’t worry about it, I’m no prude like that old man” he waves off.

As he says this Gojo looks down to see a plastic bag you were holding in your right hand. Noticing where his stare was directed you offered an explanation, “I went to buy some things I was running out of in my fridge, I was held up in a queue which is why I was running behind curfew”

Breaking out into a wide grin, Gojo more than happily replies, “Ah you really are wife material! It makes me so happy that my little ‘Gumi finally has someone he likes this much, honestly he’s starting to give me a headache with the amount of times you’re brought up” Gojo jokes but stops as soon as he catches the expression on your face.

“Megumi likes me?”

Gojo, by reflex, slaps a hand over his mouth. He really thought that Megumi had already told you. Something he expressed he was going to do one night weeks ago.

“Ah… so I see he didn’t tell you”

That night Gojo paced his friend’s room (or so that’s what Gojo calls him), waiting for the dreaded sound of a notification to pierce straight through his heart.

“Sit down”, came the bland tone of a certain blond, “worrying won’t solve anything”

“Maybe if I circle fast enough I can create my very own whirlpool which’ll suck me in, never to be seen again”

At this, Nanami placed his newspaper neatly on his coffee table before leaning over to grab the nearly forgotten cup of coffee. “This shouldn’t come to a surprise to Megumi, you can never keep your mouth closed”

“You know what, you’re right Nanamin! I’m not worried-why should I be? This was meant to be weeks ago-weeks, how was I to know any different?”

“So the fact that your phone is practically vibrating off the table doesn’t worry you?” Nanami hides his smug smile behind the rim of his mug.

Virtually diving for his phone Gojo rushes to open the message, prepared for the worst,

“I guess the letter was good news?” Nanami asks from the smile Gojo has plastered on his face.

Winter came later that year, Gojo was inside straying away from the cold outside. Opting to gather more wood the rack near the back door he caught a glimpse of something whizzing passed the window before hearing a muffled ‘hmph!’

Peering through the window Gojo caught sight of Megumi lying on his back with a face full of snow, making no movement to get back up.

“Oh my god, Megs! Are you okay? I’m sorry!” Gojo heard the muffled laughter of his son’s girlfriend as you made your way over to lend a hand.

This didn’t quite work in your favour though, soon joining the boy on the snow covered ground and laughter filling the air, “I am now that you’re down here”

Not even the sun on this beautiful morning was shining as much as the smile on Megumi’s face.

Just like before, Gojo stared off, a peaceful smile on his face. This was definitely more than just puppy love.

He knew from there on that Megumi would be okay, as long as he’s with you.

—

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ 𝐌𝐀𝐈�� : I saw this pic of baby megumi on Pinterest and I couldn’t help myself ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

— 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰

[jojo-schmo]

With so many wonderful Kirby OCs out there, I wanted to celebrate just a few of the Kirbysonas I've seen from some very cool people <3

Waddle Bee- @coatofbees

Remidee- @deafeninggardenerpanda

Fighter- @deefighter2739

Rainbow Dee- @cali-kabi

Mochi- @pruskita

Starstruck Dee- @starflungwaddledee

Jojo T. Schmo- That's me! :D